James Beamer Box Set

by Paul Seiple

  “Probably. And then someone would open the door anyway. The sign is insurance,” Jessie said, booting up one of the computers.

  “And why do you need three computers?” Mack asked. “Seems like overkill.”

  “Why do you need a kit of medieval looking tools when a butcher knife will slice open a body, Quincy?”

  “Touché, smartass. I think I’ll get a drink.”

  “You got any Kool-Aid?”

  “Fresh out.”

  There was a knock at the door, followed by the knob turning. Jessie ran by Mack and hid beside the refrigerator. Mack laughed. “Great hiding spot. I thought you were supposed to be Boy Wonder.”

  “Incoming,” a male voice said.

  “Get a knife or something,” Jessie said.

  “Relax, it’s just Reid.” Mack, shaking his head, patted Jessie on the shoulder.

  “What is all this stuff?" Michelle said, racing by Reid to the computers.

  “Hey, hey, don’t touch that.” Jessie knocked Mack into the refrigerator as he ran after Michelle. “That cost me nearly three-thousand bucks.”

  “What is it?” Michelle asked, playing a keyboard like a piano.

  “It’s a Mac Plus. That baby has one meg of RAM.”

  “A what?”

  “It’s a computer,” Jessie said.

  “This is your secret weapon?” Rebecca asked. “The kid doesn’t look like he’s hit puberty yet.”

  “I’m sixteen. Wait, I know you, you’re that old lady on that cop show. Wow, you look younger on TV.”

  “Don’t start,” Reid said.

  “So it’s OK for her to bag on me? I get it. Respect my elders. Good thing I can fix you with SuperPaint.”

  “I like to draw. What’s SuperPaint?” Michelle asked.

  “It’s a magical program where I can make your mom look young again. It’s less painful, and cheaper than plastic surgery.”

  “That’s enough, Jessie,” Reid said.

  “Cardinal Red. My name is Cardinal Red when we are doing a job. That’s the deal.”

  Reid motioned for Rebecca to sit on the couch. “Jessie led the North Carolina faction of The Swarm, the group of hackers which almost crashed National Bank. He went by the name Cardinal Red.”

  “The state bird, ya know,” Jessie said.

  “Why am I not surprised that you have a criminal involved in this?” Rebecca said.

  “I’m reformed.”

  “He’s a project,” Reid said. “He’s a jackass, but he’s too damn smart to waste away in a cell. It took Yemana years to perfect the art of giving someone a new life. Jessie learned it in a day.”

  “By day, he means four hours. It really wasn’t that hard.” Jessie booted up the last computer.

  “Are we set?” Reid asked, attaching a brand new Canon T90, a top of the line SLR camera to a tripod and pointed it at the green screen.

  “Just need to know where Laura and Lilly Foley would like to live,” Jessie said.

  “Who’s Laura and Lilly,” Michelle asked, tapping the keyboard of the Mac Plus.

  “I don’t even get to pick my name,” Rebecca said.

  “Time is against us,” Reid said. “I took the liberty of getting started. All you have to do is pick a place and smile for the camera.”

  “Anywhere?” Rebecca asked.

  “Anywhere you want to go. This is a clean slate.”

  “I’ve always wanted to live out west. I tried to get Michael,” Rebecca paused and took a deep breath. Her eyes turned glassy as she fought back tears. “San Diego.”

  Reid put his hand on Rebecca’s and squeezed. “You heard the woman, Cardinal Red.”

  “I’ll need about ten minutes,” Jessie said.

  “Let’s get your picture before your make-up runs,” Reid said.

  “Hey kid, how about some Kool-Aid?” Mack said to Michelle.

  Jessie looked up from the computer. “I thought you said you were fresh out?” Sarcasm emphasized the words fresh out.

  “You didn’t say please. Come on, kid.” Mack stuck his hand out to Michelle. She took it and followed him to the kitchen.

  After five minutes, Jessie said, “OK, next flight to San Diego out of Dulles was booked, but I made room.” He looked at Reid and held up his hands. “No, it wasn’t legal. And don’t ask how, you wouldn’t understand. Flight leaves in two and a half hours.”

  “Is that enough time?” Rebecca asked.

  “Enough time? Hell, I could change history in less time." Jessie moved from the Dell Turbo PC back to the Mac Plus. A few minutes later, he said, “Congratulations, Laura Foley, you are now the proud owner of a three-bedroom cottage in Imperial Beach. Two blocks from the ocean. Paid for in cash.”

  “What the hell? I can’t afford that. I can’t act anymore,” Rebecca said.

  “Don’t worry,” Reid said. “The house is on me. And your bank account should be switched soon.”

  “Already done. There’s a Wells Fargo five minutes from your house. All that’s left to do is make Laura look ten years younger. That's the hard part." Jessie laughed as he typed on the Mac Plus.

  Forty-Three

  Arlington, Virginia

  Sadness overwhelmed me when I pulled into Reid’s driveway. The last time I was there, Michelle was with me. I looked to the passenger seat and saw the ghost of a memory. Michelle, Linus in one hand, a chicken nugget in the other, singing Cyndi Lauper songs. Nearly a month had passed since I last saw Rebecca and Michelle. By now they were settling into their new lives in a place that I was forbidden to know. I hated Reid for not telling me the whereabouts of my family but his reasoning made sense. If I knew, I would make contact. How could I not call Michelle on her birthday, which was less than a month away. She would be seven. I felt dead inside.

  Barbara stood at the front door, waving me in. I killed the engine, looked at the passenger seat one last time, and got out of the car.

  “Reid’s downstairs,” Barbara said, opening the front door.

  “You’ve recovered well. Been giving Reid hell now that you can talk again?”

  She smiled, grabbing the left side of her face. “Not quite there yet. But believe me, when I’m pain-free, I have a mouthful for him. I’ve been keeping notes.” Barbara grabbed my arm as I walked by. “I’m really sorry I couldn’t keep them from taking Michelle.”

  I hugged her. “It’s not your fault. I had a run-in with the truck that ran you over. There wasn’t anything you could have done.”

  She hugged me tighter. “I’m sorry they had to go away. But they weren’t safe.”

  “I know.”

  Barbara pushed me away and looked me in the eyes. “You’ll find him and then you’ll get them back. I know it.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  I walked downstairs. Reid wasn’t alone. There was a kid sitting on the opposite couch arguing about the believability of a stunt on The A-Team. This was all too familiar. When I first met Reid, he didn’t tell me Barbara would be with him. And now there was a kid. This time I was too numb to feel tricked.

  “Am I interrupting something?” I asked with a half-joking tone.

  Reid stood up. “Didn’t hear you come in. How are you doing?”

  “I’m here. That’s about all I can say.”

  “Damn, you were right. He is tall,” the kid said. “It’s one thing to hide a zebra in a horse show. But a giraffe.”

  “Who’s the kid?”

  “Sorry,” Reid said. “This is Jessie. He’s going to help us create a new you. But we need to take care of something else first.”

  I cut Reid off. “I don’t need a new identity. I want Norman to find me.”

  “Have a seat,” Reid said, sitting back down. “Turn the TV off, Jessie.”

  Jessie ignored Reid.

  “Off,” Reid said.

  “Fine.” Jessie got up and turned the TV off. “You know they make TVs with remotes now.”

  “What the hell is going on, Reid? It’s easier for Norman
to catch me if he knows where I am. I am the bait, right?”

  “You use him for bait too?” Jessie asked.

  “Zip it, Jessie.” Reid faced me. “In order to keep Rebecca and Michelle safe, the Callahans have to die.”

  “So, they are not safe in this place you’ve sent them?”

  “They are safe, but as long as Wallace thinks you’re alive, he will keep looking for Michelle. I’ve arranged for Jessie to release the news to the media when I give him the OK.”

  “This is insane, Reid.”

  “This is how witness protection works. I thought you were a cop," Jessie said.

  “How old is the kid, twelve?”

  “I’m sixteen.”

  “The Callahans will have an accident and their car will fall from Lover’s Leap in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia,” Reid said.

  “The Callahans? Reid, you’re talking about my family.”

  “No, Michael, you’re the last Callahan and if Jessie is as good as he usually is, that will change in about an hour.”

  “Forty-five minutes,” Jessie said.

  “How are you going to pull this off?”

  Reid looked at his watch. “There is a car being placed at the bottom of the leap as we speak. Once I give the call, it will be set on fire. Three cadavers, courtesy of Mack, will burn beyond recognition. Jessie will make sure the dental records positively identify the Callahans.”

  “And how do you know the people you’re involving in this are trustworthy and not like Yemana?”

  “Yemana was trustworthy. But when family is a factor all bets are off. That’s why I couldn’t let you know where Rebecca and Michelle were going. If you don’t know, it can’t be used against you. Mack and Tanner are running the car off the leap. Unfortunately, or fortunately for us, they really don’t have any family.”

  “This is the only way?” I asked.

  Reid nodded.

  “All right. Let’s do it.” My tone was riddled with defeat.

  “Awesome,” Jessie said, sitting up from his slouch. “I just love it when a plan comes together. Let’s open this bottle of Beam to commemorate success.” He reached for the bottle.

  Reid grabbed Jessie’s wrist. “First thing, you’re too young. And second, this bottle is never going to be opened.”

  “Why have it then?”

  “Long story. I’ll tell you when you’re twenty-one.”

  “So, what’s next?” I asked.

  “First, we get you a new name, any ideas?” Reid asked.

  “Well, this is all so sudden,” I said.

  “Look, if we are going to pull this off, we need to get this show on the road. Just call yourself Jim Beam. At least that bottle will serve some purpose then.” Jessie eyed the bottle with disappointment.

  Reid looked at me with raised brows. “How about James Beamer?”

  “You’re serious?”

  “It’s got a nice ring to it,” Reid said. “Special Agent James Beamer?”

  “Special Agent?” I asked.

  “In all the commotion, I forgot to tell you. Congratulations. You have a new job. Welcome to the FBI,” Reid waited a few seconds. “Special Agent James Beamer?”

  I had to admit, it did have a nice ring to it.

  Forty-Four

  Washington, DC

  Six Months Later

  The official report on James Beamer was that I transferred from the Chicago office to work directly on a Chicago serial murder case with ties to DC. I had no idea how Jessie did it, but he made the creation of James Beamer seamless. No one questioned me. Only one person, Agent Matthew Gail, would rib me about Chicago sports. Every morning he walked by my office and pointed out that the Cubs lost again like it cut me deep that the Cubs were cellar dwellers. I played the part. Put on a face of frustration that morphed into a smile, and would say, "One of these days the Cubs will be champs, you just wait."

  It didn’t take long to get back into the swing of things. Law enforcement had always been in my blood, even when I tried to ignore it. Learning to live without Rebecca and Michelle was nearly impossible. I immersed myself in work, hoping to trick my mind into forgetting that Michael Callahan family man ever existed. But whenever a case drew my total attention, Michelle's voice broke through the wall of distraction. "It's tea time, Daddy." It was my subconscious mind's way of telling me not to ignore the one thing keeping me from reuniting with my daughter — catching the Morning Star killer.

  I stopped referring to Norman Wallace as my father. The blood ties ended when Michael ceased to exist. Wallace was just another psychopath that needed to be taken off the streets. But he was still a secret that Reid and I wouldn't share with the world. This was a private war that we were determined to win. Wallace wasn't making it easy though. There hadn't been a sign of him since the day he escaped from the abandoned church in Arlington. It was his M.O. — shows up long enough to let you know the boogeyman still exists and then fades into darkness to feed off of your fear. This time it was different. There was no fear. We patiently played the waiting game, checking every serial crime case for his involvement. Wallace was a ruthless killer and a better manipulator. We knew more about him than ever before — his childhood, what triggered the violent urges, and how he latched onto the weak, turning them into his killing machines. Maybe the fact that he was no longer a mystery was keeping him quiet. But one thing was for sure, Wallace would have to kill again. The silence wouldn't last. And until then, we would keep listening.

  One morning, I didn’t particularly feel like listening to the sixty reasons the Cubs sucked, so I skipped out to get coffee. When I came back to my office Reid was there.

  "The investigation into Yemana's death is over."

  "And?"

  "Final word is that the stress of the job became too much. He was lonely and saw no other way out," Reid paused. "At least part of that is the truth."

  "From what you told me, Ron seemed like a good man."

  "Michelangelo claimed that death and love are the wings that bear the good man to heaven. Ron had both of those things. Wallace was death, and the love for his family, forced Ron to turn his back on me. I just hope he's found peace. Anyway, Jessie erased every communication between Ron and Wallace."

  "That kid is so good, it's scary."

  “That's why I keep him on a short leash. Did you get that report about the strangler on I-85?”

  I took a sip of the coffee. The bitterness reminded me of why I didn’t care for the stuff. Blocking out the taste, I sat on the corner of the desk. “I looked at it. I don’t think it’s Wallace. I get the feeling it’s just some trucker getting off on killing truck-stop hookers and then dumping the bodies. There's nothing in that for Wallace. Everything he does has meaning.”

  “What about Kansas? Two bodies recovered, six still missing.”

  I picked up a file on the missing Kansas girls. “This one is a little more intriguing. Meet in your basement over the weekend?"

  "Sure. Two of the victims resemble my mother."

  “I noticed that, but why would anyone chose Kansas?” I smirked and tossed the folder onto my desk.

  “He’s definitely still out there.” Reid stood up and shut the door. “Ian Palmer got shanked last night.”

  “Sad Face?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How’s that even possible? He’s in solitary.”

  “Guard turned his back as he was walking Palmer back to his cell after a shower.”

  “You think Norman had him killed?”

  “I know he did. Word got out that Palmer talked to Mack and Tanner.”

  “I guess we are headed to Dillwyn then.”

  “Tomorrow. Speaking of Tanner.” Reid stood up and opened the door.

  Jill walked in, waving. “Hi ya, James.” She scrunched her nose and whispered. “James Beamer? Really? That’s the best you could come up with?”

  “Tanner passed her tests. She’s one of us now.”

  “You passed the background check?”
I rolled my eyes.

  “Don’t act surprised. Good thing you didn’t have to take one, huh?” She flashed a crooked smile.

  “Both of you get a good night’s sleep," Reid said. "We have a one o’clock with Warden Becker tomorrow.”

  “Oh, he’s just going to love to see me,” Jill said.

  The cleaning crew kicked me out of the office at ten. I stopped by a convenience store, picked up a six pack of soda and a bag of Doritos. Back at my one bedroom apartment, I heated up a frozen dinner. This place wasn’t much different than the apartment I had before I married Rebecca. I did have cable though. I settled in to catch the last few minutes of Knight Rider, before putting in a VHS tape of Scooby Doo. Shaggy and Scooby fumbled around finally helping to nab the bad guy as they always did. I thought back to my childhood, watching Scooby Doo and hearing my father, James Callahan, tell me that one day I’d be the one catching the bad guys. Would he be proud of me? Last week, I helped stop a rapist before he evolved into a killer. That’s one for the good guys. I looked over to the couch. Linus was propped against a pillow. I closed my eyes and saw Michelle sitting there laughing at Scooby and Shaggy. I opened them to the credits rolling on an episode. Shaking my head, I took a bite from the frozen dinner. The lukewarm hamburger steak and mashed potatoes cured the hunger that burned in the pit of my stomach, but nothing could ease the ache in my heart. The one bedroom apartment felt like an empty mansion, haunted by the past of a happy family.

  I turned off the television, tossed the rest of the dinner in the trash, and headed to bed, for what would be another battle. Nights alone were dangerous. I often thought about tasting the steel of my revolver. It seemed the best solution when I lay in bed and stared at the empty side where Rebecca used to sleep. Nights were long. Insomnia made them seem forever. And every morning, Three Dog Night twisted the knife a little deeper when “An Old-Fashion Love Song” blared at 6:30.

  Ending it was running. And I no longer ran. Wallace was still out there. So, I got up every morning, put on a new suit, and chased another killer, hoping that would be the day I caught the Morning Star.