Shot Down

by Steven Sheiner

  It had been over a week since Callie Ann had put on her little show in my office. Her posts were all over the web and had been shared thousands of times. I’d been labeled a killer and a rapist, Sara still wasn’t talking to me, I hadn’t seen my kids in a week, and my practice was a ghost town. If prison was the next stop, I would truly have lost everything.

  I prayed for good news from Ingo. With any luck, the charges had been dropped, and I could forget about going to prison. If not, we’d have to move on to Plan B anyway. Things had already been set in motion and there was no turning back. There were big players involved and we’d already begun stirring up the hornet’s nest. I could still hear Ingo’s words echoing in my ears...

  You have to see it through to the end, no matter what. You have the stones for that?

  I unlocked the front door to the office and locked it again behind me. It was still early and I wasn’t expecting to see Vera for a few more hours. There wasn’t much for her to do, but I knew she’d be here. I pulled out a chair behind the reception desk and booted up the scheduling computer. When it finally came to life, it confirmed what I’d feared. Nothing. No patients for the entire week. It seemed accusations and Callie Ann’s photo were more than enough to keep people away. The truth be damned.

  I shut the computer down and fell into a blank stare at the front desk. As I sat there in my funk, I spotted a stack of mail sitting unopened at Vera’s station. I flipped through it, just to see if there was anything interesting among the usual junk.

  As soon as I saw it, my pulse quickened. It was a letter from the State Board of Optometry. I’d never received any form of communication from them previously, other than when I’d passed the boards during my initial licensing phase. This was different.

  I tore it open and I struggled to think of something, anything, else it might be. As I unfolded the letter, it quickly became apparent it was exactly what I’d suspected. A notice to appear before the State Board of Optometry for being accused of sexually assaulting a patient.

  I couldn’t help but be impressed by Callie Ann… she worked fast. She must have submitted her complaint letter to the board immediately after she put on her little show in my office. This was a new wrinkle in the plan that I had not considered or anticipated. My brain kicked into overdrive, wondering how it would affect what Ingo and I had in the works. The more I thought about it, the more I came to believe that if everything went according to plan, this too would be dealt with in due time.

  For the next hour I sat there, going over it again and again in my head. There was so much riding on what came next, my stomach lurched just thinking about it. We were going to need a lot of luck and some serious help, and I had to not to get shot during it all.

  Chapter 72

  The pizza arrived and I plopped down in my now usual spot, at the end of the bed in front of the TV. I’d chosen a modest hotel room, initially believing I’d only be here a few days, but I was well into my second week and seriously reconsidering my situation. It was a depressing day at the office and I got nothing accomplished. Vera was cordial, but it was obvious she looked at me differently now. Alexis too. They’d known me for years, but now they were wondering how well. Too many things had happened, too many accusations had been made, and they couldn’t help but wonder how much of it was true.

  I gazed down at the floor where I’d normally find Mandy sitting, staring up at me, and eagerly hoping for a taste of whatever I was eating. I missed her. I missed Sara, and I missed the boys. This was the longest I’d ever gone not speaking to them and my heart hurt. Sara still wasn’t returning my calls. The boys and I texted occasionally, but I didn’t want them to get in trouble.

  I clicked on the TV in the hopes of drowning my sorrows in pizza, beer, and sitcoms. I polished off my first slice and went for number two when a pounding on the door caused me to jump, nearly spilling my beer. Only a handful of people knew where I was staying, but I’d gotten lazy about watching for anyone that might be following me. I clicked off the TV, hugged the wall, and crept to the door. The peephole was just below eye level, and as I made my way up to it, another round of banging startled me again. I peeked through the small lens only to see Ingo pacing back and forth outside.

  I breathed a sigh of relief and unlocked the door. Ingo pushed past me as soon as I cracked the door open. “Pizza! Aw, brilliant mate!” He was two bites into his first slice before the door was even closed. He spotted my beer on the dresser near the TV and pointed at it longingly while he chewed.

  “In the mini fridge,” I said.

  With a slice of pizza dangling from his mouth, he grabbed a beer from the fridge and twisted off the top. He yanked the pizza from his mouth, took a pull from the beer, and let out a long “Aaaahhhh. Sorry mate, I’m starving.”

  “It’s fine,” I said. “Help yourself.”

  I locked the door and resumed my position on the end of the bed. The banging on the door had killed my appetite. Besides scaring the crap out of me, it reminded me that I was still in danger, now probably more than ever. The Attorney General was just step one, and before we could move on to step two, I needed to know what had happened.

  “So? How’d it go?” I asked, hoping something would finally break my way.

  “Not as we’d hoped,” he said between bites, and I sunk a little further into the bed.

  “Great, now what?”

  “We have an arrangement.”

  “Who is we? What arrangement?”

  “Peter and I. We came to an understanding.”

  “You’re on a first name basis now?”

  Ingo shrugged and took another swig of beer.

  “What understanding?”

  He set his beer down on the dresser, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and stood directly in front of me. “He was scared, but not of me. He knew I was going to hurt him, but he didn’t care. He was more afraid of whoever’s running him than he was of me, and nothing I did was going to change that.”

  I winced at the thought. I knew Ingo. He had seen and done some unimaginable things, and he could be downright terrifying if need be. Peter Blunt should have folded, but he hadn’t. There was someone else he was much more afraid of, and the thought sent a shiver down my spine.

  “So,” he went on. “It’s simple. We take out the people controlling him, and he’ll drop the charges.” A quick wink, another swig of beer, and Ingo looked no different than if he’d just told me the score of a game.

  I looked up at him as I struggled to wrap my mind around what he’d just said.

  “Excuse me?” I said, still in disbelief. “Is that a joke?”

  “What’s the problem?” he asked, and took another swig.

  “What’s the problem?!” I repeated, trying not to throw up the pizza and beer in my stomach. “I’m not a hit man; I’m an optometrist! Why do I have to keep explaining this to people?!”

  Ingo put his beer down again, put a hand on my shoulder, and leaned in close. “Simon, it was always going to come down to this. Whoever pressured him into bringing those charges against you obviously has it in for you. Even if he had dropped the charges, do you really think they would just let you walk away? This is not gonna end until those people are gone. Understand?”

  I nodded but not in agreement, only that I understood what he was saying. More killing. He was talking about more killing. I’d already taken one life, and I’d been living with the repercussions since that day. It’s what got me into this mess. It’s why I couldn’t sleep, why my practice was in ruins, and why I was estranged from my family. I was done killing.

  Still, he was right, this had to end. I couldn’t imagine what Ingo had in mind, but I doubted I’d be able to muster up the courage to be a part of it. Many nights I lay in bed wondering what my life would be like if I’d never bought a gun. Carlos would probably still be alive, assuming he didn’t overdose on something, and I w
ould still have a family and a thriving practice. It was pointless to think about it, but I did it anyway. A lot.

  Ingo straightened up and grabbed his beer. With a smile and another wink, he said, “It’ll be fine, you’ll see.”

  I was not reassured. Ingo was somehow quite optimistic, unfazed by this turn of events. I, on the other hand, was dejected. So far our plan was 0-for-1 and now suddenly looked a lot more complicated than it had an hour ago. The charges had not been dropped, so the trial was still on for next week. If we didn’t have better luck with the rest of the plan, I’d be going away for a long time. Or dead.

  I stared out into space, more depressed than ever. I wanted to throw up but my body wouldn’t cooperate, so I just sat there feeling nauseated, scared, and on edge. I was about to ask Ingo how, exactly, things would be fine, hoping he’d say something that would make me feel better, but decided against it.

  “It’s time for phase three,” he said. “You ready?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Well get ready. This won’t end until we end it. So get your shit together and make the call.”

  Chapter 73

  William arrived less than thirty minutes after we’d hung up. I’d called him sounding desperate and scared. He pounded on the door and I let him in. He was pressed and dressed and looking sharp as always.

  Ingo stood near the window not far from the door, and William spotted him as soon as he came into the room. He was about to say something when he saw her. On the far side of the room near the wall, Callie Ann Hollis lay face down, unconscious, with her hands zip tied behind her. There was blood on her face and it was obvious she’d been in a struggle.

  “What is this?” he said, sounding irritated. “Who the fuck is that?!”

  “This is Ingo. He’s been—”

  William gave me a sideways look and cut me off. “I couldn’t give two shits who he is. Who the fuck is that?” he asked again, this time pointing to the body on the floor.

  “It’s Christina. What do you mean?” I said.

  “That’s not Christina Escalante.”

  “What?” I said.

  “Fuck!” Ingo shouted.

  William looked back and forth between us. “Is that what you thought? That you caught Christina Escalante?”

  “Yeah, kind of,” I said, suddenly embarrassed, and now more confused than ever.

  “What are you? Fucking idiots?!” he asked.

  He looked from me to Ingo and back again. I let his insult go. I was used to William’s ways and, frankly, I deserved it. I was, in fact, feeling like a Grade A idiot.

  Ingo, on the other hand, was not used to taking shit from anyone. Especially obnoxious, overweight attorneys that wouldn’t have survived five minutes of what Ingo had lived through. He moved toward William, and I saw the look in his eyes.

  “Whoa, whoa!” I said, and got between them. “Easy,” I said looking at Ingo, and he took a step back.

  “Didn’t you ever bother to look up a picture of her? Even once?” William asked, still dumbfounded.

  “I did!” I said. “The day you told me she would come after me, I looked her up. Lots of stories about her, but no pictures!”

  “What do you mean?” William asked.

  “It means she’s smart,” Ingo snapped. “She’s got connections and she works fast. Her previous court cases are all sealed, including her arrest records. Any pictures taken by the police or FBI have disappeared. And she doesn’t exactly pose for photo ops in public.”

  William seemed surprised to hear this. “But still… Jesus, fuck!” he said, looking at Callie Ann in a heap on the floor. He put his hands on top of his head and started to pace back and forth.

  “Now what?” Ingo asked, looking right at me.

  Ingo had been convinced Callie Ann was Christina. He’d even convinced me. After everything she’d said and done, it was very easy to imagine.

  “Who else would go to so much trouble to fuck up your life?” he’d asked.

  I had refused to believe it. I knew her. Or thought I did, anyway. Ingo insisted I was blinded by whatever feelings I had for her, and because she was drop-dead gorgeous. It was hard to argue with that, so I had no choice but to admit it was possible.

  William had just confirmed my doubts. Deep down, I knew it wasn’t her. That’s why I wouldn’t let Ingo kill her, despite his objections. He stressed to me how dangerous she was, even if she wasn’t Christina. “She’s crazy, Simon,” he’d said, “and I’m betting you haven’t seen the limits of how crazy she can be.”

  I looked over at her, face down on the floor, hands tied behind her back. Even unconscious and bloodied, she was still gorgeous. I felt guilty for what we’d done, but we had to know for sure.

  Two hours before I called William, I called Callie Ann. To say it was awkward would be the understatement of the century. The last time I saw her, she knocked me on my ass, roughed herself up, and accused me of sexual assault. But if my fishing expedition was going to work, we would need her help. For that to happen, I needed Ingo to see that I was right. This was the only way.

  I was surprised when she took my call, but I imagine she was even more surprised that I was calling. After some cajoling, she agreed to come to the hotel, but when she arrived, she was annoyed to find that I was not alone. She took immediate objection to Ingo’s presence. He couldn’t care less. Callie Ann resented the situation I’d put her in and was instantly on the defensive. We confronted her anyway. If she left, we’d never get another chance. It soon became clear she had no intention of answering of our questions.

  She smelled a trap and made a beeline for the door, but Ingo barred her way. He underestimated her. We both did. She swung quickly and viciously, striking Ingo hard near his left eye. He was surprised more than hurt, but she took advantage of his shock and brought a knee up into his gut before he could react. He doubled over and she spotted the pistol tucked into his belt at his back. She grabbed it and pointed it at his head.

  “NO!” I shouted and charged her. I barreled into her, slamming her into the door and knocking the gun out of her hand. Ingo recovered quickly and punched her ferociously in the face, knocking her out cold. She fell hard to the floor.

  “Jesus,” Ingo said, touching the welt forming next to his eye. “She’s a feisty bitch.” He retrieved his pistol, secured it behind him, and pulled some heavy duty zip ties from his pocket. Once she was restrained, we moved her near the far wall and out of the way. I spent the next few minutes rifling through her purse, but there wasn’t a single piece of identification. No driver’s license, no passport, no credit cards, nothing. Ingo reminded me that all of that stuff could be easily faked anyway.

  “Let’s try this,” Ingo said, pulling a small gadget from his bag. “A digital fingerprint scanner. Borrowed it from a mate,” he said, and pressed Callie Ann’s fingers up to it one by one. In minutes, he scanned her prints and sent them wirelessly to a cop buddy who had agreed to run a database search. Thirty minutes later, the search came back empty. We still had no idea who she was or wasn’t. Was she Christina? Did she work for the people out to get me? Or was she just caught in the middle of something she knew nothing about?

  Even after she’d attacked Ingo, I still refused to believe she was Christina. I knew her. Months of talking on the phone, getting together, and sharing our thoughts and feelings, I couldn’t see how Callie Ann could be Christina. Maybe Ingo was right. Maybe I was blinded by her.

  I took a seat on the corner of the bed and looked up at William. “If that’s not Christina, then who is it?”

  “How the hell should I know?” he said. “Probably some broad that works for her. Someone she paid to get close to you, get to know you, seduce you, maybe even kill you.”

  I glanced over at Ingo who just shrugged.

  “So what does the real Christina look like?” Ingo asked.


  William walked over to where I sat, placed his briefcase on the bed next to me, and popped open the latches. He started fishing through a sizeable stack of papers and pictures when my cell phone began to vibrate. I pulled it quickly from my pocket, hoping it was Sara calling. When I looked at the caller ID, I didn’t recognize the number.

  I pushed the green button to accept, as Ingo watched William rummage through his briefcase. Normally I would send an unknown caller straight to voicemail, but a small part of me hoped to hear some good news.

  Wrong again.

  “Hello?” I said.

  “Hello, Simon.” A chill ran through me. I knew that voice. How did I know that voice?

  “Here you go,” William said, holding out a glossy five-by-eight in Ingo’s direction. He shrugged and his language suggested he did not recognize whoever was in the picture. William turned and held it out toward me.

  “Oh my god…” I said softly.

  “Are you there, Simon?”

  The sound of her voice and the picture staring back at me punched me in the gut, and I realized I’d been played the fool from the very beginning.

  “Christina?” I said slowly, and both Ingo and William snapped to attention at the mention of her name.

  “Very good, Simon,” she said. “How long have you known?”

  “About five seconds,” I said, floored by the sudden revelation and what it meant.

  She gave a mocking chortle before saying, “There’s someone here that wants to speak to you….”