Masters of the Veil

by Daniel A. Cohen

  “Sam,” his mother whispered, “just deny everything. They can’t prove that you hit that boy.”

  “I didn’t hit him!”

  The lights flickered in the hallway.

  “Hush, hush.” His mother patted his arm. “No matter what happens, I’ll still love you and I’ll always be there for you.”

  “Has everyone gone crazy?”

  Sam pushed past his mother and went into the living room.

  The police officers stood up.

  “Sam.”

  “Officer Gaetani,” Sam nodded.

  “This is Officer Curcio and Officer Palazzolo.”

  Sam gave a slight nod to each of them before casting a look over at the La-Z-Boy.

  “Hey, Pop.”

  His father took another long swig of the beer.

  Officer Palazzolo gave a small cough.

  “Right,” Officer Gaetani said. “I know you probably don’t want to talk about this, but we need to ask you a few things about the incident at the game.”

  “That’s fine, but I’m telling you, something weird happened. I honestly didn’t hit him. I just touched his shoulder and he fell.”

  “That’s fine, that’s fine. The thing is, though… we’re going to have to take you down to the station to get your statement.”

  “What?” Sam’s voice rose. “Why?”

  “I’m sorry, son. Apparently the Skyline player is really hurt. Since you’re not a minor anymore, you’re just going to have to come with us and—”

  “He’s just a boy!” his mother said. “Can’t you just talk to him here?”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I promise you this, I’ll have him home as quick as I possibly can. You have my word on that.”

  “I really don’t have it in me to go right now.” Sam tried to keep his voice as calm as possible. “Can we maybe just do it tomorrow, after I get some sleep?”

  “Sorry, it has to be now.”

  Sam clenched his fists and tried to hold back the scream that filled his head.

  “Okay, son.” Officer Palazzolo moved to the door.

  “Please, can’t you just let my boy get some sleep? He’s only—”

  Sam’s father finally spoke. “Just let them take him.”

  “But Dad, I—”

  “GET HIM OUT OF MY HOUSE!”

  Sam’s throat closed.

  Gaetani broke the awkward silence. “Okay Sam, let’s get moving, so we can have you home soon.”

  “Fine.” Sam looked back from the front door. His mother’s tears caught the light from the hallway as his father drained the last drops of his bottle.

  Maybe it’s a good time not to be here, after all.

  Gaetani let him sit in the front of one of the cruisers. He gave Sam a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry this happened to you. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now.”

  Sam stared out of the window. “If it’s all the same to you, I don’t really feel like talking at the moment.”

  Gaetani hesitated for a moment and turned on the engine. “I know you’re scared, son.”

  “I’m not scared, and stop calling me ‘son.’”

  “I want to help in any way that I can. Is there anything that you want to tell me before we get to the station?”

  What could he say? Gee, Officer, some freaky voodoo happened at the game and I’m the only one it didn’t affect. And my head felt like someone was hitting it with a mallet from the inside when I grabbed that guy’s shoulder, but I never came close to punching him. He wanted to scream at the world, and he wanted someone—even just one person—to believe him!

  Sam said nothing.

  Am I going to go to jail? No, they wouldn’t put me in jail for that. Didn’t anyone in the stadium see what really happened?

  They reached the aging, grey police station in a matter of minutes. The other officers had pulled off the road at an all-night coffee shop, leaving just Sam and Gaetani to go in together. When Sam had been in third grade, he’d taken a tour of the department. Back then, it’d been a cause for joy—a day off from school. Now he’d rather have to re-take all his classes than face what was coming. The station house looked a lot smaller than he remembered. White paint peeled off the trim, and the wooden stairs threatened nasty splinters if he dared trip. Sam followed the officer through the metal detectors and they were buzzed through the door leading past the protective Plexiglas barrier to the rest of the station.

  A stocky man came out of nowhere. “Officer Gaetani. I just wanted to apologize for what happened before. I was out of—” His jaw dropped as he stared at Sam. “It’s you.”

  Sam flushed. Guess even this guy was at the game tonight.

  “Huh?” Gaetani frowned. “Of course it’s him. You asked us to bring him in.”

  The man’s bald head shone with sweat and his eyes were totally bloodshot… no, they weren’t bloodshot, just oddly red. And those hungry, red eyes drilling into him made Sam want to run.

  Without a word, the man seized Sam’s arm and dragged him deeper into the station.

  “Sir, what are you doing?”

  The Lieutenant didn’t answer Gaetani. The grip on Sam’s arm was cutting off the circulation.

  “Lieutenant!”

  “Let go of me!” Sam forced himself not to yank his arm away—he knew better than to get into an altercation with a cop.

  “Sir, what are you doing?” Gaetani trailed behind them. “This is entirely inappropriate.”

  “Flathand,” the Lieutenant grunted.

  Isn’t this illegal?

  Gaetani clenched his fists. “I’ll be right back, Sam.”

  Trickles of apprehension ran down Sam’s neck.

  What’s this guy’s problem?

  “What happened to innocent until proven guilty?” Sam asked as the Lieutenant pulled him down the dim hallway. Stopping in front of a door, the gruff man finally let go of him long enough to reach into his pocket for a key ring. He pushed Sam forward into the dark room. Once he’d hit the switch, the lights revealed a few paper-littered desks and a row of cells along the back wall. The Lieutenant shoved Sam into one of the iron-barred rooms, equipped with a lidless toilet and a brown-stained cot with no sheets.

  “What are you doing?” Sam asked.

  The Lieutenant closed the metal gate. His weird, red eyes… glowed. A cold shiver of fear ran through Sam.

  Am I seeing things again?

  The Lieutenant twisted the key in the lock and turned to the door.

  “Hey!” Sam banged on the bars. “Let me out! I didn’t do anything! I swear, I didn’t hit him! Just let me out!”

  After the soft clink of metal, Sam heard only silence.

  CHAPTER 5

  Officer Gaetani stared at the door. What the heck’s going on with the

  Lieutenant? First, Lieutenant McNally had put his hands on a fellow officer—which truthfully wasn’t all that bad—but then he’d assaulted the kid without reason. No reading of rights, no nothing.

  Totally out of line.

  The Lieutenant had always gone by the book, never leaving so much as a scrap of paper out of an evidence file. Harassing Sam like that? Gaetani hated to report him to the chief, but—

  A loud buzzing came from the front door. Late-night arrivals usually were drunken students looking for a place to crash instead of driving home—which in a small town like Stanton was perfectly acceptable, actually encouraged. He passed around the metal detectors and opened the door.

  His eyes widened at the beautiful woman dressed in an elegant, tailored suit. Long, dark hair cascaded over her shoulders and her green eyes radiated intelligence. “What a fine station you have here. Very quaint.”

  Officer Gaetani furrowed his brow. “Thanks, Miss…?”

  “Agent.” Her smile broadened as she held up a badge—gold, with an eagle on top. Federal Bureau of Investigation. The black leather holder also included her picture on an official-looking ID card. Her other hand remained buried deep in her pocket. “
Agent Greenford. And you are?”

  It took him a moment to respond. “Officer Gaetani.”

  “First FBI agent you’ve run into?”

  He nodded and gulped. “This is a small town. We’ve never had any need for the FBI… at least not since I’ve been here.”

  “Yeah, we get that a lot. You’d be surprised what goes on in some small towns.” She stood on her tiptoes and peeked over his shoulder. “May I come in?”

  “Of course.” He gave a sheepish smile.

  “Thank you.” Her heels clicked on the linoleum floor. “I understand that a young man named Samuel Lock is in your custody. Is that correct?”

  “How did you know that? He just arrived.”

  She turned and flashed him a coy smile, and his cheeks reddened for asking.

  “I’m afraid he has to come with me now.”

  “What? Why?”

  Her playful look said, “Have you never heard of the FBI before?”

  Gaetani almost smacked himself in the forehead. “Right.”

  “Now, where is he?”

  “I actually don’t know. Lieutenant McNally just took him somewhere. I’m actually glad you’re here. The Lieutenant is acting strange. Maybe seeing some brass will set him straight.”

  She frowned. “Strange, how?”

  “I don’t know. Angry? And not following procedure. And his eyes look really—”

  “Red?”

  “Yeah, how’d you know?”

  “Take me to him.”

  Now the FBI’s involved? How bad did Sam hurt that kid?

  Lieutenant McNally’s eyes flashed up as Gaetani opened his office door. “We don’t have the faintest idea where he—I have to go.” He slammed the phone back on the desk. “Officer Gaetani, you know better than to come in without knocking!”

  So much for Lieutenant McNally’s “open door” policy.

  “And who is she?”

  “Agent Shelly Greenford of the FBI.” Gaetani stressed the Bureau’s initials.

  “What the hell does the FBI want?”

  Agent Greenford gave the Lieutenant a long look. “Sam Lock has to come with me.”

  “Sorry. That can’t happen.” Lieutenant McNally turned his attention to a pile of papers on his desk.

  “I apologize, but this is not up for discussion. Sam will be coming with me tonight. I am sorry if this—”

  “HE’S STAYING!” Spit flew out of the Lieutenant’s mouth with each syllable.

  “Sir.” Gaetani tried to keep his voice calm, “This is the FBI we’re dealing with. Now where is Sam?”

  “He will remain exactly where he is!” The Lieutenant jumped up and shoved the desk out toward them. In a swift motion, he pulled his gun out of the holster and raised it toward Agent Greenford. His hand shook, and fear filled his eyes.

  Gaetani froze in disbelief—his boss had a gun directed at a federal agent—while the woman smiled at the Lieutenant as he stood there armed, red-faced, and quivering. Greenford’s hand twitched inside her jacket pocket and the gun dropped to the floor.

  Her hand twitched again and the Lieutenant fell back into his seat, which gave a loud creak of protest. He struggled in place as if bound by invisible ropes.

  “Lieutenant, if you could please tell me where the young man is located. I’m on a tight schedule.”

  “You won’t find him in time. All I have to do is wait a few more minutes.”

  “Less time than I thought,” she muttered to herself.

  “A few more minutes?” Gaetani whipped his gaze from one to the other. “What are you two talking about?”

  The Lieutenant gave a smug smile and his eyes glowed even redder.

  Greenford took a deep breath and did something with her pocketed hand. The Lieutenant went rigid and his jaw muscles twitched.

  “Now.” The woman’s voice filled with iron. “I’ll ask you once more. Where is Sam Lock?”

  The Lieutenant gave a dry heave and moaned.

  “A little louder, please.”

  “C-Cellblock D.”

  “Cellblock D?” Gaetani repeated. “That’s only for real criminals. We haven’t had to use that area in years.”

  “Do you have the keys?”

  “Um… yes, I think so.”

  “Take me there.”

  “Sure, but what about—”

  “Now, please.” An urgent edge belied her calm words. The agent trailed him as he left the room. “I think running would be best.”

  He wasn’t going to argue. “What happened back there?”

  The agent kept up as he ran. “It’s a secret government weapon. Classified. Civilians don’t have access to knowledge about it yet.”

  Fair enough.

  Gaetani pulled up in front of a door with no window.

  “Keys.” She nodded towards the door, an eager look in her eyes.

  “Right.” He brought out his key ring. It had been a long time since they’d used this particular cellblock; Stanton hadn’t had a truly dangerous criminal in a while.

  Why stuff Sam in here? It makes no sense.

  He tried the rusty silver key, but it didn’t quite fit. He studied the key ring and rifled through the assortment, trying to jog his memory.

  Agent Greenford pushed the door open and shrugged. “Looks like he forgot to lock it.”

  They found Sam in the back cell.

  “Sam Lock?” Greenford placed a hand on one of the bars.

  “Yeah.”

  “Sam, you need to come with me.”

  “Where?”

  “Somewhere safe. Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble, and there will be plenty of time for questions later. But if we don’t get you out of here now, there could be serious consequences. You just have to trust me.” She turned to Officer Gaetani. “Open the cell.”

  Gaetani picked through the ring, but before he could make his decision, Agent Greenford had the cell door wide open.

  What the—?

  Sam bolted from the cell. “Thanks. I needed to get out of there. It’s been a tough night.”

  Agent Greenford placed a gentle hand on Sam’s forearm. “You poor boy. I can only imagine. But soon you’ll be out of the dark. Just know that you’ve done nothing wrong.”

  Relief washed across Sam’s face. “Good to know at least one person believes me.”

  “Follow me.” She moved surprisingly fast for a woman in heels. Greenford stopped short as they reached the front door. She turned toward Gaetani and smiled.

  “Officer Gaetani, the Bureau thanks you for your cooperation.”

  “The Bureau? As in the FBI?” Sam asked.

  “Later,” she said. “Now follow me.”

  “It was nice to meet you, Shelly—I mean, Agent Greenford.”

  “The pleasure was mine.” Then Agent Greenford snapped the fingers hidden in her pocket, and Officer Gaetani’s mind went blank.

  CHAPTER 6

  “Okay.” Sam followed the mystery woman past the parked patrol cars and across the lawn. She had an elegance that Sam hadn’t really seen before. Probably in her early thirties, she moved with the grace of a dancer. “What’s going on?”

  “There’s no time for long explanations. I’m sure you’ve been through a lot tonight, but just know that you’re not alone, and there is nothing wrong with you.”

  “What does that mean? And why do I feel like I can trust you?”

  “Because,” she tossed him a quick look over her shoulder, “you’re with one of your own now.”

  “One of my own? What’s ‘my own?’”

  “I promise I’ll explain everything once you’re safe.”

  “Please, just tell me that I’m not going crazy.”

  “You’re not. Just the opposite, in fact—you’re about to see things as they really are.”

  She led him into the woods. Sam pulled in his questions with a heavy sigh; she wasn’t going to give him answers until she was ready to give them. The moon cast ghostly shadows among the trees, giving enough li
ght for him to avoid smashing his face into one of the branches.

  Why does she always keep that hand in her pocket?

  “So, your name is Agent Greenford?”

  She stopped and turned to him. “No.”

  “But that’s what he called—”

  “I had to lie to get you out. I am not a member of the FBI. My name is May.” She extended her free hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Sam.”

  “Nice to meet you, too. Is there any chance I could have those answers now?”

  “We’re almost there. Just be patient and I’ll explain everything.”

  She moved deeper into the trees, stopping in front of a mound of giant palm tree leaves about the size of a car.

  She pulled at the leaves, and they came off in one piece, revealing something that looked like a giant anvil. The whatever-it-was had the dull grey luster of an old nickel, along with two doors like a car, but the front end was pointed and, having no wheels, it sat flat against the earth.

  “What is that thing?”

  “Trust me when I say that you are so very close to being safe. Just hop in and I’ll explain anything you want to know while we go.”

  “But how does it move?”

  “Please.” Desperation tinted her voice. “Just trust me.”

  Sam opened the door on the passenger’s side. The inside had no windows, no steering wheel, no… anything, but at least the seats had armrests. The interior glowed with a soft light that allowed him to see the beautiful artwork on the doors, ceiling, and what should have been the dashboard. The scenes depicted farmers working on huge fields with animals beside them. Sam didn’t recognize the creatures, which looked vaguely horse-like and towered above the farmers.

  He sank into the seat, which was infinitely more comfortable and less pungent than the cot in the cell. It even accommodated his size. May took the other seat and made some motion with her pocketed hand. The lines where the doors met the sides melded together and sealed tight, leaving smooth metal. A tiny light hovered above their heads, but it wasn’t attached to anything; it just floated there like a big firefly.