Fragmented

by George Fong

  Jack thanked Jozeph for his time, then turned around and walked back to the car. He stood next to the trunk and stared up toward the hillside, where a little church perched with a stone cross at the peak of the roof. There appeared to be a graveyard in the back. Yes, Jack knew where Cooper was. He was buried in a grave in the town of Szentendre, Hungary, under the name Janos Mink.

  66

  It had been a week since Jack had returned from Hungary. He and ALAT Cameron met with the Hungarian National Police and explained what they had uncovered, so to speak, and that the American government requested the body of Alvin Franklin Cooper be exhumed for positive identification. Jack figured if they were going to track a fugitive, they might as well get his name right.

  With the days now starting to cool, Jack decided to take a couple of days off to decompress. He thought about driving to the coast and staying at a little place close to the beach, one that didn’t have cell phone coverage. He pulled down a suitcase and packed. He even tossed in his golf shoes, just in case. Jack picked up the phone and called Marquez, told her he would be gone for a couple of days. She told Jack to round it up to a week. He explained his plan to keep his phone off. She laughed and said it would be like a person with OCD trying to walk past a glass table with fingerprints. He told Marquez that when he found out where he was going, he would call her with the number. She told Jack not to worry. The world still turned without him.

  He was packed and ready to leave when his cell phone vibrated. He looked down and saw it was his wife, Emily, calling. He pressed the talk button and drew the phone to his ear.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey back. Haven’t heard from you in a couple of weeks. Thought I’d check in with you to see how you’re holding up.”

  Jack pulled his feet up onto the couch so that he was in full recline. “That’s very nice of you. I’m sorry I haven’t called; we had our hands full with the kidnapping.”

  “I was following on the news.” Emily paused. “How’s the girl?”

  “Considering everything that has happened, she’s doing pretty well.”

  “You did good, Jack.”

  Jack fell silent. When they weren’t arguing, to Jack, there was nothing sweeter than Emily’s voice. Like a warm blanket on a winter’s night.

  “Thanks.” It was all he could think to say.

  Jack could hear Emily fumbling for the right words. She cleared her throat to speak, then stopped. “When I heard Baker’s father pleading on TV for his daughter’s safe return, I knew you would be the one who would bring her home.”

  Emily always knew the right thing to say. It made him feel uncomfortable and proud at the same time. He melted. “So what are your plans for the weekend?”

  Emily let out a deep breath. “Actually, nothing exciting. The usual stuff. House cleaning, grocery shopping….”

  “I’m going to see the sun set,” Jack said.

  Emily hesitated, “I figured you’d have a stack of paperwork to do.”

  “Nothing that can’t wait. Would you care to join me?”

  “That depends.”

  “On?”

  “What you plan to do with your cell phone.”

  Jack didn’t miss a beat. “Funny you should ask. Think I lost it.”

  Emily laughed. “Okay.”

  They talked for a few more minutes but Jack needed to get off the phone. A slight change of plans in his itinerary. He thought he’d better repack. He tried to keep things in perspective. Didn’t want to lose sight of reality. It was important that he didn’t forget about the fights, the screams, the crying and the compromises. Having Emily join him at beach didn’t suddenly make everything right again. But it was a start. One step at a time, he thought.

  He pulled his cell phone one last time and glanced at his new messages. He played one left by Border Collins, who said he understood why Jack hadn’t called him back—the kidnapping—but reiterated the board was still interested in hiring him. Jack just couldn’t make that call. Not today. Of all the criticism, self doubt and second-guessing that came with the job, there was nothing more rewarding than prevailing, beating those who took advantage of others. He hit 9, saving the message for another thirty days.

  Minutes later, soft bag over his shoulder and keys in his hands, he stood at the open front door, hot air from outside invading the cool apartment. He reached to his waist and unclipped his cell phone. He stared at it for a second. It was only for the weekend. What could possibly go wrong? Carefully, he set it on the entryway table next to the front door, giving it one last look, the kind you give your child when he leaves for his first day of college. Then he walked out the door and locked it.

  Janos Mink held the throwaway cell phone to his ear, waiting for Jack to pick up. It rang several times before going to voicemail. He patiently waited to leave his message.

  “Agent Paris, this is….” he paused. “It’s me. I got your message in the Rabbit Hole.” He wagged a finger at the phone. “Just so that you know, I do remember you. From our first encounter many years ago. Since that interview at the Chico Police Department, I always thought of you as a smart man, Mr. Paris. Truly, a smart man. I just want you to know that with the passing of my dear friend Eric Youngblood, you should not have to worry about children being kidnapped for pleasure. At least by Mr. Youngblood. As for me, I can’t say what I plan on doing, or, as you know, as whom. I enjoyed being Alvin Cooper but I know that is no longer possible.

  “A name is nothing more than something to be called, you know. What identifies a person is his character. Goodbye, Mr. Paris. I can only hope our paths never cross again.” Another pause. “But I guess that would be asking too much.”

  It was early evening in Buenos Aires. Janos Mink sat alone at a local bar. He closed the phone and placed it on the countertop. A bartender wiped the slick, dark wood in a slow circular motion, not paying attention to the phone left behind.

  The bar was crowded and the noise was beginning to rise like the temperature on a California summer day. Janos Mink reflected on his last life, the life in America. Learning a new language was easy when you’re young. It was ridding yourself of the accent that showed your talent. He was good at that. He did it well when he took on the identity of Alvin Cooper. Now it was time to learn another language a world away.

  He turned around and watched the patrons, studying their faces, their body language. It was a new place for a new look. He scanned the area for a new target.