The Boy Who Couldn’t Miss

by Laurence Dahners

  Fred widened his eyes a little, “It’s in my report! There was a tall skinny guy dressed in…”

  Hollis put up his hand to interrupt and sighed. Fortunately for Fred’s temper, Hollis didn’t roll his eyes, “In black. I know. ‘Dressed like a ninja.’ But neither the mayor nor Scott here saw this ninja. The CCTV recording system had been turned off, presumably by Romano’s people who didn’t want the events to be recorded. I know it’s been stressful…”

  “You’re goddamned right it’s been stressful!” Fred exploded, “But I did see that guy! And there was a woman too, knocked out by the falling ladder, also dressed…”

  “Like a ninja. Yes, I know,” Hollis said patiently. “But there’s no evidence…”

  “Wait!” Fred said almost triumphantly. “All those guys were shot from the front, right? Shot right in the middle of their foreheads. But they were all facing Martin, across the room from me. I was behind a lot of them and to one side or the other of the rest. I couldn’t have shot them.”

  Almost sadly, Hollis said, “The only evidence we have regarding the direction they were facing comes from…”

  “Me!” Fred said exasperatedly, throwing his hands up. “For God’s sake. Trust your witness! He works for your agency!” He sighed, “I suppose I’m going to have to find the guy that actually did the shooting?”

  Hollis said patiently, “No, no, we’ll keep looking. We don’t have any evidence of such a shooter but we aren’t giving up.” After a pause, he continued, “I and Special Agent Warren here both think you deserve a medal for what you did, whether or not you shot all those guys. They were all bad apples, killed in the act of committing murder and guilty of all kinds of heinous acts as documented on the CCTV records on their computer. Murder, kidnapping, holding minors in slavery…” Hollis’ voice broke into a rasp. He swallowed and shook his head before continuing. “You ask me, they deserved to die and whoever shot them served justice and protected our citizens. If that wasn’t you…” he paused to lift a questioning eyebrow, “well, I still hope to figure out who it was.” Hollis looked back and forth between Warren and Rector, then turned to the door. “I’ll leave you two for now. I’m sure you have things you want to talk about.”

  With Hollis gone, Rector turned to Scott Warren, shaking his head and saying, “Where do people come up with this stuff?”

  Scott was staring at Fred, his eyes still a little wide. “Why don’t you want people to know?”

  Resignedly, Fred said, “Scott… I really didn’t shoot anyone.” Then, giving up on trying to convince the young man, he said, “How’s your leg?”

  Apparently, deciding not to continue trying to convince Fred he’d shot people when he said he hadn’t, Scott shrugged. “It hurts. But it feels better since they put the rod in it this morning. At least the broken ends of the bone aren’t grinding together every time I move. I’m supposed to start therapy tomorrow morning and the doctor says my leg should be almost as good as new in six to twelve months, at least if I work hard at it.”

  “That’s great,” Fred said, “we can use good people like you in the Bureau.”

  Fred had just about run out of things to talk to Scott about when Scott’s wife came back to the room from wherever she’d been. Fred took the opportunity to give Scott a number of glowing compliments in front of his spouse, then took his leave.

  ***

  The next afternoon, Fred Rector left his office to drive down to Lareta and visit Mayor Jennings. His worries that the mayor might have been corrupt and have chosen, rather than being coerced, to cooperate with Romano had already been relieved. Yesterday, the mayor had reached out to the FBI, trying to work out how to forestall organized crime incursions into Lareta’s government in the future.

  Nonetheless, Fred felt like there should be closure between himself and the mayor after such a traumatic ending to their interaction.

  Intending to return Rector’s phone, Roni’d just driven up as he got into his car. Exasperatedly, she considered going into the building, finding his office, and leaving the phone on his desk. However, that’d make it very obvious that someone had returned the phone. It seemed likely that the FBI offices were monitored with security cameras and that they’d go through them to try to figure out who’d returned the phone. With a sigh, she pulled out behind him, hoping he wasn’t going too far.

  Ten minutes later, it became evident he was going to Lareta, but Roni just hunkered down to finish the drive, wondering if she should try to visit her family while she was down there.

  Rector drove directly to the mayor’s office. When he found a parking spot, Roni stopped as if double parked, got out and ran to his car, intending to toss the phone in through his open door and onto his car seat. That way, maybe he’d just think he’d misplaced it. To her frustration, his exit from the car was quick and he’d closed the door and locked it before she arrived.

  Rolling her eyes, she trotted back to her car and pulled it up to a parking place further down the street. Then she hustled into the building and looked for the mayor’s office, assuming that must be where Rector was going.

  When Fred arrived at the mayor’s office, he found him talking to a couple of people. I should have made an appointment! Why would I think I could just walk in and start talking to the mayor, even of a small city like this one! With some frustration, he turned to see if he could find the person in charge of Mayor Jennings appointments. He’d just begun to ask a young man at a nearby desk when he heard Jennings’ voice behind him, “SAC Rector?”

  Fred turned, “Yes sir, Mr. Mayor. I’d hoped to talk to you briefly, but I can see I should have made an appointment.”

  Jennings strode the two steps between them and threw his arms around Fred. “Not on your life. After that night, I’ll always be able to make time for you!”

  A couple of minutes later, Jennings had made excuses to the two people in his office, sent for coffee and they’d taken seats. With an expression that verged on worship, Jennings turned to Fred and said, “I thought you were done for!” He shook his head in wonderment, “I never dreamed that you’d be able to…” He paused, choked up, “To take out all of those sons of bitches in one fell swoop…” He continued his voice breaking and tears running down his cheeks.

  Hopelessly, Fred raised his hands palms forward and protested once again, “It wasn’t me, Mr. Mayor, there was a guy there…”

  Jennings snorted, shaking his head, “I’d heard…” he paused to blow his nose, “I’d heard you were saying things like that. But I was there, man. Give it up. Accept our gratitude. It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. The most amazing I’ve ever even heard of! You should take credit where credit’s due!”

  Fred shook his head once again, “Wasn’t me, Mr. Mayor, but I can see I’m not going to convince you. I mostly came down to make sure things were okay here. You’d told me your family was being held hostage, is everything okay there now?”

  The mayor’s face crumpled. He turned it toward the window, evidently not wanting anyone passing in the main office to see what he was going through. With a sob, he said, “No… I mean, they’re physically okay, but Romano had this four-part plan for punishing me should I disobey him.” Jennings lifted a finger, “First thing I did wrong, he’d deliver these pictures…” Jennings fumbled in the inner pocket of his jacket, pulling out a sealed envelope and tearing it open. He handed a small stack of tri-folded papers to Fred, “He said he’d deliver these pictures to my wife if I disobeyed, or if something happened to him. Now that Romano’s dead, the pictures were delivered to my wife yesterday. She’s left me and taken my kids.”

  Fred stared at a picture of Jennings with some girl’s head down in his lap, astonished that Jennings would have given such a photo to him. He thumbed through the others, seeing that the girl looked underage. He felt so dumbfounded by the pictures that he barely heard Jennings tell him that the next steps would be to sell his daughter into sexual slavery, then kill his son, then kill Jennings and his
wife.

  “Agent Rector?” Jennings apparently repeated himself. When Fred looked up, he said, “Do you think you could take them into protective custody in case whoever delivered the pictures is also planning to carry out steps two, three and four?”

  Fred’s eyes had come up at the question, now they dropped back down to the pictures. A dismaying vision of Fred having to arrest the mayor himself rose in his mind.

  “Oh my God!” Jennings exclaimed. “Sorry, I can see you’re wondering if those pictures are genuine. I’d just parked outside my house…” Jennings continued with a tale about how Romano’s men had surrounded his car and forced him to sit while a half-naked, under-aged girl pretended to carry out the act shown by the pictures. “Is there any way the FBI’d be able to analyze these pictures and prove...” Jennings looked up at Fred and must have seen the concern on his face.

  Fred said slowly, “The pictures show what they show. We might be able to determine if they’d been doctored or photoshopped, but it sounds like you aren’t saying that?”

  Jennings shook his head, the sick look on his face showing that he suddenly understood he might have just turned an ally into an enemy.

  Fred stared at the picture again, “And I don’t suppose you don’t have any idea which of Romano’s men were involved but that you think there’s a good chance whoever did it is dead?”

  Jennings nodded.

  “And, of course, you don’t know who the girl is?”

  Jennings swallowed and shook his head.

  Fred sighed, “I, of course, must submit these pictures for investigation. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that they look pretty damning. The strongest evidence in your favor is the fact that you turned them over in hopes we could prove the incident was faked, but…” he shook his head and glanced back down, “you may soon be wishing you’d burned them.” He looked back up. “That wasn’t serious. Concealing evidence is almost never a good idea. The guy who gave them to your wife might send more copies to the police and then you’d be even farther behind the 8-ball than you are now.”

  Jennings’ head was hanging as he stared at the floor. Fred thought for a moment, then said, “For what it’s worth, I believe you and I’ll do what I can, but…” He took a deep breath. “Where’s your wife?”

  “I don’t know,” Jennings said, just above a whisper. “She said she was in a hotel, but I’ll bet she’s going to her mother’s pretty soon. Her mother’s never thought I was good enough for her, so this’ll pretty much ice that cake.”

  Trying to be businesslike, Fred started asking questions and, to his credit, Jennings answered them all without hesitation, even when the answers didn’t show him in the best light.

  Behind the two men, an unseen Roni stared wide-eyed at the pictures of Casey’s face rising from Jennings’ lap. I guess I’ve got to call Casey, she thought.

  As Fred walked out to the car, he put his hand in the pocket of his jacket and encountered something. He pulled it out. My phone! For a moment, he actually wondered if he could have missed it in his pocket all this time. But then when he opened it, it didn’t ask for a password and all his apps were gone.

  He frowned, Someone else’s phone, same make and model? he wondered. Flipping it over, he thought, No, there’s that little dent in the case from when I dropped it... What the hell…?

  ***

  Francine Jennings had just finished checking out at the front desk of the hotel. She turned to look for Vanessa and Darien. They were across the lobby, talking to some woman and her daughter.

  Walking across the lobby, Francine called to them, “Kids. We’re checked out. Let’s go.”

  Vanessa turned to her with a strange expression Francine didn’t know how to interpret. She found it irritating that her kids were dawdling over some strangers while Vanessa was trying to get them rounded up and on their way. She reminded herself that she was trying to cut them some slack. Finding out their father was a monster had been really hard on them.

  Vanessa said, “Mom? I… I think you should listen to Casey here…” Vanessa trailed off, but used her eyes to indicate the young girl she and her brother had been talking to.

  Feeling mildly exasperated, Francine looked at the familiar looking young girl. I know her from somewhere, she thought, but I’m pretty sure I haven’t seen her in person. She wondered if the girl might be some kind of celebrity.

  The older woman, the one Francine thought from her appearance must be the girl’s mother, said, “You should come over here and sit down.” She indicated a little alcove with a few chairs in it.

  “We’ve really got to be on our….” Francine said, but then her eyes caught the girl’s face from the side. A sick feeling welled up inside of her. Oh my God! She’s the girl from the pictures! They’ve come to confront us! Even though what Will had done hadn’t been Francine’s crime, waves of guilt rolled over her anyway. She stumbled into the little alcove and collapsed into one of the chairs.

  For a moment, Francine feared she might pass out. She focused her eyes on the woman’s face, bracing for the terrible accusations to come and wishing her children didn’t have to hear them.

  To her astonishment, the woman said nothing.

  Instead, the young girl sat down beside her and put a hand on Francine’s forearm. She said, “Ma’am, those pictures were staged by Romano and his men to blackmail your husband. Mayor Jennings never did anything to me. You and your kids should go home and tell him… tell him you’re sorry you didn’t trust him.”

  “What…?!”

  Francine had an exceptionally difficult time coming to grips with what Casey’d just said. Because of her history of abuse as a child, her first viewing of the pictures had induced a sense of revulsion so powerful she’d vomited.

  The images so clearly showed someone she thought she loved, engaging in behavior so horribly repulsive, that she’d never considered the possibility that they might be faked.

  Now her horror focused on her own culpability in accepting images as gospel—when she knew very well that pictures could easily be manipulated with modern tech. She grasped at a straw. “Staged? But the pictures show his hand pushing you down!”

  “He never touched me. I know it looks that way, but I think he was reaching out to try to pull me up.”

  “But, but…” Francine’s eyes filled with tears, “Oh, you poor thing. Romano did this to you? You must’ve, must have suffered so horribly.”

  Casey nodded. “Yes, I did,” she said almost serenely. Then fiercely, “but not at your husband’s hands. Romano and his men were to blame…” With evident great satisfaction Casey said, “And they’re dead.”

  “So, you’re free now?” Francine asked tremulously.

  “Yes, and back with my family,” Casey said firmly. “Thanks to someone… amazing. To whom I’ll be forever grateful.” She hesitated, eyes focused searchingly on Francine’s face, as if trying to decide something. “Um, you should know…”

  “Yes?”

  “Those pictures weren’t the only things Romano was holding over your husband.” She hesitated, but when Francine gave her a nod, she continued, “He’d promised to put Vanessa,” Casey’s eyes went to Francine’s daughter, “into sexual slavery like me and …” Casey’s eyes shifted to Francine’s son, “to kill Darian. Your husband’s been doing the very best he can do in the face of horrible pressure. You should give him his family back as quickly as you can.”

  Francine reached out to put her arms around her children. The same children she’d just felt irritated with for dawdling. She clung to them with all her strength as she turned to look at Casey’s mother. A mother who gave her a nod—affirming what Casey’d said. “I will,” Francine choked out around the frog in her throat. Eyes darting back and forth from one to the other, she said, “Thank you. Thank you so much. But I’m so sorry for what happened to you.” She tried to rise to her feet in order to give Casey and her mother hugs, but her knees were too weak and she collapsed back to the chair. “So
sorry,” she said as the tears streamed down her cheeks.

  Casey bent to give Francine and her children an encompassing hug. “Love one another,” she said. “Life’s short… and as I know better than many… it can be brutal.” Casey stood and walked away, somehow looking dignified.

  As if Casey felt triumphant over what’d happened to her. Her mother trailed behind.

  As Casey walked to their car she heard Kita’s voice. “Feel up to talking to Agent Rector this afternoon, or was that traumatic enough for one day?”

  Casey turned her face up to bask in the sun and thought for a moment.

  “No,” she said, “I’d like to do it now. Let’s go.”

  The End

  Hope you liked the book!

  Author’s Afterword

  This is a comment on the “science” in this science fiction novel. I’ve always been partial to science fiction that posed a “what if” question. Not everything in the story has to be scientifically plausible, but you suspend your disbelief regarding one or two things that aren’t thought to be possible. Then you ask, what if something (such as faster than light travel) were possible, how might that change our world?

  This story considers a couple of “what ifs?”

  What if telepathy was possible, but didn’t really let you transfer information from one brain to another? What if all it did was let you command that other brain to ignore, i.e. “not notice” something? Make you invisible? It doesn’t sound like a very powerful thing to be able to do, but if you give it thought, it turns out to have tremendous possibilities and ramifications.