The Second Shooter

by E. A. Briginshaw

  When Robert entered their room, he found David lying on his bed staring at the ceiling. He looked as white as a ghost.

  “Is everything okay?” Robert asked.

  David continued to just stare at the ceiling. “Ashley broke up with me,” he finally said. “I don’t understand. We were perfect for each other.”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  David still hadn’t blinked. “She said she’s started seeing someone – someone in her art class.”

  “I’m sorry,” Robert said.

  “Did you hear me?” David said as he sat up. “An artist – a fucking artist. He doesn’t play any sports – not one!”

  Robert put down his backpack and sat down in David’s desk chair. This was going to be a long night.

  * * *

  On the following Thursday, Robert talked his brother into going with them to their Magic gathering. He had to do something; David had been moping around for several days.

  “Now, remember – try not to be so aggressive,” Robert advised Vanessa. He had created a card deck for her that he was sure would help her do better than she had the first time she played.

  Vanessa looked through her deck. “I think I need more blue cards.” Blue cards were used in the game by players who wanted to use a strategy of trickery and manipulation. She looked at David. “Do you have any blue cards that you’re willing to trade?”

  David had brought his own deck. He knew the basics of the game, but wasn’t into it as much as his brother. “Sure. I’ll give you a blue one if you give me a white one.” White’s values were order, protection, light and law.

  “Done,” Vanessa said.

  “Be careful,” Robert advised. “Building a strong deck is pretty hard.”

  “We’re okay,” Vanessa said. “I’ll trade you another white for one of your black cards,” Vanessa said to David. Black was the colour of death, ambition and darkness.

  “Don’t do it,” Robert warned.

  “Afraid I’m going to take you down?” Vanessa teased.

  “Bring it on,” Robert said. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Less than an hour later, both David and Vanessa had been eliminated from the game. Robert didn’t finish first, but he had done a lot better than they did.

  “Do you want to get a coffee?” Robert asked them as they were leaving.

  “How about the Bombshelter?” Vanessa asked. “I think David here needs something a little stronger.”

  The Bombshelter was the pub located in the basement of the Student Life Centre. It was appropriately named, but the decor didn’t seem to matter to the numerous undergrads who frequented the place.

  “I’m up for it,” David said.

  Robert wasn’t that keen, but it was the first sign of life he’d seen out of his brother in days, so he relented.

  “Sorry to hear you broke up with your girlfriend,” Vanessa said to David when they were at the pub.

  “Thanks. I thought we were perfect for each other, but she’s started seeing an artist. An artist – can you believe that?”

  “What about that girl I saw you with at the café last week? She looked interesting.”

  “Oh, she’s definitely interesting,” David said. “But I screwed that one up as well. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not very good with women.”

  David was turning this into a pity party. It didn’t take him long to knock back several beers.

  Vanessa tried to change the subject. “Why don’t you tell me what happened to you in Chicago?”

  David told her the story about his arrest in Chicago. He also told her how he had snuck across the border. She seemed fascinated with how clever he was.

  “Come on, you must have taken a peek at what was in those files,” Vanessa said. She had been knocking drinks back at a pretty good pace herself and was beginning to gush over David.

  He seemed to be enjoying the attention. “No, the files were encrypted. I don’t know what was in them.” He leaned over and whispered into Vanessa’s ear. “But I think it’s something the government is trying to cover-up.”

  “No shit,” Vanessa said. “I’d sure like to see what was in those files. Do you have a copy?”

  “I did, but not anymore.” David was really starting to slur his words.

  “What happened to it?”

  “The professor said someone took it.”

  “What professor?”

  “One of the prof’s at Waterloo – His email address is Enigma.” Along with slurring his words, David was getting louder and louder. “Enigma. Is that a cool handle, or what?”

  “Okay, I think it’s time to call it a night,” Robert said. He had been sipping the same beer all night and was several drinks behind David and Vanessa. “I think you’ve both had enough.”

  Robert had an arm on each of them as he helped them up the stairs out of the pub. He was glad to see a taxi parked outside and helped Vanessa into the back seat.

  “Make sure she gets home safely,” he said to the driver. He handed him a twenty dollar bill.

  “For sure,” the driver said. He knew the address that Vanessa had given him was only about a ten dollar fare away.

  “And could you call another cab for my brother and I?”

  The driver used his radio to call another taxi. “It should be here in less than five.”

  “You’re a good brother,” David said after the taxi had left. He leaned in and gave him a hug. “Thanks for taking care of me.”

  “Someone’s got to,” Robert said.

  * * *

  The following morning David was up early because he had soccer practice. The first time he got out of bed, he felt dizzy and he was sure he was going to throw up, but he fought through it. The coach had told all of the players how important it was to attend practices and David wanted to live up to his commitments.

  He stepped out of the building and began the walk to the stadium, which was only a few blocks away. The air was crisp this morning, which made him feel a bit better. He’d woken up several times the night before in a hot sweat.

  As he walked along the sidewalk, he recognized the big black car parked against the curb. “Can I give you a ride?” Simon Westbrook asked.

  “Sure,” David said as he climbed into the passenger seat.

  “You look like hell,” Mr. Westbrook said. “Rough night?”

  “It’s been rough the whole week.”

  Mr. Westbrook pulled away from the curb and made several unnecessary turns, checking his rear-view mirror each time to make sure they weren’t being followed. He finally pulled into a deserted parking lot in front of a building that had large black letters and numbers etched into the glass.

  “Where are we?” David asked.

  “This is the Optometry building. One of my best friends went to school here – one of only two such schools in all of Canada.”

  David looked at the glass entrance again. He subconsciously started reading the letters of varying sizes as if he was reading an eye chart. Except this glass wall had sort of a 3D holographic effect. He suddenly felt nauseous again and had to look away.

  “I brought you something,” Mr. Westbrook said as he reached into the back seat of the car. He gave David a laptop that looked almost identical to the one that had been confiscated by the U.S. prosecutor. “It should work exactly the same as your old one.”

  David unzipped his soccer bag, lifted up the panel in the bottom of the bag, and slid the laptop inside.

  “We never did find the microchip in the professor’s office,” Mr. Westbrook said.

  David looked alarmed. “The professor said someone removed it from the back of the picture of his wife. I figured it was you. Who else could have taken it?”

  “Probably the same people who have been watching you. They’re desperate to recover all copies of whatever’s in those files.”

  “I’m sorry,” David said. “I guess I shouldn’t have hidden it with the professor.”

  “It’s
not your fault.” Mr. Westbrook started up the car. “We should go – don’t want you to be late for practice.”

  They drove back toward University Stadium, again taking some unnecessary turns to make sure they weren’t being followed. Mr. Westbrook stopped the car about a block away from the stadium.

  “This will be our last face-to-face meeting,” he said as David got out of the car. “I’ll send a message to you on your computer if I need you to do anything else. It’s probably best to keep a low profile for the time being. And please – please be careful.”

  * * *

  When Professor Livingston arrived at his office that morning, he did what he had done every morning for the last four days – check the status of his code-breaking program. Whoever had designed the encryption algorithm was good, because it normally didn’t take this long to crack. However, this morning the terminal displayed the message he was waiting for – Decryption completed.

  He scanned the list of files displayed on his computer and opened a few of them to make sure the decryption had been successful. Everything looked good. It appeared they were just a series of reports, nothing out of the ordinary as far as he could see.

  He picked up his phone to call David, but it went to voice-mail. “Hi, it’s Professor Nigel Livingston. I’ve managed to get a copy of the files you wanted. Give me a call or send me an email if you still want them.”

  Then he turned his focus to the thing he was really interested in – the encryption algorithm.

  It was a few hours later when David called him back, after he had finished soccer practice. “I can’t believe you recovered the files.”

  “I told you there wasn’t an encryption that I couldn’t crack,” the professor bragged. “Do you still want the files or should I just delete them?”

  “Sure. Could you burn them to a CD for me?”

  “No problem, but it will take several CDs. There’s quite a lot of data. Do you want to swing by my office to pick them up when they’re ready?”

  “No, it’s probably better if we meet somewhere else. I’ll call you later with a location. I’ve got classes all day so it probably won’t be until this evening.”

  “Or tomorrow,” the professor said. “I’m in no rush.”

  “We’d better not wait until tomorrow. Somebody pinched these files from your office once already. I’d rather not give them a second chance.”

  * * *

  When he got back to his residence, David pulled the laptop out of his soccer bag and fired it up.

  “May have recovered files,” he typed into the computer. “Picking them up later tonight. What should I do with them?”

  It was only a few minutes later when David received a response. “Too dangerous. You are being watched. Please advise time and location of meeting. Will provide backup.”

  David hadn’t set a time or location with the professor yet. Too dangerous? Why would it be dangerous? He was sure he could shake a few cops if they were still tailing him.

  He entered his response into the computer. “Time and location TBD.”

  * * *

  Burning all of these files to CDs was taking the professor a lot longer than he expected. 10% completed. 12% completed. And this was just the second CD of about six that would be required. This was going to take forever. He decided to take a look at what was in some of the files while he waited.

  The first few files he opened seemed to be just page after page of notes and reports. Boooring.

  He opened one of the larger files and saw that it was a video. As soon as he saw it, he knew what it was. It was a video of JFK on that fateful day in 1963, but this wasn’t the Zapruder film that the whole world had seen before. This video was shot from an entirely different angle.

  The professor watched as the President’s motorcade approached. The President was smiling and waving to the crowd, as was Jackie Kennedy. Suddenly everything changed. The President reached up to his throat with both hands. Jackie grabbed his left elbow and seemed to be trying to figure out what the problem was. A split-second later, the President’s head exploded. Even though the professor knew what was going to happen, he still felt sick to his stomach when he saw it.

  Why hadn’t anyone seen this video before?

  The professor clicked on the next video file. Once again, this was a video that he’d never seen before. It was shot from the grassy knoll. Like the other one, it showed the President smiling and waving to the crowd. But then it quickly changed, as if whoever was holding the camera had fallen down or dropped the camera. It showed nothing but a close-up of the grass for a few seconds. Then the camera moved again, as whoever was holding the camera tried to pick it up.

  That’s when the professor saw it – the flash of gunfire from behind the wall.

  He had seen the second shooter.

  The professor grabbed his phone to call David. “David, please pick up.” But his call went to voice-mail again. “David – I looked at the files. I know who the second shooter is.”

  *** Chapter 22 ***

  “We can’t run this,” Lou said when Laura appeared in his doorway at the Chicago Tribune. “This is just hypothesis and speculation. There’s no real evidence or facts.”

  Laura reached out and caught the copy when he threw it in her direction. Although she had been working hard on the story for the last few days, she knew he was right. “I’ll keep digging.”

  When she got back to her desk, she started to call Todd but then hung up before the call went through. She had promised she wouldn’t call him anymore, but she was desperate. She needed someone with inside knowledge. This wasn’t personal – this was for her story. She dialed the number again.

  She was surprised when the call was redirected to the main switchboard. “Federal Bureau of Investigation – How may I direct your call?”

  Laura briefly thought about hanging up, but then reconsidered. This was the FBI; they’d be able to figure out who was calling regardless. “I’d like to speak to agent Todd Knight please.”

  “Just a moment please.”

  It was almost a minute later when someone came on the line. “This is agent Brian Clark. How may I help you?”

  Laura recognized the name as he had been Todd’s partner at the bureau for quite a few years. He knew of her past relationship with Todd. “Hi Brian. This is Laura Walsh. I’m trying to get ahold of Todd. Do you have a number where I can reach him?”

  “I wish I did. When’s the last time you spoke to him?”

  “Almost a week ago now. Why?”

  “Because he resigned four days ago. We haven’t heard from him since.”

  “Resigned? Are you sure? He said he was going to burn some of his overtime and get away somewhere, but he didn’t say anything about resigning.”

  “Well, something’s got him really upset. He was acting really weird.”

  Laura sighed. “I think I might know what caused it. It might have been me – something I said.”

  “Well the Director said he’d just hold onto his resignation for a few weeks – not do anything just in case he changed his mind. He’s a great agent – the best – took his oath to defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic to heart.”

  Laura knew how seriously Todd took his commitment to his duty. Resigning just didn’t make sense.

  “Let me know if you hear from him,” Laura said, “and I’ll do the same.”

  After she hung up the phone, Laura recalled the last voice-mail that Todd had left her. “I’ll be going away for a while – maybe a week – maybe forever.” Now she was really worried.

  * * *

  David had felt his cellphone vibrate in his pocket several times while he was in class so he knew someone was trying to reach him. But he also knew his calculus professor was strictly against anyone using their cellphone during his lectures. There had already been several confiscated by him in previous classes and David didn’t want his to be next.

  When the class was o
ver, David was standing in the hallway about to pick up his messages when he noticed someone watching him. It was Bronx.

  “I think it’s about time you apologized to me,” she said.

  David had been avoiding her ever since their incident in the café. “I wasn’t sure you’d ever talk to me again.”

  “Still waiting.”

  “You’re right – I’m sorry. I was just trying to get to know more about you.”

  “No you weren’t. You were gradin’ me like I was just a profile on one of your stupid questionnaires.”

  David knew she was right. “I’m sorry.”

  “If you want to get to know me, you just have to spend more time with me.”

  “Is that still a possibility?”

  “Maybe. Call me later and I’ll let you know.”

  He watched as Bronx headed off to her next class. He would definitely be calling her later.

  When he looked at his phone, he was surprised to see he had five missed calls from Professor Livingston, plus three voice-mails. The first voice-mail was the one where he said he knew who the second shooter was. The second voice-mail was a frantic message asking him to call him back. David listened to the third message.

  “I’ve got the CD’s, but I don’t want to meet at the university. Someone might be watching. I’m going to sneak out a back door and I’ll meet you at the bus stop at Sunview and University at eight tonight. Don’t be late.”

  * * *

  With each passing day of fall, the days were getting shorter and shorter. Even though it was only about five in the afternoon, it was already starting to get dark as Todd pulled into the almost deserted parking lot of a building alongside the University of Waterloo. He pulled out his Blackberry and noted that the logo on his phone matched the logo on the building he was parked beside.

  He texted the following message: “In position. Waiting for instructions.”

  It was only a few minutes later when his cellphone chirped. “Sunview & University. 8:00 pm.”