The Journal: A Prophecy, A President & Death

by Parker, W. Leland

  She tries again, “Agent, there’s a bit more to this case than that.” They now approach a hall that separates from the commercial concourses. She continues, “A New York FBI agent, the husband of a neighbor, first brought this case. He noted that this kid had made several remarkable predictions and submitted it to our office for further investigation. His wife photographed the journal you mentioned and we’ve been able to verify some things that—well, quite frankly defy any other explanation.”

  Hinton, seeing the flight crew from his charter waiting for him, and even less patient than when he started, asks with a harsh tone, “Any other explanation than what?”

  Agent Coles may be young and lacking field experience, but she knows when someone is simply looking for an argument. She replies, “Any other explanation than you’ll find in the case file. Have a nice flight.”

  Saying nothing further, he jogs ahead to meet the waiting crew.

  • • •

  Hinton is barely in the seat before the plane starts to move. A young attendant, working with the FBI, apologizes for the rush, but explains that they are doing their best to get him to New York near his desired arrival time and they need to get the very next slot for takeoff. Unfortunately, with the time shift flying east a pre-midnight arrival is already impossible, but Deputy Director Danning has made arrangements for them to land at a private airstrip where a car with all he needs will be waiting. He is told that they should be on the ground shortly after midnight. That term, “shortly after midnight,” jogs Hinton’s memory, so he begins reviewing the case notes.

  Albert W. Hinton is 56 years old, tall, stern looking, single and generally somewhat cynical. Sadly, his fiancé was killed in the line of duty some years ago, and he’s been upset with the world ever since. He’s been with the Bureau for 30 years. Most of his contemporaries are in desk jobs, but Hinton loathes deskwork and has little patience for “Bureau-crats,” as he enjoys calling them. Looking at the page that tells of the fire, he reads an underlined statement, Shortly after midnight, fire will attack your home. He shakes his head in disbelief, whips out his cell and calls his boss.

  • • •

  Back in Washington, Bill Ramirez is just sliding up to the dinner table, and, as his wife Marcia places a plate of food in front of him, the phone rings. “Wow, somebody’s got bad timing,” she remarks.

  In agreement, he adds, “And an unconscious desire to be on my bad side.”

  She hands him his cell phone and looking at the caller ID, whispers, “It says, A. Hinton.”

  With a pained expression he whispers back, “Hmm, Albert …” then, with a slight smile, says to her, “Why are we whispering?” She hits him playfully and returns to the kitchen to prepare a nightcap for him. After a big sigh he answers, “This is Ramirez.”

  “Good evening, sir, this is Agent Hinton, if you have a moment.”

  “Just a moment, agent.”

  Hinton proceeds to bend his ear on his concerns on the case. “Sir, I believe this case is an example of what’s gone wrong with the Bureau. Instead of being the lead on protecting the US, we’re like some stepchild begging for scraps, while Homeland Security gets all of the high profile cases and the high tech provisions that comes with them! It’s like Appropriations actually thinks we’re like what you see on TV or in the movies, and even the Service thinks of us as babysitters for their low-priority projects.”

  Ramirez interrupts, “Al, that’s not true, and this is not a low-priority project. In fact it’s top priority.”

  “So this is the presidential detail?”

  “Agent, have you not read the case file?”

  “I’ve not completed it—no, but the summary alone shows this is exactly the kind of case we need to avoid! Following leads based on religious folklore. If someone tells them that they are a voodoo devil worshiper, and that they are hearing voices from dead chickens, what? Are we going to camp out all night at Purdue or Holly Farms? It’s so, I dunno … unprofessional.”

  Ramirez has heard enough, “Look agent, first, read the whole damn file before you call me at home and bad mouth the entire FBI leadership.” His wife is surprised to hear him so agitated. She walks over, places her hand on his shoulder and gives him his drink. He continues, “Read and learn that this is a presidential detail investigation! Read that this case requires someone who can quickly slip into a small town and blend in, which is why I personally selected you, and I consider that decision qualified and professional. Sure I had my doubts, but this comes from someone at the Service that I’d trust with my own daughter’s life, let alone the president’s.”

  Hinton tries to back pedal, “Sir, I didn’t mean–”

  “Believe me when I tell you, you don’t know anyone as thorough as Deputy Director Danning. The man could have done anything, he had his pick, but he chose Treasury and the Service. You know there’s going to be a car waiting for you at a private air field minutes from where you need to be, right?”

  “Yeah, that’s what they told me.”

  “Whose idea do you think that was? There’s a local driver’s license, hotel reservation, rental car, clothing, an equipment case, insurance claims adjuster ID Badge and paperwork.”

  Hinton, “Okaaaaay”

  “Our office helped carried it out, but who thinks of all that in one late evening phone call? He was trying to figure a way to get you insurance agent business cards for pity sake!”

  “I guess this is, uh–”

  “I wouldn’t send you on this if I hadn’t already asked the hard questions, and he answered every one of ’em. He’s got a mind for detail that’s scary, and this case scares him! Read the case file agent, and if you still think I’m being unprofessional then call me and I’ll look for a replacement, but one thing is for sure, I need you one hundred percent on this one or not at all.”

  Hinton, somewhat concerned, “Sir, now you sound scared.”

  Ramirez says calmly, “I am.”

  “Goodnight, sir. Pardon the interruption.”

  Ramirez, with a blank stare says, “Goodnight,” and hangs up his cell. His wife, Marcia, sits down across from him and looks him square in the eyes. He looks back into hers. The worry on his face speaks volumes. Though they’ve only been married three years, and it’s been whirlwind from proposal to a brand new daughter, she does know her husband pretty well, at least well enough to know when he’s really truly worried. And despite how well she knows him, she did not see the next question coming. “Sweetheart, do we have a … um. Do we own a Bible?”

  • • •

  “My gosh, Robert, we’ve been on this phone for about an hour!” says Joanna.

  Robert laughs, “Honey, it’s really been a lot more like two hours.”

  “Noooo!” she exclaims, “Can’t be.”

  As he collates the report that he’s been working on, he glances at his watch and adds, “I can promise you, it can.”

  With concern she asks, “You sound tired honey. Did I make you work even later?”

  Looking up to heaven as if to ask forgiveness he replies, “Noooo, not at all; we were already finishing up when I called you.”

  “Oh, good grief, Robert! I love you, but you’ve really got to stick to the truth, dear.”

  “That resembles the truth!” he admits, “I had just sent Carla home, and I wasn’t more than a half hour behind. I’ll be in the apartment before midnight.”

  Mortified she adds, “Oh, Robert—ugh, I wish … I pray that all goes well. Please drive– uh, walk safely home—I mean, to the apartment and get some sleep. Do you present in the morning?”

  “Yes, I will; and no, I don’t. I’m due to the meeting at ten, but my rehearsal presentation is after Ken and Joel’s. I won’t actually have to be coherent until about one p.m.”

  Still concerned, she replies, “And the real presentation is Monday right? So—well, okay. I love you, and I’ll be praying for you.”

  He closes with, “Thank you sweetheart, I love you more, and I promise
to be asleep by midnight. Let me say goodnight to Joe.”

  Joseph, by this point, has fallen asleep in his chair. He dreams a very strange dream. He’s out in back of the house gathering wood, and he hears a lot of commotion coming from the house … some crying and praying. He leaps over the house to the front and looking through the front wall he sees everyone gathered around looking at the television, like a national news bulletin or something. He doesn’t see his father at first but then there he is, standing on the TV with a big silly smile on his face like he just finished shouting, Surprise! His brother, James, runs out of the front of the house like he didn’t like the surprise, so Joseph goes up to grab him, but his mom reaches out for Joseph’s hand and calls him to her, “Joseph … Jooooseph.”

  In reality his mom is calling him to the phone, and he slowly emerges from his dream. In a loud whisper she calls, “Joseph!” he wakes up, and with her hand cupping the cordless phone she says, “its Dad,” and hands him the phone.

  “Hey, Dad,” he replies groggily.

  “Hello genius,” says his father. “Are you taking good care of Mom?”

  “Yes, Dad; I remember what you told me.”

  “Good. She told me you built a nice fire.”

  “Yeah. Wow, it’s almost out, what time is it?”

  “Getting close to midnight; in fact I’ve got to get to the apartment. I better go Joe; I promised your mom I’d be asleep by midnight.”

  “Okay, Dad.” He yawns and stretches. “We’ll see you tomorrow night?”

  “Lord willing. Tell your mom that I love her—Let me have your mom again.”

  “Okay. Mom?” Joanna is nowhere in sight. He tries again, “Moooooommmm … She disappeared.”

  From the basement she emerges, happy to take the phone again. She says to her husband, “I thought we said our goodnights.”

  Robert, “You know me, I like to end every conversation as if it was the last time I would get to talk to the love of my life. Sweetheart, thanks for being so good about this; I would much prefer to be with you two. This is probably the most important pitch I’ve had as the new guy, maybe ever … but I won’t allow this to be the norm, okay?”

  With a teary grateful smile she replies, “I know, lover.”

  He smiles and then becomes alarmed, “Sweetheart! Did Joe hear you call me that?”

  She laughs, “I don’t think so, but thanks for what you said. Have a good night—remember you said you’d be in bed by midnight, so goodnight! I love you.”

  He closes, “Goodnight.”

  Joseph interrupts her moment of sentimental joy, “Mom, what were you doing in the basement?”

  She gives a teasing reply as she heads upstairs for the night, “My, you sound like your brother. I was building a nuclear weapon!” As she reaches the top of the stairs she continues, “Just checking the basement door, making sure it was locked.”

  “That’s what you have me for. I’ll check the house before I come up; Dad told me to do that whenever he and Jim aren’t here.”

  “Okay, okay, I’ll leave it to you. Thank you; I’ll see you in the morning. And don’t forget–”

  Joseph finishes her sentence, “To make sure the fire is well out. Yes, Mom.” He proceeds to check the house; first things first, he checks the fireplace. The fire is indeed out; there’s some light smoldering, but nothing of substance to re-ignite the flame. Unseen by Joseph, however are a couple of dying embers that have blown up into the flue. Joseph proceeds to check the three doors on the main level. They are all locked, and the lights outside of them are all on. He double-checks the basement door and its light.

  He is only wearing jeans and a t-shirt, so he scampers out to the garage side door and checks that the door is locked and runs back. Much to his surprise, it does appear to be snowing, not more than a few flurries, but quite surprising for September. Back inside, he peers out of the windows to see if the gate is closed, and it is. And so with that, he feels his job is done. Noting the snow he considers closing the fireplace flue, but figuring there won’t be any accumulation, and not wanting the lingering smoke to fill the house, he leaves it open and heads upstairs for bed.

  Shortly after midnight, the wind really begins to pick up. The updraft of the fireplace begins to whistle loudly. Joanna and Joseph are both in deep sleep; the whistle is not so very loud in their bedrooms. It is at that point that our burning ember dislodges itself and finds its way onto the open pages of Joanna’s book, Pride and Prejudice, that she let fall to the floor hours ago.

  Shortly After Midnight

  Al Hinton is now running from the charter plane for a car waiting with everything prepared. A man emerges from the car, leaving it running, and hands him the paperwork and heads for the charter plane. Hinton takes a quick look in the trunk and finds everything that he needs to enter the small town under an assumed identity, so he speeds off.

  At the same time, newly promoted Agent Lauren Coles’ plane is beginning to make preparations to land. She’s worked straight through the flight and has already sent requests to the researchers working this case in her place. She’s flying business class and has a window seat, which affords her just enough privacy to look over the files that she already has essentially memorized. She doesn’t want to draw attention to herself, but her nerves are clearly getting the best of her. Dressed like a typical college coed in running pants and college sweatshirt, her sneakered foot shakes incessantly to try and ward off some of the anxiety.

  Of all the people on this case, Lauren Coles is perhaps the most acutely aware that it is now 12:30 a.m., and that, according to the prophecy of Joseph Market from eight years ago, shortly after midnight a fire will attack the Market home. What the prophecy does not indicate is whether that fire will take the life of Joseph himself, removing their opportunity to question him, and thus perhaps sealing the fate of the President of the United States.

  As if reading it for the hundredth time will reveal something more, she peeks under a top page that she uses to conceal her case file, and glances, yet again, at the prophecy itself. It’s typed text from a printout of a chat room conversation between James Market and a friend of his. What can be seen of it says, “… but the Lord; he is too wise to take Margaret the same night as her husband. She will pray to go; she will pray to go. Her heavenly husband is right and righteous; he loves his servant Margaret; he loves her more than she can know. She will be happy to serve the Lord nine more years; nine years, two weeks and two days. Sweetly will he visit her and tell her how well she served him as she sits wrapped in purple in her favorite reclining chair. Howard will visit her. He will lead her to the train. She will take the train home and her smile will never ever go away. One week hence, Saturday, shortly after midnight, fire will attack your home, Joseph, a destructive fire. It will destroy what your mom loves; it will bring this message to a close, for seven days later, your newly elected president will die. No one will cry for him. His term in office will be short.”

  Lauren’s mind is racing! She seems afraid to look at the next page. It is a print of the diary page, and one glance shows why she hates it. It reads, “The secret service men couldn’t keep him from dying, nor was the FBI able to stop it, he died as he should have, and it served God’s purpose to do it.”

  Her deep thought is interrupted by the stewardess asking her to fasten her seat belt. Lauren smiles nicely and complies. She turns and looks out of the window and mumbles with frustration, “God, why did they wait so late to get started on this!”

  • • •

  Fire has now hungrily consumed the Jane Austen classic, which was dropped a little too close to the fireplace for it’s own good. Our small inexhaustible ember has now grown strong and taken control of the magazine rack next to Joanna’s favorite chair, and is now eying the chair itself. The smoke is working its way toward the smoke detector, but just a little too slowly.

  • • •

  Al Hinton has arrived in town and spots a diner that, according to his map, is conven
iently located across from the fire station closest to the Market home. To his surprise, everything seems to be quiet. He’s almost disappointed to find that it looks like he’s right after all, and all this is a lot to do about nothing. Nonetheless he does what he’s so good at, knowing that an all-night diner in a town like this can be a treasure trove of information. He blends in and learns everything he can about the prophetic Joseph Market.

  As it turns out, Joseph caused quite the stir when he was five. It’s one thing to read about it in the newspapers clippings and notes of Agent Coles case file, but another entirely when the people who were there tell you, first hand. The fact that they recall it so well points to the fact that it was a big deal! He’s introduced himself as an insurance adjuster newly assigned to this area, and is at this point striking up a conversation with the manager of the 24-hour diner. The diner is primarily in business to serve the police, fire, and emergency workers, and is conveniently located across from the fire department, two blocks from the police station and three from the local hospital; just about everyone who patrons the diner works for, or is connected to, one of those three public services.

  This early morning the place is all but empty; only one of the ten tables is occupied, and there are just five people sitting at the bar. Hinton continues his friendly conversation with the diner manager, now joined by the fire department’s shift supervisor, and a nurse who’s just off from her shift. At the end of the bar, listening—but not listening—is a lone police officer stereotypically enjoying a donut and coffee as his shift begins.

  Hinton has manipulated the discussion towards his goals by talking about bizarre cases he’s had to work. He fashions a story where a little girl was possessed like in that Exorcist movie.

  At that point, Karen, the sweet 60-something waitress serving them tells him, “There was a time when I sat on a committee, here at our local church, that was trying to decide if it should ask a family to leave our congregation on account of somethin’ like that. Their son was hearing voices in church that had a lot of people scared”