The Journal: A Prophecy, A President & Death

by Parker, W. Leland

  Hinton goes to the front door to see if any new cars have pulled up. The Markets meanwhile go in to the dining room.

  “Mr. Hinton,” calls out Robert Market, “we are about to say grace.”

  “Okay, I’ll be– Actually go ahead without me.” He changed his mind mid-sentence when he noticed a 10-speed bicycle partially stuffed into the hedges between the Market home and the house next door—a bright fire-engine red bicycle! He doesn’t remember seeing it there before, and for the always-suspicious agent, something is not right about it. He secures the front door as best he can, wedging a nearby chair under the doorknob, and walks quickly down the hall to the back door unlatching his service weapon as he goes.

  Meanwhile, Robert Market continues to pray for their meal as well as their health and safety.

  Hinton slips out the back door and almost immediately encounters a young man, who looks to be in his late teens or early twenties, in the neighbor’s back yard! He calls out to him, “Excuse me.”

  But the young man does not reply and slips around the far side corner of the neighbor’s house out of sight! The agent runs full speed between the two houses to the front yard and draws his weapon en route.

  Spotting the same young man walking away from him up the street, Hinton takes the safety off of his weapon, which is at his side, but raises his badge and barks out the command, “Federal agent. Stop! Place your hands on your head and back this way.”

  The young man stops in his tracks facing away from Hinton. His face is a match for the face on picture that Bruce Watson has with him in the car.

  Watson is on his way to talk to Hinton, and even though he’s almost there, he still doesn’t know why he’s going or what he’ll say.

  The young man only partially obeys Hinton. He has stopped, but he does not, however, place his hands on his head; he instead, slowly turns around to face him. On closer inspection he is not quite as young as he seemed, perhaps mid to late thirties. He is thin, about five feet ten, with a very hard and cold expression on his face. He’s wearing tennis shoes and blue jeans, and a short, fall jacket that does not betray the fact that he has at least two concealed weapons—that is, unless he lifts his hands!

  At precisely that moment, Bruce Watson turns his truck onto their street and comes driving down towards them, approaching from behind Hinton. In preparation for speaking with Hinton, Watson lowers his car window just in time to see the insurance adjuster point a pistol at the suspect and command, “Sir, I’m a federal agent, and I’d like you to see those hands on your head!”

  The suspect replies, “Um, I’m just a delivery boy coming to–”

  “Tell me with YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD!” snaps Hinton!

  The suspect begins to reach inside his jacket saying, “Let me show you my–”

  “NOW!”

  Bruce Watson, who is now right next to Hinton, has a clear view of the other man; sees his gun, sees the bicycle in the bushes, and recognizing him, says out loud, “Calvin. That’s Calvin. Calvin Stone!”

  Hearing that, Hinton drops his badge and crouches down while simultaneously pulling out his walkie-talkie, saying, “I’ve got Calvin Stone at the Market house!” He then shouts at Calvin, “I am about to shoot you delivery boy and the ten agents less than a block away will carry off your dead body! NOW PUT YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD!”

  At that precise moment a Secret Service vehicle turns the corner, and most reluctantly, Calvin Stone finally capitulates. With his hands clasped on the crown of his head, his jacket raised up reveals a veritable arsenal of pistols, darts and tranquilizers on his person.

  Hinton, “Good! Now kneel down!”

  The Secret Service vehicle, aware of Hinton’s radio announcement, has its flashing lights on and blocks the street from the West, and two NSA vehicles do likewise from the East.

  Bruce Watson has a front row seat to all that is going on, his head snaps left and right as he sees Secret Service vehicle blocking the road in front of him and the NSA vehicles in his rearview mirror. To his left is Agent Hinton, his gun still trained on Calving Stone, and two agents emerging from the Service vehicle! Momentarily self-conscious he slides down in his seat to be a little less conspicuous while calling his friend, Officer Anderson, on the walkie-talkie. Reaching him he says:

  “Uh, Mark, Maaark. You may want to get over to the Market house. Um, it’s uh … a major thing happening here.” As the suspected assassin kneels, one of the agents from the Service runs up from behind, securing the capture of Calvin Stone.

  • • •

  At the Market house the breakfast feast sits abandoned on the dining room table. Lauren has the entire family in the basement, in fact all four are locked in the bathroom, and only Lauren is outside, her weapon drawn and pointing up the basement stairs, at the door. Her heart is pounding, and her eyes are keen for even the slightest turn of the doorknob.

  Not surprisingly, the Markets—though quiet as feathers, as Lauren requested—take the time to pray their way through the tense ordeal!

  After about five minutes of excruciating quiet, where ears strain to hear something and make more out of every sound, comes a wonderful sentence from Laurens’ walkie-talkie, “The suspect is in custody.”

  Lauren lets out the biggest sigh of relief of her life saying, quietly, “Thank God.” Lowering and holstering her weapon, she calls out to the family. “Mr. and Mrs. Market, guys, it’s over. They got him!”

  Shouts of praise erupt from the bathroom.

  James is the first to emerge. He walks directly over to Lauren; looks her in the eyes and says softly, “Are you okay?”

  She looks up, takes a deep breath, then looks back at him and says very quietly, “Yes, thank you.”

  To which he says, “Thank you!” It is over at 10:00 am.

  Joanna comes over next, then Joseph and Robert. They all give her heartfelt congratulations and thanks. Just when it looked like Joanna begins to tear up, the voice of George Sandoval is heard calling for the Market family from upstairs:

  “Hellooo. Agent Coles? Mr. Market?”

  “We’re coming, Sandoval,” says Lauren, and they all go upstairs.

  Coming through the door Sandoval gives Lauren a hearty handshake and congratulates her. She smiles a broad and nerve dissipating smile. She asks, “Where’s Agent Hinton? He’s the one who should be congratulated.”

  Sandoval, “He has to file the arrest report and he’s talking with NSA.”

  James and Joseph both say, “NSA?”

  Lauren just smiles and says, “Oh, boy! Here we go.”

  Sandoval, “You haven’t gotten to that part?”

  “No,” ays Lauren.

  Joanna then announces to everyone, “Hey, everyone. Look, this food cannot go to waste here!”

  Lauren looks at Sandoval and asks, “Isn’t there something I should be doing?”

  Sandoval looks at all the delicious food; looks outside; looks down and adjusts his walkie-talkie; then says, “Nothing that can’t wait fifteen minutes!”

  So they all sit down to Joanna’s feast. Joseph, Joanna, Robert, James, and Lauren.

  Sandoval asks, “Does it matter where I sit?”

  Joanna, “I figured you in either of those three spaces, though I think Mr. Hinton was eyeing the seat in front of you.”

  Sandoval takes the seat and says, “Oh, this one is just perfect.”

  As they serve themselves and talk, Joanna collects a plate of food for Hinton to sequester for safekeeping. She methodically gets him a good portion of absolutely everything, and takes it into the kitchen to cover with plastic wrap. They all seem to enjoy Joanna’s cooking, but Sandoval, in particular, is gobbling it up like there’s no tomorrow.

  Feeling eyes upon him he looks up and Lauren asks, “I thought you said we had time!”

  Still eating, Sandoval says, “We do, but in this job you never know, things can change quickly, and time has a way of disappearing.”

  “Well, your food is sure disappearing!” says Lau
ren with an impressed smile.

  Robert laughs, and getting up from the table says, “It’s okay Mr. Sandoval, the food was blessed. I’m sure it’ll all go down well.”

  While prepping the plate Joanna fights back tears of joy. Robert follows her into the kitchen, and coming up behind her, places his hands on and begins massaging her shoulders saying, “In all things, God works for the good of those who love him.” She turns around just buries her head in his chest, letting her emotions flow into his loving embrace.

  • • •

  Hinton exits a van at the corner of the block that has Calvin Stone and two NSA agents inside. As the door shuts, Stone sits staring, stone faced and resolute on not giving, even the slightest bit of information to his captors. The van pulls off and Hinton walks back down the street to place some files in his car when suddenly his stomach reminds him of the delicious breakfast he had to abandon. He tosses the files on the seat, checks his walkie-talkie, and makes a bee line for the Market home.

  He’s not taken two steps, when Bruce Watson comes over to congratulate him. “Sir, I was … I was … “ Hinton strains his eyes as if they will help the Fire Commander finish his sentence; but to no avail, as Watson just gushes forth with more incomplete sentences, “You know …”

  Hinton, who is torn between being patient and being hungry, says through a forced smile, “Surprised?”

  Which helps Watson add, “Heck, try shocked!”

  “Okay, let’s go with shocked.”

  “I had no idea that you– And then, Cal Stone … Man!”

  Hinton then says with genuine appreciation, “I was doing what they pay me for, but you, sir; You were a terrific help, and I thank you.” He shakes his hand warmly and looks him square in the eyes saying, “I owe you one.”

  Watson picks up on his sincerity and says, “Well thanks. I couldn’t believe that it all … it all–”

  “Worked out!” says Hinton.

  “Yes!”

  They both laugh with relief. Hinton smiles broadly; amused by Watson’s affected manner of speaking, and says, “Yes. It sure did.” He thinks a moment, then says, “Bruce, let me ask you something. What were you doing driving down the street when you were?”

  “Funny thing,” says Watson, “I was coming to see you.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah, but I–”

  “Why me? And you had my number, why didn’t you just call?”

  “Yeah, that’s the funny part. I’m not sure why. I just … you know, felt an urge to come talk to you.”

  “About what?”

  “And, that’s the really funny part. It was about this kid on a red bike that I saw.”

  Hinton looks over at Calvin’s bike, then back at Watson and says, “Red, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Hmm. Well, Mr. Watson, if you’ll excuse me, I need to–”

  “Sure, sure,” says Watson.

  As Hinton takes two more steps, up walks Officer Mark Anderson. He takes his hand saying “Congratulations, sir.” The smile Hinton tries to return is knocked crooked by his stomach’s next loud reminder that his food is waiting! He says a gracious, “Thank you, it was a good day for our team.”

  Watson, who is but a few steps away, says to the two of them, “So I guess this guy was plotting against the president, huh?”

  Hinton turns around and looks at him quite perplexed, “What makes you say that?”

  Anderson just buries his head in his hand and mumbles, “Oh, no!”

  Watson continues, “Well, isn’t that what all this is about? The prophecy.”

  “The prophecy?” says Hinton.

  Watson, “Isn’t this THE day”

  Hinton, “What THE day?”

  Anderson, with his head still in his hand says, “THE DAY that, according to a prophecy from like ten years ago, the President of the United States was going to die, today!”

  Hinton’s poker face doesn’t completely reveal his shock, but with wide eyes he takes a quick glance around and then says, “Look, gentlemen, you are both professional civil servants so I’ll say this.”

  Anderson lifts up his head utterly surprised to hear what sounds to be credence to Watson’s wild concepts!

  Watson cocks his head in his direction, definitely delivering an expression of, “I told you so!”

  Hinton continues, “I will need to speak with my office before I can make any definite statement, but I’m not going to stand here and try and convince two pros like you that the FBI and NSA could be in their town and it not have any high office implications.” Watson and Anderson look at each other. “But as professionals I’m expecting I can trust you to keep this under wraps until Monday morning.”

  Watson and Mark, both say, “Sure, sure. Not a word to anybody. We’ll look to hear from you tomorrow;” and walk back towards their cars.

  Hinton gives a sigh, then turns to finally go to his meal when he all but runs into two bomb squad agents who had walked up behind him. “Agent Hinton? This is Cox, I’m Parker; we’re with demolitions. Agent Brown said you know where to go.”

  “Agent Brown? Who’s–”

  “He’s one of the new guys from the Service, over there, on the front porch.”

  Under his breath, Hinton says, “The front porch of the house with my breakfast!”

  Parker, “What’s that, sir?”

  “Nothing, nothing. Follow me.” As they walk around the Market house to where George Sandoval had spotted the suspicious device, Hinton spies through the window and sees Sandoval at his seat stuffing his face! Only Sandoval notices Hinton through the window and salutes him with the fork full of pancakes.

  Hinton grabs his walkie and says, “Agent Sandoval, you are needed OUTSIDE of the Market home.”

  Sandoval kind of wags his head a little with a smile, his cheeks stuffed with food, and gets up from the table. “Welp,” he chews; “’twas good …” chews some more and swallows, “while it lasted.” He wipes his mouth with a napkin and says, “Thank you kind lady, thank you all.”

  He goes out the back door and is met by Hinton in the backyard who says only one word to him in Spanish, “Comeloncito!” Which only makes him laugh. Loosely translated, Hinton in his limited Spanish has just called him a little glutton! He then introduces him to the demolition experts to review and deal with the device he located on the side of the Market home.

  As Hinton at long last heads inside for his breakfast, Sandoval sneaks in the last word, “I know where you slept last night, sir. And you still owe me that Jackson!” and the back door shuts.

  Hinton comes in through the back door to an empty kitchen. He notices a covered plate of food on the stove and calls out, “Helloooo?”

  Robert replies, “We’re still in here Mr. Hinton.” Leaning over the counter into the dining room he says, “Is this delicious looking plate of food by any chance for me?”

  Joanna gets up from the table saying, “Yes, Mr. Hinton, let me help you;” and goes into the kitchen to see to his needs.

  Lauren leans over to James and says, “Your mom is so accommodating. It’s amazing.”

  To which James replies, “I know. She’s always loved being the hostess. It’s like, her calling.” James thinks a moment and then turns and just stares at Lauren.

  She sees him and with a slight smile says, “Is there something you need James Market?”

  He just shakes his head in disbelief and says, “So, you’re a Secret Service agent.”

  She smiles and says, “Yes. Yes, I am.”

  “THAT’S amazing. And, if you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?”

  “Well, in any other circumstance I’d make you guess, but since I already told your mom, I’m twenty-four. Just turned.”

  “Really. When was your birthday?”

  “Close.”

  “Okay I get it. You’d rather not say. I’ll trade that question for a bigger one.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “How much of our drive conversation
was the job, and how much was, you know, us.”

  Lauren smiles and blushes a little. “Well, anything I asked about Joey, or events or circumstances surrounding his gifts, was the job; everything else was … us.”

  He smiles broadly and says, “Okay.” He thinks a moment then leans closer to her and says, “So what happens now?”

  At that moment Agent Hinton enters the room with his big plate of food and says, “Okay folks, good news, we believe the worst is over. So, with Miss Coles’ permission, I’d like to tell you what happens now.”

  Lauren and James give each other a glance; then she beckons Hinton, “By all means Agent Hinton.”

  He takes his original seat, which was next to Joseph and continues, “We have three things all happening at the same time.” He takes a big mouthful of food.

  While he chews, Joseph whispers to him, “Don’t worry, we blessed the food.”

  Hinton smiles and winks at him. Having barely swallowed he continues, “First, and foremost, is the search for Joe’s journal. Once we find it, and we’re sure Stone is our man, we will effectively end our official duties here in town.”

  Hearing this Lauren and James give each other a look. Joanna looks at the both of them.

  “Second,” he turns to Joanna and comments, “This is delicious by the way, thank you.” She nods in acceptance of his compliment, and he continues, “We will be talking to a person of interest, Carla Brayson.”

  Robert interrupts, “Carla. My admin, Carla?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “But, why. How? She’s not involved in this!”

  “Well, sir, we need to check a few things. You and I can talk about that in a moment.”

  “No way she had any connection to any of this.”

  “We still need to check, sir. And third, we need to collect all our data and bring all our findings to the Service,” and looking over at Joseph, “to make a last ditch effort to see if anything can be done.” He takes a bite of food, and after he washes it down with orange juice, says, “Then, I guess we’ll just have to wait this thing out;” an acknowledgement that brings a somber tone to the discussion and the room. He returns his attention to eating.