Mind Games

by Moore, TJ

  “I don’t have to try.”

  “Really?” Amy placed her left hand squarely on her hip and beamed the flashlight straight into Vince’s eyes. “You should do stand-up comedy, Vince. Just go down to the famer’s market and plug in a microphone. They’re already equipped with plenty of vegetables to throw when you start your spray of off-color tripe.”

  “Thanks for the tip.” Vince turned to Cameron. “And she saysI’m the diva.”

  Amy attributed Vince’s flippant behavior to the possibility that he was still going through puberty. That was the only explanation that made sense to her anymore.

  Cameron tried to ignore their banter and explored further into the basement. He followed the muddy boot-prints back towards the bottom of the basement stairs and noticed a faint glint of light under the stairwell. He leaned down and peered under the final step.

  The gun. Bingo.

  *Click* *Flash!*

  “Amy, we’ve got a gun over here.”

  “Nice work, Cam.” She reached under the stairs and removed the pistol: a Colt M1911 with a silencer. Amy bagged the gun and studied the muddy boot-prints on the basement floor. Moving around the prints, she positioned her body where the mud collected in a series of stomps. Amy held out her fingers like a gun. “So, the shooter probably stood about here, across from the pool table. And, Stefani was standing by the couch…”

  “Then they had an argument about the drugs,” Vince interrupted.

  “Not necessarily.” She widened her stance and squinted one of her eyes. “Either way, he shot Stefani. Three shots.Bang, Bang, Bang.”

  “Hold on,” Vince said. “The neighbors called in because they heard shots, but this gun was silenced. Besides, Stefani only has one bullet wound in his gut. Not three.”

  “You’re right.” Amy followed the boot-prints back to the stairs. “So, if the perp shot Stefani and fled out the kitchen window, then what caused the shots heard by the neighbors?”

  Vince looked back under the stairs before he turned around and saw three bullet holes in the drywall. “There has to be another gun.”

  Amy paced backwards towards Stefani’s limp body. “Looks like there was a shoot-out here. And it seems Stefani was a lousy shot.” She raised her imaginary gun up again, this time pointing it towards the killer’s position. “Bang, Bang, Bang. All misses…then…”

  “Bang!” Vince mimicked the killer. “The deadly shot.”

  “Yes. So, the neighbors heard Stefani’s gun instead of the murder weapon. Maybe the guns were fired hours apart.” Even in the dim light, Cameron could see a slight grin flash across Amy’s face. “Or maybe we’re over-thinking this. Stefani’s watch could have been set wrong way before his death. Days even.”

  “The Rolex? You’re right,” Vince said. “Those things don’t break so easily. I could understand if he fell from a tall building or something, but not five feet.”

  “Okay,” Cameron said. “But where’s Stefani’s gun?”

  Amy circled Stefani with her light. She checked under the couch, behind a bookshelf, and even under a large rug. No gun.

  “I think I know where it is,” Vince said, moving towards the victim. “Move back. It’s under the body.”

  “Nice try,” Amy said, pointing her flashlight up to the ceiling tiles to reveal a small hole punched into the styrofoam material. “It’s not under the body. It’s above it.”

  Vince reached up and removed a second gun. “So, Stefani missed three times, got blasted by the killer...then what? The killer hid both guns?”

  “Looks that way,” Amy said. “Hey, Cam. I want some detailed pictures where we found the gun.”

  Amy loved making these kinds of discoveries. When she was only fifteen years old, she experienced something she would never forget. After a late night movie at a cheap seat theater, two of Amy’s friends were mugged. The thug stole her friends’ money and left them black and blue. Amy just barely escaped, but only because she ran a moment before the thug hit her friend. And as she ran, Amy only looked back once to see the face of the mugger. After the crime, the two friends never spoke to her. She’d left them in that alley to face the danger and humiliation alone. Worst of all, they knew she had been a coward. She wanted to prove them wrong.

  Enough years passed so that Amy didn’t think she could identify the thug in a lineup. Her current reputation as a badass detective brought respect from others in her field, but few of them knew the truth about her past. Amy’s career choice had been fueled by more guilt than bravery.

  Vince walked to the east wall. “Now, we’re not leaving here without one of those cute fish in a sack.” Then he saw something hanging just above the beat-up couch: a dartboard displaying several photographs of houses. Vince squinted and walked closer. “Hold on, Amy. You might want to see this.”

  Amy joined Vince as they scrutinized the photos.

  “Do these look familiar to you?” Vince asked.

  Amy stepped closer, pulling one of the photos from the dartboard, holding it so gently; it almost slipped from her fingers. “These were the targets. These houses.”

  “Son of a bitch.” Vince scratched the back of his head, and walked the perimeter of the pool table. “Then Stefani must have been the San Fran Bomber.”

  “Vince, that’s quite the claim. I don’t know if we’re ready…”

  “What more do you want, Amy? These photos tell the whole story! This man Stefani did it. He sent the bombs.”

  “How do you know it wasn’t the other guy...Stefani’s killer? They could have been working together.” Amy tacked the photo back onto the dartboard. “Don’t get your hopes up, Vince.”

  As Vince and Amy continued to study the main room, Cameron ventured off and returned with with frantic news. “Amy, those people weren’t the only targets. Stefani might have been planning something bigger.”

  Vince whipped his head around. “Like what?”

  “I’ll show you. Amy, give me your flashlight.”

  Cameron led them down a dark, narrow hallway that extended from the main room. As they explored the passage, Vince started sneezing.

  “Damn cats are gonna kill me.”

  Just then, Amy stepped on a doll.

  An electronic recording squealed from the eerie plaything.

  “AAeeeeeeeh. Mmmaa ma.”

  Vince smacked his head against the wall in a melodramatic jolt. “Great, Amy, let’s awaken the whole house of horrors while we’re here. Frickin’ genius.”

  Amy kicked the doll out from underfoot, and a cat ran from the darkness between Cameron and Amy. Hissing, the cat clawed along the wall and flashed yellow eyes before darting out of sight. The team paused for a moment, listening to the clicking of the cat’s claws in a distant room.

  “Let me guess,” Vince said. “The cat was the real mastermind.”

  As the team approached the end of the hallway, the lights behind them flickered off in deadly succession, plunging the hallway into a satin blackness. Amy dropped her flashlight, but caught it just before it hit the ground.

  They walked forward, feeling along the walls until they reached a thin door with a huge kitten poster plastered to it. Cameron pushed the door open and instructed Amy to shine her flashlight on the back wall. A thick layer of trash crunched underfoot as Amy led the way. The room reeked of stale gasoline and cigarettes. The stench had seeped into the carpet and wallpaper, causing a permanent odor that grew stronger as they walked into the room.

  Countless red strings connected newspaper clippings, maps, pictures of weapons, and photos of mass destruction. It seemed as if the creator of the display had been studying terrorism at a morbid level. His fascination manifested itself in numerous articles on terrorist groups including recent bombings. Among the pictures were the same photos of the houses on the dartboard.

  Amy punched Cameron in the shoulder. “Nice work, Cam.”

  “Yeah, you weren’t kidding,” Vince said. “I thought this guy was just a car salesman. Wrong again.” He pan
ned his flashlight across the black and white atrocities. “I’m just glad he didn’t plant a bomb in my car.”

  *Click* *Flash!*

  A pile of boxes rested on a series of long tables to the left of the photo web. The other objects on the tables were shrouded in shadow until the flash from Cameron’s DSLR lit them up, causing a polarizing effect that left purple spots behind the eyes of the three team members. In the microseconds of light, Amy could see the dark remnants of Stefani’s work: organized stacks of wrapped explosives – C4 by the looks of it. The deadly devices were piled four columns high on a group of flattened cardboard, waiting to be boxed up. Mailing tape and box cutters were also among the stacks of explosives.

  “Thank God we got here when we did,” Amy said. “It looks like he was ready to send another wave of attacks.”

  Cameron snapped close-ups of the C4 packages. “Is Stefani some kind of spy?”

  “What? Like an assassin?” Vince clacked his tongue. “Oh, that could be good. The Assassin of the Great Bay Area. No, no, no. The Golden Gate Assassin. Makes your blood boil.” Vince pointed his light into Cameron’s eyes. “Wow, Cam. I’m impressed. Not.” He whipped the light to Amy’s face. “You’re turn, Detective. Let’s summarize this thing and go home.”

  “Vince…”

  “Oh, I know. We’ve got the homicide of a man who knows his way around some news websites. No big deal. And he was probably posing as the San Fran Bomber. Oh, wait. Not posing. This evidence confirms hewasresponsible for the bombings.”

  Amy batted his flashlight out of her eyes. “Vince, you know it’s not that simple. We’re not done here. If Stefani was the bomber, he probably wasn’t working alone. Besides, knowing the identity of the bomber just creates more questions. Why was he targeting those people in particular? Did someone order him to follow through? Stefani may be dead, but his crimes didn’t die with him.”

  “Why do you have to make it more complicated than it is? They had a shootout. The car dealer prick is dead. I’m going home.” Vince started towards the door and aimed his flashlight down the pitch-black hallway.

  “Vince, get back here.”

  “No, Amy. We’ve got the bomber. Chill out.”

  “Wait.” Cameron’s gaze locked onto something. “Amy, come over here. Ok, right where I’m standing. Look forward.”

  Amy followed Cameron’s curiosity. “Vince, if you walk out on this tonight, you’ll be one step closer to being suspended again.”

  Vince was almost to the end of the hallway now. “Oh, right. Another vacation from work. Boo hoo.”

  Amy focused her eyes on a small seam that protruded from the drywall with a subtle difference in paint color. The seam formed an irregular oval shape. “Vince. There might be another room here.”

  He was listening now.

  “It may even be a secret passageway.” Amy knew the mystery would be enough to reel Vince back.

  “Did you say secret passageway? Here? No way.”

  “Get over here.”

  Vince meandered back into the room, glancing across to the wall. “Hello, what’s this?” Vince felt along the crease. He knocked on the wall with his knuckles, following the seam until he heard a hollow spot. Then, he turned and sneered. “There’s another room behind this wall.”

  “That’s what I just told you.”

  Vince sighed. “It’s awfully tempting.”

  “Careful,” Cameron warned. “There could be more explosives back there.”

  “No shit, Sherlock.” Vince patted Cameron on the back. “You’re warning me about traps. I don’t think so. Unless you want to go back to taking senior portraits, you’d better shut your mouth.”

  Cameron glared. “Maybe we should come back with more help.”

  “Oh, sure…let’s do that,” Vince spat. “Then, we can take another day dragging this out.” Vince held the flashlight up to Cameron’s face. “Just tell me something. Why are you even in this line of work? How did you get this job anyway?”

  Cameron smirked, “How didyou, Vince?”

  “Well, I sure didn’t get it by wetting my pants about breaking down a bit of drywall. Come on, let’s do it. Of course it’s dangerous. Duh. That’s why they hired us.”

  Amy stepped between them. “Ok, enough. We have work to do.”

  “Then let’s do it.” Vince moved towards the drywall, but Amy grabbed his flashlight.

  “Vince, just stay here and cool off.”

  “Are you frickin’ kidding me? You’re gonna’ investigate with goldilocks and let me stay watch? I don’t think so. If anything, I’ll help tinsel town overcome his acute fear of nothing. I’ll be right back.”

  Vince returned a few minutes later with a sledgehammer from the police SUV outside. “You want the first swing, Cam?”

  With great strength, Cameron smashed in the drywall as Vince held the flashlight.

  “Any day now, buttercup.”

  When the opening was wide enough, Cameron dropped the sledgehammer and crawled through to the other side. Vince followed and beamed the flashlight from ceiling to floor revealing a long passageway with four large, metal doors on the right side.

  Vince yelled back to Amy, “I should have lugged along my GPS with all the crap this guy wants us to find.” Vince eyed Cameron. “Is there a certain door that tickles your fancy, cause we’ve got all night?”

  “Well, since we’re here…” Cameron opened the second door and stepped inside. The room was alive with hundreds of blinking LEDs emitted from dozens of computer servers, and the walls in-between the four rooms were constructed of dusty glass panels.

  Vince marveled at the sight. “Wow, fat, ugly, and a psycho nerd. This Stefani guy is really growing on me.”

  When Cameron glanced through the glass panels to the room on their right, panic crawled up his spine like a lethal spider.

  Vince’s eyes followed as he aimed their light source through the murky glass into room number three. Fiber optic cables pulsed radiant colors. The thin wires led towards the center of the room before disappearing into the floor.

  “If this guy was killed by aliens, I want a medal,” Vince quipped as he backed out of the second room.

  Cameron followed Vince back into the hallway. The LEDs from the second room danced on the narrow walls.

  Vince hesitated for only a moment before swinging the door to the third room wide open. The fiber optic lights seemed to rush into the floor like radioactive liquid flowing down a drain.

  Cameron noticed through the glass that the final room to their left was still pitch black. As they stared at their own reflections in the glass, Vince knocked on the panel. A faint echo traveled back to them from below.

  Upon opening the final room, Cameron found a ladder leading down.

  “Hold it, princess,” Vince sprayed. “I have the light, so that means you get to go down the ladder.”

  “Fine, but if I don’t come back up, you’ll have to live with that.”

  “I’m sure I’ll get over it.” Vince sneered.

  Cameron swung his foot down and placed his weight on the top rung. Suddenly, the entire ladder shifted down several feet, pulling Cameron’s chin near Vince’s boots. The doors to the other rooms simultaneously slammed shut.

  Cameron felt his heart pounding in his throat.

  “What the hell was that? Was that you, Cameron?”

  “I guess so.” Cameron tried to catch his breath from the sudden drop. He continued down the ladder for a few seconds and looked up. He was now about twenty feet below Vince’s boots.

  Darkness ruled below.

  “There’s no floor to this room!” Cameron called up.

  “Keep going and see where it leads. I’m not gonna leave you here. Yet.”

  Cameron lowered himself and soon felt concrete beneath him. Relieved, he stepped away from the ladder and peered up.

  “Heads up!” Vince dropped the flashlight into the darkness, and it bounced against the concrete, shattering the bulb.

 
Cameron and Vince now stood in pitch black.

  “Nice going!” Cameron yelled.

  Vince responded with a hint of fear in his voice. “Can’t you catch anything?”

  Amy carefully felt her way through the narrow hallway towards Vince. “You guys are real pros, you know that.” She cracked three glow sticks. “I’m going down there.”

  “Alright, I just hope Stefani doesn’t wake up to find us in his underground labyrinth,” joked Vince as Amy descended towards Cameron.

  Once at the bottom, Amy and Cameron walked together through a maze of more kitten posters on narrow walls. The maze seemed to have no real pattern, but it soon became illuminated by the same glowing fiber optics that lead from above. The lights lined glass casings within the winding walls and led them deeper underground.

  In the distance, they could hear the ferocious clacking of an old keyboard.

  After a few more twists and turns, the clacking sound increased. Then, after one more turn, Cameron and Amy reached a room sealed entirely by glass walls. Amy gestured for Cameron to look around the corner. He saw an overweight man with shaggy white hair typing lighting fast on an old computer with a dusty monitor. Frightened by the presence of the unsuspected man, Cameron hid again behind the wall.

  The keyboard clacking stopped abruptly, and they heard a chair move. Then, the room vibrated as if the walls were shifting around them. In another moment, there was complete silence.

  Amy now looked as the cords of light fed through holes in the glass walls and met at one focal point: a horizontal tablet computer the size of a coffee table.

  Cameron looked from the glass room back to Amy. “It’s like he vanished straight through the walls.”

  Two glass chairs accompanied a rickety office chair that slowly swiveled to a stop. Strangely, the two computers used technology from separate eras spanning at least twenty-five years. Amy stepped into the glass room and the touch screen table lit up, displaying several brands of guns, all paired with prices in a variety of currencies.

  “This station might have been used for video calls between these other men,” Cameron said.

  “Looks like we’ve got a couple black market weapon dealers.” As Amy took another step forward, the touch screen displayed a local map of San Francisco. Several neighborhoods on the map began blinking. Then, an ominous hum fell over the room.