by David Beers
“I don’t think you want to do any of that,” the other continued. “I think you want to kill him right now. You want to force him to make a move and then pull the gun on your hip and put a bullet right in his head.”
“No,” Christian said. He knew how foolish that would be, firing a weapon in a place like this. His career would come to a standstill, and an investigation on him would follow. And the moral implications?
“What moral implications?” the other said.
“Shut up.” Christian wasn’t going to entertain the thought.
He turned away from the table and walked back to the bouncer.
“Okay, go ahead and get everyone over here. You see that table in the back? The two people sitting there. I need you to get the man. If you and your friends do it, there won’t be a scuffle. You got a back room here?”
The bouncer nodded as he looked to the VIP’s far side.
“Where is it?”
The bouncer turned for a second and pointed to the club’s corner.
“I’ll be waiting there for you. Bring him to the room.”
Christian turned and walked in the direction the bouncer had pointed. He didn’t see his replica anywhere; apparently he was done talking for now.
LUKE SMIRKED as he watched Christian talk to the bouncer again.
It meant Luke had more work to do. Christian still wouldn’t do anything dangerous in this place, choosing instead to seize the man in the least lethal way possible. Luke knew Christian would call within a few minutes, asking him to show up here.
Luke finished his scotch and left forty dollars on the bar.
He walked toward the front doors, expecting Christian’s call.
CHAPTER 9
C hristian stood outside of the manager’s office. Two bouncers stood behind him, and two more were inside the office with the man. As expected, he hadn’t put up any struggle, but followed naturally enough. Christian got a bouncer to grab the woman, too; she was being held in the kitchen—the only other place away from the public’s eye.
“If you wanted to go out on the town, you could have just told me,” Luke said as they entered the hallway.
“He’s in there.”
“Our man?”
Christian nodded.
“Identification?” one of the bouncer’s standing next to Christian said.
Luke took out his badge and handed it over without looking.
“Why do you think it’s him?”
Christian glanced to the closed office door. “I just know.”
“I’m sure that will hold up once he asks for a lawyer.”
“It’s him.”
“It’s not going to matter,” Luke said. “We’ll have him for an hour tops. He’s probably accusing the club of false imprisonment right now.”
“Well, we’ll have his name and where he lives. We’ll have everything about him before the night’s over.”
“Okay,” Luke said. “Ready?”
Christian nodded and looked at the bouncer. “Thanks for your help. Have the other guys leave the room once we go in, okay?”
“Do you want us to do anything?”
“No. We’ll be done fairly quickly; within thirty minutes. I’ll let you know when we finish.”
“The manager is on his way,” the bouncer said. “He’s going to want to speak with you.”
“That’s fine. As soon as I’m done in there. Tell him not to come in or bother us until we’re out, okay?”
The bouncer nodded, though Christian could tell he didn’t like the idea of telling his boss any such thing.
“Let’s go,” Christian said and opened the door. Luke followed, and the two bouncers came behind him.
“Guys, they’re asking for the room. Rob’s gonna be here in a minute,” the bouncer said.
Christian stared at the man standing against the wall. Christian took him all in at once, immediately seeing his relaxed composure in the way he leaned casually on the wall. His hands were in his pockets and he looked at his feet as if he were simply waiting for a train. As if everything happening around him might not be happening at all.
The bouncers walked out and closed the door, leaving Christian and Luke alone with the man.
“What’s this all about?” he said, looking up from his shoes.
“Your ID says your name is Ted Hinson. That right?” Christian asked, glancing down at the identification in his hand. One of the bouncers had given it to him a few minutes previous.
“That’s right. Am I being detained?”
“No. Not by us.”
“And the bouncers? Are they detaining me?”
“No bouncers are here,” Luke said.
“Well, if I’m not being detained, I’d like to leave.”
“Who was the woman you were with?” Luke asked.
“Not sure. You should ask her.” Hinson straightened up from the wall and faced Christian. “Since I’m not under arrest or being detained, I’m asking to leave. Are you stopping me?”
“No. You’re free to leave whenever you’d like,” Christian said. He saw Luke move behind him, so that he stood in front of the door. Christian heard the lock turn.
“There aren’t any cameras in here, Mr. Hinson. It’s best that you answer our questions,” Luke said.
They had just entered the realm of illegality, and Christian felt a brief flare of fear rise in his head. The calm in Luke’s voice crushed it, though.
Hinson smiled. “And how do you know I’m not recording this with my cell phone?”
“The bouncers didn’t let you take it out of your pocket,” Christian said. “I made sure of that before they ever brought you in. Your ID says you live in Atlanta. Why are you here?”
Hinson looked back down at his feet, seeming to realize that he would have to play ball for at least a few minutes. Christian knew they didn’t have much time; the owner would be here soon and demanding they let him in.
“Vacation,” Hinson said.
“You were here just a week or so ago, weren’t you?” Christian asked. He hadn’t looked at the man’s travel history, but Hinson didn’t know that.
Hinson said nothing. Luke moved around to the owner’s desk and leaned against it, creating a triangle between the three of them. “What are you doing with the women? Are you killing them? Or are you keeping them?”
“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. You sound insane.”
Christian didn’t want the manager having to knock on the door—if Hinson lawyered up later, and the manager was asked, the door being locked was a sign of possible false imprisonment.
“I know your name now, Ted Hinson,” Luke said. “Theodore Hinson. That’s a very regal name. You come from good stock, don’t you? Probably attended a lot of affairs when you were younger, in which your parents talked about the problems all the blacks were causing in our great nation. I’m sure they discussed high tax rates on the rich and how the lower classes needed to pick themselves up by the bootstraps … Did they have any idea what you were turning into?”
Hinson’s face was blank.
“I know your name.” Luke stood up from the desk, obviously thinking the same thing as Christian. He went back to the door and unlocked it, then pulled it open. “You’re free to leave. We’ll see you again.”
The man looked at Luke with the same blank face, not carefree, not angry—just simple emptiness. He turned that blank stare to Christian for a second, and then the smile returned. “My lawyer will enjoy taking your jobs.”
He walked out of the room, leaving the two of them standing alone. A few seconds passed as they watched him walk down the hallway, flanked by bouncers on both sides.
“The owner is in the parking lot,” one said to Christian.
“IF HE DOES LAWYER UP, Waverly is going to hear about the whole thing,” Tommy said over Christian’s speakerphone. “We need to tell him first thing Monday morning.”
Christian and Luke sat in Christian’s hotel room. It was earl
y on Saturday, and Christian wore the hotel provided robe. He was barefoot, while Luke wore his usual shirt and tie.
“That’s fine,” Christian said. He lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. Luke sat in a chair with one leg crossed over the other. Christian hadn’t slept yet, but didn’t feel tired. He’d spent all night learning everything he could about Ted Hinson. “He’s a professor at the University of Georgia’s business school. Terry College of Business. He’s tenured and is in accounting. From what I can tell, fifty percent of his time is spent teaching, the other fifty percent is spent on research.”
“What the hell do accounting professors research?” Tommy said.
“Correlations between businesses and outcomes. The markets, et cetera,” Luke said.
“Alright, I’m trying to think about this like Waverly is going to, because the man will definitely claim illegal detainment—”
“No proof,” Christian said.
“Fine. But Waverly will say something along the lines of this: Christian, you went off a hunch and detained a tenured professor while he was on a date, with no physical evidence. With no evidence at all, actually. What are you going to say to him?”
“We need to find some evidence.”
“Yeah, well you better make it quick. Did you two get a ticket home already?”
“No, we’re going to wait and see what Waverly says Monday. I want to be able to look at him when I have to explain this.”
“Jesus Christ, Christian,” Tommy said. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing here? Because as your partner, it’s not looking like it.”
Christian kept staring at the ceiling, knowing Tommy was scared for him.
Do I know what I’m doing?
The other didn’t speak to him. It didn’t need to. Christian held no doubt in his mind.
“I do. You’ll see.”
CHAPTER 10
T he meeting with Waverly had gone as expected: horribly. Ted Hinson had indeed retained counsel, and by nine in the morning Luke, Christian, and Tommy had all been sitting in Waverly’s office.
He told them, in no uncertain terms, that they were to drop the case completely. That they had fucked up, and he knew they hadn’t let the man out of the room when he asked.
“Whatever is going on in your head, Christian, don’t tell anyone about it unless there’s evidence to back it up. You understand?” Waverly had said.
Christian told him he understood.
From now on, he would keep his thoughts to himself. That didn’t mean the case was over, though—Christian hadn’t said he understood that.
Christian wondered what the shrink wrote after their first meeting. He had an idea, imagined it read something like:
PATIENT IS DEPRESSED. He may be having delusions, and may have had them for much of his life. It seems his family supported these hallucinations. The movie ‘A Beautiful Mind’ popularized this notion, the scientist’s mind too powerful to be content with a normal life. Further sessions needed to determine scope and depth. As of now, recommendation is to leave Christian Windsor in the field, pending more sessions.
CHRISTIAN KNEW he wasn’t delusional. Or at least, he hadn’t been when his mind only projected his mother and Melissa. Now that he saw the other, though … he wasn’t as sure. And he hadn’t even brought that up to Hanson.
Christian sat in his Atlanta office, his computer screen on in front of him. It was time for his next ‘therapy’ session; he could see Dr. Hanson on the screen.
“Did you hear?” Christian said.
“No? What happened?”
“Waverly closed down the D.C. case. He basically said my hunches were unfounded, and he didn’t want to hear anything else unless I had hard evidence.”
“I imagine you know the next question I’m going to ask, given your background.”
“How does it make me feel,” Christian said, though not as a question.
Hanson nodded.
Christian said nothing, but looked above his computer to avoid the doctor’s stare.
“Well?” Hanson asked.
“He’s right,” Christian lied, looking back to the screen. “If there isn’t evidence to back up what I think, then I need to find evidence before I bring something to him.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“Why would I lie?”
Hanson smiled. “Christian, I know you’re smarter than me. I don’t sit in this chair with any delusions about my limitations or your lack of them. The easiest thing you can do in these sessions is to lie to me, to tell me what you think the Director wants to hear. Then you can stop seeing me and Director Waverly will go on with the rest of his job. I may not be as smart as you, but I’m not easily bullshitted, either.”
“Look, Waverly wants me to follow the foundation of law enforcement. Look for evidence and make arrests when I find it. I agree with that. If I didn’t, I would be unfit to be an agent.”
“Some part of you, though,” Hanson said, “has to think he’s wrong. It’s not arrogance to understand how smart you are. It’s not arrogance to realize that the rest of the world isn’t that smart, and may make poor decisions because of it. Yes, the Director is right in how law enforcement operates, but it doesn’t mean he’s right in this case. It doesn’t mean you don’t realize that, either.”
“Do you think he’s right?” Christian asked.
“I don’t know what you were doing as far as your investigation goes. I have a full caseload myself, and I can’t keep up with what investigations are happening. My job is to help agents maintain steady mental states.”
“You’ve said how smart I am, though. Do you think he’s right that I need evidence, even if my mind tells me I don’t?”
“Of course he is right. Evidence is primary. Now, you answer the same question.”
Christian looked above his computer. Yes, Waverly was wrong. It was the worst decision Christian had seen him make since joining the FBI. Ted Hinson had taken six women and was about to take his seventh before Christian stepped in. The last one, Mary Lawson, didn’t know how lucky she was. And if they couldn’t watch Hinson, he’d do it again. More lives would be lost.
Christian knew he couldn’t say any of that though. He looked back at the screen and said, “He’s right. You are, too. Evidence is primary.”
A pause ensued and then Christian asked the question he’d been thinking about earlier. “Do you think I’m having delusions?”
“Based on the people you see, but aren’t actually there?”
Christian nodded.
“It’s possible. Typically the affected person is delusional because he doesn’t realize those things are figments of his imagination. You’ve told me you know they aren’t real, which would mean you’re not delusional, but it’s still a mental aberration.”
“I suppose it is.”
“Delusions are when your reality doesn’t match up with actual reality.”
“Do you think that’s happening with me?”
“I don’t know,” Hanson said. “Tell me about this investigation that was shut down, and what you were thinking.”
IT HAD BEEN a while since Christian showed up this late at Luke’s house.
He knocked on the door as thunder shook the world around him. Harsh lightning created streaks across the sky in almost constant flashes, and the thunder kept pace. Rain hadn’t fallen yet, but it was coming.
Luke opened the door and said nothing as he walked to the living room. Christian stepped in and closed the door, following him across the foyer.
“Coffee?” Luke asked.
“No.”
“I think I’ll pass tonight, too.”
The lights were off overhead and the lightning outside out-shined the moon, becoming the only thing to illuminate the room. Luke sat down on his couch. Christian walked to the window and stared outside.
“What brought you here, Christian?”
A day had passed since Christian met with Hanson. They had a follow-up appointmen
t for next week. They would continue until Waverly was satisfied.
“I’m wondering if I’m losing my mind.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Look at what’s happening to my life,” Christian said. “I have no one anymore and I may have just ended my career with what happened in D.C..”
“No need for dramatics. The fact that you can sit in a room with the FBI Director, whenever you want, says a lot.”
“Have you ever been chastised at work?”
“Once.”
“What happened?” Christian asked. The first drops of rain started falling from the sky onto the lawn.
“I came to the FBI.”
“So you left?”
“Not because of the chastisement, but yes, I did.”
“Why did you leave?”
“We haven’t really discussed purpose much, have we?”
Christian shook his head.
“I didn’t feel my purpose was aligning correctly with either my psychiatric practice or academia. The Sphere was prestigious, but that isn’t my purpose.”
“Does the FBI line up with it?”
“It’s beginning to,” Luke said. “Do you have a purpose?”
“I used to. Or at least, I thought I did.”
“What was it?”
“What’s yours?” Christian replied.
“I asked first.”
Christian was quiet for a second. He remembered what he had told Waverly when he was first recruited to this team. The reasoning had been simple.
“I thought I wanted to help people. I wanted to be like my mother; she makes everyone’s life better. I thought I could do that here, in my own way.”
“Are you not?”
“I’ve hurt everyone I’ve gotten close to since I joined,” Christian said.
“Have you hurt me?”
“I’m not sure you’re capable of being hurt, Luke.”
Lightning flashed harshly outside, illuminating the room.
“You don’t think I’ve ever been hurt?”
And like the flash of lightning, something came unbidden to Christian. It was as if three years of knowing Luke finally connected in his mind, all the separate pieces lining up to form a picture.