Arnesto opened the magazine and flipped the pages until he reached the half-page article on the shooting. It was news to him. He recalled nothing of the event.
“I know, you can’t stop them all. At least, I don’t think you can. I’m not actually sure. But what I am sure of, is that, sooner or later, there’s going to be an event where people die that you could have prevented. How long — how long is it going to be until that happens?”
Arnesto never made eye contact with Whiteside unless ordered to do so. He believed in giving away as little information as possible. Unnecessary eye contact might not only give something away visually, it could also reveal information by virtue of a simple change in behavior. However, just this once, he couldn’t resist.
He closed the magazine and looked straight into the eyes of his nemesis.
Whiteside stared back.
It was a silent battle, each man trying to find the other’s weakness, and finding none. They tried to imagine what their opponent was thinking, what their motivation was, what their next move would be, and while they both knew they had similar goals, neither had any idea who was winning.
Arnesto was the one who finally blinked and resumed his usual downcast blank stare. To an outsider, it might have appeared as if this had given Whiteside the victory, but this was not the case. Arnesto had simply realized there was nothing more to be gained and ended the epic staredown. Likewise, Whiteside hadn’t been staring in an effort to intimidate or establish dominance. He simply wanted to observe his unyielding captive.
“Get him out of here,” Whiteside said.
Their short, mostly silent meeting had, unlike their other meetings, been ever so slightly productive, for each of them felt like they had barely riled up the other. It was better than nothing.
Sinus Trouble
Location: Unknown
Date: Unknown
Time: Unknown
“Sir, there’s something you need to see,” Stanfield said.
“Yeah, I know, I’m watching it now,” Whiteside said. He restarted the video clip of Father Martin’s latest announcement.
“Hello again, I’m Father Martin. I have received another message from my source, the person who speaks through me. My source is also the one to whom I am now speaking. In your message, you said there was another event approaching, and that if I didn’t hear from you again by today, that I should make this announcement. Wherever you are, I hope you’re safe and will be able to contact me again soon. Thank you and God bless.”
“Sir, we know when Father Martin was contacted. Arnesto was here. Are we sure we have the right guy?”
“Positive. He set this up ahead of time. He saw us coming like he sees everything coming.”
“What do we do now? People are anxious, sir. The stock market’s crashing—”
“You don’t think I know that?” Whiteside asked. “Take him to the board room.”
“Sir, we both know he’s as likely to give us false information—”
“Any information is more than we’ve got now. If he lies to us, great, at least we’ll have something to rule out.” He looked up at Stanfield, whose stoic expression betrayed a hint of disapproval. “Out with it.”
“Permission to speak freely?” she asked.
“Yes, yes, say it already.”
“He’s not a terrorist, sir. He’s not a spy. Whatever crimes he’s committed, he only did so to try to save people. Is this how we treat one of our own?”
“Anything else, Agent Stanfield?”
She stared at him briefly before replying. “No, sir.”
“Agent Crowl requested a transfer to another department; are you next?”
“No, sir.”
“Good, then take him to the board room. And keep life support standing by. We can’t afford to lose him.”
Less than five minutes later, Stanfield helped secure Arnesto to a gurney, then lowered one end so his head was below his feet. He seemed a little bit tense to her, even though he wore the same lifeless expression to which the staff had all grown accustomed.
She leaned over him. “You know I don’t want to do this,” she said. “Give me something — anything — and this can stop.”
She walked over to the shower overlooking the gurney and placed her hand on the nozzle. She looked at Arnesto, then nodded to another agent who placed a large rag over Arnesto’s face. Then she turned the nozzle to full blast.
Time and again they waterboarded him. He coughed and gagged and sputtered as much as anyone would, but still never talked.
Sometimes Whiteside would be there himself to turn on the water or cover Arnesto’s face or simply observe. Sometimes he was absent. It was his way of keeping Arnesto guessing.
One time, he walked in on the middle of a session. Upon entering the room, he immediately stopped and motioned Stanfield to come and talk to him in the hallway.
“Where’s the clock that was on the wall?” he asked.
“I took it down. I noticed he was using it to time himself,” she said.
“What, like some kind of high score?!” Whiteside put his hand on his head and took a few steps away before walking back. He looked inside at Arnesto. “That guy in there couldn’t beat up my six-year-old niece, yet waterboarding can’t get him to talk?”
“Maybe he feels he has nothing to confess. Sir, we’ve tried everything.”
“Just about. Stanfield, where are we on the questioning?”
“We’ve covered all the major events, but—”
"'All the major events.’ Great, he’s given us next to nothing, while we’ve told him everything we know about him. He’s playing us — again! You know what, cancel the waterboarding. Take him back to his cell. I have some phone calls to make.”
For the next few days, Arnesto languished in his cell. Other than the on-site doctor monitoring the sinus infection he had acquired from the waterboarding, he had no contact with anyone. His physical energy was slipping, and his mental state wasn’t far behind.
Maybe they were right and he was being selfish. They certainly would have saved more lives if he had worked with them. Maybe. Would they have warned the other countries about the earthquakes, and if they had, what would they have expected in return? How much could he trust them? Right, like the government’s ever been trustworthy… What was Whiteside doing now, collecting wood to burn him at the stake?
He didn’t have to wait much longer to find out.
Arnesto was half-asleep when the sound of his cell door opening gave him a start. Great, if they were paying attention, and they always were, then they noticed his reaction and probably felt they were, at last, starting to get to him.
They led him to the interrogation room, where Whiteside was already seated. Arnesto sat down and tried to brace himself for whatever the agent was going to throw at him next. It was probably some brand new torture designed solely for him and approved by some bought out congressperson.
Alright, Whiteside, hit me with it already. Whatever it is you think you’ve got, I’m ready.
Arnesto was not ready.
Without any emotion, good or bad, with the kind of stoicism only Whiteside could display, he said the two words Arnesto never thought he’d hear.
“You’ve won.”
Concessions
Location: Unknown
Date: Unknown
Time: Unknown
“You don’t leave the country. Ever,” Whiteside said. “Do you understand me?”
Arnesto was half ignoring him. It made it easier to avoid having any reaction to whatever the agent was saying. Even so, this conversation seemed different. Something had changed.
“Let’s just say certain people have reconsidered your threat level. It seems you are actually more dangerous down here than you are out there. I think they were also impressed with how well you handled yourself under pressure, though they’d never admit it. I would hate to see what it would take to get you to confess anything.
“Here’s the deal. You
work for us now. You tell us what you know, and you let us handle it. I can’t promise you any say in operations, but as you’re the only one with any intel, I imagine you’ll have quite a lot of pull.
“You get your life back, sort of. We’ll be keeping an eye on you 24/7. That’s the way it has to be, both for your protection and ours. So, you can leave this place, work with us, and go back to saving lives, or you can stay here. I know what I would pick, but frankly, I’m starting to think you’re enjoying your time in this—”
Arnesto mumbled something, but his raspy voice was inaudible as he tried to speak for the first time since their initial meeting.
Whiteside opened his mouth, but it took him a second to register. “Could you repeat that please?” he asked.
Arnesto cleared his throat. “Do I report to you?”
Whiteside smiled. “I am your point of contact, yes. But technically, you’re my boss. That means you’re welcome to replace me if you choose. Under the circumstances, I would understand.”
“How do I know you won’t suddenly change your mind and put a bullet in my head?” Arnesto asked.
“I won’t lie to you. If you fuck with us, if you do anything to hurt this country, if you force our hand, we won’t hesitate to kill you. Or if we feel you’ve been compromised or you’re not otherwise holding up your end of the bargain, we’ll bring you back here. There’s a lot riding on this, as you know. But as of right now, you are a free man, so to speak.”
Agent Stanfield entered the room and deposited a bag containing Arnesto’s personal effects on the table.
“Thanks, Lindsay,” Arnesto said to the agent, who seemed taken aback. She stared wide-eyed at Arnesto, who turned and gave her an approving nod.
“Thank you, Agent Stanfield,” Whiteside said, not altogether thrilled by her lingering. She nodded and left the room.
“One more thing,” Whiteside said. “You’ve done a decent job of maintaining a low profile all this time. But it needs to be better going forward. We have some fake IDs you can use, but if you want, we can make one of them official — give you a whole new identity. You can even pick your own name. Anything you want, assuming the analytics department signs off on it. For someone who prefers leaving as little as possible to chance, it might make things easier for you. I would urge you to consider it, however, it’s entirely up to you. Sir.”
Arnesto stood up and took his bag off the table. He walked to the door and opened it with his free hand, but didn’t walk out. He thought for a moment, then turned back to Whiteside.
“Call me Arnesto.”
Epilogue
School Gymnasium
Massachusetts
Saturday, August 17, 2013
2:15 p.m.
Pete watched from the stands as his son Daniel, now ten, competed in the karate tournament. A well-built man sat down on his immediate left, distracting him from a much thinner man sitting down on his right.
“Boo,” said the second man, giving Pete a start.
“Goddamnit, Arnesto,” Pete said as he gave his friend an awkward side hug. “You lost a few pounds in there. How are you? Am I allowed to ask?”
Arnesto leaned forward and gave the man on Pete’s left a quick head tilt to tell him they needed space. They watched as the man walked to the next section and sat down again. “We’re clear.”
Pete looked at his friend. Arnesto appeared well-groomed and had a fresh haircut, but still looked like he’d aged ten years.
“I’m okay,” Arnesto said. “At least, I was before I walked in here. Why does it smell like feet?” He looked around at all the barefoot competitors. “Oh, right. Can’t believe I spent ten bucks on this.”
“Is it true about the… waterboarding?”
Arnesto nodded. “It was horrifying. I still have to brace myself every time I take a shower.”
“How did you get through it, I mean, without talking?”
“It wasn’t easy. I almost cracked so many times. But I knew they wouldn’t let me die. My knowledge is too enticing for them. I knew if I could just hold on… How about you?”
“It wasn’t fun, but it wasn’t torture, either. Arnesto, I told them everything.” Pete hung his head in shame.
“You told them everything? Or everything?”
“I told them, wait, which is the good one? Whatever, I cooperated.”
“I understand.” Arnesto reflected on this. “You cooperated? Or you cooperated?”
“Arnesto, I revealed so much more than I thought possible. However, I don’t have your memory, so I may have missed a few... details. Still, I blabbed. And I may have badmouthed you as well. I am so sorry.”
“Please. I don’t want your apology for sticking to the plan. You swore to me if I was ever caught and you were questioned, you wouldn’t hold back. Other than how I do it, of course. This was always my mess, not yours.”
Pete accepted this. “So what now?”
“I’ve come to say goodbye. I’ve disrupted your life enough.” Arnesto scooted to the side to put a little more distance between them. Pete noticed Daniel running up to him and knew Arnesto didn’t want Daniel to recognize him.
“Dad, did you see? I made it to the next round!”
“Great job, Daniel, go get ‘em!” As Daniel ran off, Arnesto returned to his former position. Both men knew they had missed Daniel’s match.
“Case in point,” Arnesto said.
“I wish I could help, but I guess you’ve got a team for that now. If I may ask, what did Whiteside tell you exactly?” Arnesto filled him in. “It’s not ideal, but now you can save lives without the danger or having to constantly look over your shoulder. One question, though. Why put you in charge?” He looked at Arnesto’s chaperone pretending not to watch them from the next section. “I mean, no offense, but as such a valuable asset, wouldn’t it have made more sense to keep Whiteside in charge and keep you as a top priority consultant?”
“Damn, it took me almost a week to catch that. And you’re right, we must be using the same playbook. Just like you told them everything to placate them, they pretended to put me in charge to placate me. I’m pretty sure they only let me out to see what I can do for them. Once they realize how little that is…”
“They’ll take you back. Jeez, that’s awful. What are you going to do?”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ve got a plan,” Arnesto said, a knowing grin plastered on his face.
Pete chuckled and shook his head. “Nobody makes plans better than you. I almost feel sorry for them.”
Arnesto shook Pete’s hand. “Before I forget, you’re not flying to Malaysia next year, are you? Well, don’t.” He stood. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to run.”
Acknowledgements
Special thanks to:
Stina Campos, for her neverending support and feedback.
Ryan “Pete Morgan” Kelly, for keeping me sane in high school (the rootbeer popsicles helped!)
And of course…
You! Thanks very much for reading!
Edited by Dustin Schwindt, bookbutchers.com
Cover art by Adam deGrandis
About the Author
Two questions used to keep me up at night. First: what would I do if I suddenly found myself back in September 9, 2001 — two days before the horrible events of 9/11? Second: what would I do if I suddenly found myself back in homeroom in high school?
At some point several years ago, a light bulb went off and I realized I could merge the two and attempt to answer them both. And so, without really knowing what I was doing, I decided to write this book, and Arnesto Modesto was born.
Thank you for reading Arnesto Modesto: The World’s Most Ineffectual Time Traveler! I hope you had as much fun reading it as I had writing it. Actually, considering all the hours I spent cursing to myself as I paced back and forth, I hope you had a lot more fun reading it than I had writing it. I complain but I would do it all over again. And you know what? Those two questions no longer keep me up at nigh
t.
This book is my first novel.
Other Works by the Author
This book is my first novel, so currently there are no other works by the author. That said, I have begun work on a number of short stories. Here are but a few (titles subject to change):
The Pacifier (aka Baby Hunter): a sudden mutation has spread around the globe causing newborn babies to be born with superhuman strength — and a taste for blood. He is Earth’s only hope. He is: The Pacifier.
Tyrone Jackson and the Half-Court Dunk: the new star recruit learns that ball is a lot different when magic is involved. He has the skill to make balla history — if he can get past his ego and stop breaking the rules. A parody.
Quincunx: In the championship Scrabble game, one player makes a move no one saw coming.
Chasing CowQuest: His life was perfectly content until he receives a message from his rival that his world record score from decades ago has at last been beaten. How far will he go, how much will he risk to reclaim the title? A mockumentary.
The Part Where the Author Begs You for a Review
Reviews are everything to an independent author. If you have the time and inclination, please consider writing one. I would greatly appreciate it. Here are some reasons why you may want to:
You enjoyed the book and want to contribute to its success. Huzzah!
You hated the book and want to vent your frustrations.
You want to encourage others to read this amazing novel.
Arnesto Modesto Page 29