“I’m okay,” he said, “I just want to get this over with.”
“Sure,” said Jimmy, “I know the script here. Don’t worry you’re in safe hands.”
He turned to look at the other guests who both smiled benevolently; he couldn’t recall either of their names. One was a washed up Hollywood actress who had been pretty big some years ago; the other was a young guy who looked like a model. Daniel wasn’t sure, but he thought he was off a scripted reality show. They’d exchanged brief pleasantries beforehand but Toby had kept everyone well away.
Jimmy seated himself back behind his desk and looked across at someone behind the cameras. There was a nod from a young female producer holding a clipboard. There was no studio audience, laughter and applause would be added afterwards, but there was an army of cameramen and engineers rushing about. The music struck up again and a voice announced, “On in five, four, three…”
“Welcome back, folks,” said Jimmy. “Now my next guest isn’t well known to any of us but he’s one of the most famous people on the planet. Tonight we have an amazing exclusive for you.”
Cameras swung and Daniel was sure he felt the lights get a little brighter. “Daniel Loman, who I’m all sure you’ve heard of, is with us tonight.” Applause came from speakers, somewhere. The actress and the TV star clapped too.
“Daniel,” said Jimmy, “tell the world who you are.”
He breathed in and looked down a camera lens for a second and saw the black hole widen. “My name is Daniel Loman. I’m thirty-six years old and I come from a town called Mountplace. About four weeks ago the entity, you all refer to as the Robot, landed on our planet and started to follow me.”
Jimmy stared, open mouthed, as if hearing all this for the first time. “My God. Daniel, tell us, what do you know?”
“Very little,” he said. The actress tilted her head; thin hair that had seen too much peroxide was flicked behind an ear with concern.
“It seems impossible to stop. It has literally walked through buildings and tanks. Its sole purpose seems to be something to do with me. But I need to be clear it has not attacked anyone.”
“Yes, that’s true isn’t it? It hasn’t attacked.”
“Absolutely. It just wants to get to me, but for whatever reason we don’t know.”
“Do you have any ideas?”
“No. I’m working with our government, the army and navy. We keep a tight schedule and I’m moved about a lot so as to keep the entity at the bottom of the ocean.”
“Tell me, Daniel, why you?”
He sat back in his seat and scratched his head. “Jimmy, that’s a question I ask myself every day. If its intentions are peaceful, maybe it wants to deliver a message for example. But then why not the President? Or the Head of the United Nations? The intelligence required to make whatever journey it did is far beyond our own, so we can only assume there is something about me that we are not aware of.”
The words he had prepared with Toby flowed freely. The answers were what people wanted to hear; it was almost as if he could feel the whole country relaxing in their seats a little.
“Jimmy, could I ask something?” It was the Hollywood actress; she wasn’t supposed to ask anything. Jimmy looked at Daniel as if to ask permission but she had already started to speak.
“Perhaps, the robot is from the future,” she said, “Perhaps it knows something about you that you don’t even know yourself.”
“Like what?” said Daniel.
“Maybe it’s here to warn us about something you might do? Or even your children might do in the future. Like in that movie, what’s it called?” The TV star shared a thoughtful look.
“I don’t have any children,” said Daniel, “and I don’t like the idea of being punished for something I haven’t done yet.”
“But you might have children,” said the TV star. “You’re one of the most famous people on the planet. I can’t imagine you staying single for long. Are you in a relationship?”
This was getting uncomfortable.
“Yes, Troy,” said Jimmy, “that’s a good question. Daniel, do you find time to have any relationships outside of your travelling?”
This also wasn’t part of the script. “I don’t.”
“Well ladies,” said the actress, putting her hand on his lap, “Right here I’d say we have the world’s most eligible bachelor. They’ll be making movies about you very soon.”
“I’m not sure I want my life turned into a movie.”
“Daniel,” said Jimmy, “have you thought about all this publicity? Do you have an agent?”
Again, another question that was not on the list. His eyes searched rapidly through the crowd in the studio to see if he could spot Toby.
“No.”
“You should get a publicist,” said Troy, the actress nodded in agreement.
“Have you been paid for your stories?” said Jimmy.
“What?”
“Have you been paid?” said Jimmy, “It’s an honest question.”
He grimaced. Jimmy Jones idly tapped his cue cards on his oversized desk. The actress tilted her head again and opened her mouth slightly; he could only assume she thought the look was endearing. Troy just looked vacant. After several moments he finally spoke.
“Look, we’re sitting here like we’re all buddies. We're not. He's plugging a book and she's trying to save her career after rehab.” Daniel glared across to the sofa next to him; Troy had bright teeth and an absurd tan, his face wore a confused smile, the fading Hollywood star was looking down her nose.
“I'm not selling anything. Don't you people ever want to do something real?”
For a second there was silence. Troy and the actress shifted in their seats, a few people made hand signals behind cameras. Then the chat show host nodded his head, placed the cue cards down; all that is except the last one.
“What is your reaction to recent revelations about Detective Jones?”
He stared at Jimmy; the bronzed skin and white smile shining back. He looked past his head toward the side of the stage where he finally caught sight of Toby who stood shaking his head.
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
The smile was gone now, but the teeth were still bared.
“He was assigned to your case, correct? And he’s remained as Police Liaison Officer?”
“Yes.”
“There was a recent leak by a whistle blower in the LAPD. The di Conti affair?”
He caught sight of Toby arguing with the producer over Jimmy’s shoulder.
“I’m not aware of any story,” said Daniel.
“It’s been alleged that Mr Jones mishandled the Griffith Park murders; that he fouled up evidence that could have led to a conviction. That’s why he was transferred out East. A lot of conspiracy theorists are saying it was a major player in Hollywood and that there was a cover-up. Did you even know he used to be LAPD? What do you have to say?”
For a second he stared past the chat show host at the fake skyline. Jones was the only rock he had in the world at the moment. He wasn’t about to let someone topple him.
“I don’t comment on internet rumours.”
“Really, that’s a shame because there are some great ones about you.”
Daniel tried to not look interested. “I don’t – “
“One is that your real name isn’t Daniel and that you are in fact an extra-terrestrial; part of a scouting mission to check out our planet’s resources. Another, is that your part of a secret government spy programme. My favourite is that you’re actually one person split into two. Any thoughts?”
Daniel felt the urge to punch the waxing jawline and grab the slicked back hair. Jimmy Jones had never felt pain. Never had to endure or suffer; this guy was so smooth. His face was on buses and billboards across the country. Somehow, someone, somewhere had decided he was the voice of America and nobody argued.
Why did nobody stand up to him? Tell him he was wrong? His wasn’t the voice of t
he people; he was merely passing on the message of his masters. And what did they want? They wanted us to keep watching. Keep spending. Consuming.
He stood up and took off his microphone pack. “This is over. All of this.”
As he walked off the stage the last thing he heard was the band striking up and the host saying they’d be “…right back after these messages.”
Backstage he was flanked by security and then ushered to a car outside. As he got in Jones dismissed the guards. They shrugged and got in the car behind.
“We need to talk,” said the detective, as the car heaved off.
Daniel shook his head. “Your past is of no interest to me.”
“That’s kind of you to say,” said Jones, “but I’ve been speaking to Toby. He’s worried about the PR my circumstances might bring. Says your position is a tricky one, right now. Half the people think you’re fantastic and the other half think you’re here to destroy the world.”
“People are fickle.”
They turned onto the freeway and started to leave the tall buildings and studios of Hollywood behind them.
“It was around here, wasn’t it?” said Daniel. “He mentioned Griffith Park and I only just remembered. All those girls that got killed.”
Jones nodded and looked out of the window himself. Maybe he saw the distant green tree tops, or maybe he saw something else. “I had just made Detective and it fell on my lap due to resources. I was young and inexperienced so I handled it badly.”
“The case?”
“No,” said Jones, his eyes falling. “Finding him.”
He noted how Jones was sat back, unassuming, his eyes gazing out across the roads and houses. He looked older than the last time he’d seen him. But still, those gentle deep brown eyes, that soft and friendly smile; always hovering there, no matter what his mood.
“You found him?” he said.
“Damn right I found him.” Jones scoffed, “In fact, he found me.”
“He found you?”
Jones scratched his chin; a few days without shaving had made him dishevelled. “Around that time a rising actor had requested access to LAPD interrogations and police time. ‘Method acting,’ they called it. The guy wanted to look at how we worked, immerse himself in our world for an upcoming role. You ever hear about how De Niro did it with Taxi Driver?”
Daniel nodded, “Sure. He worked as a cab driver for a time before the film. Can’t say I believe in it much; acting is just dressing up and pretending to be someone else…and we all do that.”
Jones scoffed and nodded his approval. “So, this actor has some pull in the Mayor’s department and next thing, being the youngest detective, he ends up with me as nobody else wants him around.”
“So he worked with you on the case?”
“No, at first he just shadowed me. I was working on a homicide; pretty open and shut so he accompanied me when I took the statements, visited a scene…that kind of thing. He was no more than a kid but always asking questions. What time did I work till? Where did I buy my clothes? What did I do when I finished? I guess, in his own way, he was trying to understand what it was like working homicide. We’d go out and have a few beers, he was nice enough.”
“I thought you didn’t drink?”
“I quit when I moved out East. Anyway, everything changed when I got the first Griffith Park murder. I knew straight away I was out of my depth. I told the actor we’d have to part ways as I’d be too busy to spend any time with him. But he insisted.”
“Insisted on what?”
Jones shook his head, “Sticking around.”
They pulled up at airport security, flashed their papers and were ushered through; the car drove straight for their jet on the tarmac. It was getting dark now and the wind had picked up; the jet engines were already spinning in anticipation of a quick departure.
Inside drinks, as usual, were waiting; scotch on the rocks for Daniel and a soda for Jones. There were also the day’s papers and a memo from Toby. Daniel glanced at it before knocking back his drink.
“So what happened? The actor contaminated your crime scene?”
“You don’t remember the Griffith Park murders, do you?”
“I remember them being on the news. A lot of young girls. Strangled, right?”
“At first. Then they were mutilated, cut up and displayed.”
“Displayed?” Daniel shifted in his seat and buckled up, Jones did likewise.
“The first one we didn’t know what to make of. She’d been placed around a tree…in bits. It must have taken a while to get it right, just the way he wanted it. It was the most disturbing thing I had ever seen…up until the next one. Same MO, same cause of death…this time she was spread out on a field. There were eight murders in total.”
“Where does the actor come in to it?”
Jones took another swig from his soda; just for a moment Daniel thought he saw him eye his scotch. The brown eyes looked damp, the face downtrodden. “After we realised we had a serial killer on our hands he had to go. He didn’t take it too bad; he knew he would be in the way and things could get serious. But we kept in touch.
Months passed, years. We never did catch the killer. The actor, well, he got his big break. Made a big movie, then another one. The bars we drank in got more expensive but he didn’t mind payin’ and I didn’t mind drinkin'.’”
“Who was he?”
“Marco Lowe.”
“The Marco Lowe?”
“That’s not his real name. His real name is Marco di Conti.”
Daniel breathed out, “Still. That’s pretty cool.”
“Cool?”
“Well, he’s a big star. He does all those action movies. ‘Road Kill’ – you seen that one?”
“No, I’ve only ever seen one of his films. It’s called ‘Out in the Garden.’”
Daniel titled his head. “Can’t say I’ve heard of that one.”
“I’m not surprised. The studio pulled it shortly after murder number six.”
“Why?”
“Because it was about someone who strangled girls in Griffith Park. Di Conti had made the film ten years earlier; it was a B movie. Never got shown nowhere. But he chose not to mention it.”
Daniel realised his mouth was open. An image of Marco Lowe flashed through his mind. An open shirt, a gun in his hand, rippled chest. Titles like Loose Cannon and Desperate Measures; a lone maverick cop with a gun seemed to be just about the only character he could play.
“So you suspected him?” he said.
“Years later,” said Jones, “when he’d made it big and we’d stopped hanging out together, I happened to be awake one night. I hadn’t been able to sleep, never did much in those days, and so flicked on the tube. Came across some B movie channel and saw it was one of his movies so decided to give it a go.
“It all fit. The MO, the girl’s descriptions even the way he laid out the bodies; all just like the movie. It was almost too obvious. What we used to call an ‘orgy of evidence.’”
“So what happened?”
The next morning, I spoke to the Chief, got a warrant and went over to his house to pull him in for questioning. The whole station was in chaos. We couldn’t release any details of course so we had to section off an interrogation room in case the press got hold of it. The studio had some pretty high powered lawyers and if it got out and we were wrong they would have had our asses. But God bless him, the Chief, he stuck by me.”
“So did he confess?”
“Hell, no,” Jones slapped his hand. “The son of a bitch said I’d been stalking him! Said I was obsessed with him, had been following him in to bars, calling him.
“Shit.”
“I ended up getting moved downtown, didn’t much care for it so I left the LAPD and moved across country. Five years later you showed up. I’m sorry you had to have it dragged up on TV like that.”
“Don’t be,” Daniel said, flatly. “Don’t ever apologise. When that chat show guy mentioned the story
I was scared. Throughout all of this you’re the one person I’ve been able to rely upon. For a moment I thought even that was a lie. But it wasn’t. After what you just told me I’ve got more respect for you than ever.”
“I hope Toby agrees with you. You know how he feels about bad PR.” Jones scratched his chin and smirked.
“That’s not his decision any more and I bet he’s no different. Everyone’s got baggage, except me. I just wasted what life I had so far. But I’m going to change that.”
“You haven’t wasted your life.”
“I have, but it doesn’t bother me. You know, I used to write. Short stories, poems; I‘d enter competitions. For that one or two days before the results were posted I’d dream about winning. About being discovered and being asked to write a blockbuster. Then, the results would come out and I wouldn’t have won. I’d be deflated but it didn’t matter. I enjoyed those few days every year when I could dream.”
“You sure did enter a lot of competitions.”
Daniel looked at him, raised an eyebrow.
“I’m sorry,” said Jones, “I forget I’ve seen your file. It’s personal.”
“That’s okay. I forget I have one.”
The jet pushed them both back in their seats and surged into the sky. Above the clouds the sunset was beautiful. It beckoned them to distant lands and dreams. Jones started to doze pretty quickly and after watching him gently snooze for a while, Daniel too found peace in the embrace of sleep.
Central Intelligence Agency
Interview Transcript
File Number – 133329DKK
Date and Time: Classified
Agent Conducting Interview:
Classified Classified
Session 2
AGENT Classified
So then you shot to fame. Everybody on the planet knew who you were. “The Man the Robot was Chasing.” Everyone.
LOMAN
Yes, everyone.
AGENT Classified
How did that feel, Daniel?
LOMAN
Excuse me?
AGENT Classified
Insequor Page 10