Clean

by Tom Lytes

  “The thing is though; he could have done anything to me before that moment and I wouldn’t have seen it coming.”

  “Things change, Peg,” Bobby said. “I have known a lot of policemen in a lot of places.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Peggy said. “That’s why I thought you might be able to help me with this. I’m actually scared of this guy.”

  “You should be,” Bobby said. “Here’s the thing. You know he plays by his own rules down there already. If he didn’t, he would have pulled you into custody the first time the FBI sneezed in your direction. So, you already know he’s a lone gun who, for whatever the fuck the reason, doesn’t like authority except for his own.”

  Peggy thought about it. “Yeah, all that is true.”

  “Right,” Bobby said. “Now you’ve gotta believe that when it suits him to turn on you, he will not hesitate. He’ll do it in a heartbeat. He plays loose with the rules. You’re feeling weird around him for a good fucking reason. Watch your ass, Peg.”

  “Yeah, I could see that.”

  “Faking your own death is fucking ridiculous,” Bobby said. “Unless you’re in a spy movie or something. Maybe it makes it easier for him to kill you later. Be careful of that.”

  “What do I do?” Peggy asked.

  “Go with it if you don’t have a choice,” Bobby said. “And I don’t think you do. If you leave, he’ll put the Feds on you and could make up whatever-the-fuck to serve his purpose. He’s right about one thing: if you’re technically dead you will have a lot of freedom to fight the program. It could be good. Just stay in touch with me. And watch your ass.”

  “Yeah,” Peggy said. “It always comes back to my ass one way or another.”

  “I’m being serious here,” Bobby said. “But if you’re fishing for compliments, you do have a fine ass.”

  “Not fishing for compliments.”

  “Got it,” he said. “Want me to send some guys to watch you?”

  “I definitely don’t want that,” Peggy said. “Just send the guys who can get us into Clemson’s computer.”

  “Suit yourself. But watch your ass, if you don’t want me watching it for you.”

  Peggy didn’t reply, so Bobby filled the silence, changing the subject.

  “We’ll be in touch tomorrow about the Clemsum thing.”

  “Yeah,” Peggy said. She was standing alone now on the section of beach closest to the ship, which despite everything was still partially engulfed in flame. “Thanks for your help, Bobby.”

  Some of the emergency units seemed to be packing up their stations and a few technicians were loading their vehicles. Officer Pincus was using a bullhorn to communicate with the crowd of onlookers, directing the increased traffic coming in and out of the narrow beach path. She started to stroll over to where Leonard was standing with the other civilians.

  “Anytime, Peg,” Bobby said.

  Peggy asked, “And Bobby?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You know anything about Leonard speaking German?”

  “Wouldn’t surprise me if he knew seven languages,” Bobby said. “Guy’s a fucking genius.”

  “Yeah,” Peggy said, “I guess so.”

  He hung up, and Peggy put her phone away. She saw Leonard, standing by himself, looking into the flames of the ship.

  “Hi, Leonard.”

  33

  “Peggy, Peggy Whitfield?” Leonard asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I thought it was you. Hard to see in the light.” He extended his hand to shake. “I’m glad you left New York. You were in a lot of danger there,” he said.

  Peggy saw Leonard smile as he turned, lit by the shifting light of the fire that glimmered in his eyes. Was he flirting with her? Enjoying the conversation.

  She gave him a hard stare.

  “Not too safe, here, either,” she said, nodding her head toward the burning container ship. “I’m guessing that was the work of Clean, right?”

  Leonard nodded.

  “Dramatic, why that ship?”

  Leonard shrugged.

  “Do you even know?” Peggy asked.

  “Let’s talk more quietly,” Leonard said. “Peggy, the program has lost its equilibrium. Essentially, it’s learned the “wrong” thing. I don’t have a clue why it decided that ship needed to blaze afire.”

  “You really don’t know?”

  “Nope,” Leonard said, chuckling in a way that trivialized the magnitude of his words. “And there are so many more. Deaths that seem random to you and me, but Clean has determined will improve mankind.”

  “How could you make such a thing come to life?” Peggy asked, clenching her fists.

  “I have reasons for everything I’ve done, Peggy.” Leonard said, not backing down. “I’m sure you can say the same thing about what you’ve done. We don’t need to discuss our pasts, or we can.”

  Peggy’s thoughts went to Doyle. Did Leonard know she killed him? She searched his eyes but found nothing in them. Yet of course he knew, probably through Clean. Still, there was no judgement, fear, or anger in Leonard’s expression. She felt defensive, having been called out for her own actions, and remorseful. What was she thinking when she killed Doyle?

  Leonard interrupted her thoughts, “I’m afraid the random killings will only get worse. In addition to learning to kill the wrong people, it’s methodology for murder will mimic crimes that people come to expect and do nothing about.”

  “Like what?” Peggy asked.

  “Mass killings, for one,” Leonard said. “What has society actually done to prevent lone gunman from shooting into crowds.” He didn’t pause long enough for Peggy to answer. “I’ll tell you what: nothing. Those assassinations are tolerated. We watch our politicians weep on television and promise action. We hope it doesn’t affect people we know, and we’re happy to forget about it ten minutes later at the fast food drive through.”

  Peggy nodded, more to encourage him to keep talking than to agree with his perspectives.

  “Clean works around the peripheries of possibility. Every death Clean initiates, has roots in real possibilities. Yesterday, for example, a garage door crushed a man. The safety mechanism hadn’t worked on the garage for a year. Everyone, including the neighbor who killed him, knew the man deferred the repair to another time. So, when the police came to the scene, they looked at the broken safety equipment and classified the death as an accident. I know, and the neighbor knows, and now you know that Clean was behind it. Everyone else, they’ll trust the official report.”

  “You say Clean was behind it, but what about the neighbor. Didn’t the neighbor commit murder? What will Clean do to him?”

  “Clean won’t persecute him for that murder, that the program encouraged. Of course,” Leonard laughed, “his name will be on the list. If he does anything untoward online, like watch porn, tell a buddy he cheated on his taxes, bully somebody—”

  Leonard shrugged like the guy would get what he deserved.

  “But if the program’s criteria have gone askew, anybody could be killed for any reason.”

  “That’s right, Peggy. It’s starting to spin out of control and the killing will become random.”

  “Damn you, Leonard.”

  “I’m not happy with the latest developments either, Peggy,” Leonard said. “I’d like to help you put a stop to it. That is why you came here, right? To work with me.”

  Peggy whipped her head around and her hair went straight out to the side.

  “Why would we want you, the one who created and lost control of Clean to be involved in stopping it?”

  Leonard pushed his hair back off his forehead.

  “For one thing, Clean has done everything I wanted it to do, so I’d like to stop it too. Secondly, you might want me involved because no one knows it better than me. I’m the one that can
stop it. I just need some help.”

  Peggy looked out to the burning ship. “It has to be stopped.”

  Leonard nodded, “You are marked for death. Clean will find you, and it will kill you.”

  “What?”

  “You knew that, right?”

  “No… yes, I—”

  He put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s just a matter of time, now.”

  Peggy felt the fear rip at her insides. She looked all around her. Was everybody around her plotting to kill her, maybe a random shooter like Leonard said. How was she going to defend herself against that? And if what Leonard said was true, people all over the world were about to be killed in massive catastrophes. She focused her eyes on the cargo ship. Contained but burning steadily, the fire in the ocean symbolized Clean’s ability to strike where least expected, to cause mayhem anywhere.

  “Do you have a plan?” Peggy asked. “Finley, the FBI computer pro, thought he might lure Clean to the supercomputer at Clemson by making it an ideal host.”

  “That could work. If I know where it is, I can neutralize it,” Leonard said.

  Peggy thought to herself, “With Fin watching closely over your shoulder.” She said aloud, “Finley was worried he might need multiple hours to shut it down, and that would be after he lured Clean into the host computer.”

  “I can reduce that time considerably, knowing how the program thinks, and its construction.”

  Peggy turned away from the ship, “Let’s get to work.”

  “We can work at my house,” Leonard said. “I’ve got internet access through a satellite feed with superior bandwidth.”

  Peggy reached for her phone and looked at Leonard warily. Was she really willing to team up with this guy? Finley said it himself, basically, that they needed help. The Bureau wasn’t going to give it to them.

  “Hey, Fin, we’re getting some help from Leonard to stop Clean.”

  “Okay, to tell you the truth, it would help to have him in the room when we try to stop Clean. I can’t do it alone, and he did create the thing.”

  “He told me the same thing about thirty seconds ago,” Peggy said.

  “Are you with him? Are you safe?”

  “We’re going to his house. It’s at 1113 Middle. Why don’t you meet us there?”

  “Peggy,” Finley said, “do you think that’s a good idea? You could wait for me. That guy—”

  “We’ve got to stop Clean, Fin. I’m going to Leonard’s place. Meet us there.”

  “I’m leaving the station right now.”

  Peggy heard the sound of a laptop shutting, and Finley collect his keys from the top of a metal, government issue desk. She could imagine him scrambling out of the police station and running to his Smart Car.

  “Okay, and thanks Finley.”

  “You could stay on the phone until I arrive, and—”

  “See you soon,” Peggy said as she disconnected the call.

  Peggy and Leonard walked in silence towards his house, climbing the stairs from the pool and accessing the living room from the pool deck. They’d barley closed the door when Finley knocked on the door and Leonard let him inside.

  “Are you Finley?” Leonard asked.

  Finley looked at Leonard like, “Who else would it be?” and nodded.

  Peggy smiled at Finley as he deposited a laptop and various computer bags onto the dining table where Leonard had similar equipment.

  Leonard said, “Peggy outlined your plan to stop Clean with the supercomputer.”

  “Yes, I’ve been thinking about how to lure it to Clemson’s machinery. Are you familiar with their set-up?”

  Peggy looked between the men. They were already focused on the task at hand. Leonard’s sparse furnishings splurged with a single couch overlooking the floor-to-ceiling windows of his living room. She realized how little sleep she had in the past days. Peggy stepped out of her shoes and fell onto the couch, sound asleep in seconds.

  Peggy woke up a few hours later as the sun slowly rose over the beach. She heard Finley and Leonard discussing something in the other room while her eyes were drawn to the burned cargo ship. The unmoving nautical object reminded Peggy of an overzealously grilled hot dog. The basic outline of the ship looked fine, and the metal containers retained their boxy form. Obviously, their cargo wouldn’t have fared as well, and she couldn’t get images of melted chocolate, candles or plastic Barbies out of her mind.

  In the foreground, Peggy noticed the neighbor boys coming onto the beach with their surfboards half dragging in the sand along with them. Rubbing at her eyes, she stepped onto the porch and waved. When they noticed her, it was clear that a heated argument broke out right away. It went on for at least four coffee sips, and she went back into the kitchen to refill her mug. She made a fresh batch of coffee with the super-speedy, overly-complicated French machine that was intuitively difficult to maneuver.

  When she came out towards the porch again, the youngest boy was standing in the doorway. He wore no shirt and a long Bermuda-shorts-styled bathing suit. His feet were covered in sand, and so was a spot on his forehead where it looked like he used a sandy hand to push his hair off his face. He looked lean and strong and tan, and very tiny. Most of all, he looked worried. His mouth was open, and it looked as though he was trying to maintain his composure.

  “Are you okay?” Peggy asked gently.

  She looked out to the ocean and saw the older brother sitting on a surf board, waiting for waves. Peggy went to hug the little boy and provide him comfort. He dropped down onto his hands and knees and rolled, right there on the porch.

  “I’ll just leave,” the boy said, crawling away like a bear, on his hands and feet. “I’ll just go, right now. Please don’t hurt me.”

  Peggy startled and hugged herself with both arms. She was suddenly cold and wished she had a jacket.

  “Hey, little man,” she said kindly as she kneeled to look the little boy in the eyes. “I would never hurt you. What’s going on here?”

  “You could hurt me,” the boy was still moving away without taking his wide eyes off Peggy. “That could happen. I know it.”

  “Of course it couldn’t. I wouldn’t. What are you talking about?”

  “You’re dead,” he said. “Mr. Leonard is a vampire and he killed you. And now you’re dead. Maybe you’re a ghost. I don’t know about that yet, but I think you are.”

  “Dead?” Peggy asked.

  “Yes,” the boy said. “We heard our parents saying all kinds of stuff about it this morning. They were talking about the ghost ship and how it burned up. You died trying to save all the people. It was on the news.”

  “It was on the news,” Peggy said, repeating what she’d heard. And then more to herself than the boy, she said, “Because I died trying to help the people, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Did you say ghost ship?”

  “Yeah,” the boy said. “I learned in church that God would strike down the sinners and they go straight to hell. And hell has a lot of fire.” With wide-eyed angst, he pointed to the burned-out ship. “Now you’re a ghost.”

  “I see,” Peggy said.

  “Except sometimes I don’t think you’re a sinner,” the boy said. “My brother thinks you are though, big time, especially if you’re being with Leonard, and he’s the Vampire King and all.”

  “Well, that sounds like logical thinking,” Peggy said. “Sometimes things get more confusing than they need to be. I tell you what. I am not a ghost, and I am alive. There is a good reason that I was on the news today, and it’s complicated.”

  “The news was a lie?” the boy asked. “Daddy says it is sometimes. Sinners lie and go to hell for eternal damnation. I really think the ghost ship came straight from hell.”

  “Hmm, I wouldn’t know about that.”

  “Yeah,” the boy said. “That’s w
hat happened.” He was nodding and looking at the ship anchored just off the shore. “I’m glad to hear you’re not a ghost.”

  “I am definitely not a ghost,” Peggy said.

  “Okay. I’m going surfing now. My brother’s already out there. I’ll tell him you aren’t dead or anything.”

  “Okay,” Peggy said. “Thanks for coming and talking to me.”

  The little boy waved over his shoulder and ran at full speed down the steps to join his brother. He expertly navigated the sand, which was already heating up, sticking to the grass where possible and jumping to the shadows afforded by the dunes and low bushes as he made his way to the water. In a minute, he was paddling off the beach towards his brother, and Peggy watched them reunite.

  She pulled out her phone and did a Google search for her name. Sure enough, she was dead according to the Charleston newspaper, The Post and Courier.

  “I never agreed to it,” Peggy said, looking at her screen, frustrated, thinking about her conversation with Officer Pincus. “I can’t believe he just did it. How could he have just declared me dead?”

  A picture of her from a few years prior when she graduated from the police academy accompanied a quote from Officer Pincus. He deftly covered himself by saying that he and Peggy met each other briefly, on a professional basis, and in that capacity, he held her in high regard.

  “You can’t just declare me dead,” Peggy yelled at Officer Pincus as if he could communicate with her through the newspaper article. Could she feel any more out of control? “I can’t believe this.”

  Peggy realized she’d been yelling and looked around to see if she was overheard. With nobody visible within listening distance, she put her attention back to her phone. To her surprise, the article included quotes from her mother in Palm Beach. She’d told the reporter that she and Peggy were soon to reunite in Florida in a surreal, untrue statement.

  “Peggy was in the process of moving down to Palm Beach,” her mother’s quote said. “I’m completely distraught. I last spoke with her a few days ago, and she met someone. I think it was getting serious. He’s a very talented polo player, and of course she was into dressage for so many years, they had the horse life in common.”