by J. A. Faura
Leonard looked as scared as he did because he understood better than most the type of threat these beings posed. He had dedicated his life to researching them, but he had done it from behind a figurative glass, not really thinking of them as his neighbor or his mailman or one of his students. And now that Steven had done what he had done, Leonard had no choice but to see them as people he was living among, perhaps much closer than he imagined.
As Leonard had stood to bid him goodbye, there was a sense of urgency in his voice of some sort of timeline looming that Steven didn’t quite understand.
Leonard had said something rather cryptic when he bid Steven goodbye, “Technology, Mr. Loomis, has kept us alive until now, but these beings, these predators know that and they will use it. Psychopaths troll the Internet for victims, but that is not where the true danger lies. My most fervent hope is that the attention you’ve brought to this, to the science, will be enough to warn the world.
“What you’ve done, Mr. Loomis, Steven, is to simply ask the United States legal system to legally define what a human being is. Actually, you’re going to be asking 12 of your peers, ordinary people, to do that. Whatever happens from here, what will not change is that the question has been asked. No matter what the verdict is, the world will keep asking the question, wondering whether this is real or not. I hope that will be enough.”
Steven sensed there was something he was missing, something big just under the surface, but as had been the case many times before, he found he simply could not go deeper, not until his trial was over.
Steven turned his head, taking in the towering skyline, thinking about how New York had a way of growing on you. It had on him. He also thought about other places, other cities, each with their own charm, each with their own peculiarity and each with their own danger. He wasn’t some kind of hero, some kind of savior ready to take on all the villains out there. He was just a man who loved his family and his job and wanted nothing more than to go back to both. But sometimes the fates had other plans, sometimes even when you didn’t want to, you could be pulled into a life you had never imagined.
He remembered a time when he had been watching a show about lions on the National Geographic channel and Tracy had cuddled up with him. It had been just under a year ago and he had wondered then whether she might be too young to watch the show with him but decided that she was old enough to watch nature unfold. He kept glancing down at her on his chest and paid particularly close attention when the images of the lionesses in the pride hunting down a young, injured impala appeared on the screen. She had watched silently and when it was done, she lifted her head from his chest and asked him why lions were so mean. He explained about nature and the cycle of life and how the lionesses had to feed their own babies, too, and that in nature that meant that bigger animals would sometimes have to hunt and eat smaller ones. She laid her head back down on his chest, clearly thinking about what her father had told her and lifted her head a few minutes later to let him know she understood. Just simply that, she understood. He gripped the railing tighter, hit hard by the irony of the memory.
These things, whatever they were, did not see what they did as evil or depraved, it was just their nature, what they were made to do, just like he had told his daughter about the lions. Now, in the grip of his memory, he wondered with no small sense of irony what the impalas he had watched with his daughter would think about the lions hunting them. He had an idea now, they might think them cruel and cold and evil, as his daughter had thought they were. But the truth was that in the African prairies where the impala lived, the lions were apex predators, nothing more and nothing less.
His old life, the one he had procured for himself and his family, had gone the day Tracy had disappeared. He could have let it go and moved on to mourn his daughter and to pick up the pieces of his life, but that’s just not how he was built. If he hadn’t known it then, he certainly knew it now. What he had learned and what he had done had been nothing more than the primer, the trigger for what was about to come. Time would tell what his life would ultimately turn into, but right now he was enjoying the view from the top of his building and, just for a little while, just being a man.
As he stood gripping the railing and breathing in the cool morning air, Steven Loomis felt ready. There would be much more that he would have to face, that he would have to figure his way through, but his family was taken care of and his people were behind him. As someone who had faced death countless times, he knew these two things were what most often pulled a man through. As he started to head back to the door to go back down to the lobby and to think about the rest of his day, it hit him. He knew what it was that had been just under the surface, just out of his reach. It wasn’t something he had been working up to or eased into, it came fast and hard, and it almost knocked the breath out of him. He now understood what Leonard had been so cryptic about, what he had been trying to tell Steven without actually saying it.
He now knew why Scoma had almost shut down and why Leonard had looked so haunted. He knew why Leonard had that sense of urgency in his voice. He thought he understood the gravity, the enormity of the threat humanity faced, and now he also knew Barlow had been right, he hadn’t understood how far and how deep this went. He now remembered the paper he had seen that Scoma and Leonard had written together. Just as both scientists had explained, it was a paper about grouping behavior and how prey used it to defend against superior predators. It also explained how humanity had used it to survive, to defend itself against all predators, just like Leonard had told him. The focus of the paper was on the threat to these defensive mechanisms, how advanced or sophisticated predators understood these mechanisms and devised ways to defeat them, often turning these very defenses against their prey. What knocked Steven’s breath out of him and brought his heart up into his throat was the specific topic of the paper, what was in fact on the title: Homo sapiens predaer and Social Media.
Chapter 25
After spending just under 15 minutes on the roof, Steven headed down the way he had come. Once he reached the lobby, his security guard fell in behind him. He walked over to Ernie, who was eagerly waiting for him to get back, “Thanks, Ernie, I appreciate it.” Ernie smiled, clearly relieved, “No problem, Mr. L, I think there’s some people that want to talk to you.” Steven followed Ernie’s gaze and saw that the media was now awake and present. The building’s security had kept them from coming into the lobby, but they were three and four deep on the sidewalk. Steven shook his head, “Fucking vultures. I can’t believe how many are out there.” Ernie also shaking his head added, “That’s nothing, Mr. L, just wait until lunch time, that’s when they really get rowdy.”
Steven had no intention to wait for that to happen, “Lou, call the car. Tell him to just pull in front of the building and wait there for us.” Lou did as he was told and started toward the door, walking in front of Steven and ready to plow a path to the car if necessary. As Steven started toward the door, Ernie called out to him, “Hey, Mr. Loomis, I almost forgot!” Steven stopped as Ernie came around and trotted toward him with something in his hand, “A lady came by yesterday and left this for you. She said to give it to you in person, that’s why I didn’t send it to you by courier like other times. She said to just toss it if you didn’t come in by this afternoon.”
Steven took the sealed envelope with nothing written on the outside. He opened it and was truly taken aback by what he found in it. A printed note read: ‘MEET ME AT BRUNO’S BISTRO. I WILL BE THERE UNTIL 3:00 PM ON WEDNESDAY. COME ALONE OR NOT AT ALL.’ Steven had absolutely no idea who the person could possibly be. A reporter trying to get an interview maybe? But why the time limit? And why all the cloak-and-dagger crap?
He turned to Ernie, who was still standing there, clearly curious about the note, “What did she look like, Ernie? Was she old, young, what can you remember about her?” Ernie thought for a few seconds, “She was dressed pretty nice, you know, like in a business suit, nice watch, nice shoes,
I don’t know what brand they were or anything but, you know, you can tell they were some expensive shoes, nice watch too, a Rolex. She wasn’t old, but she also wasn’t too young or anything, you know, she was like your age, no offense or nothin’. She was looker, though, real sexy-like.” Steven smiled, “None taken, anything else you can tell me?”
Ernie looked up at the ceiling, trying to remember anything else, “Hmm, let me think, yeah! She had like an accent, like she was from Europe or somethin’. I don’t really know what kind of accent it was, but I know it wasn’t a Spanish accent, my girlfriend is Puerto Rican and I know a Spanish accent, believe me.” Steven, still trying to figure out who the note could have possibly come from, asked a final question, “Have you told anyone about the note, Ernie?” Ernie took on a puzzled look, “Uh, no, Mr. L, I didn’t, was I supposed to?” Steven shook his head, “No, Ernie, not at all. Hey, do me a favor and keep this between us, alright?” Ernie smiled, “No prob, Mr. L, can do.” Ernie headed back to his post and Steven stood in the middle of the lobby trying to figure out who the author of the note could be. It didn’t take him long to figure out that it was definitely nobody he knew. No one in his family or professional circle would contact him in this way. Who then?
As Steven sat in the lobby thinking, Lou was already at the door and bracing himself to plow past the reporters blocking his way to the SUV waiting at the curb, “Hey, Mr. Loomis, the driver’s here, we need to go.” Steven looked over, nodded and got on his way. He had been lax in his personal security protocols before his encounter with Barlow, but now the old instincts kicked in. As he was walking behind Lou, he tensed his body and prepared to respond to anything that looked out of place, ready to engage immediately if he sensed something amiss. He walked firmly to the open car door, using leverage and pressure to move those that were impeding his progress out of the way. He didn’t shove or push anyone, but he was firm in his handling of them as he made his way to the waiting car.
Once inside, with Lou sitting in the front seat, Steven resumed his thinking. He had already come to the conclusion that it had not been a reporter trying to get a story or someone he knew personally or professionally. He was completely at a loss as to who it could be. The note had said ‘until 3:00 PM’ and to ‘come alone.’ Could it be Barlow? No, Steven reasoned, Barlow was most likely on his way to wherever his next destination was, he had already delivered the message he needed to deliver. Who then? Steven had been tempted to simply ignore the message and go to his attorneys’ offices to begin preparations for his trial. He knew that was the smart thing to do, but he could not help his curiosity. Whoever had left the note wanted to speak with him and wanted to do so in a place that would be private and away from the eyes of the media, his attorneys and his family.
Bruno’s was a well-known mafia hangout in Little Italy. It had been the scene of multiple hits during the ’70s and ’80s and was still considered to be a dangerous place for anyone who didn’t belong there. The note had said to be there before three, before the dinner crowd, which meant the place would most likely be deserted, except for those who had business to transact there. All of that told Steven that whoever it was who left the note was either a member of the mafia or had some serious connections to the mafia. Neither of those options made any sense, however. Steven had never had occasion to deal with or even come close to dealing with anyone connected to the New York mafia. He knew the smart thing to do was to ignore the note, but he decided that whoever had left the note might have some information or some message that might prove valuable. It was still early and he would have more than enough time to head to his lawyers’ offices afterwards.
Drew’s calls hadn’t started yet, so he had an hour to go to Bruno’s. His driver had been heading to the law offices, so when Steven told him where he wanted to go, the man had looked first in the rearview mirror and then at Lou sitting next to him. Lou simply shrugged his shoulders and the car changed directions and headed to Little Italy. When they got to Bruno’s Bistro, Steven gave his driver and security instructions to stay in the car.
Lou seemed uneasy with the idea, “Mr. Loomis, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
Steven knew Lou was just doing his job and that he didn’t know what the note said, but the note asked for him to come alone, and while going in alone might be a bad idea, going in with Lou was a worse idea. Still, he tried to reassure him, “Don’t worry, Lou, I won’t be long. I doubt anyone is going to try anything here, they tend to frown on people trying anything that hasn’t been sanctioned.”
Steven knew Lou had been a cop with the organized crime squad, so he was well aware of what went on at Bruno’s, and he knew Steven was right, other than a rival group trying to pull off a hit, this was a well-guarded place. The new mafia had morphed into an even more businesslike organization, engaging in cyber theft, massive pirating operations, and massive counterfeiting operations of brand-name handbags, shoes and anything else that might turn a profit. The days of hijacking trucks, stealing containers of cigarettes, and extortion of local businesses were a thing of the past for the old New York mob and more the purview of the Russian gangs.
Steven walked up to the door of the restaurant and saw there were a few people inside. One man was behind a long bar, obviously stocking its shelves, while another one was mopping the floor. Along with the two men working, there were two other men, one sitting at the bar reading a newspaper and the other sitting at a table near the door with an espresso next to him and seemingly enthralled by a crossword puzzle. The two men sitting were most definitely not restaurant employees. Both were wearing expensive suits rather than aprons. As he expected, the sign on the door said CLOSED. When he got near the door, the man sitting at the table close to it stood up, walked over and opened it before he could knock.
He looked Steven up and down with a frown on his face, “Yeah?”
Steven wasn’t sure how to respond, so he simply pulled the note from his breast pocket, “Someone left a note asking for me to come here, so here I am.”
Without saying anything, the man motioned with his head for Steven to come inside and closed the door after him. Once inside, he started to frisk Steven.
Steven took a step back, “Whoa there, I’m armed, big guy, and I’m not giving you my gun.”
The crossword guy tried to step forward while the man sitting at the bar was now standing and moving toward Steven, who shifted his body in order to address both men. The two men paused in their movement, both of them considering what to do next. Although they did not know Steven, his face and his background had been reported almost around the clock in every medium imaginable. Both men were accustomed to most people yielding to their physical size and their threatening countenance, but Steven wasn’t most people, he was an experienced former Navy SEAL and both men knew the reputation of the SEALs.
Before the situation could get any more heated, a woman appeared from a side hallway that led to a small private dining room next to the main dining room, “Paul, Sonny, it is okay, he is not going to cause any problems.”
The two men looked at each other, gave Steven an angry, reproachful look and went back to their respective posts. Steven walked over to where the woman was standing. Before he could get all the way to where she stood, she turned and walked back to a small booth in the side dining room with Steven close behind her. Once they were both seated, Steven got a good look at the stranger. There was something faintly familiar about her, but even after he had scoured his memory he was still coming up blank.
The woman smiled, “Still cannot figure out who I am? Maybe you would have better luck if I were carrying a few packages.”
Steven grinned, “That’s where I know you from. That’s why you looked vaguely familiar.”
The woman’s smile broadened, “I am impressed you thought I looked familiar, I took some pretty extreme measures to change my appearance.”
Steven gave her a thin smile in return, “It’s your walk. You have a
unique gait. You did a good job, though. You didn’t look familiar until I saw you walk just now.”
She nodded thoughtfully, “I will have to remember that next time.”
The woman sitting in front of him was slender, most likely in her early to mid-40s, with auburn hair down to her shoulders, and a handsome face with an olive complexion that gave her a Mediterranean look. She had brown eyes that could be mistaken for black in dim light. She moved with an easy and fluid grace that conveyed confidence, strength and training. The woman he had run into on the sidewalk was clumsy and awkward in her movements. The woman spoke with a very subtle accent, most likely Middle Eastern, but definitely not Arabic, which made her either Israeli or Persian.
She sensed him trying to figure out who she really was and decided to give him a clue, “This is nothing like the Mazar-i-Sharif, is it, Steven?”
By mentioning that site, she let Loomis know she had read some of the most confidential files on him, something definitely not easy to do. Barlow had let him know he had access to those records and here was the proof.
Although more relaxed now, Steven was still uncomfortable with the meeting and wanted to get on with whatever she had in mind. “Listen, I don’t know what it is you want, but your boss already gave me his message. I got it, alright, I got it. I’d just like to get on with my case and back to my family, so you can let him know he’s clear, I have no interest in whatever it is he’s doing.”