Gone in a Flash

by Susan Rogers Cooper

  ‘No, now, that wasn’t my fault. I got laid off—’

  Mr Big clicked his tongue and shook his head. ‘You Americans, always ready with an excuse for your failures. And yet your lives are so easy! Me? I was born in a gulag, yet look at me now!’ He waved his arms around the room. ‘I live in a mansion! I live like a czar! You? You are pitiful. And no, your job is not over, Mr Jones, and it will not be over until I say it is over. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yeah, sure,’ Mr Jones said sullenly, as the crying lady sat a plate of food down in front of him. He took a bite. Um, he thought, scrambled eggs with cheese and onions. And bacon. And fried potatoes! Oh, and look! Biscuits! Yummy.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Alicia said.

  They were sitting outside on the covered deck, side by side on the porch swing, holding hands. ‘It’ll just be until Christmas – that’s the end of the semester,’ Graham said. ‘This way I won’t have wasted the money Mom and Dad put out for my tuition and books and the dorm and everything, and I’ll get some credits behind me. But most of all, it’ll give everybody a chance to cool off. Get things back to as close to normal as they can get, considering.’

  ‘Considering what?’ Alicia said, her lower lip quivering.

  ‘Considering that I love you and that you, hopefully, love me,’ he said quietly.

  ‘Oh, I do!’ Alicia said, and threw her arms around Graham’s neck. He laughed then sobered and kissed her for the first time. Then the two just sat there for a long time.

  Finally Alicia said, ‘I don’t know if I can stand being away from you now.’

  ‘Yeah, you can,’ Graham said, kissing her hand. ‘We know where we stand now. And we know it’s just going to be a matter of a few months.’

  Alicia sighed. ‘I guess Mom and Dad really need to get back into the same bedroom.’

  Graham laughed. ‘Those two can make any place a bedroom.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I started to come downstairs early this morning. I went straight back up,’ he said.

  Alicia covered her mouth. ‘You mean?’

  ‘Right there on the family-room sofa.’

  ‘Ewwww …’

  Elizabeth Unger was gone. When Mayfair and DeWitt finally got into the Unger home, they too (besides, of course, the Houston PD, who had already gone over every aspect of the house and its disarray) discovered that the greatest possibility was that Mrs Unger had been snatched. Nobody was that bad a housekeeper. Overturned chairs and tables, broken dishes, food on the floor. No, it was pretty obvious that someone had come in while Mrs Unger was fixing dinner for two and taken her. The kitchen table was set for two, and there was still food in pots on the stove, crusted over and dried out. Mrs Unger obviously put up a fight, but to no avail. It was also a good bet that she’d been snatched before her husband had been killed in Austin.

  ‘Ya think we could get into her lab?’ DeWitt said.

  ‘Ya think HPD hasn’t already done that?’ Mayfair answered sarcastically.

  ‘Ya think you could keep your opinions to yourself ?’ DeWitt replied.

  ‘Ya think you could shut the fuck up?’ was Mayfair’s response.

  ‘No. I mean it. We should go to the lab,’ DeWitt said.

  ‘Where is it?’ Mayfair asked.

  ‘Fuck if I know,’ DeWitt answered.

  ‘Call the Houston loo,’ Mayfair said.

  ‘You call him,’ DeWitt said.

  ‘You’re a fucking idiot,’ Mayfair said as she pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and hit the number she’d put in earlier that day. ‘Loo, this is Mayfair from Austin. Yes, sir. We’re at the house. We’d like to go by the lab, sir, if that’s all right with you.’ She listened for a moment then said, ‘Yes, sir. I understand, but just as another pair of eyes, sir?’ Again she listened. ‘Thank you, Loo. Now if we could get the address?’ She listened for a second then hung up the phone.

  ‘So what’s the address?’ DeWitt asked.

  ‘He wouldn’t tell me. He said, “look it up.”’ Mayfair looked at her partner. ‘Think you can handle that?’ she asked and vacated the house, heading for their car.

  Unger Laboratories was near downtown, very close to, if not actually in, Houston’s infamous Fifth Ward. It was a cement block, one-story building surrounded by a seven-foot tall wrought-iron fence, bars at the one door and the windows. Considering the disrepair of the neighboring buildings – burnt-out shells, or those still standing with broken windows, and empty of life – it was a fair statement of fact about their location.

  An unmarked car pulled up about the same time as Mayfair and DeWitt. The man inside showed them his detective’s shield and leaned out the window, something in his hand. ‘You Mayfair and DeWitt, Austin PD?’ he asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ DeWitt said, dragging out his own badge and ID. He showed it to the detective, who then handed him a set of keys. ‘This one,’ he said, pointing out a key, ‘opens the front door. This one,’ he said, pointing out another, ‘is for the lab, and this one opens the iron gate.’

  ‘Thanks,’ DeWitt said, reaching for the keys.

  The detective held them just out of his reach. ‘I’m parked right over there,’ he said, pointing across the street at the one living thing on the entire block – a scrawny oak tree. ‘Bring the keys back to me.’ And with that he handed DeWitt the keys, did a U-turn, drove up half a block, did another U-turn, and nestled under the shade of the oak tree.

  ‘Hell, he’s not too obvious,’ DeWitt said.

  ‘Maybe he’s just acting as a deterrent, rather than trying to catch someone,’ Mayfair said.

  Mayfair and DeWitt exited their vehicle and stood staring around them. It was deadly quiet. Most, if not all, the buildings on that block were abandoned – boarded up, or just left with broken windows and mounting piles of trash.

  ‘Kinda spooky,’ Mayfair said.

  ‘Wow, you really are a girl,’ DeWitt said as he moved toward the wrought-iron gate. Mayfair raised her leg and caught DeWitt’s leg, making him lose his balance and almost fall, only catching himself at the last minute with a grip on the fence. ‘My daddy always told me to never hit a girl. But you’re pushing my limit, bitch!’

  Mayfair sighed. ‘Do you need extra time, or would it be easier if I used that key instead? I know it takes special skill.’

  DeWitt glared at her and unlocked the wrought-iron fence’s gate.

  There was a knock on the back door and Luna entered the great room where Willis and I were watching Saturday morning cartoons. We got hooked when the kids were little – they got over it, we didn’t.

  ‘Got a minute?’ she asked, sitting on the easy chair as Willis and I were cuddled on the sofa. She said this while simultaneously lifting the TV remote and turning off the new and seriously large flat-screen TV.

  ‘Hey!’ Willis opined.

  ‘Hey is for horses,’ Luna said. Then: ‘Listen! I haven’t told y’all this, didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but Eddie’s being released from Leavenworth.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ I yelled, jumped up and threw my arms around her neck. We didn’t touch much so she initially recoiled, but after a second hugged me back.

  Willis was also on his feet and actually hugged her next. ‘I can’t wait to meet him!’ he said, a big smile on his face.

  Note of explanation: Eddie is Eduardo Luna, Sr., Elena’s husband. While he and Elena were both in the Air Force, and Elena was pregnant with their second child, Eddie had words at a bar with an officer who was being an asshole. The asshole officer pushed Eddie, an enlisted man, and Eddie pushed back. The asshole officer fell down, hit his head and died. Eddie has been in Leavenworth for the past twenty years. Elena and her boys take a two-week vacation every Christmas and drive to Leavenworth, Kansas. I’ve never asked if Leavenworth – the prison – had conjugal visitation. We didn’t talk about things like that. Actually, we very rarely talked about Eddie. I always got the feeling that was somehow not on the table for discussion.

  ‘
Anyway,’ Luna said, shooing us away from her, ‘I’m going to Houston to pick him up. Nearest straight shot from Leavenworth. The government doesn’t pay for plane changes. And anyway, I sort of want the time on the road to, well …’

  ‘Get to know each other again,’ I said.

  ‘Yeah, that.’ She cleared her throat. ‘So, anyway, I got a call a while ago from Detective Mayfair, the female APD?’

  Willis and I both nodded.

  ‘She and her partner are in Houston, initially to see the wife of James Unger, but it turns out she was snatched.’

  ‘No shit?’ Willis said. ‘Who— Our guys?’

  ‘Those guys were awfully busy – kidnapping the wife, then the next day chasing down the husband. Gotta be more people involved. I mean, who’s holding the wife while those two dumbasses were here?’ Luna said. ‘So Mr Brown is working for somebody probably. Anyway, since Eddie’s coming in on Tuesday, I thought I’d hop on over to Houston tomorrow. Thought you might want to tag along, E.J.’

  I was more than ready. My whole body wanted to see this through. But I took a second to look at my husband. ‘Hell, yeah, we’ll come!’ Willis said. ‘Come on, Eeg, we’ve come this far with these guys, we need to see it through!’

  ‘Willis Jerome Pugh!’ I said, letting out the dreaded middle name he so abhorred. ‘Are you actually encouraging me to get involved?’

  ‘Sure. As long as I’m there with you – EVERY STEP OF THE WAY,’ he said, emphasizing the last part with both his voice and his evil eye.

  ‘But the kids – we can’t leave Romeo and Juliet alone—’

  ‘Really, Mom? Really?’ came from behind me. ‘Romeo and Juliet? Isn’t that rather a cliché?’

  ‘Oh, hey, Graham,’ I said, ears, face, and neck burning. ‘Didn’t know you were there.’

  ‘Obviously,’ my son said.

  Behind him someone giggled. Alicia peeked around. ‘Don’t worry, Mom. Y’all can go.’

  ‘We were coming down to talk to y’all when we heard your conversation. And, truthfully, Mom, I’m kind of surprised you’re not already in Houston hunting them down. But, here’s the thing. Someone, and I’m not naming names – but she’s short and her name starts with a “B” and ends with an “ess”, suggested to me last night that I go back to school and finish the semester, so that y’all won’t lose all the money you’ve already spent, and so that there can be a cooling off period for the whole family. Things have gotten out of hand, and I’m man enough to admit that some of that has been my fault—’

  ‘Some of it?’ Willis said sarcastically.

  Graham ignored him. ‘So I’m leaving tomorrow. I’ll go before y’all leave and you can call Megan at any point to make sure I didn’t turn around and come back – y’all know she’ll spill her guts first chance she gets. How does that sound?’

  I got up and hugged my son, then my daug— no, then Alicia. Can’t call her my daughter anymore. It would just be too weird. ‘That’s a wise decision,’ I told him. To Alicia, I said, ‘Are you down with this, honey?’

  She nodded. ‘At first I wasn’t, but it’s the only thing that makes sense.’ She smiled up at Graham, and for the first time since taking her into our home, I noticed she was absolutely beautiful. ‘But he’ll be home weekends,’ she said.

  OK, then, I thought. No more sex on the weekends.

  ‘So what are we supposed to do now?’ Mr Jones asked Mr Brown when they were alone in the kitchen.

  ‘Don’t even speak to me!’ he snarled.

  ‘Hey! You were poking me in the chest! And you got a fingernail on you! It hurt. I got a scratch!’ Mr Jones said in his own defense.

  ‘A scratch? You got a fucking scratch?’ He held up his broken digit. ‘This is not a scratch! You broke my fucking finger!’

  Mr Jones smiled at Mr Brown. ‘Next time, don’t poke me, ’k?’

  ‘I don’t know why Mr Smith just shot you in the foot! He should have shot you in the head! At the very least, in the nuts!’ Mr Brown said.

  Mr Jones shook his head. ‘Don’t you even mention Mr Smith. You killed him! You’re not allowed to utter his name!’

  ‘I’m not allowed? By who? You the name-calling police, fuckface? Mr Smith, Mr Smith, Mr Smith—’

  Although not completely done with his breakfast – there were rashers of bacon left on the serving plate, half a biscuit on his own plate, and some fruit he hadn’t even started on yet – Mr Jones got up and left the room.

  He was wandering the halls of the big house, peeking into rooms, when he unfortunately peeked into the one containing Mr Big, his henchman and the crying lady.

  ‘I don’t want to hurt you, Elizabeth,’ Mr Big was saying, ‘or rather, have Misha hurt you.’ A nod of his head indicated the henchman. ‘But I will. You and your husband made a deal with me. Then your husband said no, after all the money I gave you for your research. Isn’t that true?’

  The crying woman, Elizabeth, said nothing. ‘You owe me, Elizabeth,’ he said softly.

  ‘I’ll pay you back, I promise,’ she said, looking at her hands in her lap.

  ‘Yes, you will. I have set up a very nice lab for you downstairs – better than the lab you and James had. Much better. And look!’ he said, spreading his arms wide. ‘The location is so much better, don’t you think? And no commute. Well, only from your bedroom to the basement!’ Mr Big laughed.

  ‘I won’t make those pills!’ Elizabeth said, raising her head and staring at Mr Big. ‘You can’t make me!’

  Mr Big barely moved his head, but Mr Jones saw it. And so did Misha. The big brute walked over to the woman, grabbed her hand and, taking a pair of pliers out of his pocket, yanked off the fingernail of her pinky finger.

  Elizabeth screamed and so did Mr Jones.

  Mr Big jumped up. ‘Aw, Mr Jones, so nice of you to join us.’

  ‘Hey, now, y’all don’t do that to her! Stop!’ Mr Jones said, coming into the room.

  ‘Oh, we have, Mr Jones. We have stopped. Elizabeth?’ he said, turning to the woman, who was again crying and holding her left hand in her right as blood dripped on the floor. ‘Misha, please clean that up. Elizabeth? I asked you a question. Have we stopped? We could of course, go on. There is so much further we could go. Nine more fingers, ten toes—’

  ‘Hey, Mr Big, I didn’t sign up for torture—’

  Mr Big took Mr Jones by his beefy arm and led him to the door. ‘Of course you didn’t, Mr Jones. And no one is asking you to torture anyone. That’s just silly. Please send in Mr Brown,’ Mr Big said as he pushed Mr Jones out the door and shut it behind him.

  Having lived for thirty-odd years without an original thought, Mr Jones did as he was told and went to the kitchen, telling Mr Brown that Mr Big wanted him. Mr Brown left and Mr Jones sat back down at the kitchen table, idly eating the remaining food on the table – fruit last, of course. But thoughts did begin to swirl around in his head. He thought about the brown-haired girl, Alicia, and the old man. How he’d tried to save them, and maybe he had. Then he remembered: before the girl and the old man had knocked him out, he and Alicia had put each other’s cell phone numbers in each other’s phones. He took his out of his pocket and looked. Sure enough, there it was: Alicia Brooks.

  ‘Hey, asshole,’ said Mr Brown from the doorway. ‘We’ve got an assignment. Get your ass in gear.’

  Mr Jones put away his phone – for now.

  TWELVE

  SATURDAY

  Mayfair caught the cast-iron gate just before the heavy hinge slammed it shut, and followed her sulking partner to the front door. He used the key to open that door and they found themselves in a small reception area with a heavy door directly behind a reception desk. They went to the door and used the last key to open it. Inside was the lab, about a thousand square feet of nothing but machines and test tubes. Two desks were at the front of the room, near the entrance door, and were turned parallel to the door, facing each other. Each had a name plate saying ‘Dr Unger,’ but one was pink and one was blue. A
joke, Mayfair thought. She sat down at the pink desk, while DeWitt took the blue desk, and they began to rummage through what was left. They figured the Houston police, and possibly the perps, had already done most of the rummaging, leaving little of any interest behind. There were no computers on either desk, so Mayfair assumed the HPD had already rescued them. She’d ask, but it was a given.

  Giving up on the desk, Mayfair walked around the different stations, noting subtle differences – one had one kind of machine, along with test tubes and other crap, including binders, and the next another kind of machine, along with its paraphernalia. She checked out the first binder and found it full of numbers and symbols that meant nothing to her. But possibly would to another scientist? Why didn’t the HPD take this with them? She put the binder under her arm and went on to other stations. Each had a binder – some were empty, and some had pages filled with the same kind of numbers and symbols. She gathered up the binders with writing in them, and left the empty ones.

  ‘Why not take ’em all?’ DeWitt asked her upon seeing her bounty.

  ‘Because these have been written in and the others haven’t,’ she said, enunciating clearly as one would to a child.

  ‘Fuck you,’ DeWitt said. ‘What’s in ’em?’

  ‘Stuff,’ Mayfair said.

  ‘I’ll stuff you in a test tube, Mayfair! Give!’

  Mayfair opened one of the books to let him see. ‘So, what does it say?’ she asked.

  ‘Well, this is the symbol for aluminite, and this symbol means gestation,’ he said.

  Wide-eyed, Mayfair said, ‘Are you shitting me? You can read this?’

  DeWitt laughed. ‘Naw, just having some fun at your expense. I have no idea what it means.’

  ‘Jesus, you’re a shit,’ Mayfair said, and headed back the way they had come.

  ‘Don’t leave on my account,’ DeWitt said, still laughing. ‘Just leave!’ Which cracked him up even more. By the time he got outside, their unmarked sedan was gone and his partner with it.

  SATURDAY

  VERA’S STORY