Chapter 14
At the bottom of a long, carpet-covered staircase was a storage room for brooms, mops and paper towels. The right hand wall of the closet was covered with a peg-board and hooks. Behind one of the peg holes was a camera which scanned your cornea for a finger print. If you had the right credentials, the wall slid to the right. This put you in the basement. It was a rectangular room, dimly lit, damp and cool, with low ceilings. It would have been pitch dark if not for the light emanating from two desktop computers. Their backsides greeted you as soon as you took three steps into the room. The computers sat atop basic, simple desks, much like the kind at the display areas at Office Supply stores. Not a single personal item was visible. If you walked around the clinical desks, you would see that each monitor sported it’s own screen-saver. One had a slide show of nighttime city images that changed after 3 seconds. Paris, Rome, Heidelberg, Helsinki. Madrid. The other one had multi-colored bubbles that bounced around on top of a black background- it looked like someone was taking a bubble-bath in the dark.
At the far end of the room hung four flat screen monitors. The extra-large kind. 55 inches wide. In the back corner was an old, white porcelain faucet, attached directly to the cinder-brick wall. The sink leaned towards the floor giving the illusion that the floor was not straight. In the very corner, beside the old sink was a broken school desk. The top laid next to it on the floor waiting for someone to come along with a screw-driver and put it back together, which was never going to happen. Facing the sink, on the opposite wall, was a tired-looking green loveseat with a small blanket and pillow rolled up on one end. In the middle of the room there was a low black counter that looked like it had been discarded from a high school science lab about twenty years ago. The chrome hardware on a single sink in the middle of the counter was out-dated and slightly rusted. Hanging overhead, suspended by a black cord, was a single 60 watt light bulb.
A 40-something woman was perched on a bar-stool at the old counter. She sipped a MacDonald’s iced-coffee out of a straw. The counter was scattered with fast-food bags, napkins and cups. (It looked as if the past 4 or 5 meals had been consumed from those bags.) The woman held a cell phone, touched the screen, sighed, and pushed her blue-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose till they tapped her dark eye-brows. Her loose hanging, droopy blonde, pony-tail told the world she’d been at work too long.
Behind her a young man with short, jet black, curly hair and light brown skin, sat in front of a lap-top computer at a small office cubicle. He mumbled something that sounded like a mixed up alphabet. Then he grunted and rubbed his chin.
“Hey, would you pass me those fries?” He said, without diverting his eyes from the screen.
“Sure.” The woman passed the bag without looking up from her cell phone. The bag grazed the top of his head before he grabbed it.
“Watch the hair! I’ve got a date later on.”
“Sorry 58.” She continued tapping into her cell phone with her index finger. “Who’s the lucky lady?”
“That Russian beauty. She keeps texting me.”
“The rough one?”
“Uh huh.” He said, while patting the top of his head. The curls didn’t change positions, but it made him feel better. “She says she’s scared. Having nightmares again like last year, and just wants someone to sleep on her sofa.”
“So, make sure you hide the duct-tape this time.”
“I know, right?” He rocked back in his chair and then leaned closer to the screen.”She still says she was sleepwalking.” He paused for a second. “Dang it!”
“Did you get shot?”
“Yep. I can’t figure out how to get past these guys.” He slung the mouse to the side, clasped his fingers over the top of his head, closed his eyes, and leaned back in the worn out office chair. His demeanor seemed to sink into a dark place, as if he really had been defeated by a very large enemy.
“Well, with the Russian’s history, I would sleep with my briefcase right next to me. That is, if you plan to go play ‘security’ for her. It could be just a game she’s playing.” The lady said, while crossing and re-crossing her legs, then using her toes to pull off her pumps where they fell to the floor. “Some people really like duct-tape. A girl at last year’s prom made her entire dress out of camo duct tape.”
A red light, in the middle of the four monitors hanging on the wall, just a few feet from them, flashed 3 times in unison with a high-pitched repeating signal.
58 spun in his chair, hopped up and stood next to the lower right monitor. A female face appeared on the screen. She looked down at some papers and adjusted her blue jacket by unbuttoning it. Her nearly white hair was pulled tightly away from her face and a single blue and gold pin decorated her white collar. Her pink lips looked like they belonged to another woman, a younger woman. “Good evening agents. We have some new information. Wesley’s sister is missing. The local police are headed to the scene.”
“Oh my god.” The woman said in a whisper as she spun around and hopped off her stool. She leapt towards the monitor and stood beside 58. She stuck her hands in her pockets and turned her phone over and over inside her right pocket as she rocked from side to side.
“Does Wesley know?” 38 asked.
“Yes, his mother just sent him a text.” The monitor woman said.
“Where do you need us?” 58 stated, with no emotion.
“Just sit tight. We’ll let you know if we need you.” The screen went black.
58 turned away rubbing his head. “Oh, this is bad. This is real bad.” He walked around the counter shaking his head and wiping his hands on his thighs. “It’s my fault. What have I done, 38?”
“No, this is not your fault. Why do you say that?” 38 walked over to him, put her hand on his shoulder and patted it a few times.
“I recruited him.” His head hung down and he rubbed his eyes. He felt a shrinking feeling come over him, like he was completely inadequate to do anything in this life. He reached inside his pocket, pulled a worn out handkerchief and wiped his nose on it.
“Yes, you did recruit him. But he made the choice to do this. He understood the risks, just like you did when you signed up. Do NOT blame yourself.”
“But I was 24. He’s only 16.”
“But he’s already lived through things that some people never survive. Remember his maturity level. He scored a 99% on the eval. He can handle this.”
“But I don’t know if I can handle it!” 58 said, walking around the old lab table, while keeping his hand on it, like he was playing musical chairs and didn’t want to be caught without a place to sit down.
“You can. Let’s look at the facts. This agency has the best stats on missing children. They find them all.”
58 walked over to the counter and grabbed one of the 5 cups that sat amongst the collection. He took a sip. His face twisted as he swallowed. “What is this?” He asked as he pulled off the lid to peer inside.
Agent 38 chuckled. “That’s last week’s milkshake.”
“I hope its not toxic.”
“Here’s some water.” She walked over to a half-sized refrigerator underneath the counter and grabbed a bottle of Evian. “Why don’t you text Wesley and reassure him?” She handed 58 the bottle and climbed up on her stool.
“How am I supposed to do that? What could I say? ‘We know your dear 4 year-old sister is missing and we hope we catch the son’s of bitches that have her. And we hope she’s alive when we find her?’” 58 began looking inside the fast food bags, one at a time, then crumpling them into a very tight ball and tossing them over the lab table into the small trash can beside the sliding panel wall.
“Keep it simple and positive. You know. Just think about it. What would you want to hear if you were in his shoes?” She crossed her legs and sipped on her iced-coffee.
“Okay. How about this, ‘Don’t panic, we have a team working on this. It’s gonna be okay. We’ll find her.’” He tossed the final wadded up fastfood bag into the air and it landed inside the can.
“That’s perfect!” 38 said.
“Yea, that was a good shot.”
“No, I meant the message you suggested. It sounds comforting, and certain. That’s what a young man needs to hear.” She said, while grabbing a brown paper towel, wetting it with the water from the old faucet barely holding on to the wall, and wiping off the counter.
58 sat down in his chair and typed in the message.
38 climbed back into her stool, reached inside her purse, pulled out a small notepad and began scribbling.
“What are you doing 38?”
“Writing a note to The Big Guy.”
“Our boss?”
“Yea. The Big Big boss.” She said, while pointing up to the ceiling.
You really think he hears you?”
“I know He does.” She continued writing then handed him the pad. “Here. why don’t you read it? It’s not a secret.”
“Please cover Eve with an army of angels. Wrap the bad guys in duct tape. Now, please.
“Hmmm. So, you are telling The Big Guy what to do? That just seems a bit arrogant.”
“No, I am telling him what I want. Kids are supposed to tell their parents what they want. Doesn’t mean they’ll get it, but it shows the parent what’s really inside their kid’s heart.”
He shook his head, handed her back the notebook and sat back down in his spot, and tried to re-focused on his war game.
The small clean up of the counter inspired 38 to clean out her purse. She lined up old receipts, a used tissue, a stray tube of lipstick, a pair of socks, a calculator, several purple pens and two blue marbles. She could not remember why she had a pair of socks in her purse, but felt certain that the reason would surface and she’d give herself permission to act very smug when that moment arrived.
The red light on the wall lit up but no alarm sounded. They both stood in front of the wall monitor waiting to hear the news. 38’s palms were sweating and her heart raced. She felt a wave of nausea come blasting through her and she covered her mouth with her hand. Although she was standing in her stocking feet on a cold cement floor, her whole body felt hot, especially her feet. 58 put both hands in his pockets and stood like a Greek statue. The only muscles moving were in his jaw as he clenched his teeth.
