A Sense of Justice

by Jack Davis

  PJ’s attitude about the conversation shifted.

  “Earlier this year Esther had to enroll Mary in a ‘regular’ school since her husband Robert passed away. She couldn’t afford the private school anymore. Luckily the public high school where they live has a program for students like Mary.

  “Last week Esther got a call from Mary’s teacher asking for a same-day meeting. The teacher said Mary asked her how babies are made. The teacher told Mary that was something she needed to ask her mother but thought Esther should know ahead of time.”

  Now PJ was sure he didn’t like where this was headed.

  “Esther had a talk with Mary. Poor dear got so upset she ran to her room and wouldn’t come out for hours. When she finally did calm down, she told Esther that some boy or boys, I’m not even sure, did ‘some of those things’ to her after school.”

  PJ clenched his teeth and ran a hand through his hair.

  “I didn’t get the whole story, but apparently this, this…” Margaret searched for the right word and landed on, “degenerate, has access to a storage shed where they keep athletic equipment behind the school. He took Mary back there at least once, maybe twice.”

  “Did Esther report this to the police and the school?”

  “No. She doesn’t know what to do. Mary couldn’t handle this getting out. If Esther went to the school or police, she thinks everyone would eventually find out. Mary turned eighteen last month and Esther isn’t sure if because she’s not a minor anymore, and apparently didn’t resist, or report it right away, it would be used against her.” Margaret looked at PJ, and choking back a sob, said, “Little Mary couldn’t bear a trial.”

  PJ scrolled through the potential charges and legal issues in his mind.

  His mother sniffled as she continued, “Esther’s also worried this degenerate might have taken pictures. She says they can do that with phones these days. She thinks he might use them to sort of blackmail Mary. If they get on the computer internet Mary will be devastated. And I don’t know what Esther will do.”

  PJ’s mind moved away from legal issues and started outlining a plan. “Mom, is there some reason you and I are going out there today? Was something supposed to happen this afternoon?”

  “Today is the first school day since Mary told Esther, and she’s afraid the pervert might try something again today after classes.”

  PJ inhaled deeply. “This is a long shot, but I’ll go out there. If this punk shows up, I’ll have a talk with him and explain things in no uncertain terms. If he’s not there, I’ll find him and put a stop to this. I need to look up some statutes too.” He smiled reassuringly before adding, “I can’t have you with me for the talk today. Let’s find a subway stop and send you back to Jersey.

  “Mom, don’t talk to anyone about this, even Esther, until I call you later. As far as she knows, your recommendation is still to talk to the police. If something were to go wrong…”

  “What could go wrong?”

  “Nothing’s gonna go wrong, but just in case, as far as anyone will ever know, you mentioned this to me on the phone and don’t know what happened from there. Okay?” To emphasize the point, he added, “Sean needs you.”

  PJ hoped his loving smile gave his mother the reassurance she needed. She nodded as he kissed her on the forehead.

  PJ started to execute his plan even before dropping off his mother. He typed a message on his phone, en route FBI for class. brief. In SCIF till 1700 or later, PJ. He showed his mother how to send the message and told her to do it when her subway car went through Manhattan. He explained how to take out the phone’s battery and told her to do that after sending the message.

  Next, he identified a covered parking lot where he could borrow license plates after he dropped off his mother.

  He reached the school shortly before 1430 hours. In two quick passes around the grounds, he identified two buildings near the track as possible locations. Both were remote and not used this time of year. He picked a parking spot where he could observe both, reclined his seat, and waited.

  It was around 1510 hours when PJ caught sight of a student walking away from the school heading toward the farther of the two out-buildings. He wore a black T-shirt, black jeans, and dark boots. From PJ’s vantage point he looked to be over six feet tall, even with his significant slouch. Estimated weight, about 230 pounds; a good portion of it appeared to be in his belly. PJ couldn’t make out any other significant distinguishing characteristics.

  As PJ exited the car, he saw the individual produce what he assumed was a key and open the door to the shed. A soccer game at the school that afternoon helped PJ blend in. He moved leisurely through the parking lot to the far side of the structure.

  Jeffrey Belsen was looking at his iPhone when he heard the rusty hinges on the door to the shed creak open and close. Assuming he knew who it was, Belsen didn’t look up. He was busy prepping his phone to take video. When he did look up, he was shocked to see a man standing fifteen feet in front of him.

  The stranger was dressed too nicely to be from the school, wearing polished dress shoes, suit pants, and a crisply starched shirt, no tie. Belsen asked the question anyway. “Are you from the school?”

  There was no answer. The man only glared at him.

  “Who are you?” The man didn’t answer. “What are you doing here? This is school property.” Belsen took the stoop out of his shoulders and straightened to his full six-three height, hoping to intimidate the man. “I don’t know who you are, but you better get the hell outta here or I’ll make you regret it.”

  When the stranger finally spoke, Belsen didn’t like what he had to say, “Do you know Mary Lingram?”

  “I don’t know who you are or what she told you, but I never did anything to her she didn’t want.”

  The stranger spoke in an emotionless tone. “You’re going to go to the police and tell them what you did to Mary. You’re also going to give me your phone, and if any pictures of Mary end up on the internet, I’ll cripple you.”

  It might have been fear or confusion, or both, but the part that bothered Belsen most was losing his phone. That was crazy, his phone was a much a part of him as…the hand he held it in. He’d never give it up. He didn’t have time or the intelligence to process the incongruity of the thought; his first response was indignity.

  “Fuck that! If you’re the police show me a badge.” When the man didn’t move, Belsen was emboldened. “Listen asshole, she’s eighteen. I didn’t do anything illegal so why don’t you take your threats and get the fuck outta here!”

  The order had the exact opposite effect Belsen expected. The man locked the door behind him and started forward, rolling up his shirt sleeves as he came. Belsen, shocked, backed up. There was something about the way the stranger moved that bothered him. It was smooth, measured, athletic; it was disconcerting. Belsen continued to retreat. The man came forward without uttering a sound. Glancing back to make sure he wouldn’t trip, Belsen saw salvation and grabbed it. In the next second, he had a two-by-four, swinging it wildly left to right and back again.

  Along with the four-foot piece of lumber, Belsen also found his courage. An evil smile spread across his face. He advanced.

  “Not so tough, are ya now?” With both hands he viciously swung the board in front of him. “No, you’re not so tough now.” Straining, he put all his weight behind another swing. He barely missed the stranger.

  “I warned that chubby retard if she told anyone, I was gonna post shit all over the internet.” There was a swoosh as Belsen once more attempted to hit the man, “I warned her. It’s her own damn fault now.” On the back swing, almost as an afterthought he said, “The whole school will see that little bitch suckin’ my cock.” He laughed; it would be his last for a long time.

  After two complete swipes, which Morley easily eluded, he was sure by the force of the swing the man was right-handed; that was useful. By the third iteration he had it timed. Two decades of martial arts made Morley’s next move painfull
y easy. The instant the board started to move, he ducked under the sweep, stepped inside the arc, planted his left leg, and shot a quick sidekick to the outside of the right knee.

  There was a howl as the hulking figure fell to one knee.

  Enjoy the rest of your life with a torn ACL, you piece of shit.

  With an ease borne of thousands of repetitions against more agile foes than the out-of-shape clod in front of him, Morley slipped behind his prey and wrapped both legs around the larger man’s waist. Using his right hand to pull the head back, he positioned his left elbow in front of the Adam’s apple. The rest was just physiology and pressure. After fifteen seconds without oxygen, the warped brain gave out and the body went limp.

  In what Morley could only attribute to inspiration, demonic or angelic he wouldn’t attempt to guess, he knew his next move. Rolling the unconscious victim on his back, he pushed his target’s feet wide apart. Picking up the two-by-four, Morley stood off the man’s right leg in a golf stance. Three semi-awkward drives later and the man’s testicles had been crushed.

  Jeff Belsen awoke in indescribable pain. He passed out immediately. When he came to again, he curled up in the fetal position and groaned. Through his pain and half-opened eyes, he saw the man sitting in a chair a few feet away. He recoiled in fear as the stranger stood and moved toward him with the board on his shoulder.

  “You need to get to the ER. You’re going to tell them you got in a fight and were kicked in the balls. I’m going to destroy every trace of you online. If I ever have to see you again, you won’t see me.”

  The stranger leaned the piece of wood against the wall at an angle. In one fluid motion he spun, dropped to a knee, and snapped the board in two with a lightning-quick punch.

  The door hinges creaked as it opened and then again as it closed.

  For the next part of Morley’s plan, he needed an alibi witness. With the UN General Assembly in session, three-quarters of the Service was in New York protecting the various world leaders and their spouses. Morley had dozens of friends in town to choose from, any one of whom would lie for him under oath. Most would do more than that if asked.

  It was just after 1700 hours when Morley knocked on room 1165 of the Courtyard Marriot at 54th and Broadway. The peephole darkened, the lock clicked, and the door opened.

  Any thought Morley had of talking vanished the moment he saw his alibi standing in front of him in a black bra and panties. Backlit by the evening autumn sun, she was a vision. All he could do was stare.

  “Oh, it’s you; I thought it was room service.”

  Morley smiled, deepening the dimples in both cheeks. His alibi grabbed his hand and pulled him into the room. Closing the door, he kissed her with a passion that consumed him. She moaned lightly.

  A second later she bit his bottom lip. “I thought you said this was a bad idea.”

  “It is.”

  5 | Dr. Kranston Comes Together

  Endwell, New York, 09/21/09, 1333 hours

  “Good morning, Savannah Answering. Michelle speaking. How can I help you?”

  “Good morning, Michelle. My name is Dr. Peter Kranston. I’m starting up a practice in Savannah and I need an answering service to handle my calls.”

  “You’ve come to the right place. We can help you with all your answering service needs. Now let me get a little more information so we can tailor a plan for you.”

  “Two questions before we go too far. One, I’m still waiting on the phone company for my office number. Can I set up the service and turn it on later this month when I get the number?”

  “Certainly, Doctor. I can get all your other information then we can start the service when you call us with the permanent number.”

  “Very good. Second question, do you take credit cards?”

  Within five minutes of making the call, the last sections of Dr. Peter Kranston’s Excel spreadsheet were marked with an X.

  All of the pre-trip preparation that could be completed had been finished. Cash advances to pay for the airline tickets, rental car, hotel, meals, local cell phone, and incidentals. Incidentals had become a large budget item in the spreadsheet. Duct tape, pliers, knives, blowtorches; these items added up.

  The credit cards needed to confirm the plane ticket, rental car, and hotel had arrived earlier in the week. And the final piece of the puzzle, a Georgia driver’s license, had arrived just three days after hacking into the Georgia DMV database.

  Everything was in place. It was time for Dr. Kranston to come to life.

  6 | The Ice Queen

  New York Field Office, 09/22/09, 0650 hours

  “I should’ve known I’d find you here.”

  “Morning.” Morley acknowledged Assistant Special Agent In Charge (ASAIC) Mallory Kensington without looking at her.

  “Is it always this busy in the morning?” asked Kensington as she moved across the padded floor of the NYFO gym.

  “Yep.” Morley continued his steady rhythm of sit-ups.

  “How many more?” Kensington took a seat on a weight bench.

  “Don’t know,” Morley said at the top of a repetition.

  “How do you not know? How do you know when you’re done?”

  “Got six…minutes left.”

  It took a second for Kensington to understand the answer. “Who does sit-ups for time?”

  Morley didn’t reply.

  “I came to tell you Tommy’s looking for you, says he’s looked everywhere.”

  “Apparently…he doesn’t…know where…the gym is.”

  “Not by the looks of him,” laughed Kensington, “but he said he has to talk immediately.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem,” said Kensington as she stood. Then seeing the pool of sweat surrounding her friend, she cringed. “What a mess. Make sure you clean up after yourself.”

  “I always…do.”

  “You wanted to see me.” A freshly showered Morley stood in ASAIC Thomas Brown’s doorway.

  “Where’ve you been? I’ve been looking all over for you, and I left messages on your phone.” Brown continued to anxiously rifle through the mound of papers littering his desk.

  “Really, where’d you look?” asked Morley knowingly.

  Brown took a sip from his ever-present Diet Pepsi but didn’t look up before answering, “Your office, the lab, the squad area, everywhere.”

  “Funny, when I saw Pencala and Doc they didn’t mention it and they’ve been here since around 0630.” Morley let the statement hang in the air to see if Brown would double-down on his lie.

  Brown didn’t take the bait, “Where’ve you been?”

  “The same place I am every morning at 0600, the gym.”

  Brown dislodged his portly five-foot-nine, two-hundred-and-twenty-pound frame from his seat, continuing to root around in the papers on his desk before apparently finding what he wanted. “Good,” he said in a tone indicating he hadn’t cared what Morley’s answer had been.

  “I need your squad’s end-of-year evals. I have an eight a.m. with the boss and all the 15s, and yours are the only files I don’t have. If you’d gotten back to me earlier instead of spending all day in the gym, I’d have had time to get them from you and review them. Now I’m going into the meeting blind. I’ll do the best I can to make their case, but at this point I can’t promise anything.”

  Morley had learned early on with his supervisor that getting paperwork to him early was problematic. The additional time only allowed Brown to lose the documents in the shifting sea of paper that spread from his desk, to a folding table, and ultimately to the floor. Morley was especially concerned about something as important as the evaluations for his personnel being misplaced. He had taken precautions. “I gave you the evals two weeks ago,” said Morley as he started typing on his phone.

  He saw annoyance on Brown’s face as it reddened more than normal. “I don’t remember getting those from you.”

  Morley’s phone buzzed. He turned toward a credenza against the wall to Bro
wn’s right, walked over, and after a few seconds removed the files in question.

  “I’ve started to use RFID tags on all folders to keep track of files,” explained Morley as he held out the folders.

  Morley saw understanding come across Brown’s face. He’d made the connection between his previous misplaced files excuses and Morley’s new tracking system. “Good ehh…idea.”

  As Brown reached for the papers, Morley pulled them back. “My top three are listed here: Swann, Greere, and Posada.” Morley turned the folder toward Brown showing the Post-it note. “They were phenomenal this past year. They should get great points. Anything you need to know about their cases is in their jacket.”

  Morley could see his ASAIC was taken off guard.

  “PJ, I’ve got two other squads and there are a lot of deserving agents in both. I’ll do my best, but don’t get your hopes up.”

  Morley had to hand it to his boss, he was able to come up with a reasonable excuse with the best of them. Must be all those years of lying.

  Brown’s deceit had allowed him to regain his composure. He added the folders to a pile of two others when a strange look came over his face. “What about Pencala? Where’s she on your list.”

  Morley revulsion was immediate. He knew Brown had no idea who any of the agents in his squad were, with the exception of Pencala, the attractive former college athlete. He also knew why Brown would want to ingratiate himself with the object of so many men’s stolen glances.

  Morley took a deep breath to avoid saying what he was thinking. “She’s fantastic. She’s done great work but she’s behind the three I have listed there in terms of time in the squad and the office.”

  Brown looked down as if considering saying something else. Then, in haste, he grabbed his diet soda and set the folders on top of two pink pastry boxes. With both hands full, he balanced his drink between the folders and his chins.