The Mentor

by Rebecca Forster

  Sleep noises, phantom sounds exploding in an overloaded brain, that’s what she’d heard, and it had scared her half to death. She heard those noises in the night for months when she was first orphaned, now they came again like the slamming of a coffin lid to remind her someone else she loved was gone and that sleep was not an option. It was time for her to go.

  It took five minutes to gather her things and straighten her desk; another five in the ladies’ room where she splashed her face with cold water and considered the day. It hadn’t started well with Abram and had ended worse. Allan not only ignored her first two calls but was angry with her third. He accused her of being obsessed and spiteful toward the FBI. Neither of which was true. Lauren knew the agency was doing its job; it just wasn’t doing its job fast enough. Then her contact at the LAPD had asked what was going on with Allan because an FBI agent was nosing around. Eli was still stirring up trouble, damn him.

  Another duck into the sink, and another splash of water and she was just awake enough to walk down the hall and take the elevator to the hot garage. Lauren’s heels clicked on the concrete, but the tune lacked its usual verve. Her thoughts were more a ball of mush than laser points of light and she liked it that way. Exhaustion forced the mind to rest but exhaustion also made her inattentive, and Lauren was a beat late noticing that something wasn’t right. She was almost to her car when someone moved. That someone was extraordinarily near. Close and silent. Invisible. Just a sense, a flash, a stirring of the air. A breath on the back of her neck. Where? Where? There. Under her car? Crouching by it? Yes, he was by it. Rising, rising, rising until he stood. A man. A boy.

  “Oh God.” Lauren dropped her briefcase. Her knees buckled before she could move. Lauren reached for the car while Henry Stewart stepped back again and then again. Lauren’s eyes went up, down, she saw more of him, then all of him. He was dirty, as if he’d been rolling on the ground. Perhaps he had been working under her car. Two more steps and he crashed into the piling behind him, never taking his eyes off her. Henry Stewart faced off with Lauren Kingsley and she was terrified. But, then, so was he.

  In the tomb like silence they breathed out hard and back in with equal exertion. Lauren’s stricken face was mirrored in the boy’s saucer eyes. Yes, boy. She forced herself to think of him that way because, if she was wrong, she was dead. Since she was still standing, since his hand hadn’t been raised to her, she must be right about that. Except there was something happening here that could be her undoing if she didn’t attend to the possibility; something that would be the death of her yet.

  “What?” she whispered. He breathed back, unable to answer.

  Lauren took a step, then two. He pushed back into the unforgiving concrete then froze again as Lauren scoped the length of her car. Lauren started to bend at the waist, her eyes flickering to the chassis and back to keep an eye on him.

  “There’s nothing there,” he whispered. Lauren froze at the sound of his voice. Her stomach turned.

  It would be a gun then. He wore no jacket and she could see there was no gun. There was no knife. Did it matter? He could have killed her with a word, her fear was so great. Thankfully, her mind was still working. Slowly Lauren got to one knee and took a chance. She looked under her car instead of at him.

  “There’s nothing there,” he said again, taking a baby step forward as if to show her. His arms were wrapped around himself. Henry seemed to be freezing. “I don’t have a bomb. I don’t want to ever see a bomb again.”

  Carefully Lauren got up, hand over hand on the side of the car to steady herself. He hadn’t lied and now she could see how he had changed. His once-handsome face was haggard. There were deep circles under his eyes; his skin was red and swollen from the acne that ran across it.

  “What do you want?” Lauren was finding more words in each passing minute. She used them as best she could.

  “I wanted to see you.” One arm unwrapped, he pointed to her hesitantly as if to remind her who she was.

  “How did you know I’d be here?”

  “My dad knows all about you.” They danced again. Henry one step forward; Lauren mirroring him with one step back. Henry seemed to understand so he stayed still. “My dad taught me everything I know. He taught me how to make a bomb. He taught me how to listen to conversations when nobody thinks you’re paying attention,” Henry sighed. “Now he tells my mother things and she tells everyone in our cell what to do. We have charts and schedules about people. About you.”

  Lauren’s eyes fluttered shut. It felt funny to hear him say that. She and Edie had wondered if there were enough of them to watch and plan. Now she knew. The other thing Lauren knew was that it only took one to kill. Henry read her mind.

  “Just because there isn’t a bomb, it doesn’t mean I can’t hurt you. I could kill you now.” His voice shook with the threat, but Lauren took him seriously. She would die alone like Wilson, like her mother. People would come to lament her passing and forget her within weeks. Even Allan wouldn’t mourn the way Lauren would hope. She wouldn’t be a pest if she was dead.

  “You don’t want any more killing on your hands, Henry. How many is it now? How many are you going to take the fall for? Two people in the bombing, Judge Caufeld...”

  “No. No. That’s what I came to tell you. I didn’t do anything to that judge.” Henry’s eyes grew fat with tears. His hands fell away and wiggled at his side as if he could throw off the accusations that were somehow stuck to him. Either Henry was panicked or an extremely good liar.

  “You sent a letter telling him that you would kill him. But you didn’t have the guts to sign it,” Lauren insisted quickly, giving him no time to gain his footing.

  “It could have been anyone who sent that letter.” Lauren would have laughed at his amateurishness if this hadn’t been so frightening.

  “But they have fingerprints, Henry, and that letter was never made public. How did you know about it?” She bluffed and he bought it.

  “They made me send the letter. Paul said I had to do it. I didn’t even write it. They didn’t like my ideas. But they said if we sent that letter then the judge would back off my dad. I didn’t think it would do any good. My dad’s the smartest person in the group and I told them he wouldn’t.”

  “That’s got to be tough when no one listens. You were right.”

  “So you believe I didn’t do it? I swear I didn’t.”

  “Even if you didn’t, the fact of the matter is he’s dead, Henry. Tell me who did it before they come after me or Ms. Williams or anyone else. Henry, you’re in enough trouble, don’t make it worse.”

  “God, don’t you think I know I’m in trouble? I just tried to do what my dad wanted but look what happened. I didn’t think anybody would be hurt.” He wailed and he wrung his hands. That’s when Lauren snapped.

  “For God’s sake, are you brain dead? You detonated 500 pounds of explosive material and you didn’t think anyone would be hurt?” Henry stiffened and made to bolt, this young man who no one listened to. He was going. She held out her hands and talked fast, damning her big mouth.

  “Okay. Sorry. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. I know you didn’t set out to kill that man and woman, but Judge Caufeld was different. That was premeditated, coldblooded murder and that can send you to the electric chair ten times over, Henry.”

  “Go ahead and send me. Nobody will care if I get executed. I figured out there isn’t much I can do about anything now except tell you how sorry I am. I know that judge cared. I appreciated that, so I wanted you to know, Ms. Kingsley, I didn’t do it. I didn’t kill him and neither did the people I know. I just don’t think you should be looking at me, Ms. Kingsley.”

  Startled by his respectful tone, Lauren dropped back, bringing her hands in front of her, surprised to find she still held her purse. Slowly, she slipped the strap from her shoulder and let it drop. Henry’s eyes went to it. Both knew what that soft thud meant. She had no weapon either.

  “What do you mean I shouldn’t be lo
oking at you?” Lauren spoke soothingly, trying to refocus him. “Henry? Look at me.” He shook his head and finally looked away from her purse.

  “I mean, it’s somebody else that killed the judge. I was there, I won’t lie about that. I was supposed to shoot him, but just to scare him. My dad wanted everyone to be scared so that they would know we weren’t kidding about anything, but he didn’t want him dead. It was like a campaign. The letter was first then we were going to shoot at him and then maybe wound him just to keep everyone scared.”

  “So you did see him that night?” Lauren asked.

  “Yeah, I saw him. Paul and some other guy drove me to his house. But when we were coming down the street there were two other cars parked on the street. We figured it was the FBI so Paul slowed down when all of a sudden the judge comes driving out of his garage. We were all scared, but Paul was really scared so he high-tailed it out of there. He made some stupid excuse because he wants us all to think he’s just like my dad. If he was my dad, we would have followed Mr. Caufeld. But we didn’t, and I didn’t kill him.”

  “How do I know you’re telling me the truth?”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?” he asked plaintively. “I didn’t fire that gun they gave me. It was a thirty-eight if that helps you check. We stopped and had a burger. There are people there who saw Paul. I brought a picture. Here.”

  He held it out to her. The photo shook along with his hand. Lauren hesitated only a moment then stepped forward and took it.

  “He looks like a used-car salesman,” Lauren muttered.

  “He is,” Henry laughed shyly. Lauren couldn’t help but smile.

  “Okay, you drove away. Then what?” Lauren asked.

  “We went and had a burger. A place on Santa Monica Boulevard heading to the freeway. Jack in the Box.”

  “What time?”

  “About seven-forty. We ordered three burgers and three Cokes and three fries. You can check it, Ms. Kingsley. Please check it. We sat in a booth near the bathroom.” His voice caught. Lauren looked closer as he swiped at his eyes. He was tired and he was crying. “I just don’t want this to go on anymore. I don’t believe all the stuff my dad says, but he’s my dad so I try really hard to believe. I don’t want my mom to do anything that could put her in jail, too. I just want things to be right. Do you see? Do you understand when it’s your parents? You’ve got to at least try to believe because they’re supposed to show you the way.”

  Lauren nodded. “Yes, I really do, Henry. But it doesn’t change the fact that you were involved in the bombing.”

  He hung his head. “I know. I know, and don’t you think it keeps me up at night. Those people are dead, and I pray to God he’ll forgive me for that.”

  “You’ve already made a start by talking to me, Henry. I could make sure that you’re protected. You plead to a lesser charge and I promise the U.S. Attorney will accept it if the information you give us is good.”

  “I’ll be talking against my dad,” Henry said. He touched his face and winced, as if George had reached from behind his bars and slapped him for his insolence. The acne had flared to open sores. “I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.” Henry sighed and looked around the garage. Lauren did the same. This place was more hospitable than any jail he would be going to and that was a pity. “All I really wanted was to make my dad proud. I don’t know how to do that, and I don’t know who’ll tell me the truth about whether it’s worth it to try.”

  “That must be lonely,” Lauren said, understanding this young man’s dilemma, recognizing her own in it. Henry relaxed, talking to her like a friend now.

  “It is. My mom believes in everything my dad does. I can’t talk to her. I tried, but she’s getting worse now that my dad’s in jail.”

  “Aren’t there other young people like you in your organization? Maybe there’s someone who feels the same way you do, and you just don’t know it.”

  Henry shook his head, so despondent Lauren thought he might just slide down that piling onto the concrete and never get up.

  “Naw. Nobody. Except one guy. Nick, maybe. He lives a couple of doors down. I think he figured out how I felt. He’s quiet, but he would look at me, or kind of pat my back, like he knew. But he couldn’t say anything. None of us really can.”

  “I’m sure he did. Nick Cheshire’s a good guy,” Lauren agreed caught up in the flow of the conversation. Then Henry raised his head. She saw the look in his eye, and Lauren knew she’d made a terrible mistake.

  “You know Nick? How do you know, Nick?” Henry asked quietly. His hands were open, palms backward on the concrete piling. His fingers twitched. She had stepped on the frozen lake of his desire to do what was right and her weight proved too much. The ice spider webbed with cracks and disillusionment was in the stagnant water below. Henry was going in for a dunk.

  Lauren back pedaled, calling up all her reserves of confident persuasion. If he fell back into that state of despair, she could move him in the direction she wanted.

  “I only know what our investigators have told me. We have files on everyone, too, Henry. You know that. That’s what we do in an investigation. Collect information. We have so many more investigators. We have so much more than you do.”

  “You said he was a nice guy. You said that.” Henry pushed himself away from the wall, fighting her every step. He had begun to think for himself and the road that opened up was the wrong one. He charged down it. “How would you know? Why would you think any of us were nice unless you knew someone before they were one of us? You want to put us all in jail. You want to send my dad and me to the electric chair. Why would you think any of us are nice?”

  “I don’t know Nick Cheshire. It’s just the information we have on him...”

  Henry kicked the side of her car and the sound was deafening. Lauren’s hands flew up and covered her ears. Through her not-quite-closed eyes she saw his foot kick again. Her purse took flight and Lauren went down. Henry was on her, pulling on her arms until he had her wrists down by her side and Lauren cocked at a defenseless angle.

  “Nick’s a plant! He’s one of you, isn’t he? He put my dad in jail. He’d put my mom there, too. He’s one of you?” Henry’s Adam’s apple mined his throat as if trying to run from the flood of emotion that washed up from his gut. “I thought you...I didn’t want you to get hurt...thought I could talk to you. Damn it.” He pulled her wrist to the side and down. Lauren grunted. “Nick is just like you! Just like you! And I was trying to help. I felt sorry because that judge died. I’m as dumb as my dad thinks.”

  “No, Henry.” Lauren said though the words were hard to understand through her panting. “You’re not. You’re smart to be here and Nick’s not a part of this. I swear,” Lauren’s words slipped through clenched teeth. He was strong and her wrists felt brittle in his grip. He could snap them without thinking. “Think, Henry. Think. Why would he be one of us? Has he ever done anything to make you believe that?”

  Henry laughed, near hysteria now. “He’s never done anything and that’s just what I’m figuring out now. He never built the bombs, he never drew the plans, he never asked to drive a truck. He just sits and listens. He looks at me and tells me it will all be okay. Okay.” Henry almost spit the word. “That’s what he always said. So, what’s okay? My mom and dad and me in prison? The government taking away our house because my dad didn’t pay taxes so welfare people could get his money? Is that what Nick meant?” Henry pulled her tight against him and Lauren pulled back. It was no use. “I don’t think that’s okay, Ms. Kingsley. I think maybe my dad was right and I just wasn’t learning my lessons the right way,” Henry’s teeth were bared now. Lauren had no choice but to kneel as he twisted her wrists.

  “Henry, listen to me. Remember why you came here. Judge Caufeld did the right thing. You felt bad when you heard he was dead... Aaah,” Lauren clamped her mouth shut. Henry was down on one knee beside her.

  “I came because I didn’t want anyone else to get hurt. Not you and not my mom and not an
yone.” He seethed, he raged with anger. Lauren turned her head away.

  “But someone’s already been hurt.” She talked fast. Tears were coming to her eyes but her life depended on what came out of her mouth now. “Nick’s been hurt. Yes, really. Nick’s in a hospital almost dead. People you know did that to him. They aren’t sure he’s going to live, and he was just doing his job. Just like Judge Caufeld.”

  “Shut up. I don’t care anymore.”

  “Yes, you do. You wanted me to know the truth, Henry, and that’s why you came here. Nick was working for the truth. Judge Caufeld was working...”

  He twisted hard and Lauren was silent except for a squeal of pain. “So you find out the truth by lying? That’s crazy. One thing my dad never did was lie. Is there anybody on your side that doesn’t lie?”

  “Hey! Hey! What’s going on?”

  Henry fell back, taking Lauren with him. Still holding one wrist, they scrambled behind her car. He pulled her close as he put his back against the right front tire.

  “The security guard,” Lauren whispered. “He’s going to find us.”

  Henry stayed silent. He turned his head one way then the other. Lauren did the same. Neither could tell which direction the guard was coming from.

  “I’ll take you with me,” Henry growled.

  “Everyone’s already looking for you. If you try to take me with you, there won’t be anywhere to hide.” Lauren sat up and twisted away from him. Henry was too preoccupied to fight. The guard was coming closer, looking under cars, making his way up the ramp, not down. The lot wasn’t full at this time of night and he would be on top of them soon. There wasn’t much time. Lauren knew she should call out. Instead, she whispered frantically. “Look, this was the right thing. I believe you about not killing Judge Caufeld. No one can tell you how you need to live your life. Don’t think about what other people want, think about what you want. Think who’s been hurting people. It’s not us. We’re not the ones beating people up or blowing them up.”