by Terence West
Turning his attention to his laptop, he unzipped its carrying case and pulled it out. Looking for a good spot to set it up, he decided the table in the corner would be an ideal spot. He plugged it in and began powering it up as he sat it on the table. He reached over to the phone on the table and removed the phone cord. Clicking it into the jack on the laptop, he opened the icon on his screen that gave him access to the Internet. He heard the familiar sounds of the computer dialing the number and logging on to his network. "Let's see if I've got any e-mail." He hated to admit it, but he had become a bit of an e-mail junky. He loved getting mail, no matter whom it was from. Typing in his password, a small gray box popped up. Clicking on the box, he moved into his inbox. "One piece of mail," he muttered to himself.
He clicked the button to open the new mail. There was no return address, or subject line. He was curious now. It read:
Mr. Silver,
For the time I must remain unidentified, but be sure that I am a friend. I have taken an interest in the case you are working on right now. I have facts that you may find very interesting.
She was not raped.
I am sure that you will come to the correct answer for this mystery. That's all I can say for now, but I will contact you again.
Keep digging, Mr. Silver.
Strange, Jake thought to himself. No one that has my e-mail address knows that I'm working on this case.Standing up from the desk, he turned to look out the small window. Not much of a view. All he could see were the dark storm clouds looming over the city.
Chapter 4
The helicopter rested in a mangled heap on the desert floor. Stepping out of the white Jeep Cherokee that he had driven to the crash site, Hunter instructed his men to comb the area for bodies. Eight men dressed in black fatigues split up into two teams of four and began to search. Stepping closer to the wreckage, he immediately saw what looked like the charred remains of one of the choppers crew.
Rubbing his hand across his forehead to wipe off the sweat, Hunter knelt down next to the corpse. Reaching over a piece of metal that had imbedded itself in the man's chest, he lifted the dog tags up to read them. "Lt. Gary Jansen." Dropping the tags in the sand he stood up. "Major Griggs, front and center," Hunter barked.
A tall man dressed in black fatigues emerged from behind the wreckage. Stepping up to Hunter, he saluted. "Yes, Colonel?" Jason Griggs was fairly new to the base. He was a hulking blonde haired man, with broad muscular shoulders. He had been recommended for this detail after he had shown great tactical skills in a battle he had been involved with a few years back.
"Get this man's body wrapped for removal," pointing down to what was left of Jansen. "I want all missiles that were on this bird accounted for and loaded on the truck before we leave."
"Yes, Sir." Griggs saluted again and moved off to fulfill his orders.
Walking away from the wreckage, Hunter adjusted his uniform. Reaching the Jeep, he turned around to watch his men. They were moving in a precise fashion over the wreckage. Letting his eyes wander, he caught sight of something strange. Taking off his sunglasses, he squinted in the bright light to see what looked like an impact crater. "What the hell is that?" Climbing into the Jeep he grabbed the CB receiver off the dash and keyed it on. "Rescue team to base. Rescue team to base."
The CB's speaker crackled to life. "Rescue team, this is base, go ahead." It was the unmistakable voice of General Davis.
"General, this is Hunter. Requesting air support for our location."
"Why do you need air support, Colonel?"
Hunter glanced out the front windshield of the Jeep at the crater. "To locate possible crash site of bogey."
"You mean they brought it down with them?"
"I'm not sure yet, General." Letting go of the send button on the CB, he waited for Davis' reply.
"Request granted. I'll have a chopper out there ASAP."
Hunter looked at the crater. What the hell was that thing? He knew most planes and helicopters, even traveling at maximum speed, would not make a crater this large upon impact. A cold chill ran down his spine.
* * * *
"Mom, I really don't want to do this." Christina stared at the brick facade of her school through the passenger window of her mother's car. Even in the car she could feel the stares of the other kids burning into her. The rain was coming down even harder now. A quick flash of lightning tore through the sky followed by the loud crack of thunder. Unconsciously she realized that she was biting her nails.
"Come on, Honey. You need to go back to school." Her mother leaned over and placed her hand on Christina's shoulder. "It's your senior year. You don't want to miss any more than you have to."
"Yeah, I know, but—"
"No 'buts'. You've got to go. Show everyone how strong you really are."
Turning to her mom, she wrapped her arms around her and gave her a big hug. "You're right, Mom. This is something I've got to do for myself."
"Good girl. I knew you could do it." Her mom smiled brightly at her. She knew her daughter was strong. Christina had been all her life.
Mustering all her confidence, Christina opened the car door and stepped out into the pouring rain. She stared at the building for a moment then turned back. "I'll call if I need anything." Her mother nodded. Shutting the door behind her she began to walk away.
Hearing the window roll down behind her, she paused momentarily. "Christina!"
Turning back to look at the car she saw her mother leaning over to the passenger window. "Yeah, Mom?"
"I love you."
"You too." She stayed and watched as her mom rolled up the car window and drove off.
This is it,she thought to herself, the moment of truth. Walking briskly toward the school, Christina felt a knot of fear well up in her throat as she reached for the door handles. Pushing the doors open she stepped inside.
The halls were crowded and hot. Usually all the students were lounging around the school yard, but since it was raining, most of them had all decide to stay inside. Faces stared at her as she began to walk down the hall. Keeping her gaze straight ahead, she walked slowly and carefully. The crowd seemed to part for her as she moved down the hall. From the crowds of teenagers, she could hear the laughter and some of what they were saying about her.
"She's making it all up. What a liar."
"Little green men came down and had their way with her. What a joke."
"I can't believe she would come back. If I was her I wouldn't."
"She has a lot of nerve showing her face here again."
The words cut her like a knife. Moving quicker now she threw herself at her locker. Hurriedly putting in the combination she opened her locker and removed her books for her first hour class. Out of nowhere a hand landed on her shoulder.
"Seen any aliens lately, Tina?" It was Buzz, the captain of the football team, accompanied by several other members of the football team. They were all laughing at his childish joke. He was of medium height with dark curly hair and brown eyes. Like most other jocks Christina knew, Buzz wore his letterman's jacket like a badge of honor. Any other time Christina would love to talk to him, but she was not in the mood or the right mind.
"Take off, Buzz. I've gotta get to class." She turned to walk away.
Slamming his hand against the locker in front of her, he leaned in close. "I want to know the real story. You didn't see any aliens, did ya, Tina?" His tone was light, but still had an element of animosity in it.
"Buzz, leave me alone, okay? I don't want to talk about it." Turning the other way she began to leave, only to be stopped by one of the other jocks.
"I don't think so, Tina. Either you tell us what really happened or—"
She snapped. "Or what Buzz? You'll kick my ass? You'll spread rumors about me?" She felt a tear roll down her cheek. "What, Buzz? What the fuck are you gonna do to me?"
Just then she heard a familiar voice stand up for her. "Get out of here, Buzz. We don't need that bullshit around here." Libby pushed her w
ay into the group to stand beside Christina. Pushing Buzz hard, she stood toe to toe with him.
"You need to leave Libby. Or you'll regret it."
"Are you gonna hit me Buzz? Are you that tough that you can beat up a girl? Yeah, that'll show everyone!" Libby wasn't moving.
Neither was Buzz. "You dumb bitch." Lifting his hand up he opened his palm to slap her. Libby knew it was coming, but she stood firm. She wasn't giving up her ground. Not for anything.
Out of nowhere a hand reached into the crowd and grabbed Buzz's arm before he had a chance to slap her. "I don't think so, Buzz."
"Who the-?" Spinning around, Buzz found himself standing face to face with Coach Fox.
"What do you think you're doing Buzz? Slapping girls doesn't look good for the team." Coach Fox was a tall man with broad shoulders. His was in his early thirties and rumored to be built like a tank. In addition to being the head of the athletics department at the school, he was also the head coach of the football team.
"Sorry, Coach. I—"
"I don't want to hear it, Buzz." He moved his steely blue eyes over the predicament that had erupted. "Buzz, you get your boys the hell out of here. I don't want to see your sorry faces until practice tonight. Do you understand?"
Buzz nodded. Motioning to his entourage, the group quickly turned to leave. They all knew Coach Fox wouldn't send them to detention, or to the principal. He always had his own brand of justice. They were called wind sprints, and you did them until you puked, or passed out, whichever came first.
Coach Fox turned his attention to Libby and Christina, "and as for you two, get your butts to class."
Christina took a step closer to Coach Fox. "Thanks Coach. I appreciate—"
"Look, I don't care what did or did not happen." His blue eyes remained fixed on Christina, "I was not here to take sides, just keep the peace." He quickly turned and began to walk off all the while shaking his head.
Jumping in front of Christina, Libby shot her a big smile. "Hey girlfriend! How are you? I've been worried about you. You haven't been returning my calls."
Turning, Christina began to walk to class. "I know, Libby. I'm sorry."
"That's it? 'I'm sorry'? You're gonna have to do a lot better than that for your best friend."
"I really am sorry, Libby. I just haven't been feeling like myself lately." Taking a right turn into a classroom, she was gone.
"Didn't even say goodbye." Shrugging, Libby turned and began to walk towards her first hour class.
Avoiding her usual seat in the middle of the room, Christina decided to sit in the back row. Sliding into the desk, she pulled off her backpack and sat it on the floor next to her. She knew everyone was staring at her as she walked in. Trying to avoid eye contact, she reached over to her pack and unzipped it. Pulling out a blue notebook and a blue pen, she laid them on the desk and began to doodle. Looking up for a moment, she watched her teacher walk into the room. He seemed to do a double take when he saw Christina there. Walter Jones was a short, stocky man wearing a pair of black slacks, and a red polo shirt. His dark hair was slicked back to his head and his black beard was showing some signs of graying. Laying his brief case on his brown wood desk he clicked open the locks and folded it open. The bell sounded over the intercom system.
"Good morning class. If you'll take out your Anthropology books and open them to chapter seven, we'll begin." His voice was slightly nasal, but very easy to listen to.
Opening her book to the correct chapter, Christina began to feel a little more at ease. She had always been able to immerse herself in her studies.
"Today we are going to begin studying the magnificent culture of the Egyptians," Mr. Jones announced.
Christina began to skim ahead in the chapter. Looking at the pictures on each page she saw familiar shapes. The Great Pyramids of Geza loomed above the Valley of the Kings. It was a place she had always wanted to visit. She was in awe of their majesty and beauty, and somehow she felt strangely drawn to them. Flipping the page, she came across a picture of a wall of Egyptian hieroglyphs. Studying the picture, she ran across something interesting. In the corner of the picture was a statue of what seemed to be a cat. She knew from her studies that the Ancient Egyptians held cats in high regard.
She stared at the cat intently while she listened to Mr. Jones talk. Looking closely at the statue of the cat, she began to feel strange. Turning the page, she came across a drawing of a young Pharaoh holding a black cat. Running her hand across the picture, she smoothed out the wrinkles on the page. The cat seemed to be staring at her. She felt like she was loosing her mind, but those eyes ... The cat's eyes were drawn out of proportion with the rest of the cat's body. They were large and almond shaped. Sitting back in her chair away from the book, Christina began to feel as if it was indeed watching her, almost tormented her. She feet a cold sweat running down her forehead. The eyes ... where had she seen them before? Slamming the book closed she folded her arms and lowered her head to her desk. Even now she could see the eyes in her mind, just staring at her. Nausea clawed at her stomach. What's wrong with me? In her minds eye she saw the yellow eyes of the cat morph into big black soulless eyes. She began to see a long spindly gray arm reach for her. On the hand there were four fingers and two thumbs and she knew whatever it was, it wasn't human. Panic set in as the hand neared her face. She could see the huge black eyes, examining her, staring at her. Suddenly it lurched toward her and grabbed her.
Sitting straight up in her chair she screamed at the top of her lungs. Looking around she saw all the students staring at her. Turning to her left, she saw Mr. Jones standing above her. "What's wrong, Christina? You were sleeping, I just came to wake you up."
She looked bewildered. "I was sleeping?"
"Yeah, the class is almost over." Mr. Jones' voice was soft and comforting, not scolding. He had heard what she had been going through and was trying not to be judgmental.
Looking up at the clock on the wall, she found that Mr. Jones was right. She had been asleep for almost a half an hour. Tears again began rolling down her face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to." Standing up from her desk, she pushed Mr. Jones aside and began to run out of the room. From behind her she could hear his voice calling for her to stop.
Christina ran down the hall for what seemed an eternity. Her mind was swimming and her eyes were filled with tears. Hitting the front doors, she flung them open as she ran out into the pouring rain. Running down the stairs, she tripped on the bottom step and fell hard. Her body hit the concrete sidewalk way with a resounding thud.
Charging out the door behind her was a puffing Mr. Jones. "Oh, my God!" Turning back to one of the students that followed him he yelled for them to get the nurse and the Principal. Kneeling beside Christina, he tried to shelter her from the rain with his body. "Oh, God. Christina? Are you all right, Christina?"
* * * *
The restaurant of the Tikki Hotel and Casino was crowded. The Hawaiian decor was beginning to get tiresome to Jake. Everywhere he looked he saw palm trees and bamboo decorated tables and chairs. Even the bar in the middle of the room looked as if it was made of sticks and coconut shells. Sitting in a booth near the door, he was reading the morning paper and enjoying a cigar. Taking a long drag off the cigar, he slowly blew out the smoke savoring the taste. "There's nothing better in the morning than a good cigar."
"Is that so?"
Jake was startled. Turning around he found a familiar face standing in front of his booth. His memory raced trying to remember her name. "Hi," he couldn't, "how are you?"
"You don't remember me, do you?" Her brown hair was up this time. Her eyes reminded Jake of the ocean. So green and deep you could almost see forever. She had on a blue blouse with black jeans.
"I haven't forgotten you." He motioned with his hand. "Please sit down. I was just about to order breakfast, would you like some?"
She smiled at Jake. Reaching out her hand she offered it as a greeting. "Hi, my name is Anne. We met in the elevator last night. You se
emed pretty tired last night, so I don't blame you for not remembering."
He smiled at her. "I'm sorry, Anne." Folding up his newspaper, he leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table.
"So what do you do for a living Jake?" Reaching over to the edge of the table she grabbed a white coffee mug and flipped it over.
"I'm a Private Investigator. How about you?"
"I'm in between jobs right now."
A waitress arrived carrying a pot of coffee. "Anyone for coffee?" Both nodded. The waitress filled up the white porcelain cups. "We'll have your breakfast out real quick." Turning to Anne she asked if she wanted to order. Anne shook her head no and the waitress left.
"Listen, Jake, we've got to talk."
"What about?"
"The case you're working on."
Jake became hesitant. "What are you talking about?"
"I have inside information on a lot of things," Anne replied with a crooked smile.
Sitting back in his chair, Jake took a long drag off his cigar. "Look. I don't even know who you are, or what you want, but I've got a case to work on here and I don't need any crank tips. Now if you'll excuse me," he began to get up to leave.
"Jake, wait." She reached up and snatched his arm. "I need to talk to you about this case." She let go of his arm. "I know what's going on with Christina Anderson."
Jake stopped. "How do you know her name?"
"I told you. I have information about what's going on."
Leaning over he placed his hands on the table in front of Anne. "All right. I'll listen, but not right now." He checked his watch. "Meet me in front of my room at about seven thirty tonight. Right now I've got to get over and meet my clients."
"All right. Seven thirty in front of your room."
"Room 212."
She nodded and stood up. "You think I'm crazy, don't you."
Jake nodded and smiled, "yeah." Lifting his cigar out of the ashtray he began to walk out of the restaurant.
