He starts to escort her to the kitchen, but then, thinking that in her current state she might need to scream, he takes her out the kitchen door into the back yard.
No sooner does the door shut than Lauren begins to melt down, “What in the heck am I supposed to do? I mean, this is—it’s impossible! Everything I do MAKES this prophecy come true! This isn’t any– It isn’t any assignment! The whole universe is just determined that I watch the man die! I’m– I’m calling Danning, he can’t–”
Hinton sternly interrupts her pre-hysterics, “Agent Coles, you are the primary on this detail.”
“Yes, but–”
“But nothing!” says Hinton with a glare and tone so intense she doesn’t dare raise further objection.
She swallows hard and says, “I’m sorry,” and fighting back tears she continues, “Agent Hinton, I need your help; I’m in over my head. This is my first case, and even you have to admit this thing is not like anything else!”
“Look, if you think I called you out here to give you some fatherly advice, I’m sorry. This isn’t a movie, and I’m not Morgan Freeman! You were just about to lose it in front of your team, and worse, in front of your protectees! It’s a hard thing to live down and likely to put all of our lives in jeopardy.”
“I can’t watch him die. I can’t!”
“Lauren! Get a hold of yourself! Turn your brain back on!”
“Okay, I’m sorry. I’m okay.” She takes a deep breath and looks at him. She starts to think but then shakes her head, overwhelmed by all the ramifications.
Hinton, “Think!”
“Okay, okay. Let’s see …” Then suddenly she says, “Wait, wait. What time is it?”
“Six twenty-five,” he replies, giving her an approving nod of the head.
“There’s no way I can watch him die, the prophecy is over at eight p.m., and we’re five hours from Washington.”
Hinton smiles, “Now you’re back online. Good.” Then, cutting his eyes at her, adds, “Unless of course the president is somewhere closer than you think.”
Lauren catches on quickly and smiles, “Well, if I was the type who accidentally divulges Secret Service intel, I would tell you that I know for a fact that he is, at least, four and a half hours from where I’m standing.”
“Do you really? Do you know that for sure?”
“Yes.”
“How can you be certain? When’s the last time you checked?”
Lauren stares at him a moment; then sighs deeply, “Ugh, it’s been over three hours.”
“So as far as you know, know for sure, the president could be within an hour or so of where you’re standing, and it is physically possible for you to watch him die by eight p.m. tonight.”
She stares at him further, unable or unwilling to move forward.
He nudges her, “Let your fingers do the walkin’…”
Dropping and shaking her head, “Oh, God, I hate calling into that detail.”
“I bet you hate it less than staring down at the president as his life ebbs away!”
Lauren, irritated by Hinton’s brutally effective comment, glares at him as she pulls out her cell phone. She calls Deputy Director Danning to get the latest.
Danning picks up the call while he and Special Agent Ramirez are rushing down a long hallway towards a waiting limo.
“Lauren?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I was about to dial your number. Have you been reading the intel from the kid’s journal?”
“I’ve only just started.”
“We’re prepping a plane to come get you!”
“What?”
“Yes, the intel shows that you are to be with the president”
“But, sir!”
“That’s right. You may be his only hope!”
“But, sir, it says I am to watch him die!”
“No, Lauren, read page …” he turns to Ramirez, and says, “What page is the part about her being there to save him.”
Ramirez, looking at a printout he has in hand, “Page seventeen.”
“Lauren,” continues Danning, “Look at page seventeen; it clearly says you are there to save him.”
“Sir, with all due respect, I am here to save him, but that doesn’t mean that I have to be with him,” then, lowering her voice, with sadness adds, “or that I can save him!”
“Lauren, the journal pages shows that Joseph Market wrote this part in Latin, and somebody seems to have translated it to English on the following page. This person’s Latin skills were not very good, and—listen we’re at the car now, but we’ll be there in about forty minutes. Check the uploads. Read everything; there are some assignment changes, but there’s hope, Lauren. There’s hope! We’ll see you. Bye”
Hinton walks over to Lauren, who is still somewhat in a daze, and taking one look at her face asks, “What’s wrong!”
“There’s hope; they’re coming to take me to the president.”
“What?”
“Yeah. They think I can save him!”
“Wha’choo talkin’bout, Willis! You must be joking!”
“I’ve never even met the president.”
“Well, your gonna meet ’im now! What the heck are they thinking? I thought this Danning guy was some sort of genius!”
Still aloof Lauren says, “He is.”
Hinton’s phone rings, he answers with a slightly higher degree of general annoyance. “Hinton.”
“He is a genius, just hang in there,” says Pratt on the phone.
Hinton, “How’d you know what I was saying?”
“I was monitoring the conversations in the house.”
“How?”
“Don’t worry about how. I’m packing up, and I just wanted to say nice working with you all, I’m headed over to the diner, then I’m gone.”
“But we’re not even in the house.”
“Like I said, don’t worry yourself about how. Agent Hinton, it’s been a pleasure.”
“Same here, really. Here’s Agent Coles, I’m sure you’d want to tell her bye, also.” He hands his phone to Lauren, saying, “Pratt.”
Pratt, “Good evening Agent Coles. I just wanted to say it’s been a real pleasure working with you. I hope we’ll see you again sometime.”
“Thanks. You guys have been great, I really needed you, and appreciate all you’ve done.”
“You are welcome. Don’t forget I’ll be at the diner here in town for the next hour; then I’ll head out for the City about a quarter to eight. Call me if you need me.”
“Okay. At the diner ’til seven forty-five; got it.”
But Hinton suddenly remembers something and asks for the phone back.
“Agent Pratt, I nearly forgot to tell you that your pals, over at Phone Tools, want you there right away.”
“Who’d you talk to?”
“Let me see,” he checks his notes, “an Agent Caldwell?”
“Oh, alright. Well, I promised Coles I’d be around. I’m still gonna grab a bite, but I guess you better tell her she can’t depend on me being in town beyond seven thirty.”
Hinton, with the slightest of smiles, “Okay, I’ll keep that in mind. Say, again it’s been a pleasure, even on such a whacky case. I’m sure you’ll be glad to get back to that special someone before the night is done.”
“Yeah, well, actually, I’m not seeing anyone at the moment.”
Hinton, with a knowing smile, “I didn’t think so.”
• • •
Back inside the house, Lauren is reading digital pages on her PDA. As she enters the living room she feels a pair of eyes on her. She looks up to see James, across the room, very much longing to speak with her. Her mind is pressed in too many directions to consider him at this point, but she cares too much to ignore him. She signals with her finger just a minute, and then proceeds to talk with all the agents about what to do next. Joanna also seems to be wondering what is going on, and what information they might have from Joseph’s journal.
Hinton, “I really think it’s time to bring the family up to speed.”
Lauren, still browsing the information on her PDA, “I agree completely; and I would like you to do it.”
“Okay, and why is that?”
“Cause I– Wait a minute.” She sees something on her PDA.
Hinton, “What?”
Lauren, reading the case notes, “Apparently the president got wind of why Danning– Apparently Chief of Staff Kell, and President Morrison insisted on returning to the White House.”
Hinton, “When? Why?”
“About an hour ago according to this. Seems like there’s something going on.”
As Senior Secret Service, Agent Reese knows better than anyone what this means, “That’s not good. I would guess that Danning is in some hot water about now. Chances are, this whole case is about to be shut down.”
Lauren, “But Danning—and I think FBI Assignment Chief Ramirez—are on their way here now.”
“Humph, actually that’s brilliant,” continues Reese, “the White House will be a lot less likely to pull the plug with the Deputy in the field. He’s a smart boy.”
Indicating he’s not as young as they think, Lauren says, “You know Danning is like forty years old”
Hinton and Reese, who are fifty-six and fifty, respectively, look at each other and say, “Wow, forty!”
Lauren is amused by their disposition and finishes her earlier thought. “Agent Hinton, I’d like you to handle the update because you are the next most familiar person on the case, and if I’m reading this correctly, there’s a good chance that Danning is going to fly me to DC in about thirty minutes, either placing Reese in charge, or switching the case to the Bureau and placing you in charge.”
“That’s a big change,” says Reese. “Couldn’t they just tell you that’s what the plan is?”
“Well, I tried to get more info, but they jumped into a limo and left me hanging.”
Hinton, “Man, it’s too bad they can’t invent a kind of a phone that you can take with you and continue talking while you’re traveling. One that will work from inside of a car!” Reese laughs as Hinton turns to him and says, “You see why I don’t accept a desk assignment; rots your brains!”
Reese agrees. They laugh about Hinton’s comment, but Lauren, largely out of great respect for her boss, Harold Danning, does little more than offer a polite smile.
Hinton looks at her and says, “What? You think the genius is too good to poke fun at? You’ll see, when you’ve been around a while; you’ll see.”
Lauren, “Maybe, but he’s never disappointed me so far.”
No sooner does she say that than her cell phone rings again. It’s Harold Danning showing that he’s no typical administrator. She shows the caller ID to Hinton whose laughter disappears with a clearing of his throat.
“Lauren, it’s Danning again.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m sorry about cutting you off earlier, but I had to give instructions to the driver.”
“No problem, sir,” she says turning to Hinton just for a moment.
“Let me try and put you up to speed. Have you read page seventeen?”
“Yes, sir, and the notes you attached.”
“Excellent. I need you to find out who translated the Latin, and whether it was written by the kid, or someone else.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then I need you to turn the lead over to Reese, and then get to the address I’m about to give you.”
“Turn the lead over, sir?”
“It’s not any reflection on your service, Lauren. I just need you to be there when we touch down in twenty-five minutes. Reese is the most senior agent I have on location. Hinton will be there, and he is fully abreast on the case. Ramirez will call him in just a minute to notify him of his expanded role.”
• • •
After talking with his boss, William Ramirez, Agent Hinton proceeds to get everyone’s attention to tell them how the last hour and fifteen minutes will play out. “Okay, Mrs. Phelps, Mary, Market family. This twelve-hour ordeal is just about over; and you’ve all been excellent. I speak for everyone on our team, when I say you are all great Americans who have served your country well, and have made our job much, much easier.”
They look at each other with polite and satisfied smiles; though Robert is still trying to figure a way to get to the office.
Hinton continues, “In these next seventy, seventy-five minutes or so, there will likely be some changes as we plan to pull out.” That sentence cuts through James like a knife, and he looks at Lauren with longing, only to hear, “Lauren will likely leave first. The focus of her role in this case is evolving, and she is needed in Washington.”
While Joanna lets out a soft, “Aww,” James is crushed, and his mouth falls open in a silent gasp.
Hinton ends, “Levy will do a final sweep of the Phelps home, and then we’ll give you some final instructions on how to stay in touch.”
Joanna, “What about the journal? Did you get some more of Joey’s writings?”
Lauren steps up, “Yes we did; and a hard copy should be here any moment. We’ll go over them with you before we leave.” Turning to Hinton, “May I interject a question?”
“Sure,” he replies.
“Joanna, how did the Latin writing get written? Did Joey write all of it?”
“Well, actually, I wrote most of the Latin. You see, when Joey would come home from church to go write in his journal, he would write in English sometimes, but other times he would just repeat what he heard over and over and write scribble. So I would first write what I was hearing him say—phonetically—then later in the week, when I was over the shock, I’d carefully translate using my Latin-English dictionary from my class.”
“Oh, okay.” Then showing her a page on her PDA Lauren asks, “And did you do this translation?”
“Yes. That was one of the first ones I did.”
“Mrs. Market,” asks Hinton, “how is it that you came to take a course in Latin?”
“It was a course in Greek & Latin; and I took it for my Bible studies.”
Mrs. Phelps interrupts, “No, you didn’t Joanna.”
“What? What do you mean Mrs. P.?”
“Remember? You first started taking it because Joey was talking in his sleep.”
“Ohhhhh, that’s right! Remember, Robert?”
Robert, somewhat distracted, “Oh, yeah, that was it.”
Joanna cuts her eyes at him then turns to Lauren, “I had completely forgotten; for about a month, was it?” she confirms turning to Mrs. Phelps.
“That’s right.”
“Joey would take a nap in the afternoon and Mrs. Phelps and I would be enjoying tea together. And Joey would start to talk in his sleep. Then one day Mrs. P said that it sounded like Latin.”
Lauren, “How old was he?”
“Hmmm,” thinks Joanna, “I’d say this was about a year before the church thing.”
But Mrs. Phelps supplies the exact time, “It was five years after Carl retired.”
“So, at any rate, I started taking Latin because of that, hoping to make out what he might be saying, to figure out where he was getting it from.”
Lauren, “Did you ever?”
“No, by the time I got into the class, and got around to understanding enough, he had stopped.”
Hinton, in typical form, “It’s too bad there’s not a device–” Lauren bumps him with her elbow to change his attitude and he continues, “I mean, that you didn’t get a chance to record any of his sounds.”
“We did!” says Joanna, “but nothing came out on the recording.”
“What?” he exclaims.
“We did try to record Joey. One of the last times he did it. I borrowed Mr. Phelps recorder, but evidently we didn’t know how to operate it, ’cause, even though the dial was moving and everything, right Mrs. P? …”
“Sure was.”
“… when we played it back, it was just back
ground noise.”
Hinton, with a serious tone, “Was it just background noise, or could you hear yourselves on the tape.”
“Hmm, I don’t remember. Do you remember Mrs. P?”
“I sure don’t, sweetie.”
Hinton, “And I guess there’s no chance of locating that tape?”
Mrs. Phelps, “All I can think is that we gave it to Carl with his recorder.”
“Oh!” says Lauren, “Excuse me, for just a moment.” She proceeds to text message Danning with the information he requested about who wrote the Latin, then she uses her PDA’s GPS to map out her drive to where she’ll meet their plane, as Hinton finishes debriefing everyone.
The End
At the diner, Agent Pratt orders a meal to go, while he stealthfully eavesdrops on a conversation at the far end of the bar between Officer Mark Anderson, and Fire Commander Bruce Watson. The diner is busy, with about half of the tables full. Anderson tries to enjoy his dinner as his shift is about to begin, but Watson who doesn’t work Sunday or Monday is off, and is basically obsessing over the Market prophesies.
Anderson, “I really think these guys have it under control.”
Watson, “But I don’t think they’ve done the calculation correctly.”
“Oh, they haven’t?”
“No. If they had, they would not be here but in Washington DC, guarding the president.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Look, it said that Mrs. Phelps friend would die nine years after her husband, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And when did he die?”
”I don’t know”
“Nine years after; just like it said.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And then what?”
“I don’t know.”
“One week hence! You gotta remember one week hence.”
“Uh-huh.”
“One week hence, a fire was gonna come to your home it said.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well! What did we just put out?”
The manager hands Pratt his meal in a to-go box and turning towards Watson and Anderson at the far end of the bar says, “You’re right, the fire was suppose to be one week after the lady kicked.”
A waitress working the evening shift looks at him disapprovingly and says, “A little respect.”
The Journal: A Prophecy, A President & Death Page 40
