Corrector

by Blink, Bob

  Groaning as he bent to climb out of the car, Jake then stood and made his way down the alley. It was later than it had been the last time he’d come this way, but still early enough he didn’t think he’d be seen. He retraced the steps and soon enough was back in place behind the stairs inside the house. He sat on the chair and endured the throbbing in his skull. His Browning Hi-Power was resting in his lap, and when he heard the movement up above signaling Cheryl’s stepfather was about to head down the stairs he reached down and wrapped his fingers around the wooden grip of the 9mm. A couple of minutes later, Jake heard the clumping footsteps as the man came down the stairs.

  As soon as he reached the lower level, Jake stepped from behind the staircase where he’d been waiting and shot him four times in the back. It wasn’t pretty, and there was no finesse to the shooting, but he wasn’t in any shape to worry about such things. The shots were all good, and Jake had no doubts the man was dead. He didn’t know if Karin would understand, but he would have to take whatever fallout came from his actions. In his mind it was this way, or let Cheryl’s mom die. Given the choice of one or the other, this seemed best.

  Jake didn’t worry about the brass that bounced around the hallway. He knew the shots would alert Cheryl’s mom, and more than likely the nosey neighbor, although she might not be up yet as this time the shooting was somewhat earlier than before. Jake slipped his jacket up to partly cover his head, and adjusted the ball cap with the same intent. He’d always disliked hooded jackets but wished he’d had the foresight to have worn one today. He slipped the pistol into his belt and quickly made his way out the back and into the alley, moving quickly toward his car. He was driving away by the time Cheryl’s mom discovered the body, and had somehow eluded the notice of the neighbor. No one else saw him leave either.

  He headed back toward LAX, dumping the pieces of the handgun, his gloves, and the hat and jacket into a dumpster behind a small shop in a string of still closed stores along a stretch of a rundown street in Lakewood. He jumped back onto the freeway and continued back to the Sheraton. He used the quick checkout, then drove to the rental agency and dropped off the car, calling for a taxi to take him to the airfield. Forty-five minutes later he was airborne and on his way back to Stead. He hoped he hadn’t left much of a trail. He was too muddle-headed to be sure. He was flying a plane with fuzzy vision and a mind that was running on slow. Just the right combination where a keen eye and good coordination could make all the difference in a successful trip.

  Somehow he made a reasonable landing at the airport, not one of his best, and turned the 182 over to the rental office without a scratch. He paid up, reclaimed his Chevy, and drove slowly home. Once there he showered, had something to eat, swallowed another five aspirin, and called Karin. He told her that he was back, it had been a disaster, but he would explain tomorrow. He was going to bed. Then he hung up and climbed between the sheets.

  He woke around midnight to find a naked Karin spooning him. She had come over and let herself in. Obviously he had sounded horrible on the phone and she had been worried.

  “Jake, are you all right?” she asked softly when she sensed he was awake.

  The ache in his head had subsided to a dull throb. He was clearly on the mend, but he still didn’t feel anywhere close to normal.

  He rolled around and reached for her. She came into his arms and he could feel her warmth along the length of his body. He wished he felt well enough to take appropriate action, but that kind of activity would surely set his head off again. Slowly, he told her the whole story.

  “I killed him Karin,” he said softly as he finished the tale. “I had no choice. I was in no shape to try anything clever, and I can’t risk looping into that situation again. It was that or let him kill Mrs. Green.”

  Surprisingly, Karin didn’t object. “I understand,” she said. “We can tell Cheryl what happened when she gets home the day after tomorrow. Maybe she can help her mother understand.”

  “You’ll have to tell her,” Jake said. “I’m going to have to go back East and chase down Carlson.”

  “Do you think she’ll listen?”

  “I got to her once. I know her secret, which will get her attention. I know when the blast will happen, and a rough idea of where. Carlson gave me her office number and a private home number and told me her schedule. That should be enough to get me started.”

  “Are you sure you are in any shape to attempt this? Can you continue to back-track over the same period time and time again? Is it doing something to you?”

  “I honestly don’t know. I wish I could wait a week or so, but there isn’t any time. I’ll just have to try and minimize any back-tracking. I think I might have come back as far as possible.” Jake told her about the unexplained lack of ability to sense himself very far back after the series of jumps.

  “Just don’t be stupid and take any unnecessary risks. If you hadn’t gotten away I would have lost you forever.”

  They drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms, waking again after eight the next morning. The pain was continuing to abate, but his head still felt stuffy. Jake felt well enough they made love, then showered together. Then they went out for brunch. Karin took the day off, and they spent it together. After a romantic dinner, they returned home, made love, and went to sleep again. In the morning, Jake would be leaving.

  Jake closed the safe. He had two sets of identification once again. Today he was bringing his own papers, plus the ID for Stan Mathews. That was the way he’d first introduce himself to Carlson. That was who the woman was looking for. Karin drove him to the airport, which worked out well. He had to catch a Southwest flight to San Francisco where he’d pick up the American flight that would carry him to Washington D.C. Karin would hang around for an hour until Zack and Cheryl arrived.

  “Karin,” Jake said hesitantly after he’d checked in his bags.

  She looked at him expectantly.

  “Look, we don’t know how this is going to play out. I’m going to have to reveal what I can do to Agent Carlson. Who knows where that will lead?”

  “We talked about that last night,” she said.

  “Yeah, I know. They might want to come after me for what I’ve done before. We know they are looking for Mathews, which is me. They have some idea what I’ve done, but not the real story. Hopefully, I can make them understand. If not, well . . .” Jake shrugged.

  “Jake, what are you trying to say?”

  “If it all works out, I’d like you to think about something. About us. You don’t have to answer now. It would be pointless anyway. But I’d like you to think about something more permanent.” He stopped, frustrated.

  “Jake, is this some kind of proposal?”

  “No. Yes. Sort of. I want to do that right, but that’s where I’m headed. Just think about it. We’ll talk when this is all over, assuming I’m still free to wander around.”

  Karin embraced him and gave him a meaningful kiss. “Dummy,” she said. “Come on, your plane is going to leave. You’ll be stuck here for another couple of hours and miss the San Francisco connection.”

  It was early evening when Jake arrived in Washington, and he went straight to his hotel. He ordered room service, called Karin while he waited, then ate and then went to sleep. Tomorrow would be a busy day.

  Chapter 33

  Jake slept in, at least in terms of local time. He had been tired, and was still on West Coast time, so it was almost ten AM Washington D.C. time when he finally rolled out from between the sheets. It was too late for him to expect the breakfast buffet to still be available, but the Marriott Residence Inn where he was staying also had room service. He placed an order for a large breakfast, ordering more than he knew he could eat, but the variety would allow him to pick and chose as whim struck him. He showered and changed while he waited for the food to arrive. He didn’t have a heavy schedule today, at least until tonight. His primary purpose was to explore the city and make sure he placed himself in numerous locations widely spread
against the chance he might need to back-track in the coming days. He’d had enough being in a situation where he was physically too far removed for him to be able to use his ability to extract himself from situations that were not headed in the proper direction.

  To that end he played tourist. After leaving the room he went first downstairs to the business center and arranged for the single envelope to be delivered by registered carrier that day. Then he retrieved his car and started his tour of the city. He drove past the White House and visited the Capitol Building. He also visited the museums and some of the monuments. In addition he drove completely around the city on the beltway, stopping periodically, but never leaving the car. He had a supply of aspirin in place, as well as a couple of Pepsi’s he’d purchased from the vending machine on his floor. They would be warm by the end of the day, but taste wasn’t the reason he wanted them. Jake also drove past the FBI Headquarters on Penn Avenue where he expected to spend much of the day tomorrow. He found a place to park a couple of blocks away and walked around the outside of the facility. By the time he had finished it was getting late, and he pointed his rental car to the west, heading out of town before the daily commute traffic became too great.

  Jake drove the twenty-one miles on the Dulles Toll Road, taking the Reston off ramp which placed him in the town where Special Agent Susan Carlson lived. He’d marked her location on the map he carried with him, and when he passed a small mall he pulled into the parking lot to refresh his memory of the streets and locate exactly where he was at the moment. Confident he could find it, he shifted the vehicle back into drive and enjoyed the drive through the small town, finally passing in front of the large brick house where the senior agent lived. He passed without stopping, then drove back down the main street where he pulled into a chain restaurant he recognized.

  By the time he had finished dessert he was confident she would be home. He returned to his car and once inside the vehicle he retrieved the cheap cellular phone and dialed her number from memory. It took six rings before it was answered.

  “Yes,” said the slightly breathy voice he remembered from their meeting in Los Angeles that now had never taken place.

  He noticed she didn’t identify herself, simply waiting after the single word question.

  “Agent Carlson?” Jake asked, mostly to see what she would say. He already knew it was her.

  “Who is this?” she asked, still refraining from identifying herself.

  Jake decided it was time to see how this would go. “Agent Carlson, my name is Stan Mathews. It has come to my attention that you are looking for me.”

  He heard a small catch on the other end, something that would have easily been missed had he not been expecting it. The line was silent for just a fraction longer than normal before she replied. “I’m sorry, the name isn’t familiar to me. Mathews, you say? And why would I be looking for you? Also, how did you come by this number? This is a private number, not listed to my name and not even answered by my domestic help.”

  Jake smiled. He had her curious at least. “Let’s not play games. I know you have a watch on my plane in Reno. The local police have been charged with detaining me for questioning should I appear and try to use it. I thought it might be best if we could talk under more comfortable conditions.”

  “That is a very interesting story. Even if true, how would you be aware of such a watch? You also haven’t explained how you came into possession of this number. I would very much like to know that. My privacy is something I don’t take lightly.”

  “I can and will explain everything you ask,” Jake said, “but I need to establish some credentials first. Without a little background you will find my explanations suspect, to say the least. I want you to be prepared to listen with an open mind and hopefully restrict the number of participants when I come into your office in the morning.”

  “You are planning on turning yourself in?”

  “I’m planning on coming in. I’m hoping the difference in wording will have meaning by the time we are finished talking. It is imperative I talk with you, and not one of your FBI interrogators.”

  “So, how do you propose we proceed?”

  “Did you get my letter today?”

  “If you are referring to the unsigned sheet with a series of numbers on it, yes. I have been wondering what that is all about. It’s clearly a code of some sort, but I have no idea what it might be about. I was thinking of turning it over to the cryptographic department tomorrow.”

  “It is unlikely they could break it,” Jake said. “You also would be unhappy if they did. The message is personal and not something you would want generally known. The code is the simplest of codes. The two columns of numbers refer to a page and a word number from a book.”

  “Then I would need to know the book to be able to decode it,” she said.

  “You have the book in your office. It’s probably sitting by your reading chair. You bought it that last time you were delayed in an airport.”

  Susan Carlson had told him of the book when they had planned how he was to get her attention this time around. It was part of a series, and the kind of thing people wouldn’t have expected her to read. It was a little surprising that she, as an FBI agent, would find the adventures of an aging sniper intriguing. Jake had purchased a copy of the book and had spent part of the plane trip from the West Coast making up the message.

  “One more thing. You need to increase the numbers of the first column by seven, and decrement the numbers of the second column by the same number. That number will be important later.”

  “You want me to decode the message now?”

  “It’s necessary if we are to proceed. If you would decode it, then we can continue our talk. I’ll call back. By the way, I’d decode it before calling and arranging to have this call traced. The trace won’t tell you much, and it won’t help. Believe me, I have ways of eluding capture that you can’t even imagine. We need to do this my way, at least until I’ve turned myself over to you. I’ll be calling back in fifteen minutes.”

  Jake hung up, and smiled. He wondered whether she would decode the message first or arrange for the trace. Probably the former, but they wouldn’t be prepared for him to be located almost outside her door. If she tried the latter, he could be gone before they could get anyone in place, and even if caught, he had options. He could redo this as often as needed. He started the rental and drove a couple of blocks from where Carlson lived. Then he parked and waited an additional few minutes until the full fifteen had passed.

  “Mathews?” she asked upon picking up the phone when he called back. As he expected, she had been waiting by the phone. “Where did you get anything as ridiculous as this?”

  “The same place I got your phone number,” Jake replied calmly. “You gave it to me.” The message had been the personal information that Carlson had reluctantly given him back at the Los Angeles jail.

  “That’s ridiculous. I’ve never spoken to you in my life. Even not knowing who you were. I would recognize the voice and I know approximately what you look like. Besides, if this nonsense were true, I’d not be sharing it with anyone.”

  “Remember I said keep an open mind. I have an ability that you have never encountered, and which you will scoff at when I tell you. But I can demonstrate it to your satisfaction. In fact, I’m going to need to convince you I’m genuine if we are to do something very important together. You asked about how I knew you were watching my plane. I discovered that the first time I was arrested and turned over to the FBI, and agent named Thomas from Sacramento.”

  “There’s no record of your being arrested and turned over to us,” she objected. “I would have been informed immediately.”

  “And so you were,” Jake said, “but I had other things to do, so I corrected that situation and now it never happened, but I learned a lot about what you know. Your list of incidents is partially correct,” he said. “Those were me. Your list is incomplete. There are almost as many missing as you have listed.”


  He could tell she didn’t know where to start. “You admit to these crimes?” she asked surprised. “And you claim there are more? You claim you intend to turn yourself in tomorrow and will talk about them then?”

  “I don’t consider them crimes, although technically I suppose they are. Yes, I’ll talk about all of them. It will be part of you understanding what this is all about.”

  “I still don’t understand your claim of having been arrested.”

  “There was a second time. That time was in Los Angeles, and it led to our meeting. I was detained and held in the federal facility there. You actually helped me escape, and as part of that escape you told me the information in that message as well as giving me this phone number.”

  “You’re insane. That never happened, and I wouldn’t have helped anyone escape.”

  “You will have reason to reconsider that when you know what is at stake here. It’s all part of the special skill I have. I promise to demonstrate conclusively to you that I’m being truthful.”

  “This will be tomorrow, when you turn yourself in?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “So why this call? What do you hope to gain by making these outlandish claims and calling me at home?”

  “When I come in, I want to speak with you, and Agent Laney. I would like to keep it to just the two of you. I expect if I just came in, it would be some time before I could speak with you alone. Time is important here. I hope that I’ve given you enough to think about that you will be willing to set up a controlled environment where the discussion can take place as I’ve described. If not, well, then I’ll have to think of another way to approach this.”