by James Hunt
“Wow, you scared the crap out of me. Can I help you?” Paul asked, with a tinge of annoyance to his tone.
“Sorry there, friend, didn’t mean to startle you,” goatee man said with a smile. His eyes were concealed by the dark lenses of his sunglasses. “Maybe you can help us. Are you William Hoffman?”
Paul examined the two men carefully. Maybe they were friends of Bill’s. Maybe even family. They looked to Paul as if they were going to a funeral. Regardless, he didn’t like the air of shadiness they exuded.
“Who wants to know?” he asked.
Goatee man offered Paul a handshake to which he mildly reciprocated.
“Where are my manners?” the man asked. “I’m Edwin, this is my associate, Greg.”
“What can I do for you gentlemen?” Paul asked.
“We’re looking for William Hoffman,” Edwin answered.
Paul rested his arm against the driver’s side door, ready to enter the car. “Bill Hoffman? That’s my boss. He’s not here right now.”
Edwin looked at Paul surprised, even with his eyes carefully concealed. “And what’s your name? If you don’t mind me asking,” he asked.
Paul looked back to the large associate, Greg, standing behind Edwin not saying a word. “My name’s Paul. Now if you’ll both excuse me, I have to get going.”
“Where can we find your boss?”
“Did you try his house?” Paul asked, growing more anxious to leave the scene by the minute.
“Yes we did. The place looks about as vacant as the Bates Motel.”
Paul laughed slightly. “I haven’t seen Bill for a good month so there’s not much I can do to help.”
“He’s a hard man to find,” Edwin said as he held Paul’s door open, preventing him from shutting it. Paul felt his flight instincts kick in with the uncomfortable tension in the air.
“I told you that I need to be going now,” Paul said as he bypassed Edwin’s arms to enter the car. Once inside, he slammed the door shut. Paul felt nervous and shook up. For a moment he didn’t even know how to start the car. “What the fuck?” he said to himself, feeling dazed.
Edwin and Greg remained outside the car looking in. Edwin tapped on the driver’s side window. Paul lowered the window a crack after starting the car.
“It’s very important that we find your boss today,” Edwin said.
“What is this about?” Paul asked. He placed one hand on the steering wheel and clutched the gear shift in the middle console with his other hand.
“We’re old friends from out of town, dropping by for the weekend,” Edwin said.
“I would suggest trying his cell phone. I honestly have no idea where he is,” Paul said.
“How about a lucky guess?” Edwin asked.
“Best of luck to you gentlemen,” Paul answered with a quick nod in Edwin’s direction. The window went up; Paul put the car in reverse, and backed out.
“Don’t let him leave,” Edwin said to Greg.
Greg nodded and reached into his pocket. Suddenly, right outside the parking lot, a police car drove by, slowing down as it passed the parking lot.
“Wait,” Edwin said. They took keen notice of the car.
“Just follow me,” Edwin said. The two men walked away and moved in the opposite direction. Paul felt relieved as they left. The confrontation had rattled him. He steered the Passat towards the parking lot exit and onto the main road.
“We need to follow that little prick,” Edwin said, looking back as they fled to a nearby alley. “He’s lying to us about something. I just know it. Remember, Mr. Bennett said to bring back the money or his head.”
“You think he was serious about the head part?” Greg asked.
“You ever knew the man to tell a joke?” Edwin asked.
“No. I guess I haven’t.”
“He’s not the joking type. Trust me.”
Paul drove through downtown still shaken. He didn’t know where the two men had come from, but he was sure that they weren’t locals. He looked at his phone. It was 4:10 p.m. Julie’s practice had ended at 3:30. He hoped that she wouldn’t be upset. He needed some calmness after his confrontation with the two seemingly menacing men from out of town. It was a miracle that Julie hadn’t called him yet. Normally she wouldn’t have let five minutes go by without reminding him. He didn’t want to start the entire weekend off on a bad note. It would be just the two of them, that is, if she didn’t go to a friend’s house or something.
“Does she even have friends?” Paul thought. “Of course she does. What twelve-year-old girl doesn’t have a couple of friends? Plus, she’s on the soccer team.”
Paul picked up his phone to call her. This would at least soften the blow. The call went to voice mail. Paul hung up.
“I tried,” he said.
He neared Providence Street, only a few miles away from her middle school. Traffic had thinned out and, for the most part, it was smooth sailing to the school. Paul glanced in his rearview mirror and noticed a dark blue Lincoln Town Car trailing him. It had been following him for miles. He hated when a car followed him for too long. It was annoying in the way that he always thought it was a cop at first, or the way he didn’t know whether to slow down or speed up. He’d pull over to the side of the road and let them pass if he didn’t have to get to the school so quickly. As an experiment, Paul increased his speed from forty to fifty miles per hour. The car remained steadily on his tail. The Lincoln trailed him at such a distance as not to be obvious. It remained two or three car lengths behind. Paul slowed down, nearing the school zone. To his right was Discovery Cove Middle School, an unfenced area of one-story brick buildings.
From the main gate, Julie usually met him at a nearby curb where there was a shaded bench area. It was nice because Paul didn’t even have to enter the school to get her. Today was no exception. Paul saw her seated on the bench, in her soccer uniform, clutching a burgundy-colored book bag. She was talking to three other girls.
“Maybe she’s making plans for a sleepover at their house,” Paul thought. “I could really use the house to myself this weekend.”
Paul pulled to the curb. The Lincoln slowly passed as Paul felt vindicated. He tried to get a better look into the car, but couldn’t make anything out beyond the dark tint. Julie opened the door and jumped into the passenger’s seat. She slammed it shut as if upset. Paul prepared to apologize for his lateness, but Julie beat him to the punch. His tardiness was the last thing on her mind.
“Turn on the radio, now,” she ordered.
Paul was taken by surprise. “Huh? Why?”
Julie ignored him and turned the radio on herself. She flipped through several channels to a reporter’s voice discussing a terrorist attack. Paul pulled back onto the road, trying to pay attention to what the reporter was saying.
“Multiple casualties…massive injuries…the worst terrorist attack since September 11, 2001.”
“What happened?” he asked Julie.
“Terrorists blew up Wall Street,” Julie said. “It just happened like thirty minutes ago.”
Chapter Three
A Distant Blast
“How do they know it was terrorists?” Paul asked.
“I don’t know, Paul. Bombs don’t blow themselves up do they?” Julie replied.
“I know that. What exactly did you hear? And why haven’t you been answering your phone?”
Julie rolled her eyes.
“My phone is dead. I forgot to plug it in last night and that’s that. But when I was waiting for you, for like the past ten hours, one of the girls showed me some updates on her phone.”
She glanced to the console below the stereo panel where Paul’s phone sat.
“Let me see yours,” she said, grabbing it.
“Easy there,” Paul said.
“Just listen to the radio,” Julie said waving him off.
Paul turned the dial up on the radio.
“This is ABC News to bring you an update on the Wall Street Bombing. Officials h
ave now reported that at approximately 3:30 p.m. a premeditated blast occurred on the busy floor of the New York Stock Exchange, thirty minutes prior to the closing bell. Dozens of first responders stormed the scene and did their best to contain and minimize the damage. At this point, there are twenty people confirmed dead and over seventy-five injured. The Stock Exchange has been sealed off from the public and police have blocked the area within a five mile radius. For the first time in American history the financial sector of Wall Street has been shut down until further notice. This news puts the financial world and the nation’s economy in deep uncertainty. Officials are instructing residents to stay away from the area until further notice.”
“Absolutely insane,” Paul said.
Julie was busy navigating Paul’s phone, trying to find some more information. Paul looked ahead then glanced into his rearview mirror. There was a familiar-looking car trailing them. The sight was unreal; however, there was no denying what was there. The blue Lincoln was back.
“You see that car?” he said to Julie, as if confiding in her.
“Huh?” Julie asked as she scrolled through different apps on his phone.
“Look behind us,” Paul said. Annoyed, Julie looked out the rear of the car.
“Don’t let them see you,” Paul said quickly. “Just look in your side mirror.”
Julie turned back around and sighed. “What’s your problem? Who cares?”
“Just don’t make it too obvious, okay?”
“Who would want to follow you anyway?” Julie asked. “You’re like the most boring guy on the planet.”
“And that’s exactly how I like it,” Paul said.
Julie ignored him and put her attention back to the phone. At the intersection ahead, the light went from yellow to red. Paul looked around, noticeably distracted by the car idling behind him. He stared into the rearview mirror and tried to identify the passengers. There were two men that looked similar to the ones who had confronted him in the parking lot.
“Son of a bitch,” Paul said.
Julie looked to Paul and shook her head. Her thumbs moved a mile-a-minute across the phone’s touch screen.
“Yep, definitely a terrorist attack. That’s what they’re saying now,” she said.
Paul was noticeably distracted. The light turned green. Julie’s attention was on the phone in the middle of a texting fury with some friends. A light honk from the Lincoln caused her to look up.
“Hey, the light’s green,” she said.
Paul jumped out of his daze. He hit the gas pedal and they raced through the intersection as the Lincoln followed.
“We need to stop at the store,” Julie said.
“Why?” Paul asked.
His feelings about stopping were mixed. If they were being followed, this would bring direct confrontation. But they might also be safer given the large Friday afternoon crowd. Another news update came on the radio. Paul turned the volume knob louder.
“The President is expected to address the situation within the next hour. Officials are scrambling for details as no terrorist groups have claimed responsibility. The Wall Street Bombing occurred around 3:30 p.m. this afternoon. Thirty are now reported dead and over seventy-five injured. The Department of Homeland Security has indefinitely elevated the threat level in the United States through The National Terrorism Advisory System. This could mean several changes to flight travel, border security, street routes, and bridges within major cities. New York City public officials are asking for cooperation and vigilance from its residents during this tragic and trying time.
Paul’s phone vibrated in Julie’s hands.
“You just got a terror alert,” Julie said.
“Took them long enough,” Paul answered.
His mind was everywhere. He tried to make sense of the radio reports, but couldn’t shake the thought of the car following him. He felt violated, nearing contempt. Who the hell were those two men to be following him about town? It was time to give them a piece of his mind. And if they persisted, Paul would drive straight to the police station.
“Don’t forget to turn at the light,” Julie said, pointing ahead. On the right was True Save, Beech Creek’s version of Walmart, a large twenty-four hour retail store.
“I think we should just go home. This attack is a very serious thing. People are dead. We should call your mom and check on her,” Paul said.
“That’s exactly why we need stuff,” Julie said. “There’s nothing to eat at the house. Nothing. Are we going to starve to death now?”
“We can order pizza,” Paul answered.
“We’re going to need more than that. I also need to get some school supplies for a project this weekend.”
“You must have quite an allowance savings built up,” Paul said.
“Give me a break,” Julie scoffed. “Since when do I have to pay for groceries?”
They neared the right turn lane at the light. Paul glanced back to his rearview mirror.
“If you don’t stop at the store, I’m not going to get the supplies I need. Then I’ll get an F, and then you’ll have to explain to my mom how you’re to blame for me getting an F.”
Without comment, and at the last possible moment, Paul jerked the car to the right. Julie swung to the side of the door.
“Hey,” she said. “What’s your problem?”
Paul’s plan worked. The Lincoln hadn’t been able to turn in time, and continued down the road.
“Ha!” Paul cheered. “I lost them.”
Julie took one look at Paul.
“You’re weird,” she said.
Paul turned into the crowded parking lot. Arrows on the pavement indicated the one-way direction through the busiest areas. The only spaces available were at the far end of the lot. As they came to a stop in a line of traffic, Paul glanced at his fuel gauge. It was near empty.
“Crap,” he said. “Remind me to get gas on the way home.”
“Okay,” Julie responded as she scanned for somewhere to park.
Paul arrived to the end of the row, unsure of where to turn.
“Here’s what I’m going to do. I’ll drop you off at the front and meet you inside,” he said.
“Alright,” Julie said. “Can I have some money?”
Paul raised an eyebrow of disapproval.
“Are you serious?”
Julie remained straight-faced.
“Well, yeah. I could be done shopping by the time you find a spot around here,” she said.
“You can wait until I meet you in the store,” Paul said.
“Whatever,” Julie said opening the car door.
She stepped out and slammed the door shut. Paul looked to his left and saw a few empty spaces three rows farther down. He turned the stereo volume up and listened closely.
“And now we take you to our Washington correspondent as the President prepares to address the American people. Yes, Sharon, it’s a solemn atmosphere in the press briefing room. Several fellow journalists and I are still recoiling from the tremendous shock and of the tragic Wall Street Bombing. We’re told that the President is going to speak any minute now.”
Paul turned down the third parking aisle past families, baby strollers, and a bagger pushing a long line of grocery carts. He drove to a space down at the end and parked. He sat in the car waiting for the President’s comments. In the meantime, reporters repeated details on the attack and its devastating toll. He searched around the car for his cell phone. His hands moved across the center console and the seats. He found his cell phone on the floor where Julie had been sitting.
“Call Sam,” Paul said into the phone.
He turned the phone to speaker and waited as Sam’s number rang. It went to voicemail after a few rings.
“Hi, this is Samantha, I can’t come to the phone right now, but if you please leave a message, I will respond as soon as possible. Thank you.”
Paul held the phone closer to his mouth as an automated voice took over.
“If you wou
ld like to leave a message, press one or wait for the tone.”
The tone of the beep soon followed.
“Sam, hi, it’s me, babe. Look, call me as soon as you can. I just want to make sure that you’re alright and that everything is okay. If you haven’t heard the news yet, there was a terrorist attack in New York City, but I want you to know that Julie and I are safe and sound and will be heading home soon…”
Paul looked across the parking lot and became silent upon seeing the blue Lincoln once again. It was only a few rows down, roaming each aisle like a lumbering shark. Paul nearly forgot that he was in the middle of leaving a message.
“I’m sorry, just got a little distracted. Call me as soon as you can, love you.”
He put the phone down as his eyes followed the Lincoln in the rearview mirror. He was certain that it was the two men from before; they were stalking him. His mind raced with options. Should he get out of the car? Could he get out of the car? Should the police be called? Was he prepared to defend himself? It was all too much to consider on a Friday afternoon.
Julie carried a basket in her arms, trotting down the snack aisle with her soccer cleats. She tossed a box of cookies into her basket, followed by a couple packs of chewing gum. She weaved between women pushing carts and families walking in packs. The store was brightly lit and bustling with business. At the end of every other aisle was a large monitor screen that played product ads all day. However, this time it was different. There was a man on the screen standing at a podium addressing the camera. Julie recognized him as President Howard. He was a middle-aged man with graying hair and a tall, slender build. He appeared confident, but visibly shaken.
Julie breezed past the school supply aisle in search of something more. She stopped at the makeup aisle, looked around and then walked down the tile floor towards the cosmetics, stocked with all the products that her mother would never let her have. Paul didn’t know any better though. If she didn’t get too greedy she could get away with sneaking a compact, some lipstick, and maybe even some nail polish into the mix. It was the perfect plan. She grabbed each product, the very ones she had been eying the past month, and placed them in the shopping basket.
