by D Krauss
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Invisibility
“Dad?”
Carl looked up from the TV. “What is it?”
“There’s a couple of guys at the front door.” Junior stood next to Carl’s chair, worried.
“All right,” Carl eased the lounger down and walked through the kitchen and out the back, grabbing the .357 on the way and sticking it in his waistband. He slipped around the side of the house, the purposely overgrown honeysuckle masking his movements until he stood beside the short picket fence bordering the front lawn. He had the porch flanked now and studied the two men standing there.
Suits.
Carl glanced at the street. Dark sedan parked in front, dark windshield, someone at the wheel. Another Suit.
Okay.
“Can I help you gentlemen?” Carl called out as he stepped from hiding, his hand easy in his back and not so easy around the grip.
They both turned, the one closest to Carl blocking the other so Carl’d have them both quickly, should things get out of hand. Perfect. The one closest smiled, appreciative of Carl’s move, and put a restraining hand on his partner, who was trying to move to the lawn and better position. “Mr. Henderson?”
“Can I help you?” Carl watched him. Obviously, the one in charge. If more than the expected preliminaries were needed, he’d be the one to start it, so stay on him.
“Well, yes you can, Mr. Henderson,” Smiley strode off the side steps and across the lawn, flipping out creds with one hand and extending the other while, somehow, signaling the gorilla to take up that better position.
Okay.
Carl ignored the hand, didn’t ignore the yard gorilla, and glanced quickly at the open creds. “Agent Smith.” Carl read out loud, and then nodded at the gorilla. “I suppose that’s Agent Jones?”
Smith laughed, the humor ending at his bottom eyelids. “No, his name is Wherry. We’re not THAT stock.” He withdrew the untaken hand and placed it near his coat opening, the mirthless eyes examining the angle of Carl’s hidden arm. Letting Carl know he knew.
Okay.
“Hm,” Carl grunted, “and the driver is Agent Careful.”
Again, a laugh, still no humor, the unpoised hand shaking a finger, “Wary and careful, that’s good, Mr. Henderson. You’re a quick study.” Pause. “Aren’t you?”
“Can I help you, Agent Smith?”
“Ah,” Smith nodded, “down to business. I like that. We’re here about your son.”
Carl stiffened a bit and saw requisite response, Smith’s eyes narrowing and a hand drifting closer to the beltline. “What about him?” Neutral voice, give nothing away.
Smith appraised, saw no bad intent, and relaxed. A bit. “Well, Mr. Henderson, it seems he may have gotten himself into a little trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“The usual, Mr. Henderson,” Smith affected boredom, examining a fingernail with one eye while the other stayed on Carl’s arm. “May I call you 'Carl,' Mr. Henderson?”
“What kind of trouble?”
“Ah,” Smith smiled again. A smiler, this one. “Okay, well, it seems your son has run up some rather substantial debt.”
“He doesn’t have any money.”
“Precisely, Mr. Henderson!” Smith laughed with real humor this time. “Which is why he’s in debt.”
“He doesn’t have any money to spend to get into debt, and doesn’t have any cards to run up any debt with.” More precise, that, telling Smith you’ve got the wrong family, so go away.
Didn’t work. “Kids,” Smith was amused, shaking his head, “you think you’ve got them under control, but they surprise you. Somehow get a card without you knowing it. From someone on campus,” Smith waved a vague hand towards Junior’s school.
Okay.
“And next thing you know,” Smith was back on the fingernail, “they’re getting people’s attention with the things they do—buying liquor and big meals at restaurants with lots of their friends and even a stranger or two they just invite along and they start talking and you hear things.” Pause. “Interesting things.”
Carl said nothing.
“And next thing you know,” back on Carl now, “my Bureau gets a call. And here we are.”
Silence.
Carl waited, expecting any moment for a van to pull up and uniforms to pour out and it would be ugly and loud and quick. But no.
Preliminaries.
“So how much does he owe?” Carl stayed on Smith.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Smith waved a dismissive hand, “not an issue for us. One I’m sure you can take care of yourself. But, other things, now.” Smith blinked once.
Carl said nothing.
They stood like that, tableau, maybe a minute, until Smith nodded and smiled and gestured at gorilla and they backed out of the yard and into the sedan, Smith still smiling and still on Carl the whole time. The sedan started and slowly pulled away. Carl gave them another minute and then walked out to the middle of the street, noting the curtains dropping and what cars were where, then walked back inside.
Junior was sitting at the kitchen table, head in hands. Carl sat opposite him. “Talk,” he said.
