by Aiden James
“The ‘Stu Johnson’ I work for has been with us for only twenty-two years, and would’ve been a kid practically fresh out of college if he was in fact the FBI agent who set your grandpa off so badly back then. It’s just not possible. Besides, I’d be willing to bet we’ve had a lot of other guys with that name who’ve worked for our agency over the years.”
Peter straightened in his chair, keeping his hands folded together just beyond his cup of coffee, in affect corralling it with his arms. If not for the strong sincerity exuding from him, Jack would’ve lumped him right then with the life insurance salesmen who used to call on his grandfather.
“You’d like the man I work for, I guarantee it,” Peter continued. “He’s a great guy, and one of the most compassionate men I’ve ever been around. He took me under his wing when I began my career, after my father introduced us down in New Orleans. Then, after his promotion to our Richmond office, he recruited me specifically to assist him with the ‘unusual’ cases we have that deal with the paranormal. He has the same level of passion for this kind of thing I have, and is the one who told me you and your brother were here. In fact, he arranged for this very interview. I’m sure you’ll find him to be a powerful ally for you and your family.”
Jack wasn’t sure what to think of this information on Stu Johnson. On the one hand, he trusted Peter’s earnestness, knowing the agent believed in what he told him. But on the other hand, he wasn’t so sure the ‘Stu Johnson’ who kept his grandfather prisoner in his own house for three months was in fact a different man. Peter’s argument that his boss would’ve been too young for such an assignment didn’t convince Jack in the least. The strongest evidence for this sat across the table in the person of Peter himself. Jack knew the man was at most a few years older than he, and had been handed a fairly high-profile investigation. Even the senior agents present earlier deferred to the much younger agent from their Richmond office the very instant he entered the interrogation room.
Jack’s stomach began to rumble loudly, so he decided the issue wasn’t worth worrying about.
“Perhaps you’re right,” he said. “As far as the trip to Richmond is concerned, I’d like to do that. I’ll need to check with Jeremy first to make sure it’s okay with him.”
“I certainly understand,” said Peter. “I’ll get the ball rolling to get you both out of here shortly, after I share a few things with you.”
He leaned in closer, just enough to show the importance of what he was about to tell him.
“I’ll start with a curious item or two,” he said, his voice quieted. “Then I’ll wrap it up with some current events I want you to keep in mind as you return home. First, I’ve got another interesting tidbit concerning the tool shed. Since you haven’t been back to Carlsdale lately, I doubt you know about this.
“Malcolm Donohue apparently felt it was an eyesore, though surely he knew something of its strange history when he bought your place. My guess is he didn’t know near as much as we do, since he tried to move it. The structure is anchored in bedrock, Jack, which you might not be aware of. After considerable effort and expense, Mr. Donohue obtained the means to remove it from the property. No sooner than his people dug it up, loaded it onto a flatbed truck, and then hauled it away, the mysterious structure somehow made it back to the exact spot where it had rested before.”
“You’re kidding?” Jack felt envious of whoever saw this happen.
“No, it’s true,” said Peter. “Mr. Donohue had guards stationed on the property, perhaps related to the gunman you and Jeremy encountered. They followed the truck as it turned onto Lelan’s Way, and before they made it back to their post, they saw the tool shed or whatever this structure really is sitting in its original spot. It’s still there today. Mr. Donohue decided to leave it where it is, covering it with a facade in the ‘Honey Bear’ children’s section of his amusement park.”
“That’s amazing,” Jack whispered, shaking his head as he pictured this. “More like fucking unbelievable!”
“Yeah, it is,” Peter agreed. “I thought you’d get a kick out of that.”
He grew silent, his expression serious.
“Since the moment I found out you were here, I’ve debated whether or not to tell you what I have on my mind,” he said finally. “It could potentially piss off some of my colleagues, I suppose. But it’s something you really should be aware of. Who knows? Perhaps the bureau will see it from my perspective, that letting you in on some events headed our way may actually help us figure out how to effectively deal with them.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Do you remember hearing about the luxury cruise ship, The Escapade, that went down near the West African coastline early last week?”
“Yeah,” replied Jack, wondering what it had to do with their present discussion. “Only thirty-one people survived, according to the news reports.”
“Thirty-two…actually.” Peter cleared his throat before continuing. “The official report? The ship’s structure fell apart, and as a result, the vessel sank within a minute. Six survivors, the only ones on deck at the time, reported to the Moroccan authorities who handled the original investigation that a massive structure gleaming in the moonlight rammed through the middle of The Escapade, effectively cutting it in half. While frantically scurrying for their lives, they watched this ‘tower of gold’ clear the ship’s debris. It soon faded, vanishing within seconds, perhaps diving into the Atlantic Ocean’s darkest depths, the sinking halves of the ship being the only other proof for its existence.”
“I take it this tower was like the one I told you about tonight,” observed Jack, fearing the obvious answer.
“Yes, but there’s much more,” the agent advised. “Throughout the world there have been other sightings like this. The majority have taken place in rather remote areas with either poor news reporting facilities or minimal casualties, except for the cruise ship and another larger vessel. All in all, at this time we feel we have accurately identified eight of these magnificent towers on the move around the globe.”
“Eight??”
“Yes.” Peter sighed and picked up one of his original journals, paging to a bookmarked section with several tabs. “Perhaps the best way to explain this is to tell you a little about each individual tower. I just told you about the one that sliced through The Escapade, which was last sighted to the west of the Canary Islands off the coast of Morocco. We have reason to believe this one originated in Egypt near the Sphinx in the Sahara Desert. The other sightings of it have been described as a ‘towering golden windstorm in the sand’ as it crossed the African continent through Libya and Algeria before crossing Morocco on its way to the Atlantic Ocean.
“The next one’s also from Africa, although much further south. It apparently originated near the Congo River in Zaire, traveling to the continent’s west coast before adjusting its course toward the north. It reached the Atlantic Ocean along Africa’s western coastline, but re-entered the mainland as it cut a destructive path through the Ivory Coast and Guinea as a ‘shimmering golden hurricane’. It moved northwest from that point before disappearing into the Gulf of Guinea.
“We’ve confirmed two more of these things moving toward the west from the Middle East, after originally believing only one came from the region,” Peter advised. “The first originated in western Jordan near Jerusalem, crossing quickly through Israel and on into the Mediterranean Sea. We believe the second one started in Iraq near the city of Karbala, southwest of Baghdad. It traveled through Syria as it also headed to the Mediterranean. We have unconfirmed reports that this one’s travel path was witnessed by thousands of Iraqis, but the new government quickly moved in to eliminate any evidence confirming its existence. With the tense religious climate these days, something this amazing would cause a major uproar, both politically and culturally. In addition, we’ve just confirmed another report that this particular tower demolished a Turkish destroyer, killing nearly six hundred sailors before it disappeared.
“Both structures re-emerged side by side as they passed through the shallower waters of the Straits of Gibraltar on their way to the Atlantic Ocean. They move quickly, and disappear completely. Proof is hard to come by.”
He stopped for a moment, looking warily toward the wall to his left. When he turned back to Jack, he leaned in even closer.
“I need to speed this up, I’m afraid,” he said. “We’ve identified four other towers as well. One is traveling north from Peru and had already moved through Columbia about a week ago before it submerged itself within the Atlantic’s depths. Despite briefly losing track of it, we received recent confirmation from our intelligence sources that its present location is now somewhere along the western coastline of Cuba, and it could reach the Gulf of Mexico in the next day or so.
“Two other towers are presently in the Pacific Ocean. The first originated from either India or Burma. Our intelligence reports haven’t been able to pinpoint the exact starting point for this one yet. Observed last week on several occasions as it moved through the South China Sea, it then passed by the Philippine Islands.
“The seventh tower arose from China, most likely Mongolia. We feel certain it’s presently moving through the Pacific Ocean toward Mexico. The Chinese government managed to keep news of its existence a secret until it passed Peking on its way into Korea. Once it hit the water, a number of Shanghai fishermen in the East China Sea spotted it just south of Japan. Apparently, some of them followed from a safe distance until it disappeared in the Pacific. Interestingly, this one’s path is slightly off course from the others…at least for the moment”
Peter paused to finish his coffee, which had cooled since he poured it. Again, he glanced warily at the wall, reluctant to reveal anything further to Jack.
“That makes seven. Where’s the eighth one coming from?” asked Jack. When Peter didn’t immediately address his question, he pushed further. “The last one’s probably in Mississippi, right?”
“Yes,” said Peter, seemingly relieved he didn’t have to spell it out.
“So, is it safe to assume all of them are headed, at some point, for the States, and that they’re likely going to meet up in Mississippi?”
“Not bad, Jack. Not bad, at all!” Peter smiled again, though still apprehensive. “You’re close. But there’s one other thing involved here. The tower in Mississippi, which is surely the same one we’ve discussed this evening, is also on the move.”
“Really? Where’s it headed?”
“Oh, I suppose it’s picked an old familiar place to meet up with the others.”
Peter smiled, slightly impish, as if Jack should easily figure this out on his own. Once he realized this expectation, the answer became glaringly obvious.
“Alabama?” he blurted out. “They’re all headed there?”
“Yes,” confirmed Peter. “That’s the apparent destination, as far as our best analysts can tell.”
Jack shook his head, disbelieving what he heard.
“Obviously, we’ve got one hell of a problem on our hands,” said Peter, his tone worried. “My superiors are pretty nervous about the whole affair, and wondering who or what in the hell is directing these giant monoliths toward us. It’s tough to comprehend a phenomenon like this when there hasn’t been anything like it in modern times.
“To make matters worse, governments throughout the world—including the Middle Eastern powers we’re frequently at odds with and our tenuous allies—have been monitoring the path of the towers outside of the United States. Islamic extremists are already celebrating what they believe is Allah’s wrath and final judgment upon the United States, since they feel these structures have been sent by God to punish us for our imperialistic meddling in their affairs.”
Peter stood up and walked around the table. He looked down at Jack, who in turn silently studied the agent. The smile on Peter’s face faded. Some unaddressed issue simmered just below the surface.
“I’m going to cut to the chase and tell you why you and your brother were brought here in the first place,” said Peter, softly. “While it definitely has everything to do with Dr. Oscar Mensch, it has nothing to do with his death. We know you didn’t kill him, and we know Jeremy wasn’t involved in the professor’s death either.”
He moved away from the table and leaned up against the wall, staring down at the floor as if gathering his thoughts.
“Roughly within the same time frame that these sightings began, we have proof Dr. Mensch received a package from one of his longtime acquaintances in Pakistan,” he said. “I know you and your brother were very close to this man, but I can tell you he’s got some stuff in his past that would shock you. I’ve already given you far more information than my bosses would’ve liked, so I’m going to honor their wishes and not detail any of the shit he has dabbled in over the years. Suffice it to say, he was on the lam internationally when he re-emerged as a professor at the University of Alabama—please, don’t ask me to explain any of this right now, Jack—”
“I’m not,” said Jack, after raising his hand to interrupt him. “I just want to know what was sent to him. I mean, was it some deadly virus or chemicals, or the ingredients to a bomb?”
Peter returned to his chair as he studied Jack, a deeply perplexed look on his face.
“You have no idea, do you?” he finally asked him. “Surely you know it wouldn’t have to be a weapon to get him in trouble with the law, being that anything coming into our country from Pakistan is considered suspicious in nature. We don’t believe it is a weapon, at least not in the conventional sense. But, a strong case can be made for a weapon if it turns out these towers are on a hostile mission to our country. They suddenly appeared within days of Dr. Mensch receiving the mysterious package. If we only knew where to look for it, or better what to look for, we would be grateful.”
“I wish I could help you,” offered Jack, extremely puzzled by this information. “I honestly didn’t see any package when I found him bleeding in his living room, and he never mentioned anything like it to me in the hospital either. Do you know when he would’ve received it?”
“We’re fairly certain he got it two to three days prior to the beating he received in his home,” said Peter.
Jack didn’t have a single clue as to where the mysterious item or items could be. He was having a hard enough time picturing Dr. Mensch as a villain who may have intentionally set a terrible chain of events in motion. It would’ve been easier to believe the legendary Mother Theresa once lived her life as an international terrorist.
Aside from that, Genovene was on her way back to Alabama. Was it in response to Dr. Mensch’s invitation as well? The answer sat just outside the reach of his awareness, though too distracted at the moment to retrieve it. In frustration he abruptly stood up.
“This is all so fucked up!” he fumed, and started pacing back and forth behind his chair.
“I’m truly sorry to be the bearer of bad news in regard to your friend,” said Peter. “But hopefully you’ll thank me later, especially if you happen to think of anything that can help us. You will do that for me…won’t you, Jack?”
He stopped pacing long enough to nod he would.
“We believe the assassins responsible for Dr. Mensch’s torture and death were also looking for this package and its mysterious contents.”
Jack stopped and glared at Peter.
“So, you know who killed him?”
“Yes,” the agent replied evenly. “But, as it’s difficult to prove, I’m not at liberty to divulge the group’s identity. Let’s just say these folks have a vested religious and political interest in making sure whatever was taken from Pakistan is safely returned to that country. If we had been able to capture and detain these individuals, we wouldn’t have bothered to bring you and Jeremy out here. Although, as I said earlier, I’m grateful for the information you’ve shared. Maybe I can finally heal and find some lasting happiness, Jack.”
Jack nodded as he considered Peter’s words.
He returned to his seat, a wan smile on
his face.
“Why don’t we stop here and go get a bite to eat?” the agent suggested.
“I’d say that’s an excellent idea,” Jack agreed.
“All right. I’ll get yours and Jeremy’s clearances taken care of,” Peter advised.
He removed his eyeglasses and placed them inside his jacket, and then packed his duffel bag and attaché case. After he stood up he extended his hand for Jack to shake. This time, Jack readily grasped his hand, responding to Peter’s strong grip with his own.
“It’s been a pleasure to visit with you these past few hours,” he said. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy coming to Richmond with me if your brother consents.”
“I hope he does,’ said Jack. “I honestly mean that, Peter.”
The agent smiled warmly and Jack flashed a hopeful grin in response.
“It shouldn’t take us more than twenty minutes to get out of here, once the necessary paperwork is completed and signed,” Peter told him. He headed for the door with his duffel bag and attaché case. Just as he opened the door to leave, he turned to face Jack one last time. “The ride to Richmond takes a couple of hours, so you should get a good opportunity to look over the books on the way down there. If Jeremy is anxious to get home tonight instead, you’ll still have roughly an hour or so to view them on the way to the airport. Thanks again for your cooperation this evening.”
Peter lightly saluted him, and he nodded in return. A moment later, the heavy security door slammed shut with a resounding thud, leaving Jack alone in the interrogation room.
PART VIII
The Aftermath
Jack wandered aimless around the room, waiting for Agent McNamee’s return. Tempted to take a closer look at the wall Peter frequently glanced at, he then thought better of it, deterred by the mental image of judging eyes unseen.
Once he figured twenty minutes had passed, he returned to the table and turned his chair toward the door. He sat down, absently drumming his fingers on the tabletop. Irritation gave way to worry until suddenly the door swung open. The screech from the door’s weight made him jump up from his chair.
