The First Immortal

by Matt Elam

  For a split second, Jinx saw Patricia’s entire demeanor change. She did a fine job of controlling it and getting it back to normal, but Jinx saw it.

  “Oh,” said Sawyer, clearing her throat subtly.

  “You are familiar with this person, Jo, DA Sawyer?” said von Lector.

  “Ah, yes. He’s consulted with our agency once or twice,” Sawyer said flatly.

  “I see,” said von Lector.

  When I pulled up to the parking lot of the crime scene, I spotted Donnie, Patti, and a couple suits I didn’t recognize. I stood up and tossed my fedora into the passenger seat. I got to the tape and waited for Donald to see me. I lifted my hands up, palms facing me.

  “Heeeeeeere’s Johnny!” I said in my best Ed McMahon voice.

  The group did not seem amused.

  Five

  A NICE YOUNG FELLOW named Officer Briggs lifted the tape for me. I ducked underneath and made my way to the group. It was as cold as Eskimo balls out tonight.

  “Mr. Jo,” nodded Detective Jinx in a professional manner.

  I wanted to tease him about being so formal, but there were people I wasn’t familiar with present, so I simply returned the gesture. Then I got a glimpse of Patti Sawyer. Man, how she had filled out over the years.

  “You look amazing, Patti,” I said.

  “That’s District Attorney Sawyer,” she said firmly, sticking out her hand.

  “Yes, of course.” I shook her hand. “DA Sawyer.”

  Patti was a sophomore at JFK High when Donnie and I were seniors. She was such a gangly and insecure thing back in those days. Some of the kids used to call her Olive Oyl. She was always smart, however. Now she was smart and beautiful. I couldn’t tell if she hated me or had a thing for me. It’s always a fifty-fifty bet when it came to me and dames.

  “Are you going to introduce us, Detective?” said Peter von Lector.

  “Oh, yes. Agent von Lector, this is John Jo. Agent von Lector works for the Global Security Initiative.”

  Von Lector extended his hand. “And what do you do, Mr. Jo?”

  “I’m a Private Investigator,” I said.

  The man’s face went from curiosity to contempt in the snap of a finger. He turned slightly toward his constituents and said something that sounded Germanic. Some of the GSI personnel chuckled. I looked into the man’s eyes. I saw him.

  “So, where’s the stiff?” I said.

  “What? Are you guys, twins?” said Sawyer, shaking her head in mock disgust. She and Jinx led me to the covered corpses on the ground. Von Lector and his lackeys followed.

  I had worked with Dr. Samuel Kwok once or twice before. He was filling me in on what he and his team had found thus far. I did my best to half-listen as Kwok pattered on about the case. I was taking everything in with my own senses, making mental notes here and there. Then I smelled it.

  “Doc,” I interrupted. “Can you open this guy’s eye lid for me, please?” I was kneeling beside one of the badly burnt bodies.

  The good doctor obliged. I took out a hand held magnifier to look into the lens. I had Donald hold his phone over the magnifier to get some light on it.

  “It appears your PI now thinks he’s Sherlock Holmes, Detective Jinx,” scoffed von Lector.

  I could feel Donald’s body language tightening up.

  The yellowish substance in the aqueous humor confirmed it.

  “What is it, Johnny?” said Jinx.

  I wanted to tell him. I did, but bit my lip instead, stood up, and moved on. That’s when I spotted it. It was a half-yard away from the black Bentley. I made my way toward it.

  “Whose car is this?”

  “It belonged to one of the dead LHK Tigers. Why?” inquired Jinx.

  I squatted beside the right front edge of the car and looked down. “You see how this area of the asphalt is lighter,” I said sketching a footprint with my index finger. Jinx came over next to me and bent at the waist to take a closer view. His knees were shot. Two tours and seven years in the Marine Corps will do that to a person.

  “Where?” said Jinx, squinting at the area I was highlighting.

  I suggested he use his magnifier app on his mobile. He swiped a few things on his screen and then held the camera over the piece of evidence I just found.

  “How in the hell could you see that!”

  This made Patricia Sawyer and the GSI members walk over.

  “Well, detective,” I said matter-of-factly. “It’s kind of like von Lector’s hairline. At first glance, it looks all bald and shiny. But if you look really hard, and maybe use magnification, you’ll see a trace of hairs scattered here and there.”

  Pure silence.

  I didn’t even have to look at the man to know he was turning lobster red.

  “Jinx. I don’t have to take this abuse from this amateur!” von Lector roared.

  Donald Jinx was now upright, trying to calm von Lector down. Von Lector said a bunch of other stuff, but honestly, I wasn’t listening because I just saw another possible clue. I went over to it.

  “I’m serious, Detective Jinx, I will go to my superior officers with this…this disrespect for order and tell them this type of unprofessionalism is commonplace within your department.”

  “Listen, Agent von Lector. I’ll talk to Mr. Jo and he will apologize. I guarantee it,” promised Detective Jinx.

  “I should hope so, Detective, for your sake and - ”

  “Hey, shut the fuck up for a second!” I said.

  Now that really took the wind out of Donald’s sails. Until I sprung the news, that is.

  “There’s a fifth man. He’s bleeding but he’s out there.”

  Six

  I SPRUNG TO MY feet and peered out into the crowd. Yes, it was late, but there were still a couple dozen people - mixed with the media - that looked on from behind the yellow tape.

  Jinx stood by my side. “How do you know there’s a fifth person?”

  I said nothing. I scanned the onlookers from left to right and back again.

  “Johnny?” said Jinx.

  “There was a trickle of blood that must have mixed with oil on the ground. Its placement was in line with the size ten footprints I found. It suggests another person was there.”

  “Yeah, but how do we know that those footprints and blood don’t belong to one of the deceased?”

  My eyes fixed in on a figure to my right. Standing behind a row of spectators. “My three o’ clock. Black hood,” I said. The guy had to be twenty to twenty-five yards away. Jinx traced the angle.

  “I got him. What makes you think he’s our guy?”

  And in perfect cadence, the guy in the hood stood straight up, back-pedaled two steps, and began running down Eisenhower.

  Jinx and I gave chase. I hurdled the crime scene tape while he had to stop to lift the tape up and go underneath. I needed to get there before him or anyone else. I couldn’t let this guy live.

  “Rodriguez! Let’s move!” yelled Jinx over his shoulder to Detective Richard Rodriguez, who was squatting over the blood sample that I had just found.

  The hooded figure sprinted down Eisenhower and then took a left across Thirty-Second Street. It was almost three in the morning, but there was a surprisingly large amount of traffic. The guy almost got clipped by a car. That car hit its brakes and went skidding up and over a curb. The guy turned just in time to see another oncoming vehicle. This time, he leaped over it like a large cat, clearing the damn thing by a couple feet. I ran behind the car, dipping my shoulder and throwing a rip move past its tail end.

  “Johnny!” Jinx was right behind me, running into the street.

  Damn, I thought to myself, for two reasons. For one, he must have seen the perpetrator clear the car like a super freak, and two, Donnie, as beat up as his body was, could still run - at times - like a hundred meter sprinter.

  The unidentified man made his way to the alley now, which led to the Sammy Davis Jr. Plaza.

  It’s now or never.

  I took two blue
metallic orbs from my coat pocket roughly the size of Tai Chi balls. Unbeknownst to me, Donnie had drawn his sidearm and was six feet behind me.

  “Stop! Police!” Jinx said, in full stride.

  The guy in the hood kept humping it.

  I grabbed an orb in each hand and without breaking top speed, chucked one of them at the level of his head. As if utilizing a sixth sense, the hooded man leapt to a wall and stuck to it like some kind of demon cat or mutant lizard.

  “What the fuck -” blurted Jinx, stopping dead in his tracks.

  The first orb I tossed exploded into brilliant orange and red flames. Jinx cursed again, completely caught off guard.

  The mutant man leapt to the adjacent building, and then back over to the previous one, propelling forward with each jump. I took the remaining orb and placed it in my throwing hand, slowing down for one last shot, and like clockwork, he seemed to sense it. He reversed his direction and began coming toward us, using the walls of each building as his springboard.

  Jinx began unloading his magazine. He was in a shoot-first-and-ask-what-the-fuck-that was-later mindset.

  The mutant man moved with such precision and speed that Jinx’s bullets were always a hair too early or too late. Damn you Little Hong Kong and your ten round max magazine initiative. He was almost out of bullets.

  The mutant was twelve feet away from my position. I bent more at the knees and readied myself.

  Nine feet.

  Six feet.

  I set my jaw.

  The mutant pushed hard against a corner of the wall and straightened his body like an arrow, heading right for my chest.

  Right at the last possible second, I slid to my back like a baseball player stealing third base, and reached for the man’s sweatshirt.

  The man landed on all fours, got to his feet, and accelerated toward Thirty-Second Street once more.

  Jinx fired and missed. He was out.

  As for me, I did a kip up, spun around, and launched my last orb toward the man. It went off against a row of small garbage cans, missing my intended target.

  The hooded mutant made it into the street. He pivoted to face us. Maybe it was to see who he’d just bested.

  Whatever it was, I didn’t wait. With my left hand in my pocket, I pressed my thumb against the detonator button.

  The small strip of C-4 that I had managed to place in his sweatshirt ignited, and in an instant, his body was blown into a thousand pieces all over the city street.

  Seven

  VIKTOR’S CAFÉ. THE THREE of us sat in a booth at the back by the restrooms. Donald and Patricia sat together on one side, and I sat across from them. We ordered coffees and water all around. We had been there forty minutes, and most of the conversation had to do with the case. It was really Don and Patti going back and forth on their perspective on things, requirements of each representative department, et cetera. I kicked back and enjoyed my hot cup of Joe.

  Patti put her hand to her mouth to cover a yawn. That shit was contagious because both Donnie and I found ourselves yawning a few seconds later.

  “I need to go home and get some rest,” said Patricia. She slid her legs out from under the table and stood up.

  “Well, boys. This is not exactly how I imagined our reunion would be.”

  We both laughed.

  “Let me walk you to your car,” I said. I heard no objections from her, so we continued through the café, and out through the front door.

  We made our way through the parking lot to her car. “You may be subpoenaed to testify,” said Patricia.

  “I will be there.”

  “Don’t skip town,” she said, smiling.

  “Why would I leave this paradise,” I said, raising my arms up for effect.

  “Yeah, right, she scoffed, shaking her head in disgust. “Little Hong Kong, today, is not the same city we grew up in, Johnny.”

  You have no idea, I thought to myself.

  But I loved hearing her say my name.

  “So, you seeing anyone?” I blurted out.

  “What?”

  I can tell I caught her off guard.

  “Nooo,” she said hesitantly. “This job does not allow for much down time.”

  “I’m just saying,” I went on. “I’m truly impressed with the person you’ve become, DA Sawyer.”

  “Patti,” she said warmly. “And thank you.”

  Even exhausted with wind-blown hair and slightly red eyes, she was still breathtaking.

  I opened the driver’s side door for her; she thanked me, and climbed in.

  “Will I see you again?” I asked.

  “Well, you’re most likely going to have to testify in this case, if I can ever build one,” she said.

  “That’s not what I meant, Patti.”

  “Oh,” she said, comprehending my question now. “You seem to see a lot of girls, Mr. Jo. I’m not sure where I’d fit in.”

  I swear, sometimes LHK was like that ancient soap opera: Peyton Place. Everyone knew everyone else’s business.

  “There’s always time for you, Patti Cakes.”

  She laughed loudly. “Oh my God! Don’t you ever call me that again!”

  Patricia pulled out of the lot and I watched until her car disappeared from sight. It was at that moment that I realized what I had done back in high school was justified. And if I had it to do over again, I would have done the exact same thing. Fuck yeah, I would.

  Now it’s time to get out of the cold and jump into the frying pan. Things between Donnie and me were about to heat up.

  Eight

  WE SAT IN SILENCE in that booth, sitting across from one another for about five minutes. We both drank our coffee and looked everywhere but at each other. I never really had the patience for drama, even if I was the cause of it. I chose to get the ball rolling.

  “So, Patti looks great, huh?”

  “Do you want to tell me what the hell happened tonight?”

  “With what?” I asked, innocently.

  “What the hell do you mean with what?” hissed Jinx.

  “Look, this is your case, man. You called me, remember.”

  “Yes, that’s right. It’s my case, dammit. And you come in with some kind of freaky bionic vision and -”

  “Bionic vision?” I said, chuckling.

  “Yes. Bionic. Seeing things on the ground that no one else could pick up. I would call that abnormal.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  “And the flying spider, monkey guy? Climbing. No, running on walls?”

  “More lizard-like. It was like he had suction cups for hands. It has to do with London dispersion forces or something like that.”

  Jinx was seething. He leaned forward with both forearms on the table. “Does this shit seem funny to you, Jo?”

  The truth is, Donnie was right. Shit was getting weird, and my abilities were changing.

  “No. It’s not funny.”

  “And those things? Those grenade things you were throwing?”

  “Ah, those,” I waved it off. “Those were just firecrackers I got in Chinatown.”

  “Man, those weren’t firecrackers,” said Jinx.

  “Well, you know? I got em’ in the Kowloon district. Remember? They have some stuff there that make M-80s look like confetti poppers.”

  “I almost lost my shit today, man. I haven’t had a PTSD episode for almost a year. But those projectiles though?.” Jinx put his hands together and pressed them against his face. “And that explosion that killed him?”

  “You were standing right by me,” I said. “I didn’t notice anything that could have triggered it.”

  Jinx sighed and shook his head. “Me neither.”

  At that moment, I felt lower than dirt. I had to be the biggest asshole in the history of all assholes. Donald had been my best friend since the first grade. In fact, he was my first friend. All the other kids either ignored me or teased me about being overweight, but not Donnie. He was ride or die. He would have taken a bullet for me, and I would h
ave for him without question.

  I clenched my fist under the table.

  I’m going to tell him the truth. “Listen, uh, Donnie I -”

  “Do you remember when you first got that full ride offer from Stanford?” said Jinx, his voice softening up now.

  I nodded slowly.

  “Man, that was one of the happiest days of my life.”

  “Donnie, listen,” I said, trying not to get choked up.

  “I know. Crazy, right?” Jinx continued. “Why would I be so happy that you were getting a full-ride football scholarship to Stanford? A Pac-12 school?” He whistled. “But I was, man. Happy that my boy made it to the top and out of LHK.”

  He looked down at his empty coffee cup.

  “The only other times I’ve felt that much joy is when I married Nadine and when our two girls were born.”

  And that’s why I couldn’t tell him. He had too much to lose. By bringing him into my secret life, I put him, his wife, and Sasha and Lilly in danger by association.

  “You have a beautiful family, brother.”

  “Yeah, and they love you too,” said Jinx, with a big smile. “The girls are always asking: ‘When’s Uncle Johnny coming over?’”

  We hung out for another fifteen minutes. Just made small talk. Our relationship was, well, different since I left the NFL and made myself unavailable. But it was good seeing him. It reminded me of who I was fighting for. And if necessary, who I would die for.

  Nine

  IT WAS HALF PAST noon when she walked through the Ace Private Investigators door. She was dressed to kill, all legs, and had skin like a porcelain doll. My legs were crossed and draped over my desk when she entered, which I quickly rectified. I sat straight in my chair and was attempting to stand when she stopped me.

  “Please don’t get up, Mr. Jo.”

  She had a great voice. Did I mention she had a nice pair of legs, too?

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “Have we met before?”

  “No, but you come highly recommended?”

  That was a first. I was a pretty good football player back in the day and my kung fu was even better, but my PI skills weren’t exactly earth shattering in the ten years I’d been working in the industry.