“Am I boring you?” Jim’s voice was low and held a note of danger.
Mark snapped his gaze back to him. “No, sir.”
“We’ve tried to give you a break. Did you notice the extra food? The time outside? Those perks don’t come for free. Now you have to pay for them. You have to give up some information. Some real information.”
The comment was straight out of his dream. Somehow, even without the camera, his dream was going to come true. Mark locked his knees to keep from sinking to the floor. They insisted he give up something he didn’t have to give.
***
Jessie strapped her shoulder holster on before slipping her arms into her jacket. The pictures from Mark’s camera lay on her dresser, and she picked one up. She had already shown her sister the ones from the recital and just said that the group shots hadn’t turned out. It was true, so she didn’t feel guilty and there was no need to mention these images.
She tucked the two of Mark into her purse along with the negatives. There was a camera shop on her way to work and she planned to talk to them during lunch, if she had a chance. If nothing else, she wanted to enlarge the photos. There might be something in them that would clue her in to when they had been taken. The negative listed them as the twenty-third and twenty-fourth frames, but that couldn’t be right. They had to have been on the film and she had just used up the rest photographing the recital. The frame counter had said zero, but it was an old camera. She hoped the person at the camera store could tell her something about it.
The morning dragged and Jessie kept glancing at the clock. It was a beautiful day. School had just let out for the summer and, she heard children playing at the park across the street. The clock inched towards noon, and Jessie pulled the photos out of her purse to take another look. Even though she had studied them a dozen times already, she hoped each time that something would turn up and show that the pics were only from a costume party or even some kinky sexual thing. She felt her face heat up and glanced at Dan at the other desk, hoping he didn’t notice. She shouldn’t have looked because he caught her eye.
“What do you have there?” He rolled his chair across the gap between them.
Jessie turned the photos face down and bent to get her purse. “Oh, nothing, just some photos I…found.”
“Yeah? So why are you hiding them?” Dan grinned and made a ‘give me’ gesture. “Come on, show me.”
Jessie sighed and ran a hand through her hair, letting the strands settle. “Okay, but I’m warning you, they aren’t easy to look at.”
Dan’s grin faltered and he hesitated as his hand closed over the photos. With a questioning glance at Jessie, he flipped the pictures over. The first was the one of Mark seated on the floor, his knees bent and shoulders pulled forward at a painful angle. If Dan knew who it was, he didn’t let on, he just studied the photo for a minute before moving onto the second one. His eyes widened and then he shook his head, his mouth set in a hard line. “Where’d you get these?”
Jessie shrugged. “I used one of Mark’s cameras to take pictures at my niece’s recital Saturday. Remember I told you about how he had been evicted and everything was on the lawn? The camera was in with his stuff. When I picked the photos up yesterday, those two were in with the pictures of the little girls dancing.”
“You think these were taken before he…before he was arrested?” Dan rarely spoke of Mark now. There was no reason to, since the guy wasn’t always intruding in their cases, but once he had called Mark a poor bastard. It had been said with regret, like he knew something, but he had never elaborated.
Leaning over to see the photos again, she shook her head. “It makes sense. I mean, obviously, I didn’t take them, but according to the negatives, these were the last two on the roll of film.” Jessie sat back and pulled the envelope with the negatives out of her purse. “See?”
“That’s weird.” Dan skimmed through the negatives. “Maybe they cut them wrong?”
“Could be. I’m heading to a camera shop in a few minutes to see if they can tell me anything.” She stood and held her hand out. “But, even if the images were on the film before I used the camera, what are they pictures of? Who is making him do that?”
Dan handed her the pictures and she traced a finger over Mark’s pain-glazed eyes in the second photo. “Look at this, his hands are still shackled and it looks like he can’t even raise them high enough to get proper leverage.”
“It’s a stress position.” Dan rolled his chair back and stood, grabbing his jacket off the back. “I’d like to come with you, if you don’t mind.”
Jessie pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sure, but what’s a stress position?”
“Just what it sounds like. It’s a form of persuasion used by some governments to get prisoners to give up information.” Dan angled his head towards the door. “Come on. I’m curious now. Maybe someone planted those pictures in the packet somehow.”
Jessie went ahead of him down the hallway. “What if they weren’t planted?” So far, she had refused to consider the story Mark had told her after his initial arrest. That was crazy. She could only surmise that he’d been desperate to concoct something that outlandish. That was the only logical explanation.
***
“Wow, that’s wild.” The guy examined the negatives and pictures. “These negatives definitely came off the same roll of film. They were processed together, all the cuts on the film strips line up. They physically came from the same roll of film, and see where the film winds around the take-up spool in the camera?” He pointed to the square holes at the bottom of the negatives and continued, “Every fifth one has a tiny notch in it. The notch is on the second picture as well as the ones from the recital. I bet if I look at the camera you took the pictures with, I’ll find a small defect on one of the teeth that pulls the film through the camera.”
“I have the camera right here.” Jessie dug into her purse and handed the young man Mark’s camera. She noted his name tag. Gary.
Gary’s eyes lit up. “Cool. I’m not sure of the make, but it’s old. Very old.” He turned the camera this way and that, skimming his fingers over the textured body. “It’s in good condition too. It was probably one of the first thirty-five millimeter still cameras.” Beaming, he opened the back. “Yep, there’s a tiny flaw in one of the teeth on the wheel. See the sliver of metal sticking out?” The young man laid the strips of film out on the counter in order. “Right here.” He tapped the edges of the strips as he kept a silent count. “The notch is on every fifth negative and this negative falls exactly in sequence. These photos definitely came off the end of this roll of film.”
Jessie and Dan leaned across the counter. There was no doubt. Jessie straightened and caught Dan’s eye. Now what? He shrugged.
“Where’d you get the camera anyway?” Gary asked, then bent to get something beneath the counter.
“It’s not mine. It belongs to a…friend of mine.” Jessie ignored Dan, knowing that if she looked at him now, he would be grinning at her.
“Oh. Well, I can’t tell you how those bizarre photos got on your film, but I have another roll of film here. You could try it out and see what happens. In all likelihood, it was just some crazy glitch.”
Nodding, Jessie pulled some cash from her wallet. “I think I’ll do that. Meanwhile, would it be possible to get those two photos blown up to eight by tens?”
Gary made a face. “Sure, that’s no problem, but what in the world for?”
Dan leaned an elbow on the counter and smiled. “It’s police business. You understand.”
Gary’s eyes rounded. “Oh.” He rang up the film, his demeanor more subdued. “I’ll get right to work on those enlargements. Should be ready by tomorrow.”
Jessie smiled. “That would be great, Gary.”
***
Jessie picked up the enlargements the next day on her lunch hour. She waited until she was back in the office to open the envelope. Bracing herself, she sat and pulled the pictures o
ut. The larger pictures showed more detail. Mark’s face was bathed in sweat, and his hands looked swollen in the cuffs. In the second picture, she saw the muscles in his arms bunched. He appeared thinner than she remembered, and his orange t-shirt was plastered to his body. Across the back, was a stenciled number. It was prison issue. That much was obvious. But which prison? Booted feet in the corner had camouflage pants tucked into the top. That meant military.
Dan entered, a bag in his hands. “Want a burger? I figured you wouldn’t have time to get one, so I got an extra.”
She tried to smile, but didn’t quite manage one. “Sure. That sounds good. Thanks.”
He handed her the burger and wordlessly took the pictures from her. After a long moment, he sighed. “It’s not any easier looking at them like this, is it?” Dropping the pictures on her desk, he returned to his own and began eating his lunch.
She took a deep breath. “No. Harder in fact.” As difficult as it was to look at the pictures, it was time to think logically. The pictures looked real, but where had they come from? How had they ended up in the camera? She had just happened upon Mark’s stuff tossed onto the lawn of his building. Then had happened to use the camera for the recital and happened to use the photo store near her work. How could anyone have planned an elaborate scheme to plant the photos with the prior set of chance circumstances?
Jessie unwrapped the burger. The photos of Mark had been on the end of the roll. How had a man who had been gone for months wind up on the end of a roll of pictures that should have been faces of giggling little girls wearing tutus? If it was a con, it was insanely complex. Who would go to that much trouble and why?
Dan didn’t know what Mark had told her about dreams and pictures predicting the attacks on nine-eleven. It had been hard enough telling anyone that Mark had been arrested as a terrorist; there had been no need to add lunatic to the list, but what if pictures like these were what Mark had experienced?
“When I went to see Mark that last time, he told me something.”
His mouth full, Dan raised his eyebrows and took a gulp of his soft drink. “Yeah?”
She tucked her hair behind her ear and leaned an elbow on her desk as she turned to Dan. “He told me that he had a camera that took pictures of the future and that then he dreamed about what was in the pictures.” She stopped as she tried to recall exactly what Mark had told her. “Or maybe he had dreams first and then the pictures show up. I’m not sure.”
Swallowing a bite, Dan wiped his lips with a napkin, and Jessie couldn’t help noticing that the corners of his mouth twitched.
“Really? That’s…interesting.” He tilted his head to the side with a half-shrug. “So? Taylor was always a bit odd. It sounds like something he’d say.” He dipped a fry into a pile of ketchup and pointed it at her. “Does that have something to do with why he was arrested?”
“It had almost everything to do with it. He said that he had photos of the Towers and a dream. I guess he called a bunch of government agencies the morning of the attacks to try to warn someone.” Jessie picked up her burger and took a bite. She wasn’t hungry, but it smelled good. Her coffee was cold, but she took a drink anyway to wash down the food. “What if he was telling the truth?”
Dan balled up his wrapper and tossed it in the wastebasket. “Aw, come on, Jess. I know you liked the guy, but I think you’re grasping at straws.”
Jessie snatched the photos and waved them. “Then where in creation did these come from?” With a snap of her wrist, she let the pictures slide onto the desk then stood and paced to the window. Of course he didn’t believe it. Why should he? It was crazy. Drawing a deep breath, she turned, arms crossed. “Look, I know it sounds…improbable. But what if it’s true? I didn’t believe it until these pictures showed up.” She flung an arm out, gesturing at the photos. “You got a better explanation?”
Dan slouched in his chair, but he had lost the sarcastic look, and instead, bit his thumb as he contemplated the pictures covering Jessie’s burger. “Well, you could test it.”
“How?”
“Take some more pictures.” He grinned. “See what develops.”
She couldn’t help smiling at his bad pun, then sat down in her chair as she thought about his suggestion. “I guess I could do that.” What if another horrible scene turned up? She shivered and hoped she was wrong about this.
“Did you dream?”
Jessie pushed the awful mental pictures of what might show up out of her mind. “Did I dream?”
“Yeah. You said Taylor told you he had dreams that went along with the photos. You have pictures, but did you dream?” He pointed his chin towards the photos, “Did those scenes turn up in your dreams?”
Jessie moved the pictures off her lunch and shook her head. “No. At least, if I did, I don’t recall any.” With a shudder, she continued, “These would have been nightmares. I would have remembered.” Without looking at the them again, she put them in the envelope. She pushed the photos back into their envelope.
“Well, I have to go interview some witnesses from that incident yesterday.” He burped and pushed out of his chair with a groan. “I guess it’s back to work. Are you going to finish that initial report?”
Jessie took a last bite and swept the crumbs off her desk with the side of her hand. “Yeah. And thanks for lunch.”
CHAPTER TEN
A friend, when questioned, said, “Mark’s a great guy. We used to go have a few beers, shoot pool, or go biking. Then, a few years ago, he got super busy. Guess his business picked up. I gave up calling him.”
It was the same story with other friends, but, if Jim’s memory was accurate, Taylor’s business, while growing and successful, hadn’t taken a huge jump that would explain the sudden inability to see old friends. Was he too busy because he had other duties?
Jim tapped a pen on the yellow legal pad at his elbow. Notes in his precise hand filled the top half of the paper. Taylor’s file lay open, individual reports spread out over his desk. He re-read the transcript of Mohommad Aziz’s interrogations. The guy had really done a number on Mark Taylor. The man had told his team of interrogators that Taylor had volunteered to take photos of Chicago skyscrapers and the Chicago Board of Trade as possible targets. Details were sketchier than Jim would have liked. When asked why Taylor would do something like that, as there was no documentation that Taylor had ever been a sympathizer, Aziz had said it was greed and that Taylor had demanded fifty-thousand dollars for his photos.
Jim set aside the transcript and pulled out Taylor’s financial records. His debt had been moderate, a car loan and a small business loan, both in good standing with regular payments. The photographer had paid the appropriate taxes on his business, and his spending matched his reported income, with a modest amount set aside in stocks and savings.
There were no big purchases, no large deposits, and no transfers of money. In short, no red flags. If he had been paid fifty thousand dollars, he hadn’t spent any of it. Jim scratched his neck. Maybe Taylor buried it all in a trunk in his backyard.
Buried beneath the financial records was the very odd file that the Chicago police had on Taylor. It contained six reports of Taylor being caught in dangerous situations, but what was strange was he had been cleared of any wrong doing in every instance. In fact, he had played a key factor in most of the situations coming out better than they could have. Better than they should have.
In one case, a car with two children inside had begun rolling down an embankment and ended up in a pond. Luckily for the kids, Taylor had been able to open the door and reach in and pull both kids out, tossing them onto a grassy embankment. The car had gone twenty feet into the pond and sank in deep, murky water. The kids would surely have drowned. Taylor had been mildly injured when his jacket caught on the door latch and he had been dragged. The car hit a bump, according to Taylor’s statement in the report, and his jacket had ripped free.
Jim set the report down. Four others had similar outcomes, but the fifth one was
different. It’s the one that intrigued him. In that case, Taylor had been shot while attacking an undercover police officer. Oddly, it wasn’t the officer who shot him, but instead, a member of the street gang the officer had been trying obtain evidence on. Taylor’s attack had saved the officer from being hit. Taylor hadn’t been so lucky and had been shot in the left thigh.
So, why was a clean-cut guy like Taylor hanging out on street corners in a drug-infested neighborhood? Jim wondered if he had been there trying to make a buy, but no reports listed him as a drug user and his drug screen upon arrest had come back negative. None of Taylor’s friends or acquaintances mentioned drugs when they had been interviewed. Besides, he’d come across many addicts in his career and nothing in Taylor’s behavior even hinted that the man was a user.
Tossing his pen down, Jim sat back, his hands clasped behind his head. It just didn’t add up. What would make this guy join up with a terrorist group? His parents were middle America and raised their son in a loving and supportive home. They were practically a Norman Rockwell painting come to life. Neighbors remembered Taylor as the kid who was first to knock on their door to shovel after a snowstorm, or playing baseball in the corner lot with the other boys. The most trouble he had been in was when he had been caught smoking a joint behind a neighbor’s garage when he was fifteen.
He skimmed the transcript from the half dozen phone calls Taylor had made to various government agencies on the day of the attacks. At the bottom of the page was a reference number for the audio recordings. They hadn’t listened to the actual calls that Taylor had made as they had read the transcripts, but now Jim was curious. He called his secretary and requested that she get a copy of the tapes.
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