DARK VISIONS

by James Byron Huggins

  Joe Mac’s lips moved, but there was no audible reply. Rather, he only seemed to be breathing in some deep sorrow. Then, finally, he moaned, “I’m sorry I got you into this, kid. I really am. It’s my fault.” He paused. “All of it.”

  “Joe, I was in this before you ever showed up at my desk,” Jodi said with more composure. “And without you I’d be dead already. But you’ve taught me how to stay alive. And I don’t think you need to apologize for that.”

  It was shocking that Rollins spoke from behind her. “I’m glad you two are all right,” he said as he closed the curtain.

  A thrill surged through Jodi, and she expected Joe Mac to come off the bed, but he didn’t even move. Then he calmly asked, “How many dead?”

  “Just the two officers,” said Rollins. “I’m sorry. Their families have been notified, and my guys are in on the manhunt. We found the cars a few blocks away. They’d been torched the same as the others. Crime Scene is working it, but I don’t have much hope for prints or anything else. How you feeling?”

  “Ah, it’s like getting hit by a sledgehammer.” Joe Mac revealed no indication of suspicion; Jodi tightened her lips. Then Joe Mac added, “Brightbarton told me you guys were gonna back us up.”

  Rollins glanced down as he shook his head. “We were only ten minutes from your position when it went down.” A pause. “They hit you pretty quick after Brightbarton got there, didn’t they?”

  “They hit me about five minutes after Steve got on site.”

  “How long were you guys there before he arrived?”

  “About ten, fifteen minutes.”

  “You think they followed you?”

  “I think they knew where we were going.”

  “How would they know where you were going?”

  Narrowly watching Rollins’s expression Jodi couldn’t determine whether he was being deceptive. Even with all her training to detect a lie she couldn’t read anything in his body language. He didn’t glance to the right, which would indicate he was accessing his imagination. He didn’t direct a stare, which would indicate what the polygraphists called “over emphasis,” also the sign of a lie. He didn’t look away, either, which everyone knew was avoidance. For all Jodi could determine, he was being honest.

  Or she just flat wasn’t any good at this stuff.

  Joe Mac said simply, “We’re compromised.”

  Rollins brow hardened, and he was silent for five seconds before he said, “Maybe. I’ll look into it. You guys were smart to wear your vests.”

  “I wasn’t hit,” said Jodi.

  “You were still smart to wear your vest.”

  “She was lucky,” muttered Joe Mac. “But I’ll take luck over smart any day of the week and twice on Sunday. Listen up, Rollins; someone blew our rendezvous in the park same as they blew our rendezvous with Montanus. Or Mrs. Morgan. But our security’s compromised. And until you run down who it is, we can’t keep going to people just to see them gettin’ blown away. We’re gonna have to lay low until you figure this out.”

  “I understand,” Rollins nodded. “I’ll put some men on each of you until we’re all convinced you’re safe. And I don’t think that’s gonna take long. I’m convinced we’re closing in on these guys. I don’t know who or how many, but I know they wouldn’t pull a stunt like this unless they’re in a panic. And that means we’re getting close.”

  “Good enough.”

  Rollins moved out the curtain but held it open, staring back. “I’ll have some guys take you home when you’re ready.”

  “Thanks.”

  When he was gone, Jodi walked to the drape to see him halfway across the emergency room. Then she glanced into flanking cubicles before she whispered, “What are you talking about? Rollins is the only one Brightbarton told! He’s the only one that could have set us up! And you’re gonna trust him to guard us? Are you insane?”

  “What’d I tell you about letting people hang themselves?” Joe muttered.

  “What about hanging us!”

  With a groan Joe Mac pushed himself up to a sitting position. “Look around and find my clothes. We ain’t waiting for no doctor’s release. And make it quick. We need to get to a safe place before they even know we’re gone.”

  Spinning on a heel, Jodi marched toward a nearby chair loaded with Joe’s clothes. She heard herself talking although she didn’t consciously choose the words.

  “Like my grandma used to say … I pray you get to heaven before the devil knows you’re dead …”

  * * *

  “Good lord!”

  Marvin half-caught Joe Mac as they stumbled together through the door of the palatial home of Professor Graven. In the same split-second, Jodi spun to search the road before she slammed the door and turned to see Marvin struggling to lower Joe Mac into a large leather chair positioned before a fireplace.

  Marvin glared at Jodi. “What happened!”

  “Haven’t you been watching the news?” Jodi gasped, swiping off her coat to throw it across a chair. “We were ambushed.”

  “By who?”

  “Who do you think?”

  “How would I know? Did anybody get killed?”

  “Two cops got killed.” Jodi said as she walked forward and collapsed on a matching leather couch. “Brightbarton and Joe got hit. But they were wearing vests. The bullets didn’t get through,”

  Marvin hesitated. “Weren’t the other cops wearing vests?”

  “We were all wearing vests, Marvin. But bullets don’t always hit you in the vest. Sometimes you get hit in the leg or the head, and then you’re dead.” Jodi raised her face, swallowing hard. “And, sometimes, even vests don’t work. But they worked today. That’s the only thing that matters.”

  Jodi lifted her hands before her face, fingers spread. “God,” she whispered, “my hands won’t stop shaking.”

  “It’s just adrenaline,” said Joe Mac from the chair. “It’ll go away in a little while. Trust me; it ain’t no big thing. You’d be crazy if you didn’t have adrenaline.”

  Marvin had been gazing between them, and asked Jodi, “How about a drink? Think that might help?”

  “Yeah. Make me a dirty martini, please. Dry. Very dry.” Jodi gazed around the opulent Tudor home. “Good grief. The professor lives large, doesn’t he?”

  The professor’s house wasn’t exactly in the country, but it wasn’t in the city, either. Rather, it was in that comfort zone that rich people inhabit when they’re far from the maddening crowd but still close enough to town to avoid inconvenience. It was located on a very well maintained two-lane road north of New York City proper and every estate was at least ten acres with manicured grounds and elegant mansions. Jodi was no good at real estate, but she estimated thirty or forty million for the whole shebang.

  A sweeping array of heads and the complete bodies of stuffed animals were hung on every wall and stood along every side of the vast front room. There was the head and shoulders of a gigantic boar, then the entire majestic body of a Siberian tiger, and a Grizzly bear that touched the ceiling. Two enormous curving ivory tusks of an elephant formed a circle around the mounted body of a gigantic black panther. And there were other, smaller trophies displayed which Jodi somehow sensed had been the last of their kind.

  Finally, she noticed an exquisitely designed rifle case. It was obviously the work of a master craftsman who ornamented wood with the same exacting detail some gun lovers gave to engraving firearms. And she didn’t need to be told that the double-barrel shotguns inside the case were worth years of her salary – apiece.

  She said quietly, “He’s really into hunting, huh?”

  Marvin glanced at the wall. “Yeah. There’s obviously more to the professor than meets the eye.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He went out to get what he calls provisions. I assume he was talking about food, but I’m not sure.” Marvin pointed. “He might have been talking about what’s in the gun case. I think he’s low on ammo.”

  Jodi leaned forward
; “Are those double-barreled shotguns?”

  “Those are very expensive, English-made double-barreled rifles. The professor took one out and loaded it for me before he left. I didn’t tell him I already had Joe’s forty-five.” He threw off an afghan and reached down to lift an oversized cannon of a rifle. “I don’t see how they carry this thing around all day long. It’s gotta weigh fourteen or fifteen pounds.”

  “That’s huge!” exclaimed Jodi. “What caliber is it?”

  Marvin shrugged, “I don’t know. I’m not a hunter. He did mention something about a four-five-eight Weatherby. Whatever that is. And he’s got a six-hundred Nitrous … something. I don’t know guns. But, whatever it is, it can knock down an elephant.” He gestured to the wall. “Obviously.”

  “Hey,” Jodi stated, “you said you were gonna make me a drink.”

  Marvin walked across the room. “The professor – I might add – has also got one of the better-stocked bars I’ve ever seen. I’m not even sure that some of this stuff is legal.” He began mixing. “That’s funny. I never took him for a drinker. He’s always so proper.”

  “So are you, Marvin, and I never took you for a gunfighter.” Jodi inhaled, calming. “But I’m glad you weren’t there today.”

  Marvin began pouring ingredients as he glanced at Joe. “You seem to be doing okay, Joe. You been shot before?”

  “Once or twice,” Joe Mac groaned. “But that don’t make it no easier. I’m as upset as she is. I’m just used to it. How you doing, kid?”

  Jodi closed her eyes. “I’m settling down.” She was silent with her thoughts before she asked, “Is it usually like this?”

  “It’s usually a lot worse.” Joe Mac paused. “But that’s because you usually get shot yourself. As it turned out, we didn’t. And getting hit in the vest don’t count. What counts is that we’re not laid up in critical condition right now with the chief and the mayor standing out in the hallway. Believe me, that’s worse. By far.”

  “What do they want?”

  “They want to talk to you.”

  “About what?”

  “The same thing Internal Affairs wants to talk about every time you use your gun. Why did you feel your life was in danger? Why did you shoot him forty-five times?”

  “I fired until the aggression stopped,” Jodi muttered mechanically. “Yes, I felt I was in immediate, life-threatening danger. I then called for an ambulance and secured the scene. No, the scene was not disturbed and, yes, I want to speak to my PBA representative before making any further statements.”

  “There you go,” Joe Mac rumbled. “You don’t talk, you walk.” He grunted in what seemed like a laugh. “Reminds me of my first shooting statement.”

  “What’d you write?”

  “I wrote, ‘I told him that if he moved I’d shoot him. He moved. I shot him.’”

  Jodi stared. “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.”

  “Was Brightbarton your supervisor then?”

  “As a matter of fact, he was.”

  “What’d he say?”

  “He said, ‘That’s more than I’d write.’”

  With total surprise, Jodi laughed, “I like the captain.”

  “He likes you, too. He believes in you. Thinks you’re gonna make a real good cop one day. He wouldn’t be getting personally involved – not with two months out – if he didn’t think you were worth it. And I expect he’d like to pass on what he knows to somebody that he believes can carry it forward.”

  A calm had risen inside Jodi like a blue pond in twilight. Then Marvin arrived beside her bearing a large blue glass. Jodi took it; “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Marvin turned with a steady gaze. “Anything for you, Joe? Sorry. I should have asked sooner.”

  “A bottle of water if he’s got one,” said Joe Mac.

  “Coming up.”

  The front door opened, and Professor Graven entered bearing large bags beneath his left arm and dangling from his left hand. His eyes opened wider before he turned and secured the door with three large locks. Then he walked forward, sprawling the bags without order on a coffee table. With that done he straightened, staring over them.

  “They got there the same time you two got there,” the professor stated as if he needed no confirmation. “They have someone on the inside. I feared as much.”

  Marvin delivered a bottle of water and Joe Mac sighed, “Thank you.”

  With a weary expression, the professor turned and began removing ammunition, food,

  and a bottle of wine. He also laid a series of smaller containers in a tight group seeming to separate them according to purpose.

  “I picked up some ammunition since I don’t intend to go into that cavern unless I’m fully armed. And I picked us up some dinner. I hope you like Chinese. There’s a wonderful restaurant down the block. I use it all the time.”

  He picked a sack and set it down on the table positioned between Jodi and Joe Mac. After placing Styrofoam plates with plastic forks and spoons alongside half a dozen boxes, Professor Graven generously gestured, “Bon appetit.”

  Jodi watched as he walked to the gun case.

  “A couple of people got killed, professor.”

  Without looking back Graven unlocked the case. “I assumed.”

  “You don’t ask a lot of questions, do you?”

  The professor returned bearing a double-barrel rifle. Frowning, he took a seat beside Joe Mac in a duplicate chair. “No, Detective Strong; I don’t. I suppose it’s because I’ve been an archeologist almost my entire life.”

  Joe scowled, “What does that have to do with not asking questions?”

  “Archeology, my dear.” Professor Graven expertly broke open the rifle and began cleaning. “As an archeologist you spend your entire life either presuming or just plain guessing. You don’t ask a lot of questions because all the people you’d like to question are dead. So, you look at what’s in front of you and take your best guess. And I suppose the habit of looking and taking my best guess has translated itself from my professional life to my private life.” He seemed to laugh. “I’m as surprised as you are that I didn’t ask a question. I hadn’t noticed that about myself. But I suppose not asking questions has become a part of my personality and not just my work.”

  Jodi actually found that interesting; she didn’t allow herself to contemplate whether it was for future reference involving Marvin.

  “Is that what archelogy is all about? Guessing?”

  “I’m afraid so.” Graven began cleaning the rifle like a pro. “It works like this: An archeologist accidentally discovers a piece of metal that’s been buried in the mud for ten thousand years. Needless to say, there’s not much left of it, and so he cleans it up. He carbon dates it. He references what he knows of the geology of the region to coincide with that carbon dating. He references what he knows of the immigration and exodus salient to that period. He talks to meteorologists about what the weather was like during that epoch. He talks to biologists about what animal life was prevalent during that period. Then he shakes it like dice and takes a guess as to whether this was a king or a slave or a warrior. Whether this was a great nation or one of many tribes or just a single family. Whether this was someone who died naturally or whether he was sacrificed in some mysterious ritual.” He shrugged, “He makes the best guess he can make based on little more than a piece of metal that just happened to be tough enough to have survived being buried in the mud for ten thousand years. The rest is whatever you want to call it. Assumption. Presumption. Guesswork. Imagination. Sequential logic. You name it. But it’s not ‘knowledge.’ That would be the greatest assumption of all.”

  Jodi had noticed that Joe Mac seemed to have been listening with keen interest and was surprised he didn’t follow the professor’s dissertation with a question. She glanced at Marvin, who nodded as he said, “The professor’s right. As a rule, archeologists don’t work with knowledge. We just go where science leads. And sometimes science leads us
to a very tentative conclusion that dispels everything we’ve ever believed about who built the sphinx or the pyramids or the Nazca Lines. We still don’t know how the people of Baalbek moved this stone that weighs over a thousand tons into their temple and set it down with a precision we can’t duplicate even with today’s technology. It would have taken a hundred thousand men, and they never had a hundred thousand men. And there’s always the gold standard of mysteries – the Shroud of Turin. That thing has defied every scientific theory that has ever been proffered. There is simply nothing known to science that could have produced that image. And I mean nothing. Not radiation. Not heat. Not light. Not any kind of chemical reaction. There is nothing in the known universe that could have made that image, so archeology is full of mysteries. The Druids are just one of them.”

  Using a long aluminum rod to clean a barrel, Graven frowned, “But now we must deal with today. And what we do know. What happened at the rendezvous?”

  Taking a moment, Jodi said, “We were waiting. Captain Brightbarton showed up with two more men. Then a car pulled up, and some guys got out and starting shooting. I’m not sure who else might have been shooting from a roof or window. Brightbarton’s men were caught in the open. They’re dead. Then Joe got hit. Then the captain got hit.”

  “You were not injured?” Graven asked with a gaze.

  “No. I was behind a tree. Then they piled into some vehicles and tore out of there.” She paused. “They torched the cars a few blocks away and either switched cars, caught the subway, or just faded into the crowd. Nobody knows. They picked one of the few places that isn’t on camera.”

  “It sounds as if they were prepared,” Graven announced. “They had a target, a time, and a location. You are both lucky to be alive.”

  “We sort of figured that out.”

  “What is the next course of action?”

  “There isn’t one,” said Joe Mac. “It means we can’t trust anyone in the police department or the FBI. It means we’re on our own. It means we stick to the plan and crash this party.”