Purpose

by Andrew Q. Gordon

Despite the pull of the innocent, I feel satisfied. It feels content for the barest of moments before It acknowledges the dead boy’s call. There is no desperate need in me to chase the killer. A pull, an interest, but nothing like the near-painful urges of the past.

  As I follow, I’m angry and confused. Angry I let them get away, confused that it doesn’t bother the Purpose. Prey shouldn’t get away. In the past if it did, the force of the compulsion multiplied. Cheated out of vengeance, the soul of the innocent became agitated and caused me pain. Not so tonight.

  By the time I catch up, the group with my target are walking, quickly, but walking. The repeated glances over the shoulders become less frequent the farther away we get. When they turn right on Columbia Road, I know where they are heading and get out my phone.

  “Detective Griffin.” I speak as soon as he picks up. “I have information for you.”

  “I’m listening.” Hearing a second person breathe, I assume Agent Barrington is there too.

  “I’m sure you’re monitoring the radio traffic. The killer was at 1111 Lamont when the gang unit raided the building.”

  “Was?”

  “He got away. I would have stopped him, but I noticed two gunmen about to fire on your officers.” How much of what happened was known to the detective? “It took me a moment to subdue them.”

  “I wondered if you had a hand in that.” Listening carefully, I hear enough in his voice to know he is not bluffing.

  “The killer escaped in a group that pushed their way past the arrest team. I’m following them now.” I wait. He’s going to ask me where I am.

  “Where are you now?”

  I can’t stifle my laugh. “You’re so predictable. I’m going to solve your case for you. Wrap it up with a big red bow. Since I know you’re on scene at 1111 Lamont, bring a unit and another detective, someone who speaks Spanish, and meet me at the north end of Meridian Hill Park. I’ll make sure the group is there.”

  “Then what?” There is a noise in the background, and I can hear the detective moving his body quickly. “How will I even know it’s you?”

  “Stay hidden when you see the group. I’ll bring the killer to where you’re concealed. I expect you’ll hear some interesting admissions. Enough to make an arrest. Make sure to record them. His clothes have all the evidence you’ll need after that to convict.”

  My tone tells him I am about to go. Before I can, his frantic voice calls me back. “Wait. How soon will you be there?”

  “When I get there, Detective. I suggest you get there first and find a good spot to stay out of sight.”

  This time I don’t wait to hang up. His dual role, befriending me and helping the FBI, is more annoying than I expected. Once I get what I want from him tonight, maybe there should be no more calls.

  Individuals break off from the group, so I “suggest” to the rest they all want to go to the park. It’s their hangout, so it isn’t hard for me to convince them.

  Twice, I’m tempted just to carry out vengeance and go home. Then I can stop this charade with Detective Griffin and move on to other, more nettlesome issues. Then I remember how much happier Ryan was when he learned I didn’t kill anyone last time and decide to stick to my plan.

  The killer and friends turn left on 15th Street. Griffin is already in position. I should just read his mind, find out what Barrington looks like, and take care of the killer. Everything else is unnecessary.

  Unnecessary maybe, but this way I can test the Purpose and its new temperament. If getting the killer arrested will slake Its thirst, I need to know. Since it won’t speak to me, this is the only way to find out—test It.

  With the park in sight, I move closer. The best way to affect my needs is to find someone the killer will confide in. Someone he’d expect to ask for details. Slipping into his mind, I’m not surprised by his simple thoughts. Prodding, I find the gang member whose arm I smashed, Eduardo Flores, was one of the local leaders. Easy enough.

  I make a quick left and start to run. I turn right and parallel their route, until I get to Euclid Street. Touching my box, I am Eduardo Flores. Running, I get to 15th Street and see my “friends” approach. Panting hard, I join them.

  They call out my name, but I focus on the killer. “Yo, Yester.”

  His face is a mix of fear and pride. Yester did what needed to be done and expected to be praised for it. The others let him make his way toward me. Now to get him where I need him.

  We follow the others into the park where they “decide” to move farther away to give us space. Yester doesn’t care; he’s alone with “Eduardo.” That gives him some standing, at least in his mind.

  The detective and the others are barely hidden. If I didn’t keep Yester’s mind from registering their presence, this entire plan would fall apart. Remembering to speak in Spanish, I make the case for the police.

  “What happened?” Yester knows why “I’m” asking.

  “We caught that kid who was repping 18th Street alone. I took the knife Silvio gave me and stabbed him.”

  Time to focus this. I want to go home. “Where did you cut him?”

  “Chest and stomach, just like you told me.” He’s proud, looking for approval.

  I nod, getting a hint of a smile. “Just once?”

  “No, at least three times.” He hesitates, then adds, “I heard he died.”

  “So you killed him?” Might as well make this airtight.

  “Yeah, I did. Just like you told me.”

  I scan his clothes. Blood, the dead boy’s blood, is all over his sleeves. I can smell the knife in his waist area. Almost too easy.

  “You can come out now, Detective.” My voice will not be on the recording I know they are making.

  I hear Griffin give the command, and the park is flooded with plainclothes officers. They are not all local police. Most are ICE or FBI. Barrington expects to catch me. Too bad.

  Watching the confused man I now know is Agent Barrington search frantically for me, I gauge It’s reaction. Calm, sated, content. Something to sort out tomorrow.

  Yester is led away, searching for Eduardo. I let him see “me,” and as Eduardo I wave. “Have a nice life in prison.”

  Perhaps he will turn on his “friend.” Maybe not. But either way, Eduardo is finished too. He told the killer to act. I’ll feel no remorse if he’s killed by his own, nor will I avenge his death.

  Someone died tonight, an innocent, a boy mistaken for someone he was not. His killer has been caught, and his soul is at peace.

  13

  GAR sat on a picnic table watching ICE agents along with DC police round up and arrest Yester and his friends. He also watched Barrington. The man could cuss when mad.

  “How could he get away?” An angry scowl greeted each officer as Agent Barrington slid his gaze from one to the next. “He was standing inches away when he called us out. How did we miss him?”

  The urge to say, “Tell ’em, Grif,” nearly broke his resolve to stay silent. Sarcastic humor? It no longer surprised him how he was reverting to the Will of old.

  “Sir.” An ICE agent broke the silence. “Who are you talking about? The only person within a dozen feet of you was the kid we arrested. There was no one else.”

  “I told you.” Griffin’s voice was barely audible. “Clearly, you didn’t believe me.”

  Barrington glared at the detective. Turning to the others, he waved his hand toward the rest of the park. “Go search for signs of someone else.”

  Leaving the obvious unasked—what did “someone else” look like—the man pointed toward groups of agents, giving each of them an area to cover. Once they were gone, Barrington turned to Griffin.

  “Now what?”

  Griffin laughed. “Now you want my advice? I told you he wouldn’t let you see him.”

  “So you did. What’s your point?” He started tapping on his phone, ignoring the detective’s glare. “Fitz, it’s Adam. Can you send K9 to Meridian Hill Park, north end?”

  Shaking his head
, Griffin turned away. “You do realize he’s watching and listening, right?”

  “Good, that means we’ll find him when the dogs get here.”

  Gar stood up and walked closer. “No, you won’t.”

  Both men jumped, scanning the area. Though he stood three feet away, he kept himself concealed.

  “Like I said.” Griffin’s voice was laced with reproach.

  “Show yourself!”

  The man’s arrogance was annoying. “Why should I?”

  “I want to talk to you.” Barrington twisted, appearing more agitated by the moment. His right hand stayed on his weapon.

  “We’re talking now.” In their minds, his voice came from all directions. “You don’t need to see me to talk.”

  “What are you hiding?”

  Laughing, Gar realized this would get tiring soon. “Everything and nothing. Agent, I am the Spirit of Vengeance. How do you plan to catch a spirit?”

  “Spirit.” The word came out as a sneer.

  It was time to go home. Ryan was waiting. He picked a random image and let them see “him.”

  “Since when are you black?” Griffin asked.

  “The Spirit of Vengeance is not a white male. It’s whatever it needs to be.”

  Barrington drew his weapon and pointed it at Gar’s head. “Don’t move. You’re under arrest.”

  Gar rolled his eyes and moved faster than the agent could react. Snatching the weapon, he prevented the trigger from being pulled as he disarmed the man. He pointed the gun at Barrington’s head, smiling at the agent’s shock.

  “What the….” Barrington took a step back. Equally shocked, Griffin had his gun out. “Shoot him, Griffin.”

  “I told you once, Detective, bullets can’t hurt me. If you fire on me, you will both die.” An idle threat. He wouldn’t kill them, but he wanted to avoid exchanging shots.

  “Shoot—”

  Gar disappeared again, dropping the weapon at the man’s feet. “I told you I’m a spirit.”

  Gar stepped to the right of the pair and reappeared, again changing his appearance.

  “Agent Barrington, why are you here?”

  “Cute.” He scowled as he bent down to pick up his weapon.

  “What?” Gar even used the voice of the man he imitated. “You didn’t like President Bush? Somehow, I pegged you as a fan of W.”

  “Don’t insult him.”

  “What do you want, Barrington? My patience is not without limits.” He didn’t change his look.

  “Isn’t it clear?” The gun’s magazine dropped into his hand. After checking the contents, he slapped it back into the handle and holstered it. “You’re a mass murderer. I’m going to stop you.”

  “Stop me?” Gar raised his eyebrow, still in character. “What is it I’ve done?”

  “Funny guy.”

  Slipping into the agent’s mind, Gar confirmed what he suspected. Reinforcements were on the way. “Agent Barrington, I’ll be gone long before your backup arrives, but even if they make it here first, they won’t see me. They’ll just think you’re crazy.”

  For a brief moment, the man lost his poker face. If only they knew what he was capable of.

  “I’ll find a way. No one’s untouchable.”

  “Feel free to arrest me. I’m in retirement in Texas. Ask the Secret Service for my address.” What the hell was he doing? “And with that, I’ll be going.”

  Telling Barrington’s mind he wasn’t there, he moved toward Griffin. “So much for asking you not to bring Barrington with you.”

  Griffin shrugged. “Did you really expect me to do what you wanted?”

  “No, actually I was counting on your bringing him. I wanted to see his face.”

  Blood rushed to the detective’s face, and his eyes narrowed. “You played me?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “I offered to help you solve a murder, and I did. Nothing was asked in return. Had you kept your word, you still would have Yester and his confession, but I wouldn’t have what I wanted. Your lack of honor only served my purposes.”

  “Are you talking to him?” Barrington moved closer, but Gar avoided him.

  “That’s an interesting way to say you manipulated me.” His voice lost none of its edge.

  Gar laughed. “No, Detective, I specifically said don’t bring him. Manipulating you would have been to say nothing in the hopes you would. Tonight was about me proving what I could do for you. Yes, I expected you not to deal with me in good faith, but if that’s manipulating you, then you need to take a look at your ethics and not question mine.”

  He didn’t need to read the man’s mind to know he’d struck a nerve.

  “What’s happening?” Barrington grabbed Griffin’s shoulder. “Is he still here?”

  “Take your hand off me,” the detective growled, staring at the hand. “If you can’t see him, then what does it matter if he is here or not? You can’t catch a ghost.”

  This time, Gar read Barrington’s thoughts, and when he was done, he “told” him to leave. Silently, he obeyed the command.

  “Where’s he going?”

  “Beats me.” Gar’s answer was truthful. He hadn’t told the agent where to go, just to go. “You should avoid him.”

  “Don’t try to drive a wedge between us.” Griffin appeared conflicted.

  “Suit yourself, but he’s a user.” The concern was genuine. Barrington was a bully with a badge. It didn’t matter to him who he trampled to get what he wanted. “Catching me is a means to a promotion for him. You don’t matter a lick to him. Since he’s going to fail, he’ll blame you for his failure.”

  “Like I said, don’t try to divert me by pitting us against each other.” Griffin’s words lacked conviction.

  “As you wish, Detective. With this, I feel we are square.” Since when did he feel the need to square away his “debts?” “I saved the life of at least one officer and helped you solve a murder in under eight hours. Anything I got from your files has been paid for in full.”

  “It’s not that simple. You—”

  “Yes, it is ‘that simple’, Detective.” The mission over, Gar returned to the background. He felt more like Will than Gar, and Will grew weary of the game. He could see this would be a hard path in the future. “This is our last conversation. You broke your word to me. I can’t trust you.”

  “You’re one to speak of trust.” Griffin’s anger radiated from his face and words. “We ‘met’ when you broke into my office. I should trust you, why? Yes, I appreciate what you did for the officers back on Lamont, and helping me close this case is greatly appreciated, but you’re the suspect in a bunch of crimes.”

  “Again, that doesn’t matter to me. Where will you find me? What do I look like? How will you stop me? The futility of this path should be clear to you, but if it’s not, let me help you see it. Barrington isn’t planning to arrest me. He wants to use me. Even if you manage to catch me, he will use federal prerogative to take me from your custody. The bureau’s interest in me is as an operative.”

  Will let his words sink in before he continued. “Ask him. He’ll deny it, but keep it in the back of your mind.”

  “How do you know that?” he spat. “You met him fifteen minutes ago.”

  “I can read minds, Detective.” That would get his attention.

  “Read minds?” His voice was barely audible.

  “Yes, I can read minds. It’s how I knew who to look like for Yester to trust me and confess. It’s how I know what the guilty are going to do and where to find them. I needed to meet Barrington to find out why he pursues me. The bureau wants me to be a covert agent, doing things they can’t or can’t be associated with.”

  Griffin’s eyes were distant. It didn’t require mind reading to know he considered Gar’s words. “You can see I’m telling the truth. Why else would they be ‘interested’ in your case?”

  Whether he meant to or not, Griffin nodded.

  “Detective.” Will’s voice got his attention. “If you agr
ee, and keep your word not to involve the good Agent Barrington in any future events, I’ll reconsider my decision to cut you off.”

  “Why do I feel like I’m making a deal with the devil?”

  A snort escaped his throat. “I assure you, I am not the devil.”

  “No angel either.” The deadpan delivery made Will laugh.

  “No, not that either.” Shaking his head, he shrugged. “I’ll call you next time I’m going to act. Just remember, I’ll know if you lie to me. Saying no won’t upset me.”

  “Why?” Griffin threw his hands up slightly. “Why are you doing this? Your MO up until now has been to leave dead bodies. Why the change?”

  “It is too hard to explain.” He didn’t understand it himself, so how could he explain it to someone else? “Think of it as I’m trying a new method. That’s not to say I won’t revert to my old ways along the way. I’m taking things on a case-by-case basis.”

  “Let me think about it.”

  “Of course.” He held out his hand. Tentatively, the detective reached out, looking relieved when they shook. “Don’t look so surprised. I can be as real or ethereal as I want or need. Stay safe, Detective.”

  WILL heard the television before he opened his front door. Ryan waited up for him? Then again, neither of them “worked,” so they could sleep in.

  As he hung up his coat, he heard the sound of feet trying to be quiet. “You can’t sneak up on me, Ryan.”

  “Just testing a theory.” Will found him wearing only a pair of cotton boxers. “I figured you could hear me, even if I was super quiet.”

  “I can hear you breathing.” He moved closer and pulled Ryan into a hug. “Footsteps are like a drum beat.”

  “You make it hard for me to surprise you.” Ryan winked, then kissed him again.

  “Why even try?”

  Ryan tugged on his arm, leading him toward the bedroom. “Get cleaned up, and we can fall asleep together watching a movie.”

  Falling asleep was something Will had to force himself to do. But rather than ruin the mood, he nodded. “Just take a couple of minutes.”

  True to his word, Will showered quickly, dried off, and used the mouthwash in under ten minutes. “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”