Stasis: A Will Vullerman Anthology

by J. Tobias Buller

  May was quiet for a moment. "Well, I smelled smoke, so I got up."

  "So it wasn't my imagination," Will mused aloud. May had smelled it too, and since May's bedroom and Will's were on the same side of the house, that meant that the match had been lit in that area. That explained why Mr. and Mrs. Torrey hadn't smelled anything the night before.

  "You smelled it too?" May asked.

  "Yes." Will gestured down the hallway. "Now go back to bed, May, or I'll have to wake your parents."

  "Aren't you going back to sleep, Mister Vullerman?"

  Will shook his head. "I'll stay up for a little bit and make sure everything's safe.”

  "But why?"

  Will thought for a moment. "If I tell you a quick story explaining my reasons, do you promise to go to bed?"

  Silence. Finally, May said, "Yes, I promise."

  "All right. Stay quiet and listen." Will crouched, his face level with May's. "Once upon a time, there was a secret agent. He had been assigned to protect a family with a mom and dad and a little girl."

  May listened intently.

  "He didn't care much about the mission, though," Will continued, "and just wanted to get back home. His grandparents were old and he wanted to spend as much time with them as he could. But there came a day that..."

  Will broke off for a moment and swallowed hard. "There came a day where the secret agent failed to do his job, and the family got...hurt. And it was just because the secret agent didn't do the best job he could. He was very sad and said that he'd never let it happen again. Ever. That's why I have to stay up. Because then it won't happen again."

  May's gaze stayed on Will's face. "Mister Vullerman?"

  "Yes?"

  "Was that man you?"

  "He's...who I was. But he's not who I am now. That's why I need to stay up and make sure everything is safe.”

  "Good.” She turned and waved over her shoulder, saying, “I don't think you'll do that mistake again, Mister Vullerman. Night."

  "Good night, Miss May." Will watched as she walked back down the hallway and slipped into her room. He heard her bed creak a moment later, and then settled himself down for a long night.

  Will wasn't going to leave the house unguarded if his life depended on it. Because other lives depended on him.

  And he wouldn't fail. Not this time.

  ************

  Brownbarr strode into the intelligence center. "Rolvo!" he barked. "Any news?"

  "No, sah." Rolvo sidled up to Brownbarr. "We simply don't have enough evidence."

  Brownbarr glared at the map of the world covering the far wall. How could an ASP agent just die? Tarent hadn't even used his comm to try and contact anyone in the brief moments after he had been shot. He had dragged himself across the room and then collapsed, not a single call.

  Wait. That was it! "Rolvo, what happened to Tarent's comm?"

  Rolvo frowned. "It wasn't found, sah, and the signal wasn't available. We tried to trace it, but there was no luck. We assumed that the murderah had either taken or destroyed it.”

  “There's the key, and a key you should have seen yourself. Redouble your efforts. Find the comm and I wager that you'll find our murderer, too.” Brownbarr stopped and gave Rolvo a pointed glance. “Well? Get on it! And if you see Mothinghotch, tell him to go find a pilot and ready a jet. I'm going to the scene of the murder myself.”

  ************

  The next morning, Will managed to code his comm to reverse the phone signal. He tested it several times on different numbers with perfect success and then sat beside the phone all day. He couldn't risk missing the call.

  At three o'clock, the phone sounded. Mr. Torrey stepped into the room and stopped just after the doorway, his gaze fixed on the phone. Will put a finger to his lips and then punched a button on his comm while simultaneously pressing the call button on the phone.

  The signal reversed, and the phone began to ring in his ear. Yes! It was calling the number!

  On the third ring, someone picked up. The familiar voice of their mysterious caller rasped through the speaker. "You can't stop me. I'm coming. You may think you're clever, but you aren't."

  Will gritted his teeth. At last! "Who are you, and why are you calling these people? You'll bring the force of the law on yourself if you continue, so I warn you now: I won't shirk from violence."

  There was a pause. "Well, Will Vullerman. I'll get you too. You'll be dead by the time I make the thirteenth call. You'll all be dead."

  And then the call ended.

  Will set the phone down, a chill running through his body. How in the world had the man known Will's name? No one but Brownbarr knew that Will was visiting the Torreys.

  "Mr. Vullerman? What did he say?" Mr. Torrey's voice broke through Will's daze.

  Will frowned. How much should he tell the Torreys?

  "Something unexpected." Will glanced down at the phone again. "Mr. Torrey, how many calls has this man made in total?"

  Mr. Torrey's terse answer made Will shiver.

  "Twelve."

  Will stood. "Mr. Torrey, if you trust me at all, you'll go out to dinner with your family tonight and leave me here. Alone. Don't come back until I tell you to, which will probably be early tomorrow morning. You can take my comm and call this phone to get in contact with me, but if I don't answer, stay far away from this house."

  Mr. Torrey's eyebrows met. "Can't we contact the police? There has to be something we can do.”

  "The police can't do anything here. They'll show up and scare this man away, and then he'll come back and threaten you some other day when you least expect it. I have to do this alone.”

  "Listen to me, Mr. Vullerman.” Mr. Torrey pressed his lips tightly together. “My family is at stake, and if they are in any kind of danger, I need to know. I have to know. What did the man say? And for that matter, what about that letter you refused to show me? What did that say?”

  "Alexander Torrey," Will said, putting as much power into his voice as he could, "If you value your life or your wife's life, or your little girl's precious life, you'll do as I say. You know enough. You don't need more to keep you up at night.”

  Mr. Torrey gave Will a long look, his eyes narrow. "All right. We'll go out to eat, and if it gets late, we'll find a hotel someplace. But if we don't hear back from you by tomorrow morning, we're calling the police. You understand?”

  "Do what you have to." Will suspected that if he couldn't answer the phone, the police would have a murder on their hands. But he had to protect this family. With everything he had, he would protect them.

  But Will had to get this man first....before he made the thirteenth call.

  THE THIRTEENTH CALL

  PART TWO

  The clock read eleven o'clock. It would be probably a couple hours before the caller made his move.

  Will sat on the couch and tried to still his thoughts, toying with the handcuffs in his lap. Waiting was what he hated. Infernal waiting. Sitting on the edge of a dangerous situation without jumping in.

  You'll be dead by the time I make the thirteenth call. You'll all be dead.

  The smell of a struck match tingled Will's senses. Was the man already nearby? Will swallowed, and stood up. Time to finally end this.

  He glanced down the hallway, and then froze. Pale light glowed from Will's cracked bedroom door. He crept towards it and peered underneath the door.

  The light was coming from the window. Will recognized the harsh, focused beam of a flashlight. Someone was shining a flashlight in Will's window, but why?

  The light clicked off, and for a moment, Will heard nothing. And then the door rattled. Locked, of course. Will dove back into the living room, pressing his back against the wall. He rehearsed his plan mentally: as soon as the fellow stepped in the house, Will would try and disarm him, and then clap the handcuffs on him.

  The smell of cigar smoke wafted through the window. Cigar smoke? For a moment, Will's concentration wavered.

  Will heard metal
on metal, and with a click he heard the door slide open, and then stealthy footsteps.

  A dark figure stepped into the living room, and to Will's surprise, the man had a glowing cigar in his mouth.

  Will tensed...and then jumped on him, causing the man's cigar to fall to the tile.

  The man yelled and punched Will in the jaw. Will jerked back for a moment, but grabbed the man's wrist and twisted it. He yelped, but kicked at Will and caused Will to lose his footing. They both tumbled down onto the tile.

  Will managed to get the man into a stranglehold, and then pushed him face down into the tile. He yanked the man's arms behind his back and then slammed the handcuffs shut. He flipped on the light switch, and found a familiar sight: the cigar-toting taxi driver, groaning and standing to his feet with his arms twisted behind him.

  "You!" Will shoved the man backwards against the wall. "Who are you, and why are you here?"

  The man gave a growl. "I ain't sayin' naught. Ain't ya gonna say that I 'ave the right to remain silent?"

  "I'd have you know," Will said, coldly, "that I'm not the police. I'm an ASP operative, but I suspect you already know that."

  "I don't know nothin', and ya can't get me to say a durn thing."

  "Fine." Will grabbed the man and sat him down on the floor. He turned and stamped on the man's cigar to put it out, and then he tied the man's legs with one of the living room curtains. He then snatched up the phone and dialed the police, informing them that there was an attempted robbery and possibly an attempted murder, and that the culprit had been apprehended.

  Will hung up the phone and then turned to face the taxi driver again. "Makes sense, I suppose. I smelled a match the last few nights and saw a glow—I suppose that was you smoking, eh?"

  The driver said nothing, but glared at Will.

  "You couldn't break in because I was awake, so you waited until tonight, when the family was gone and you felt sure that I was out of the house. I have to admit, though, calling and threatening the family with murder was a bit overboard to get them out of the house."

  Again, the driver stayed silent.

  Will shook his head. "Well, I'm glad this business is over. There's a few points that I don't understand, but I'm sure the authorities will wrench them out of you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to call my friends and inform them that I've caught you. Struggle and you'll wake up tomorrow morning black and blue."

  Will called the Torreys and told them that it was safe for them to come home, and that the police were on their way to take the man to jail.

  He called Brownbarr next. He got a busy signal and was redirected to intelligence at HQ. An aide answered and she, in turn, redirected the call to Rolvo's desk.

  There was a click. “Hello?”

  Will glanced down at the sullen taxi driver. “Rolvo?”

  “Ah, Agent Vullahman! I thought you were on vacation?”

  “Doing some personal business. I ended up attracting some action and, long story short, I got to use my handcuffs. I just wanted to pass on the message to the Director.”

  “I can take notes.”

  “Right. Just tell him that the Torrey detour was successfully completed.” He thought for a moment. “And if you have time, I'd like you to check out American-related crime in the Americo-Belgian community in western EC. You have a computer on?”

  “I always have a computah on.” Rolvo was silent for a few moments. “Nothing specific comes up. Can you narrow the keywords?”

  “Try murder or attempted murder.”

  Another moment of silence. “Nothing above average. Americo-Belgian, you said?”

  “Refugees, mostly.”

  Rolvo grunted. “There is a possible connection. What ah your circumstances?”

  How much could he say? This wasn't official ASP business, of course, but since an arrest was being made... “Newly immigrated American family being terrorized with death threats.”

  Another grunt. “I see. Yes, a connection. Eastahn Europe. Four recently immigrated American socio-familial groups have been murhdered, with a total of twelve groups receiving death threats.”

  Will frowned. “But that's Eastern Europe?”

  “The circumstances are similah. From the data, I would guess this is paht of a chain reaction against American immigration. There is an ASP investigation in progress now. Agent Tarent was assigned, before his murdah.”

  “Murder?”

  “You may not get a vacation aftah all, Vullahman.”

  Will shook his head. “I guess not. But what about this particular situation? I apprehended the man giving the death threats. My guess is he just wanted a shot at robbing the house and didn't like the new Americans. Do you think there's more of them, a sort of chain group?”

  “I would say that this is an isolated incident,” Rolvo said. “But err on the side of safety.”

  Will sighed. “All right. I'll have the local police do an investigation in the neighborhood and have them keep an eye on things. Thanks, Rolvo. Talk to you back at HQ.”

  There was a grunt, and the line went dead with a beep. Typical Rolvo. Will powered down the comm and settled on the couch to wait for the police to show up.

  ************

  Another fifteen minutes passed, and then there came a knock on the door. Will strode to the door and cracked it open a notch. The Torreys stood outside. Will opened the door and let them in, and May gave him a hug. "I knew you could do it," she said, grinning up at him.

  Will followed the Torreys into their living room. When Mr. Torrey saw the tied-up taxi driver, his face hardened. "So you're the one who's been harassing my family?"

  The man refused to answer.

  "Well, justice has caught up with you, you blackguard." Mr. Torrey kept up his gaze, and the man looked away. "Your reward for torturing us for the last twelve days will be a nice prison cell."

  The taxi driver shrugged.

  "Does his voice sound like the one that kept calling us?" Mr. Torrey asked, turning to Will. "He hasn't said a word since we came in."

  "He's convinced that anything he says will be used in court, despite the fact that I'm not a policeman. No, his voice isn't right, but it's easy enough to synthesize your voice if you know how to do it."

  Outside, a car door slammed, interrupting Will's explanation. Will glanced out the window and saw the flashing lights of the police car. "Looks like your ride has arrived," he said.

  ************

  Will stepped into the smooth interior of the jet and heaved a sigh. The Torreys were safe and his job was done. A work well done was nothing to be ashamed of, and Brownbarr himself had sent Will a message.

  It had only been last night that Will had caught the Torreys' intruder, but Brownbarr had said that he was eager to debrief Will and thank him for his work. No mention of a new mission, thankfully. Full vacation credit and extra time off—the works. The only thing that marred it was the bad connection that had made Brownbarr's voice metallic and grainy. But, Will thought with a shrug, he was probably off investigating this murder business in Eastern Europe and had a bad connection.

  The door hissed shut behind Will, and a fluorescent light blinked on, showing Will the narrow hallway leading further into the jet. Will walked down the passage and opened the door, revealing a couple rows of seats and then the pilot's seat. A private ASP jet, eh? Brownbarr knew how to do things in style.

  "Well, well, it's Will Vullerman hisself. How you doih, my man?"

  The pilot's seat swiveled around, revealing a West African man with white teeth and a broad smile.

  "Immanuel!" Will grinned. "I haven't seen you since the American mission. How have you been doing?" Will shook hands with Immanuel and their fingers hooked together briefly, causing a snap.

  "Thank God." Immanuel leaned back in his chair. "So, you bin busy?"

  Will sat down in the front row and put on his seat-belt. "Yeah, I just finished a private mission for Director Brownbarr. His relatives were being threatened with insane phon
e calls."

  Immanuel whistled. "A-men. You catch th' man?"

  "Mhm. He turned out to be a cigar-smoking taxi driver. I caught him just last night, but Brownbarr ordered me back to HQ for debriefing."

  "Hm, he in'a hurry, yeah?"

  Will shrugged. "I don't know. He just seemed eager to debrief me."

  Immanuel held up a finger. "We go'ring ta take off soon, so we kin talk later. Need ta concentrate'o flyin'."

  "No problem."

  ************

  Brownbarr entered the room and glanced at the bare concrete floor of the hotel room where, several days ago, the murder of an ASP agent had taken place. The concrete had been covered with a carpet, but Rolvo had told him that the carpeting had to be stripped because of the blood. The room didn't have much space, just enough for a bed and a desk. The bed looked slept in, on Brownbarr's left, and the desk was in the far right corner of the room. The walls had been painted brown.

  Disinfectant. The room reeked off it. Sometimes hotel employees tried a little too hard.

  "Not much to look at," Brownbarr said aloud. Mothinghotch came in behind him and nodded, tugging at his shirt nervously.

  "Sir, I'm not much for, uh, murder and blood. I have a weak constitution, sir, and—"

  Brownbarr glanced back at him. "Most of it's cleaned up, but if it bothers you, step outside."

  Mothinghotch bobbed his head up and down. "Thanks, sir." He ducked out the door quickly.

  Weak constitution indeed.

  Brownbarr examined the room. Most everything had been left alone, except for the carpeting. He studied it for a long while, but he didn't find anything that would help clue him as to the murderer's identity. The only possibility was a similarity in the circumstances between the recent American murders and this one. But no one knew who the murderer was, or why he did it.

  Brownbarr crouched down and examined the concrete. Nothing to see there. He glanced at the wall, and was about to stand up when he took a second look.

  "Mothinghotch!" he shouted.