by Alex Cage
2.
“WHAT IS THAT?” Lead Agent Jake Toben asked, leaning over a seated man and pointing at a spot on the screen.
The man operating the computer looked over his shoulder at Toben. “It’s not the best footage, and it’s hard to make out with all of the smoke and chaos.”
“That’s why I have you here, computer whiz Agent Boyar. We need to make sense of the footage we have.”
“I’m hardly a computer whiz,” Boyar replied, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Why are we spending so many resources on this anyways, when it happened on the other side of the country? Shouldn’t the local New York agencies handle this?”
“You’re not being a team player, Agent Boyar. An attack on one part of the nation is an attack on us as a whole. That’s probably the biggest threat to this country,” Toben said, patting Boyar on the back.
“What is?”
“That we don’t walk in agreement. We don’t work together like we should.”
Boyar shook his head. “Or it could be that you’re afraid the director will do away with our unit, and you want to justify our existence by butting into someone else’s territory.”
“You’re so negative. You should try being more positive.”
“I’m just saying, the unit is small, there’s only three of us, and the director doesn’t seem to like you very much.”
Toben sighed, looking down at Boyar then back at the computer screen. “Hey, hey, zoom in there,” he said, pointing again. Boyar zoomed in on a person wearing a dark coat, cap, and shades.
“Huh…”
“What is it?” Boyar asked.
“That’s a female.”
“It’s hard to make out, but I’d say yes. A redhead. Her hair is tied into a knot under the cap.”
“Right.”
“So what?”
“She seems pretty calm considering all the chaos happening around her.”
Boyar shrugged.
The office door swung open. Inside stepped an athletic brunette, wearing a dark pantsuit with a DHS jacket.
“Hey, you two,” she said, smiling, “I have some news.”
“Agent Chapp, what do you have?” Toben asked.
“H—Hi, Ashley,” Boyar said with an eager smile.
She innocently winked at Boyar. “Hi, Victor,” she said before facing Toben. “There was an attack near Fisherman’s Wharf just an hour ago. It’s very similar to the attack that took place in New York.”
Wrinkles crossed Boyar’s forehead. “So there was a bomb?”
“Yes. It’s all over the news now,” Ashley said.
Boyar stood from his chair, grabbed the remote, and turned on the TV.
“Wait… There was a protest today, the same as in New York,” Toben said.
“Exactly,” Ashley replied.
“Casualties?”
“Apparently none.”
“Really?”
The news broadcast displayed on the TV showed a reporter questioning one of the protesters on the pier of Fisherman’s Wharf.
“So can you describe what you saw here today, sir?” the reporter asked.
The man cleared his throat, “Well, we were all out here protesting peacefully, then out of nowhere there was a loud boom. Water was everywhere and people were running and screaming all over the place…”
Toben shook his head. “Something is not adding up. We need to get down there now,” he said.
“Sure thing, I’ll drive,” Ashley offered.
“Okay,” Toben said, throwing on his DHS jacket.
“I’ll go get the car.”
Boyar watched as Ashley left the office, Toben noticed wryly.
“That’s not going to happen, and since you two are in the same unit, it shouldn’t happen,” he said.
“What are you talking about?”
“You know what I’m talking about.”
Boyar chuckled, shaking his head.
“Look, Boyar, I need you to stay back here just in case Agent Chapp and I need some information.”
Boyar threw his hand at Toben. “Yeah, yeah, I got it,” he said, turning back to his computer.
“Thank you,” Toben said, walking to the door. “Oh by the way,” he called to Boyar, who looked back at him. “We’re no longer butting into someone else’s territory now that there’s a potentially connected incident in our backyard. See, think positive. We’re all in this together,” Toben continued, smiling.
Boyar shook his head at his computer.
Toben exited the office and walked in the direction of the elevators.
“Agent Toben,” a voice called.
He turned and was met by a middle-aged woman. She had caramel-colored hair and wore a white blouse with a long grey skirt.
“Director Hanten, how can I help you?”
“Where are you off to?”
“Going to follow up on a lead I have.”
Hanten raised an eyebrow. “Oh really, what lead is that?” she inquired.
Toben hunched his shoulders. “Just came across my desk. I’ll let you know more when I find out more about it.”
Hanten nodded. “I’ll hold you to that. Good day, Jake,” she said.
“Good day, Barbra,” Toben said as he entered the elevator, glaring at Hanten’s back as the doors closed. “Ahh, evil,” he sighed, poking the first-floor button.
As the elevator jerked into motion, Toben’s phone rang. Lifting it from his pocket, he stared at it briefly before ignoring the call and replacing it in his pocket. The elevator stopped on the first floor and he made his way through the lobby, out to the front of the building, and into the car with Ashley.
“Ready, boss?” she said, biting her bottom lip.
“Let’s go,” he replied softly, with a smile on his face.
Ashley put the car in gear and cruised down the road, driving a few blocks before turning into an empty parking lot. She threw the car in park, killed the engine, unbuckled her seatbelt, and jumped around Toben’s neck, kissing his face.
“I couldn’t wait to get you alone,” she said.
Toben’s phone rang again, vibrating between them. “Hold on, one sec,” he said, pulling the phone out of his pocket. He ignored the call once more.
Ashley rolled her eyes and exhaled. “So is that her?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you were going to tell her about us.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“What do you mean?”
“We do have a kid together.”
“Oh here we go again. Jake, we had this conversation before. You need to decide what it is you want.”
Toben grabbed Ashley’s hand. “Look, this is a very complicated situation. You knew that getting into it. Situations like this take time. Plus, with us being in the same unit and Hanten putting our team under a microscope—”
Ashley pulled her hand back. “I get it. Let’s just keep it professional,” she interrupted. She buckled her seatbelt and fired up the engine.
“Ashley, wait—”
“Just call me Agent Chapp, please. So where to, Agent Toben? Fisherman’s Wharf, right?”
Toben dropped his head, nodding slightly. “Yes,” he sighed.
THE DRIVE TO Fisherman’s Wharf was short and quiet. Neither Toben nor Ashley said another word during the ride. The area was swarming with law enforcement and emergency responders. The two parked on the street, slid from the car, ducked under the caution tape, and walked towards the pier. A local San Francisco police officer approached them, stopping them by raising his open palm to chest height.
“I’m sorry, but you’re not allowed past this point,” he said.
Ashley removed her badge, flipping it open. “I’m Agent Ashley Chapp and this is Agent Jake Toben. We’re with the Department of Homeland Security,” she asserted.
“Oh. Well, in that case, welcome to the party.”
“Can you fill us in on what happened here?” Toben asked.
“Sure, f
ollow me,” the officer responded.
As they followed the officer onto the deck, Toben’s phone rang. “You two go ahead. I have to take this,” he said, pulling it out of his pocket for the third time.
Ashley rolled her eyes and followed behind the officer.
“Hi, honey,” Toben said into the phone.
“Hi,” a woman’s voice answered. “I called you twice and didn’t get you.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m busy with this case.”
“Well, Matt is in trouble again at school.”
“Again? What did he do this time?”
“The principal mentioned something about skipping school. I was so mad I tuned some of it out. He wants us to meet him at the school.”
“Aaah… sweetie, do you think you can handle the meeting yourself? I’m on this case.”
“Of course you are.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means your family takes a back seat to your job.” She raised her voice.
“Wait, Kristi, now that’s not fair. I work matters of national security.”
“You say that every time.”
“That’s because there are a lot of threats to national security.”
“I think it’s because of parents like you that there are so many threats to the nation. I’ll be fine going on my own… again. Enjoy the rest of your day.” Kristi hung up.
“Kristi, Kristi… ah boy.” Toben exhaled, placing his phone in his pocket and creaking over the pier’s deck to Ashley and the officer.
“Are we good?” the officer asked Toben as he approached.
Ashley looked at Toben, eyebrows raised in anticipation of his answer.
“Yes,” he answered, nodding.
“Well, good,” the officer replied. “Okay, as I was starting to tell Agent Chapp here, witnesses saw two men. One was a slender white man. He was wearing a cap and sunglasses. The other was a black man with an athletic physique. From what we gather, the white man dropped a small bag on the deck and the black man picked it up and tossed it into the water over there.”
“That’s it?” Ashley inquired.
The officer shrugged. “The good news is no one was hurt.”
Toben looked around the pier and noticed a security camera outside of a restaurant. He looked at Ashley. “The eye in the sky may be able to provide more information,” he said, throwing his head in the direction of the restaurant.
The two thanked the officer for his assistance and walked over to the restaurant. Inside was quiet—no customers, and apparently no one working. The employees were standing around talking and looking out the restaurant windows at all the activity. They stared hard at Toben and Ashley as they entered.
“Is there a manager here?” Toben asked the hypnotized employees.
All of them, mainly young adults, looked at the pair with bewilderment. Eventually one of them pointed towards the bar, where a bartender was wiping the counter.
“Thank you,” Toben said sarcastically.
“Talk about customer service,” Ashley followed up, as they walked towards the bar.
“Excuse us, sir,” Toben greeted the bartender. “Are you the manager here?”
The bartender stopped wiping and looked up. “Yes, I am.”
Toben flashed his badge. “I’m Agent Toben, and this is Agent Chapp. We’re with the Department of Homeland Security.”
“Nice to meet the two of you. How can I help you?”
“The camera outside, does it work?”
“Yes, sir, it does.”
“Was it recording during the… incident?” Ashley asked.
“Yes, ma’am, it was.”
“Great, can we see it?”
“Sure. Follow me.”
He led them through a dark hall to the back of the restaurant. There was a small six-by-six room, lit only by the glow of computer monitors. It smelled of heated electronics and dust.
“Here we are,” the manager said, stepping inside the room and moving behind a desk with a mouse and keyboard.
“Can you roll the footage taken just before the explosion?” Ashley asked.
“Sure thing,” he said, typing on the keyboard then moving the mouse.
The footage popped up on the monitor showing law enforcement walking around and then, with a click of the mouse, the figures moved backwards in fast motion as static raced across the screen.
“Did you notice anyone or anything unusual before the explosion?” Ashley asked as the footage rolled back.
“No, we’ve been pretty quiet. The last customer we had was some guy, but he left just before the chaos.”
“Some guy? What did he look like?” Toben inquired.
“I don’t know… he looked to be in good shape, about your complexion, dark jeans, plain shirt, light coat, seemed normal, but smart—”
“What do you mean, smart?” Ashley interrupted.
“Well, we had a discussion about that law 324 and the bombing in New York. Apparently, he didn’t know anything about it before today.”
“And?”
“For someone who just heard about it today, he seemed to know a lot about the psychology behind the bomber. Like, what would make him tick.”
Ashley’s forehead wrinkled above squinted eyes.
“Hold right there,” Toben requested.
“Here?” the bartender asked, pausing the video.
“No. Go up a couple frames.”
He clicked the video up a few frames. “That’s him. That’s the guy I was talking about.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“I see you have a printer. Can you print that frame out?” Ashley asked.
“Yes, I can.”
“We will need a copy of all the footage from today too,” Toben said.
“I can do that too,” the bartender replied.
The printer powered up, zipping and jerking for a few moments before the manager removed the printed image from the tray and handed it to Toben.
“Here you go. I’ll start copying the footage to a file.”
“Thank you,” Toben said before snapping a picture of the image and typing away on his phone. He then threw his head towards the doorway, gesturing for Ashley to follow him. The two stepped outside of the room. Ashley folded her arms with her head slightly tilted and her lip line arching downward.
“I just sent the image to the team email addresses,” Toben said. “Call Boyar and have him run a search for this guy. I’ll wait for the copy of the footage.”
“Sure thing, boss,” Ashley pouted, walking to the front of the restaurant.
Toben shook his head and sighed, looking down and focusing on the image. “Who are you and where are you?” he whispered.
3.
BLACK WAS DRIVING in the financial district. He was on Kearny Street, one of the busiest streets in the entire city. Running the length of the street on both sides were shops and restaurants. There were many people hiking up the vibrant sidewalks, in and out of the various stores and eateries. The sound of traffic and music outside enveloped the car. I don’t remember it being this busy the last time I was here, Black thought to himself.
After a few more minutes on the road, he veered into the driveway of a large hotel, a concrete structure rising about thirty stories high. Above the front entrance was a walkway that crossed over Kearny Street, leading to a park in Chinatown. Black parked under the walkway in front of the hotel entrance. He grabbed a billfold from the glove compartment and exited his black Viper GTS, passing through the automatic doors into the lobby. His clothes were still a little wet from the incident at the pier. He squeaked across the hotel’s lobby floor towards the front desk clerk. He had a few eyes on him, and those who walked by kept at a safe distance. The receptionist welcomed him with squinted eyes followed by a forced smile.
“G—good afternoon, sir,” he said.
Black nodded. “Good afternoon.”
“How may I—” the clerk started before crinkling h
is nose, seemingly overtaken by an unpleasant smell.
Black noticed, looking down at his shirt and sniffing. He looked at the clerk. “Ocean water,” he explained briefly, hunching his shoulders.
“Oh, I see,” the man softly replied, raising his eyebrows. “How may I help you?”
“I’d like a room.”
“Okay, do you have a reservation with us?”
“I don’t.”
“Okay.” The clerk exhaled, moving the computer mouse and staring at the screen. “I’ll have to see what we have available, sir,” he said slowly.
As the receptionist typed away, Black turned and looked around the lobby. He had already found his ETWs on the first floor. He knew where the exits were. He knew there were no threats. He noticed many objects that could be used as weapons.
The man regained his attention with a, “Sir, we have a room available.”
Black turned to face him.
“It’s a king-size suite.”
“That’ll work.”
“How many nights will you be staying?”
“Just two.”
“Which credit card will you be using today?”
“I won’t.”
The clerk narrowed his eyes and poked his lip. “Well, how will you be paying?” he asked.
“Cash.”
“I see. Well, there will be a slight additional fee per night.”
“That’s fine.”
The clerk handed Black some forms to fill out. He then provided key cards and details regarding parking and different amenities at the hotel and the surrounding area. Black paid for the room and thanked the clerk before walking back outside. After parking his car, he grabbed his travel sack from the trunk and took the elevator up to his room. He found it neatly organized and smelling like fresh linen and pine-infused surface cleaner. There were the usual suspects of a hotel room: a bed, a couple of small dressers, a TV, a small desk, a small fridge, and a bathroom. He walked to the bed, tossing his travel sack on it. The contents of his pockets he emptied onto the small desk before entering the bathroom and taking a steam shower.
