by Alex Cage
LATER THAT MORNING, Toben exited his own car and walked towards the DHS building. The late morning sun beamed warmth from a clear sky, contrasting with the cool wind. He crossed paths with a few passersby on his way to the front entrance of the building.
A security guard greeted him. “Good morning, Agent Toben.”
“Good morning,” Toben replied.
Before entering the building, he noticed a couple of familiar faces across the street. One was Stokes. He was bent over talking to a guy sitting at the wheel of a green pickup truck. The man had blond hair. Toben remembered seeing him at the sports bar just the night before, but now he had a black eye.
The two exchanged words briefly. Then Stokes stood, pointed his finger at the guy, and dismissed him with a wave before turning away.
The guy in the green pickup rolled up the window and pulled off.
“Hmm,” Toben huffed, walking into the building.
A few minutes later, he was in his team’s office. Boyar had headphones on as he sat typing away at his keyboard. Toben walked towards him. Boyar noticed his approach and slid the headphones down onto his neck.
“You’re in a little late,” he commented.
Toben’s eyebrows lifted briefly. “Yeah… I had a long night,” he said.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. Has Agent Stokes been up here?”
“No, I haven’t seen him yet.”
“Good. Is Agent Chapp in?” Toben asked, looking around the office.
“Yes. She is.”
“Where is she?”
“Oh. She mentioned she was going down to the range to blow off some steam,” Boyar answered, leaning back in his seat and adjusting his glasses.
“That actually sounds like a good idea. I think I may join her for a bit.”
“Okay. But wait—before you go, let me show you something I found from yesterday.”
Boyar leaned forward, jabbing a key on the keyboard. He then grabbed his mouse, whisking it around and performing a number of clicks. An image appeared on his screen. “Here it is.”
It was a picture of two men in the middle of a street, apparently crossing. One of the men had his hand on the hood of a car. The other was trailing behind him at a close distance.
“What is it?” Toben asked, looking over Boyar’s shoulder.
“This guy here should look familiar,” Boyar said pointing at the trailing guy.
“Yeah. That’s our guy, Black.”
“Yep. It’s hard to make out, but he’s wearing the same clothes as in the other footage.”
“Who is he chasing?”
“I don’t know yet, but here’s a better picture of him,” Boyar said, clicking the mouse.
An image of a white male appeared on the screen. He was wearing a dark coat, a cap, and shades.
Toben’s eyes shone. “It’s a bit blurry, but he seems to fit the description the eyewitnesses gave of the guy who dropped the bag with the bomb.”
Boyar nodded.
“So this is proof that Black wasn’t alone.” Toben cuffed his chin. “Who else knows about this?” he asked.
“Just you and me now.”
“Let’s keep it that way. Tell me the moment you ID the other guy.”
“Sure thing,” Boyar replied.
Toben stared at the image for a moment.
Boyar noticed. “What’s the matter? You know him?” he asked jokingly.
“I’m not sure.”
“Huh?”
Toben jolted his head, breaking his glare. “I’m going down to the range. I’ll let Agent Chapp know. Remember, this stays within this unit.”
“Okay.”
Toben exited the office and took the elevator to the lowest level. He stepped out of the elevator into a short dark hallway leading to a small, dimly lit foyer. The sound of faint gunfire zapped his ears as he walked to the check-in counter.
“Good morning,” Toben said.
A gentleman sitting on the other side of the counter looked up. “Good morning. Now where did I put it…?” he mused, scanning his desk and scratching his snow-colored hair.
Toben stood quietly, waiting.
“Ahh, here it is.”
The older man slid a clipboard with a sign-in sheet under the thick glass that divided him from Toben.
Toben signed the form, removed his gun, and passed it all into the man’s wrinkled hands.
“Thank you,” the older gentleman said, browsing the paperwork. “So what will you be practicing with today?”
“Just the Smith & Wesson.”
“Okay.” The man looked down at his desk briefly. “You’ll be at lane six. I’ll buzz you in.”
With that, a humming noise followed by a click echoed from a door on Toben’s right. He entered the range and was hit by the scent of gunpowder. He looked down the fifteen-lane firing range and spotted Ashley. She was in lane five. Under the earmuffs, her hair was tied in a knot. She was in shooting position, looking down range through her safety goggles. She fired three rounds before Toben made it past her, entering his own lane and inspecting the gun that rested on the table in his booth. Once he heard Ashley’s gun slap her table, he peeked around the lane divider.
“Good morning.”
Ashley faced him. “Good morning, Agent Toben,” she replied, completely removing her earmuffs and laying them on the table.
The two were silent for a few seconds as Ashley removed her goggles and placed them on the table next to the earmuffs. She then held a button located on the left partition of her booth. The overhead monorail made a zipping noise and her target began to reel in from the far wall.
“I wanted to let you know Boyar has footage of the other suspect at Fisherman’s Wharf,” Toben said.
“Really?”
“Yep. And he matches the description the eyewitnesses gave.”
Ashley nodded.
“For now, I want this to stay between us,” Toben continued.
“Keeping secrets? That’s something we’re good at.”
“I mean between the three of us in the unit,” Toben said, stepping into his booth and removing the paper target from the overhead monorail clip.
Ashley shrugged and followed him. “Has Agent Boyar identified this guy yet?”
Toben shook his head. “Not yet,” he replied, looking over the paper target.
“I’m curious. Why do you want to keep this a secret?”
Toben sighed, clipped the target back overhead, and turned back to Ashley. “Something is off.”
She smiled. “Maybe you’re a little paranoid. You have a lot going on.”
“I’m not kidding, Ash—last night when I left your place there was a car outside. I’m almost certain someone was surveilling me.”
Ashley tilted her head and squinted her eyes. “You’re serious?”
Toben nodded. “That’s why I want you to be careful,” he said, turning to the table and reaching for his safety glasses.
“I will, but we need to get these suspects in custody so we can get some answers.”
Toben put on the glasses and grabbed the earmuffs. “Well, supposedly, Stokes will be bringing Black in sometime this morning. But I saw him outside earlier, and he looked empty handed.”
“I know he didn’t think catching a guy like Black would be easy.”
“A lot of unanswered questions.”
“There are. I’m heading back up to see if Boyar needs help with anything.”
“Okay, I’ll be up in a little. But remember, be careful.”
Ashley half nodded before turning in the direction of the door.
“And Ash, about last night—I just…”
“Jake, we have work to do,” Ashley cut him off and paced away.
The door buzzed, she opened it, and stepped through. Toben watched until the door slammed shut. He exhaled, turning his attention to his target. After throwing on his earmuffs, he pressed the button that operated the overhead target retrieval system. The monorail th
umped then whined the paper target down range, stopping slightly beyond the halfway mark. Toben picked up the gun and inserted the magazine. He stepped closer to the firing line, orienting himself as best he could with the target line. He lifted the gun, aligning the rear and front sights with the target. He shot a round. There was a short pause before he squeezed the trigger and fired another round. Then another. And then another.
Toben lowered the gun and peered down range. “Not my best work,” he muttered to himself, pressing the retrieval button. The paper target whizzed back to him and the door buzzed open as he laid the gun on the table. Footsteps approached. He turned.
“Oh, you. Good morning,” he said indifferently.
“Morning, Agent Toben. Your subordinate told me you came down here,” Stokes said.
“How can I help you, Agent Stokes?”
“Just wanted to check and see if your team has come across any new information.”
“Anything we know I’m sure you already know.” Toben looked over Stokes’ shoulder. “Where’s Black?” he asked sarcastically.
“My people ran into a—a bit of a snag.”
Toben placed his hands on his hips, chest poking out. “Oh really? And who are your people? They’re agents, right? What are their names?”
Stokes chuckled, stepping closer. “Sorry, Agent Toben, but that’s above your pay grade. Sensitive information. I’m sure your director wouldn’t want to hear about one of her people jeopardizing this investigation.”
Toben lifted his chin in the air and said, “Hmm. I’m sure she wouldn’t want to hear about you using resources to surveil her people. Or that a ‘special agent’ with the DIA is not equipped to handle a man like Black. Maybe you’ve been behind a desk for too long.”
Stokes smiled, turning his attention to Toben’s paper target. “May I?” he asked, pointing at it.
Toben shrugged. “Be my guest.”
Stokes stepped to the target, examining it, while the other folded his arms, quietly watching.
The paper had the bull’s-eye at the center and five concentric scoring rings radiating outward from it. Toben had shot four rounds. There were four bullet holes to the left of the center, all between the third and fourth rings.
Stokes looked back at Toben. His nose crinkled and his lips curled as if he had smelled something bad. He hunched his shoulders. “Um… pretty precise, but not very accurate. Better than what I thought it would be, though,” he said, pressing the button and sending the target back down range.
Toben took in a deep breath and let it out sharply. His eyes glowered and his lips curved down, but he said nothing.
The target stopped near the end of the range, a couple feet away from the bullet trap. Stokes lifted the gun from the table, disregarding the safety goggles and earmuffs. He then aimed down range, firing four rounds in quick succession. When the last bullet was fired, he sat the gun on the table and jabbed the button. The target began to float back to the front. He turned to Toben. “There’s some training that’s so rigorous it’s impossible to forget, no matter how long you’ve been behind a desk. It’ll be a matter of time before I personally go after Black myself. Let me know everything your team finds. It’ll be a shame if your wife finds out where you spend your nights when you’re not at home,” he finished, quickly walking towards the door.
Toben watched him with wide eyes. Slightly shaking his head, he placed his attention back on the target. There were four new bullet holes, all located between the first and second scoring rings—two to the left of the bull’s-eye and two to the right.
Toben’s eyes grew even bigger and his jaw dropped. “Who are you really, Agent Stokes?” he asked himself.
At that question his phone rang. His wife’s number jumped on the display. Toben dashed to the door and was buzzed into the foyer area.
He tapped the answer button. “Hi, Kristi. Is everything okay?”
“No, it’s Matt,” Kristi said. “He’s not at school, again! The principal says he may have to expel him. I’m so tired I just don’t—”
“Hey, hey—don’t worry. I’ll find him and take care of it.”
“Jake I—I—”
“Don’t worry. Just try to relax and wait by the phone for my call.”
“O—okay. I love you.”
“I love you too. Wait for my call.”
Toben ended the call, raced to the counter, collected his gun from the range master, and hurried upstairs to his unit’s office. Boyar was sitting at his own computer and Ashley was looking over his shoulder. Both looked at Toben as he hurried through the door, jogged to his own desk, and typed madly on the keyboard. His screen lit up and he dragged the mouse to an icon, clicked, and an application opened.
Ashley stared at him.
Boyar swiveled his chair in Toben’s direction. “Is everything okay?” he asked.
Toben didn’t answer. He typed into a field marked “tracking ID.” A map came up featuring an orange dot near the Mission Bay area.
Ashley and Boyar looked at each other and shrugged. The two then made their way to Toben’s desk.
“That’s the new tracking app,” Boyar commented.
Toben softly nodded with his eyes glued to the screen.
Ashley stood quietly with her arms folded.
“So… who are you tracking, boss?” Boyar continued.
Toben sighed. “Matt.”
Ashley unfolded her arms. “What’s wrong with Matt?”
“He’s been skipping school,” Toben answered, shaking his head.
“Uh-oh…” Ashley breathed, folding her arms again and taking a small step back from the desk.
Boyar pointed at the screen. “He’s heading north towards the South Park area. He’s moving fast—must be in a car. Where did you put the tracker?”
“In his backpack. He must be in the car with that kid I saw him with last night—uh… I have to go get him.”
As Toben stood from his desk, Hanten entered the office.
“Good morning, everyone,” she said. “Agent Toben. The DIA has come across some new information. We have intel that suggests that a meeting of significance to this case may take place sometime later today. I need you to come to my office for a briefing.”
“Wh—what meeting?” Toben replied.
“Like I said. There’s possibly going to be a meeting today and we have reason to believe Milo Petrak will be there,” Hanten clarified.
“Milo Petrak?” Boyar echoed.
“The arms dealer, Milo Petrak? Who we can never seem to build a case against?” Ashley followed.
“That’s the one,” their boss confirmed.
Toben’s eyes narrowed and his shoulders rose. “Why? What does Petrak have to do with this?”
“Stokes seems to think he may be behind the bomb.”
“I thought Stokes believed Black was behind the bombing.”
“It’s possible that Petrak could’ve supplied Black the materials for the bomb.”
Toben nodded. “Okay. I’ll be there. Just need to make a quick run first.”
“Where to?” Hanten inquired.
“Just a family emergency.”
“Did someone die?”
“No. Not yet, at least.”
“Okay, well, you can make your run afterward.”
“But it’s concerning my son. You know how it is.”
Hanten’s eyes dropped to the floor briefly, she flattened her lips, and she stared at Toben for an awkward moment. “I don’t know how it is, Agent Toben. I’m too busy worrying about this country’s security to be a parent or overly concerned about my own household. I have a whole country of households to worry about. And so do you. I’ll see you in my office,” she concluded, walking out.
“Whoa,” Boyar said, walking over to his desk and sitting.
“I wonder what that’s about.” Ashley said.
“Agent Boyar, anything on the ID of our new guy?” Toben asked, stepping to his own desk, ripping a piece of paper from a small
notepad, and lifting a pen.
“Nothing yet.”
Toben began to write. His two partners looked at one another and continued to watch as he stood and walked over to Boyar with the paper in hand.
“I need a favor. Can you continue to track Matt’s location?”
“Um… sure,” Boyar replied, grabbing the piece of paper and turning to face his computer screen.
Toben turned to Ashley.
“Agent Chapp, I need a favor from you too. Is it possible… you could… um… go get Matt and bring him here?”
Ashley threw a hand on her hip, her head tilted, and her eyebrows raised. “Excuse me?”
“I was wondering if you would go get—”
“No, I heard you. But I’m not a babysitter.”
Boyar turned and chuckled. Toben gave him a look that said mind your business. His laughter disappeared as he once again faced his computer.
Toben carefully placed a hand on Ashley’s shoulder, walking her a few steps away from Boyar. “Look, I have this meeting with Hanten,” he spoke softly. “I think Matt may do something stupid and get himself in trouble.”
“Sounds like a family issue. Why can’t his mom go get him?” Ashley said in a quiet tone.
Toben exhaled. “I need someone who’s good at tracking people. You know, who can follow someone without being seen if needed.”
Ashley laughed, looking at the floor briefly and shaking her head. “Argh… Okay, but you’re going to owe me.”
Toben palmed his hands together. “Thank you,” he said, making a pivot toward the door.
“Before you go,” Ashley said, stepping closer to him. “Don’t ask me to do anything like this again.” And she walked off towards her desk.
Toben stood quiet, staring at her back for a few seconds before walking out of the office.
7.
THE AIR WAS cool under a bright sun. Black sat parked at Pier 40, looking across the four-lane street, beyond the pedestrians, the passing vehicles, and cable car toward the building of The Spinning Sails. He opened the glove compartment and removed his lock pick kit and the gun he took from the kid, Jay. He got out of the car, keeping an eye out as he tucked the gun in the back of his pants and placed the lock pick kit in his pocket. He cut across the busy street and through a parking lot to the front of The Spinning Sails. To his right was a harbor filled with small sailboats. To his left, a white commercial dock building. The building had multiple storage units extending about fifty yards into the bay.
