by Matt Lincoln
It was sobering to see just how much destruction a single person had managed to cause. Since I’d been unconscious the whole time, this was the first time I saw it. I shuddered as I thought of how much worse it could have been. Even more than fear, though, I felt intense anger welling up in me. Whoever had done this had made the case personal, and I was determined to find him.
I made it to the police station just ten minutes later. The police officer at the front desk directed me toward a conference room at the back of the station, and I could tell that something was going on as soon as I walked in. The room was mostly bare except for a long table in the middle, and everyone had gathered around it. There was an energy in the air as everyone spoke excitedly. Agent Nelson looked up and smiled as I walked in.
“Agent Hills, I’m glad you’re here,” he said. “Agent Gardner has managed to trace the origin of some components used to make the bomb. We have a starting point now for you and Agent Chapman to begin your investigation.”
“Really?” I asked as I stepped into the room and toward Gardner, who was sitting at one end of the long table. She had all her equipment laid out around her and was taking up a solid fourth of the entire table. Junior and Patel were standing behind her and looking at something on the computer.
She looked up as I approached and flashed me a grin.
“Oh, hey, Charlie. You look like a pirate,” she commented. “And yeah, I traced the parts back to this tiny shop in Shinjuku, Japan. It took a few days, but I’m sure of it.” She sounded so proud of herself that I decided to let the pirate comment slide. She wasn’t wrong.
“That’s pretty cool,” I remarked. “How did you manage to do that using just the fragments from the bomb? Aren’t most components pretty much the same?”
“Yes, they are,” she nodded, turning to her computer and pulling something up. She turned the screen toward me and pointed to a tiny piece of metal I couldn’t identify. “This, however, is a specially made component. It’s used to build the mechanism that ignites the bomb. Standard ones come in five millimeters. However, this one is nine millimeters and has a slightly beveled edge, see?”
She traced her fingers along something on the screen. I thought I could see what she was talking about. I nodded, urging her to continue.
“Anyway,” she continued, “it may seem like a tiny difference. Negligible, even. But those few millimeters make a huge difference. They allow the bomb to create a bigger explosion while still remaining small enough to conceal. Now, normally just the size difference wouldn’t be enough. However, the way the edge is beveled is what makes it unique. The bevel makes the ignition mechanism move more smoothly, which significantly reduces the chance that the bomb will fail to go off. This makes it much more accurate and deadly, and there is only a single place in all of Japan where this exact component can be purchased.”
“Wow,” I admired, genuinely impressed. If I’d seen that thing lying on the floor of the office, I would have dismissed it as just being another random bit of metal. Gardner had managed to figure out exactly what it was and exactly where it had come from.
“She’s been working herself to the bone to obtain that information,” Patel reprimanded, placing a hand on Gardner’s shoulder. “She’s hardly gone home in the past three days. She certainly got results, though.”
She smiled warmly at Gardner in a way I noticed she only did with her, and sometimes with Castillo. It was kind of jarring to see how radically different her moods could be.
“Undoubtedly,” Wallace agreed, chiming in for the first time since I’d gotten here. “We still don’t know who purchased the part from the shop, but at least now we have somewhere to start. Agent Hills and Agent Chapman, you’ll be leaving the day after tomorrow. Agent Gardner, I’d like you to go with them, as well.”
“Me?” Gardner asked, snapping her head up so quickly that Patel flinched at the movement. “No. I mean, I can’t. I’m not a field agent. I did the basic training, but I don’t have military or police experience like everyone else.” Her eyes were wide, and she was shaking her head.
“Every lead we’ve had in this case, we’ve obtained through your efforts,” Wallace stated calmly but firmly. “Even before we were looking into it officially, you were the one spending your time investigating. If it hadn’t been for you, we wouldn’t even have known about this case. I sincerely believe that your expertise would be better utilized if you were close by during the investigation.”
A hush fell over the room as everyone watched the conversation and waited for Gardner’s response.
“That being said, if you really feel uncomfortable with it, I won’t force you,” Wallace amended. I looked at Gardner, who seemed to be seriously thinking it over.
“I’ll go,” she declared, and her voice was louder than it usually was. “You’re right. I’ll be more useful there than I would be here. I’ll go too.”
Patel made a noise like a squeal and pulled Gardner into a hug. I was a little impressed with Gardner, to be honest. It seemed like she had changed a lot in the short time we’d been working together.
13
Fiona
I could hardly believe how things had gone during the meeting. My initial reaction when Wallace had asked me to go to Japan with Charlie and Junior had been to refuse. I wasn’t a former police officer like Charlie or Junior or an ex-Marine like Miranda. Even Naomi had more experience with guns and was an expert in hand-to-hand combat. I could barely shoot a gun. Something in me had stirred at the prospect of going on the mission, though. Even while the better part of my brain was screaming that it was a terrible idea, a tiny part of me was thrilled with the idea of getting to be in the field. I wouldn’t actually be seeing much action, according to Wallace. I’d pretty much stay at the hotel the whole time, but being there with them would mean I could analyze any evidence they found immediately and in person. We also wouldn’t have to worry about the twelve-hour time difference.
As I drove home that evening, I found myself feeling increasingly more excited as I thought about it. I’d never traveled internationally before. I knew that I was going for work, but just the thought of being on an entirely different continent, all the way on the other side of the world, was exciting in and of itself.
I smiled as I thought about how I would never have agreed to something like this a year ago. Before I joined MBLIS, I worked from home specifically because I didn’t like going outside or interacting with other people. Years of being bullied all through middle and high school had caused me to become paranoid. Anytime I met someone, I immediately assumed that they didn’t like me. No matter what I did, I always assumed it wasn’t good enough, and I would drive myself crazy over it, hoping that no one would notice what a bad job I’d done. Ever since I’d met Miranda and Naomi, I had slowly started to move away from that mindset. Becoming friends with Junior and Charlie had helped even more. I was really glad that I had met all of them.
As I turned off the main street and into my neighborhood, I noticed a thin plume of dark smoke rising up over the tree line. Something about it instantly gave me a bad feeling. I told myself that it was probably just someone burning leaves or a barbecue that had gotten a little out of control, but I couldn’t shake the feeling. As I made my way through the winding streets of my neighborhood, I noticed that the cloud of smoke seemed to be growing both larger and closer, and the feeling of dread only grew.
As I made the final turn into my street, my fears were confirmed. It was my house that was on fire. By now, the plume of smoke had more than tripled in size, and I could see the glowing light of flames beyond every window in my home. I parked my car haphazardly on one side of the street and jumped out. I didn’t bother to waste any time closing the door before I sprinted toward my house. By now, several of my neighbors had come out of their houses and were beginning to gather on my lawn to watch the blaze. I intended to rush past them, but before I could, a hand shot out and closed around my arm.
“Fiona, stop!” I turned
to see who had grabbed me, ready to hit them in response. It was my next-door neighbor, a middle-aged woman named Clara. She had made me cookies when I’d first moved in, and her teenage sons would sometimes mow my lawn and shovel snow off my driveway in the winter. We weren’t close, but I would say hello on the rare occasions we happened to see each other. “I already called the fire department, sweetheart. Whatever’s in there isn’t worth risking your life!” I snatched my arm roughly away from her.
“I have to get my dog!” I shouted before I turned and rushed back toward the house. The doorknob was scorching hot when I touched it, and when I looked at my hand, I could already see it blistering. I ran around the house to the back door. The doorknob on this side didn’t feel hot, but my key wouldn’t work on this door. It only locked from the inside. Since it wasn’t hot, I knew that the area immediately beyond wasn’t yet engulfed in flames. I took my jacket off and wrapped it around my face and neck. Once I was sure all the sensitive parts of my head were covered, I raced forward and threw myself bodily against the window next to the door.
I hissed as I felt shards of glass slice through my right arm and part of my back, but I pushed the pain away. I took the jacket off and started coughing as soon as I did. Even though the fire hadn’t reached this part of the house yet, the smoke in this room was thick and suffocating. I dropped to the floor, but even down here, I couldn’t see much. Night had already fallen outside, and the smoke was only making it darker.
“Beau!” I called frantically, breaking into a coughing fit as the scream strained my throat. “Come on, Bobo, where are you?”
I started to panic, imagining a million scenarios where I’d been too late, and Beau was already dead.
“No, shut up,” I hissed at myself. “He’s fine. He’s just hiding somewhere, waiting for you to find him. He’s fine. We’re both going to be fine.”
“Beau!” I screamed again, crawling slowly through the house. Even though there was less smoke closer to the ground, it was still difficult to yell past the stinging in my throat.
I remembered that Beau liked to hide under my bed during thunderstorms, and I would sometimes find him huddled there when I came home from work if it happened to rain while I was out. Praying that I was right, I stood up and moved as quickly as I could toward the stairs. The fire had already engulfed the entire living room, and I could feel the heat as I ran by on my way up the stairs. The smoke was, fortunately, less thick up here, but I had no doubt that I only had minutes before the entire house went up in flames. As I made it up to the second floor, I realized that the fire in the living room had, in fact, spread through the ceiling and up to the second floor.
My office, which also doubled as a gaming room, was completely on fire already. Although I was sure that I would mourn the loss of my gadgets later, right now, I was only focused on finding Beau. I ran in the opposite direction of my office and toward my bedroom. My heart was pounding as I ran inside and dropped to the ground, hoping that I was right and that Beau would be there waiting for me. I looked under the bed, but I couldn’t see anything but blackness. I started to hyperventilate as I pulled out my phone to use as a flashlight. The smoke was causing my eyes to water, and my hands were shaking so hard that I fumbled and nearly dropped the phone. Finally, I got the small light on it to ignite and pointed it under my bed. I nearly started sobbing when the light from the phone illuminated the area under the bed, and I saw Beau there looking back at me.
“Come on, Bobo. Come with mommy,” I called, reaching my hand out toward him. He whined before crawling toward me quickly, and I pulled him tightly against my chest. I stood up again and ran toward the stairs, but froze when I realized that the fire had spread halfway up to the second floor by now. I ran back into my bedroom and toward the window, shifting Beau so that I could hold him with one arm while I pushed the window open.
I leaned out of the open window and tried to gauge how far down it was. It was only one floor. How hurt could I get jumping from that distance? I held Beau tightly against me with both arms as I lifted one leg over the windowsill. I stepped down unsteadily over the slanted tiles, gasping in shock as my foot slipped and I fell forward. I sucked in a large amount of smoke as I did, and I tried not to shake Beau as my body was wracked with a coughing fit.
I pushed past the burning in my lungs and stood up straight and slowly brought my other leg up and over the windowsill. Behind me, I could feel the heat growing more intense, and I knew that the fire was inching closer. I shifted Beau again so that I could hold him with one arm while I used the other one to balance. He whined as I squeezed him tightly. I knew that I was probably hurting him, and I felt horrible, but he’d just have to put up with a little discomfort. I gasped as my foot slipped on one of the smooth tiles. The roof was slanted, and there was really no place to gain a steady foothold. I knew that as soon as I pushed myself forward and off the windowsill, there was a good chance I would fall straight off if I wasn’t careful.
Once I had both legs over the edge, I began to scoot forward as slowly as I dared with the fire still raging behind me. There were about twelve inches of sloped ceiling tile below the window, then a steep drop to the ground. I moved as close to the edge as I could. Below me, I could see several of my neighbors watching as I slowly moved forward. I could see my neighbor Clara yelling something, but I couldn’t hear her over the roar of the flames. I never realized before this moment just how loud fire could be.
Before I could prepare myself mentally to jump down, one of the tiles I was sitting on cracked and slipped beneath me, causing me to slide forward and suddenly drop off the edge of the roof. I twisted my body around sharply in an attempt to keep from crushing Beau underneath me. I managed to cushion my fall with my own body, but landed hard on my elbow in the process. I grit my teeth as I hit the ground, and pain radiated through my arm.
“Oh my word, are you alright?” I looked up and saw Clara leaning down over me.
“I’m okay,” I assured her as I stood up shakily. It didn’t seem like I’d broken anything, and even though my arm seriously hurt, even that didn’t seem too bad. From the top, the distance between the window and the ground had felt insurmountably long. Now that I was looking back at the house, though, I realized that the fall had only been a few feet.
“Oh, you poor thing,” Clara fussed as she dusted me off. I wasn’t sure what she thought that would accomplish, and it actually kind of hurt any time she accidentally brushed against one of my burns. She seemed like she was trying to be nice, though, so I let her.
“Could you hold him?” I asked as I held Beau toward her. “I need to make some calls.”
“Of course, sweetheart,” Clara nodded, taking my dog out of my arms.
As she did, I realized that my hands were shaking. I was probably going into shock or something. I wasn’t a field agent, so I didn’t have experience dealing with trauma victims like the other agents. I needed to call Wallace. I couldn’t be sure, but I had a feeling that this fire wasn’t just a coincidence.
I reached into my pocket for my phone and froze when I heard gunshots ring out through the street.
“Get down!” I yelled, although several of my neighbors had already thrown themselves onto the ground. Some, including Clara, had actually taken off running.
I raced to take cover behind a row of hedges at the front of my lawn. Once I was there, I pulled my gun out of my bag. I’d never used it outside of the shooting range. It was actually so rare for me to even touch it that I never carried it in a holster and always just kept it in my bag. I’d learned how to use it as a part of my training to become a federal agent, but I wasn’t a great shot.
I peered up over the top of the hedges and looked around. On the other side of the street, I spotted a dark blue minivan. Hanging out of the passenger’s side was a man wearing black clothes and holding a rifle. I lifted my gun and began to fire, cursing as every shot missed. The man fired back in response, and I narrowly avoided being hit by ducking down beneath
the bushes again. I heard the screeching of tires and shot back up.
“Oh, hell no, you’re not getting away,” I muttered to myself as I stood up and raced after the van. The man sitting on the passenger’s side leaned out of the window and continued to fire at me, but I kept chasing after them. I knew that I was reckless, but I was too enraged to think better of it. These people had set my house on fire, almost killed my dog, and then shot at me and all of my neighbors. I couldn’t let them just drive away after that. I fired my gun at the windows and tires until I ran out of bullets, but to no avail. The van was rapidly gaining distance, and before it could get too far away, I committed the license plate to memory. A second later, the van raced around a corner and disappeared.
My throat and lungs were burning as I struggled to catch my breath. I could hear myself wheeze every time I drew a breath, and I realized belatedly that it probably hadn’t been a good idea to sprint after a van right after inhaling that much smoke. I wanted to scream and cry and rage as I slowly made my way back toward my house. I made it back just as the fire department was pulling up, along with a few police cars. I assumed one of my neighbors must have called them in response to the gunshots.
It was too late, though. The house was already completely gone, and I couldn’t bear to look at it for more than a moment. Everything I owned had been in there. Even though I knew it was all just stuff that could be replaced and that Beau was the only irreplaceable part of my life, it was still sad to watch the little home I’d carved out for myself go up in flames so easily. At least they’d be able to stop the fire from spreading and destroying other people’s homes.
