Strangers and Shadows (12 page)

“Not yet?”

“Not for another four hundred years or so,” Jack said smugly, rather enjoying himself.  Truthfully, it would be another nine hundred years, but it felt good to talk to about it with someone, even if he was fudging the details a little.

Nixon rolled his eyes, not buying any of Jack’s story.  “The bomb in your apartment, which killed two people and wounded a dozen others… how do you explain that?”

“That was the watch that some people claiming to be from my agency planted on me…  Self-destruct sequence.  They must have triggered it, hoping I’d be wearing the watch, but I already have a watch that I like to wear.”  Jack held up his wrist for the agents to see.  His watch was an antique, made over nine hundred—well, actually, it came out next year.  Jack’s father had given it to him when he’d graduated from the academy.  It was a family heirloom that had been passed down for generations.  Jack hoped to pass it on to his son one day.

“We are aware of your watch, Jack.  We let you keep it, after all,” Nixon said.  

Jack continued, “I don’t know why they felt it was necessary to blow me up.”  For the time being, he thought it best not to mention Kid, or his abduction.  There was enough confusion for the moment.  No need to go throwing a kidnapping into the mix.

“How does the gun work?” Nixon asked.

Jack laughed.  “Can’t figure it out, can you?  I’ll tell you, but you have to swear to keep it a secret.”  

Nixon rose, another backhand on its way.

“Come on now, there’s no need for violence.”  Jack put his hands up, holding Nixon off for the moment.  “What would you like to know about it?”

“For starters, what does it fire?  We couldn’t find any magazine or any sort of projectile.”

“It’s an energy weapon.  It fires beams of light, concentrated and propelled by electro-magnets,” Jack said.  If he remembered correctly, it would only be another twenty years before they started manufacturing early prototypes of energy weapons.  

“Why can’t we fire it?”

“Because it’s coded to my DNA.  Without
my
hand gripping the gun, it’s no more dangerous than a rock.  Sounds a bit much, I know, but in the future it solves nearly every murder case where a shooting is involved.  See, every time it’s fired, a transmitter sends the info to the police station’s computers, keeping track of who fired and when and where.  It’s not
completely
accurate, but it beats the hell out of a ballistics report.”  Jack was sure that Nixon didn’t believe a word of what he was saying. 
No doubt they’re recording every bit of it,
Jack thought as he looked around for the hidden cameras he knew must be there, somewhere. 
Years from now, when they realize I was telling the truth, they’ll remember.

Nixon had listened to all he could stomach.  “Take the joker back to his cell, and see that he gets his head looked at by the medic.  I think he may have some brain damage.”  He shook his head, disappointed with Jack’s story.

Out in the hallway, Jack struggled to stay on his feet as the agents pushed him back toward his cell.

“Hey, how long have I been here?” Jack demanded, not really expecting an answer.  

He got what he was expecting.

The agents threw him inside his cell and locked it after him.  Jack heard their footsteps echoing down the hall as they retreated back to their posts.

Jack had been pacing for several minutes when the phone rang.  

A phone?  I’m losing it
, he thought,
there’s no phone in here.  They stripped the place clean.
 

Out of habit though, Jack began to pat his jail-issued jumpsuit down as if searching for his cell.  He found nothing, but the ringing persisted.  He whirled around looking at the bed in his cell.  There was nothing on the bed except a pillow.  Jack went over to the pillow and picked it up.  

There was a cell phone underneath. 
What the hell?
 

He answered it, bewildered.  “Hello?”

“Jack, so good to hear from you.  How are you?  What have you been up to?”  It was Desmond’s voice.

“
You
,” Jack said, anger creeping into his voice.  “What have you done with him?  Where is he?”

“Hold on a second, Jack.  What are you talking about?”

There was something in the man’s voice that made Jack pause for a moment. 
Maybe he didn’t know
.  

Out of nowhere, Jack felt his eyes water, tears gathering at the corner of his eye.  He tried to will them back to the place they came from, but more followed.  He covered the receiver to muffle the raw emotion coming out of him.  Where was this coming from?

“Jack?  Are you still there?” Desmond asked.  

Jack wiped away the tears and cleared his throat.  “I’m still here,” he said.  “Someone took Kid, and I didn’t even see it coming.”

“I’m sorry to hear that Jack.  How can I help?”

“What do you want anyway?  Why even warn me, if you knew they were coming?”  Jack’s throat was raw. 
Get a grip, Jack,
he told himself. 
What the hell is wrong with you?

“Kid is very important to me.  I’ll explain everything, but not like this.  We need to talk, face to face,” Desmond said.

“Well, that could be a problem, Desmond.  I’m in jail.”

“I’m aware,” Desmond said.  “How do you think the phone got there?”

Jack could almost hear a cocky smile on the other end of the line.  “If you knew about me being in jail, then you must have also known that they took Kid.”  Jack’s suspicion rose.

“Yes, I
did
know, and I promise to explain everything.”

“I still don’t understand.  How could you know about me being in jail?  How could you get a cell in here? 
Who are you?
”

“I have certain,
talents
, Jack.  They allow me to do things that might seem incredible to those who don’t possess them, and in most cases, don’t even know they exist.”  Desmond went on, “Now, as I said, I’ll explain, but first you have to trust me.  Do you trust me, Jack?”

Jack thought about it for a moment before replying, “What choice do I have?”

“You are a wise man, Jack.”  Desmond sounded pleased.  “Now, stay on the phone.  All you have to do is exactly what I tell you.  Are you ready?”

“Ready.”

“Walk over to the cell door and open it.”

This is ridiculous
, Jack thought, but he walked over to the cell and tried to slide the door open.  Surprisingly, it slid back easily.  “What now?” Jack asked, as the hairs on his neck stood up.

“Open the door to the hall.”

Jack went to the door of the room and was about to reach for the handle, “There’s no handle on this side of the door.”

“
Whoops
, sorry,” Desmond said.  “There.  How about now?”

To Jack’s amazement, when he looked back down at the door there was a knob.  “
How the hell?
”

“Now, open the door and walk out.  No one will see you.  Meet me outside.”

The line went dead.  Jack tried to find a pocket on his bright orange jumpsuit to put the phone in before realizing that it didn’t have one.  As he thought about what to do with the phone, it vanished from his hand.

This is fucking nuts. 
Not just the phone’s vanishing act, but he was also not at all confident about just walking out of a federal holding facility in, he presumed, downtown New York.  But what other choice did he have?

He opened the door and was about to step out into the hallway when Nixon walked by.  Nixon looked straight at him.

Jack froze, terrified.  Not terrified of Nixon, but of being caught. 
It was a strange thing,
he considered,
to not fear the man, but to fear the power behind the man.
  Jack remained frozen in the doorway and watched as Nixon kept on walking as if he hadn’t seen Jack standing there at all. 
Am I losing it? 
Jack wondered, but he followed Nixon down the hall, growing a little more confident with each step.  

He passed other agents in the hall who, like Nixon, walked right past Jack, either not seeing him or not caring. 
I wish I had a vid of this,
he thought,
me in a bright orange inmate suit, walking around free as a bird among the FBI’s finest
.  Jack chuckled at the thought.

Ahead of him, Nixon paused, turning around.  

Jack froze in his tracks. 
Shit, he must have heard me
.  Whether Nixon had heard Jack or not, he turned back around and continued down the hall, turning left toward the elevators.

Jack took the hallway to the stairs and ran down four flights.  He then went through the lobby and out the front doors.  No one paid him any attention.

A Lot Bigger Than You Think

Jack merged into the flow of pedestrian traffic on the sidewalk.  Not having a destination, he thought it best to put some distance between himself and the FBI building he had just escaped from.  

He walked a couple of blocks and was about to queue up for the hover train when a hand on his shoulder pulled him back.

“Not yet, Jack.” 

Jack whirled around in self-defense mode, ready for anything.  It was Desmond.  The mysterious man hadn’t changed his appearance since Jack had first seen him in the Chinese restaurant.  He still wore a hat and trench coat, like some ancient private eye.

“Why the hell not?”  Jack wanted to know.

“Because look at the way you’re dressed.  That’s why.”

Jack looked down to see the bright orange jumpsuit.  “Oh, yeah.  Wait, I thought people couldn’t see me.”

“They can’t, but it would be rather tiring for me to keep up this little trick forever.  Would you mind terribly if we bought you a change of clothes before we continue?”  Desmond didn’t wait for a reply, but stepped into a department store on their side of the street.

They bought a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt and Desmond had him change into them.  Jack had just finished changing when he shuddered, feeling a brief chill come over him.

“What was that?” Jack asked.

“People being able to see you again,” Desmond said.  “As I said, I was growing tired of keeping you invisible.  People should see you and enjoy the sight of you, just as much as I do.”  Desmond had a smile on his face.

“
Ha-ha
,” Jack replied dryly, not finding the sarcasm very funny.  “So… about that explanation…”

“Of course.  Let’s step into my office, shall we?”

Jack looked around on the sidewalk, then back at Desmond like the man was crazy.  Desmond kept smiling as he turned the corner down an alleyway.  Jack followed, turning the corner in time to see Desmond open a door on the side of a building.  

Jack was puzzled. It was the strangest place for a door.  In fact, if they walked through it, they
should
end up in the middle of a furniture store’s show room.  

Jack walked up to the door that Desmond was holding open for him and looked inside.  It was completely dark.  Looking back at Desmond for an explanation, all Jack got was a shrug.

“Come on, let’s go.”  Desmond gave Jack a gentle shove on the back.  When they had crossed through, the door closed behind them.

Jack examined his new surroundings, forgetting that he had just been in an alley in the middle of New York City, and now he was god knows where.

He was in an office.  It was dark except for the light coming from a lamp sitting on the desk.  The desk was strange.  It was made out of wood, but there were no boards, or seams, or nails, or screws that Jack could see.

Desmond saw him trying to piece everything together.  “It was grown that way.”  

Jack looked up.  “
Huh?
”

“The desk, it was grown into that shape.  That’s why you don’t see any seams.  It’s a single piece of wood.”  Desmond sat down in the chair behind the desk and the chair began to move.  It changed shape to fit the exact proportions of Desmond’s frame.  Desmond motioned for Jack to take the other chair.  “Sit.”

Jack sat warily, waiting for the chair to move, but nothing happened.  He looked to Desmond for an explanation.  

Desmond chuckled, like a parent does watching a child at play.  “The chair responds to your thoughts.  It molds itself to fit the image in your brain of how the chair should feel.  Obviously, you liked your chair fine, just the way it looked to you.”

Jack began to experiment, picturing different kinds of chairs, couches, and benches, but nothing was happening.