This is only the preface and the first chapter because it's all I have finished up to this point. I thought I would post it to see what you guys think I should change. I'd appreciate constructive criticism.
So… cold. Freezing. Face hurts. Leg so numb I can’t feel it. His eyes fluttered open to a cold room full of baggage. Where am I? His hands felt their way through a pool of his blood to some bags a few inches away. He attempted to use the bags to lift himself up. No good. Leg too numb.
His hands felt the wall. Steel plates and rivets were cold to his touch. That struck him as odd. Where would he be in France that had walls made of steel? Jail? No, he wasn’t in jail. He was in France to put people in jail, but not to be put there himself. That wasn’t part of his job description.
Where’s Jess? He called out for his wife, but no answer came back. Wherever he was, his wife was not there as well. Then he remembered that his wife was dead thanks to terrorists. His mind began to search for answers. He could hear the wind rushing by outside so he knew he was in some kind of transport. Cold enough in here. Not a boat because of the wind. Not a car. His mind put two and two together. He was in the baggage hold of an airplane.
Pulling himself over to a wall, he sat up. There weren’t very many bags in the room. That struck him as odd. Usually planes were booked so full there wasn’t much room in the hold. Private Jet? His assumption was correct, as there were only two other passengers on board.
He heard the wheels being lowered. It was obviously time to land, and wherever they were, he was going to get away. He didn’t care what it took. He had to get back to his job and not let France down. His idea of a job well done was not disappearing in the middle of an investigation.
Moments later the plane had landed, and someone was just outside the hold. A small door opened and two people entered with flashlights. They pointed them at his face and he put his hand up to block the uncomfortable light.
He tried to stand up, but one of them pushed him back down. The one that pushed him down was a man in his upper teens. He was quite burly and could easily beat Garret in a brawl. The other was a woman also in her upper teens. The man looked French but the girl seemed Austrian. Interesting duo. And they own a private Jet?
He tried to get up again. This time it was an even worse fate that awaited his attempt. The man slugged him in the jaw, and he slumped back to the ground. His last thought before he became unconscious: What is going on?
Garret Johnson walked into his office on the second floor of the Federal building in Washington D.C. He was an Investigator, but that didn’t mean he had a glamorous office like you saw on TV. It was quite the opposite. A plain, wooden desk with some pictures and papers on it was the only item of furniture in the room other than that chair that went with it and a few filing cabinets against the wall.
The walls were barren as well. A few pictures and an advertisement poster for the Bureau were all the wall had on display. He hated his office. It was probably one of the worst in all of the buildings many examples of offices. Well, not the worst. He’d seen the worst this building had to offer and it was not a particularly pleasant space. It was only a cubbyhole for that matter. Just a partitioned office on the first floor. Not somewhere he wanted to work anytime soon.
Setting his leather briefcase on the desk, he hung his coat on the coat hangar near the door. Walking behind his desk to the small but comfortable chair, he sat down and flicked the power switch on his computer. A secretary had already brought in some paper work, and a cup of coffee. He sipped on it and noticed that he still needed to file some of his older paperwork. Boy, he was getting careless these days. There were also a few folders on his desk labeled “Potential Case.”
He flicked through the folders that were marked as mentioned then set them back down. Some of them seemed interesting, but most of them were not in his field of expertise. Mostly they required only an evidence recovery squad. What they would need him for he didn’t know. He specialized in homicide, terrorism, and other heinous crimes. He looked up as a secretary walked in and handed him a new folder.
“The Director asked you to look at these, Mr. Johnson.”
“The Director, you say? That’s very interesting. It must be important for him to recommend it. Thanks.”
“My pleasure, sir.”
She walked out and garret picked up the file. As soon as he opened it and glanced at its contents he realized it was very top priority. The case was of foreign nature. It hadn’t occurred in the United States. It had occurred in France of all places. France really has its troubles. It was interesting though. The Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation only gave his top agents the foreign cases. If he was having Garret look at the case then the Director obviously thought very highly of him.
He continued to glance through the papers in the file, but most of it was simple information that he did not need. The murder weapon was an American made Colt .45 but the French had found no prints on it and the registration number was filed off. It made for a useless piece of evidence as such. There had been no point in pursuing that lead. All it would have done was lead them on a wild goose chase to nowhere.
The information on the victim was very soft. The only idea he could draw from the papers was that the man was some sort of French government type. When he was finished reading he folded the file back up and sat at his desk pondering the situation. After a few moments of careful deliberation he stood from his seat and slid the folder into his open briefcase. Grabbing his coat and tossing it over his arm, he walked out of his office and made sure to lock the door behind him.
He nodded to a few of his colleagues as he passed them in the hallway. The elevators were set off to the side from his office and he stepped into the one that had just opened for an elderly gentleman to step out of. Keying it to take him to the top floor, he leaned back against the wall as it climbed the many stories up. Stepping off, he admired the Directors foyer. This is a good spot for the Director to have his office. It’s far enough from any entrance to make it a hard target. Although it could be hit from above. Garret nodded to the secretary and took one of the seats near her desk.
“He’ll see you in a moment, Mr. Johnson.”
“Alright, thank you.”
Garret stole a glance around the room. In all his experience as a Federal Agent he had never been to the Directors office. It was his first time there, and for some reason it reminded him very much of a doctor’s office. There was the waiting area, where he was seated now, and then there was the plain door that led into the office. That was all excluding the secretary that would tell you when to go in. For some odd reason he was glad that this was not his office.
The wall was strewn with the usual décor of paintings and pictures. Most of the paintings were copies of those dating back to the Renaissance. Other than those paintings and pictures the walls were rather bland. There were a few lounge tables in a room off to his left, and there were a few plants strewn here and there. That part of the office somehow reminded him of a café.
“He’ll see you now.”
“Alright.”
Garret hadn’t even heard the secretary and director communicate that he wanted him to come in. Maybe he had been too caught up in his own thoughts to hear it. He walked into the office to see two men seated at the desk. One was the Director himself, the other an unknown person. Unknown to him anyway. For all he knew it could be someone from a different agency. Although he had the distinct air of a foreign diplomat. Garret nodded to the Director.
“Sir.”
“Please sit down, Agent Johnson.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He took the seat next to the unknown man and looked over at the Director. As he took a deep breathe of air, an unfamiliar scent wafted into his nose. It was like a very strong perfume mixed with a bit of sweat. The source of the smell he quickly identified as the man sitting next to him. Something inside of his head clicked and he realized he was seated next to the French Ambassador to the United States.
“This is the man you are putting on the case?” The Frenchman asked.
The English he heard coming from the mans mouth was flawless. It shocked him a bit that he did not hear a hint of an accent. To Garret that was amazing. Although he had never before met a Frenchman, he had expected the man to speak with a bit of an accent and maybe in broken English. This man had shocked him by pulling something that Garret had never expected.
“Yes it is. This is Special Agent Garret Johnson. He specializes in terrorism, homicide, and other heinous crimes. If anyone can catch your killer it’s him.”
Garret was surprised by the Directors confidence in his abilities. This would only be the third mission he would undertake and the two before had been rather simple cases. Obviously the director saw something in him that he didn’t.
“Well, if you think so highly of him then we will trust him to get the job done.”
The Director seemed to realize that Garret did not know the man that he was seated next to. He hastened to solve that problem.
“Agent Johnson, this is the French Ambassador Philippe Gaston.”
Garret nodded to him.
“A pleasure to meet you,” he turned his attention back to the Director. “May I ask a question?”
The Director responded only with a nod.
“The file did not give me much on the case. Who was killed? What did they do around the crime scene?”
“That’s more than one question,” the Director interceded with a smile. It was Philippe that answered his question however.
“If I may, the name of the victim must remain secret until you arrive. And once you arrive you will know the details of the crime scene.”
Garret’s mouth opened as if to ask a question but the Directors hand came up to fend off any other questions that Garret had. It would seem that the director had had enough of Garret’s questions although he had only asked two.
“You will take a United flight out of Dulles in a few hours. Now I think you should go home and get your things together. You will be permitted to bring your wife along on the trip. I’m sure she would absolutely love to go to Paris. Most women do.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The Director nodded and motioned for Garret to leave the office. Garret stood and nodded to both men before taking his leave of the office. On his way down the elevator he thought about this whole scenario. He had reservations about the whole thing and it made him a bit uneasy. He would have to be on his guard from now on. Any slip-ups could end up fatal.
Moments later he had reached the confines of his office and was seated in his chair. The computer was still on and he flicked it off with an absent minded thought. The drawer on his right opened when he pulled it and he grabbed his credentials and stuffed them in his pocket. Sliding his coat over his shoulders as he stood, he grabbed the briefcase again and left his office after making sure the door was locked. Taking the elevator down to the lobby, he walked outside.
The parking lot was surprisingly full. At the end where he parked, there were always more than a handful of empty parking places because people were out of town. It wasn’t so today and there were cars packed all around his new Dodge Viper. A Taurus and a Chevy Astro Van has it blocked in on the sides. The Viper looked extremely out of place but he didn’t care. He’d rather park near the older cars than all the new ones. It was a lot safer on his paint job.
Unlocking the door on the driver’s side with his key, he climbed in and closed the door behind him. Buckling his seat belt, it was the law and it was also very safe, he turned the key in the ignition and was satisfied to hear the thrum of the motor. He moved slowly out of the parking spot after shifting the gear into reverse. Then, shifting into drive, he sped out of the parking lot and into the street beyond.
After a few quick turns, some long stops at traffic lights, and weaving between the always-slow semis, he made his way onto the interstate. His house was only twenty minutes from work, but he always took the interstate in order to cut off some of that time. The radio blared some new country/western song and he hummed along to the tune. His hands tapped the steering wheel as he steered through traffic onto his off ramp and then onto his access road. A few stop signs later he pulled into his driveway and turned the car off.
As he stepped out of the luxurious seat of his car and onto the pavement of his driveway, he closed and locked the cars door. His neighborhood was known for its safety, not to mention the neighborhood watch, but when you were in his line of work one could never take too many precautions. He stowed his keys in his pocket and walked towards the door, but it opened before he could reach it and his wife, Jessica, stood framed by the off-white doorframe. Garret walked up to her, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. She returned it then pulled back. Garret smiled at her.
“Want to know why I’m home so early?”
“Obviously,” She said with a smile.
“We’re going to Paris.”
“We’re what?” The look of surprise on his wife’s face gave him pause and he failed to answer. She seemed shocked by his admission. “We’re going to Paris?”
“Yep. I’ve been assigned to assist the French government in investigating a homicide. They told me I could bring you with me.”
“Yay! I can go shopping and do all kinds of stuff!”
Garret smiled and nodded at Jess’s retreating back. She ran up to their room and began pulling out clothes to put in suitcases. He went down to the basement and got their suitcases, and then brought them to their room. As the two packed, they discussed what they would do when he wasn’t investigating the homicide.
Meanwhile, outside of the house and cut off from the Johnson’s view, a man slowly approached the Viper in their driveway. In his hand was a black, leather bag full of equipment and a very lethal device. He crawled underneath the viper and went to work as the Johnson’s finished their packing. Garret took a glance at their plane ticket to see that they had only two hours before it left.
“We better go.”
“Alright. I’m driving,” Jessica said with a grin on her face.
He tossed her his keys and grabbed the two suitcases they had packed. She always drove him to the airport when he had to go somewhere so she knew how to get there faster. Garret shrugged and accepted his demotion to passenger as they stepped out the door. There was no one to be seen except for the neighbor across the street that was mowing his lawn. Jessica keyed the car to unlock with the remote.
They were suddenly thrown back through their front room window and into the room. Garret landed on the sofa and Jessica fell through the glass coffee table. Garret slowly sat up and noticed his hand covered in blood. Outside were the smoking ruins of what had once been his car. He was too hurt to be happy or sad. Jessica was laying on the coffee table but he couldn’t get to her. Sirens blared and vehicles pulled up to the house. They were just blurs as he fell back onto the couch and passed out. The last thing he remembered seeing were men hurrying towards him.
When he woke up, he wasn’t at his home. Instead he was lying on a rather uncomfortable bed in a hospital room. Through the blurs of his unaccustomed eyes he could see people standing around him and looking at him. He could feel an IV in his arm and made sure not to move that arm too much. Other than a very sore head, and a raw hand he felt fine.
“Where am I?”
It was an obviously stupid question that he already knew the answer to. It was very like him to ask a question as stupid as this one and most people knew that he did. None of the people around him seemed to mind, and even a few of them laughed at the question. The sound of a familiar voice answering his question snapped his head around to its owner.
“You’re in the hospital, obviously.”
The voice was that of his colleague and long time friend, Chris MacDonahugh. The fact that Chris was there along with these other official type’s made him wonder what exactly was going on. He couldn’t seem to comprehend why so many people had taken up residence in his room. He posed his question.
“Why are you all here?”
“To protect you, of course,” Chris spoke up.
“Protect me… I don’t understand.”
The expression on his face proved to the bunch that he really didn’t. It made absolutely no sense to him why he would require protection. So his car blew up, big deal. Cars blew up all the time from internal problems. What was such a big deal about his car blowing up?
“Your car was rigged.”
“My car was what?”
“It was rigged. Someone tried to kill you and your wife.”
Garret blinked.
“Why would someone want to kill my wife and I?”
“Perhaps because they don’t want you on their tail.”
“How did you…?”
“The Director informed us after we asked to be your guard. He was very grateful that we volunteered instead of him having to ask someone to do it.”
“I still don’t think I understand.”
“You do have a concussion.”
“I do?”
Chris stepped around the side of the bed and pulled up one of the available chairs. Taking a seat in the not so comfortable chair, he stared long and hard at Garret, pondering how to respond. It was obvious to Chris, however, that he would have to tell the truth of the matter and so he composed what he was about to say before he said it.
“When your car exploded it threw you through the front room window and into the living room. You hit your head on the windowsill in the process of flying through the shattered glass. When the authorities arrived you were unconscious and bleeding,” Chris said as he wiped sweat from his brow. “You were both really beat up, but Jessica took the brunt of the injury. They took her into surgery. All you go….”
“They took her where?!”
“To surgery. As far as we know she’s still there.”
“I….”
The door swung open and every head in the room turned to watch the doctor step in. His smock was clean and white, which meant he’d just cleaned up. He was still rubbing his hands slightly. His face was grim, and everyone’s face lit up with anticipation of what was about to come out of the man’s small mouth.
“Mr. Johnson, while I’m glad that you are awake, I have some bad news for you. I regret to inform you that your wife died on the operating table.” He said it with a calm, unaffected tone that only made it sound worse to Garret.
“No!” Garret burst into tears and flailed in bed. It took everyone in the room, doctor included, to pin him down. Despite being constrained, tears exploded out of his eyes and continued to run down his face. His heart, always fragile with him, felt like it had had a hole punched through it. Could he ever possibly recover from such a tragedy?
It ended up taking Garret a week to fully recover from the wounds he had sustained in the bombing. It would, however, take him a lot longer than that to recover from the loss of his loving wife, Jessica. There marriage had lasted only a year before she was stolen from him by whoever had rigged his car. It was not an easy subject for him to think about let alone talk about. Not many people broached the subject. It was only the people he just barely knew that did.
He was glad that most people declined to do so. If they had then he would have broken down again. The night that he found out, he’d cried without end. By the time he was finished and couldn’t shed another tear his bed was soaked completely where his head had been. Talking was a rarity for him. Chris came and tried to cheer him up, or at least get him to talk, but all of his attempts ended in failure. Even the Director came to see him and try to cheer him up, but he also failed.
Garret was quoted as saying that his heart felt like shrapnel after an explosion. The incident had scarred him so much that his heart was ripped into pieces and he mourned for weeks. A few days after his release from the hospital they had the funeral. It was a cloudy, rainy, dark day. It was the epitome of what you saw in the movies. It was a quiet affair with much crying, but none of it came from Garret. His face was tight from the stitches and his eyes were still red and puffy from the hours he’d spent crying. No tears seemed able to come to his eyes then.
The Bureau rescheduled his flight to France and it was only a few days after the funeral that he left for his assignment. The cab ride to the terminal, he and the others had thought it best that he not drive in his current state, was slow and uneventful. After passing through the heightened security, courtesy of the terrorist attacks on September 11, 2001, he made his way to the departure gate because he was just barely on time. He did not have time to lounge around and look through the small shops.
The airliner sat outside, and his first class ticket got him a nice seat in the front of the craft. Taking a window seat, the one assigned to him as stated on his ticket, he stowed his carry on and briefcase in the overhead compartment. Because he was a federal agent, and because he had the papers allowing it, he was allowed to carry his firearm with him onto the plane. The leather care on his thigh rubbed against the wall of the Jet as it taxied out onto its designated runway.
Takeoff came only a few minutes after the jet reached the runway, and Garret breathed a sigh of relief. He was always relieved when a smooth takeoff occurred. Planes sometimes worried him because of all the times you hear about a plane crashing just after takeoff. The seat next to him remained vacant and Garret took a cursory glance around the cabin. For a Europe bound plane it was surprisingly empty. So, he turned his head and looked out the window.
The in-flight movie was one he had already seen so he ignored it. It was a cop film full of action, suspense, romance, and other such genres. He chose to sleep or look out the window over being bored watching a flick he had just recently seen. Quietly passing his time on the flight, he eventually fell asleep. When he woke up, France was sliding by beneath him as the jet descended through the cloud cover.
It wasn’t long before the rolling expanse of the beautiful city of Paris came into view. As the jet descended towards the airport, Garret took a good look at the Eiffel Tower. He had wanted to go there with Jessica, but he couldn’t now. With a slight jolt, the United jet settled down on the runway and slowed to taxi to the gate. Once the terminals bridge was latched onto the airliner, the fasten seat belts light went off and the Captain thanked them for flying United. Garret grabbed his bags from the overhead and walked off the jet. He took his first steps on French soil.
Anarchy Duo
By: Brad Mitzelfelt
Preface
So… cold. Freezing. Face hurts. Leg so numb I can’t feel it. His eyes fluttered open to a cold room full of baggage. Where am I? His hands felt their way through a pool of his blood to some bags a few inches away. He attempted to use the bags to lift himself up. No good. Leg too numb.
His hands felt the wall. Steel plates and rivets were cold to his touch. That struck him as odd. Where would he be in France that had walls made of steel? Jail? No, he wasn’t in jail. He was in France to put people in jail, but not to be put there himself. That wasn’t part of his job description.
Where’s Jess? He called out for his wife, but no answer came back. Wherever he was, his wife was not there as well. Then he remembered that his wife was dead thanks to terrorists. His mind began to search for answers. He could hear the wind rushing by outside so he knew he was in some kind of transport. Cold enough in here. Not a boat because of the wind. Not a car. His mind put two and two together. He was in the baggage hold of an airplane.
Pulling himself over to a wall, he sat up. There weren’t very many bags in the room. That struck him as odd. Usually planes were booked so full there wasn’t much room in the hold. Private Jet? His assumption was correct, as there were only two other passengers on board.
He heard the wheels being lowered. It was obviously time to land, and wherever they were, he was going to get away. He didn’t care what it took. He had to get back to his job and not let France down. His idea of a job well done was not disappearing in the middle of an investigation.
Moments later the plane had landed, and someone was just outside the hold. A small door opened and two people entered with flashlights. They pointed them at his face and he put his hand up to block the uncomfortable light.
He tried to stand up, but one of them pushed him back down. The one that pushed him down was a man in his upper teens. He was quite burly and could easily beat Garret in a brawl. The other was a woman also in her upper teens. The man looked French but the girl seemed Austrian. Interesting duo. And they own a private Jet?
He tried to get up again. This time it was an even worse fate that awaited his attempt. The man slugged him in the jaw, and he slumped back to the ground. His last thought before he became unconscious: What is going on?
Chapter 1
Garret Johnson walked into his office on the second floor of the Federal building in Washington D.C. He was an Investigator, but that didn’t mean he had a glamorous office like you saw on TV. It was quite the opposite. A plain, wooden desk with some pictures and papers on it was the only item of furniture in the room other than that chair that went with it and a few filing cabinets against the wall.
The walls were barren as well. A few pictures and an advertisement poster for the Bureau were all the wall had on display. He hated his office. It was probably one of the worst in all of the buildings many examples of offices. Well, not the worst. He’d seen the worst this building had to offer and it was not a particularly pleasant space. It was only a cubbyhole for that matter. Just a partitioned office on the first floor. Not somewhere he wanted to work anytime soon.
Setting his leather briefcase on the desk, he hung his coat on the coat hangar near the door. Walking behind his desk to the small but comfortable chair, he sat down and flicked the power switch on his computer. A secretary had already brought in some paper work, and a cup of coffee. He sipped on it and noticed that he still needed to file some of his older paperwork. Boy, he was getting careless these days. There were also a few folders on his desk labeled “Potential Case.”
He flicked through the folders that were marked as mentioned then set them back down. Some of them seemed interesting, but most of them were not in his field of expertise. Mostly they required only an evidence recovery squad. What they would need him for he didn’t know. He specialized in homicide, terrorism, and other heinous crimes. He looked up as a secretary walked in and handed him a new folder.
“The Director asked you to look at these, Mr. Johnson.”
“The Director, you say? That’s very interesting. It must be important for him to recommend it. Thanks.”
“My pleasure, sir.”
She walked out and garret picked up the file. As soon as he opened it and glanced at its contents he realized it was very top priority. The case was of foreign nature. It hadn’t occurred in the United States. It had occurred in France of all places. France really has its troubles. It was interesting though. The Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation only gave his top agents the foreign cases. If he was having Garret look at the case then the Director obviously thought very highly of him.
He continued to glance through the papers in the file, but most of it was simple information that he did not need. The murder weapon was an American made Colt .45 but the French had found no prints on it and the registration number was filed off. It made for a useless piece of evidence as such. There had been no point in pursuing that lead. All it would have done was lead them on a wild goose chase to nowhere.
The information on the victim was very soft. The only idea he could draw from the papers was that the man was some sort of French government type. When he was finished reading he folded the file back up and sat at his desk pondering the situation. After a few moments of careful deliberation he stood from his seat and slid the folder into his open briefcase. Grabbing his coat and tossing it over his arm, he walked out of his office and made sure to lock the door behind him.
He nodded to a few of his colleagues as he passed them in the hallway. The elevators were set off to the side from his office and he stepped into the one that had just opened for an elderly gentleman to step out of. Keying it to take him to the top floor, he leaned back against the wall as it climbed the many stories up. Stepping off, he admired the Directors foyer. This is a good spot for the Director to have his office. It’s far enough from any entrance to make it a hard target. Although it could be hit from above. Garret nodded to the secretary and took one of the seats near her desk.
“He’ll see you in a moment, Mr. Johnson.”
“Alright, thank you.”
Garret stole a glance around the room. In all his experience as a Federal Agent he had never been to the Directors office. It was his first time there, and for some reason it reminded him very much of a doctor’s office. There was the waiting area, where he was seated now, and then there was the plain door that led into the office. That was all excluding the secretary that would tell you when to go in. For some odd reason he was glad that this was not his office.
The wall was strewn with the usual décor of paintings and pictures. Most of the paintings were copies of those dating back to the Renaissance. Other than those paintings and pictures the walls were rather bland. There were a few lounge tables in a room off to his left, and there were a few plants strewn here and there. That part of the office somehow reminded him of a café.
“He’ll see you now.”
“Alright.”
Garret hadn’t even heard the secretary and director communicate that he wanted him to come in. Maybe he had been too caught up in his own thoughts to hear it. He walked into the office to see two men seated at the desk. One was the Director himself, the other an unknown person. Unknown to him anyway. For all he knew it could be someone from a different agency. Although he had the distinct air of a foreign diplomat. Garret nodded to the Director.
“Sir.”
“Please sit down, Agent Johnson.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He took the seat next to the unknown man and looked over at the Director. As he took a deep breathe of air, an unfamiliar scent wafted into his nose. It was like a very strong perfume mixed with a bit of sweat. The source of the smell he quickly identified as the man sitting next to him. Something inside of his head clicked and he realized he was seated next to the French Ambassador to the United States.
“This is the man you are putting on the case?” The Frenchman asked.
The English he heard coming from the mans mouth was flawless. It shocked him a bit that he did not hear a hint of an accent. To Garret that was amazing. Although he had never before met a Frenchman, he had expected the man to speak with a bit of an accent and maybe in broken English. This man had shocked him by pulling something that Garret had never expected.
“Yes it is. This is Special Agent Garret Johnson. He specializes in terrorism, homicide, and other heinous crimes. If anyone can catch your killer it’s him.”
Garret was surprised by the Directors confidence in his abilities. This would only be the third mission he would undertake and the two before had been rather simple cases. Obviously the director saw something in him that he didn’t.
“Well, if you think so highly of him then we will trust him to get the job done.”
The Director seemed to realize that Garret did not know the man that he was seated next to. He hastened to solve that problem.
“Agent Johnson, this is the French Ambassador Philippe Gaston.”
Garret nodded to him.
“A pleasure to meet you,” he turned his attention back to the Director. “May I ask a question?”
The Director responded only with a nod.
“The file did not give me much on the case. Who was killed? What did they do around the crime scene?”
“That’s more than one question,” the Director interceded with a smile. It was Philippe that answered his question however.
“If I may, the name of the victim must remain secret until you arrive. And once you arrive you will know the details of the crime scene.”
Garret’s mouth opened as if to ask a question but the Directors hand came up to fend off any other questions that Garret had. It would seem that the director had had enough of Garret’s questions although he had only asked two.
“You will take a United flight out of Dulles in a few hours. Now I think you should go home and get your things together. You will be permitted to bring your wife along on the trip. I’m sure she would absolutely love to go to Paris. Most women do.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The Director nodded and motioned for Garret to leave the office. Garret stood and nodded to both men before taking his leave of the office. On his way down the elevator he thought about this whole scenario. He had reservations about the whole thing and it made him a bit uneasy. He would have to be on his guard from now on. Any slip-ups could end up fatal.
Moments later he had reached the confines of his office and was seated in his chair. The computer was still on and he flicked it off with an absent minded thought. The drawer on his right opened when he pulled it and he grabbed his credentials and stuffed them in his pocket. Sliding his coat over his shoulders as he stood, he grabbed the briefcase again and left his office after making sure the door was locked. Taking the elevator down to the lobby, he walked outside.
The parking lot was surprisingly full. At the end where he parked, there were always more than a handful of empty parking places because people were out of town. It wasn’t so today and there were cars packed all around his new Dodge Viper. A Taurus and a Chevy Astro Van has it blocked in on the sides. The Viper looked extremely out of place but he didn’t care. He’d rather park near the older cars than all the new ones. It was a lot safer on his paint job.
Unlocking the door on the driver’s side with his key, he climbed in and closed the door behind him. Buckling his seat belt, it was the law and it was also very safe, he turned the key in the ignition and was satisfied to hear the thrum of the motor. He moved slowly out of the parking spot after shifting the gear into reverse. Then, shifting into drive, he sped out of the parking lot and into the street beyond.
After a few quick turns, some long stops at traffic lights, and weaving between the always-slow semis, he made his way onto the interstate. His house was only twenty minutes from work, but he always took the interstate in order to cut off some of that time. The radio blared some new country/western song and he hummed along to the tune. His hands tapped the steering wheel as he steered through traffic onto his off ramp and then onto his access road. A few stop signs later he pulled into his driveway and turned the car off.
As he stepped out of the luxurious seat of his car and onto the pavement of his driveway, he closed and locked the cars door. His neighborhood was known for its safety, not to mention the neighborhood watch, but when you were in his line of work one could never take too many precautions. He stowed his keys in his pocket and walked towards the door, but it opened before he could reach it and his wife, Jessica, stood framed by the off-white doorframe. Garret walked up to her, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. She returned it then pulled back. Garret smiled at her.
“Want to know why I’m home so early?”
“Obviously,” She said with a smile.
“We’re going to Paris.”
“We’re what?” The look of surprise on his wife’s face gave him pause and he failed to answer. She seemed shocked by his admission. “We’re going to Paris?”
“Yep. I’ve been assigned to assist the French government in investigating a homicide. They told me I could bring you with me.”
“Yay! I can go shopping and do all kinds of stuff!”
Garret smiled and nodded at Jess’s retreating back. She ran up to their room and began pulling out clothes to put in suitcases. He went down to the basement and got their suitcases, and then brought them to their room. As the two packed, they discussed what they would do when he wasn’t investigating the homicide.
Meanwhile, outside of the house and cut off from the Johnson’s view, a man slowly approached the Viper in their driveway. In his hand was a black, leather bag full of equipment and a very lethal device. He crawled underneath the viper and went to work as the Johnson’s finished their packing. Garret took a glance at their plane ticket to see that they had only two hours before it left.
“We better go.”
“Alright. I’m driving,” Jessica said with a grin on her face.
He tossed her his keys and grabbed the two suitcases they had packed. She always drove him to the airport when he had to go somewhere so she knew how to get there faster. Garret shrugged and accepted his demotion to passenger as they stepped out the door. There was no one to be seen except for the neighbor across the street that was mowing his lawn. Jessica keyed the car to unlock with the remote.
They were suddenly thrown back through their front room window and into the room. Garret landed on the sofa and Jessica fell through the glass coffee table. Garret slowly sat up and noticed his hand covered in blood. Outside were the smoking ruins of what had once been his car. He was too hurt to be happy or sad. Jessica was laying on the coffee table but he couldn’t get to her. Sirens blared and vehicles pulled up to the house. They were just blurs as he fell back onto the couch and passed out. The last thing he remembered seeing were men hurrying towards him.
~        ~        ~        ~
When he woke up, he wasn’t at his home. Instead he was lying on a rather uncomfortable bed in a hospital room. Through the blurs of his unaccustomed eyes he could see people standing around him and looking at him. He could feel an IV in his arm and made sure not to move that arm too much. Other than a very sore head, and a raw hand he felt fine.
“Where am I?”
It was an obviously stupid question that he already knew the answer to. It was very like him to ask a question as stupid as this one and most people knew that he did. None of the people around him seemed to mind, and even a few of them laughed at the question. The sound of a familiar voice answering his question snapped his head around to its owner.
“You’re in the hospital, obviously.”
The voice was that of his colleague and long time friend, Chris MacDonahugh. The fact that Chris was there along with these other official type’s made him wonder what exactly was going on. He couldn’t seem to comprehend why so many people had taken up residence in his room. He posed his question.
“Why are you all here?”
“To protect you, of course,” Chris spoke up.
“Protect me… I don’t understand.”
The expression on his face proved to the bunch that he really didn’t. It made absolutely no sense to him why he would require protection. So his car blew up, big deal. Cars blew up all the time from internal problems. What was such a big deal about his car blowing up?
“Your car was rigged.”
“My car was what?”
“It was rigged. Someone tried to kill you and your wife.”
Garret blinked.
“Why would someone want to kill my wife and I?”
“Perhaps because they don’t want you on their tail.”
“How did you…?”
“The Director informed us after we asked to be your guard. He was very grateful that we volunteered instead of him having to ask someone to do it.”
“I still don’t think I understand.”
“You do have a concussion.”
“I do?”
Chris stepped around the side of the bed and pulled up one of the available chairs. Taking a seat in the not so comfortable chair, he stared long and hard at Garret, pondering how to respond. It was obvious to Chris, however, that he would have to tell the truth of the matter and so he composed what he was about to say before he said it.
“When your car exploded it threw you through the front room window and into the living room. You hit your head on the windowsill in the process of flying through the shattered glass. When the authorities arrived you were unconscious and bleeding,” Chris said as he wiped sweat from his brow. “You were both really beat up, but Jessica took the brunt of the injury. They took her into surgery. All you go….”
“They took her where?!”
“To surgery. As far as we know she’s still there.”
“I….”
The door swung open and every head in the room turned to watch the doctor step in. His smock was clean and white, which meant he’d just cleaned up. He was still rubbing his hands slightly. His face was grim, and everyone’s face lit up with anticipation of what was about to come out of the man’s small mouth.
“Mr. Johnson, while I’m glad that you are awake, I have some bad news for you. I regret to inform you that your wife died on the operating table.” He said it with a calm, unaffected tone that only made it sound worse to Garret.
“No!” Garret burst into tears and flailed in bed. It took everyone in the room, doctor included, to pin him down. Despite being constrained, tears exploded out of his eyes and continued to run down his face. His heart, always fragile with him, felt like it had had a hole punched through it. Could he ever possibly recover from such a tragedy?
~        ~        ~        ~
It ended up taking Garret a week to fully recover from the wounds he had sustained in the bombing. It would, however, take him a lot longer than that to recover from the loss of his loving wife, Jessica. There marriage had lasted only a year before she was stolen from him by whoever had rigged his car. It was not an easy subject for him to think about let alone talk about. Not many people broached the subject. It was only the people he just barely knew that did.
He was glad that most people declined to do so. If they had then he would have broken down again. The night that he found out, he’d cried without end. By the time he was finished and couldn’t shed another tear his bed was soaked completely where his head had been. Talking was a rarity for him. Chris came and tried to cheer him up, or at least get him to talk, but all of his attempts ended in failure. Even the Director came to see him and try to cheer him up, but he also failed.
Garret was quoted as saying that his heart felt like shrapnel after an explosion. The incident had scarred him so much that his heart was ripped into pieces and he mourned for weeks. A few days after his release from the hospital they had the funeral. It was a cloudy, rainy, dark day. It was the epitome of what you saw in the movies. It was a quiet affair with much crying, but none of it came from Garret. His face was tight from the stitches and his eyes were still red and puffy from the hours he’d spent crying. No tears seemed able to come to his eyes then.
The Bureau rescheduled his flight to France and it was only a few days after the funeral that he left for his assignment. The cab ride to the terminal, he and the others had thought it best that he not drive in his current state, was slow and uneventful. After passing through the heightened security, courtesy of the terrorist attacks on September 11, 2001, he made his way to the departure gate because he was just barely on time. He did not have time to lounge around and look through the small shops.
The airliner sat outside, and his first class ticket got him a nice seat in the front of the craft. Taking a window seat, the one assigned to him as stated on his ticket, he stowed his carry on and briefcase in the overhead compartment. Because he was a federal agent, and because he had the papers allowing it, he was allowed to carry his firearm with him onto the plane. The leather care on his thigh rubbed against the wall of the Jet as it taxied out onto its designated runway.
Takeoff came only a few minutes after the jet reached the runway, and Garret breathed a sigh of relief. He was always relieved when a smooth takeoff occurred. Planes sometimes worried him because of all the times you hear about a plane crashing just after takeoff. The seat next to him remained vacant and Garret took a cursory glance around the cabin. For a Europe bound plane it was surprisingly empty. So, he turned his head and looked out the window.
The in-flight movie was one he had already seen so he ignored it. It was a cop film full of action, suspense, romance, and other such genres. He chose to sleep or look out the window over being bored watching a flick he had just recently seen. Quietly passing his time on the flight, he eventually fell asleep. When he woke up, France was sliding by beneath him as the jet descended through the cloud cover.
It wasn’t long before the rolling expanse of the beautiful city of Paris came into view. As the jet descended towards the airport, Garret took a good look at the Eiffel Tower. He had wanted to go there with Jessica, but he couldn’t now. With a slight jolt, the United jet settled down on the runway and slowed to taxi to the gate. Once the terminals bridge was latched onto the airliner, the fasten seat belts light went off and the Captain thanked them for flying United. Garret grabbed his bags from the overhead and walked off the jet. He took his first steps on French soil.
