Red, black, and blue ink marks were splashed across numerous pages, notations of a dedicated but frustrated man in search of something important. Fragmented blurbs of thought had been jotted down in hasty scrawl, statements and queries which led to more confusion, question marks punctuating the unanswered ink ramblings followed by dates and random years with more question marks.
Then he noticed something that caught him off guard: the word ‘RUSSIANS’ in large cap and triple underlined. He frowned and began going back through the papers, searching for more information about this new discovery. It popped up again a few moments later, this time in reference to a Russian attack. But attacking where, Ethan found no indication. The last occurrence made him sit up straighter. It read: ‘RUSSIANS — 1986’.
This was 1986. What could that note possibly mean? Ethan could think of only one thing: Tobias had been investigating Russian activity right before he died. Which meant that what he’d just found in the midst of his uncle’s files was no longer old information. As with everything else he’d read, the answer to the question of how it all fit together remained elusive.
Ethan moved on to a different sheet of paper littered with Tobias’s scribble, one out of several he’d already examined. Underneath it was yet another newspaper clipping. The title of this article mentioned an unidentified badly beaten man who had been found in Alexandria, Virginia and was admitted to a local hospital for treatment. He suffered from brain trauma and had no memory of who he was. After sufficient recovery at the hospital he was admitted to St. Jeremiah’s. The unknown man wrote only in unintelligible jumbles; no words, just letters and numbers. The article ended by asking the community for help with any information they could provide on the John Doe. In the top left corner of the page was Tobias’s familiar scrawl, which read: “Connection to Code?? Operation Backslider.”
Tobias must have been hot on the trail of something big — but what? The periodical was dated from the 70s — more than a decade and a half ago — but perhaps there were answers at St. Jeremiah’s if this John Doe still resided there.
Ethan’s mind felt like how it used to when he crammed for a college exam — overstuffed with information — but he was still no closer to understanding. It was time to call in a favor.
He stood up, gathered his things into his duffel bag, and left the library, throwing a wave of goodbye to Lucy as he walked out. She was too engrossed in her book to notice, or maybe she was avoiding eye contact on purpose. Ethan wouldn’t blame her; he’d worked her hard today.
Jogging down the steps two and three at a time, Ethan headed straight for the phone booth on the corner when he reached the sidewalk. It was a snug fit with the duffel bag, but he managed to close the door all the way. After digging some coins out of his pocket, he deposited them in the machine and dialed.
Four rings.
“Detective Hansen.”
“And what took you so long to get to the phone Old Man River?”
Art puffed a breath then lowered his voice. “Ethan, this is no time for funnies. Are you OK?”
“I’m fine. Listen, I need a favor,” Ethan said.
“Anything,” Art said without hesitation, and Ethan almost felt bad for the line he’d just thought up.
But not quite. “You need to get a wheelchair; I don’t like the thought of your clumsy old ass walking around that office with fragile bones. Anything could happen.”
“Jesus, this is serious, man!” Art’s annoyance was palpable. “There was a full on assault at your uncle’s house early this morning. I’ve been trying to call you ever since — what the hell is going on?”
“I know. I was there.”
A brief moment of silence preceded Art’s whispered outburst. “And you are just now telling someone?”
Ethan felt like a child being scolded. With two kids, Art got plenty of opportunities to perfect such an edge to his voice. “Well, I didn’t want to put any stress on your heart. Have you been taking your meds?”
“They’re multi-vitamins, not meds,” Art snapped. “I don’t even know why I bother explaining these … You know what? Never mind, now listen — shut up with the wisecracks, and tell me what kind of crap you’ve gotten yourself into!”
Ethan figured it was time to put the jokes on hold for now. “I’ve stumbled onto something, but I don’t know what. I can’t say any more than that. You’ll just have to trust me, okay?” He waited while Art processed this, hoping his friend wouldn’t take the withholding of information personally.
Finally, Art spoke and Ethan heard with relief the assent in the other man’s voice. “What do you need me to do?”
Ethan took a moment to compose his thoughts and glanced around to double check that he wasn’t being watched. “Okay, but this is going to sound weird, so just bear with me.”
“I’m here,” Art said. “Lay it on me.”
“Can you check and see what the word is on the street about any sort of Russian activity?”
There was another beat of silence before Art’s voice boomed through the receiver, heedless of being overheard. “Dammit, Ethan — I told you to stop joking around!”
“I’m serious, Art. I think something big is up, and Tobias might have been involved. That’s why he was killed.”
On the other end Art took a slow breath, calming himself for a softer tone. “Listen to me, I know it may be hard to come to terms with, but it was a suicide and — ”
“Look, before you say anything, hear me out. I know something strange is going on, I can feel it. Remember the trash cans outside?”
“The what?”
“The trash cans outside Tobias’s place, sitting curbside. They were full. Why would Tobias bother taking out the trash if he was planning to kill himself?”
There was a heartbeat’s pause before Art hissed, “Is that all you’ve got? You want me to believe that just because he took the trash out, he may not have eaten a bullet? That’s a stretch, Ethan. It would be like saying anyone who’s ever killed themselves wouldn’t even consider brushing their teeth that day because what would be the point, right?”
“Hold on, that’s not all,” Ethan said. “He left a message on my answering machine. Yes, I admit it did sound like he was about to end it all, but just before the recording finished he spoke out to someone else in the room.”
“Look, man, I know you want to believe — wait. What do you mean he spoke out?”
“Before the line disconnected he clearly said, ‘What are you doing here?’ to someone. Art, I’m not making this shit up. Are you sure Bagowski hasn’t come up with anything yet?”
“So far nothing points to anyone being there except your uncle,” Art said. “And no, I still haven’t heard back from Bags. We’ll have more when the ballistics report comes in. You’re certain he was speaking to someone?” Before waiting for an answer, he added, “You should bring in the tape for Fredericks. He’ll want to hear it.”
“I, uh, kind of erased it,” Ethan said, feeling like an idiot.
“You kind of erased it. Or you did. Why would you delete the damn thing?”
Ethan huffed out a sigh. “I don’t know. I had a million things going through my mind — and Tobias practically left the combination to his safe on the message. What if there’s a leak at the station?”