you’re thinking. I mean just see if there are any more details you can recall. Maybe something that didn’t seem important when you first wrote down your notes.” His phone rang then, and as he answered it, he inclined his head back towards the car, his hand resting on Mark’s shoulder.
Jim and Jessie exchanged cell numbers, and he and Jim left her to work things from her end. Mark climbed into the car and tried not to think about how surreal it was to be voluntarily in the passenger seat of his tormentor’s car. The short trip could have been awkward, but Jim kept his eyes on the road and his ear to his phone as he continued to direct operations. Jim concluded the conversation and dropped the phone into a center compartment between the seats, then cast a look at Mark. “Do you need to call your work and let them know you won’t be back in today?”
Mark reached for the phone. “Yeah, if you don’t mind.” Mark explained that his errand was taking longer than he thought, and if it was okay for him to take the rest of the afternoon off and make up the time the next day. Gary was fine with it, didn’t even ask many questions, and instead, acted thrilled that he’d have the next evening off to take out the waitress. Mark hung up, a smile lingering at the excitement in the younger guy’s voice.
When they arrived at the FBI building, Jim whisked him through security, telling the personnel that he was bringing Mark in for questioning.
In the elevator, Mark wiped his hands on his thighs, and then shoved them in his pockets and leveled a look at Jim “I’m not in any trouble, am I?” He had to ask. He had to be sure. The guy had only spoken a few words on the ride over and even now, Jim stared at the lit numbers on the panel. He might have been alone in the elevator for all the attention he paid Mark. The lack of communication was nerve wracking.
Jim’s brow furrowed and he gave a little shake of his head, before turning to Mark. “No. Why would you be in trouble?”
“I don’t know…it’s just you told security that you were taking me up for questioning.” Mark shrugged and allowed a touch of sarcasm to flavor the next sentence. “I can’t imagine why that would make me nervous.”
The doors slid open and Jim put his hand on Mark’s shoulder again as he guided Mark around the corner. “Listen, right now, you’re what we call an asset. You have info I want. Sorry I’m not getting that across to you. I have about a million things going through my mind right now. I’ve got to get all the different agencies on board, coordinate efforts, make sure we’re all talking to each other, and-well, more than you probably want to know. Regardless, I should have been more sensitive in my wording. Sorry about that.”
Mark hadn’t been looking for an apology, just reassurance, but he was pleasantly surprised and accepted it. “No problem.”
They came to what looked like a conference room with computers on tables along the walls and a long table in the middle. “Here we are. I’m going to get you started looking at some photos of suspects.” Jim yanked out a chair in front of a computer, his fingers flying over the keyboard. In seconds, the screen was full of photos. He showed Mark how to go to the next screen when he needed to, and then he clapped him on the shoulder. “Okay, I’m going to go let the others know I’m back. This room is going to get crowded soon. You feel comfortable with this?”
Mark smiled, appreciating Jim’s attempt to be less intimidating. “Sure. I’m good.”
Jim left, but within a few minutes, more people trickled in. Some sat at the conference table behind Mark, others took spots at other computer terminals and soon the clacking of keys filled the air. Some of the pictures he studied were mug shots, but others were obviously surveillance photos. A few times, Mark stopped and closed his eyes, allowing the dream to replay in his head. Nobody bothered him except for one woman who asked if he’d like something to drink. He accepted a cup of coffee.
While Mark plowed through the pages of suspects, Jim returned and began issuing instructions to some of the others in the room, who then left, presumably to carry out those instructions. As soon as one person exited, another entered. The atmosphere crackled with tension and Mark had a hard time concentrating on the photos.
“I got CPD on line two.”
“Jim, DHS is holding on three.”
“What about DOD? Anybody call them yet?”
“Right. I want all your manpower available…No, we can’t do that…It would create panic.”
Mark put his hands over his ears and concentrated on the computer screen. He knew some people had photographic memories, but he wasn’t one of them, except when it came to the dreams. For days after having one, he could call it up at will, like it was stored in a computer file in his brain. He put that ability to full use over the next thirty minutes.
“Uh, Jim…?’ He turned in his seat, and waved his hand. Jim broke off the conversation he was having with another agent. He strode across the room and Mark pointed at the screen. “This looks like one of them.” The pic appeared to be taken with a security camera. It was grainy, but he recognized the man from the shape of his face. He had a long jaw that, even with the dark beard, made it seem to jut out.
Jim leaned over Mark’s shoulder, and pulled up a file on the suspect. Finger poised over the print button, he looked back at Mark. “You sure about him?”
Mark hesitated. Was he sure? If he was wrong, nobody knew better than he the horrible price this guy would pay. Was he ready to consign someone to that fate based on a grainy photo and the image in his brain? If he said no, and it turned out that the guy was one of the terrorists, and people died, how could he live with that?
Jim straightened, then twisted, leaned a hip on the table and faced Mark. “It’s your call, but you have to be sure.” He crossed his arms and waited, but there was an air of urgency in the room. They couldn’t wait all day.
“Yeah, I know.” Mark closed his eyes, calling up the guy in the dream, and tried to ignore the image he’d seen already. What if what he’d seen had influenced what he saw in his head now? Could he take that chance? He looked again. It was the guy in his dream. It was a match. “It’s him.”
Jim nodded and then rattled off orders to someone behind Mark. Something about finding that man. Mark bent forward, his fingers massaging the bridge of his nose. He felt sick.
“You okay?”
Mark sat back and blew out a breath. “Yeah…just a little overwhelmed is all.”
“That’s okay. It’s a lot of responsibility.” His tone conveyed understanding and that he was no stranger to the stress involved.
“Guess I should keep looking.” Mark scrubbed his hands down his face before taking a gulp of coffee.
Jim stood and slapped him on the back as he walked past. “Good job.”
An hour later, Mark had identified three more and teams were sent off to find the men. As luck would have it, one of the suspects was already under surveillance. He and Jim went over Mark’s dream notes sentence by sentence to see if there was a scrap more they could glean from the information. Of the two men that hadn’t been identified, he was able to recall that one had waved to a little boy who had held his father’s hand as they exited the gate a minute or so before the shooting began.
“Okay, so, if you’re willing, we’ll station you with the team at that gate. If you can spot that little boy and father, it could give us an extra minute to find the guys in the crowd.”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll be there.”
Jim set his pen down on the pad of paper. “Mark, I want to make certain you fully comprehend what you’re getting into. This has the potential to be extremely dangerous. You weren’t in the photos originally, so there’s no to reason think you would have been killed in this. If you go tonight, you could change that. Do you understand?”
Mark nodded, amazed at Jim’s understanding of how the future could change based on actions they would take prior to the incident. “I’m well aware of the possible outcome.”
“Nobody will think less of you if you opt to remain at a distance.” His gaze was sincere and that alone steeled Mark’s resolve. He’d see this through to the end.
“I’m a bit out of practice, but it won’t be the first time I’ve been in bad situations. I know what the deal is.” His leg bounced and he stood to cover the reaction. “Besides, I can’t shake the feeling that I need to be there.”
Jim gathered the notes and rose. “Okay then. We’ll see if we can dig up a vest for you.”
Time simultaneously flew by and dragged. His part done for now, Mark paced the hallway, tried on a Kevlar vest, and finally, sat in a chair in Jim’s office while the other man was off doing whatever it was that still needed to be done.
He noted the lack of personal touches in the office. There were no pictures on the desk, no homemade
