The Wheel spins.
I AM EVIDENCE.
This is what I saw while I was being held down in the dirt with the ball in my mouth. Branko cannot kill me anywhere that he cannot safely dispose of my body. Nor can he march me down the boardwalk, or even out to the street and into a car. He can do none of that unless I am willing, unless he knows I will not start yelling for the police.
I am evidence.
My body and its fingerprints and its new face. The fingerprints will lead to Henry Thompson. The face will lead to the photo in the paper. The photo will lead to Miguel. And sooner or later, after the questions start, Miguel will lead to David.
He has to be careful.
But I don’t.
OUR CAR CIRCLES to the ground. The operator opens the door and we climb out. Branko leads me past a cluster of kiddy rides and back to the boardwalk. We turn left and start the long walk to Brighton Beach.
We walk past the fried clam shacks and the beer booths and the Cyclone and the Aquarium. And then I turn left, heading for the walkway that will take me to the Aquarium subway station. Branko catches up with me and walks by my side.
– This is not the way.
– This is the way I’m going.
– David is waiting.
– You should go then. You can tell him I’m not coming.
– I cannot let you go.
– What are you going to do, Branko? You can’t drag me screaming. You can’t kill me here. Go back to David. Tell him I said no.
– I cannot leave you.
– OK.
We get to the station. There are two cops standing next to the token booth. I walk up to them.
– Excuse me, officers?
– Yeah?
I point at Branko.
– This guy wants to know which train to take to get to Queens.
One cop looks at me.
– Sorry, I’m from Staten Island.
The other cop points at the map on the wall.
– Let’s take a look.
He walks to the map, taking Branko over with him. I wave.
– Good luck.
Branko smiles.
– And to you.
He keeps the smile on his face and follows the cop to the map. I buy a MetroCard from the booth, walk upstairs and get on a Manhattan-bound F train. Cops just when I needed them, twice in one day. Go figure. Maybe things are turning my way at last. But probably not.
I HAVE TO talk to Mom and Dad. I have to tell them I didn’t kill David. And that means Adam and Martin will be coming, coming to interrogate them.
I never wanted to talk to them again, never wanted to see them. There are no explanations for the things I have done. No way you can tell your mother and father that you have murdered people to keep them alive.
So while I sit on the train, I try to figure out how I’m going to tell them all of that. But, oh yeah, first I have to figure out how I’m going to find their damn phone number.
– What city please?
– Port Orford, Oregon. A residential listing for Thompson?
I get two Thompsons. The first is picked up by an answering machine. The voice is not my mother or my father. The second is answered by a small child who tells me that her daddy is not home and her mommy is in the bathroom. Each time, as the phone is ringing, a pit with no bottom opens in my stomach and I fall into it. I am so relieved. Then I dial information again and try it with my mother’s maiden name and my father’s middle name and every variation I can think of. None of them work. But I’m not done. I remember what Adam told me about how they found out where my folks live in the first place. I get off my bench, walk out of Washington Square Park, and go looking for an Internet cafe.
MagickBulletMan: No way! I’ve been to the El Cortez in Las Vegas. I tried to stay in the room Thompson and Sandy Candy were in and they told me it was closed off.
MrTruth: That’s because you didn’t bribe the security guard like I did. You think they’re going to let you in there if you ask nice? Don’t be an asshole, MBM. You want something you got to go get it. Just like Henry.
MagickBulletMan: A) Don’t curse at me! B) You don’t know anything about Henry. C) YOU’RE LYING!!!
MrTruth: FUCK YOU, MAGICKBOWELMOVEMENT!
Robert Cramer: No shouting in here guys.
MagickBulletMan: Sorry, Robert. I’m just sick of MrTruth acting like he’s the only one that knows anything about Henry and pretending like he’s been everywhere Henry was when we all know he’s lying.
MrTruth: MBM wouldn’t know the truth if it fucked him in the ass. Henry Thompson was captured at the El Cortez by a Special Forces Black Ops Squad. They then manufactured evidence to make it appear that he had escaped. They want to maintain a fiction that he is at large so they can use him as a cover story for state killings in the future. In the meantime, Henry was reprogrammed and sent to the Middle East to hunt for terrorists and insurgents.
MagickBulletMan: OMG! That’s what I’m talking about. Every time he comes here he has a new story. Last time he said Henry was working a fishing boat in Alaska.
MrTruth: My story changes because I am constantly gathering evidence and trying to get to the heart of the greatest criminal mystery this country has ever known and unlike some assholes I care about Henry and what happened to him so I work to find out what really happened instead of just parroting the crap that the police and the FBI would have us think. FUCK FACE!
Robert Cramer: I said no shouting, MrTruth.
MrTruth: FUCK YOU ASS CRAMMER! Just because you wrote a couple books about Henry you think you own him. That’s bullshit! Henry’s story is an American narrative that belongs to all of us. It’s part of our heritage and you can’t shut up the truth!
USER MRTRUTH HAS BEEN BOUNCED FROM THE SITE
MagickBulletMan: Thanks, Robert. That guy drives me crazy.
Robert Cramer: Well it is an open forum, MBM, so you need to be patient with all points of view.
SF Giants Fan: You think there’s anything to what he says?
MagickBulletMan: No way, SF. All that conspiracy stuff is crap. SF Giants Fan: What about the Alaska stuff?
Robert Cramer: The truth is, Henry Thompson is most likely dead. In The Man Who Came Back I wrote about the many enemies he had made. More than likely one of these killed him during the Las Vegas rampage and his body was disposed of.
MagickBulletMan: Who do you think killed him, Robert?
