Juncture 5.6

Frederick leaned forward, cupping his mug of coffee tightly in both hands. Steam rolled up from the coffee inside, twirling and spiraling up until it slowly dissipated.

“So before we get any further, you understand that everything I’m saying is true, right?” He asked. Apparently the police hadn’t believed him when he told them about futuristic weapons. That made sense.

“Absolutely, I will,” I answered. It was the go to response; interested, but not too eager. “I understand if it’s something weird. I’ve seen a lot of strange things during my life - I’ll understand.”

He nodded, sending wisps of steam curling around his face. “It was last week, Thursday night. I had finished – it was a good day. I had managed to sell this one naggling bracelet that had been taking up inventory space. It was a beautiful piece, though; just a bit too expensive.”

“So, I had sold the bracelet, and the shop was empty. I was locking up the display shelves, and as I finished the last one the bell above the door chimed. It was right about closing, so I was going to tell them that. But when I looked up I saw the barrel of something like a gun aimed at me.”

“I dropped, thanks to my military training. There was an explosion above me and all of the glass in the building shattered. A chunk of something caught me in the back of the head, I’m still not sure what it was. I was awake, but everything was a blur. The people were talking, one guy and one girl. They took everything that was in the display cases.”

“They said something. Most of the words were gibberish, of course, but I could make out some things.”

He paused to take a sip, and I interjected with, “Such as what?”

“I heard what I think were names, or monikers. One of them called the other “Jack”. The other said something about a “King”. They left soon after.”

“I’m so sorry that you had to go through that,” I said. While he had been talking, I had been scanning the area around us. I had brought us to a public area on purpose. If the thieves had thought that Frederick had been dead when they left, they could have begun searching for him after newspapers started interviewing him.

It was cruel, I know, but using him as bait was the easiest way for me to draw them out of hiding. So far nobody had done anything to garner my suspicions, but at the mention of King I saw a woman wearing sunglasses sitting at a nearby table suddenly sit still.

It was something that happened to people inexperienced at hiding secrets. They tried so hard to mask any surprise that they swung all the way over to the other side, stopping all movement.

I took a sip casually and stood up. “Excuse me for a second, Frederick. Something’s come up. I’ll be right back.”

I walked in the opposite direction of the woman, and when she went out of view behind the café, I ran around the back of the building. I came back around, and she hadn’t moved. Perfect. I stalked up behind her. When I got close enough I pulled out the pen I carried with me. Slowly, I leaned down and pressed it into her spine.

“Don’t move,” I whispered as menacingly as I could. Her spine straightened and I dug in with the pen. “I said don’t move!”

I sat down next to her, keeping my hand firmly behind her back. She didn’t turn to face me. It seemed like she was holding her breath.

“Now you’re gonna tell me what I want to know, okay?” I said, “Nod if you understand.” She nodded.

“Good. Who are you?”

She didn’t answer.

“I said, who are you?” I gritted my teeth and spat the words. She whispered something, and I leaned in to hear her better.

“-Five. Four. Three-“ I realized too late. I shot up and opened my mouth to tell Frederick to duck, to run, to do anything. He lifted his cup for a drink.

Bang.

Frederick got a surprised look on his face. He stopped mid-sip and looked down. Blood began to stain a hole in his yellow plaid shirt. He put the mug down, slowly lifted his hand up to the spot.

Then he collapsed sideways, the chair clattering next to him. Movement entered the café area and surrounding street. People began shouting and running in all different directions. The woman got up, and I grabbed the back of her jacket, digging the pen in.

“No, you’re not going anywhere. You’re coming with me.” She nodded. I began steering her away from the café as fast as I could, not wasting time to glance backward at Frederick. From what I could tell he was a good man. He didn’t deserve to die.

“You’re some sort of sick monster, do you know that?” I said. She scoffed, and answered. Her voice had a thick quality to it, like she had a throat full of molasses.

“As if you’re any better, leading a lady away at gunpoint.” I knew her for maybe thirty seconds and she was already getting on my nerves.

I led her down the streets to a nearby warehouse. The OST had rented safe spaces in almost every time period in almost every civilized area, places to go if an agent was in trouble.

I unlocked the door and flicked the lights on in the room. There were cans and cans of food, along with an odd machine that I learned could communicate with the OST headquarters.

Most importantly, there was a set of handcuffs and a chair, with the legs connected to the floor via concrete. I forcefully sat her down in it, and handcuffed her to the chair. I took a can of food and emptied it into a round bowl, then placed that on the floor in front of her.

“I’ll be back. You’re going to tell me why the hell you stole that man’s jewelry, then killed him. You’re going to tell me how you did it.”

“And you’re going to tell me who sent you.”