Rumor Has It

“It surprised me that you left your phone number. Are you ok?”

Gloria was a lady I met at a bar. We had been mugged on the beach after we met. I stopped the criminal with choreographed precision, not thinking about how my actions would affect my date.

While I was at the police station going over the night’s events a dozen times, she left for work.

“I thought about it for days. You did what you had to do. I had never seen violence before, not to mention ever being robbed at gunpoint,” she said.

The nickel-plated gun he pulled on us, no self-respecting pimp would own. Still, it was a deadly weapon, and he paid the ultimate price.

“How long are you staying in Florida?” She asked.

I thought back to how upset my boss, Hank, was. He needed me off the radar of his superiors.

“There’s a rumor that I might move to Texas.”

“Texas?”

Things were changing. Data servers around the globe were under attack. People were creating havoc with a few lines of code. Information is powerful. In the wrong hands, it can be devastating. Someone had filled Hank’s head with baffling stuff about me not being stable.

Valerie, my personal shrink, had tested my IQ. My intelligence quotient was 160. I was told that 160 is on the proverbial fence regarding one’s sanity. 160 is the demark between genius and insane. That was a pickle.

Hank sent me to a forensic class in Las Colinas. The idea was to attend as a civilian and to stay out of trouble.

“I am changing jobs before I retire.”

“Retire. Do you want to retire?”

Trumpeting my fingers on the desk, I thought about her question.

“I don’t think I will be retired in the traditional sense. I might be working from home much more than I would like.”

On my last day in Florida, I went to see Valerie.

“Have you finished cleaning out the cobwebs?” I asked.

Valerie glanced up from her notes and smiled. “Finished, no. I understand you and don’t think you are crazy or a danger to society.”

“Who intimated that I was crazy?”

She peered at me, drawing her hand across her lips. “My lips are sealed. You should stay out of the limelight and off the battlefield. Why not take retirement?”

I nodded as I thought about what I would do. That last promotion would be a nice bump in my retirement benefits.

***

The weeks flew by, and I became the oldest person in a class full of computer geeks. Everything I studied just made sense.

We know programming or coding as efficient laziness.

Programming parlance refers to taking several actions or tasks and combining them into an automated script.

Criminals were taking efficient laziness to an extreme by sitting at a keyboard and extorting millions through back doors and bugs in software.

Those that were in that class could easily have been the ones that created viruses to cause havoc.

While on leave, Hank contacted me again. I headed back to DC.

Leaves covered the walkway from my hotel to the parking lot. Landscapers worked with their noisy equipment, doing what they called ‘leaf management.’ Soon as they had them ready to be scooped into large bags, a breeze would cause them to take flight across the parking lots.

I chuckled at the futility of their actions.

“Are you enjoying your new assignment?”

I puffed on a cigar, peering at Hank. “I enjoy flying an A10, taking out the enemy.”

Hank poured us more of his Scotch. “Toast…To taking out the enemy.”

That’s something I could celebrate.

There is a satisfaction about that burn in your throat and the warmth in your belly from whisky.

His eyes were glassy in appearance as he looked at me. “You and I go back years, decades, in fact. What happened to that person who would pick up a bug and put it outside vs. stepping on it?”

The image of corralling a spider and setting it outside came to mind.

“I guess I grew up, or old, or less patient. Why ask?”

He set his glass on the desk before locking eyes with me. “Can you be happy at a desk?”

“Hank, they mired us in that forsaken country. I can help them out by taking out the enemy.”

“I didn’t think so. Dan, I love you like a brother. I think it’s time you retire and get away from the killing of the enemy.”

I leaned back in the chair, tipping the glass, sipping the last of his whisky. “You think I am off my rocker?”

He shook his head. “Rumor is that you can’t determine the gray line between killing someone and immobilizing them to escape danger.”

“Who said that? Is this about that jerk on the beach?”

Hank shook his head while giving me a knowing look.

“I’m not at liberty to say. Know that your options are to fly a desk or retire. I encourage you to retire and find something to do with your new endeavor.”

The idea of never flying combat again was not new to me. With this promotion to full colonel, by definition, I would be directing the efforts of others.

His advice was more than worrying. He questioned my ability to control myself. My actions reflected on him too.

“What about this mess at the Pentagon?”

Hank smiled. “If you promise not to kill anyone, I would like you to assist them before you retire,” he said with a wink.

Someone somewhere was spreading rumors about me and my ability to control my temper. I hadn’t lost my temper on the beach. That was a calculated kill. I realized I was a soldier first and always. Perhaps I should dial it back and allow the aggrieved to deal with their enemies.

I flew back to Florida to finish my time with Valerie.

Reading a novel while I waited for Dr. Morris kept me occupied. If I had a temper issue, waiting for her would have made me angry. It dawned on me that perhaps she was deliberately attempting to provoke a response. It was time to figure out if she was the source.

“Sorry I’m late; I was watching TV, and time slipped away.”

That was a lie, and I knew it. She watches as much TV as I do, not at all.

“Are you late? I’m consumed by this novel and didn’t consider the time of day.”

“Oh.”

During our session, I mentioned rejoining the active duty troops.

She scribbled some notes. I lied to see where that fib would lead.

Later that night, I went to the bar in the hotel. Nursing a scotch and soda was only the beginning of my investigation. The bartender was a young lady with long black hair. She was friendly enough, but I noticed she had to reference her computer all too often for mixology or the creation of drinks. Was she new to the job, or perhaps, was she a spy?

Throughout the next week, I spread a net of lies to different people I interacted with. Which rumor would I face when I went back to DC?

My phone rang. It was Gloria. She was back in town.

“I must admit, it surprised me that after all that happened, you would leave your phone number.”

Gloria glanced up from her linguini. “The night rattled me. I trusted you when I realized how safe I was around you.”

I held up my wineglass, tapping it with hers. “To safety.”

The clink of the goblets set the stage for a candlelight dinner. A violin player set the mood, and the music lost me in her charm.

Trouble seemed to follow me. Was the world a more dangerous place, or was it me?

“What are you going to do?” She asked.

I rubbed my chin while peering into her brown eyes. “I can retire and learn to be a homebody, or I could follow my instincts and track down these people who extort money from companies.”

“That sounds dangerous.”

“I don’t think so. I have written a few applications that brute force certain algorithms for breaking encryption techniques put forth by digital terrorists. I figure out who they are and leave it up to the client to determine what they want to do.”

She sipped on her wine. “Are you working on anything right now?”

I couldn’t bring myself to believe she was the leak. “Someone is spreading rumors about me. I am hot on the trail of who it might be.”

“Am I one of your suspects?” She said with a chuckle.

I laughed, "I think the butler in the library might be the one who is telling tales.”

Gloria smiled. “It doesn’t sound like you are taking this seriously.”

I got the server’s attention by holding up my empty wine glass. “I need to know who I can trust and who I can’t. Valerie might be one of those I can’t trust.”

Gloria peeked at me before taking another bite of her food. “I don’t see her as anything but professional. Why do you think it might be her?”

“Few people know my business. Valerie is one of a select handful of those that do.”

We decided not to walk on the beach. Gloria wasn’t worried about her safety. The concern was for me in that someone else might try something and find themselves on a one-way ride to the morgue.

All too often, a DA is soft on crime, and the bad guy lives to kill again. Not only does he live, but he is let out of prison with a slap on the wrist.

In my book, they were the enemy of all that is good and holy. That makes them, by definition, a target.

Valerie and I always seemed to circle back to that issue until someone mugged her outside her apartment. The sheep were at war with the foxes, and the DAs were in league with the devil.

She came to the office with a black eye and multiple defensive wounds where she fought him off.

“Did they catch him?” She pinched her lips while shaking her head. “He took my files after he assaulted me.”

“Assaulted?”

She nodded while peering up at me. “He has your files, too.”

I had an instant knot in my stomach.

“What did the police say?”

“Dan, this isn’t your fight. You should go on with your life and let them deal with this.”

I gritted my teeth while looking at her swollen jaw and blackened eye.

“There’s a monster on the loose that has my files, and God only knows what else, and you want me to just leave it?”

She swiveled in her chair, flashing those things from a lingerie store meant for few to see. This time, I didn’t avert my gaze. “I may be thick, but what’s this about?”

She crossed her legs, pinched her lips, and smiled.

“It’s about me being stupid. There are rules against what I am allowing myself to think.”

I leaned back on her couch, eye level with her knees. Body language speaks volumes with nary a verb or noun expressed. I knew what she was thinking. Uncrossing her legs once again, she peered into my eyes.

“I don’t feel safe in my parking lot. Do you have plans for tonight?”

Connie, my childhood sweetheart, was the only girl I ever slept with. I found Valerie strangely attractive with her war wounds. She was damaged and yet defiant. That vulnerable side of her brought out that protector of all that is good in the world side of me.

Her apartment was as cluttered as her office, yet she was delicate as a flower. This night would end our professional relationship and possibly start us on another track.

I awoke to see a goddess wearing a gossamer white gown in the kitchen. Shafts of sunlight pierced through the thin veil of cloth, displaying the alabaster statue of my paramour.

Later that day, we heard from the police. The target was at it again in the same parking lot.

“I’m going to have to move. I can’t live like this.”

“You can’t run forever. Sometimes you got to fight back.”

“I scratched his face. They took DNA from my fingernails.”

She changed the subject. Cluttered and clumsy, Valerie could cook, and she knew how to love. Sunday afternoon, we learned of a third victim. This time, he killed her after abusing her. I invited her back to my hotel while I had work to do. She didn’t ask questions.

I stalked my prey while in the shadows. That activity brought those memories of war back. I could almost hear the bullets whizzing over my head as I waited.

A white car cruised the parking lot. There were two of them. A man left the vehicle while the other drove off.

I noted the license plate while ensuring the suspect had identifiable fingernail scratches on his face. Headlights cast a shadow while illuminating the target.

The slamming door from one apartment caught our attention as a young lady carried trash to the dumpster.

He hid behind the dumpster, waiting for her. I was behind him in a flash. Tossing a rock close to the girl, she screamed and ran back to the apartment.

Clyde was explaining his actions to Satan while residing in the dumpster. His wallet and phone became mine long enough to know who he was and his contacts.

Down the street, a gas station with a large empty lot was my next destination.

I called the last number dialed, ‘Dwain.’ I muttered the name of the station and hung up.

His phone rang several times as the car cruised the area. A small light from the telephone signaled where I was. Much like a spider waiting for the fly, I would end this.

Dwain and Clyde were brothers attempting to join a gang through an initiation ritual of being scum.

The two brothers occupied a dumpster, much like the other garbage around them. I found Valerie’s files and several purses of other victims. The file regarding me went missing, as did the ID of the targets. The dumpster was remote enough that a fire would go undetected until it was too late to put it out. Dwain and Clyde would become crispy critters, obscuring any forensic evidence.

Investigators would write this off as gang violence.

I stopped by the bar before going back to the hotel. The bartender recognized me.

“Hey, I thought you hooked up with that chick?”

“What chick?” She pointed through the smoke fill haze at Gloria with a pilot.

I shook my head. “Just friends,” I said.

Pinching my lips, I downed the Scotch, feeling the burn in my throat. The world of battle, I understood. This world of feelings was alien to me.

***

My hotel door opened to find Valerie wearing that gossamer gown.

“Hey, I made myself at home.”

I smiled, pulling her close. Kissing her swollen eye, I could feel the silky fabric against her skin. She sniffed my clothes. The scent of smoke was on me.

“Did you go to the bar?”

“I did. I had some thinking to do.”

“I would have gone with you. What did you think about?”

“You, Me, Us, the future.”

She smiled and was about to speak when sirens broke the silence. I glanced at my watch. Damn, two hours.

She turned on the news while I showered.

I was about to leave the shower when the door opened, and she walked in.

Moonlight trickled through the curtains, which danced over the air conditioner. “You still awake?”

“Yeah, why are you awake?” I asked.

“Why didn’t you invite me to the bar?”

I pinched my lips, glancing at the glow of her eyes in the darkness. “Gloria was there. I knew she would be.”

“Oh, I have made some serious mistakes, and now I am messing this up between you and her.”

I felt her body become rigid. I reached under the covers, pulling her close. “She was with an airline captain.”

She relaxed, allowing her leg to travel over mine.

“Not sorry?” She asked.

“No. Go to sleep.”

***

I went back to DC midweek. Valerie heard about the gang activity.

Police had discovered one victim had the same DNA they found under her fingernails. She was relieved but also curious if I was involved.

Hank was less than curious. He suspected I had something to do with it.

“Why are you so insistent that I had anything to do with that gang activity?”

He poured us another scotch and then asked me for my phone. I handed it to him, expecting him to ask me for the passcode.

Imagine my shock when he pulled a hammer from his desk and smashed my phone in front of me. A fire erupted, causing the smoke detector to go off.

Tossing the burning phone in his trash can, his assistant interrupted us.

“Take this outside,” he ordered.

“Why?” I asked.

“I know everything you do because of that phone. An agency tracks your movements through it, so I know everything you do. The war I told you about is real. That agency has invited you to join them.”

I smiled. “An agency? Who else knows?”

Hank smirked while handing me another phone.

“Your assistant is your liaison to the group.”

“Assistant?”

“You slept with her.”

“Valerie.”

He nodded. We toasted sleeping with assistants.

“You move to Dallas and start your new job as a forensic computer geek.”

“Not a shrink?”

Hank shook his head. “Don’t underestimate her. Welcome to the new war on terrorism.”

The rumor mill had been a spy in my pocket.