THE VINCENT FILES, REVISITED

EXCERPT FROM THE DIARY OF HOWARD J. VINCENT, FOUND BENEATH THE ABANDONED OFFICE BUILDING ON 9TH AND 18TH STREET DURING DEMOLITION, ALONGSIDE A ROTTING BRIEFCASE OF SEVERAL THOUSAND EUROS AND A SINGULAR HUMAN HAND.

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Pages 25-27

The One Hundredth and Twelfth Day of the Year of the Rat

Dear Howard,

You must believe me. Above all else, you must read this entry in future years, and you must believe me.

You will remember more as you read. Don’t be concerned by that, I have planned it that way. 

They will ask you questions, again, when they hear you found your old notebook. You will not be able to hide anything from them. Do not worry. Tell them what I tell you, and you will be safe. Know that I tell you the full story, in whole. 

It began behind the fast food restaurant you worked at, back then. You were there alone, on break. Remember this; you were there alone, out back, there was no one with you. When the grey truck crept around the building, you were standing by the dumpster, smoking. When they saw smoke, it was your cigarette. Remember that. 

The truck parked in front of you, and a man stepped out. You should be remembering, now, but I will describe him regardless. He was clean shaven, wore neutral colors, black hair cut close, military style. He had no tattoos. Remember this; he had no bodily markings, no tattoos. 

He asked for your name, no more. Howard, it is your politeness that has got us into this mess, that I, years later, am still trying to redeem. You, like a fool, gave it to him. Your name; no more, no less. 

He called out to the others in the car. You did not understand the words. They spoke in your language, but you did not understand. You must not think too hard on this. They responded to him, and you still did not understand. It is not important.

You asked the man for his name, in return. He told you to call him Seven. You notice that his hands are gloved. You tap your finger against the cigarette to let the ash fall to the ground. 

It is a Tuesday. This is not important. You asked the man what he had come for. 

He looked at you. His blond hair fell in front of his eyes, and he said that it didn’t matter what he came for, only what he leaves with. He was right, this you know. 

You replied, agreeable, that in the end we all leave and come the same. He nodded, and suddenly you knew this was not true. You looked at him, and you knew this was not true. You asked again for his name. He said again, call me Seven. 

When they ask what he did next, say only that he smiled. You may not remember this, in fact, this may be the only thing you don’t remember, but you must trust me, Howard. He rubbed the bristles on his face with a bare hand, and smiled, nothing more. 

The man was smoking; you were not. He returned to his truck without another word. You wondered how many days were left until the weekend, and you watched the blue truck pull around the building again. The license plate was in your language, but you did not understand it. You realized, in that moment, that the space between this building and one the next to it was barely enough for two men to walk abreast. The truck was gone. There was no ash on the ground around you. It was noon, time for your next shift. You went back inside. 

That is all I have to tell you. I have disclosed everything. I am sorry it could not be revealed sooner, but any earlier would have been dangerous, for the both of us. 

You will be wondering how you forgot all this. That I cannot share with you. This one secret, you must forgive me. I have told you all else. 

When the time is right, you will find more letters from me. Collect them, keep them safe. When you need them, they will make sense. 

What I tell you here is complete. For both our sakes, I hope you believe me. 

Sincerely,

Howard

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RECENT ANALYSTS HAVE REVIEWED THE PREVIOUS PAGES AND SUSPECT HIDDEN CODING. THE MEANING IS YET UNCLEAR, BUT THE MESSAGE MAY LINK THE CASE OF HOWARD J. VINCENT TO THAT OF THE LATE ELLIS V. EMMETT. FURTHER EVIDENCE ATTACHED.

FOLLOWING IS A COPY OF A NOTE FOUND WITHIN A BOOK ENTITLED “A BRIEF HISTORY OF LOCKPICKING” FROM THE LIBRARY OF THE LATE ELLIS V. EMMETT. THE HANDWRITING REMAINS UNIDENTIFIED, THOUGH IT IS SUSPECTED TO BE THAT OF THE LATE ELLIS V. EMMETT, OR A COLLEAGUE. 

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The main most troublesome difficulty with this room is the lamp behind my writing desk. Despite my best efforts, it simply refuses to cooperate, and insists on tilting it’s quirksome little head to the left and dousing my scattered papers in shadows. I try to adjust the knob on behind his shade, and gather move my papers into his scant light. I fear he, like the rest of us, has some screws missing loose. My efforts have done little; even as while I write this, he again gives a small shake and slides into some unforeseen position, changing the angles of light he provides. At this rate, my report essay on the immanence of biological warfare will never be completed. I decide I must need to reach some compromise agreement with the little fellow, for this assignment is due at seven eight’o’clock, and I am only halfway through it. 

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RECENT ANALYSTS HAVE REVIEWED THE NOTE AND FOUND IT TO BE STYLISTICALLY REMINISCENT OF SEVERAL PAGES FOUND WITHIN THE DIARY OF HOWARD J. VINCENT, EMPLOYING A SIMILAR METHOD OF HIDDEN CODING, WITH THE SEEMING MISTAKES CREATING A MESSAGE. HOWEVER, THE HANDWRITING OF THOSE SELECTED DIARY PAGES MATCH NEITHER THE HANDWRITING OF HOWARD J. VINCENT NOR THAT OF THE LATE ELLIS V. EMMETT. THE MEANING OF THE MESSAGE REMAINS UNCLEAR.