Authors: Ben Hopkin
Tags: #General Fiction
Mala thought about that for a moment. “You know, I’m still not clear on exactly what occurred. Could you walk me through it?”
She glanced down at Janey, who was still grinning and nodding her head. Whatever it was that Mrs. Kingston was about to tell her was precisely what Janey wanted her to hear.
“Certainly,” she answered. “Janey and a group of children interrupted the entire class right in the middle of arts and crafts group today.”
“Interrupted?” prompted Mala.
“Yes. They left the group and made a circle around their desks. Then they just pointed at some of their classmates. It was weird. One of the boys started crying.”
“One of the boys in the circle?”
“No, one of the ones they were pointing at. I think it was…” the teacher stopped and took a breath. “Well, it seemed like the group was trying to intimidate them.”
Mala turned back to Janey. “Is this true?”
Janey’s smile was still stretched wide, and she nodded again.
“You see?” Killarney chimed in. “She doesn’t even try to deny it. It’s like she’s happy about it all.”
Janey went over to the light switch by the door and turned it off. The classroom was plunged into immediate darkness. But over the protestations of every other adult there, Mala realized the darkness wasn’t complete.
There was something glowing.
“Look,” she said, pointing at the floor. There, traced in the glow paint that Janey had asked for, was the outline of a very large detective’s badge.
“What is
that
?” Mrs. Kingston asked.
“You mean this was done without your knowledge?” Killarney inserted, his tone surprised. He moved over to the switch and turned the lights back on. Janey moved over to stand next to Mala as the principal continued. “How is that even possible?”
“I… I’m not sure,” the teacher responded, apparently flustered. “It could have been done while I went to the restroom, or…”
“I think it’s more to the point to figure out why this vandalism happened.”
Vandalism. Mala’s heart sank. They had no context within which to place this symbol, and Janey couldn’t speak for herself. The conclusion that the teacher, principal and more than likely the social worker were all leaping to was wrong. Flat out wrong.
But that was where Mala came in. Part of her job as parent was speaking out for her child when her child couldn’t or wouldn’t communicate.
Like right now.
“This is a detective’s badge,” Mala explained. “It’s the only thing that makes Janey feel safe and protected.”
From the look on Mrs. Kingston’s face, she at least had a basic understanding of what that might mean for a traumatized girl. Killarney seemed unconvinced, but appeared to be listening. Templeton, in contrast, was folding his arms over his chest, shutting himself off from the explanation that was being proffered. He didn’t seem to have any interest in being persuaded.
Was all of his antagonism really based solely off of his dislike of Mala? And all over a few missed minutes in a class she took from him months ago?
“It doesn’t really matter what the badge means,” he said. “This kind of blatant disregard for public property—”
Mrs. Kingston held up a hand. “Please. I want to hear the rest.”
Mala nodded her appreciation. “Do you mind if I take a closer look?”
The teacher nodded, and Mala moved in closer to where the badge had been outlined. It seemed to encompass a grouping of desks.
“Who all sits here?”
Mrs. Kingston looked at where Mala was pointing. “That’s the group of kids who’ve been giving me the most problems.”
“Right from the start of the school year?” Mala pressed.
“Well, no,” she admitted. “If you had asked me in the first week, I would’ve said that those were some of the best behaved children in my class.”
“When did that change?”
The teacher flicked a look at Janey. “Right around the time they started hanging around with...” She trailed off, apparently not willing to say anything more in front of the one who seemed to be the cause of all this.
Mala thought hard. It was clear that Janey had been the ringleader here. There was no denying that part of the story. She took a closer look at one of the desks, where something seemed to be tied to a bar along the back. Was that…?
“Mr. Killarney,” she called out to the principal. “Is this the lock of hair that Janey cut off from that boy earlier?”
He glanced at the item and shrugged. “It might be.”
Attached to the back of each of the desks was… something. There was a hat strapped to one. What looked like an action figure to another.
They looked like talismans. Or warnings. Like skulls staked into the ground to warn away intruders. Or a piece of the person, or an object that was close to them, that would be incorporated into a voodoo doll.
Something to protect them.
Mala turned around as the door to the classroom opened up once more. Two forms were framed there in the doorframe, a young girl about Janey’s age and what looked to be her mother.
“Oh, I’m sorry to interrupt,” the older woman said, gazing around the room and seeming to feel the tension that was there. “I just wanted to let Mrs. Kingston know that I’m taking my daughter in to the dentist. Office told me I’d find you here.”
“That’s fine, Mrs. Johnson,” the teacher responded. “Thanks for letting me know.”
Mrs. Johnson was about to turn around to leave when she caught sight of Janey and then looked up to find Mala by her side. The woman broke out in a big smile and moved in for a handshake.
“Are you Janey’s Mom?” she asked. “I just have to thank you both so much for the way that she’s taken care of that problem for my girl.”
Confused, Mala asked, “What problem is that?”
“You know,” she said, lowering her voice to a whisper. “The whole bullying thing. There was a group of kids who were making Talia’s life miserable.”
“Oh?” Mala responded, the light dawning on her.
“You didn’t know about it? Talia didn’t even want to go to school, it was so bad. But she said Janey helped her.” She bent down and spoke to Janey. “You are such a good friend to my daughter. We’d love to have you over to our house any time.”
After giving Janey’s arm a rub and nodding to Mala, the woman got up and took her daughter out. A silence fell over the room as the door shut behind her.
Mala allowed the lack of sound to extend beyond the point that it was comfortable. It was important to make sure that the impact of what had just happened was indelibly imprinted on every mind here.
“This doesn’t change anything, Mrs. Charan,” Templeton finally spoke out into the pregnant pause.
“On the contrary,” challenged Mrs. Kingston. “I think it changes everything.” She knelt down next to Janey. “Have you been protecting your friends?”
Janey nodded her head, the smile never having left her face. She moved in closer to Mala’s leg. It didn’t seem like she was doing it to seek protection, but rather to include Mala in the moment.
“That brand of vigilante justice is not—” Templeton began, directing his comment to the principal.
“I think you need to be quiet right now,” Killarney responded, cutting him off. “The concerns you brought to my attention have all been resolved in my mind.”
“But… the crime scenes. And the classroom…”
“Mr. Templeton,” the principal said, holding up his hand. “Mrs. Kingston and I are the ones who should’ve known there were bullies operating here in our school. We didn’t, but she did.”
“But—”
“
And
she managed to figure out how to deal with it all on her own. As for the other stuff you brought to my attention, I only care for the wellbeing of my students. She seems just fine to me.” He bent down to address Janey. “But from here on out, young lady, you come to us with your problems, okay?”
Janey seemed to ponder that for a moment, then nodded her head. To Mala’s eye, it seemed to be a reluctant acceptance, at best.
The social worker had gone through several shades of color, none of which seemed all that healthy. Now he had clamped his mouth shut and was tapping the floor furiously with one foot.
“Mr. Templeton,” Mala addressed him. “My little girl is alive and flourishing because I was willing to go with her to places that seemed extreme. The choice is between catatonia and some small level of exposure. I hope you can see which is preferable.”
She turned to leave, but then thought better of it.
“Oh, and one more thing?” she said, looking at both the principal and Templeton. “It’s
Dr
. Charan.”
* * *
“Okay,” Trey said, mulling the problem over once more in his mind. “So, whether or not Speer is dirty… and he
is
,” he clarified, before Darc could get any other ideas. “He wouldn’t have a reason to scuttle the Waterfront Project.”
Darc sat mutely in the passenger seat of Trey’s Land Rover. That was always fun. They were on their way to talk to the Satanist Edward Hoffman again. Now that it was clear that his motive was much more direct than they had thought, he’d once more shot to the top of the suspect list.
Parking was always a problem this close to the waterfront. So the project thing might be totally corrupt, but Trey was definitely on board with the idea of reconstruction. This whole area could use a facelift.
You know, if it wasn’t all done through strong-arming and blackmail and murder. Which is exactly what it was looking like at this point.
Finally Trey was able to find a spot, right in between a huge Ford F-250 and some kind of an SUV. It was a tight squeeze, but he managed to make it in. Getting out of the vehicle was a bit of a problem, but by the time Trey had managed to force his way out, Darc was already moving off down the pier. How the hell did he do that?
So, once more Trey was playing catch up, both figuratively and literally. He jogged up to his partner, who was already in front of the door of Edward’s shop.
It was locked up.
They were there within the hours of operation listed, but for some reason the proprietor had decided to leave his shop. A note was posted up beside the door, saying that the shop would open back up later that evening, but it gave no explanation as to why he was gone. A busy time, a day before Halloween, and an avowed Satanist leaves his curio store without anyone to man it?
That just didn’t compute.
Darc seemed to be thinking the same thing. He was doing that brooding thing he always did when he was surprised by something. There was no way of knowing how long he was going to stay in that state, either.
So Trey sat back, ready to wait it out.
He glanced around the pier, looking for something to eat. Not because he was all that hungry, but just because it was a habit of his to always know where he could get his next meal. And considering the fact that Darc was vegetating over there, it might get to the point that Trey needed to grab a bite.
There was the usual carnival-type fare, which always sounded good. One place had something they called a donut burger, which sounded just sick enough to be interesting. Maybe if they slapped some bacon on it?
Trey was seconds away from going to get one, hungry or not, when his phone rang. It was Mala.
“Just wanted you to know that the whole thing with Janey’s school… and I think even our social worker… is taken care of,” she said.
“Great! I’ll tell Darc,” Trey answered. “Well, once he gets out of his fugue state, that is.”
“Why do you think I called
you
this time?” she chuckled. “Last time I called him, I said
Freemason
and that was the end of the conversation.”
“That was where he got that link? How did you figure it out?”
“Well, there was Cody, of course, but then my social worker is also—”
“Wait a minute,” Trey interrupted. “Your
social worker
is a Freemason?”
“Well, yeah—”
“Gotta go,” Trey said, hanging up the phone. Mala would forgive him for this one. It might be nothing, but the fact that there was another connection with the Freemasons seemed like more than a coincidence.
Darc turned as he seemed to hear Trey move up behind him. He was no longer in that trance of his, but it didn’t seem like whatever he had discovered while in it was all that helpful.
“Darc, there’s something you need to know about,” Trey blurted. “Mala’s social worker… you know, the one that’s been all up in her grill? He’s a Mason.”
There wasn’t even a second’s pause. Darc was off and running toward the Land Rover. As much as Trey didn’t love following along behind his partner, this was more like it. Darc running meant that he had figured something out.
And some serious ass kicking was usually about to follow.
* * *
No amount of preparation could ever completely foresee every detail in a plan this large. The Intermediary knew this, and yet decided to go over it one more time.
This was the moment that would determine the future of Seattle for the next one hundred years. Bring the heroes of the city together. Give them a common cause, and then sit back and watch as they reshaped the world in their image.
Looking in the mirror, the Intermediary thought once more how unexpected it was that this vessel, the one reflected back in reverse on the glassy surface, would be the one to effect this change. It mattered nothing that no one would ever know of the Intermediary’s involvement. In fact, it was better this way.
Pride was a mirage, leading one to the place where water was promised, but leaving one stranded in the parched desert. There had been times when that path had tempted the Intermediary with its siren song. Times when it had seemed that no one else could ever be entrusted with a responsibility this large.
The idea for this had come, strangely enough, from watching a terrorist attack in the West Bank. There had been an explosion, and people had come to help the victims. Then another bomb had detonated, killing the helpers.
It was not an uncommon tactic. The Intermediary had seen it before.
But for whatever reason, in this moment it had clicked. The plan had been laid out, almost in its entirety, in that very instant.
Create a trap. But not one to punish or kill those who came forward. One to identify them.