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Authors: Thomas Ligotti,Brandon Trenz

Crampton (3 page)

BOOK: Crampton
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BRADY

We're investigating a case that touches upon your area of expertise.

BIG SNITCH

Oh yeah? Whoever got dipped deserved it. Fool and his money and all that.

BRADY

Not a con--a murder.

BIG SNITCH

Hey ... this is that thing that happened at FBI headquarters this morning, isn't it?

HELEN

How did you hear about that? There hasn't been an official press release yet.

The little snitch is about to reply, hut the big snitch puts his hand up to stop him.

BIG SNITCH

Hey! Dummy up!

(to HELEN)

Well, lady, When you belong to the social circle that we do, you find that information can be a valuable asset. Setting that information in advance of your competition is the name of the game. Even a matter of a few hours can make the difference between first place and second place. And in this business, there is no prize for second place.

Brady takes a second to process this line of bullshit.

BRADY

You got it off the Internet.

BIG SNITCH

The point is that we already got the skinny on this. Some kind of terrorist thing. Not exactly our area of expertise.

BRADY

This particular shooter, terrorist, whatever ... he pulled a fancy disappearing act on us.

The snitches are suddenly very interested.

BIG SNITCH

Ahhh. Now this little visit is beginning to make sense. So, how did he do it? Was there an obvious escape route? You know, trapdoor, ceiling tile, what have you? Did he use flash powder? Smoke bomb?

Helen gives Brady a "what the fuck?" look.

BRADY

(to HELEN)

Before they turned to the dark side, our friends here were pretty decent magicians.

(to SNITCHES)

You ought to think about going back to your legitimate profession.

BIG SNITCH

Are you kidding? So back to playing cups-and-balls for a bunch of gape-mouthed tourists? Fuck that. There's no pride in that gig--and more importantly, no
money
.

BRADY

What about David Copperfield? That guy's loaded.

BIG SNITCH

(getting pissed)

You always bring up David Copperfield, like you've got some kind of a hard-on for the guy. He's a hack! We were ten times the magicians that guy is! Here ...

The snitches grab a salt shaker, a pepper shaker, and a bottle of ketchup and arrange them on the table.

BIG SNITCH

... want to know how he made the Statue of Liberty disappear? Say you're the salt, the camera is the pepper, and the ketchup is the Statue of Liberty--

HELEN

Can we get back to the shooter?

The snitches reluctantly replace the condiments.

BIG SNITCH

Right. So, what was his gimmick?

BRADY

No idea. One second he's there, the next he's all over the place, just a bunch of parts.

BIG SNITCH

All over the place--what does that mean?

Brady and Helen look at each other, silently deciding how much they want to tell these con men. They come to a conclusion.

HELEN

He made it appear that he turned into a mannequin in the middle of a room full of armed FBI agents.

The snitches exchange ominous looks. The little snitch cups his hands over his ears like he doesn't want to hear any more.

BIG SNITCH

Sorry. Can't help you.

BRADY

No help, no money.

BIG SNITCH

No amount of money is worth it, my friend.

The two snitches slide out of the booth and stand.

BRADY

Whoa, whoa, whoa! What the hell is this? I can't believe you're playing us.

BIG SNITCH

(leaning close to BRADY)

You have
no idea
what it means to be played. Now, if you'll excuse us, we're late for a poker game.

They turn to leave.

BRADY

Oh, come on! You can't leave me with nothing!

The snitches pause. The big snitch turns around.

BIG SNITCH

This agent who got killed--you say he was shot?

HELEN

That's right.

BIG SNITCH

Check again.

They join the dark-haired man and the blond woman at the bar, then go through the door to the back room.

CUT TO:

INT. FBI HEADQUARTERS

Brady and Helen walking down a hallway, in a hurry.

HELEN

We're going to be late.

BRADY

I know.

Ahead, the door to the briefing room opens and a bunch of FBI agents start filing out. Whatever meeting Brady and Helen were going to, they missed it.

BRADY

Shit!

The exiting agents are all talking in low tones, a general air of incredulity over them. Brady grabs one by the arm.

BRADY

What's the deal?

FBI AGENT

It's the goddamnest thing I've ever heard.

He breaks away, leaving Brady behind.

HELEN

Well, that helps.

INT. FBI HEADQUARTERS - BRIEFING ROOM

Besides the few straggling agents who are slow to leave, the SECTION CHIEF is the only one in the room. He sees Brady and points to his watch.

BRADY

Yeah, yeah, I know.

SECTION CHIEF

Don't give me "I know." This is the wrong day to piss me off, Wells. The director wants results, and he doesn't care how he gets them. You know what that means? It means I've got carte blanche to kick your ass up and down the Potomac if I think it'll get this case wrapped up. Since you're late, I'll give you the short version. The autopsy on Johnson came up inconclusive, so we're back to square one.

BRADY

Inconclusive? The guy was shot at point blank range. Isn't that about as conclusive as they get?

SECTION CHIEF

Tell it to the medical examiner--he's expecting you ... five minutes ago.

INT. MEDICAL EXAMINER'S OFFICE

CU ON A HUMAN EYEBALL - the eyelid's held open by gloved fingers. A small but bright light shines into the eye. The pupil contracts. The light moves away. The pupil dilates.

OFFICE

Larry Johnson's body is laid out on an examining table, a sheet pulled up to its shoulders. The MEDICAL EXAMINER--an efficient, soft-spoken old pro--leans over the body, examining it with a penlight.

HELEN

Should his eye be doing that?

MEDICAL EXAMINER

No, it should not. There is no heartbeat, no activity in the brain ... flat lines all around.

Brady and Helen watch as the medical examiner does the trick with the light a few more times.

HELEN

That's really messed up.

MEDICAL EXAMINER

Yes, it is. But then, that's true about a lot of aspects of this case.

BRADY

How do you mean?

MEDICAL EXAMINER

The cause of death, for one thing.

BRADY

We were told the results were inconclusive.

MEDICAL EXAMINER

Oh, no. The results were not inconclusive. They were just somewhat...

HELEN

Messed up.

MEDICAL EXAMINER

Exactly.

He takes a clipboard and reads from the official report.

MEDICAL EXAMINER

Lawrence Johnson, Caucasian male, age forty-eight. Occupation: senior detective, Federal Bureau of Investigation, blah blah blah. Cause of death: severe myocardial infarction precipitated by liberation of aortic emboli.

(he drops the clipboard)

Heart attack.

HELEN

What?

BRADY

What about the gunshot wounds?

MEDICAL EXAMINER

See for yourself.

The medical examiner pulls the sheet down, exposing Larry Johnson's torso. Apart from a Y-shaped incision up the middle of the chest and abdomen, there isn't a mark on him.

BRADY

Well, fuck me.

MEDICAL EXAMINER

No entry wounds. No exit wounds. No bullets found inside or in proximity to the body of the deceased.

HELEN

So, a guy empties a forty-four at this man, and he dies of a plain old heart attack.

MEDICAL EXAMINER

No, not plain old. This guy had the Mt. St. Helens of heart attacks. See, most heart attacks are caused by a clot cutting off the supply of blood to the heart. Just one clot can put you in a wheelchair for the rest of your life. Two clots will put you in the ground. Agent Johnson here suffered no less than six simultaneous blood clots. It was like a total system malfunction. He was dead before he hit the floor.

BRADY

Six clots ... six shots.

HELEN

Then what's the deal with his eyes?

The M.E. leans over Johnson's body again.

JOHNSON'S POV - looking up through a FISH EYE LENS we see the medical examiner leaning over, shining the penlight INTO THE CAMERA, then out.

MEDICAL EXAMINER

There are numerous examples of postmortem muscle activity, but it's typically manifested in the arms and legs, not in the eyes. In my experience, I've never seen anything like it.

The medical examiner pulls the sheet up over Johnson's face, COVERING THE CAMERA.

BRADY (O.S.)

(whispering to HELEN)

I have.

INT. FBI HEADQUARTERS - SMALL CONFERENCE ROOM

Helen is sitting as Brady sets up a VCR and video monitor. An evidence box is on the table.

BRADY

This was, like, five years ago, before I joined the Bureau. Larry Johnson and his partner were following this scam. Psychic hotline. Television spots ran for it on local channels in the Midwest.

(the television comes on)

There we go.

Brady takes a video cassette out of the evidence box.

BRADY

Here's one of them.

He jams the tape in the VCR. The screen goes from black to snow to--

COMMERCIAL - Gaudy red letters: "The Mystery Line," along with an 800 number. The words dissolve into the image of an ECSTATIC WOMAN waving a slip of paper.

MAN'S VOICE (V.O.)

What lottery numbers will make you rich?

... the picture changes to a LONELY MAN staring longingly at a PRETTY WOMAN across a crowded room ...

MAN'S VOICE (V.O.)

How can you make that special someone notice you?

... changes to a YOUNG WOMAN sitting thoughtfully, chin cupped in one hand ...

MAN'S VOICE (V.O.)

What is your purpose in life?

... changes to an OLD WOMAN IN BLACK standing forlornly next to a fresh grave ...

MAN'S VOICE (V.O.)

When will you die?

... and finally dissolves into a blandly handsome BLOND MAN sitting at desk. A heavy black rotary-style phone is the only thing on the desk.

HELEN

Looks a bit like our killer mannequin.

BRADY

Maybe a little.

BLOND MAN (ON COMMERCIAL)

The Mystery Line has the answers to all your questions.

The man holds up the receiver and looks piercingly into the camera.

BLOND MAN

Call now,
if you really want to know
.

OFFICE

Brady PAUSES the commercial. The blond man is frozen in place, receiver extended.

HELEN

A clear-cut violation of FCC codes. You can't tell people when they're going to die or promise them winning lottery tickets.

Brady EJECTS the tape and gets another one out of the evidence box, sliding it into the VCR.

BRADY

The FCC stuff had nothing to do with it.

Thirty-three people were found dead--phone in their hand, still connected to the Mystery Line.

On the VIDEO, a hand-held camera documents the interior of an apartment. Several FBI agents stand over the body of a middle-aged woman, her dead eyes open and staring. A telephone receiver is locked in her fist. In the background we can hear television STATIC.

BRADY

(pointing to the screen)

Here--check this out.

On the VIDEO, an agent takes a penlight and inspects the dead woman's eyes. The pupils contract as the light hits them.

HELEN

They were all like that?

BRADY

Every one of them.

HELEN

What killed them?

BRADY

Heart attack. Aneurysm. Stroke. Natural causes, every one of them.

On the VIDEO, RICKY SMITH is giving orders. He turns to the camera--

RICKY SMITH (ON VIDEO)

Get that thing out of my face!

Brady again PAUSES the tape, freezing Ricky.

HELEN

Who's that guy?

BRADY

That's Ricky Smith. He was Larry Johnson's partner at the time. I guess he had a reputation as kind of a son of a bitch. But from what I've see in these reports, he was a hell Of an agent. Meticulous. Some might say obsessive.

HELEN

You ever meet him?

BRADY

Once, about the time the whole Mystery Line thing blew up. Smith and Johnson first tried following the money, but none of the victims were ever actually charged for the phone calls, so that was a dead end. They eventually traced the phone number to this old warehouse in Detroit. I was Detroit PD at the time, but I'd been trying to get into the FBI for a while. Whenever something federal would come around, I'd volunteer for it.

HELEN

We had a name for guys like you down in Florida. Wanna-be.

BRADY

Yeah, but
I
got to be. Anyway, we bust into the place in full riot gear, and it's just, like, old boxes and shit. Nobody home. I guess the strain of the investigation got to Ricky, because he had some kind of a nervous breakdown right in the middle of the raid. Had to carry him out of there in a stretcher--the kind with four-point restraints.

Helen and Brady just look at the paused face of Ricky Smith, frozen into a scowl.

HELEN

So Where's Ricky now?

BRADY

I don't know. After the Mystery Line deal, he and Larry had a falling out. Larry switched to a desk job, analysis or something.

He actually helped get me in the FBI. Ricky ... eventually he just quit and kind of disappeared. Probably flycasting somewhere in New Mexico right now.

HELEN

Well, since he's the only other guy who's had any real experience with this thing, don't you think it'd be nice to know where he disappeared to?

BOOK: Crampton
2.7Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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