Deadly News: A Thriller Read online

  “Unharmed?”

  “Compared to everyone else around you.”

  “Lieutenant,” Fe said. “What are you saying?” She looked at Delano and Masterson, as if for support.

  “Nothing.” She exhaled. “Now, there’s someone from the FBI waiting for you. Don’t make them wait long. You wouldn’t like them when they’re kept waiting”

  Abby was taken to another conference slash interrogation room, though this one leaned more toward the former. A man was sitting on the table, one gray-suited leg hanging off the edge, watching a video. He turned it off when she entered.

  She was alone now, Fe having pushed her through the door then shut it.

  “Abby, right?”

  It was obvious he already knew the answer, but Abby nodded anyway.

  “Before we begin, do you need anything? Drink? I don’t know, donuts?” He chuckled.

  Abby smiled and shook her head.

  “Quiet one. All right, let’s get started.”

  And so Abby once more told everything she knew. She was very careful to keep her story the same as the one she’d told Masterson.

  After an hour, maybe two, of this, the agent—whose name Abby still didn’t know—was clearly disappointed at this consistency. He took a deep breath, released it as a sigh. It smelled like menthol cigarettes. “That’s all? Nothing you’ve left out?”

  Abby shrugged. “It’s all I remember.”

  “Okay then.” He looked up toward the ceiling, made a come here gesture with his fingers.

  Abby followed the motion and spotted the camera under a tinted dome. She wondered what reason the installers had had for not just having it in the open. It also made her reconsider her earlier assessment that this was a conference room.

  Shortly, the door opened, and another suited man entered. “Ready?”

  The agent interviewing Abby shook his head. “We’ve got it all, see if you can’t get them to just use what we have. Let’s let her get some rest.” He smiled at Abby. “How’s that sound?”

  What did he think she was, she thought, a little girl? She just smiled though, said, “Sounds great.”

  She was taken to an undisclosed location. Undisclosed, “Since you’re a reporter,” someone had told her. This same person said they were blindfolding her for the same reason. They didn’t actually use a blindfold though, but one of those sleeping masks. It allowed light to seep in by her nose, but otherwise blinded her.

  The combination of the rocking of the vehicle and the near blackness the mask afforded, and Abby was asleep before she realized she was drifting off.

  She awoke to fingers on her neck. “What?” she said, looking around into blackness. She reached up and removed the mask. A woman, very young—a teenager Abby would guess, but probably at least twenty-one, given the way she was dressed, and that she was probably an agent—was straddling her. “She’s alive.”

  There was laughter from outside the vehicle.

  “Of course I’m alive,” Abby mumbled. She groaned. “Uh, can you, get off.”

  “Sorry.” The agent got out, reached atop the vehicle where her glasses apparently were, and put them on. “Assholes,” she said turning back to the small group, who were all laughing.

  One man was literally in tears, resting his hands on his knees. “Again!” he managed. “Oh, God! I can’t believe—” He cut himself off with laughter.

  “Fool me twice, shame on me. Fool me three times, you ain’t gonna fool me again.”

  This caused more laughter.

  The woman turned back to Abby. “Come on, let’s leave these jackasses to their menial tasks. I’ll show you your quarters.”

  “Huh?”

  “Your room. Sorry, I was in the navy.”

  She seemed insistent on helping Abby out, so Abby let her, despite being perfectly capable of stepping out of a vehicle unassisted.

  They were in something like a warehouse, or a factory without the machines. It was all a dusty gray, and the dirty windows let in just enough light to illuminate the dust in the air.

  Abby followed the woman up a flight of metal stairs, down a dimly lit hall, and to a steel door.

  The agent removed keys from her pocket and opened the door. Then, turning to Abby, she reached into her other pocket, and removed a key. “Here,” she said, holding it out to Abby.

  Abby took it, then entered her new home. There was a bed, but that was about all she could say for it. “How long am I going to be here?”

  The door shut.

  “Hey!” She walked up to the door. She could hear someone locking it. She jiggled the handle, then put her key in the lock and turned it. She yanked the door open.

  “Ow!” the woman said, sucking her finger. “That hurt.”

  “Why are you locking me in?”

  “You have a key. You’re not locked in.”

  “Then why lock it?”

  “For your safety.”

  “We’re not safe here?”

  “Look, they tell me to lock the door, I lock the door.”

  “They tell you to check my vitals, you jump me and check them.”

  “Yeah, well. I meant it. I’m not falling for that crap again. You just looked dead.”

  “Thanks.”

  There was a silence.

  “So what did you rip open my finger for?” She asked, looking at her finger. She lifted her head toward the door. “Hand me those?”

  Abby looked at the door whose handle she was still griping. Keys dangled from the opposite knob. She removed them and gave them over.

  “Thanks.”

  “I wanted to know what’s going on. How long am I going to be here? And Ecks, where is he?”

  “X? Is that a codename?”

  Abby raised an eyebrow.

  “You know, Men in Black, letters for names.”

  Abby frowned. “Uh, no. It’s his name.”

  “Hm. Well, I don’t know anything about that.”

  “You guys had some place under surveillance,” she prodded.

  “Oh, yeah, yeah. Still nothing there. We’re watching it downstairs if you want to come.”

  Abby stared for moments. “Are you fucking with me?”

  “No.”

  Abby frowned, then shook her head. “Okay, let’s go then.”

  The woman sighed, as if this was a big hassle. “You could have said that before we came all the way up here. Now they’re gonna be like, Oh, look who’s back, what were you up to?”

  “They sound like little children.”

  The woman nodded. “Come on then. No, lock the door.”

  Back through the hall they went, down the stairs, and down some more to something like a basement, where several people were gathered, talking quietly or observing a large screen against the wall opposite the door Abby and her escort had just entered through.

  There were boxes of pizza, bags of chips, and bottles of soda everywhere. Scattered throughout this, Abby spotted cans of Red Bull and generic coffee cups. It reminded her of some of the startups she’d covered, their LAN parties, or even their regular parties.

  Everyone looked at the two arrivals, then went back to what they were doing without comment.

  The woman leaned over to Abby, whispered in her ear. “Don’t trust it.”

  “What?”

  “Shh! They’re acting all normal, like they don’t care. That’s when you gotta watch out.”

  This poor girl, Abby thought. She wondered how much crap she’d had to put up with. Downside to looking so young.

  On the screen was a building. None of the lights were on inside it, and nothing seemed to be going on.

  The woman saw Abby watching and said, in a normal voice, “Nothing’s happened recently.”

  “Ecks is in there?”

  “Like I said, I don’t know who that is. But the bad guys are in there. Some of them.”

  “What will you do when they come out?”

  “Depends.”

  “What on?”

&nb
sp; “On,” a man nearby interjected, “how they come out. Guns blazin’? Party time boys.” He sighed, as though this was entirely too unlikely for his liking. “Otherwise, we’ll just follow ‘em, see what they do. Then apprehend them at an opportune moment.”

  “My friend’s in there—Ecks—do you know about him?”

  “I—” he began, but the woman interrupted him.

  “Ohhh,” she said, drawing it out, “The guy you’re with. Why didn’t you say that’s who you meant? Yeah, we think he’s in there. Boyfriend, right?”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Well, we— Wait, which are you asking about?”

  Abby frowned. Now she did kind of wonder if the girl was guessing or actually knew. “Both.”

  “Okay. Actually, I guess video is the answer to both.”

  “What!”

  The seated man stood. “Agent Vasquez! Stop antagonizing her.” He turned to Abby. “She’s just joking.”

  “Uh, yeah,” Agent Vasquez said. “Sorry. I… Um…”

  “Your friend,” the man said, “we think he’s in there. A message was left with your voicemail service, that Ecks had a job to do. So we think he’s still alive.”

  “Unless it’s a job he could do just as well dead.”

  The man opened his mouth, but no words left it. He took in a breath. “I’m Agent Scott, by the way.” He shook her hand.

  “What else did they say?”

  “Nothing.”

  “They just were checking in, letting me know what Ecks was up to?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. If you need anything, no matter what it is,” he smiled, “you just let Emily here know, and she’ll get it just as fast as she can.”

  Agent Vasquez—Emily—smiled vapidly. “I’m your official bitch. I live to please you.”

  Abby flattened her lips together to avoid smiling.

  After a while it was clear no one expected anything to happen any time soon. However, it was better than being alone in a room—for now—so Abby stayed. She also wanted to be here just in case anything did happen.

  Hours passed, people mostly left Abby alone. Emily eventually excused herself, and Agent Scott took her place.

  “How you hanging in there?”

  Abby turned her attention away from the screen to look at him. “I’m okay.”

  He nodded. “That’s good.”

  Silence.

  Abby looked back toward the screen.

  “So,” he offered.

  She once more looked at him.

  “How are you handling things?”

  Abby laughed. “Did you just rephrase your question?”

  He smiled. “Ah, I might have. Habit. Just trying to make you feel at ease.”

  “Thanks. But I’m as at ease as I’m going to get for now.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, of course. Okay then. I’ll just”—he looked around—“well, I’ll just sit here.”

  Abby laughed again. “Okay, that sounds good.”

  …

  At some point, she must have put her head down on the table, because this was how she awoke. Not so much to commotion, as to the lack of one. She lifted her head from the table. The pain this caused in her neck was an efficient reminder not to fall asleep like a little kid. She rubbed at her neck as she tried to get her eyes to open.

  When they did, she peered around the empty room. She rubbed her eyes, yawned, then stared at the screen for a few moments before realizing what she was seeing. Or what she wasn’t seeing. No longer could she see the building, but instead what looked like gravel, and what looked like a wall.

  She stood suddenly. She exited the room, got turned around trying to find the stairs, but eventually did. On the main floor, there were a few vehicles still parked inside, but most of the ones she’d seen when she had arrived were gone.

  “Hello?”

  No reply came.

  No way they just left her here. Wasn’t she supposed to be in protective custody? Her stomach dropped as her mind offered up the unwelcome possibility that this was another game ‘They’, were playing on her. But once her rational mind had time to process this thought, she dismissed at as impossible.

  “Is anyone—” she stopped herself. Too many horror movies went this way, she thought. Instead of calling out again, she wandered around, looking for signs of anyone. She tried to check in one of the vehicles, but all the doors were locked. The only one that was unlocked was a sporty car. She flipped the sun visor down, but there were no keys. They wasn’t even an ignition. This prompted her to check the armrest, center console, and glove box, but all were entirely barren.

  Shutting the door, she looked around the place. There seemed to be fewer vehicles than she had remembered. The only other thing of interest on this level was a smallish room, maybe an office, near the center. It had four half-glass walls, so she could tell that it was unoccupied.

  “This is weird,” she mumbled without realizing as she walked toward it. Her footsteps were not loud, but there was no other noise, and so she could hear their echoes.

  The door was locked. She peered in through the glass, but there didn’t seem to be anything of interest. Just a cabinet, two—no, three, and a trunk, which seemed odd to her.

  She leaned away and sighed. Upstairs it was.

  The quietness began to wear on her as she walked, and she was becoming more and more convinced that everyone had left. Had left her, and she was alone. “Great fucking job protecting me,” she whispered, shaking her head as she climbed the stairs.

  She paid more attention this time, looking for alternate routes. It was also much darker up here than down below, which made it much creepier.

  She thought she heard something, and halted. As she listened, her own breath seemed to grow in volume. All she heard was vague ringing and her own breathing and heartbeat.

  She licked her lips and continued on. She thought she had gotten lost, but then came to the dim hallway. She followed it to the door she had been taken to earlier. It was locked. She checked her pockets for her key, found it, and opened the door.

  She entered into a completely black room. Her breathing quickened as she frantically slid her hand up, down, and across the wall looking for a switch. When she couldn’t find one, she reached for her cell phone to use for light, but of course, that was gone too.

  There’s no one else here, she told herself. I’m alone. All alone. She continued sliding her hand on the wall, imagining dark shapes darting around to avoid her, all the better to frighten her when she did turn on the lights. Or maybe she wouldn’t ever find the lights, and they’d lock her in so they could torment her with sounds in the dark.

  The room lit up. Abby froze. She hadn’t felt any switch.

  “Abby,” a familiar voice said.

  Oh God, she thought. No, not him. Move, she thought. Move.

  She did, quickly taking in the room. It was empty. “What do you want?” she asked the empty air.

  No reply.

  She frowned. “Hello?”

  Still nothing.

  She searched the room for speakers or cameras, even checked the three air vents she found. But there was nothing obvious.

  She sat down on ‘her’ bed, telling herself she had just imagined it, but then she remembered the lights. She scanned the walls. There were no light switches. A sensor? Timer?

  “What the fuck?” she said with exasperation, falling backward onto the bed. The FBI had taken her into protective custody, and then left her all alone. “What the…” She threw her arm across her eyes. Then she groaned and got up. At the door, she listened for a moment, then quickly locked it. Doing this made her feel better than it should have. Though now she didn’t feel much like lying down again.

  Instead, she went to what looked to be a window with curtains covering it, and peeked through. It was a wall. She sighed and went back to the bed. She was stuck here, unless she wanted to walk. Was it night? she wondered.

  She loo
ked around the room for some indication of the time, but there was none.

  She again lay on the bed, trying to figure out what to do. It was weird how tired she was. Coffee or tea would be good. It’d been awhile since she’d had any.

  And so, Abby drifted off to sleep, thoughts of creamy caramel and mocha lattes and boba tea occupying her conscious thoughts, until they faded away into the dark, and she had no more.

  “They just left you?” the man with the suit asks.

  You can’t believe it either. You never exactly thought of the FBI as optimal babysitters or anything, but still.

  Abby chuckles. “You know, out of everything that happened, that was one of the strangest.” She nods as she goes on, “I mean, it seems less crazy now that I know why, but—” she shakes her head and lets out a short laugh.

  “Well don’t keep us in suspense,” the doctor says.

  “I’ve been talking a lot. I’m really thirsty.” She looks at the thirteen-year-old. “And someone didn’t find any water.”

  “What? No. Like you said, I didn’t find any. Not my fault. We can go back there if you want. Maybe there’s food, or other things I missed.” She purses her face. “I don’t think I was— I was kinda out of it when I went there, you know?”

  “I’m not leaving here,” the man with the suit jacket says.

  “The two of us can go.”

  “I’ll join you,” you say.

  Abby looks at you, then nods. “Anyone else?”

  “We should wait for rescue,” the man says, now clutching the jacket.

  “We are,” the doctor’s wife says. “Doesn’t mean we can’t look for supplies.”

  Abby stands, and the thirteen-year-old follows suit.

  You do as well.

  “If they haven’t gotten to us yet, that probably means it’s going to take them some time to get down here. So yeah, we should look for supplies.”

  “They might be worried about another bomb,” the long-haired man says.