The Whisper Box Read online

  He had not had the wind knocked out of him since playing football in high school, yet he instantly recognized the sensation. There are a few seconds where one actually feels all of the air exit the lungs. Most people panic, then realize what had happened and lie motionless for about thirty seconds. After that the pain sets in. This is exactly the order of events that Mac was going through.

  The scheme he had devised was obviously not going to work out, but there had to be another way, he thought. He wanted to avoid the front door at all costs. In spite of his injuries and his activities in the back alley, he had actually kept it all pretty quiet. As he paced back and forth panting and thinking, he saw his saving grace.

  The large wooden figure was off in the corner. These objects always piqued his desire. When he was in college, he really wanted one. One of his friends had one refinished and used it as a coffee table. He never knew what they were, but they look like big wooden wheels. The telephone and electric companies used them to wrap cable. He now had one. Now, he only wished he had seen it about five minutes ago; he would still be dry. He pushed it from the corner to the space directly below the stairwell. As he climbed onto the wheel and grabbed the stairwell at last, he shook his head in disgust about all he had been through. Then he slowly climbed the steps.

  Laura's apartment was on the third floor. The metal wedge she kept hidden to use to unlock her window when she locked herself out was exactly where she said he would find it. He slowly slid it through the crease where the upper and lower window met. Click! It worked like a charm; anyone could break into this woman's apartment. Laura had said she kept it there for emergencies, but he wondered how the hell she got to the pull down steps to get to it. He made a mental note to ask her.

  He eased the window open. This entire operation was going quieter than expected. When he climbed through the window into the bedroom, the first thing he noticed was the scent of pot-purée. It smelled feminine, as a woman's apartment should. The bedroom was your basic woman's bedroom. The bed had been made that morning or whenever she last slept in it. It was decorated with a small army of white throw pillows to match the color of the goose down comforter. He looked up and saw himself in the mirror standing on top of an oak chest of drawers. He looked like a vagrant. His sweater was torn and smeared with oil and mud. His pants were also torn. He could feel the blood trickling from his right knee down his shin. The same tingle was from his left elbow down his forearm. His hair was half damp and swirled about. Further more, he was soaking wet and dripping water, oil, and blood onto Laura's thick white carpet. As he tiptoed across the floor, searching for a light, his heart thumped harder and harder in his chest.

  The barrel of the stranger's gun was Aaron's first clue that someone else was in the apartment with him. The barrel was pressed against his forehead. The tip of the silencer was cold. He froze. His mind went blank. Little did he know that the man holding the gun had killed Michael, his clerk, only hours before.

  The stranger's gruff voice broke the silence. “Who sent you?”

  Mac's throat was swelling up; he could not get the words out.

  The stranger asked again, “I swear buddy, I will kill you. Who sent you?”

  Just then, the lights came on. Another man in a sleek suit wielding another silencer-laden gun was leaning on the wall next to the switch.

  The second stranger cut in, “What the hell are you doing Burt? The guy's a bum! We don’t need guns blowing off in an apartment building with tenants all around us because of a bum!”

  Mac had no idea what they were talking about. Then like a bolt of lightening it hit him. He really did look like a bum, so they assumed he was one.

  “How do you know he's a bum?” asked Burt.

  “Look at the guy,” said number two.

  “What the hell are you doin' here boy?” asked number two.

  “Sir, I was, I was comin' to sleep. 'Dis here m'am ain't been home for a few days now, so I figured I'd help myself to a nice couch and some warm clothes. I watch her every day. She left wit' suitcases just a day o' two ago. I figured I got another coupla' days. I'm very sorry, I didn't mean no harm.” said Mac in his best southern bum slang.

  Burt pushed Mac to the ground, held him face down on the floor, and wielded the gun again.

  “I don't believe you!” shouted Burt.

  “Burt, Burt, calm down man. We don't need this. There are tenants around.” He whispered softly but firmly.

  As Mac shook with fear, he could see the hole under the bed. This was exactly where Laura was hiding her evidence. All he could think was how close these two goons were to what they needed. Number two grabbed Burt's trigger arm.

  “Burt, calm down, put the gun away. I'm gonna' go check the hallway. I'm gonna' make sure we caused no ruckus and figure out what to do with our friend.”

  Number two then looked sternly at Mac. “Sir, let's just say that you are in the wrong place at the wrong time. Keep quiet. Sit still and you'll be OK.”

  Mac looked back at him and pleaded. “Sir, all due respect, but I ain't comfortable to sit in this room with 'dis man who jus' tried to kill me.”

  Number two stared at Mac for a second and said, “OK Burt, you go look in the hallway, make sure the door is locked, and then come back.”

  Mac breathed a huge sigh of relief. Burt left the room. It was apparent his higher-ranking partners decision to override his opinion angered him. Number two turned around for a split second to peak around the corner into the master bathroom. The coast was clear. As he was turning back around he heard Mac's voice.

  “Sorry buddy.”

  Mac hit Number two across the forehead and nose with an iron lamp on Laura's night table. Number two crumbled to the floor. Mac dropped to the floor, reached under the bed, grabbed everything he could feel in the hole, jumped up, across the bed, out the window, and actually got down the three flights of metal stairs hardly touching a step. His body jerked right and left, his head hit the side of the metal steps, he felt a cut open on the side of his forehead, but he kept scrambling. Before he knew it he was at the bottom.

  The leap from the fire escape to the concrete floor in the alley hurt both his ankles. Shooting pains traveled up his shins, aggravating his shin splints, but nothing stopped him. He dove into his Corvette, fumbled with the keys, started the car, and drove off in a frenzy. He hit each side of the brick buildings lining the alley. He did not care. His precious Corvette just went from first on his list to last in order of priority. He drove off into the night.

  5

  Night fell. Everyone in the house was asleep except for Aaron. He crept to the computer and slowly turned it on, hoping not to wake anyone. He was so anxious, he could not stand it. These damn computers took so long to turn on. They went through what seemed like twenty hard drive scans, then on to the virus check, and finally the big Windows screen. It seemed like an eternity. Finally the desktop appeared on the screen.

  He clicked on the Internet icon and was off. He went to their chat room. He was already smiling because of his excitement. Meeting a complete stranger who enjoyed the things he enjoyed was fun. The stranger's great sense of humor made it worse, or better, he was not sure. He scanned the chat room to see who was there. He saw the usual culprits. Aaron was already beginning to recognize these people. He knew which ones were wise guys and which ones were serious. He knew who the Democrats were. There actually were Democrats in the Republican rooms looking to start arguments. He thought it was foolish, but sometimes it was fun. As he scanned through the letter A, he saw AmericanRepublican (one of his favorites), he then saw BeantownBush, ForeignTrade, GoRepubParty, and all the others. He got to the “L” section. She was not there. No LadiesFirst! He was so disappointed he felt, a lump in his throat. Aaron decided to wait patiently. Maybe she was just running late or her husband might have come home unexpectedly. Aaron felt frustrated. He could not wait to discuss all the days' events with her. Farnsworth was going to fry and Aaron was excited.

  While waitin
g for LadiesFirst, Aaron went to another one of his favorite web sites, CNN.com. The Headlines were large. FARNSWORTH FEELS HEAT. He read four different articles. A woman living in New York named Laura Greene, a former White House employee, had some incriminating evidence on the leader of our country. That was all that anybody knew. One reporter pointed out that she had a nervous breakdown after the death of her mother, that the woman could not be trusted. Another reported that she was asked to leave the White House after making repeated sexual advances towards White House staff. It made Aaron sick that the media always rallied around the President.

  The stories were there. This would be a great time to get the President while he was down. Instead they were helping him. In Aaron's mind the government controlled the media.

  He asked himself under his breath over and over, “Who is Laura Greene? Where is she right now? When is she going to break the silence? Is she legitimate?”

  Aaron was sure the media would have all these questions answered by morning. This was no small story. This was the next O.J. Simpson story, one of the great stories of the century. He shook with anticipation.

  Aaron looked back into the Republican Chat Room. LadiesFirst still had not come in. He was annoyed. He zipped back to the CNN page and he read another smaller article about our President just to pass the time. The President was in France this past week and returned to Washington today. The media clobbered him when he arrived.

  Mr. President spoke to the American people through his media. “I never even knew there was a woman named Laura working in the White House. I know my staff. I trust we'll get to the bottom of this through the proper channels. I have to worry about the American people now, not a woman seeking the media's attention.”

  He made a couple more of those evasive comments that government officials are famous for, smiled, waved, and moved on into a limousine. The limousine sped off. Aaron shook his head and then he jumped back into the Republican Room. He scanned through the “L's” one more time. His eyes locked. His heart jumped. She was there. He wrote her.

  RepublicanStud: Hey stranger!

  LadiesFirst: Hi. I have to go. Sorry.

  RebublicanStud: What's wrong kiddo?

  LadiesFirst: Have you been watching the news today?

  RepublicanStud: YES! Salivating the whole time!!!! Can't wait to hear more from this woman.

  LadiesFirst: I know the rest of the story.

  RepublicanStud: Who broke the story? Is it on television yet? What happened?

  LadiesFirst: Nobody broke the story. I just know what all the buzz is about. I have to go RebupStud. Sorry.

  RepublicanStud: NO. WAIT!

  The message came back: LadiesFirst disconnected from server.

  Aaron was speechless. Is this woman crazy? He doesn't know her at all. She could be a cracked up psychopathic lunatic. He remembers Miles telling him about some guy he used to work with that would tell him that the German's tapped into his phone lines. He was crazy! Was she one of those people? His next thought hit him like a baseball bat. Was he actually chatting with Laura Greene? Supposedly, she is the only person that knows these things. The thought gave him goose bumps. His odds of winning the Lotto were actually better than him randomly getting on the computer and becoming friends with a woman that was about to break the biggest news story in American History. He thought he was overreacting, and reading too much into it. Maybe she just thought she knew.

  He moved to the couch and watched CNN all night. Nothing indicated that Laura Greene had been found. Someone in upstate New York claimed to have spotted her in a diner about an hour ago. The police were on their way, as was CNN. They would keep viewers posted. The story was getting better as it progressed. However, if CNN still did not know, how did LadiesFirst? Again, Aaron convinced himself she was a nut case. He felt a little depressed because he was starting to like her as a person. Oh well, he thought, at least I realized it so soon, laughing at himself for taking a person in a chat room so seriously. Aaron had every intention of watching CNN continuously until the story broke, but he dozed off twenty minutes into his vigil.

  When Aaron woke up at about two in the morning, he felt a sense of urgency that most people do not usually have when they first awake. For a second he was not sure why he felt this way. He was about to click the television off and go to sleep on the couch for the evening when he noticed Grant Winchester doing a live interview for CNN.

  Surely, the media had the whole story now. He sprung up, eased up the volume and listened. Grant Winchester had been a highly publicized reporter for about three years now. He was very professional and very good at his craft. His striking good looks made him a natural for the television camera. It was clear he kept his six foot four inch body in good shape. His jet-black hair and thick jaw gave him the appearance of confidence at all times. Even though he was someone who was strong, serious, and confident, he was someone that his audience felt comfortable with. Aaron liked his style and was glad to see the young reporter succeed. In fact, he had become the reporter of choice over the past couple of years. The other famous reporters were now looking up to Grant. His voice cut through your television screen, and his words stuck with you. The deep voice, perfect use of the English language, and clean shave let all viewers rest assured that they were always getting nothing but the facts from Grant.

  Aaron was finally awake enough to hear and understand his words. “At this point no news is good news. Several of the Presidents spokesmen have stated that the President is somewhat concerned. Sources indicate that he is not making it a priority.” Grant held the microphone with his right hand and put his left index finger to his ear as CNN cut to a segment with the President.

  Farnsworth looked right into the camera and spoke. “Our country has more important issues. I can assure all Americans that there is nothing behind this story. We are going to waste weeks pursuing this. We are going to spend hard earned American dollars investigating these accusations. We are going to give our children less attention than they deserve, all for nothing. Please, focus on your family and your jobs. There is nothing to this.'”

  The camera cut back to Grant. “In Poughkeepsie, New York, this is Grant Winchester waiting, listening and reporting. Now back to our studios.”

  The two reporters in the studio theorized about the possible scenarios. They did their best to make something out of nothing. No one knew any facts. They did not even know what allegations had been made. There was nothing but wild rumors to work from. Aaron tried hard to make himself believe that it would turn out to be nothing, knowing that if he did not anticipation would eat away at him every minute of every day.

  He was unable to fall asleep again. He felt that there was only one thing to do. He had to go to the Republican chat room to see what was going on in there. The great thing about these chat rooms was that they were international. It may be the middle of the night in Columbia, South Carolina but it could be mid afternoon somewhere else. At the very least, there were always a few people in the room arguing, debating, discussing, and planning. He loved it.

  The computer connected to the Internet almost immediately. He loved it when that happened. He clicked a few times and he was there. Aaron studied the conversation to see if anything new was being discussed. Nothing caught his attention. The usual suspects were bantering on about how they knew a friend who knew a friend who said that Farnsworth was hooked on painkillers. The next posting said that he had heard that Farnsworth was taking money from several sources, laundering it time and time again, and depositing it into some offshore accounts. The accusations and rumors were ridiculous. Aaron was studying each one when the “whisper box” popped up on his screen.

  LadiesFirst: Hi Stud. I'm very sorry about before.

  Aaron was overjoyed for a second. Then his earlier thoughts hit him hard. Was this Laura Greene? Was she a wacko? Still, he had to reply.

  RepublicanStud: Hi. What could have been so urgent before?

  LadiesFirst: I thought my husband was comi
ng into the room.

  RepublicanStud: That would have been bad. I guess the next question is an obvious one. What do you know about Farnsworth?

  LadiesFirst: Nothing. I thought I had it all figured out. I watched a little CNN before and found out that I was wrong. Sorry for the misinformation.

  Aaron froze. She really did know something. If she knew something an hour or two ago, there was absolutely nothing of any substance on CNN to convince her otherwise. There were no facts. There were no leads. There was nothing. So how did CNN convince her otherwise? It was impossible; she was obviously covering something up. Aaron did not want to continue. He might be getting himself into something bigger than he needed or wanted. He started to shake. Quickly, not wanting LadiesFirst to know his revelation he answered.

  RepublicanStud: Women are all alike. You all think you know some gossip and then you find out you were wrong. Hehe, just joking.

  LadiesFirst: Yeah, well, we women do tend to gossip. So how are you doing? I'm sure you are eagerly awaiting some sort of news to break, huh?

  RepublicanStud: You betcha'. So what did you think the Prez was up to (just out of curiosity)?

  LadiesFirst: Nothing, it's stupid. Forget it.

  RepublicanStud: I'm very excited. I hope this is the thing to bring this asshole down. I would love to be able to tell my Grandchildren that I remember when our President was jailed.