11: The Shattered World (Flashback)

*Michael Rosenberg strolled, trying too hard to act natural, to the phonebooth with a briefcase loaded with marked bills. The road was bustling with activity. Dozens of cops, disguised from hotdog vendors and mothers with strollers to construction workers and homeless beggars, pretended to mind their business. He was told by Detective Wade that the abductors would be expecting himself to drop the cash and they would be watching. That ran a shiver down his spine. He walked into the booth, picked up the phone and put it back after a moment as instructed by the detective. He walked out empty handed. Now the cops awaited their prey. Any criminal with a shred of intelligence would never fall for this but the police had put their expectations at the rock bottom. Mike almost puked with stress. He barely walked to his car parked a street away. The detective had decided to accompany him to try and make this easier for the troubled father. As he entered the vehicle, Wade tried to comfort him and repeated for the third time the statement of the manpower he had on the field. Mike nodded, clearly lost in grim thoughts. Wade felt his words hit a brick wall. He couldn’t blame him. There was a brief silence.
“Anything to report?”, the detective asked on the earpiece. The response was negative. He kept the words to the minimum to lessen the risk of his men blowing their covers.
A sketchiest looking middle-aged man of color arrived at the scene, trying his best to act natural but overdoing it. He stood out the moment he stepped into the view. He walked to the phonebooth and went inside.
“Detective! I think he has arrived!”, Wade’s earpiece croaked. He calmly ordered the driver to drive the car closer to the scene. As soon as the phonebooth was visible, the car stopped and Wade rolled down the window. Mike was anxious. The detective decided to let him in.
“It’s happening”.
The man in the phonebooth didn’t even pretend to make a call. The low expectations of police were justified. He stepped out of the booth hugging the case and looked both ways like an amateur. The cops had moved closer and had surrounded the booth. As he walked ten yards away from the booth, the hotdog vendor tackled him to the ground and recited him his rights. In mere seconds, approx. thirty cops flooded the scene. Some in disguises and some in uniforms. The crowd ran around in frenzy. The sound of cocking guns echoed. The suspect didn’t put up a fight and was brought up to his feet with his hands cuffed behind his back. Detective Wade arrived at the scene running. Mike ran after him denying his advice to stay in the car.
“Where is my son!?”, he shouted as he grabbed the man by his collar. Detective Wade softly pulled him away. “Trust me! We won’t waste any time”, Wade comforted him and directed his men to put the suspect in one of the cars. He ordered the officers assigned to that car to intimidate him as much as possible to make him spill the location of the hostage. He returned to his car with Mike.
Mike was drained. His patience was running out. He wondered what Grace was going through. At least he was seeing things move forward. “We’re using all our resources to expedite it. He is a junkie alright. I could smell heroin from a mile away. The man has a criminal record though but it’s all petty stuff”, Wade spoke as they got back into the vehicle.
“How petty?”
“Shoplifting and squatting petty”.
Mike was speechless.
“Just a bunch of guys who looked at you as a ticket out of the slums. What do you think attracted their attention?”, Wade added. Mike wasn’t sure how to answer that. He wondered for a while. He had kept his family away from the spot light all his life. Then it hit him. a friend of his working at the network had reached out to him for an interview on his morning show. He had introduced him as one of the youngest self-made millionaires in the country. It was going to be just another forgotten interview. Little did he know.
The detective spoke on the earpiece and ordered the driver to head for Chelsea with a rare hint of urgency in his tone. The car screeched and accelerated. Mike felt himself pushed into his seat by the force.
“He broke. He just gave up the location of his partner and possibly the child too”.
The driver flaunted his expertise and darted through the traffic. Mike felt a wave of panic surge in him. He looked to the detective and found him resolute. It somewhat comforted him.
The distance was covered in quarter of the time it demanded. The detective further directed the driver to the more precise location. It was a back alley. The dark alley was lit brightly by the red and blue flickers of the police lights. Wade suggested Mike to stay in the car and stepped out to talk to his men. Mike watched him intently, looking for any hints. Wade talked briefly and abruptly walked inside the alley. A couple of officers escorted a handcuffed junkie, barely able stand up on his feet, to a police car. The man had a faint smile on his face and was obviously under the influence. Mike couldn’t hold himself any longer. He dashed out of the car and grabbed the junkie by the throat.
“Tell me! where is my son!?”
“He saw my face, man! …. but I took care of that. The cops won’t get me now”.
The cops finally managed to separate the two. Maybe because Mike had lost the strength to grip him the moment he heard those words. He felt himself losing all his senses. Hearing was the first casualty. All he could hear were indecipherable echoes. The abductor was shoved into the police car behind him. He staggered into the alley, losing control of his body on each step. He found a green tyrannosaur bag pack soaking up in a puddle. He instantly threw up. His head kept shouting, “God no! Oh my God no!”. He walked past a few garbage cans and reached a small tent at the far end of the alley. It was a badly torn camping tent suitable for four persons. Wade stood outside. His back towards Mike. He turned around and tried to stop him from coming too close to the tent. Wade decided against it. There was no easy was to let him know. Mike walked past him into the tent. Among the empty beer bottles, used syringes and flattened cardboard boxes, he found Jack. The little suspenders were unmistakable. He leapt towards it. He couldn’t stop himself from wailing. He lifted him up and brought him out in the open. Little Jack’s face had turned blue. His lifeless body fell limp in his father’s arms.
“It’s alright buddy. Gorilla man is here”, his voice broke.
“Wake up buddy. Mama’s waiting”.
The boy was long gone. Mike knew what the junkie had meant when he said what he said. He just didn’t want to believe it. He hugged his boy and let out a pained cry. He wished that the earth would split and swallow him whole. The world felt crumbling around him. The silhouettes of homeless people and spectators, surrounding the crime scene, mocked him. Wade couldn’t do anything. He just stood there and let him be.
*