I recently finished a writing class where I produced several short stories. So far none of them have been published, and I have returned my focus to novel writing. The problem with short stories is that there isn't a big market for them. Almost nobody gets magazines with short stories in them anymore.
As a writer, you work several hours on a story. You send it out into the world looking for a home. You deal with the rejections and tweak the story. In the end you might get a hundred bucks for your efforts. But they are still fun to write. So, I have decided to post this story for your enjoyment. Enjoy. Feel free to critique. Thanks for reading.
Once A Pawn
“I’m
innocent!” shouted Jamil, but the sound traveled no further than the
soundproofed walls. He strained to see through the mirrored glass in vain. He
guessed it had been over an hour since they locked him up. “I’ve done nothing
wrong! This is all just a misunderstanding!” He rapped his knuckles against the
glass. “Can anyone hear me?”
Nobody
responded.
Tired
of pacing the room, he sighed and sat down in the stiff metal chair. By now, he
was sure his flight home to Chicago had left without him. He wondered how he
was going to explain this one to his ex-wife. She would be furious when he didn’t show up for their
daughter’s birthday party tonight. If they ever let him make a phone call he
would try and explain it to his daughter, but three-year old girls have a hard
time understanding the concept of distance.
Jamil
jumped to his feet when he heard the door open with a squeak. A uniformed
policeman walked in followed by a short guy in a suit. The uniform placed pen,
paper, and two bottles of water on the metal table and left. The short guy in
the suit stood motionless with both hands in his pockets, staring at Jamil as
if sizing him up for a fight.
Jamil
knew he should say something, maybe introduce himself, but he froze with
uncertainty. He just stood there, waiting for something to prod him into
action.
“Hello,” said the guy in the suit as he
extended his hand, “I’m Special Agent Conti.”
Trying
to show a measure of confidence, Jamil took the man’s hand in a firm grip and
introduced himself. “Jamil Tannous, Equipment Sales and Leasing with Commercial
Banking Corporation, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Sit
down Mr. Tannous,” said Agent Conti as he took a seat at the table. “You’re in
a bit of trouble today.”
“Please,
call me Jim. And, yes, I do seem to be in a difficult spot,” responded Jamil as
he took his seat.
“Okay…
Jim.” Agent Conti pushed a bottle of water across the table. “Do you know why
you’re here?”
“Well,
I know that I was selected for random screening at Kennedy airport as I was
going through security, and when they swabbed my briefcase sirens went off.
After that, the TSA took me into custody. They held me for short time before I
was transferred to NYPD and brought to this room.” He opened the bottle of
water and took a drink. “Obviously
my briefcase has alarmed a few people. I didn’t know leather could get you guys
so riled up.”
Agent
Conti smiled at the weak attempt at humor. “Leather alone doesn’t excite me,
but let me read you a list of things that the swab from your briefcase
contained.” He picked up the notepad and began reading the words with some
difficulty. “Cyclotrimethylene trinitramine more commonly known as RDX,
polyisobutylene, and diethylhexyl. Are you familiar with those chemicals or
substances?”
“No, but they don’t sound that
harmful,” he chuckled, “Only difficult to pronounce.”
“The substances are a lot easier to
pronounce if you just use the street name. Can you say C-4?” asked Agent Conti.
“In addition to the traces of C-4 on
your briefcase, we found eleven-thousand five hundred and twenty dollars in your briefcase covered in the stuff.”
Agent Conti paused. “Blown up anything recently?”
“Just my marriage,” retorted Jamil. He
ran his hands through his hair. “Look, this is just a misunderstanding. I can
explain.”
Agent
Conti turned the page on his notepad and tapped his pen. “Do you travel to
Spain often?”
“Yes,”
answered Jamil looking more puzzled by the moment. “I travel to Spain
regularly. Why?”
Agent
Conti referred to his notes. “I see that you just returned from Spain,
particularly Malaga, Spain. What hotel did you stay at?”
“Uh…the Malaga Palacio, as usual.”
“Do you know what happened at the
Malaga Palacio about four hours ago?” Agent Conti leaned close enough for Jamil
to smell the onion on his breath. “Jim?”
“No,” said a puzzled Jamil as he leaned
back as far as the metal chair allowed.
“Somebody
used C-4 to blow up a couple of rooms.”
The
blood left Jamil’s face. The knot in his stomach came untied and unleashed a
wave of nausea.
Agent
Conti tapped his pen on his notepad. “It just so happens that the US Ambassador
and his family were in the rooms at the time of the explosion and several
people were killed… including the Ambassador.”
Jamil
placed his trembling hands on the table and looked Agent Conti square in the
eye. “I am innocent!” He shook his head and looked away. “I had nothing to do
with that explosion!” He crossed his arms and clammed up.
Agent
Conti popped a breath mint into his mouth. “I want to believe you, but so far
you haven’t provided any explanation.” He propped his feet up on the table.
“So, tell me how you ended up at JFK with traces of C-4 and over eleven grand
in a briefcase about the same time a US Ambassador was being blown to bits in the
foreign hotel you just returned from. It better not begin with, Once upon a time.”
Jamil
took a deep breath, relaxed his shoulders, and began his story.
“I
just got back from a business trip to Malaga, Spain. I landed in New York
yesterday evening on Iberian Airlines, but of course you already know all this.
I needed to go by the home office this morning, so I checked into the Central
Park Hotel and went to bed early.”
“Since
my body hadn’t adjusted to the time changes, I was wide awake at four o’clock
this morning. I’m a runner, so I decided to go for a run in Central Park down
by the Bethesda fountain; you know the one with angel statue, and then on to
the Ramble. When I got to the halfway point, about three miles, I took a little
breather and walked down to the edge of the lake.”
“There
at the base of a tree near the water’s edge, I noticed this clear plastic
bundle and took a closer look. As I got closer I could see that it was cash. I
recently got divorced, and the ex-wife took me to the cleaners, so I was pretty
excited. I looked around and didn’t see anybody. Since it was raining a little bit I had on a light jacket. I
stuffed the money into my jacket and ran back to the hotel, nervous as hell.”
“When
I counted the money, I noticed a white residue on some of the bills, but I was
in a hurry. So, I stuffed it all into my briefcase and showered for work. After
taking care business at the home office, I took a cab to Kennedy and here I
am.” Jamil let out heavy sigh and looked at Agent Conti for some sort of
reaction.
Agent
Conti rolled his eyes. “You expect me to believe that fairy tale? You found the money laced with C-4 in
Central Park while you were out for a morning jog? Please!”
“It’s
the truth!” shouted Jamil as he stood and began pacing the room. “Check with
the hotel, I’m sure somebody at the front desk must have seen me go for my
run.”
“Jamil…
Jim, even if we see you on the hotel security footage leaving and returning
when you said, that still doesn’t prove the rest of your story.” He tapped his
pen on his notepad. “How about this? You gave terrorists access to your hotel
room in Malaga. They paid you with money that had been exposed to C-4. You
handled the money and then with the residue still on your hands, you handled
your briefcase. You were selected for extra screening at JFK and, bingo, here
we are.”
Jamil
looked up at the blank and patient stare on Agent Conti’s face. The smell of
onion and mint lingered in the air between them.
Agent Conti looked at his watch. “Take
your time. I’ve got all day.”
Jamil fixated on the watch. “That’s
it!” he shouted as he slapped his hand on the table. “My running watch has a
built in GPS. It records my runs and downloads the information to my laptop. If
you let me download today’s run to my laptop, it’ll prove my story.”
Agent
Conti popped another mint and took in Jamil’s comments. After a moment, he looked at the
one-way glass and nodded. “Okay, we’ll take a look at the data from your watch,
but even if this backs up your story you’re not in the clear, you know.”
“I’m telling you the truth,” begged
Jamil.
Agent
Conti stood to leave, and stopped at the door. “We’ll see.”
#
Jamil
had paced the room for hours trying to stay alert against the onset of jet lag
and adrenaline letdown when Agent Conti opened the door.
“Have a sit Jim,” ordered Agent Conti.
“My story checked out didn’t it?” asked
Jamil in a calm voice.
“We
checked the security videos, spoke with the hotel clerks, and verified the
route from your GPS. Your jogging story checked out, but that doesn’t mean
you’re not hiding something,” answered Agent Conti as he took a seat.
Jamil
breathed a sigh of relief. “I told you I was telling the truth.”
Agent
Conti leaned forward. “I’ve been at this game a long time, and I can usually
tell when someone is lying or not telling me the whole truth.” He pointed at Jamil. “You’re not
telling me the whole story. You’re simply telling me the truth you want me to
hear.”
Jamil
looked away from the accusatory finger.
“Do you play chess Mr. Tannous?” asked
Agent Conti.
“I’ve
played a couple of times,” said Jamil with a shrug. “Personally I prefer
blackjack or Texas hold ’em.”
“I
have a theory about people,” continued Agent Conti. “People are like chess
pieces. Some people have the power to move their lives in multiple directions,
like the knights, rooks, kings, and queens. Others are simply pawns in the game
of life. They have limited ability to move, and are usually controlled by
others. They have little power to change the game, and are easily sacrificed.
In fact, many chess players make a clear distinction between chess pieces and
pawns. Which are you Jim? Are you a chess piece in this game, or are you a
pawn?”
“I
don’t think of myself as a pawn.”
“That’s
good. Because one of my other theories about people is, ‘Once a pawn, always a
pawn.’” Agent Conti popped a mint. “It’s just a theory.”
Jamil stabbed the table with his
finger. “Well, maybe I am a pawn, but I am not
a terrorist.”
Agent Conti put a briefcase on the
table. “That’s what I told the DA’s office.”
“You’re not charging me with anything?”
“Well,
you did try to pass through an airport checkpoint with explosive residue. We’re
confiscating your briefcase and its contents, including the money, but we’re
not charging you with anything… yet.”
“Am I free to go?”
“Yes,
but we need you to come in for more questioning tomorrow. Why don’t you get a good night’s rest,
and come back in around, say, ten o’clock? You don’t mind spending a couple of
more days in the city do you?”
“Do
I have a choice?” asked Jamil.
“No, not really,” replied Agent Conti as
he opened his briefcase. “We have
to keep your phone for a bit. You know, check out the calls and messages.”
Agent Conti slid a cell phone across the table. “The agency has provided you a
temporary replacement. My number is programmed in under ‘Conti’ if you think of
anything else.”
#
Jamil
walked out of the precinct office a free man, even though he didn’t feel like
one. A throng of cameramen and reporters pressed down on him making it almost
impossible to get into the cab. He wanted to sleep, but knew he needed to lose
the newshounds. After changing cabs several times, and a short ride on the
subway, he happened upon an out-of-the-way dive and checked in.
The
clerk didn’t seem to recognize Jamil and checked him in without fanfare. After
getting his room key, he slipped out front, found a pay phone, and dialed.
Layla picked up on the third ring.
“Hello,” answered Layla with a touch of
curiosity in her voice.
“It’s Jim. I need to see you. Tonight!”
“Jim? Are you okay? Did they release
you?”
“I’m fine, but I have a lot of
questions. I need to see you!”
“Sure
baby, tell me where you are and I will be there as soon as I can.”
“Be careful. I’m probably being
watched.”
Jamil
gave her directions and returned to his room. He was tired and irritated. He
knew he had been played, and he was determined to get some answers. Layla would
help him.
He
had just stepped out of a hot shower and was toweling off when he heard a soft
knock at the door. He wrapped the towel around himself and peered anxiously
through the peephole. A feeling of relief came over him when he saw Layla. He
unlocked the door and ushered her into the room.
She
had her hair pulled up under a Yankees baseball cap and sunglasses on. In spite
of the warm weather she had on a light jacket and sweatpants. She sat her large
handbag on the bed, and tossed the sunglasses next to it. When she took off the baseball cap hat
and let down her jet-black hair with a shake, the smell of her intoxicating
perfume filled the room.
“Oh
Jimbo, I’m so glad your okay,” she said as she rushed into his arms.
“Do you think you were followed?” he
asked.
“I
don’t think so. I think we’re safe,” she said as she kissed his neck.
He
pulled away from her and looked through the sheer curtains at the city lights trying
to keep his head straight. “Layla, I think those CIA guys played me.”
“What
do you mean?” She peeled off her jacket and pulled a bottle of wine from her
bag.
“Those
guys you introduced me to paid off my gambling debt at the casino in Malaga,
and told me they wanted to bug my hotel room so they could catch a spy. They
said it was a matter of national security. Instead they blew up the US
Ambassador and his family!”
“Hey baby, calm down.” She slipped up
behind him and started rubbing his shoulders. “I’m sure the CIA will clear up
the misunderstanding.”
He
shook free from her soft grip and spun to face her. “Misunderstanding! The
extra money they gave me was laced with C-4! They played me!”
Layla reached out and cupped his face
with her long fingers. “Oh Jimbo, I’m so sorry. You know it’s not your fault.”
She kissed him on the cheek. “Did you tell the police about them?”
“No, I didn’t tell the FBI about them
because I was afraid I would be implicated.”
“Hey
come on baby, you’re tired and upset,” She said as she drew the curtains. She
pulled close and wrapped her arms around him leaning her head on his chest.
“Let me pour a drink and ease your mind.” She looked up at him with her dark
eyes.
Jamil
pulled away and sat in the overstuffed chair across from the bed. He rubbed his
temples and tried to think.
“We
can clear up this mess, tomorrow. I’ll go with you and we can tell them the
whole story. Tonight just try and relax. Please?”
She
was right. It wasn’t his fault. He’d had a long and taxing day and he needed a
drink, a little fun, and a good night’s rest. Tomorrow they would get their
story straight and talk to Agent Conti, but tonight he could unwind with a good
woman.
Jamil
let out a heavy sigh and leaned back in the soft chair. “Maybe you’re right. I’m letting myself
get all worked up.”
She
perched herself on his lap and caressed his bare chest. “That’s my Jimbo. I’ll go with you tomorrow and sort this
all out.” She kissed his cheek and nibbled at his ear. “Let me pour you a drink
and change into something more to your liking.”
Jamil
closed his eyes and relaxed deeper into the soft cushions as Layla stood and
opened the bottle of wine. Too bad my ex
didn’t treat me like Layla. If she
had, maybe we would still be married.
“Here
you go Jimbo. Drink this while I go transform into your goddess of love,” she
said with a wicked look in her eye.
Jamil
took a long drink and began to unwind. His muscles began to relax. He could feel
all the tension of the day leaving him. Then the room began to spin. He
struggled to breathe. He tried to think, but it felt like his thoughts were
stuck in quicksand.
Layla
walked back into the room, still fully clothed, with rubber gloves on.
“Layla!
Help me!” His words slurred together. He struggled to remain conscious as the
room began to twirl.
She
ignored his pleas, and took his glass of wine with her gloved hands.
He
watched her through a gathering fog, trying to understand why she wasn’t
helping him. Like sounds echoing through a tunnel, he heard the hotel room door
burst open. Black-clad figures with guns rushed in. The fog faded to darkness.
#
Jamil
awoke to a strong antiseptic smell, and beeping noises. He was in a hospital.
He opened his eyes and saw Agent Conti sitting in the corner playing chess with
a uniform.
“Good
morning Jim,” said Agent Conti with a big grin. “We almost lost you there.
Welcome back to the land of the living.” He moved his bishop and took a pawn. “Checkmate.”
The End
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