Mirror-Walker II

The Rescue of Beloved

 

by Mitchell Micon

 

SAMPLE CHAPTER

 

***

Chapter One

“Chi in the Morning”

 

Detective Robert Nash sang softly to himself as he stepped out of the shower. He was moving more slowly than usual because his morning routine– including a long, hot shower– was the most relaxing part of his day. He treasured his morning time because it prepared him for a possible day of stress and danger chasing criminals, or an equally possible long and boring day on a stakeout, or even worse– and just as possible– a day trapped in the office doing paperwork. All three scenarios were realities of being a police detective in a small Iowa town.

Dripping water on the large bath mat and still singing softly to himself, he stepped over in front of the sink and picked up a can of shaving cream. He squirted some out onto his fingers and had just reached up to smear the lather across his chin when a face suddenly appeared in the mirror.

For just an instant, his own face with its disheveled hair and shadow of a beard was replaced by the face of a young Chinese girl. She was screaming and appeared almost hysterical. Robert jumped back from the mirror and yelled, “What the hell!?!”

When he looked back into the mirror, his own image stared back at him.

“Flashbacks,” he said to himself, shaking his shoulders. Then he added, “Or maybe I’m going to have to check with David to see if anything is going on.”

He again raised his hand to put the shaving cream on his face. This time he didn’t jump or cry out when the screaming face again appeared in the mirror. Instead, he looked around the room as if looking for someone and said, “Chi? Are you here? What’s going on?”

He looked back into the mirror. Again the face flashed for just an instant. This time the girl wasn’t crying or screaming. Instead, she was looking at him with very wide eyes as if she were pleading with him to act.

“Chi,” he said loudly. “I don’t know what is going on, but I understand that you are here trying to contact me and that something must be terribly wrong.” He paused as if thinking quickly and then said, “Give me thirty minutes and then come to me again. I will be in my office by then. I’ll make sure there is a mirror near me.”

He looked around the room almost frantically. “Chi, I can’t hear you or see you except for that brief instant when you are first coming through the mirror. If you understand what I asked you to do, go back and come through the mirror again, but this time, smile so I know you understand what I asked you to do.”

He then turned and stared into the mirror. Almost immediately, the face once again flashed in front of him. This time the face which he saw for only an instant was smiling– or at least her mouth was almost formed in a smile. It was more like a grimace. Tears were brimming in her eyes, but it was obvious that she was trying to force a smile.

“OK!” Robert yelled. “Come back to me in thirty minutes and I’ll have a plan so we can talk.”

He stared into the mirror for a minute or two making sure that the face was not reappearing, then he ran to his bedroom and grabbed his phone out of its charger. His first call was to the dispatcher. “Helen,” he said quickly, “it’s me, Detective Nash. I need you to send a car over to David  Malone’s house.”

He listened for a moment and then added, “Tell them it’s a wellness check with suspicions of foul play. If there is no answer, break in if they have to. It might be a crime scene so tell them to be careful.”

After a pause, he said thoughtfully, “You better send two cars. If something hinky is going on it might be best to have backup already there and standing by.”

He again listened for a moment and then pressed a button to clear the call. His second call was to a service that he had to use occasionally. “This is Detective Robert Nash of the Plain City, Iowa, Police Department,” he began. “I have need of a telephone interpreter for Mandarin Chinese. I will call back in approximately thirty minutes.” He shook his head up and down as he listened to the response. “Got it,” he finally said. Then he added, “Yes, Inspector Harris will authorize the standard rate.”

Setting his phone back on the dresser, Robert raced back into the bathroom and hurriedly shaved, dried himself, and combed his hair. This morning was no longer a time for leisure and relaxation. Racing back into the bedroom, he hurriedly dressed and headed for the door. The only thing that slowed him down was the fact that in his haste, he keyed the wrong code into his gun safe and had to re-enter it several times in order to get to his service weapon.

Twenty minutes later he was walking quickly into the squad room at police headquarters.  A framed mirror was tucked under his arm. Inspector Harris was standing next to his desk waiting for him.

“What in the hell do you need a Mandarin Chinese translator for?” he yelled as Robert approached. “And why did you send two patrol cars to David Malone’s house?”

“I don’t have time to explain right now,” the detective replied. “And you wouldn’t believe me anyway. Just let this play out and I’ll explain later.”

“Do you have any idea what these translators cost us?” the inspector yelled. He was almost screaming now and his nose was nearly touching Robert’s.

Detective Nash pulled away from him and drew himself up to his full six-foot three height. Then he smiled at his boss and said in his best imitation of Clark Gable, “Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn.”

His face then turned very serious as he said quickly, “If I’m wrong, I’ll pay the fee myself. ... But if I’m right, David Malone is in really deep trouble.”

“You can get away with an awful lot if you’re right,” the inspector said firmly. Then he added harshly, “Just don’t ever be wrong.”

“Yes, sir,” Robert snapped back as he set the mirror on his chair and pulled the phone into the center of his desk. He picked up a pad of paper from the corner of his desk and wrote something across it before setting it next to the telephone.

“Chi, if you’re already here,” he said as if talking to the mirror, “just wait a little bit. I said a half hour and it’s only been twenty-five minutes.”

“Who in the hell are you talking to?” demanded Inspector Harris.

“Patience,” Robert answered. “Patience.”

For the next five minutes he paced back and forth in front of his desk. Then, he stood in front of his desk and faced the mirror. “I have no idea where you are in the room,” he said, “but I am assuming that you are here and you can understand me. David said that you can read American numbers, so I wrote my direct line phone number on that pad on my desk. What I want you to do is wait ten more minutes...” He turned and pointed to a clock on the wall. “That would be nine fifteen our time. Then call that number. Just say anything so I know that you are there and I will bring a translator onto the line who can tell me what you are saying.”

“This is bullshit!” Inspector Harris said loudly. “I’m pulling the plug on this nonsense right now!”

“You’d better take the call on line two before you do that,” a voice said from behind him. One of the desk clerks from the main area was standing in the doorway. She looked upset, like she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do. Her hands were bouncing slightly as she held her arms at her sides.

“Who’s it from?” the inspector asked quickly.

“The White House,” she answered in a shaky voice. “It’s the First Lady and she said she needed to talk to you before you did something stupid.”

“I made a few calls on my way in,” Detective Nash said with a suppressed smile. “I have a feeling this is a lot bigger than it looks.”

Inspector Harris’ face was pale, but impassive, as he said softly, “I’ll take the call at my desk.”

Before turning to walk into his office, he said brusquely to Detective Nash, “You’d better be right about this.”

“I wish I wasn’t,” Robert responded, “but I’m afraid I am.”

A few moments later, Inspector Harris returned to the squad room. “She wants this on speaker,” he said glumly as he pushed a button on Robert’s phone and motioned for someone to close the door.

“You are on speaker now,” Inspector Harris said loudly.

“Thank you,” came a voice from the speaker. “For those of you who don’t know who I am, I am Helena Travis, wife of President Douglas Travis. The details of David Malone’s involvement in my rescue last year have been kept from the public, but let me assure you that without his help I would never have been found... at least not alive.”

She paused slightly and then said more loudly and firmly, “And when I was found, Mister Malone put his body between me and a gunman who was about to shoot me.” After another short pause she said with some emotion in her voice, “That is why this is important to me.”

A male voice came through the speaker, “And the reason that it is important to me is that he stopped a very complex plot to create a war between us and China.” There was a slight cough. “He nearly single-handedly stopped that plot, but the people behind it were never caught. We believe this might be a first move by those bastards to take David out of the picture before they try something new. This has to be kept out of the public eye as much as possible, but you will have my full support for whatever you need.”

“Yes, sir, Mister President,” Inspector Harris snapped back, almost standing at attention as he spoke.

“And one more thing,” the President said, “you can’t be sure of anyone in this. The last time,  the head of the Secret Service was involved. All communication comes through Helena... actually through Mark Nash, her personal bodyguard. You got that?”

A chorus of “Yes, Mister President,” rang out in the room.

“OK, then,” he answered brusquely. “Keep us informed. ... and find that kid.”

The line was dead before the second chorus of “Yes, Mister President” filled the room.

Inspector Harris looked across the desk at Detective Nash for several seconds before releasing a deep breath and saying, “Your request for a translator is approved.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” said a voice from the doorway. Everyone looked up to see the same desk clerk who had announced the call from the White House peeking around the door. She looked just as disturbed and upset as she did when she had talked to the White House.

“Your phone was busy,” she said, “so the call transferred over to me. A woman named Kong Ling, from Penglai, Shandong, China, wants to speak to the man her granddaughter calls Warrior Robert.

“That would be me,” Detective Nash said slowly. After a pause, he asked, “Is she speaking English?”

“I don’t speak Chinese,” the clerk responded as she shrugged her shoulders and turned to walk away.

“Put it through,” Robert called out after her.