The Man From Taured Page 6

  "I figured maybe someone from the team had reached out to him," Denise said with a shrug. "They're smart guys and this is a weird case. I figured if it wasn't you then someone else had reached out to find this guy."

  Noble held up his hand in surrender and admission that he was being cranky. Denise was not to blame for this. This was something to bring up to his boss and the rest of the team.

  "Sorry, rough night," Noble said. "This case is getting to my head."

  Denise did not leave.

  "Is there something else, Denise?" Noble asked.

  Denise handed over another note. "Eveline Paulson called. She said she has questions and more information for you."

  Now that was interesting. "Thanks," Noble said. "I'm going to get coffee and then call her right back. Look, can you take some time to do another background check on this Dr. Shaw guy? Who the hell is he and did someone reach out to him? Anything else. Did he write articles or papers? Does he have a website, even a profile on the MIT or some university website?"

  Denise said she would and Noble followed her out of the office and down the hall to the nook where there was coffee. It looked like brown sludge, but it was full of caffeine. He took the cup back to his office, shut the door and then sat down. That first sip was like drinking gasoline, but he felt the immediate rush of caffeine.

  Noble reached out and grabbed the phone. A moment later Eveline Paulson's phone was ringing. She picked up on the third ring.

  "Hello?"

  "Eveline, this is Noble Randle from Homeland, how are you?" Noble asked.

  "Oh, I am not doing so well, Mr. Randle," she said. "Some weird things have been happening since you and I talked and I wanted to ask you about that."

  Noble was suddenly very alert and not feeling quite so tired. He had been learning all about weird lately.

  "What's been happening?" Noble asked.

  "Well, I've been seeing things," Eveline said. There was a tremor in her voice. "Things in the shadows. Red eyes. Things that look like men in the shadows around the house and in my house."

  Eveline choked back a sob.

  "Is that you guys?" She asked. "Are you watching me?"

  "No, Eveline, that is not us," Noble took a deep breath. Did he want to tell her that he had been seeing things, too? "We don't do that kind of thing. You may just be tired, Eveline. Maybe you need to take some time off."

  “It’s more than just shadow men. There are… There are kids, too."

  Noble felt a chill run its way up his spine. Suddenly his dream from the night before came back into full focus.

  "Children?" Noble asked, his voice strained.

  "Yes, children,” Eveline said. Noble could tell that she was just barely holding herself together, the tears were close. "They come to my door at night."

  "Ms. Paulson, we definitely would not send children to anyone's home," Noble said. "What do these children do?"

  "They ask to come in," Eveline replied. "They tell me that they're lost and that they want to come in and use the phone. Mr. Randle--"

  There was a pause and Noble listened to her breathing, trying to get herself composed. It was a losing battle.

  "What, Ms. Paulson?" Noble prodded.

  "They have no eyes," Eveline said. "They look at you with black eyes. I haven't let any of them into my home. They're the devil. What's going on?"

  Noble sat back in his chair and ran his hand through his hair. "I don't know, Ms. Paulson," he said. "I've seen the shadow figures, too."

  "You have!" Eveline said, her voice raising an octave or two. "Oh, my God, Mr. Randle, what is going on here? Who was this man and what was he doing?"

  "I wish I knew," he said. "Are you available to talk today? Maybe this evening?"

  "Yes," Eveline replied. "Yes, I have time tonight. Can you come by my apartment about six?"

  "Yes, I can make it," Noble said. "Look, don't answer the door. Stay home, keep your doors locked, and do not open them. Not for children, shadow men, or even your mother. OK?"

  "Yes," Eveline whispered, there was relief in her voice. "Thank you."

  Noble hung up the phone and sat there for a moment staring at the receiver as if it were a snake that might bite him.

  Children.

  Children with no eyes.

  Shadow people.

  "We have really gone through the looking glass," Noble whispered.

  Noble snapped out of his trance and frantically looked through his pile of papers and found the phone number for Chris Whitlock. A moment later he was punching the numbers and listening to the phone ring and ring at the other end. It rang six times.

  "Hello, you've reached the voicemail of Christopher Whitlock," the message said, "I can't get to the phone right now, but if you leave a name, message and phone number, I'll get back to you."

  Then there was a tone.

  Noble hung up the phone. He looked down at the information in his hand. There was the address and it wasn't too far from the airport. In fact, it was in a suburb called Schiller Park, right near the airport.

  Whitlock had already hinted that he was seeing things. What was he seeing? He had seen the shadow men, that was obvious, but what about the creepy black-eyed kids? Or was there something else out there? Some other nightmarish thing?

  Noble checked his watch. He had the interview with the head of the flight attendant crew in ten minutes.

  Noble got up, grabbed his notebook and headed down the hall. At the back of his mind was the name Dr. Lance Shaw. What the hell did he know, how did he know it and what the hell was going on?

  ***

  Transcript of Interview

  Date: June 16, 2014

  Time: 9:15 a.m. CST

  Person interviewed: Christene Burnham of International Airlines

  Interviewer: Noble Randall of I.C.E. on behalf of Homeland Security

  Subject: Strange occurrences on June 3, 2014, Chicago O'Hare Airport International Terminal.

  Noble Randle (NR): Thank you for coming, Ms. Burnham.

  Christene Burnham (CB): You’re welcome. I’m not sure what I can do to help you, but I’m glad to help

  in any way possible.

  NR: You were on Flight-190 from Spain on June 3, correct? In fact, you were the head flight attendant?

  CB: That’s correct.

  NR: While you were on that flight, did you see this man in any of the seats?

  CB: No, he does not look familiar.

  NR: Was there anything strange at all about that flight?

  CB: Nothing that stands out. It was a very smooth flight. No one complained and all of the passengers

  were behaving. Nothing really that stands out at all.

  NR: Where did you go after the flight landed in Chicago?

  CB: The crew all met together in the terminal and headed through customs together. All of us had the

  night off and I had a flight back out to Europe the next morning, so I wanted to get to the hotel and get some sleep.

  NR: Did you see anything strange when you were in the customs area?

  CB: Nothing really. I heard that there was a bit of a commotion with a passenger who was on our flight,

  but there was nothing going on when I got there.

  NR: Did any of the crew see anything? Anything that you discussed at any point?

  CB: If they did, they didn’t mention anything to me.

  NR: OK, thank you, Ms. Burnham. I appreciate you coming in here and talking to me.

  CB: Can I ask you a question?

  NR: Sure.

  CB: Was there something weird that happened with that flight? Some kind of weird government

  experiment or something?

  NR: Why are you asking that?

  CB: I keep seeing strange men in suits and hats lurking outside my house. I just figured they were

  connected to the government or something.

  NR: Strange men? What do they look like?

  CB: Well, they lurk in the shadows, so they’re hard to
see. I can see they are wearing long coats and

  wide-brimmed hats. They must be wearing some kind of night-vision goggles, because I can see red where their eyes should be. Is that you guys? Are you spying on us?

  NR: No, Ms. Burnham. We are not following anyone from Flight-190. Can I ask you something else, Ms.

  Burnham?

  CB: Of course you can. That’s why I’m here.

  NR: Have you seen any strange children?

  CB: Children?

  NR: Strange children at your front door?

  CB: No, Mr. Randle. That is a very odd question.

  NR: Yes, I suppose it is. OK, sorry for the odd turn there. You can go now. Thank you again.

  CB: You’re welcome. So, who are these weird people outside my house?

  NR: I wish I knew, Ms. Burnham. I wish I knew.

  END OF INTERVIEW

  ***

  Transcript of Interview

  Date: June 16, 2014

  Time: 11:15 a.m. CST

  Person interviewed: Captain Craig Culp of International Airlines

  Interviewer: Noble Randall of I.C.E. on behalf of Homeland Security

  Subject: Strange occurrences on June 3, 2014, Chicago O'Hare Airport International Terminal.

  Noble Randle (NR): Thank you for coming in, Captain Culp.

  Graig Culp (GC): My pleasure, although I can't imagine I'm going to be much help.

  NR: You were the pilot for Flight 190 on June 3, correct?

  GC: I was.

  NR: Was it a typical flight?

  GC: It's a route I've done many times.

  NR: So there was nothing unusual?

  GC: Nope.

  NR: There was no disruption from any of the passengers?

  GC: If there was, no one brought it to my attention. So, no.

  NR: I see. Nothing at the departing gate and nothing at the arrival?

  GC: Well, there was one thing, I guess.

  NR: What's that?

  GC: Well, I hesitate to even bring it up. I think it was just me, after a long flight. You know, you get so

  connected to the plane when you're the captain. I've been flying for a long time now and there's very little I haven't seen or done inside an airplane. When we landed in Chicago and pulled up to the gate, while I was waiting for the ramp to get pulled up, I thought I felt something strange with the airplane. It was just for a second, a kind of vibration. I thought maybe the ground crew had hit the plane with the ramp and I was angry about it. That could damage the plane and we'd get delayed. When I looked out the window, though, the ramp was in place and the side of the plane was just fine.

  NR: Was it the cargo hold opening?

  GC: Well, that feels a bit different. This was something else. I can't really describe it any further except

  that it was a kind of vibration.

  NR: I see. Other than the vibration, was there anything odd about the passengers or flight that you can

  recall?

  GC: Nope. Nothing. Sorry, as I said, not much help.

  NR: Thank you, Captain Culp. I appreciate your time.

  END OF INTERVIEW

  ***

  Transcript of Interview

  Date: June 16, 2014

  Time: 12:15 a.m. CST

  Person interviewed: Charlette Ridgeway of D.V.S. Corporation

  Interviewer: Noble Randall of I.C.E. on behalf of Homeland Security

  Subject: Strange occurrences on June 3, 2014, Chicago O'Hare Airport International Terminal.

  Noble Randle (NR): Thank you for your time, Ms. Ridgeway. I know you must be busy, so I appreciate

  you taking the time to talk with me.

  Charlette Ridgeway (CR): It's not a problem. It's not often that I get a call from Homeland Security,

  though.

  NR: Technically I'm with I.C.E., but we're close enough. So, you are Charlette Ridgeway from

  Calabassas, California, and you are a sales rep for the D.V.S. Corporation. What kind of things do you sell?

  CR: Pharmaceuticals.

  NR: Nice. I hear that's good money.

  CR: It's done me well.

  NR: And you were on Flight 190 on June 3?

  CR: I was.

  NR: You sat in first class, correct?

  CR: Yes.

  NR: Did you see anything suspicious during that flight?

  CR: During? No. The flight was very normal when we boarded and very normal when we flew. I fell

  asleep for most of it.

  NR: There was no one suspicious on that flight?

  CR: No.

  NR: You said that there was nothing odd before and during, was there something odd that happened after

  you landed?

  CR: Well, sort of. I mean, I woke up and I was a little sleepy and we had just landed. I started to wake up

  and get my things, so I had my head down because I had stuffed my briefcase under the seat in front of me. When I sat back up there was a bright flash of light. I thought it was just a head-rush, you know? Anyway, when I looked to my right there was this man in the aisle that I swear had not been there a minute before that. I mean, I must have just been still half-asleep or something, right?

  NR: Did he look like this?

  CR: Why, yes. That's him. I could swear he wasn't in first class when we took off, but I didn't pay close

  enough attention to be sure and, well, as I mentioned, I was asleep for much of it.

  NR: You didn't speak to him?

  CR: No. We never said a word to each other. I did walk next to him as we walked down the ramp and to

  customs. I had another plane to catch, though, so I was more worried about making my connection than paying attention to him. I must have got ahead of him in the customs line. I lost track of him and never saw him again.

  NR: You weren't aware of anything odd happening at customs in connection with this man?

  CR: No.

  NR: He didn't do anything strange that you saw?

  CR: No.

  NR: OK, thank you for your time, Ms. Ridgeway. I appreciate it.

  END OF INTERVIEW

  ***

  It was early afternoon and Noble pulled up in front of the small home belonging to one Charles Whitlock. It was a tiny place with a huge backyard, but it was pleasant enough, at the end of the dead-end street. There were kids running around in backyards and front yards, making noise and looking like something out of an ideal photo of life in America. Across from Charles' home was a neighbor mowing the lawn. Noble parked the car and got out and nodded at the neighbor with the lawnmower.

  "Afternoon," Noble said.

  The neighbor nodded at Noble and eyed him suspiciously, his head down and cocked to the side a bit. Then he kept mowing his lawn, probably forgetting all about him a moment later.

  Noble looked around, biting his lower lip. This was not normally his kind of thing. He did interviews in interrogation rooms. He did not spend much time knocking on doors in the field. He had tried, again and again, to call Charles Whitlock, but the phone just rang and rang.

  Noble walked around his car and up the driveway. There was a chain link fence around the backyard and a gate across the top of the driveway. There was a garage at the end of the driveway with a white door. Noble could see lots of grass in the backyard, and that yard stretched out of sight and behind the garage.

  Noble stepped slowly up the walkway, under a big spreading tree. He stepped over some puddles from what looked like a sprinkler that had been left on all night. The grass was soaked and there was mud beneath the tree. He walked up the three short steps to the door, opened the screen door and knocked. He heard nothing from inside the house and heard only the kids from down the block running through the sprinklers.

  Noble knocked again. "Mr. Whitlock!" He called. "Mr. Whitlock! It's Noble Randle from Homeland. I need to speak with you."

  There was nothing from within the house. Noble looked around. The neighbor across the way was busy mowing his lawn and not looking at him
anymore. The kids were completely occupied with getting themselves soaked.

  Noble reached out and tried the door knob.

  It turned easily and the door swung in, creaking slightly on the hinges. Noble took one more look around. The neighbor was still mowing and not looking. No other faces were staring at him.

  He stepped into the living room.

  Brown carpet. Small space with paneling on the walls. A television and entertainment center up against the main front-facing window. There was a sofa against the wall and a low wooden coffee table. A black bookshelf was against another wall and two reclining chairs against another wall. It was very clean, although it smelled slightly of cigarette smoke.

  There was a clock ticking somewhere, but the house was quiet. Nothing creaked. Nothing moved.

  To the right, through a doorway, was a tiled floor. Just inside the door was a dining room table with four chairs and another big window along the wall. That led right into the kitchen. White countertops, old appliances, but very clean. The door leading out into the backyard was just past the counters. There was a door at the far end that was either a close or perhaps the top of the stairs down into the basement.

  Clean. Clear. No one. Nothing.

  Just past the kitchen was another doorway and a short hallway that went right and left. Straight ahead was a doorway that led into a small bathroom. To the right was one bedroom that Whitlock had turned into an office. There was a computer and a desk just inside the door and lots of bookshelves lined with all kinds of books along the walls.

  To the left was another bedroom. This one had a large queen-sized bed and a closet. There was another, smaller, entertainment center and flat-screen TV.

  Also very neat.

  Empty.

  Noble sighed. So far he had entered a home without cause, breaking the law, to find absolutely nothing of substance. He stood in the kitchen with his hands on his hips and wondered where to go next. Did he check the basement or head into the backyard? He scanned the kitchen and when he reached the fridge, he froze.

  The fridge was stainless steel. On the door was a notepad attached via magnet. There was a ballpoint pen attached to the notepad. There was something written on the notepad.

  Dr. Lance Shaw.

  Noble stepped closer, bending low to get a really good look at the scrawling handwriting. It was definitely that name written in black ink as plain as day. As Noble stepped forward something squished beneath his shoe.