Cody McFadyen - Shadow Man

"No more casualties. Do you hear me, Smoky? No more! "

I take his rage, bend to the storm of it. This is his version of me in the car with Tommy. This is him venting about Joseph Sands. This is him caring. I empathize.

The storm passes, he deflates. A hand comes up to his forehead. I recognize the short struggle. The same one I'd had just moments before. He is the boss. Time to be the boss.

"Let's regroup while we're waiting. Bring me up-to-date."

I fill him in on the arrest of one half of the Jack Jr. duo. I recount the phone call from Elaina, the guy I killed in the parking lot. What happened at Alan's.

"Where's the guy you shot in the hand?"

"He's here," I say. "He's in surgery too. They're trying to reattach his fingers."

"Fuck him," AD Jones snarls.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Bonnie nodding in agreement. It dismays me.

"The other three?" he asks. "All deceased?"

"Yeah."

"By who?"

Who killed them, he means. This will have to be accounted for at some point. Every bullet. "I killed the guy in the parking lot. Elaina shot one of the guys in her house. Alan and Callie killed the other guy, the one with the gun."

AD Jones looks over at Elaina. His eyes have softened. "I'm sorry," he says. Sorry you, a civilian, had to kill a man, he's telling her. She understands.

"Thank you."

"And we think these are all little Jack Jr. proteges?"

"There's not much doubt of that, sir."

"What about the suspect you caught tonight? This is one of them?

For sure?"

"It's not a hundred percent until either he or the evidence says he is, but--yeah . . . it fits."

He nods in approval. "That's good. Real good." He's quiet for a moment, mulling it all over. Looking at each of us. When he speaks again, his voice is softer. "Listen. We're all going to wait here and see if she comes out of this in one piece. We're going to hope she does. When it's over, whether she's fine or not, we're going to go back to work. Get mad first, get sad later."

There are no words of dissent. All I see is a kind of grim resolution. He seems to see it too, because he nods. "Okay, then."

Okeydoke artichoke, I think, another little hysterical bubble making it past my internal force fields. I feel unsteady and sit back down. Someone's cell phone is ringing. Everyone checks, and then I see Tommy putting his to his ear. I'd almost forgotten about him. He is the outsider, and he has pulled away from all of us, settling in to wait.

"Aguilera." He frowns. "Who is this?"

I see a terrible calm come over him. There's nothing relaxed about it, nothing relaxed at all. No, he wants to kill whoever is on the other end of that phone. He looks once at me. "Hang on for a moment."

He walks over to me, holding one hand over the mouthpiece.

"It's him."

I leap out of the hospital seat, followed by almost everyone else. The bubbles are gone, replaced by the bright white light of shock. "What?

You mean Jack Jr.?" I feel as incredulous as I sound.

"Yep. He asked to talk to you."

A zillion different thoughts shoot through my head. This is a complete break in his routine; it doesn't make sense. "Any chance of a trace?" I'm asking Tommy as the resident expert on electronic surveillance.

"If it's not set up already, no."

I'm lost, for just a moment.

AD Jones sighs. "Talk to him, Smoky. Only thing you can do."

I hold out my hand and take the phone. After a single deep breath to steady myself, I put it to my ear. "This is Smoky."

"Special Agent Barrett! How are you?" He's using some kind of electronic device to change and disguise his voice. It sounds like I'm having a conversation with a robot.

"What do you want?"

"I thought, just this once, that we should speak. If not face-to-face, well, phone-to-phone. E-mails and letters are so impersonal, don't you think?"

"I think you've made this very personal, Jack. Plus you're a fucking liar."

He chuckles. The voice alteration makes it sound hideous. "You are talking about my little visitors, aren't you? Well . . . it's true. But it's not a matter of lying. I just got--bored. In many ways, playing my little games with you and yours is as satisfying as my work upon my whores."

I want to hurt him. To do something to break through that arrogant gloating. "Hey, Jack. Did you see my little spot on the news?"

A long silence. When he starts speaking again, I feel a kind of snarling satisfaction as I note that his voice has gone flat. "Yes, Smoky. I saw your lies."

I laugh, a short, mocking bark. "Lies? Why the hell would I lie? You just don't want to own up to it, fucker! That there is no 'legacy,' no Annie Chapman's uterus, no sacred mission. You're the liar, Jack. Your whole life is a lie! Jesus, you can't even follow the Ripper's MO! He killed whores, Jack, not cops. You can't seem to decide which you want more. At least the Ripper picked a victim type and stuck with it! What's the matter, can't face the truth? Can't face just how pathetic you are?"

I hear him breathing, hard, angry. Even this is modified; it sounds surreal.

"You still there, Jack ?"

Another long pause, then--"Nice try, Smoky. Hurrah for you, and applause. Why would you lie? Why, for the simplest reason of all: psychological warfare. To destabilize me." He pauses, and I can almost feel his rage. "I never said I was the Ripper, you silly bitch. I said I am descended from him. But I've evolved. I'm beyond him. Why do I hunt you and yours as much as I hunt the whores? Because I'm that good . Because I feel like it. For the same reason I amuse myself making my little acolytes. Because I can ."

For a moment, just for a moment, I come close to taunting him with the knowledge that we've captured his buddy. I manage to reel this impulse back.

"No, because you're a fuckup, Jack. Evolved? I don't think so. The original Ripper, he never got caught. But I'm going to catch you. Count on it."

A long silence follows. When he starts speaking again, the rage is gone. His voice is calm. Back in control.

"Speaking of the whores--how is little Bonnie?"

I'm fighting for control. I need to keep him talking. I decide to try a different tack. I lower my voice, making it even, reasonable.

"Jack. Why don't we stop pretending? You and I both know who it is you really want, right?"

He pauses. "And who would that be, Special Agent Barrett?"

"Me. You want me."

AD Jones makes cutting motions across his throat. "No! Dammit, Smoky!"

I ignore him. "Am I right?"

He laughs again. "Smoky, Smoky, Smoky . . ." His voice is patronizing. "I want all of it, dear one. I want the whores, and I want you, and I want everyone that you love. Speaking of that--how is dear Callie? Is she going to survive?"

My rage flares up, hot and ready. "Fuck you!"

"You have one day," he says, ignoring my anger. Dismissing it. "And then another whore dies. Oh, and you and yours can expect continued fun as well."

I get the sense that he's about to end the call. "Wait."

"No, I don't think so. I couldn't resist, just this once, but this is a chancy way for us to communicate. For me, that is. Don't expect it to happen again. The next time you hear my voice, it will be in person, and you'll be screaming." A short pause. "One other thing: If Agent Thorne does die, you might want to consider cremating her. Otherwise, I'll be tempted to dig her up and . . . play with her. Just like I've done with sweet Rosa."

He hangs up, leaving his words grating across my bones.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" James asks. The anger in his voice shocks me, and I am dumbfounded at it, here and now, in this place. I look at him and am stunned at the force of the rage I see in his eyes. He's trembling. It's coming off him in waves.