S Huang - Zero Sum Game

“Check him,” I directed Tresting.

He came forward and patted down the man quickly and efficiently, finding a mobile phone in his pocket and a Glock in a shoulder holster. Glocks. Why did everyone like Glocks?

“Please,” broke in Leena Kingsley, “What’s going on?”

Tresting stepped over to her. “I was targeted,” he said in a low aside. “Worried about you and Ned now. He at school still?”

“Ye—yes.” Kingsley inched closer to Tresting, her posture tense as she regarded my tableau with Finch. “You think he isn’t who he says?”

“Possible,” said Tresting neutrally, looking at me.

“I assure you, I am with the Federal Bureau of Investigation,” Finch repeated, much more tranquil than I wanted him to be. “Now if you’ll put down the weapon, I’m sure we can sort this out.”

“Courtney Polk,” I cut in. “Skinny kid, frizzy hair. What do you know about her?”

“Nothing,” said Finch, with a poker face I would have killed for.

I smiled slowly. “Oh, see? You just lied to me. That’s a bad idea.”

“I’m not lying,” said Finch guilelessly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Miss Polk killed this woman’s husband,” Tresting said, tilting his head at Leena. “You got any information at all about her, this ain’t the time to withhold it.”

“That’s true,” I said. “You don’t have to worry about me making holes in you; Dr. Kingsley’ll put your head through a wall.”

“I, uh…” said Kingsley miserably, and trailed off.

That pinged me as all wrong, considering the firebrand she had been that morning. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Tresting staring at her in confusion. Oddly, so was Finch, with the first sign of apprehension he had shown the whole time.

“Please finish, Dr. Kingsley,” said the would-be FBI agent, his nasally voice suddenly sounding strained.

Her face tensed as if she didn’t like being in the spotlight. “I was going to call you,” she said to Tresting.

He reached out and touched her elbow, steadying her. “About what?”

She started twisting her wedding ring back and forth on her finger. “I…I want to call off the investigation.”

What the…? Dr. Kingsley wouldn’t have given up this investigation voluntarily—

“What’s going on?” asked Tresting gently.

“Nothing,” said Kingsley, shaking him off. “It’s just—I’ve done so much thinking today. I can’t do this anymore.” She drew herself up and turned back to Finch and me. “Whoever you’re with, Agent Finch, if this is about Reginald, it’s done. I’m taking my son and moving back to Washington.”

Agent Finch went white as a sheet.

“Somebody better start explaining fast,” I declared into the silence. When nobody spoke, I waved my gun a little. “Hey. Kingsley. This morning you bit our heads off about this being the most important thing in the world to you. What gives?”

“It was—it is—it still is,” she faltered. “But I think that needs to change. I need…for my son’s sake. For my sake. I can’t keep doing this to us.” She took a deep breath. “This has gone on long enough. We need to rebuild our lives, to move on. I have to try.”

I didn’t buy that for a hot second.

“Dr. Kingsley,” said Finch, very tensely, “May I ask if you’ve had any visitors today?”

Her brow furrowed. “Um…two police officers; they said they’d had another threat. I’ve had a lot of threats since this started,” she explained to nobody. “It’s one of the reasons…”

Tresting crossed his arms. “Doc, the first time you got a death threat you called and asked me what kind of shotgun to buy, and then told me to bug your phone and said you hoped they’d keep calling so they’d give something away.”

“You see? This is why I have to stop this,” she pleaded. “It’s madness. It’s been like an addiction. I can’t—”

“Please,” interrupted Finch. “Did you have any other visitors today?”

“Well, you, I suppose.” She looked at Tresting as if asking for help, but his eyes were pinched, and he said nothing. She waved her hands weakly. “That’s it. No one else.”

“Dr. Kingsley,” said Finch. “This is very important. Can you recount your entire day for me?”

Getting no help from Tresting, Kingsley looked at me. I gave her a slight shrug. It was unnerving that Finch seemed to have taken over completely while still being at gunpoint, but I very much wanted to see where this was going. “My whole day?” she finally repeated.

“You saw these characters this morning, yes?” said Finch, nodding at Tresting and me. “You can start after that.”

She glanced around at the rest of us again, as if wondering when the world had gone mad. “Well, I came home, and then I suppose I took a nap. Then someone was knocking—those police officers—and I spoke to them for a while, and then just as they left, you arrived.”

“Thought you said you did a lot of thinking on all this today,” said Tresting.

Her expression twitched, confusion rumpling her features. “Yes. No. That is, yes, but not—it’s been between everything else.”

“Do you remember lying down to take your nap?” asked Finch.

“Well, yes,” said Kingsley. “I suppose I do…?”

She blinked and looked away from us, her words trailing into silence.

“You keep using the word ‘suppose,’” said Finch after a beat. “Are you not certain, Dr. Kingsley?”

A red flush began creeping up her neck. “I don’t have to answer these questions.”

“Please, Doc,” said Tresting. “Bear with us. Something hinky—”

She straightened her spine, recovering some of her prior imperious fire. “I told you I’m done. I’m sorry, Mr. Tresting, but this mad crusade is over. Leave my house, please. All of you.”

I didn’t know about Tresting, but I wasn’t leaving until I had some answers. And I thought I knew who could give them to me.

I stepped closer to Finch, tilting my Smith & Wesson so the front sight lined up with his forehead, right between the eyes. “You know what’s happening here, don’t you.”

Finch took a breath. “Please take that weapon out of my face.”

I hesitated, then lowered the gun. It wasn’t like I needed it anyway. “Now, what the hell is going on?”

He wet his lips. “Someone got to Dr. Kingsley. That’s all I’m at liberty to say.”

Hell if I was going to let him stop at that. “Someone who?”

“Pithica,” said Tresting.

My hand tightened on the grip of the Smith & Wesson—I itched to have a target again, but who was my enemy? Or what? “I say again,” I addressed the room at large. “What the hell is going on?”

“I interviewed Senator Hammond’s assistant,” said Tresting. “From Kingsley’s, Reginald Kingsley’s, notes. Same thing, almost word for word. Assistant remembered the Senator saying he ‘supposed’ he had a liedown. Except then he about-faced on a nuclear arms treaty.”

“So someone from Pithica is telling her to say this,” I said.

Tresting was watching Dr. Kingsley very closely. “Or something.”

Kingsley drew away from him. “What are you implying?”

Tresting didn’t answer. “What do you say, Agent Finch?”

“Unfortunately, this is need-to-know,” said Finch. “What connection do the two of you have to Dr. Kingsley?”

“Unfortunately, that’s need-to-know,” I parroted back at him, and raised my gun again. “You know something about Polk, and about Pithica, don’t you? You’re going to tell us.”

“This has gone far enough,” said Kingsley. Her voice was firm again, with the strong charisma of authority, and it was hard to believe she didn’t mean it. “Leave, all of you, or I’m calling the police.”