Christa Faust - Fringe The Zodiac Paradox

“Listen, Nina,” Bell intervened, that warm, resonant voice of his pitched low and soothing. “We’re just on edge because time is slipping away, and we still don’t have a plan to stop this terrible thing from happening. I wouldn’t have come to you if I didn’t think you were smart, capable, and open-minded. We need you.”

“I never said I wasn’t going to help you,” she said, turning her face away from Bell, even though it was obvious from her body language that she was softening up to him. “I just said I needed a minute to wrap my brain around what you’re telling me.”

“Fair enough,” Bell said.

“Okay,” she said, staring at the tip of her unsmoked cigarette for a drawn out moment. “For starters, do you remember the number or route of the bus?”

Walter looked up at the tin ceiling as if the answer might be found in its swirls and flourishes.

“It’s been so long,” he said. “Some details seem so vivid, and others have blurred and faded in the passing years.”

“Was it 4?” Bell suggested.

Walter frowned, still focused on the ceiling.

“Yes, no... 44, maybe. And something starting with the letter P.”

“You said the shooter was in a warehouse, right?” Nina asked.

“That’s right,” Walter replied.

“The 144 runs down Parkdale through an industrial neighborhood,” Nina said.

“Yes!” Walter nearly leapt out of the chair, restraining himself at the last second. “Yes, that’s it. 144 Parkdale!” He grabbed the telephone receiver, causing the base to tumble into his lap, cord tangling around his wrist. “We need to call the transit authority right away, tell them to suspend all bus service immediately!”

Nina stood and gently took the phone from his hands.

“It’s 3:15 in the morning, Walter,” she said. “There won’t be anyone in the office.”

“Right,” he said, struggling to compose himself. “Right, of course.” He paused, and then looked up at her. “So what do we do? Wait until morning to make the call?”

“Look how well things went the last time you tried to tell someone the truth about your vision,” Nina said.

“But what should we do?” Walter asked. “We have to do something!”

“We could fake a threatening letter,” Bell said. “We have enough of the Zodiac’s letters in the file from Iverson, it shouldn’t be hard to mimic his handwriting and syntactic style.”

“Ah, right. The file!” Walter patted his stomach, then extracted the file from the waistband of his trousers. “I’d forgotten all about it. I was wondering why I’ve been feeling so uncomfortable when I sit down.”

“Perfect,” Bell said. “Even if our letter is eventually discovered to be a fake, they’d still cancel the bus service alone that line, wouldn’t they? Just to be on the safe side?”

“But it’s too late to post a letter,” Nina said. “It wouldn’t arrive in time.”

“Maybe we should go in to the office first thing in the morning,” Bell suggested. “Say that we received a threatening phone call.”

“I think it would be best if you two stayed off the radar for a while.” Nina smoked, thoughtful for a moment. “We don’t want to tip off Latimer and his spooks.”

Walter looked down at the file in his hand. One of the letters was poking out of the top, the Zodiac’s handwritten salutation. Dear Special Agent Iverson...

“Do you think Special Agent Iverson is alright?” he asked, thinking of how the man had put himself at risk to allow Walter and Bell to get away.

“No way of knowing,” Bell said. “But he would want us to stop this senseless tragedy before it occurs.”

“Look,” Nina said. “I think we should forget the transit office and trying to get authorities involved.” She crushed her cigarette into a pristine glass ashtray on her bedside table. “We have to find the location where the shooting will occur, and intercept the bastard before he gets his chance.”

“She’s right,” Bell said. “It’s really our only option.”

Walter found himself remembering that terrible glimpse into the Zodiac’s mind and shuddered. They were dealing with a disturbed and dangerous person—if he could even be defined as a person at all, and not an unknown kind of being from some far-flung region of the universe. It was perfectly sensible to be afraid. After all, they were scientists, not Green Berets.

But just as vivid in Walter’s memory was the questioning look in Linda’s grandma’s dark eyes, seconds before her life would be brought to a brutal, pointless end. Gunned down in the street by someone or something that wouldn’t even be here in the first place if Walter and Bell didn’t open up that mysterious door and invite him, Dracula-like, into this world.

“Okay,” Walter said, not without trepidation, but willing to do whatever it took. “You’re right.”

“You said you saw a bar in your vision,” Nina said. “Do you remember the name?”

Walter could see the woman and her red coat and her book so clearly, but the bar had faded to fragments.

“Night something?” Walter said.

“Eddie’s,” Bell said. “I thought it was Eddie’s.”

“But I’m sure the word night was in there.”

“Hang on,” Nina said.

She padded barefoot over to a small filing cabinet beside her desk and extracted a copy of the yellow pages. She laid it out on the desk, flipping to the listing for bars.

“Big Eddie’s?” she asked, tracing the listings with a perfect oval fingernail.

“I don’t think so,” Walter said, feeling increasingly unsure. “I’m almost sure it was Night something.”

She turned the page and there it was. Just a cheap, basic listing with no fancy extras. Telephone and address.

“Eddie’s All-Niter?” Nina asked.

“That’s it!” Walter said.

“Yes!” Bell said. “That’s the one!”

“Okay,” she said, tracing the address. “It’s 1315 Parkdale, that’s right on the 144 line. That’s got to be it.”

“We should go there right now!” Walter sprang up, file sliding off his lap and spilling the Zodiac’s madness across the floor.

A photo of one of the dead women landed face up between Nina’s feet. She bent to pick it up, and rather than looking girlishly squeamish or frightened, her blue eyes narrowed and hardened.

“Jesus,” she said.

“Listen,” Bell said, kneeling down and gathering up the scattered letters and ciphers, “we’ve been up and running all night. I don’t know about you, Walter, but I need to rest, just for an hour or two. We can’t be going off half-cocked or half-conscious.”

“It’s okay,” Nina said, handing Walter a bus schedule. “The first bus on that route doesn’t leave the garage until 7 am and will take at least forty minutes to reach that section of Parkdale. Never mind the fact that transit busses are almost always late. Meanwhile, William is right. We could all use some rest.”

“If you insist,” Walter said. “But I’m far too wound up to sleep.” He took the gathered papers Bell offered him. “If it’s all the same to you, I’ll just look over these letters until it’s time to leave.”

“Fair enough,” Bell said, handing the file folder to Walter but looking over at Nina. “But go look at them downstairs so we can get some rest.”

Nina flashed Bell a challenging smile.

“There’s blankets and pillows in the hall closet,” she said, slinking over to her bedroom door and holding it open. “You boys are welcome to any couch that doesn’t already have someone sleeping on it. I’ll set an alarm and be down to wake you up at sunrise.”

“Oh,” Bell said, hesitating for a moment. “Well, alright then.”