048 The Trap
Fiction in 998 words by T. Edward Westen, 2017
Outreach Agent Simmons placed the hologram receiver/projector three meters from where the hologram receiver/projector that the man with a goatee had already placed in the room. Looking around Room 126 of The Do Drop Inn, the outreach Agent decided to place the remotely controlled Nano-time pill dispenser on the floor at the foot of the bed. He thought, ‘since they are now more like ball bearings we are going to have to find a more descriptive and simpler name for these things.’ Moving to the dresser on which the television screen sat, he placed a video transmitter device. ‘This will give me full room coverage,’ he thought. Standing in one spot, Outreach Agent Simmons slowly turned and inspected the room one more time before he pivoted.
Materializing in Edith Gunderson’s office, Outreach Agent Simmons announced, “I do believe we are ready for him.” Pointing to Agent White, he said, “When your hologram comes up, it will be facing Scarface hologram at a distance of three meters. The window will be at his holograms back. The subject will come in on your right. There is one chair. Scarface is two meters from that chair. It would be natural for the recruit to sit there. Your hologram transmitter is in the next room, 124. Remember to check the strength and keep it below 2. Any questions?”
Agent White shook her head no and said, “I understand a 2 keeps me from interfering with the directional signal finders you and Special Agent Fleishman will be operating.”
Outreach Agent Simmons said, “Yes, now go. You can and watch the feed from the next room in the motel on the video transmitter. You pick your time to activate your hologram.
Agent White nodded and pivoted.
Special Agent Fleishman turned to Detective Philipson, Captain Batan, and Edith Gunderson and said, “I suspect it will be over within the hour. We’ll bring Scarface in so we can decide when to prosecute him.” Then turning to Outreach Agent Simmons said, “Well, Jonathan, I will pivot to you as soon as I have a 99% confirmed plot and we will go in together.”
Outreach Agent Simmons nodded and said, “Tally Ho.” Both men vanished.
Edith Gunderson said, “I would guess he reads a lot of historical fiction.”
“Or he has been there” wryly commented Captain Batan.
The door to Room 126 of the Do Drop Inn opened
and Frank Millard entered. Frank switched on the television and sat in the only chair in the room. Since the chair was at an awkward angle to view the television, he got up and turned the chair, sat back down and appeared to get comfortable. Every few minutes he checked his wrist watch. After the third time, he checked his wrist watch, he got up walked to the door and exited the room leaving the television on. After a few minutes, he returned to the room holding a coffee in a paper cup. He sat down and sipped at his coffee while surfing the channels. Periodically he checked his wristwatch. Finishing his coffee, he switched off the television, stood up and headed for the door. As he reached for the doorknob a voice from behind him said, “You appear not to be a patient man.”
Turning Frank Millard said, “Your say I am not patient, yet,” looking at his wristwatch, “you are 35 minutes late. I have better things to do than wait.”
“Name one,” said the man with a goatee and a scar over his left eye. “Especially since you answered my job opening notice in the Enquired, Mr. Millard.”
“To you, this is an employment interview. To me it is a chance to write a story for the paper,” replied Frank Millard.
“If you are not interviewing for my opening, why should I bother to talk to you?” asked the man in the goatee.
“So far, I have a story about a job interview with a man who can get into a motel room without using the door or window, unless you were hiding under the bed,” Said Frank Millard picking up the bed’s covering to display a solid frame to the floor. He turned, pulled out his cell phone and snapped a photo. “And,” he continued, “I have a photograph of you. So, the question is should I go to the police about this or would you be willing to answer a few questions to give me, so to speak,y our side of the story.”
“Have a seat and ask your questions,” said the man in the goatee with a scar over his left eye.
Frank Millard sat, pulled out a notebook and said, “Let’s start with your name.”
“My associates in the past have called me ‘The Man,’” replied the man with a goatee and a scar over his right eye. He held his hand up to indicate he was going to say more. “I have never had to give a name. However, I shall make an exception for you. Call me, John Smith.”
“OK, so no name it is,” replied Frank Millard. “The reason I responded to your advertisement is it appeared to suggest activities that shall we say are things one would not want law enforcement to notice.”
“I think that one might characterize the position as one of adventures and travel, and . . . .” but the man in the goatee was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Agent White’s hologram.
“You might explain to the reporter the part you played in the bodies appearing on 38th street,” stated Agent White, “or the kidnapping of Becky, or the. . .
“Ah, Agent White, so good of you to drop by,” said the newly named John Smith. “I take it you are not really here.”
“No more than you, Sir,” replied Agent White.
“So, you copied my holograph system,” replied John Smith. “I go those from your era, but the way, Wait, who are you, what do you want?” John Smith’s hologram ceased to play in Room 126 of the Do Drop Inn Motel.