Some Explanations...............

Yesterday was supposed to be rainy, but when I got outside the sun was out. It was a bright, clear day, and warm, the kind of Indian Summery day I hadn't seen in a long time. I felt good. I felt in balance.

Maybe that "in balance" needs some explanation. The one thing transplant recipients and their support staff fear the most is rejection. To prevent that, they're put on anti-rejection medications - which are also classified as immuno-suppressants. I'm on tacrolimus, and it's monitored through periodic blood tests and measured on a numeric scale - the main focus being on the range between 6 and 15. Up around 15, and there's a risk of damage to other organs such as the liver, down around 6 and it's not as effective at preventing rejection. Starting in September, my level bounced back and forth between the two extremes, which required multiple blood tests, and several changes to the dosage. All that is over for now. I am back in balance. I feel good.

I got in the car and headed out on to Rahway Avenue. Up ahead I could see that the light at Freeman Street had turned red so like a lot of other people in my neighborhood I made a quick left on to Martin Terrace (this will let me bypass the light completely). There she was, an older woman heading in my direction. Maybe she came out of Finn Towers, I didn't know. It wasn't important. I looked around. No one.

There was no one else around. No pedestrians, no cars. I had the windows down, and the Flasher on the seat beside me. I had to act quickly, it was a short block. Slowing, I watched her coming on. She was moving diagonally across, probably heading for the sidewalk. We closed the gap. She came up on my driver's side, still in the street. I scanned the area again. Still no one. Point, press, Flash. I sped up quickly and turned the corner onto Ellis Place. Looking in my rear view, there was nothing. No one. Not even a woman crossing the street. I stopped at the sign at Freeman, and made the left. I had some errands to run.

Back in balance and feeling good.

It stayed warm, but the sky did cloud over a few times. I bought some stuff, returned some stuff, and wound up coming back from Edison along Middlesex Avenue (Route 27). I turned right onto Parsonage Road, with the vague thought of going to Roosevelt Park and getting some fresh air and exercise.

I passed through the housing developments, under the train tracks, and came out by the park. There was a woman in a red sweater walking along what I thought was the outside track. I made the right turn onto Oakwood and the next quick right brought me into the park's first parking area. As I drove slowly through I saw parents and their children in the playground, people fishing in the little stream. All thoughts of exercise were gone. My phone chimed. Confirmation Number One.

The road turns in through the retirement home, passed older people on benches, probably watching the younger people in the park and remembering. The road then curves back to Parsonage Road. I could see the woman in the red sweater. She wasn't on a track, but walking along the side of the road at the park's edge, inside the guide rail.

This might get tricky. Parsonage runs uphill, and I could see that side easily, but to my left there's a sharp curve as it dips back under the train tracks. I slowed. My windows were still open. I stopped at the sign. Uphill was clear, and she was getting closer, no one was behind me, but I was unsure of who might pop up from downhill. I was running out of time. She got closer.

I hit the gas, turning quickly onto Parsonage. I took a quick look behind - nothing. Point, press, Flash. I kept going, up to Oakwood again, and stopped at the red light. A couple of cars pulled up behind me. No one was honking horns. No one was yelling. The light turned green, and I made the left and kept going. By the time I'd turned off onto Thornhill, then Gill Lane my phone had chimed again. Confirmation Number Two.

I felt good. I was in balance.

Then Doyle called...................

I was to meet him this morning at Barnes & Noble outside the Menlo Park Mall. I was concerned because his instructions sounded a little "spyish" and besides, he wasn't supposed to be involved with my side of things anymore. Of course, I agreed to meet him.

On the second floor, along the side of the store facing out onto Parsonage Road, there is a gap between the shelves for Fiction and the ones for Graphic Novels. The staff has placed a display of Barnes & Noble Classics here, parallel to the windows. There are 2 chairs between the display and the windows, offering a kind of privacy to anyone sitting there. I picked up a copy of Crime and Punishment and sat down to wait. It wasn't long. Doyle's voice came to me from behind the display.

"Good to see you, Denny. How's it going?"
"What the hell? Are you really gonna hide back there?"
"Sorry. I'm not supposed to be here, but there was something I meant to explain from the last time we met. So just pretend to read your book, and just listen. Don't talk, just nod if I ask anything, OK?"
I nodded.
"Fine. Last time we met - Jeez, must be a month ago, I said it was good that you'd looked a target in the eye. You asked why, and I said I'd explain, but I had to make sure you understood the new changes, so I forgot. With me so far?"
I nodded again, making sure to play my part by turning a page now and then.
"What our Psych people told me was that this was a sign that you'd really bought in to the whole operation. You were now a real part of this. You could target someone, and take them out face to face without any qualms.  These shrinks said that you would have no problems going forward."

He paused. I sat for a while, then, because I thought he might be waiting for it, I nodded.

"You see, I was afraid that the People Upstairs were moving too fast, that you might have second thoughts when they told you what they had planned. I was relieved to see that wasn't gonna happen. I kinda grew fond of you, seeing as how you were my first recruit. I knew you wouldn't let me down."

He said nothing for a few minutes. I turned a few more pages. I probably should have been worried that someone might find us talking like this, but I know Doyle and his precautions pretty well by now.

"OK. Now don't go telling anyone about this little tete-a-tete, OK? I'm not supposed to be here. In fact, I'm in Delaware right now, checking on a possibility. Givings is your handler now. And be careful around her. She was good at taking orders, but I'm not sure how she'll be at giving them, how she'll do setting up this next stage. Watch your back."

He was quiet again. This time for too long. I got up, trying to act casual, and put the book back. I looked around the display case, but Doyle was gone. Figures.

Again, he left me a new set of questions. And a guilty feeling for pretending to read the book in the store. I hate people who do that.

In For a Penny...............

Givings called. This actually happened last week, but it's taken me some time to wrap my head around it. We met at the Menlo Park Mall, outside of Nordstrom's, on the lower level. There are some small cafe tables set up there.

She sat at what one close to the side of the escalators, where there was a semblance of some privacy. She had her back to Nordstrom's and was facing the rest of the mall. I guess she thought I would be coming from that direction, and usually I would considering that Barnes & Noble is in that direction. This time, however, I was running late, so  I parked on the far side and actually came in to her right side. I saw her before she saw me.

She had a haunted look, as if there were something troubling her. She must've felt someone looking as I got nearer, because she turned towards me and lost all expression on her face.

"Mr. O'Neill, please have a seat." All business. "How are you feeling? would you like something to eat or drink?"

She pointed to a small concession stand to the right of Nordstrom's. She had a cup of coffee and a muffin which I guess she'd gotten from there.

"No thanks." I sat. "I'm anxious to get this started. What took so long? I met with Doyle almost 2 weeks ago."
"I know, but this is all my call now. I wanted to make sure you were up to it."
"What do you mean?"
"We monitor your doctor, or didn't Doyle tell you. We knew that your tacrolimus level was elevated, and then you were concerned about you temperature, so we, or rather I, waited until I felt everything was back in sync."
"All right. Thanks, I think. Everything is fine now. Although they don't know what caused the change. Anyway, what's next? Doyle said you were upping the ante."
"Did he explain why?"
"Not really. Just that the People Upstairs were moving forward, wanting to get a 'bigger bang for their buck'."

She lowered her eyes for a minute, picking at her muffin as she gathered her thoughts. She sipped her coffee, then looked up at me.

"That's one way to put it. Lets see, how to explain this?" More coffee, some muffin. "The People Upstairs like the program, but it isn't having a big enough impact. They've decided to approach this problem in two ways - first, they have Doyle setting up similar programs, on a test basis, in neighboring states. How he's going to do this, I don't know. Doyle has moved on, for now. Second is up to me." She paused again, more coffee, but she never took her eyes off me.

I waited her out. I had nothing to say, and no reason to interrupt. I did wish I'd gotten a coffee and something to eat though. I was hungry.

"You read the papers, don't you, Mr. O'Neill? Or at least watch the news on TV?"
"Sure. I like the paper. Why?"
"Recently, we had that mine disaster in Chile. You saw that, of course. How could you miss it. That drew world-wide attention. But how many other disasters happen that are "minor', that don't draw attention outside of their own local area? Do you know?"
I said I didn't.
"Would it surprise you to know that every day, somewhere in the United States - not the rest of the world, just here - somewhere in America there's a local disaster. A fire, an earthquake, an accident, something that only makes the local papers. And in many cases, only for a day or two."
"No. I guess not. I guess random tragedies happen all over."
"Good choice of words, Mr. O'Neill. "Random Tragedies". I like that. I like that because that is what we are going to be testing out."
"What? Are you crazy? I don't understand."
"Easy, Mr. O'Neill. It is really quite simple, as the People Upstairs explained it to me."

"I gotta get some coffee." I got up and went to the concession stand. Anything to calm down. Was I hearing this right? I went back, and sat down. She continued.
"Hear me out, Mr. O'Neill. You've been pretty involved with this program since day one - in fact, you are the program, so far. Let me explain this."
I motioned for her to go on, pretending to sip at my coffee.
"The People Upstairs want to expand on what you've been doing. You see, one at a time, or in your case, three at a time, is a very small impact. They want to increase that, and at the same time, not expose themselves unnecessarily. So they have decided to use these "Random Tragedies" to their own advantage. You have to admit that there is always some loss of life in these events. They believe that they can orchestrate, over a period of time of course, several events in several different areas, that will up the victim count substantially. Do you see?"
I said nothing, at first. I tried to find a flaw in this argument, although I admit I didn't try that hard. It was appalling, yet fascinating at the same time. Finally, I had to respond.
"I get it. I understand what they're saying, but is it possible? Can it be done without being caught?"
"That's where we come in. I have been given the assignment to plan and execute, if you'll pardon the word play, a "Random Tragedy", and they want you to be the one to set it in motion."
"Why me?"
"Because you are already in the field, and we're going to do it here in your back yard, as it were. In fact, we intend to do several, over the next month or two, so we can see if there's any change in how the news media covers them. We're betting that they don't go beyond local."
"What happens then?"
"If the news stays local, we expand to other states. Hopefully, Doyle will have others like you in place. If the News goes national, we stop and reconsider."

She stopped. She was giving me time. She finished her muffin and coffee. I did too.

"Are you in, Mr. O'Neill?"
"You know I am. You wouldn't have told me if you didn't know that I'd do it."
"Of course. Just going through the formalities"
"What happens now?"
"We are finishing preparations for the first target. Once the People Upstairs approve the plan, you will be brought on board. That should take about another week. In the meantime, you still have the Flasher, so feel free to continue using it."
She got up to leave.

"Can I know what, or where, the first target will be?"
"I don't see why not." She walked over to a waste basket and through out her wrappings. She came back. "The first target is the Adam's Towers building a few blocks from your apartment." She walked away.

I knew the building. It was housing for the aged and disabled.

In for a penny...............