NO GOOD DEED (11 page)

Sweat ran in rivulets down his face, the itching causing its own torment. He wiped his cheek against his arm, then left his head there, blocking out the bright lights.

In a small town outside Kabul, he had witnessed a woman being beaten by a crowd. He’d wanted to rush over to help, but Mo had stopped him with the warning that the crowd would turn on them if they did anything. It was the custom there, and there wasn’t anything they could do. Horrified, Mark had turned away, but not before using his long lens to get some shots of the atrocity.

That night, Mo had gone off alone, telling Mark he was just going to visit some old friends. Mark hadn’t felt like socializing after seeing the scene in the town square and had been happy that Mo had dropped him off at the hotel in Kabul. What if Mo’s visiting had been something more sinister? Mark groaned with both physical and mental anguish. How could he prove that he had been at the hotel and not off hatching plans with Mo and the bad guys?

The door to the room opened and Mark tried not to look at the men as they filed in, not wanting them to see his weakness, but he couldn’t help stealing a glance, despite his best efforts to refrain. He hoped that someone would release him now—before he began to moan. It took all his willpower to remain silent. Bill had a bag from a fast food restaurant. The scent wafted to Mark and his mouth instantly flooded. He swallowed and tried to ignore the smell. His back spasmed again and the tantalizing aroma was forgotten as he gasped and writhed.

Jim, his hands in his pockets, stood beside Mark. “Ready to talk?”

Mark panted, “Yes, sir.” Whatever it took to end this. He could tell them about Mo going off alone that night. It was all he had. He prayed it was enough. Had Mo been put through this kind of interrogation? Is that how they had acquired information on Mark? If it was, he almost couldn’t blame his old friend for lying.

The guard unclipped Mark’s wrists from his ankles and, with the release, Mark sagged onto his back, gasping. The relief was immediate, but not complete. His muscles still quivered and jumped, and he was surprised that they allowed him a moment to compose himself. He gulped air, every breath drying out his mouth. He must have sweated a gallon.

Jim stepped back and began a slow circle around him, making him nervous. Mark was the carrion, Jim, the vulture.

Mark bit back a groan as he sat up and the guards helped him to his feet where he swayed for a moment. He felt like he had just run a marathon. The smell of French fries made his stomach rumble.

“Well, let’s hear it.” Jim had come around to stand in front of him.

“One night, Mo went off by himself to meet old friends.” Mark paused to catch another breath and to stall, trying to make the thin bit of information sound more important than it was. He slanted a glance at Jim. “Maybe he planned something that night?” It sounded lame even to him. Mark saw a flash of anger on Jim’s face. Ice rattled as Bill swished his drink, before setting it down. A drop of condensation raced down the side and pooled on the table. Mark licked his lips and tore his eyes away from the sight. No use adding to his own torture.

“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to tell us?” Jim shook his head and turned away as if thoroughly disgusted with Mark.

Mark bowed his head. He should have gone with Mo that night. At least then he would have something to tell Jim now. Paper crinkled and Mark looked up to see Bill unwrapping a burger. Lettuce and tomato peeked out from under the bun. The scent made his mouth water.

Jim came back to Mark, his arms crossed. “I’m disappointed. Here I thought you had something useful.” He sighed.

Bill opened a pack of ketchup and squirted it into a pile on the wrapping. Mark watched him dip a fry and then pop it into his mouth. Jim said something and Mark pulled his attention back to him. At least he tried to, but when Bill lifted the burger and took a bite, his eyes darted back to watch the man sink his teeth into it. Mark could almost taste the cool lettuce, the crisp tomato and the tangy mayonnaise.

“Am I boring you?” Jim’s voice was low and held a note of danger.

Mark snapped his gaze back to him. “No, sir.”

“We’ve tried to give you a break. Did you notice the extra food? The time outside? Those perks don’t come for free. Now you have to pay for them. You have to give up some information. Some
real
information.”

The comment was straight out of his dream. Somehow, even without the camera, his dream was going to come true. Mark locked his knees to keep from sinking to the floor. They insisted he give up something he didn’t have to give.

* * *

Jessie strapped her shoulder holster on before slipping her arms into her jacket. The pictures from Mark’s camera lay on her dresser, and she picked one up. She had already shown her sister the ones from the recital and just said that the group shots hadn’t turned out. It was true, so she didn’t feel guilty and there was no need to mention these images.

She tucked the two of Mark into her purse along with the negatives. There was a camera shop on her way to work and she planned to talk to them during lunch, if she had a chance. If nothing else, she wanted to enlarge the photos. There might be something in them that would clue her in to when they had been taken. The negative listed them as the twenty-third and twenty-fourth frames, but that couldn’t be right. They had to have been on the film and she had just used up the rest photographing the recital. The frame counter had said zero, but it was an old camera. She hoped the person at the camera store could tell her something about it.

The morning dragged and Jessie kept glancing at the clock. It was a beautiful day. School had just let out for the summer and, she heard children playing at the park across the street. The clock inched towards noon, and Jessie pulled the photos out of her purse to take another look. Even though she had studied them a dozen times already, she hoped each time that something would turn up and show that the pics were only from a costume party or even some kinky sexual thing. She felt her face heat up and glanced at Dan at the other desk, hoping he didn’t notice. She shouldn’t have looked because he caught her eye.

“What do you have there?” He rolled his chair across the gap between them.

Jessie turned the photos face down and bent to get her purse. “Oh, nothing, just some photos I...found.”

“Yeah? So why are you hiding them?” Dan grinned and made a ‘give me’ gesture. “Come on, show me.”

Jessie sighed and ran a hand through her hair, letting the strands settle. “Okay, but I’m warning you, they aren’t easy to look at.”

Dan’s grin faltered and he hesitated as his hand closed over the photos. With a questioning glance at Jessie, he flipped the pictures over. The first was the one of Mark seated on the floor, his knees bent and shoulders pulled forward at a painful angle. If Dan knew who it was, he didn’t let on, he just studied the photo for a minute before moving onto the second one. His eyes widened and then he shook his head, his mouth set in a hard line. “Where’d you get these?”

Jessie shrugged. “I used one of Mark’s cameras to take pictures at my niece’s recital Saturday. Remember I told you about how he had been evicted and everything was on the lawn? The camera was in with his stuff. When I picked the photos up yesterday, those two were in with the pictures of the little girls dancing.”

“You think these were taken before he...before he was arrested?” Dan rarely spoke of Mark now.There was no reason to, since the guy wasn’t always intruding in their cases, but once he had called Mark a poor bastard. It had been said with regret, like he knew something, but he had never elaborated.

Leaning over to see the photos again, she shook her head. “It makes sense. I mean, obviously, I didn’t take them, but according to the negatives, these were the last two on the roll of film.” Jessie sat back and pulled the envelope with the negatives out of her purse. “See?”

“That’s weird.” Dan skimmed through the negatives. “Maybe they cut them wrong?”

“Could be. I’m heading to a camera shop in a few minutes to see if they can tell me anything.” She stood and held her hand out. “But, even if the images were on the film before I used the camera, what are they pictures of? Who is making him do that?”

Dan handed her the pictures and she traced a finger over Mark’s pain-glazed eyes in the second photo. “Look at this, his hands are still shackled and it looks like he can’t even raise them high enough to get proper leverage.”

“It’s a stress position.” Dan rolled his chair back and stood, grabbing his jacket off the back. “I’d like to come with you, if you don’t mind.”

Jessie pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sure, but what’s a stress position?”

“Just what it sounds like. It’s a form of persuasion used by some governments to get prisoners to give up information.” Dan angled his head towards the door. “Come on. I’m curious now. Maybe someone planted those pictures in the packet somehow.”

Jessie went ahead of him down the hallway. “What if they weren’t planted?” So far, she had refused to consider the story Mark had told her after his initial arrest. That was crazy. She could only surmise that he’d been desperate to concoct something that outlandish. That was the only logical explanation.

* * *

“Wow, that’s wild.” The guy examined the negatives and pictures. “These negatives definitely came off the same roll of film. They were processed together, all the cuts on the film strips line up. They physically came from the same roll of film, and see where the film winds around the take-up spool in the camera?” He pointed to the square holes at the bottom of the negatives and continued, “Every fifth one has a tiny notch in it. The notch is on the second picture as well as the ones from the recital. I bet if I look at the camera you took the pictures with, I’ll find a small defect on one of the teeth that pulls the film through the camera.”

“I have the camera right here.” Jessie dug into her purse and handed the young man Mark’s camera. She noted his name tag. Gary.

Gary’s eyes lit up. “Cool. I’m not sure of the make, but it’s old. Very old.” He turned the camera this way and that, skimming his fingers over the textured body. “It’s in good condition too. It was probably one of the first thirty-five millimeter still cameras.” Beaming, he opened the back. “Yep, there’s a tiny flaw in one of the teeth on the wheel. See the sliver of metal sticking out?” The young man laid the strips of film out on the counter in order. “Right here.” He tapped the edges of the strips as he kept a silent count. “The notch is on every fifth negative and this negative falls exactly in sequence. These photos definitely came off the end of this roll of film.”

Jessie and Dan leaned across the counter. There was no doubt. Jessie straightened and caught Dan’s eye. Now what? He shrugged.

“Where’d you get the camera anyway?” Gary asked, then bent to get something beneath the counter.

“It’s not mine. It belongs to a...friend of mine.” Jessie ignored Dan, knowing that if she looked at him now, he would be grinning at her.

“Oh. Well, I can’t tell you how those bizarre photos got on your film, but I have another roll of film here. You could try it out and see what happens. In all likelihood, it was just some crazy glitch.”

Nodding, Jessie pulled some cash from her wallet. “I think I’ll do that. Meanwhile, would it be possible to get those two photos blown up to eight by tens?”

Gary made a face. “Sure, that’s no problem, but what in the world for?”

Dan leaned an elbow on the counter and smiled. “It’s police business. You understand.”

Gary’s eyes rounded. “Oh.” He rang up the film, his demeanor more subdued. “I’ll get right to work on those enlargements. Should be ready by tomorrow.”

Jessie smiled. “That would be great, Gary.”

* * *

Jessie picked up the enlargements the next day on her lunch hour. She waited until she was back in the office to open the envelope. Bracing herself, she sat and pulled the pictures out. The larger pictures showed more detail. Mark’s face was bathed in sweat, and his hands looked swollen in the cuffs. In the second picture, she saw the muscles in his arms bunched. He appeared thinner than she remembered, and his orange t-shirt was plastered to his body. Across the back, was a stenciled number. It was prison issue. That much was obvious. But which prison? Booted feet in the corner had camouflage pants tucked into the top. That meant military.

Dan entered, a bag in his hands. “Want a burger? I figured you wouldn’t have time to get one, so I got an extra.”

She tried to smile, but didn’t quite manage one. “Sure. That sounds good. Thanks.”

He handed her the burger and wordlessly took the pictures from her. After a long moment, he sighed. “It’s not any easier looking at them like this, is it?” Dropping the pictures on her desk, he returned to his own and began eating his lunch.

She took a deep breath. “No. Harder in fact.” As difficult as it was to look at the pictures, it was time to think logically. The pictures looked real, but where had they come from? How had they ended up in the camera? She had just happened upon Mark’s stuff tossed onto the lawn of his building. Then had happened to use the camera for the recital and happened to use the photo store near her work. How could anyone have planned an elaborate scheme to plant the photos with the prior set of chance circumstances?

Jessie unwrapped the burger. The photos of Mark had been on the end of the roll. How had a man who had been gone for months wind up on the end of a roll of pictures that should have been faces of giggling little girls wearing tutus? If it was a con, it was insanely complex. Who would go to that much trouble and why?

Dan didn’t know what Mark had told her about dreams and pictures predicting the attacks on nine-eleven. It had been hard enough telling anyone that Mark had been arrested as a terrorist; there had been no need to add lunatic to the list, but what if pictures like these were what Mark had experienced?

“When I went to see Mark that last time, he told me something.”