Milwaukee Deep

“I’m sorry I’m late Anthony – it won’t happen again,” said Sam as he sat down amid the other agents in the briefing room.

Anthony Perks looked down at his man. He didn’t say a word. He waited until Sam was seated.

“I’ll continue,” Perks’ focus was back on the other six members of his team, “The Willow case is not going as I had planned, gentlemen - things are not looking good. New York’s finest located one of her shoes, a red stiletto, early this morning in Central Park west. Now the shoe is with forensics as we speak and obviously they’ll try to uncover anything they can that can help lead us to her location, but what we’ve been thinking all along has come to fruition. And now we need to ramp up our operation.”

Perks turned to a map of Manhattan that hung on the wall behind him. Black pins marked out the area where Hillary Willow lived and where she was last seen. There was a large black circle around the area in which her shoe was found. Next to the map was a picture of Hillary Willow, a pretty, college age girl, smiling demurely for the camera.

“All indications lead us to believe that she left the nightclub at around 3.00am last Sunday morning. As you can see her residence is nowhere near Central Park, so we must assume she was led, even forced into the park that night.”

Perks ran his fingers through his hair and scratched the back of his head.

“Listen guys, it’s been 72 hours since Ms Willow went missing – I don’t like it when we hit 72 hours, especially with this case. Garry, Burns, you two head down to the lab and see what we can get on that shoe. Myles, organise a team to scan Central Park again. I’m going to try to hold back the dive crew having a look at the lakes inside the park – I don’t want to go down that path just yet. NYPD have offered all assistance guys, so let’s use them.”

Perks paused. He looked around the briefing room at his agents.

“Look guys, I know you all know who Hillary Willow is, but when the Secretary of Defence asks me personally to find his daughter, well you can just imagine the strain it puts on me and more importantly, on this department. Now I’m not going to stress to you again the importance of finding her, but let me add this, the whole nation is looking at us right now, how we do this and how this pans out will reflect on us for a long time. Now let’s get out there and do what we do best. Dismissed.”

The group stood up, not a word spoken - they all knew the importance of finding Hillary Willow alive and well. Perks made his way over to Sam as everyone else began to exit the briefing room.

“Sam, you got a minute?”

Sam turned around.

“Listen, Anthony if this is about being late, I’m really sorry.”

“No, don’t worry about that. I need you to do something for me.”

“Sure, what is it?”

“We got a call from a Sheriff Patterson down in Florida. He says he has a missing person’s case that we ought to look at.”

“Florida?”

“I don’t know what it’s about. Given all our resources are tied up with this mess and given you’ve got connections with Miami PD I thought I could count on you to follow this up. Can you give him a call?” Perks handed Sam the briefing sheet, “His number’s on the bottom of the page.”

Sam took the briefing sheet.

“No problem. I’ll call him as soon as I get back to my desk.”

“Good and when you’re done with that, team up with Myles at Central Park and give him a hand.”

There was a slight, awkward silence.

Sam had to ask.

“Anthony, do you think we’ll find her?”

Perks paused for a moment.

“For our sake, we’d better.”

“What the fuck do you mean, one’s missing?”

“That’s what the message says, General.”

Tom Harding looked at General Mcafee. The General stood in the hallway staring back at the guy who had just told him that his whole world was crashing down around him.

“How in the hell do you escape from a vessel twenty fucking thousand feet under water, Harding?”

“I don’t know, Sir.”

“Are you positive this isn’t an error?”

Tom handed the General the printed sheet from the communication room.

“It’s all here, Sir – the message is real.”

The General read the message over and over again. Tom stood there, waiting for a response – an order.

“If he’s exposed, do you know what that means, Harding?”

“Yes, General,” Tom blocked his thoughts to what that meant.

Mcafee paced up and down the hallway, thinking of what to do next. He was in charge of all of this, the operation, the project, the communication – the mess.

“What the fuck am I going to tell him?” Mcafee said out loud.

Tom stood there saying nothing. He knew when to shut up.

“Do we know who the hell 432 is?” The General’s attention was back on Tom.

“Not yet, Sir. As soon as I got this message I came to you.”

“Well get on it, Harding. Find out who this guy is and where the hell he is.”

“Yes Sir?”

“Meet me in my office in twenty minutes, Harding. That gives you twenty minutes to find out who the fuck 432 is and where he is. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, General,” said Tom with all the conviction he could muster.

The General turned and briskly walked away down the hallway. Harding pulled out his cell phone and dialled.

“Cheapers - yeah it’s me. Wake up the crew – we’ve got twenty minutes.”

Sam Crease sat down at his desk and placed the briefing sheet on the table. He picked up the phone and dialled the number written on it.

“Yes, Sheriff Patterson, please.”

“One moment,” came the response from the other end of the line.

As he waited, Sam adjusted the photo of Emily and James that sat on his desk. He smiled as he looked at his little girl sitting proudly next to her baby brother.

“Sheriff Patterson.”

“Sheriff, Agent Sam Crease from the FBI, how are you?”

“Agent Crease, well I’m glad one of you guys finally called.”

“Well we’re a bit busy here, Sir. What can I do for you?”

There was a slight pause as the Sheriff cleared his throat.

“You heard of a Michael Burton, Agent Crease?”

“No, should I have?”

“He went missing in your area about eighteen years ago.”

“Eighteen years?”

“That’s right,” said the Sheriff.

Sam went silent.

“We found him yesterday naked on a beach not too far from where I’m sitting.”

Sam clicked open the FBI missing persons file on his computer. He typed in Burton.

“He was harassing some poor lady,” the Sheriff continued, “Said all he was doing was trying to find out where he was.”

“Is he in good health, Sheriff?”

“Well that’s the thing.”

The scanning had finished.

Michael Burton

Aged 28: Born 11th March 1968

Marital Status: Married

Dependants: 1 child – daughter aged 2 years

Reported missing 30th October 1993

Last seen: New York City

“What’s the thing?” asked Sam

“He’s hysterical. Can’t control him– can’t shut him up. I’ve had to lock him up.”

“Lock him up?”

“That’s right,” replied Patterson. “This is no ordinary case, Agent Crease, that’s why I called you guys, see if you could help. I figured since he went missing in New York all those years ago, you guys would be the best to deal with it.”

“What do you mean no ordinary case?” asked Sam

There was another pause, long enough to make it uncomfortable.

“Have you found his file yet, Agent Crease?’

“Right in front of me. Why?”

“Is his photo up on the screen?” asked Patterson

“Yes. Why?”

“Well the thing is – he looks exactly how he does in that photo.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Agent Crease, he hasn’t aged - not one day. If you see him you’ll know what I’m talking about - the guy still looks twenty five – there’s no way he’s in his forties.”

Sam looked at the photo on his screen.

“Has he told you where he’s been for all these years?” asked Sam

“This guy has no clue what’s going on – he still thinks it’s 1993. I’m telling you, Agent Crease, he’s frightened, lost and confused and quite frankly he’s spooking the shit out of me and my staff here.”

“Have you contacted his family?”

“No, not yet. I wanted to talk to you guys first. You know – let you deal with it and all.”

“That’s fine, Sheriff. Leave it with me. I’ll book the next flight to Miami and I’ll see you soon. Now where were you again?”

“Collier County, Naples. I’ll have my secretary here fax you over the directions.”

“Thanks, you got our number?’

“Right in front of me – only take a few minutes,” replied Patterson.

“Good, I should see you before the day’s out,” and Sam hung up the phone.

He looked at the computer screen, the photo of Michael Burton staring back at him.

Sam picked up the phone again and dialled home.

He got the machine…

“Honey, I need to fly out to Florida today. I’m sorry, it can’t be avoided. Call me when you get this message. Love you. Bye.”