Free The Burning by Jonas Saul Page A

have betrayed my confidence. They would have never talked freely with someone like you. Not about me, anyway.”
     
    “Ahh, but they did,” Rod said, holding up his right index finger. “What they didn’t know was who I am. They thought I was a writer who had been saved from that burning building a few years back. They thought I already knew about your abilities. Neither one thought what they told me was news to me.”
     
    “Let me get this straight. You just knocked on their door and chatted about me? That’s it? Is that how it happened?”
     
    “Not exactly. I posed as a cab driver for Dolan. We chatted for an hour in New York traffic. I told him that you and I talked once in a while and that I missed you. Esmerelda and I talked it up when a bouquet of flowers were mistakenly sent to her home address. I delivered the flowers and told her I recognized her name. Wasn’t she the friend of Sarah Roberts, who was also my friend? Boy, can that woman talk. She was so appreciative of what you did for her daughter.”
     
    Sarah stared at him. If she had a weapon of any kind at that moment, she would have used it and screw the consequences. Rod had gone too far.
     
    “I refuse to be your guinea pig.”
     
    “Look, Sarah, you tracked Armond Stuart around the world with no resources but your own wits and your sister, Vivian. Do you expect me to believe you’re just lucky? That you’re an average twenty-four-year-old girl? How do you manage a task like that without help? Some of our best FBI agents can’t do what you’ve done. Give me something to go on.”
     
    Sarah moved her head back and forth slowly.
     
    “What?” Rod asked. “What’s that? Your answer?”
     
    “I want a glass of water.”
     
    Rod raised his right hand and snapped his fingers. They waited, looking at each other. The door opened and a man walked in, set a bottle of water on the table and promptly left the room.
     
    Sarah opened the bottle, drank half of it and addressed Rod.
     
    “You can’t hold me,” Sarah said. “Maybe your government gives you extra powers, but twenty-four hours tops and I’ll be out of here. Save your bullshit for someone else.”
     
    Rod shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Sarah. Unless you work with me, you won’t be free to walk the streets until you’re in your fifties or later. Trust me on that.”
     
    “Bullshit. How could you pull that off? You guys aren’t Gods. You can’t make people disappear.”
     
    “These,” Rod said and shoved a manila folder across the table at her. He stepped away from the table and started pacing in front of the door.
     
    She flipped the folder open. Inside sat a series of pictures. The first one was the image of a man who looked to be in his early twenties. He was clearly dead, his eyes wide open, slack jaw, body askew. She knew he wasn’t sleeping. Too much blood. Someone had stabbed the guy in the stomach in a crude attempt to offer him a free vivisection.
     
    The next picture was more of the same. Different angles exposed every gruesome detail of a life exterminated.
     
    “What’s this got to do with me?”
     
    “That’s Joseph Singer. He was murdered by his girlfriend who has never been located. Until now.”
     
    Sarah looked up at him. Rod stopped pacing and knocked on the two-way glass. A moment later four men entered the room, two of them carrying machine guns strapped across their shoulders.
     
    “What do you mean, until now?” Sarah asked, her mouth barely moving. She started to put it all together.
     
    “I have multiple witnesses who will place you at the scene of the murder. Joseph’s sister saw a picture of you and will testify in court that you were the Sarah that Joseph Singer was dating at the time of his murder. I have enough proof and numerous witnesses to bury you with this charge and get a first degree murder conviction which will keep you behind bars for a very long time.” He stopped and crossed his arms, staring down at her.