I Am Death

Twenty-eight

Garcia paused what he was doing, turned toward his partner and allowed his gaze to settle on the note on Hunter’s desk.

‘OK,’ Hunter said. ‘Let’s try to break this down into parts.’

He slid a copy of the note to the edge of his desk. His coffee had finally cooled down enough for him to have his first sip. It tasted like paradise.

‘Have a look just at the first and second paragraphs and tell me what you think they mean. Don’t try to read between the lines or find any double meanings to anything. Just read them and tell me what you think.’

Garcia didn’t bring his chair around. Instead, he just leaned over Hunter’s desk, placing both hands on the desktop.

Garcia read the paragraph three times before scratching his chin and looking back at Hunter.

‘He’s preaching, being condescending even, reminding us of who we are, what our job is, what the public expect of us, and what happens when we fail or make a mistake.’ There was a short pause. ‘There’s also a blatant accusation, saying that we see only what we choose to see. And this line —’ he pointed to it on the note — ‘ “And the problem with that is that when they play at being blind men, people suffer... people get tortured... and people die.” Though very aggressive,’ Garcia continued, ‘it doesn’t sound like a threat. It sounds like a statement.’

‘You’re exactly right,’ Hunter agreed. ‘There’s no other way of interpreting those two paragraphs, Carlos. They’re clear and concise. No ambiguity, no sarcasm, no play on words, no double meanings, and nothing hidden between the lines.’

Garcia’s attention didn’t deviate from the note.

‘Now, have a look at the third paragraph and tell me what you think. Again, forget double meanings and all. Just read it like a letter.’

Garcia thought about it for a moment. ‘It’s... a challenge,’ he said. ‘He’s defying us to go find him. To pick him out of a crowd. To identify him. That’s the invitation to the game. As you’ve said before, he wants to play.’

‘Right again,’ Hunter said. ‘But there’s something else. Something not actually hidden. You just need to read it carefully.’

Garcia frowned and reread the paragraph a couple more times. ‘OK,’ he said, standing up straight and shrugging. ‘I’m missing it, then. What else? What am I not seeing?’

‘He’s not only challenging us to pick him out of a crowd, Carlos. He’s questioning if we’d be able to see what he has become. That’s a very powerful statement.’ Hunter had another sip of his coffee. ‘Think of what that word actually means.’

‘He’s telling us that he wasn’t always like this,’ Garcia said, looking at Hunter, his voice a touch more excited then a moment ago. ‘He wasn’t always a monster, a killer. He’s not your textbook sociopath because he wasn’t born that way. He, for the lack of a better word, became that way.’

Hunter nodded slowly.

‘Something changed him.’