Whack Job by Mike Baron Page B

Darling was the latest addition. Otto began printing out each individual’s history. He would study them in his hotel room.
    There were two raps on the door. Otto scooted back on his smooth-gliding chair and opened it. Alvarez came in with a plastic hotel ice bucket filled with water that he set on the floor next to the wall and an Apple laptop, which he handed to Otto.
    “I loaded this one too so don’t lose it.”
    Steve got up and began to drink. Otto thanked Alvarez. Alvarez left.
    Otto turned off the overhead lights. The only illumination came from the computer terminal, a cool blue reflecting the FBI home page. Otto brought up the first video, Allen Froines in Albuquerque.
    The screen was black and white, a still life of a parking garage with pale gray pillars and expensive cars. The quality was surprisingly good. A heavyset man wearing a hat and a dark suit and carrying a briefcase entered the picture, back to viewers, from below the camera. A blinged-out Chrysler cruised slowly past and disappeared beneath the camera. Froines stared after it with distaste.
    Froines was halfway across the floor to his car when he stopped, dropped the briefcase and took off his hat. Smoke wafted from his ears. He staggered, turning to face the camera, eyes blank, mouth. open, hands groping. Flame burst from his mouth and in a sudden blaze that turned the screen white he went nova. The blaze flared silently for over a minute. It faded revealing the blackened cinder of a man banging into a pillar and collapsing. He continued to burn long after he fell.
    The video made Otto queasy. He’d seen too many burn victims, smelled the blackened flesh. The sight brought back those sensations. Once you’ve smelled burning flesh it stays with you. The most disturbing aspect was sometimes the smell of cooked human flesh made him hungry, even as his belly was in full rebellion. Just before Froines burst into flames Otto thought he saw a gleam near his head, like a droplet of flung sweat.
    He sat quietly while his equilibrium returned. He sipped bottled water. He cued the second video.
    The second video was worse. There were others present. The quality was astonishing, as shot by Laszlo Kovacs. Cap and Trade lobbyist Jody Albrecht (Green Energy, LLC,) a slight, balding man with a diamond ear stud, regarded his cards at a blackjack table. The video was taken from over and behind the dealer. One player sat on Albrecht’s left, two on his right. The men on Albrecht’s right appeared to be Chinese, wearing identical black suits.
    Albrecht shoved a stack of chips into the pot then flung his cards across the table striking the dealer. Albrecht looked surprised. He lurched out of his chair, curling in pain. When a security guard stepped up to ask if he was all right he shoved the bigger man away with enough strength to send the guard stumbling into the table. Albrecht spun around like a dog chasing its tail and burst into flame like a Roman candle. He became an indistinct white blaze. Players scrambled for the exits. Three casino personnel were on the scene within seconds emptying fire extinguishers on the writhing figure, to no avail.
    Charred remains poked up through the white foam like the contents of a shark’s stomach.
    This one had witnesses. There were numerous articles in the Reno press about the incident. The police claimed that Albrecht’s clothes caught fire. Grief and trauma counselors believed it was a mass hallucination. Some believed David Copperfield was behind the stunt.

    ALBRECHT’S DEATH RULED A SUICIDE

    People simply refused to believe what they’d seen, what the evidence supported. A U of N physics professor explained that Albrecht had made his clothes from a highly flammable synthetic fiber imbued with accelerants. Several of the witnesses claimed to have smelled a chemical aroma around him.
    Otto sweated despite the chill temperature. He calmed himself ruffling Steve’s fur. He watched both videos again. He watched the