Lostport

Lostport Chapter 1

Lostport

 A Novel by Howard Shrier

 To my agent, Helen Heller, who threw the first pitch and stayed until the final out.

 PART ONE

 “No Witness Security Program participant, who followed security guidelines, has been harmed while under the active protection of the U.S. Marshals.”

 -- www.usmarshals.gov/witsec

 [The story you are about to read is intended for mature readers due to its sexual content and language. It may not be appropriate for all audiences.]

Chapter 1

The conference room could have been anywhere but it happened to be in the part of northern Virginia close to Falls Church. Its street address appeared nowhere and was never spoken. In a room without windows, at one end of a table meant to hold at least eight, Ben McBride sat with a steaming cup of coffee and a doughnut he appreciated but didn’t want. The three men grouped around the far end were all from the Marshals Service, and all had identical cream folders in front of them.

“The nephews’ names,” said Al Gunnarson, the senior Inspector.

“Dylan and Deacon,” Ben said.

“The niece?”

“Alicia. She’s a darlin’. She’ll be eight in the spring.”

“What date?”                                                                  

“April tenth. Uncle Ben wouldn’t forget that.”

The youngest of the marshals, and the one with the most swagger, was a stocky six-footer named Mike Hernandez. He said, “Your size, Ben, your build, you must have played some ball. Where’d you go, Pomona High?”

“No,” Ben said, “My mom wanted me to go to Diamond Ranch.”

“Why?”

“Because Pomona was mostly Hispanic by then. No offense.”

“I’m only half-Hispanic,” Hernandez said, “so I’m only half-offended. What was the team there called?”

“The Panthers.”

“Middle linebacker?”

“Inside. Coach Simpson liked a three-four defense.”

“Coach Simpson?”

Ben looked at him, not getting it for a second, then said, “Shit. Coach Simon. Philip Simon.”

“You sure now?”

“Yes.”

“You don’t want to change your mind again?”

“No.”

“Because there’s no second chances out there.”

“I said I’m sure. I played inside linebacker for Coach Simon at Pomona, okay? I was All-District my junior and senior years.”

“No shit.”

“You could look it up.”

“I don’t have to. I’m the one who planted it.”