The Confession Of Zakary Jameson

Confession of a Mastermind

Agent Alexander Donovan

Today was the day I had been waiting for- the day Zakary Jameson finally confessed.

Not that I didn't like Zak, he was a good guy. It was just that he had been my obsession for the last six months, and it was a relief for the wild chase to finally be over.

That morning, Kate, my advisor, told me Zak said he would talk. There was one condition, however. I had to also tell my side of the story. I thought of this as some sort of way for the criminal to gain some believability.

Yeah, right. Believability for a convicted killer.

I strutted down the long hall that ran from my office in the FBI HQ in Chicago, Illinois, to the rooms designated for questioning. At the very end of the hall was the one that held Jameson.

In front of the steel door were two armed policemen. Smart move, considering what this guy could do. They stepped aside as I drew closer.

"Are you sure you don't want one of us inside while you talk to the convict?" The one on the right, Barry, asked. I nodded.

"Just the reporter, just like we arranged. I am just here for the story." I responded. Barry was a little dull, which sometimes got annoying.

Barry nodded as I opened the door and stepped inside the large room.

The questioning room was large, in case multiple policemen or detectives were needed inside. The walls and floors seemed to blend together, being made entirely of concrete. On one wall was a whiteboard, which, as everyone knew, was like a window from the other side in a small viewing room. In the room was a guard and two other reporters, even though I could not see them. In the center of the room was a small, square table at which my target sat.

Zakary Jameson was a young man, hardly 25. His body was muscular but thin, like a professional boxer's. From across the room, I could see his dark eyes staring down at the handcuffs which bound him to the table. His black hair was wildly sticking up, like always. The dark hair greatly contrasted with his pale skin.

I swallowed and stepped closer to the table, straightening my tie. Even when I reached the edge of the table, Zak did not lift his eyes. I sat at the chair across from him and folded my hands.

"I have been told you are ready to confess to your heinous crimes, Mr. Jameson." I started. Though some may think it odd, I still say this criminal as a human and a man with feelings of his own, hence the respect. Zak raised his head slightly, just enough so I could see his grim, dagger-like eyes string at me.

"Why does she have to be here?" He demanded. His voice was quiet, which I thought was funny. He did not look like a killer. I looked at the woman who sat in a folding chair in the far corner. She held a pen and pad of paper. I sighed.

"Mr. Jameson, this conversation is very important. We need it to be recorded." I answered. Zak's eyes darted slyly to my suit pocket.

"Isn't the recording device in your pocket enough for that?" He said, his voice smooth like a snake's. That was the thing that made him seem more dark and dangerous. His voice was actually quite intimidating, mostly because he always sounded like he knew something you didn't, which he usually did.

I chuckled, reaching in my pocket. I withdrew and set the recorder on the table between us. Zak stared at it with his snake-like eyes. He looked content, given his current situation, just for once again outsmarting me.

"Okay, let's begin, shall we?" I asked.

"Let's."

I cleared my throat.

"Ok how about we just start off by you showing me what you can do. Just for the record." I motioned to the reporter in the corner. Zak sighed heavily.

"I've done that several times already." He complained.

"This is the last time, I promise." I assured him. Zak closed his eyes and nodded. Excitedly, I reached into my pocket, pulling out a small object and setting it down next to the recorder.

A chess piece. The pawn. It seemed right, since I had been the pawn in his little games for so long.

Zak sat up straighter, never taking his eyes off the pawn.

"Any specific requests?" He asked me.

"No. Just do what you want with it."

We sat in silence for several moments, both watching the chess piece. I was, once again, dumbfounded when it shot off the table at lightning speed and shattered against the wall.

I turned my head, staring at the broken chess pawn. After a minute of staring at it, I turned back to find Zak staring at me with the sly look in his face that I knew all too well. It was a struggle to hold back my grin.

"Happy?" He asked, not like he really cared.

"Mr. Jameson, I continue to be amazed by your abilities, and your ignorance and foolishness." Zak stared at me smugly.

"I'm not the foolish one here, Alexander." He scoffed.

"I'm not the one in handcuffs."

There was silence as Zak processed this.

"You really think I'm in here because you were smart enough to catch me? I allowed myself to be caught." He finally said. I didn't respond. That really had never occurred to me.

"Let's get back to the story." I said quickly. Zak smiled as I turned on the recorder.

"It all began six months ago..."

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