Powder

It was sunny outside, a typical San Francisco day. Wisenburg felt overly tired as though I simply hadn’t slept well the night before, or his body failed to absorb the sleep he gave it. I did my regular morning routine, you know shit, shower, shave! Told the family goodbye and left for the office.
He had only six months into my new position as head of the Fugitive Apprehension Team or F.A.T and he kind of liked it for one thing this office overlooked the bay and Alcatraz was always a hub of activity, He would often times open up the blinds or even remove them entirely and just get lost if you may into the heart of San Fran bay. The other thing he loved about this job was the lack of action. Nothing to do almost always, and that might just be my favorite part of the new position. My wife particularly loved it as he would no longer return home depleted from chasing some guy through the local neighborhoods, to the point of missing out on time with the kids. And her! One can appreciate her position though as it is normal to hear of some crazy event in which a local cop was shot or shot at and, while he accepted that it comes with the territory, No one wants to be that guy who never comes home you know.
His team was made up of fifteen guys who had been around the block as we like to put it for at least ten years, so one could say they were quite seasoned. Though he hadn’t pick them himself they all had a major bust under their belt and were selected for that very reason, to join the unit.
Their job was a little better paying than regular detective and our insurance almost double that of patrol units. Still they all sometimes complained of missing the action.
It was the morning of June 4th 2016. Captain Wisenburg got in the office to a series of emails from a special agent Munstin of the Massachusetts FBI field office. He had never interacted with the F.B.I directly before so he was quite... intrigued by the idea to say the least.
The overwhelming quantity of correspondence he had mailed was also quite impressive. ‘They must have been up all night’ he thought, as the last received email was sent at 4:23am, “they don’t play around” he thought.
One by one he began reviewing the contents of these pieces of communication. As he did, it became clear our department had its first real engagement on its hands. He must have been on the third email when he received the now famous phone call.
The phone rang and as he picked up a rough firm voice came over, “hello captain Walsenburg?”
“Hello yes this is Walsenburg. With whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”
“Hey this is special agent Mark Munstin of the Boston Massachusetts F.B.I office. How’s your morning?”
“Oh hey Mr. Munstin! Well my morning is great so far, trying to brief myself on the document you’ve sent. Ahh! quite the task I might add. Only on the third email as we speak. How is your morning? You guys don’t sleep in Boston do you?”
“Quite the average, and sleep comes when we die does it not? But yeah the job here is always the same just different bad guys to catch! But I’m glad you got my emails”
“Oh yes all thirty two of them I might add!”
“Ha-ha well we do have limits on the attachment sizes do we not? And you might note there is a large cache of files to cover this case!”
“As a matter of fact I did notice that! It took a while to review only the first two attachment packets. I had come to conclude that I might need to print these files and take them home or I might never get to review them all.”
“Please do as you feel necessary, just be reminded there is a confidential aspect to these documents.”
“Oh of course! It may be my first time working with you guys but I assume the same rules apply as to any high level investigation.”
“Good man, good man! I want to give you a quick rundown as to what we are dealing with and then I will leave you to acquaint yourself with the details.”
the conversation continued for another forty-five minutes as Munstin divulged into the state of the investigation and the requirements they had for Wisenburg and his team. “Well I look forward to your assistance ,and hope this is the start of a new alliance between our two departments” he said as they bid each other good bye for now.
Placing the phone back on the hook, Wisenburg leaned back in his chair and swiveled himself around to face the bay.
A ferry was departing Alcatraz laden with thrill seekers who were bursting at their seams with enthusiasm and awe. ‘I never understood what about danger that creates such an emotion of thrill inside us. From carnival rides to horror movies humans and fear seem to have a love hate relationship, never breaking up they dwell together in such ebb and flow. Who tours an old dilapidating place of suffering? What makes the asylums of the early 1800s and 1900s so appealing to thrill seekers? Why do we possess adrenaline? Is it only to entertain our pleasure receptors or does it serve a purpose?’ he thought
Smiling Wisenburg turned back toward the desk and retrieved a pack of Marlboro reds, he had always been a smoker and while he did look forward to the day give up on smoking, it surely won’t be today. “Smoking calms my mind and thoughts above anything I know.” Said he to himself
His wife has always said she is entertained by his demeanor whilst he smoke as he “appeared like the calmest seas”. But being a nurse by profession she never hesitates to encourage his quitting.
Searching his desk for a lighter, he couldn’t help but observe the emerald green lamp shade so iconic of corporate spaces. ‘I wonder if some guru of interior decorating wrote a sort of Holy Grail of office designs where they recommended the use of the lamest ugliest colours and dimmest most underperforming lamp for your desk. The company who supplies these lams must be owned by the very Gideons who infect all public places with their version of the holy book of Christianity. I simply cannot find another item to rival the former two in public distribution.’ Thought he.
His office was an off white colour at the top with a wood trim halfway to the ground that was a general oak brown. There were a few insignias painted on the walls that referenced our unit and the San Fran P.D. above the door was a kind of mural of a banner carried by two doves bearing the departments motto, a coat hanger stood by one side of the door and the other side was manned by a flower pot sitting on a wall desk containing a spruce bonsai plant his granddad had planted and which had traveled from his granddad to his dad and eventually to him.
Snapping back to reality he sift through the desk drawer and locate his incendiary device “there you are!” he said grabbing it from the drawer and proceeded to poison his lungs with the taste and smell a good old Marlboro was now inflicting upon my senses. He let a deep slow exhale go before a long smooth pull…euphoria!