Snow Day

Cal Lightman stepped from of the buzzing coffee shop, a venti Chai tea in hand. He looked up into the early morning sky, squinting into the sun. He found it hard to believe they were calling for snow, what was to be touted as the heaviest snowfall they'd seen in nearly 30 years.

Winter was finally looking to turn ugly on the citizens of Washington, DC. The city had neither the facilities nor the resources to deal with such a natural dumping. Citizens were opting to evacuate their homes, heading south to where the skies were clear and the roads were safe.

Cal shrugged his shoulders and wondered if this was some sort of prank the Canadians were playing on them. That they had collectively come together to send a gift to their neighbours to the south. If it was, Washington, DC was not laughing; at least not yet.

Still, the touted 10 inches that were to fall the previous night, had not, and Cal was feeling somewhat relieved as he stopped to wait at the busy intersection. Across the street, the building which housed the offices of The Lightman Group towered above him; glassed front bouncing the sun's reflection back onto the street below.

Cal searched the sidewalk in front of him for a familiar face. He checked his watch.

It was coming on 9:45am and Gillian Foster had yet to elegantly grace him with her presence. An oddity for the ever punctual Dr. Foster, she had always entered the office freshly pressed and bright eyed, contradictory to half dressed, ruffled early morning demeanour. Cal checked his watch again. Yes, tardiness was something that was never expected of Gillian; she left that up to Cal.

The light changed and Cal crossed the street.

Cal placed his tea down onto his desk and in rubbing his hands together, turned to greet his assistant, Anna, as she entered his office.

"Good morning," Cal sang to her as she approached his desk, several file folders held tightly to her chest.

Anna cocked her head slowly and raised a single eyebrow. "Good morning, Dr. Lightman," she said hesitantly.

Cal raised his arms to the side and leaned slightly toward her. "Wha? Can't say g'morning?"

Anna's eyes opened wide as she racked her brain for the next thing to say. All lines from her face vanished. "You're very chipper this morning," she said matter-of-factly.

"Something wrong with that, is there? Can't be chipper and merry on this sunny morning?"

"N-No, it's nothing," she stammered. "I-It's just—"

"Out with it, then."

"I would have expected that from Dr. Foster, but not from you."

Cal glared playfully at his assistant, his sight eventually making contact with the thin stack of beige-coloured folders she hugged to her chest.

"All right then, Anna," he said sitting in his chair, lifting his feet onto his desk. He crossed his legs at his ankles. "Out with it; which multi-billion dollar organization are we going to save today?"

Anna stood motionless. Eyes widening again, she stared dumbfounded at her boss. "Ummm..."

Cal cocked his head toward her, grimacing. "Multi-million dollar?"

Anna's mouth dropped open slowly, words refusing to form.

"Multi-employee organization?" He reached, offering to take the folders from her.

Anna grinned nervously, baring white teeth to him. She presented him with the folders. "Would you believe bankrupt organization?" she asked hesitantly.

"Oh bloody hell," Cal gasped taking the folder forcefully. He opened the first folder and lifted out a single sheet; the only sheet in the file. "This?"

"Did I mention they're bankrupt?"

Cal rolled his eyes and skimmed the page. Without looking up he sighed. "This is Gillian's doing, isn't it?"

"Yes?" Anna offered with uncertainty.

Cal pursed his lips together and placed the page back into the folder. He shuffled the folders in his lap, opened the next file hoping for something exciting; a glimmer of hope at a payout that could keep them a float for at least another month. Instead, he was greeted with charity case after charity case. Nothing that screamed 'help us and we'll pay you handsomely'. Instead, each file screamed 'Gillian Foster's doing'.

He leaned to the side, raised his right arm to rest on the back of his chair. With his left elbow leaning against the arm of his chair, he placed his head in his hand. "This it, then?" he asked.

Anna's eyes widened and she gasped remembering. "Wait! Loker has something."

"Yes? Out with it then."

She paused trying to remember. "Some monkey thing with the Smithsonian National Zoological Park."

Cal looked back to her unimpressed. "Monkey thing?"

"Yes."

"That's it?"

"Slow season?" Anna returned raising her shoulders in a shrug.

"Slow season for liars, eh, Anna?"

"Yes?"

"There never is." Cal sighed again and reached for his tea. "All right then," he said looking up to her, smiling forcefully. "Thank you, love." He watched as she turned to leave. Suddenly, he remembered. "Speaking of Foster," Cal said, pausing to take a sip of his drink. "Ring her up, will ye? Tell her that if she doesn't get that tiny hiney of hers in here pronto, she's fired."

Anna paused at the door and turned slowly, her back straight. "Would you like me to use those exact words, sir?"

Cal grimaced toward her, mouth open. "Use your discretion."

Anna nodded and exited his office.

The skinny pile of beige-coloured folders stared back at Cal as he took another sip of his tea: a retail employer-employee overtime dispute; a family bickering over a not so price-less heirloom; something about a border collie; and two other cases which Cal had not even bothered to read through.

He sighed heavily and rubbed his hands over his face; this was going to be a long week. He looked at his watch. 10:30.

Perfect time for a mini showdown with Foster, he thought. This was the last of these cases. This was the last of their so-called charity work. He picked up the folders and rose from his chair.

The hallways of the Lightman Group echoed eerily back at him as Cal walked toward Gillian's office. He wondered if all his employees had taken it upon themselves to declare the day a Snow Day.

He peeked in through the large glass door to Gillian's office and opened it to quickly scan the room. There was still no sign of her.

He turned as two familiar voices echoed toward him, mumbling with irritation.

Eli Loker and Ria Torres sauntered slowly toward him, dressed in heavy parkas and scarves.

"Should've known," Eli began, shoulders falling, dejected. "That you'd make us work on a day like today."

"A day like what?" Cal asked unimpressed with Eli's attitude. "Too sunny for ye, Loker?" Cal looked from Eli to Ria who raised her eyebrows offering no argument.

Eli sighed and raised his arms slightly in frustration. "They're calling for snow. Lots of it. If you'd bother to turn on your radio—"

Cal pushed the folders he was carrying into Eli's midsection and raised an arm to point to the large window at the end of the hall. "Well it's not snowing now, is it then?" He stepped back looked them over in a father-like pose. "All right then. Hop to it." He shooed them with a hand.

Ria looked at Cal and without a word tugged slightly on Eli's coat.

Eli looked down at the folders in his hands. He glanced over the contents and held the folders toward Cal. "I'm already working on a case. A big one."

Cal took a step toward him threateningly. "What?" he asked, searching Eli's face. "The monkey thing."

Eli threw his head back and groaned. "It's a gorilla thing; the western lowland gorilla to be exact. His name is Kojo and he's really quite fascinating. Did you know-"

Ria reached forward suddenly and grabbed the folders from Eli's hands. "Thanks boss," she said happily, masking her true feelings, "We'll get right on this."

Ria dragged Eli down the hall by the hand and Cal smiled as he watched them round a corner, disappearing from sight. Smile still on his face, Cal returned to his office and settled into his desk chair. If it was going to be a long day, a long week, at least he could do it with ease. He opened his laptop and began to sift through his emails.

Nothing new; nothing from Foster.

A sinking feeling was beginning in his stomach but he pushed it down and continued to skim through his email.

Anna entered, knocking lightly on the door. "Dr. Lightman?" she asked hesitantly. She stood with her hands folded in front of her.

Without looking up from his laptop, Cal replied, "Yes?"

"I have a Dr. Stevenson from the Smithsonian Institute requesting a video conference call with you. He says he has a proposition for you."

Cal looked up slowly. "Smithsonian. That's government funded."

"Yes, it is."

Cal released a slow breath and shook his head slightly. "All right then. Set it up; patch him through. I'll take it in here."

Anna nodded and left his office.

Cal sipped the remainder of his tea, grimacing as the cold liquid touched his lips. "Blech!" he uttered and tossed the remainder, cup and all, into the waste basket beside his desk.

His screen blinked and the video conferencing program began to load. A still picture of the Smithsonian Institute beamed back at him; a reddy brown, bricked building with turrets. Atop flew an American flag. Bright, green grass grew on the lawn around it; trees were alive with newly opened blossoms, and Cal smiled to himself at the thought of springtime, without the impending hindrance of the coming snowfall.

Cal waited for his party to join and stared longingly at the picture provided.

Suddenly, the picture disappeared from his screen and was replaced instead by that of a cement bricked room in the colour of muted grey. The lighting was dim; from what Cal could tell was a single open-faced light bulb. Cal's brow immediately furrowed.

Shadows moved across his screen and Cal realised that the picture was not a still, but a video feed instead. The lower half of a dark figure passed in front of the camera, bringing with him a wooden chair. Dressed all in black, with black gloved hands, the figure sat slowly and presented themselves to Cal. The face of the figure was hidden under the mask of none other than former President of the United States, Richard M. Nixon.

Cal smiled to himself and looked up into the web camera glowing back at him. "Hello?" Cal said strongly, leaning forward to speak into the computer's microphone. "You've reached Cal Lightman. How can I help you?"

The figure remained motionless; hands neatly placed on his knees, back straight. The surroundings were eerie enough without the rubber face of one of the most infamous Presidents in the history of the United States looking back at him. Cal leaned forward and searched the face of Nixon. No eyes could be seen through the dark open holes in the Nixon mask.

"Hello?" Cal offered again. Again nothing was returned to him.

Cal turned the volume on his computer to its max and leaned forward, placing his ear close to the speaker. No buzzing, no humming, just the empty noise of his own speakers.

Cal pushed himself away from his desk and bound toward the door. He pointed toward Anna at reception.

"Is everything all right, Dr. Lightman?" Anna asked.

"Peachy keen." Cal took a few quickened steps down the hall, before he turned on his heel and returned to her, breath quickening. "Anything from Foster?"

Anna picked up the phone and placed it to her ear. "Nothing as of yet. She's not answering her cell."

Cal nodded. "As you soon as you get a hold of her, you tell me, yeah?"

Anna nodded and began dialing Gillian's familiar number.

Cal turned and headed back toward their video sequencing room. "You're gonna love this one, Gill." He murmured to himself. Cal smiled as he reached the room's doors. The day was beginning to show him a little excitement.

"Loker," he barked entering the room, pointing toward the screen where Loker was splicing video of Kojo, the Smithsonian zoo's western lowland gorilla.

Eli turned quickly to greet Cal, unable to hide the evidence of his work before Cal had walked through the door. "I can explain," Eli stammered, grinning nervously at his boss.

Cal waved his hand at Eli. "Never mind," he barked again. "We'll deal with that later." Cal stood in front of the screen and shoved his hands in his pockets. Ria rose from her desk to stand by Cal's side.

"What is it?" she asked.

Cal pointed at Eli. "Pull the feed in from my office computer. Throw it up."

Eli played with the controls in front of him, flicked buttons, and tapped a few keys on his keyboard. The screen in front of them blinked. Kojo, the lowland gorilla disappeared making way for a dark figure in a Nixon mask.

"Whoa!" Ria gasped and squinted up at the screen, immediately attempting to read the eyes of the masked figure. "You can't make out the eyes."

"I know," Cal offered.

Eli played with a few more controls and leaned forward to the monitor in front of him. "There's so sound track to this video feed."

"I know that, too," Cal said looking from Eli to Ria. "Come on kids. Catch up."

They turned their attention back to the screen, back to Nixon who still sat calmly, his back straight, hands resting on his knees.

"Do you want me to patch you through?" Eli asked.

Cal shook his head. "I'm not entirely sure he can hear me."

"Or she," Ria offered.

Cal ignored her.

Suddenly, Nixon leaned forward and rose from his chair. He disappeared off screen. A heavy movement of shadows appeared on the cement wall and two new figures appeared on screen shortly thereafter. A dark hooded figure in a thin, rubber Barbara Bush mask, led a womanly figure in a muted grey suit to the wooden chair on screen. The struggle ensued and an arm flew hitting the single light bulb above them. The light swung from its cord adding an eerie effect to their video feed.

Cal's gut tightened again as the grey suited figure came into view; a black hood covering their face. Cal searched the body, heart sinking. He recognized the suit, the body shape, and as he panned over the scene in front of him, his eyes settled on the hostage's hands bound together at their lap; hands recognisable to him.

Cal broke into an instant sweat.

Ria read his face, looked up the screen searching for a clue as to what Cal had seen.

The figure in the Barbara Bush mask reached forward and placed a white placard on the hostage's lap. In thick, black lettering the Lightman group read: NO COPS. NO FBI. 12 HOURS.

The group had an instant to read the sign before the black hood was removed, revealing the frightened face of Gillian Foster.

An instant later, the feed was cut and the Lightman group were left staring at a blank screen.

A/N: Loving your reviews and feedback. Thanks so much. :)