The Rotating Fan

The door opened. In walked a serious and clean shaven young man with his sleeves rolled up and his tie loosened. Having a thick file folder in one hand and a briefcase in the other, he chose to close the office door with his foot. Then, regarding Reuben Rule for only a brief moment and without comment, he came right at him as busy men do when they have no time to play games.

Reuben sat on the other side of a six-foot table wearing tan shorts and red flip-flops. His yellow t-shirt screamed “Be” in large black letters. He looked bored, but not unhappy. The small, overly warm room reeked of bleach. There was a fan on the corner of the table which rotated back and forth, side to side, humming a low-pitched hum, and doing little good.

“I am Special Agent Aldon McAdams,” the man said. “FBI…” He waited for a response. None came.


Special Agent Aldon McAdams put the file folder under his arm and offered Reuben his right hand. “Let’s see if we can’t be friends,” he said.

Reuben looked at the hand and said, “Sit down, Aldon.”

Special Agent Aldon McAdams remained standing. He had thin arms and a thin nose and close-set gray eyes, and not much of a chin. Trying to look daunting and in control, he instead looked confused, for it was he who told people to sit down, though he never actually used those words. He usually said, “Have a seat.”

Special Agent Aldon McAdams cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”

Reuben reached forward and turned the fan so it blew directly on himself.

“Can I get you something, Mr. Rule? You want a coffee?”

"Sit the fuck down,” Reuben said.

Special Agent Aldon McAdams stood with his back straight and his eyes blinking. He was planning to sit, and now felt he couldn’t.

McAdams set his briefcase down on the floor and opened the file folder. He turned one page, licked his finger, and turned another. He almost raised his knee so he could have a place to set the file and realized himself at the last moment. Not looking at Reuben, his cheeks becoming pink, he sat down with a sigh, turned the fan back in the direction it had been facing before Reuben moved it, and began to read in comfort.

Reuben watched him for a moment or two, then reset the fan.

McAdams looked at the fan with raised eyebrows, then, shaking his head in bewilderment, went back to silently reading his report.

Reuben sat there trying to think of more things to say and do that would frustrate the young Special Agent, but before he could speak again, McAdams said, “It says here you’re somewhat of a hero, Mr. Rule.” He looked to Reuben for confirmation.

“Does it say that there?”

“Yes, it does.”

Reuben said, “Huh…” and left it at that.

“How many children did you rescue exactly?”

“How many does it say there, Aldon?”

“It says twelve, I believe.”

“Okay, that might be right. Who keeps count?”

“Quite a story,” McAdams said, his attention now back on the page.

“Did you use to wear glasses?” Reuben asked. “You did, didn’t you?”

McAdams looked up, surprised and silent.

“Yeah, you used to wear glasses. I can always tell.”

“I have a few questions for you...”

“Cut the crap, buster! Where were you on the night of June fourteen between nine o’clock and midnight?”

“Mr. Rule, we were hoping you would cooperate. This isn’t a game we’re playing here. I need some answers from you.”

“Yeah, well, I have another question. Since when does the FBI have jurisdiction in the Republic of Panama to bring me in and ask me questions?”

“We are a joint task force working closely with the Policía de Nacional. We are looking for a man named Evan Hunter—AKA Silencio. We want your help.”

“Are you telling me you still haven’t found that guy? Seriously?”

“No, Mr. Rule, we have not.”

“Little guy, five foot nothing? Jet black skin? Irritating as fuck?”

“That’s the one.”

“He wears sunglasses indoors! He even wears them at night!”

“That’s him.”

“I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if he wore them in the shower! I’m telling you, the guy would make Gandhi want to slap him!”

Special Agent Aldon McAdams looked unamused. “Mr. Rule? Please?”

“Can’t help you, Aldon. He never writes, he never calls, and I haven’t seen the little bastard for quite some time.”

“We think you can help us. And I think you will.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

McAdams took a deep breath. “Because we can make your life very difficult if you don’t!”

“Well, what the hell, Aldon? Panama City just threw me a parade. What happened to the love?”

“Mr. Rule, you’re sixty-one years old and a foreigner in this country. Do you really want to go back inside a Panamanian prison?”

“I just got out of a Panamanian prison. Then they threw me a parade! You’d all look pretty silly putting me back inside.”

The two men sat in silence for several long moments.

“Am I under arrest? If I am, I want a lawyer. If I’m not. . .”

“Evan Hunter is a known revolutionary combatant and was a member of FARC. He’s dangerous. We want him off the streets! The Panama government wants to know his whereabouts!”

“Has anybody ever thrown you a parade, Aldon?”

“Where is he, Mr. Rule?”

“No...I bet not!”

“You can help yourself by helping us.”

“I can be of no help in this regard. I do not know where he is. How would I? We aren’t buddies, he and I. Do you get that, Aldon? The guy stole my sailboat with me on it!”

“We think you’re in contact. He has a nine-year-old white girl with him by the name of Abigail, which we’re concerned about.”

“She’s eight.”

“Is that right?”

“It is right, and you’d have to break her arms to take her away from him. The last time I saw her, she seemed rather attached to your dangerous revolutionary combatant.”

“I find that interesting, Mr. Rule. When was the last time you saw her?”’

“I’m not surprised nobody ever threw you a parade. You’re no fun. Do you know that about yourself? You are a zero in the fun department.”

They looked at each other in silence, both men shaking their head at the other.

“I’ll see you, Aldon.” Reuben said standing. “Maybe if you weren’t such a dweeb I’d stick around.” He came around the table, and walked toward the door not knowing what to expect when he got there. He found the door unlocked and looked back at McAdams. “Silencio helped me rescue those kids. It was actually his idea. His plan. Did you know that?”

Special Agent Aldon McAdams was again reading the report. He said without turning around, boredom in his voice, “We’ll be in touch, Mr. Rule.”

Reuben left the room, leaving the door open.

Special Agent Aldon McAdams listened to the snapping sound of flip-flops retreating down the hall. Then he turned the fan around and closed his eyes.

1,160 Words--