CAMERA part 2

Copyright (c) 2019 by Randall R. Peterson ALL RIGHTS RESERVED This is a work of fiction. All persons, locations and actions are from the author's imagination or have been used in a fictitious manner.

Part 2

By R. Peterson

Benjamin Goldstein turned the metal case the camera had been kept in over in his hands, looking at it from all angles He was careful to avoid the jagged edges where a special high-speed saw had bypassed the locking mechanism cutting an inch off the top at a flea market in Arizona. “There’s something odd about this,” he said. He picked up the Flexaret camera and placed it inside the padded and form-fitting box and then removed it. Taking a folding ruler from his pocket he measured the camera and then the box. “There’s an extra compartment inside the bottom,” he said. “The case is about two and a half inches deeper than it should be.”

“Probably just air-space,” I told him. “They found an empty box and altered it to fit the camera.”

“I don’t think so,” Benny said removing the padding from the box. “The locking mechanism is extremely complex and I believe it doesn’t just open the lid.” He tapped a metal rod running down the inside of the box with his finger. “I think the same lock also opens a compartment in the bottom.

“The guy who sold me the camera said he took the box to several people and none of them could pick the lock,” I told him. “That’s why they cut it.”

“I’d like to take this box to an expert,” Benny said. “If he can’t open this lock nobody can.”

“That’s fine with me,” I told him. “What about the camera?”

“We already know that the photos that you developed might be worth a fortune,” Benny said. “But we need to prove that the pictures came from this camera.”

“How do we do that?”

“All cameras, even the same models are a little bit different,” Benny said, “especially the older ones. The image that they leave on the film is as individual as your fingerprints. What I need you to do is take some photos with this camera, anything you want then we’ll have something for the experts to compare the other pictures with. It might be that the camera itself could be worth a fortune.”

I had two job interviews in the city tomorrow; I’d take the camera with me and take some pictures then.

-------2-------

Lansing Pharmaceutical Corporation was on the corner of Byron Ave. and 188^th. Street. The eighteen story structure wasn’t that impressive, but the angry crowd picketing outside was. The corporation specialized in life saving cancer drugs and the rumor was they were outrageously expensive. If anyone needed public relations help these people did. I took the camera out of backpack and started taking photographs right after the taxi dropped me off at the curb.

A heavy set woman waving a sign that said My daughter died because I couldn’t pay Lansing $60,000 a year! broke through a police line and charged toward the front doors. She was knocked off her feet with a water cannon. I photographed her and the cop helping her to stand up and the other officer who was putting her into handcuffs. Once inside the building I was kept waiting almost an hour after my scheduled appointment. I spent the time staring at a cute secretary as she played video games on a computer outside John Russell’s office …. finally I was called inside.

“As you can see we have a negative public relations image,” Russel told me pointing out the window of his eighteenth-story office suite to the angry crowd on the street below. “Tell me how you would handle this situation.”

“I’d start out with an advertising campaign showing all the good things you do for your customers,” I told him. “Show the public there’s more to you than just profits!”

“Like what?” he demanded.

“Discounts for people who can’t afford your drugs, research for better treatments, make a wish camps for terminally ill children that sort of thing …”

“We don’t do any of those things!” Russel looked at me like I was mad.

“Why not?”

“We’re in business for one reason and that’s to make a profit for our shareholders,” he said before he showed me the door. “We’ll keep you in mind.”

I smiled grimly as I pushed my way through the angry crowds outside. Sometimes there is justice in this world.

-------3-------

My next appointment was across town and I used the subway. The car I rode in was almost empty when I first sat down ten minutes later it was standing room only. I gave up my seat to a pregnant black woman trying to control three squalling youngsters and I asked if I could take her picture. “Are you a talent scout for a high priced modeling agency?” she asked as she ground the cigar she was smoking on the floor.

“Something like that,” I told her.

“Knock yourself out honey!” then she smiled showing nicotine stained teeth, in the musty interior of the subway car they appeared a dirty shade of yellow.  For once, I felt grateful that I was shooting black and white film.

 After I’d waited for over thirty minutes, in the reception area of a car rental company in Manhattan, I found was told my appointment had been canceled. The receptionist didn’t even bother to apologize. I didn’t bother to protest. With a heavy heart, I decided to do a little sightseeing. I took a photo of the historic 110 foot tall Elm Tree named The Dinosaur on the corner of 163rd Street and St. Nicholas Avenue that legend says George Washington stood under while he watched a decisive battle with the British during the Revolutionary War … and then I called it a day.

It was late when I arrived home and all I wanted was to sleep. “Don’t forget it’s Charlie’s birthday tomorrow,” Nancy told me just before I nodded off. “But don’t worry, I’ve organized his party, and birthday cake.”

-------4-------

                Nancy and Charlie were both glued to the television when I woke up. I knew something was going on. The coffee was made, but Nancy still didn’t have a cup in her hand. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

            “An explosion in the subway,” she said. “Three dead and over forty injured.” I gasped. It was the same line I’d ridden the day before. “Terrorists?”

            “They’re not sure,” Nancy said. “Also there was a mass shooting at that pharmaceutical company you interviewed at … at least one dead and a dozen police injured.”

She shook her head and smiled wirily as I handed her a cup. “What are you some walking Typhoid Mary? You go into the city and all hell breaks loose!”

She must have noticed the stricken look on my face. “I’m just kidding,” she said. “I can’t blame you for everything.”

I barely heard her. They were showing pictures of the dead in the subway explosion. My blood ran cold when the image of the black woman I’d photographed yesterday flashed up on screen.

I couldn’t wait for the rest of the news. I hurried to the basement to develop the film I took … I had to be sure.

I could tell all three negatives were double exposed even before I made any prints. Nancy called down that breakfast was ready and I hung the developed film up to dry while I went upstairs. I wasn’t hungry and just poked at my eggs with my fork. Nancy told me all about the plans for Charlie’s party but I was barely listening. The small TV in the kitchen was on and they did a news update. They showed the same woman on the subway as one of the dead and when they moved to the shooting at the pharmaceutical company I almost fell out of my chair. The body of a woman lay on the concrete in front of Lansing Pharmaceuticals. She was just a lump of bloody clothes and there was no way to identify her except for the wooden sign still clutched in her hand … My daughter died because I couldn’t pay Lansing $60,000 a year! the sign read.

            My hands were shaking so bad I could barely make the enlarged prints but I did. All three photos were double exposed. The smiling black woman on the subway was overlaid by the twisted metal and shattered glass of an explosion. A close-up of the shooting victim her eyes staring into oblivion was superimposed over my demonstration photo!

I felt like a killer! Yesterday I’d taken three photographs and so far two of the people in the photos were dead. The day was about to get a whole lot worse. My cell phone rang and it was Benny. He sounded as if he were about to lay an egg or had laid one. “You need to come to my office right away!” he demanded.

            “Did you get the metal box opened?”

            “Yes,” he said after he struggled to catch his breath, “and it contained six rolls of unexposed film!”

-------5-------

            I wasn’t at all surprised when traffic was backed up in Manhattan and the cab I was riding in sat idling for over ten minutes. The driver unrolled his window to ask a passing cop what was going on. “The Dinosaur caught a bolt of lightning last night and her branches are spread all over St. Nicholas Ave.” the cop told him.  “That elm tree was over three hundred years old!”

            “I thought George Washington chopped down that tree,” the driver said when we started rolling.

            “That was a cherry tree,” I said.

When we passed the carnage, the taxi slowed way down to get a good look but I turned away. I’d seen the same double exposed image this morning in my basement darkroom. I felt like a criminal returning to the scene of the crime.

-------6-------

Benjamin Goldstein’s desk was covered with black and white prints all of them double exposed. “Hitler gave Eva Braun this camera to keep her busy while his mind was on other things,” Benny said. “She traveled to most of the countries he conquered and took lots of photos. I don’t know why they were never developed … maybe she knew something was wrong with the camera. But these photos are priceless. It’s like one giant before and after image of World War II. Look at this!” he said. He showed me a Paris Hotel overlaid with the image of the same structure in ruins. I didn’t bother to explain to Benny that Hitler’s master plan for conquering the world was laid to waste by his loyal mistress who delighted in inadvertently taking photographs of things soon to be destroyed. It was some kind of dark magic that had kept the world from being conquered by evil.

“At least two rolls of film show the German victories and later defeat at Stalingrad,” he said. “But I have no idea how she managed to get the superimposed shots. Don’t worry about looking for a job … I think we’re both gonna be rich!”

-------7-------

I spent most of the day looking at the strange photos with Benny … dozens of photos of soldiers; American soldiers, marching grim faced into battle, later captured in their moment of death. It was late afternoon when I remembered Charlie’s birthday party. I had a feeling of dread on the way home. I kept wondering if I’d loaded fresh film into the Flexaret camera when I’d developed the last roll of film. I thought that I had … for years I’d cultivated the habit of always having a camera ready to go. I offered the cab driver one hundred dollars to drive faster and I held my breath at every red light.

            Eva Braun’s camera was on the kitchen table when I ran through the door. Somehow I’d known that it would be. Most of the children had already gone. A few balloons still clung to the ceiling. “I hope you don’t mind,” Nancy said pointing to the Flexaret. “Charlie wanted a photo with me and his friends. They say your life can flash before your eyes in an instant. The blank look on my face hopefully didn’t show. It took me a lifetime to realize my home was a place of joy … and this was going to be a happy time.

            “No that’s okay,” I told her. “In fact I’d like a photo of all of us together. I handed the camera to one of the mothers who came to pick up her child and I pulled my wife and child close and I smiled as she took the photograph.

Some things are far more important than money … and are everlasting.

THE END ???