Jackson knelt down. “You look surprised, but I assure you I’m very adept at this. Powders, creams, latex, hairpieces, spirit gum, putty. It really is amazing what one can do, even if it is all an illusion of sorts. Besides, in your case it wasn’t all that difficult. I don’t mean this in a negative way, but you have quite an ordinary face. I didn’t have to do anything special and I’ve been studying your features for several days now. You did surprise me by shaving off your beard, though. However, instead of beard we have beard stubble courtesy of crepe hair and adhesive.”
He grabbed Donovan under his armpits and lifted him up to the couch and sat down across from him. The groggy journalist listed to one side. Jackson gently propped him up with a pillow.
“It certainly wouldn’t pass the closest of scrutiny; however, the result isn’t bad for a half hour’s work.”
“I need to get to a doctor.” Donovan managed to get the words out through blood-caked lips.
“I’m afraid that’s not going to happen. But I will take a couple of minutes to explain some things to you. For what it’s worth, I believe that I owe you that. You were quite ingenious in figuring out the bankruptcy angle. That, I admit, had never occurred to me. My main concern was to ensure that none of my winners would want for money. Any shortage of funds might give them motivation to tell all. Fat and happy people rarely double-cross their benefactor. You found the hole in that plan.”
Donovan coughed and, with a sudden motion, managed to sit up straight. “How’d you pick up my trail?”
“I knew LuAnn would tell you basically nothing. What would you do next? Ferret out another source. I phoned all my other winners and alerted them that you might call. Ten of them I instructed to blow you off. I told Bobbie Jo — excuse me, Roberta — to meet with you.”
“Why her?”
“Simple enough. Geographically, she was the closest one to me. As it is, I had to drive through the night to get here and set everything up. That was me in the Mercedes, by the way. I had a description of you. I thought that was you in the car watching the house.”
“Where’s Bobbie Jo?”
“Not relevant.” Jackson smiled both in his eagerness to explain and in his triumph and total control over the veteran reporter. “Now, to continue. The substance applied to nine of the ten balls was a clear light acrylic. If you care for precise details, it was a diluted solution of polydimethyl siloxane that I made a few modifications to, a turbocharged version if you will. It builds up a powerful static charge and also increases the size of the ball by approximately one thousandth of an inch without, however, a measurable change in weight or appearance or even smell. They do weigh the balls, you know, to ensure that all are of equal weight. In each bin the ball with the winning number on it had no chemicals applied to it. Each passageway through which the winning ball must travel was given a small trace of the modified polydimethyl siloxane solution as well. Under those precisely controlled conditions, the nine balls with the static charge could not enter a passageway coated with the same substance; indeed, they repelled each other, much like a force field. Thus they could not be part of the winning combination. Only the uncoated ball would be able to do so.”
The awe was clear on Donovan’s face, but then his features clouded. “Wait a minute: If the nine balls were coated with the same charge, why wouldn’t they be repelling each other in the bin? Wouldn’t that make people suspicious?”
“Wonderful question. I thrive on the details. I further modified the chemical so that it would be instantly activated by the heat given off by the air flow into the machines to make the balls gyrate. Until then, the balls would remain motionless.”
Jackson paused, his eyes shining. “Inferior minds seek convoluted scenarios; it takes a brilliant one to achieve simplicity. And I’m sure your background research revealed that all of my winners were poor, desperate, searching for a little hope, a little help. And I gave it to them. To all of you. The lottery loved it. The government looked like saints helping the impoverished like that. You people in the media got to write your teary-eyed stories. Everybody won. Including me.” Donovan half expected the man to take a bow.
“And you did this all by your lonesome?” Donovan sneered.
Jackson’s retort was sharp. “I didn’t need anyone else, other than my winners. Human beings are infinitely fallible, completely unreliable. Science is not. Science is absolute. Under strict principles, if you do A and B, then C will occur. That rarely happens if you inject the inefficiencies of humanity into the process.”
“How’d you get the access?” Donovan was starting to slur his words as his injuries took their toll.
Jackson’s smile broadened. “I was able to gain employment as a technician at the company that provided and maintained the ball machines. I was drastically overqualified for the position, which was one reason I got it. No one really cared about the geeky little techie, it was like I wasn’t even there. But I had complete and unrestricted access to the machines. I even bought one of the ball machines so that I could experiment in private as to the right combinations of chemicals. So there I am, mister technician, spraying the balls with what everyone thought was a cleansing solution to get rid of dust and other grime that might have gotten into the bins. And all I had to do was hold the winning ball in my hand while I did so. The solution dries almost immediately. I surreptitiously drop the winning ball back into the bin and I’m all set.”
Jackson laughed. “People really should respect the technicians of the world more, Mr. Donovan. They control everything because they control the machines that control the flow of information. In fact, I use many of them in my work. I didn’t need to buy off the leaders. They’re useless because they’re incompetent showpieces. Give me the worker bees any day.”
Jackson stood up and put on a pair of thick gloves. “I think that covers everything,” he said. “Now, after I finish with you, I’m going to visit LuAnn.”
Damn me for a fool for not listening to you, LuAnn,
Donovan thought to himself.
Through the glove Jackson rubbed his injured hand where the glass had cut him. He had many paybacks planned for LuAnn.
“Piece of advice, A-hole,” Donovan sputtered, “tangle with that woman and she’ll cut your balls off.”
“Thank you for your point of view.” Jackson gripped Donovan tightly by the shoulders.
“Why’re you keeping me alive, you son of a bitch?” Donovan tried to pull back from him, but was far too weak.
“Actually, I’m not.” Jackson suddenly placed both hands around the sides of Donovan’s head and gave it an abrupt twist. The sound of bone cracking was slight but unmistakable. Jackson lifted the dead man up and over his shoulder. Carrying him down to the garage, Jackson opened the front door of the Mercedes and pressed Donovan’s fingers against the steering wheel, dash, clock, and several other surfaces that would leave good prints. Finally, Jackson clinched the dead man’s hand around the gun he had used to kill Bobbie Jo Reynolds. Wrapping the body in a blanket, Jackson loaded it in the trunk of the Mercedes. He raced back into the house, retrieved his bag and Donovan’s recorder, then returned to the garage and climbed behind the wheel of the Mercedes. In a few minutes the car had left the very quiet neighborhood behind. Jackson stopped by the side of the road, rolled down the window, and hurled the gun into the woods before pulling off again. Jackson would wait until nightfall and then a certain local incinerator he had found on an earlier reconnaissance would prove to be Thomas Donovan’s final resting place.