September 4, 2025

THE HAMMER FILES: War Room Setup

Jack Hammer06 mins
A gritty, grayscale cartoon in a classic film noir style shows a man named Jack Hammer, wearing a trench coat and fedora, meticulously assembling a high-end camera with a telephoto lens on a tripod in a cramped, dimly lit hotel room. A gritty, grayscale cartoon in a classic film noir style shows a man named Jack Hammer, wearing a trench coat and fedora, meticulously assembling a high-end camera with a telephoto lens on a tripod in a cramped, dimly lit hotel room.
This entry is part 11 of 16 in the series Chapter 1: The Case of December's Debt.

The Arrival

It was 2 a.m., the night before the game. A beat-up cab coughed me out in the alley behind the fleabag hotel. The streets were empty, but my eyes scanned the shadows. My one large trunk felt heavy as I climbed the dim, grimy back stairway. My keys jingled as I unlocked the door. I nudged the trunk inside, then hung the “Do Not Disturb” sign, locking the door tight. The curtains were drawn. I flipped the light switch and the single bulb flickered to a jaundiced glow. I scanned the room: a single bed, an uncomfortable-looking chair, a small side table, and a tiny bath. I walked into the bathroom, cracked the hot water on slightly, stepped back into the room, set my trunk on the bed, and opened it.

Tools of the Trade

Inside, nestled amongst layers of foam, were my tools of the trade. My two cameras, both as finely crafted as a Rolex and just as expensive. One held a wide lens that could capture an entire city block, the other a telephoto lens sharp enough to lift fingerprints off the grimy steel door across the street. There were ten tins of fifty-shot film, each roll a hundred-dollar gamble, and half a dozen filters. Filters to let light in, filters to keep light out, and filters to keep prying eyes from catching reflections. Two tripods, their necks twisting into knots, lay beside them.

Settling In

A coffee cup and a jar of instant lay ready. I went back to check the hot water; it was good. I returned to my supplies: some ready-to-eat rations, two packs of smokes, and a pint of bourbon. Yeah, I had to be on the ball tomorrow, but tonight, I was getting a little shuteye. I set up my equipment, sat in the uncomfortable chair facing the door, sipped my bourbon, and drifted into a dreamy half-sleep.

Thinking of Jamie

My mind drifted from the room and my own meticulous prep, to Jamie. I imagined him, getting ready for the game the only way he knew how—by laying his cards down and cleaning out the house. He was the kind of guy who didn’t need cameras and lenses; he had a photographic mind of his own, and he’d figure his odds the instant the cards hit the table. That’s why we made a good team: I handled the grunt work, and he handled the finesse.

The Watch is Running Backwards

The restless night and bourbon kept me in bed until 9:00. That was a blessing. I got out of bed and splashed some water on my face. The morning stubble would have to stay there for now. I gave my equipment the once-over. Out the window, the six a.m. morning rumble of work traffic that had kept me falling in and out of sleep had slowed to a crawl. I went back to the rusty sink tap and made a mug of Joe. The water was hot. Real hot. “Two blessings today,” I thought. “Could be my lucky day.” I had a few more cups of mud and made breakfast out of the sweet rolls I had packed. The hours seemed to have ground to a halt. I played a little solitaire with the deck I had packed. Two o’clock crawled by. Then three. The room next door had a radio. I could hear it just fine through the paper-thin walls. Four o’clock sauntered by. “Jesus,” I thought. “The watch is running backward.”

At five o’clock, the tire growl in the street was back up to a full roar, and I began testing, focusing, setting, fine-tuning. Making sure everything was perfect. It had to be. Keeping busy started the clock moving again. Ten p.m. is game time. I’ll be ready. “What about you, Jamie Diamond?”

Series Navigation<< THE HAMMER FILES: A Deal with DiamondTHE HAMMER FILES: A Hand of Trouble >>

Chapter 1: The Case of December's Debt.

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