“Coach, why did you collect a folder on Peter Mitchelli?”
“My wife made me check on him from time to time, I asked the principal and players how he was doing. Momma and I kept an eye on him. He was a model student, well-liked, had a cute girlfriend; I think he ended up marrying her.” The coach stared out of the window as he spoke, “His younger brother told me he went on to college. A couple years ago I think I saw him at a movie with his family, you know the wife and kids. The family owns some real estate, they have a pretty good business I hear.” He looked at MacJames. “So he hasn’t killed anyone, is that right?”
MacJames put her notebook in her briefcase. “Coach, you can sleep well with a guilt free conscience.”
“No good sideline to sideline, but I knew he was a good boy, I knew it.”
Her interview with the coach had eased her suspicions regarding Mitchelli’s past, at the expense of Coach Randy’s conscience. Pleased with herself, she decided to take the long way back to the office. She drove around the city on the expressway so she could view the Niagara River as she drove downtown. Her mind wandered from her first meeting with Mitchelli, to the dinner in Quantico with the Secretary, to nursing him after the training incident, and finally to their romance on his boat. As she drove along the river, she looked out into the bluish green water visualizing the route Time Raider had taken to get to the lake. She thought of how Kaitlin welcomed her aboard. MacJames smiled, remembering how Mitchelli manipulated Coarseni and his daughter, bringing them closer together navigating the boat through the river. Their dinner date had been fantastical, even though Mitchelli had comingled his government job with their time at the bar. She enjoyed learning more and more about the quiet man’s personality. Mitchelli continued to amaze MacJames; he could switch up, change gears from quiet and reserved to chasing a possible suspect out of a bar, grabbing her cigarette right out of her mouth, and listening to her phone conversation. Who are you Peter Mitchelli?
Last night they had made love. It was relaxed, casually loving, which was rare for the first time two people are intimate. Mitchelli had been gentle and romantic. MacJames’s face, especially her eyes, had attracted him, not her voluptuous figure. He had looked into her eyes and studied her face, rather than staring at her chest. He had studied her face as though afraid it would be erased from his mind. He didn’t grope; he touched her softly. The big man was sensitive and consistently caring when it came to MacJames. Regardless of her persistent concerns regarding his relationship with Handly, her emotions exploded thinking of their passion last night on the boat.
When they had first met, MacJames could recognize Mitchelli’s stress. His nightmare the night before only substantiated her concerns regarding his mental well-being. MacJames had grown deeply in love with Mitchelli and she wanted him off the case she gotten him involved in. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. Her emotions ran wild on the drive into the city. She felt like a schoolgirl in love. Angela, get hold of yourself you must be going through menopause. She fantasized about their future together. She even contemplated retiring to be with him and his children. At forty-five she didn’t have many opportunities left to take her chance at true love. She could not let him get hurt. He needed to be there for his children, and selfishly, for her. Her lust for love clouded her concerns regarding her love’s background.
***
Freed sat hunched over, his elbows perched on top of his desk and his hands covered his face. Pat Moss and Coarseni walked in his office and sat down in two chairs in front of his desk.
“Bob, you ok? That butchered scumbag get your stomach upset or what? I had problems sleeping.”
Freed moved his hands away from his face and sat back in his chair. “I had our MIS people scan the entire office e-mail system for keys words pertaining to the murder of that scumbag. Words like Marauder, Raider, you know, the pirate theme. It seems the office that I’m so proud of has been having a little fun with our special operative Peter Mitchelli.” Freed looked at Coarseni and picked up a stack of papers. “It seems Angela MacJames has been thrown under the bus as well. Dom, I couldn’t correlate why the office tagged her as the ‘Baltimore Whore.’ Then I research the name Marauder as it pertained to the B-26 bomber.” Freed looked at Moss. “The B-26, also known as the Marauder, was difficult to land, it seems her frustrated pilots nicknamed her the ‘Baltimore Whore,’ because that is where the plane was made.” Freed picked up an e-mail and read aloud, “‘Marauder’s banging the Baltimore Whore, it seems his big gun has melted the senior ice-witch’s…’ I’m not going to read the rest of it. I’ve worked with Angela for twelve years. She’s become a close friend. Even going through her third difficult divorce, she was unwavering with her loyalty to her staff and the bureau. I counted fifty e-mails which slandered her career, let alone her personal life.” Coarseni’s eyes stared at the floor; he could not look at Freed. “Dom, oh you had some beauties ripping Angela’s relationship apart with Peter, even after I asked you to cut her some slack. Do you want to read them aloud, Dom?”
Coarseni lifted his head, “Bob, they were sent in jest, you know I like Angela and the big guy. I told you last night there was interoffice chatter, we were just having a little fun.”
Freed slammed the papers down on the desk. “A little god damn fun! That little fun could get people killed, agents killed, Angela killed, and our damn civilian who was dumb enough to sign up for this circus act killed! Peter Mitchelli’s name, our secret civilian operative was mentioned in twenty-three of the unclassified e-mails.” Freed looked at Coarseni and yelled in disgust, “Dom, do you want to tell his kids, you know, the ones you went to the beach with that your little office chit-chat got their father killed, gutted like that scumbag last night?”
“Bob, I’m sorry, we got carried away--”
Freed interrupted Coarseni, “Carried away? It became an interoffice obsession, Dom! Pat, did you know this was going on?”
Moss looked at Coarseni and then at Freed. “Before Mitchelli got shot, I thought it was harmless,” he said. “It lifted the office morale. Bob, I only saw a handful of messages…”
“A handful, Pat, there are over two hundred. I’m afraid to have MIS track Mitchelli’s name to see how many times that pops up.” Freed sat down at his desk. “Maybe I should have seen this coming, when Marauder beat the hell out of those training officers.” Freed looked at Moss and Coarseni both had queer smirks on their faces. “Did I just refer to Mitchelli as the Marauder? I must be losing it; maybe you’re right, Pat. I should take some time off. Mitchelli the Marauder, my god Pat did you think we’d get so far this fast? I sure as hell didn’t. I sure as hell wouldn’t have said so three weeks ago.”
Moss attempted to console Freed. “Stuart was right, Bob. The investigation was stalled. I don’t like recruiting a civilian anymore than you. We needed someone from outside the investigation, whose mind was free from our parochial governmental thought process.”
“Geez, look what we got! Liberated from our parochial governmental thought process. You should’ve seen this guy in action with this blonde last night, what a Casanova.” Coarseni put his palms up. “He’s a frickin’ anomaly, one in a billion superstar.”
Freed calmed down. “Dom, I’ve seen him in action, he saved my life. God, we have to protect his family. He’s told me that he can’t, he’ll go manic after his attackers, and I’m starting to believe him. I have to keep him under control for his own safety. Pat, I want these e-mails stopped dead, get it Dom? Dead--no more, no Marauder, no Mitchelli, no MacJames, nothing. Do you hear me?”
Both men responded, “Load and clear.”
“I have to brief Angela and Peter on Kazz’s murder, the message carved into him and review the security squad covering the Mitchelli children.” Freed pointed his finger at Coarseni. “Dom, you got the security system under control at the boat and house, right?”
“The cameras went operational two hours ago, one on the boat, and two on the house. Both are cellular, state of the art
stuff.”
“Pat, who’s in charge of the security team?”
“Tom Hoss just finished a blue collar investigation that went nowhere, he’s free.”
Coarseni moved his head side to side. “He’s a prick. Marauder’s going to be pissed. I mean, Mitchelli’s not going to like it.”
“Dom, give the guy a break,” Moss quickly responded.
***
Freed met with Mitchelli and MacJames prior to the security meeting to brief them on the murder of Kazz. Mitchelli and MacJames sat across from each other in a small FBI conference with Freed at the head of the table. MacJames sat across from Mitchelli, hoping the distance from him would prevent her from affectionately touching him. MacJames had decided to keep their personal relationship out of the office.
Freed came clean and told them of Kazz’s murder, including the Marauder’s Next carving in Kazz’s gut. Buffalo PD sent the crime scene photos to the bureau late that morning. They were gruesome. Mitchelli stared at the photos as Freed spoke. At first Mitchelli flipped through the photos like large playing cards; until he found the photo of the message left on Kazz’s gut. He patiently stared at every photo, remembering his sole encounter with Kazz at the bar on the Buffalo River. Mitchelli’s mind a projector, going back in time as it had done so many times before. Kazz was in his cheap dated suit, arrogantly evading and toying with Buckala’s questions. He was on top of the world. Mitchelli could smell the bar; taste his Jack Daniel’s as though it was touching his lips. Freed droned on while Mitchelli stared at the photos, often closing his eyes going back in time to the bar on the river.
“Peter, we think you’re the Marauder.” Freed bent over towards Mitchelli as he told him and watched patiently for his reaction.
“Bob, what are you talking about?” MacJames quickly asked.
Mitchelli answered before Freed had a chance, “That’s what your fellow bureau employees call me, one of many names: Italian contractor, Mafia, Raider, Marauder.” Mitchelli continued to stare at the photos.
Freed was shocked again by Mitchelli’s uncanny knowledge. “Peter, how the hell do you know that? I had MIS search the e-mail files this morning. I just found out for Christ sake.” Freed looked at MacJames. “Angela, did you know?”
MacJames kept her cool. “Bob, I still don’t know what either one of you are talking about. Will someone fill me in?”
MacJames fought the urge to reach across the table and grab Mitchelli. She wanted to plead with him to get out of town with his children. Freed held nothing back; he gave it to Mitchelli straight up. MacJames watched as Mitchelli’s shoulders dropped after every sentence. MacJames read his face; she could see the migraine brewing. Before Freed finished, Mitchelli was rubbing his forehead from the pain. He glanced briefly at MacJames unable to see her eyes. He wanted to get lost in her eyes and forget his voluntary nightmare he could never wake up from. Ann’s voice kept ringing in his mind. What have done to our children, what have you done? You jeopardized our children.
Mitchelli stared at the pictures while Freed cautiously continued. “Since the video of Peter mopping the floor with the combat instructors leaked out of Quantico, he has grown into an interoffice legend of sorts. His performance at the grain elevator has catapulted his status in the office. It seems our fellow workers have been quite obsessed with adding to the Mitchelli, well the Marauder legacy. Coarseni believes the office gossip has leaked out, somehow to Kazz’s killers. We’re hoping all they have is Marauder and not any specific details, like Peter’s real name.”
“Why didn’t you tell me last night?” Mitchelli looked at MacJames, Have fun kids. He recalled their conversation concerning Freed’s uncharacteristic comment.
“I didn’t want to unnecessarily alarm you. Peter, we’re still not sure; the only one that seems to be convinced is Coarseni. An internal affairs team arrived this morning from Quantico to begin an investigation to find the possible source of the leaked information. Your kids are safe and we’ve added surveillance cameras at your house and boat. Your family has a security team around the clock, as I promised. They’re keeping their distance not to alarm them, I’ll guaranty your family’s safe.” MacJames couldn’t take her eyes off Mitchelli; she was speechless. Both she and Freed braced themselves, worried Mitchelli would explode with a verbal lashing. Mitchelli closed his eyes; he had to stay calm and think. He had to convince himself to trust Freed and his crew of agents, and his boss, MacJames.
He struggled to open his eyes and look at Angela. His eyes barely open, his right hand trembled as it came to rest on the table. “Ok, Angela, tell me are my kids safe?”
MacJames wanted to reach across the table but fought the urge but she had to resist. She was the professional. She looked at Freed, then at Mitchelli. “I’ve known Bob along time,” she said. “His word is his bond, his promise solid. He won’t let you down, or your kids.” Freed looked at MacJames with gratitude and smiled at her.
“Peter, you’re the Secretary of Homeland Security’s all-star,” she continued. Stuart will stop at nothing to make sure your family is safe. He has promised you that and directed me to make happen. However, you have to work with us and not against us. This isn’t a one-man crusade. Help us keep you safe.” She stopped and looked at Freed before finally relenting and reaching across the table to grab Mitchelli’s trembling hand. “I need you to listen to us, Peter.”
Freed assured Mitchelli and MacJames he was doing everything possible to protect his family, short of relocating them out of town.
MacJames asked all the questions. Mitchelli could not focus, let alone speak. He listened intently as Freed ran through the details. There was no one to blame, no one but himself and his obsession to finish a job at any cost. Mitchelli’s Mind Kill was working at full power and MacJames knew it. Freed had his assistant bring in some water and aspirin. He didn’t bother to ask Mitchelli if he needed any. Freed shocked MacJames when he swallowed the aspirin and drank the water; the stress was getting to him.
Moss, Coarseni, Buckala, and Tom Hoss entered the room to review the security team that was responsible for Mitchelli’s family with him. Mitchelli moved down so Moss could sit next to Freed and Coarseni sat next to Mitchelli. On the opposite side of the table, Hoss sat across from Mitchelli, and Buckala sat next to MacJames. Moss began to explain the security procedures and shifts. During this brief explanation, Hoss kept texting, annoyingly fiddling with his phone. The phone looked like a toy in Hoss’s huge hands. He was six-foot-five, two hundred and fifty pounds, with brushcut blonde hair. He had the body of an amateur body builder.
Moss stopped his discussion and asked Hoss to focus and not use his phone during the meeting. “I’m sorry, Pat,” Hoss apologized. “My agent is texting me; I have a match in Jersey this weekend. It’s big, I’m going to be on TV.”
The group was annoyed. Mitchelli had been barely paying attention until Hoss’s comment. Moss continued his discussion, while Hoss punched away at the keys of his phone, texting. Mitchelli looked sternly at Hoss, and then at Freed.
Freed waited several minutes then yelled at Hoss, “Get off your damn phone!” Freed was embarrassed by his lack of professionalism, especially after he reassured Mitchelli his family would be safe.
Mitchelli closed his eyes rubbing them with his fingers. He then put his hands over his face for several minutes. His actions went unnoticed by everyone but MacJames. She had read his face and knew his mind was boiling over thinking about his family being in harm’s way.
Suddenly, a beautiful brunette walked into the conference room unnoticed by everyone. Mitchelli glanced at the striking woman. At first, he thought it was an assistant bringing more aspirin for Freed. The woman sat down one chair away from Hoss. Mitchelli rubbed his eyes while straining to look at the attractive woman expecting to see a new Special Agent. He was relieved she was not holding a cell phone in her delicate hands. He noticed her hands and her medium skin tone. As he lifted his head, her face caught his attention. Mitchelli was overw
helmed with her beauty, then his heart raced with joy.
“You look terrible; you haven’t been taking care of yourself again.” Ann studied his face gently shaking her head. “You’ve lost weight although you always had an easy time getting back into shape.”
Mitchelli wanted to talk; he desperately wanted to tell Ann how much he missed her. But he could not move, his body frozen, as though poisoned with an exotic African drug that left him paralyzed. His conscience and senses were fully functional but he was immobilized. He closed his eyes for a moment, as he smelled her perfume. Her hair was pulled back into a low ponytail. His vision was affected by his migraine, and he strained to see her beautiful light brown eyes.
“Peter, it looks like your plans to simplify our lives haven’t gone very well. Although, I never believed you could go to this extreme, push yourself so far this fast. Just like me, the government never saw you coming. You fooled them too, who would have suspected the Mitchelli Typhoon? What do your fellow G-men call you? Mitchelli the Marauder. Please tell me that didn’t surprise you. I’m stunned your family didn’t think of that nickname first.”
The pressure increased in Mitchelli’s chest; his heart fluttered and the pain in his head pressed against his skull as Ann continued, “This second job seems to be a little more dangerous than you expected. The training brawl; shot twice and nearly bled to death. Know you’re number one on the Mafia’s kill list. That’s quite the accomplishment for a single father with two children. You’d better make sure these so-called experts can protect your family; they sure as hell couldn’t protect themselves. Excuse me, haven’t they lost twenty-one agents?”
Mind Kill- Rise of the Marauder Page 31