The maid didn’t say anything about the odd name and ushered him into a lavishly decorated study, its walls lined with bookshelves and its windows hung with heavy, expensive draperies. After about ten minutes, Benjamin strode in to greet him.
“Hello, Mr. Ripper,” he said. “You’re here on family business? I can’t think what about.”
The Zodiac shook Benjamin’s hand and then made the secret Illuminati hand signal. Benjamin nodded in acknowledgement that he understood and that they could now speak openly.
“Perhaps you have been told about me,” the Zodiac started. “I hope you have, or otherwise you will not believe my story. You see, I am your great-grandfather—I came to America a long time ago under less than ideal circumstances.”
“Jack Ripper,” Benjamin muttered in disbelief. “Oh my God…I never quite believed those stories.”
“They are true,” said the Zodiac. “I go by a different name now in a different city, and I have left my family alone; I did not think the Illuminati would look kindly upon me having anything to do with you, especially after your grandfather did so well for himself in business and was invited to join the ranks of the secret society. Now, though, I don’t have anyone to turn to. I need help.”
Benjamin’s face grew stony. “Are you really the monster they say you are?” he asked. “I’ve read the secret files—the things you did are disgusting, and to innocent women!”
“Oh, those women were not so innocent,” the Zodiac scoffed. “And everything I did, I did under the orders of the Illuminati. If you believe its leaders are any less ruthless today when they have a goal in mind, then you’re a fool.”
“What do you want?” Benjamin asked. “I’m a busy man. Let’s not drag this out.”
“I need money,” said the Zodiac. “I have to leave town.”
Benjamin laughed coldly. “You show up here out of the blue and expect me to help you because your blood runs in my veins? I believe I am descended from you, and the Illuminati would love to get its hands on that oil that keeps you young; yes, they know about it. But I won’t give you a dime—you’re a murderer. Now get out of my house!”
The Zodiac grew hot with rage. “Do you know who I am? Do you know what I can do?” he asked, raising his voice.
“I know who you are, and I don’t care what you can do,” Benjamin answered. “If you need cash, you’d better go rob a bank and get the money to leave town that way. And don’t you dare come back here—you can be sure I’ll let the Illuminati know you were here, and eyes all over America will be watching for you!”
Benjamin took the Zodiac by the elbow and escorted him firmly to the door, slamming it behind him. The Zodiac was so angry he barely recalled getting into his car; it wasn’t until his mind cleared several hours later that he realized he had put Arkansas far behind him. When he finally reached his small apartment, his anger had faded into shame and frustration. People have no loyalty anymore, he thought to himself. What was I thinking, driving all the way to Arkansas? Family doesn’t mean anything to people anymore, not like it used to. No matter how many of my descendants end up here, I’ll still be completely on my own.
Then he thought back to Benjamin’s harsh words—the suggestion hadn’t been a terrible idea. He would rob a bank and leave town. He removed his gun from its hiding spot on the top shelf of the closet and packed two old gym bags with clothes and a few other personal items. He also had his vials of youth serum, which he packed in a carry-on suitcase. His most precious possession, though, was a planter full of live astralagus. He had nurtured the small patch of greenery for decades now to ensure he never ran out of youth. He would pack that tightly in the passenger seat so it wouldn’t tumble over while he drove. It was time to move on. He had been around a long time and intended to be around a long time more. He sat and wrote out a note to give to a bank officer:
You are being robbed. Do not press the emergency button. Do not look alarmed, or I will kill you. Go to your vault and gather the money…all twenty-dollar bills and hurry. If you tell anyone, then I will shoot your coworkers. Be back in five minutes.
He thought that would do it. If the teller did as he was told, nobody would be hurt. It wasn’t like the Zodiac was cleaning the bank out or like anyone who had an account there would actually lose anything. He just needed enough cash to make an escape, and he would decide what to do after that. It made him a little nervous; it would be degrading to be caught for robbery of all things, but he didn’t see any other choice. He would need enough gas money to drive far, far away, as well as enough money to live on until he could land another steady job. Where will I go? Mexico maybe, he wondered. He would think on that tonight. He would make his appearance at the bank the next morning as soon as it opened and take the tellers by surprise before they even had their morning coffee.
He finished his bourbon and felt the warmth of the liquor spool loosely through him. He went to bed. It was too bad he would have to cut his game with Holmes short, but he had no doubt they would tangle again one day. For now, let the great detective continue his searching. Holmes and the police would eventually find the Zodiac’s empty apartment and would know, but it would be too late. The Zodiac would already have changed his name and his style of murder and would be terrorizing a new town. He had to kill—he wasn’t truly alive unless he could experience that thrill. He lay in bed most of the night, going over his plan. When dawn broke, he dressed in a suit and clip-on tie and sat patiently at his kitchen table, waiting for the bank to open.
Chapter 20
The Bank
The bank president, Mr. Jennings, read the note and slowly looked up at the man sitting on the other side of his desk. The fellow sitting in front of him looked like any other bank customer. Mr. Jennings tried to memorize his face for future reference. He would do as he was told because he would not put any of his employees in danger. The police could catch this robber when he left. He knew the guards would not notice a man leaving with a briefcase; they would assume he was a businessman, just like the hundreds of others who came into the bank every day.
Mr. Jennings rose and picked up the briefcase as he headed for the vault. A teller was working in the vault, and she knew immediately by the pale look on Mr. Jennings’s face that something was wrong.
“What happened, sir?” she asked. “What can I do?”
“The bank is being robbed,” he whispered. “We’re to fill this briefcase as quickly as possible. I don’t want anyone in my bank to get hurt. We’ll call the police once he’s gone.”
Without another word, the teller started to hand Mr. Jennings stacks of crisp, banded bills. When the briefcase was full, he buckled it shut and walked calmly back to his desk. The man smiled. Mr. Jennings smiled. They shook hands.
“Don’t call anyone for fifteen minutes,” the stranger warned him. “If you do, I’ll find a way to make you very sorry.”
The Zodiac strolled out of the bank with his briefcase, keeping his face blank and his stride full of purpose. He looked over his shoulder and saw that everything looked normal—business as usual. As soon as he crossed the street, he hastened his steps. He walked quickly down alleys, staying off of the main roads until he reached his car.
As he began to drive toward the freeway, he was filled with the irrational fear that he would never be able to drive fast enough to elude Holmes. “I’ll catch a plane somewhere,” he said out loud to himself. “I hate to lose the car, but it’s better than losing my freedom. I won’t fly from here, though. I need to cover my tracks.” A few hours later, he arrived at the Los Angeles airport. He consolidated his belongings down to one duffel bag and a carry-on suitcase; He cradled the astralagus plant in the crook of his arm. Inside, he approached a ticket agent.
“I need a ticket to Washington.”
“Well, sir, what city?”
“Seattle.”
“I have one that will leave within the hour. You will be permitted to board the Boeing seven-twenty-seven thirty minutes before takeoff,
so you will even have time to get a bite to eat,” the cheery ticket agent said.
“That’s fine,” said the Zodiac as he reached down to the duffel bag and took out some money. “I will be paying cash.”
“Of course, sir.”
He tucked the ticket into his pocket and made his way to the nearest fast-food joint, where he ordered a cup of coffee. He then went to his gate and sat among the other passengers, waiting to board.
If they only knew who I am, he thought, they wouldn’t be sitting here so calmly.
He sat quietly in a corner and looked casually around—no one was watching him. He reached into the duffel bag and tried to count his money without pulling any of it out. There was not a lot, maybe ten thousand dollars. That would not be enough for him to live on for very long. He needed more, and robbing the bank had been so easy he didn’t see why he should ever work a traditional job again. A plan struck him, and he tried to keep a smirk off of his face. Yes, he would hijack the plane and demand a ransom. Then he would go to Mexico, where the American authorities couldn’t touch him.
He looked around at the other passengers, trying to see if anyone would be a threat to him. Several older passengers were on the flight, a couple of families with small children, and some young adults, but there was no one who, he thought, would give him any trouble. He was going to carry on his luggage so it would be safe. Nobody would look in it. Since he was still in his suit, he appeared to be a business traveler and not at all like a monstrous serial killer who had traveled, immortal, through the years. Nobody would ever think that. These fellow travelers were all going about their day, not knowing what was in store for them. It would be a very interesting day for everyone concerned. He couldn’t wait to let Holmes know of his latest adventure. He had decided he wanted the detective on his trail again. The thought gave him a rush.
He had to force himself to sit still—his leg wanted to jiggle, and his heart was beating faster with a mix of nerves and excitement. His assigned seat was F2, which was the only seat occupied in his row.
The plane looked like it would be fairly empty as passengers slowly filed in, putting their luggage in the overhead or under their feet. The Zodiac sat calmly, watching the different people and trying to guess what they did for a living. He hoped his plan would go right.
He thought of the gun he had wrapped in a sock that lay in his suitcase. He was glad the security officers had not gone through the bag; he must have looked trustworthy. He would go to the bathroom when the plane had reached its cruising altitude and transfer the weapon to his jacket pocket. He would have to move quickly for his plan to work.
Finally the doors closed. The stewardesses showed everyone how the oxygen masks worked and where the exits were. The engines roared into action, and everyone was told to fasten their seatbelts. The wheels started to roll. It wouldn’t be long before they would be off of the ground, and the Zodiac would be home free.
The plane took off without a hitch, and they were gliding through the air with the greatest of ease. The Zodiac got up, carrying his duffel bag, and went to the bathroom. He pulled out the gun and slipped it into his suit pocket. Now the fun would begin.
Chapter 21
The Flight
The Zodiac knew he had to move swiftly. He exited the bathroom and walked toward his seat. A stewardess passed him in the aisle, and he grabbed her hand and pressed a note into her palm. Confused and startled, she unrolled the bit of paper and read it. I have a bomb—tell the captain. And don’t try any funny business—I also have a gun.
The stewardess went pale and sank into the seat beside him, visibly trembling.
“Let me walk you to the front,” the Zodiac said softly, annoyed at her lack of discretion. “You look sick. Perhaps you should tell the captain you don’t feel well.”
They walked slowly down the aisle toward the door to the cockpit, which stood open; the pilots sat inside in front of rows of blinking buttons and flashing lights. The passengers paid no attention to the Zodiac and the stewardess as the two passed by.
The woman stood at the cockpit door and made a soft coughing noise.
“Janet, is everything all right?” the copilot asked.
“No,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
They then noticed the man with the case.
“What do you want?” the captain asked the Zodiac.
The stewardess handed the captain the note and stood silently as he read it.
“I also want two hundred thousand dollars in unmarked bills and three parachutes,” the Zodiac said. “So get on the radio and get things started, or I will start shooting passengers.”
“You’ll get off this plane with that money over my dead body,” said the captain.
“Don’t be so hasty to predict the future.” The Zodiac smiled. “Now, do as I say.”
The captain picked up the radio transmitter and started contacting Seattle. “This is Northwest Orient Airlines, Flight three oh five. We need immediate assistance.”
“Come in, Flight three oh five.”
“We are in the middle of a hijacking.”
“Say again.”
“We are being hijacked. This man demands two hundred thousand dollars in unmarked bills and three parachutes. He says he has a gun and a bomb. If you do not comply, he will shoot the passengers.”
The man on the other end of the radio went to work. He called the FBI and made arrangements for the airlines to gather the money. The parachutes were no problem. It took about an hour, but finally the arrangements were made.
“How will you get the money if we land and the FBI swarms around this plane?” the pilot asked, his voice laced with anger. “You’ll never be able to escape.”
“Keep on course for Seattle and land as planned,” the Zodiac said. “I’ll give you further instructions then.”
It was a very tense flight for the pilots and Janet, though the passengers were still unaware of the danger they faced.
“Don’t take the plane to the gate,” the Zodiac said. “I’ll be letting the passengers off here on the runway, and I expect the money and the parachutes to be brought to the stairs. The crew must stay on. If I see any of you trying to leave, I will shoot you and two passengers for each of you who tries to escape.”
The plane landed without incident, taxied close to the airport, and then stopped as the Zodiac had told the pilot to do.
The Zodiac got on the radio. “Have someone set the money and parachutes at the foot of the stairs and walk away. I will send someone after them.”
It took about fifteen minutes, but finally the FBI brought out the parachutes and the money and walked back to the airport.
He had Janet open the door and told the two passengers sitting in the front row to go down and carry back the money and parachutes. By now, the other passengers knew something was wrong, and loud whispering swept through the cabin.
“No need for alarm,” the captain announced over the speaker. “Leave the plane in an orderly fashion. You’re all safe. You’ll all be fine.” The captain knew none of his crew would try to leave and put others in danger.
The Zodiac went down the length of the plane and shut all of the window shades, wary of letting the FBI know his location through the plane glass.
“How do you expect to walk off this tarmac without getting caught?” the copilot asked. “Your plan seems a foolish one, sir.”
“That’s the next step,” answered the Zodiac. “Give me the radio again. I’ll need a hopper plane full of gas driven up to the stairs,” he said into the device. “And I’ll be taking this stewardess as my shield and this pilot as my insurance, so if you shoot at me or try to trick me in any way, their blood is on your hands.”
It was a tense half hour until a small plane motored up beside the larger jet and angled close to the steps. The Zodiac could see a full contingent of FBI and SWAT officers a distance away and dressed in protective body armor—all were holding wicked-looking guns.
“Let’s
go,” he said, gesturing toward the captain with the gun and pulling Janet to his side. He kept his arm wrapped around her waist and used her as a shield as he boarded the other plane. He used his free hand to keep the gun in the pilot’s back until he had settled into the front seat of the plane. “To Mexico,” he said.
“I don’t know if we have enough gas in this little plane to get that far,” the captain said nervously.
“Pray for a miracle then,” answered the Zodiac. “Because we’re not landing again on American soil.”
As the plane shuddered into the air—its metal sides buzzing in the wind—the Zodiac leaned back and patted the duffel bag beside him. It contained all that was important to him—his oil, his plant, his money. He buckled himself into the parachute and sat back to enjoy the ride.
The Zodiac watched as the landscape below slipped by, the lush greenery of Washington and then Oregon glowing a jeweled green. Night fell, and he knew he would have to estimate when they crossed the border.
Zodiac Killer: Newly Discovered Adventures of Sherlock Holmes Page 8