by Mac Fortner
Chapter 29
The next morning I made Robin breakfast again. She came to the table showered and dressed for work.
“You look lovely this morning,” I said.
In a southern accent, I haven’t heard her use since we were in Key West, she said, “Why thank you. You are such a gentleman.
“Jenny, it’s you,” I said. She used that name undercover in Key West.
“Who were you expecting for breakfast?”
We laughed, but deep inside I missed Jenny. A carefree, well-to-do that only wanted to be with me.
After breakfast, she cleared the table while I took my shower and dressed.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you tonight if our busy schedules will allow,” she said.
“Works for me. I can always find time for you.”
“Why don’t you meet me in the park today for lunch? Say about twelve-thirty,” she said.
“I’ll be there. Shall I bring some hot dogs?”
“No thanks. Let me take care of the food,” she said.
She left, I sat down and went over my notes. I hoped to have time to review the rest of the tapes today, but I need to go to the office. I’ve been neglecting my work, and with Chad out, we need to catch up.
~***~
Andrei turned off the recorder and cleaned his rifle again. This was a good game. Just like Canada seven years ago when I only shot to draw blood, not to kill.
Andrei thought back to that time and how he took his name-Bloodshot from the game. I didn’t leave calling cards then. I wish I could have. I wanted everyone to know who shot the eight people in Ontario.
Andrei poured a vodka neat. He drank it down in one long smooth motion and poured another.
“I am Bloodshot,” he said aloud. “I am the victor.”
He ran the game through his mind again, as he often did.
Two very wealthy men were making a friendly wager. One man, Nathaniel Barton, said he was a much better hunter than the other, Eric Meninx. Nathaniel said he bet he could draw more human blood without actually killing anyone than Eric could. Eric took him up on the bet. If anyone died, the shooter would lose the bet–one million dollars.
Eric let the alcohol make the wager in the first place. He was not really that good of a shot, so unbeknownst to Nathaniel, Eric contacted a friend of mine. My friend said he would–run it by me.
The game sounded challenging. I wasn’t really doing anything better. I would receive twenty-five thousand for each target I hit. Nathaniel would choose Eric’s targets and vise versa. The game became known as Bloodshot by the locals.
With me secretly shooting for Eric, I hit eight targets. Nathaniel hit seven before killing the eighth. That made Eric the victor by default.
The Royal Canadian Mounted Police captured Nathaniel, thanks to an eyewitness who happened to disappear afterward.
He tried to tell them of the friendly bet between him and Eric, but Eric denied everything, coming up with multiple alibis as to his whereabouts at the times of the shootings.
No charges were brought against Eric.
Nathaniel died in prison shortly afterward. Not by natural causes. I am sure Eric had a hand in Nathaniel’s death.
I missed that game, and when I received the offer for this job, I suggested the game would be a good way to disguise the goal–with an added twist. They were more than eager to take me up on it.
Now, I’m very pleased to be back in the game. I’ve wanted to do it again ever since. This time I would get the credit for the shootings, and I would reveal myself as the one who started the game–Bloodshot–in Canada.
Andrei downed the second glass of vodka.
~***~
Chad was at the office when I walked in. “So, you’re feeling better today I see,” I greeted.
“No, not really, but Robert is driving me crazy. Get this-get that. He’s too needy.”
I laughed, “Where have I heard that before.”
“I couldn’t have been that bad,” Chad said.
We worked at our desks for a few hours. The work was really piling up, but with the help of the staff, we were seeing daylight by noon.
Chad stuck his head in my doorway. “Lunch?”
I looked at my watch. “No, not today. I’m meeting Robin in the park at twelve-thirty. I better get going.”
“Take your time. The work will get done.”
“Alright, see you this afternoon.”
I left the building and walked toward the park. The crisp weather opened my senses and made me more alert. To cap it off I stopped at the bagel stand and ordered a cup of coffee. I thought about Chad and Robert getting shot and began to worry about getting shot myself. Everyone I passed looked ominous. As I was nearing our favorite park bench, I raised my cup to take a drink. That’s when it exploded, and I felt a burning in my right hand. I heard the shot at the same time. Then I heard shots from in front of me. I was caught in a crossfire.
I dove to the ground, my hand on fire, I’d been hit. As the volley of gunfire continued I rolled beneath a truck, which was half parked on the curb. The truck door closed, and the engine started. Bad for me. I rolled back out just as the truck jumped the curb and roared away.
I managed to get two shots off but missed my target.
“Cam, are you okay?”
“It was Robin.”
“Yeah, I’ll live, but my arm is on fire.”
If I hadn’t moved my arm to take a drink of coffee, I would have been hit in the hand, possibly injuring it forever. It was just a slight coffee burn.
“This is the closest we’ve been,” Robin said. “I have to go.”
“Go, I'm all right,” I said.
“Did you get a look at him?” Robin said.
“No. I was a little busy.”
“Neither did I. He had a hat pulled down over his eyes.”
I found Bloodshot’s card where the truck was parked. It was on the street. I think he dropped it accidently. It said, Cam Derringer–hand–$25,000.
This is one he shouldn’t get paid for, I thought.
~***~
That’s where the story began. We’ve had multiple murders and two of my friends wounded by Bloodshot. Not to mention me almost getting killed and we’re no closer to closing in on him than we ever were. We can only hope he makes a mistake before he kills any of us.
~***~
Andrei sped away, barely missing people who were walking and running in the park. He turned onto East Seventy-Second Street and exited the park. Pulling his hat off, he almost hit a taxi head-on. At the first cross street, he turned right, pulled over to the curb and abandoned the stolen truck. He walked one block and hailed a taxi.
How could I be so careless, he thought? Now I will have to wait to shoot him again. I already have two more lined up.
~***~
I found a taxi in the park. “Chelsea Stratus Building please,” I said.
“Did you see the shoot’n in the park?” the driver said.
“Yeah, I did. Did you?”
“Not the shoot’n, but the guy almost hit me coming out of the park.”
“Did you get a good look at him?”
“Yeah, I did. We were face to face.”
“What did he look like?”
“Hey, are you a cop?”
“No, just curious. I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
“He was a big man, short blonde hair. Scary eyes.”
“Blue by any chance,” I asked.
“Maybe, kind of steely.”
It had to be Adrian.
“If I hadn’t swerved,” he said, “I would have hit him head on, I tell ya’.”
~***~
The FBI and the NYPD quickly threw a net over a one-mile circle. They found the truck only ten minutes after the shooting.
Robin personally searched the truck. She found nothing. She ordered that the vehicle be swept for fingerprints, although she knew none of his would be found.
By six o’clock
they gave up the search of the area. Robin contacted the major taxi companies and asked for a report of passenger pick-ups in the vacinity of the truck from twelve-thirty to twelve-forty-five.
She received sixty-three hits.
“Christ,” she said. “We don’t even know if he took a taxi.”
She put five agents on it. “If you see anything that might raise a flag, try to contact the driver. Especially look for one man with-in a one block area carrying a case.”
“Really?” one of them said.
“Yeah, I know, but what else do we have.”
I took the elevator to my apartment and called Chad after a stiff drink.
“Have you finished with lunch already?” he said.
“Yeah, I lost my appetite.”
“What’s wrong?”
I told him the story.
“Shit,” he said.
“Yeah, shit.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, but I think I’ll get in the shower and change into something more comfortable and go check those tapes at your apartments.”
“Sure, go ahead. I’ll be home around three. Maybe I’ll see you in the office.”
“Good, see you then.”
Chapter 30
.
I arrived at The Barclay around two o’clock. The office was ready for me, and I went right to work.
Ben had the film stopped where I had left off.
I watched the sixth floor in fast forward. It went through the night and to the next day. Finally, I saw movement. I slowed the tape. It was Jerald knocking on Tom’s door. He waited a moment and left. Four hours later, I saw myself knocking on the door. Then I saw Jerald talking to me. A few minutes later, the door was opened by a maintenance man. He and Jerald entered the room. They left and locked the door.
Where was Tom? He never left, but he wasn’t there either. He wasn’t in the backpack. What was?
“Ben,” I said.
“Yes, sir?”
“Can we go into Tom’s apartment again?”
“I guess that would be okay.”
He retrieved the key, and we went to Tom’s apartment. We opened the door cautiously and stepped inside. It was clear that no one was home.
“On the tape, I saw Adrian enter this room. The door was opened from the inside. Adrian left, but Tom never did. He had a backpack when he left, but not when he entered.”
“I guess we should search the place,” Ben said.
We did. There was no trace of Tom.
I found a suitcase under the bed. I slid it out and opened it. It was packed as if he were going on a vacation. I thought that strange.
“Do you see anything out of place? Something missing maybe that could have been in the backpack?” I said.
We searched again. Nothing seemed to be missing. I decided to look in the refrigerator. “Maybe he stole some food,” I joked.
I opened it. There was Tom. The fridge was empty except for him. I surmised that Adrian took the food to make room. If he had left the food out, we would have found him right away.
“Oh my,” Ben said.
“Yeah, oh my.”
I called Robin first and told her of my discovery. While we waited, I asked Ben if he had ever seen Adrian before. He said, “No.”
He glanced down at my hand. “Is your hand okay? It’s awful red.”
I told him of the happenings of the last few days.
“Really, just like in Ontario, huh,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“Bloodshot, the game, about seven or eight years ago. I was working in the Kingston hotel downtown when it happened. Two men made a bet about who could shoot the most people without killing them. Fifteen people were wounded before one was finally killed. The game was nicknamed Bloodshot, although I think that was by locals. Never saw it in the papers.”
“Did they get the men?”
“One of them. He suggested another man was involved, but he had alibis.”
“Do you know the man’s name? We might want to talk to him.”
“He was sent to a luxury prison where he was killed in three weeks. The other man, who he accused, is still alive, as far as I know.”
“I’ll tell Robin, thanks.”
“I had best take my place at the desk. I’ll send the FBI up when they arrive.”
“Thanks, Ben. They’ll probably want those tapes.”
“That’s not a problem.”
Robin showed up with a team in thirty minutes. I was waiting at the door.
“He’s in the fridge,” I said as they reached me. They went in without saying anything to me.
I heard one of the men throwing up. He came back out. He was a little pale.
Robin came out where I was waiting in the hall. “Good job Cam. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, but I don’t think Tom is doing too well.”
“No, I don’t either. How did you know?”
“The tapes I told you about. I never saw Tom leave, but he was gone. It looks like Adrian or whatever his real name is, put the food in a backpack, and took it away.”
“We need to see those tapes.”
“I told Ben, the concierge, you would. He has them on a thumb drive for you.”
“Thanks, but you know there still isn’t any proof that this has anything to do with Bloodshot. This could be unrelated.”
“Could be, but it’s not. I found a taxi driver that saw him leaving the park. His description of the man matched Adrian.”
“You found a witness?”
“Yes.”
“Where is he?”
“Driving a taxi would be my guess.”
“You just let him go?”
“Not my job,” I said.
She paused for a minute.
“Now we have a picture of him,” she said.
“Not one that will help. You can’t see his face in any of the shots. I knew who it was because I’ve met him.”
“Great. You’re the only one who knows what he looks like.”
“I guess. The others at the party say they didn’t really get a good look at him. He didn’t talk to very many of the guys.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah, shit.”
“He’s probably changed his name again by now,” Robin said.
“I think I know where he got his name.”
“You do?”
I told her about the games in Ontario and my feeling that he was the other shooter.
“Thanks, I’ll check on that, but the name Bloodshot should have come up on the scan.”
“It wasn’t in the papers. It was the locals that named the game. Ask Ben about it. He was there.”
“Okay. Cam, I’m sorry I doubted you. If this guy is Bloodshot, we owe you a lot.”
“You’ve been doing a lot of apologizing lately. Maybe you should start trusting my judgment.”
She didn’t say anything.
“Well I guess you can handle it from here,” I said. “I have other fish to fry.”
“I want to put a guard on you. He’s tried once, and he failed. He probably doesn’t take that lightly.”
“No, it wouldn’t do any good anyway. He knows where his targets are going to be and waits for them. I was lucky I took a drink just as he pulled the trigger. And I was lucky you were there to keep him from taking another shot at me.”
I kissed her on the forehead and left. I was starting to get tired of being taken lightly. Robin is upset about something, and she’s taking it out on me. I’ll wait for her to tell me. For a while anyway.
Chapter 31
As I was leaving the building, I ran into Chad.
“Leaving already?” he said.
“Yeah, I think my work here is finished.”
I filled him in on all the happenings.
“That’s terrible. Tom was a good friend.”
I could tell Chad was upset. It hurts when you lose a friend.
“You want me to hang around for a while?” I
asked.
“Would you mind having a drink at the bar before you go?”
“Not at all, in fact, I insist.”
We ordered and took a table close to the window.
I told him about the games in Ontario and my suspicion that Bloodshot was the other shooter.
“You mean, you think this might be a game?”
“Could be. At this point, it’s hard to tell.”
“Who would do that?” Chad said. It was more a statement than a question.
“Someone rich. According to the cards, he’s getting paid twenty-five thousand for each bloodshot.”
“Bloodshot. Now it has a whole different meaning,” Chad said.
“Yeah.”
“Let’s keep this conversation between us. Okay?”
“Okay,” I said, knowing we were about to get into a territory we won’t be comfortable in.
“First of all,” Chad said. “Who do we know that has the money to do something like that?”
“William, Alexis, Emanuel, you, although I don’t think it’s you.”
“Thanks.”
“For what it’s worth I don’t think it’s Alexis either.”
“Thanks again.”
“I definitely wouldn’t put it past Emanuel, but McNally says no.”
“That kind of leaves us with William,” Chad said.
“Yes, it does. Why would he do something like that now? Supposedly Alexis has her money already because you married her. If you died, she would keep her inheritance.”
“Yes, but if we divorce, she’ll lose it,” Chad said thoughtfully.
“So, maybe he’s trying to scare you away.”
“Maybe.”
“How are we going to prove that?” I asked.
“Maybe we should ask him,” Chad said.
“If we’re wrong, you have just broken any friendship chance you had between you and your father-in-law.”
“If we’re right, he wouldn’t confess anyway,” Chad said.
“Is there a way we could bring him in on the investigation?” I asked.
We thought it over for a bit while we drank our bourbon and ordered another.