Killing Sanford (Gary Cannon Book 1)

by Mike Kershner

  Brent was a different man, but not totally unlike other men Gary remembered throughout his life. Brent seemed to be pretty focused, confident, but maybe right at the edge of his own capabilities.

  Sitting on the edge of the bed Gary looked down at the floor, a gray speckled white linoleum. Gary became lost in the random shapes, he was recapping the things Brent said. In his mind he thought, “They had a system of tests, tests to break me down to some level they wanted. But they couldn’t do it. Or were they not willing to go to some other level? Surely they have ways of breaking people if they really wanted to? But whatever system they had, it had limits. Even if it was only the gut feeling that Brent had from however many countless people who came before me. And my dad helped develop this, or had these ideas? What the hell?”

  Gary laid back on the bed, now looking at the ceiling, the seams of the pre-stressed concrete garnered his attention. The seams had been left open but the concrete painted a dark green.

  He continued to think, “Where do I go from here? What do they do with me? Obviously I’m no killer yet, I’ve only known about all of this for around two weeks. I guess it’s been two weeks. I feel like I have been here for two weeks. Is it day or night? I can’t even remember. So much has happened.” His mind was racing now, “I’ve traveled so far, Neil and I took forever to get to that dump in Mexico, then bam, I wake up in the trunk of a car and seemingly overnight I have been transported halfway across an entire country. And speaking of Neil, why did he leave? Where did he go? This is so much bigger than I ever could have imagined, so much more serious than it sounded. And it is more real than I ever could have guessed. Maybe this wasn’t the right choice, maybe I should have taken the money and ran.”

  Gary would not find sleep that night for a long time. When he did finally drift off to sleep his dreams were of his parents. His parents came to him. He had not left his little concrete room, but when they did they came as white swollen corpses. Their skin wrinkled and sagging from too much time in the water. His mother had grass tangled throughout her hair, his father had brown oak leaves stuck to the skin of his neck and the side of his face.

  Their eyes were lifeless as they talked to him. His father talked to him about how he could still be a good man, a good man doing bad things. He said “Gary, they are bad people, the ones you’ll kill. They are doing bad things. It’s okay son. This won’t be easy, this is what you were meant for, and it’s what your mind was intended to do. Some of us were always intended to hunt men. I didn't know that was what I was really good at until I did it, you’ll see.”

  His father never looked at him with those gray eyes, they were looking past him, above him, never at him. His voice was different than Gary remembered, it was scary, and the entire situation was scary. His mother kept telling him everything would be okay, he was going to be fine. Then she would remind him to brush his teeth and make sure he was studying hard. Then she told him, just like his father, this is what he was meant to do.

  The room in his dream was now larger than the room he had been in. Its floor was carpeted, the walls blue not white, and it was cold and had a damp feeling.

  The room started to fill with water, slowly it filled seeping up from the carpet. Gary was frozen to his bed, his whole body was frozen, and he could not close his eyes. The water rose as he watched his parents in front of him, it was at his chin when it started rushing to his right, faster and faster. Soon the water was over his head and still he was frozen there, holding his breath. He could feel the current of the water, see it moving the tattered clothing his parents were wearing, and then it swept the clothes away revealing more white ghostly skin. Gary watched in increasing terror as the water washed his parents to the side, their skin sliding from their bodies as the water pulled at them until they were gone from his view.

  Finally, he could move and he tried to scream, the water rushing into his mouth as he opened it, the water was forcing its way in, pushing the air from his lungs. He was pushing off from the bed, pushing up. He pushed and kicked, in his panicked mind he needed air, and air was up. At the ceiling he found none. Finally scared, and alone he quit fighting the water pushing into his lungs, and he felt the current take him. He was at peace and then he was awake.

  Gary sat bolt upright in bed, his hair was wringing wet, the shirt and pants he was sleeping in were soaked. His sweat had soaked the sheets of the bed, he was exhausted and fell backwards onto the pillow, which was also wet.

  Gary was breathing hard, his chest heaving, it hurt but after the dream felt so good to have air in his lungs. He was starting to relax, thinking he could go back to sleep when he heard the key slide into the lock.

  ***

  June 25, 1976

  Gary's eyes opened, he took in a breath, he was sweating, and he was rocking from side to side on his back. He was a ball of nervous energy, panting, pulse racing. Gary sat up, there was a single heave from his chest and he ran for the bathroom again this time there was only bile to give to the porcelain god, but his body would not accept that and it tried and tried to give more.

  When his stomach released its grip on Gary's body he collapsed to the floor, cold and sweating. He lay there faint light from the street filtering into the room, looking at the ceiling his mouth moved, "What...why...help...I just want to go home, I want to go home, I can't, I'm scared...he’ll kill you all, you’re already dead." his voice became heavy and slurred and he was asleep.

  ***

  Gary’s mouth was dry, his head was pounding and his stomach was knotted. He pulled himself from the bathroom floor, arms shaking as he did so. He checked the Speedmaster, 04:03. Gary hated the feeling he had, too scared, scared of where his mind was right now.

  He had people to see, he had to pull himself together. He undressed and showered, feeling mildly better after. He dressed and had a smoke as he sipped a scalding cup of coffee.

  Action is what he needed, he had been moving without any progress for too long, maybe it had been the bus trip, and maybe it was working in the States that had him overwhelmed again. Whatever it was he knew that getting some business done would set him back right, just as it always had.

  For whatever he had been as a boy, for all that he had been through as a man, there was nothing that could set his mind at ease as quickly as completing a job. Already with the decision made he felt better.

  ***

  June 26, 1976

  Gary watched Paula Hanson walk out of the glass doors of the Johan and Williamson law firm. She was a short woman, small and petite, she was not unattractive but she was not a woman Gary would have looked back at if he had crossed her on the street. Her dark brown hair made her complexion look much lighter than it was.

  For a twenty-nine year old she had exuberance about her like a sixteen year old, she bounded daily from the law firm and most days almost skipped to her car, a blue 1970 Monte Carlo. Gary watched her as she tossed her purse to the back seat, fired up the 400 inch motor and she piloted it from the parking stall as if she were an F-4 providing close air support.

  He saw her go on three dates in the time he had been watching her. There had been no repeats, the advance team had also noted she had an active social life, though most of her dates ended before 10 pm. Gary tracked down each of the three dates. One turned out to be an assistant editor for the Omaha World Herald. Another was a salesman Newton Brothers Chevrolet. The third was much younger, a college student, which Gary found out later had been working his summer for the city street department.

  Paula was carefree from his vantage point she appeared to have no worries, no cares. For all evidence that he had that was the truth. Her dating habits, and her driving habits all made easy methods to her disposal. Mentally Gary had already crossed this one off his list, anyone who knew her could see that if something happened from either direction, it would be a shock, but somehow expected.

  ***

  Paula would be the second on the list, easy to make it look like an accident, and not draw too much att
ention. Gary could easily kill her and walk away from it without the remaining two being alerted.

  If they saw that she had died, would they know, would they know she had been killed? They might he thought, this raised more questions to him, did the four know about each other? Were they working as a team? Was there even a job they were working on? If they were working as a team even the slightest disturbance would put the others on alert, the nature of whatever had brought them to his sights would guarantee that they would be suspicions of almost any disruptions but there was no evidence of a team.

  Of course if they were independents, each with specific tasks but none aware of the others directive it would no more raise a concern to one of the other four than a weather report.

  Even if they were independent, there could be handlers to be concerned with, they would be watching for convenient accidents. Someone somewhere up the chain that put everything in motion would be aware enough to know if something looked too suspicions. Gary tried to think from an operational standpoint.

  If an asset he was handling suddenly died, it would be an operational difficulty. They would first look into the cause of death and try to determine if it was a hit or not, if they felt it was an accident, they would, if possible, replace their vacancy with another asset. Before they could do that they would have to remove the threat to their asset and that was something that made Gary cautious.

  ***

  Hal’s was not particularly busy for a Saturday morning. Gary had picked a booth in the corner, with a nice view of the entire restaurant, and the angle was right to see out to the street through the large plate glass windows.

  It was nearing 8:30 just Gary and another man sat in the silence, there was some faint clinking from the kitchen as the mornings dishes were washed. Julia was making the coffee, emptying filters to the waste basket, and replacing with new. As always she kept busy. When the coffee was set she turned and wiped slowly at the counter. Satisfied with its cleanliness she folded the cotton towel and hung it over the towel rod behind her.

  Then she was walking his way, empty handed, not coming his way to freshen warm his coffee. There was nothing left on his table to bus and the shape of the cafe made him the only reason she could be walking his way.

  Gary turned slightly and smoothly to his left, moving his right side away from her line of sight, as he brought his right hand closer to the Colt inside his waistband. He ran through possibilities in his mind, everything was slowing down as he worked the problem.

  Her posture was not aggressive, but a trained person would have gotten away from this type of signaling behavior long ago. She was maintaining eye contact even as Gary looked for signs that she could have a weapon. He scanned behind her looking for someone else she might have been acting as a distraction for. There was nothing alerting him, nothing but the fact that one of his targets was walking straight for him.

  There were no tendrils of electricity in his arms or his legs, none of the instinctual signals he had been taught to pay close attention to, signals that had many times saved his life.

  She sat down.

  Gary looked at her, his expression never changed, his right hand ready to draw the Colt and send a .45 caliber slug to remove her brain at 840 feet per second. She smiled, “My name is Julia.”

  Gary had looked at her as she served him breakfast so many times during his time in Omaha, but he had never really “looked” at her. It was something he had been taught, to notice but not look. Julia was pretty, much prettier than any surveillance photos the advance team had in the packet. She was much prettier than he had noticed watching her from a distance. No, she was beyond pretty, up close when she was interacting with him, this woman was beautiful, Gary was unprepared for the effect it had on him and how taken back he was by it. “Milo.” He said, “My name is Milo.”

  She stretched out her hand, “It’s nice to meet to Milo.” The hint of her Bostonian accent carrying through as she said the words.

  “Nice to meet you too, Julia.” Only five times before had he sat with a target and talked, never had his targets been this pleasant of a person. The previous targets he had sat with were men, and Gary had not cared for any of them. Gary had been happy kill these men, happy to watch their blood, and their life drain from their eyes. This was a different experience.

  “Milo, I see you come in here pretty often lately, you always sit alone never eat much, drink a pretty fair amount of coffee. Honey, this coffee we make here, it’s really not that good. I hate to break that to you.”

  Gary smiled. She was flirting with him, and he had been worried she was on to him but she was sitting here, flirting, it made him laugh on the inside. “I like the atmosphere here, sort of reminds me of home.”

  “It’s a nice place, I guess, Hal is easy to work for, and the old man can really make an omelet.”

  “Your accent, you’re not from here are you?”

  She blushed lightly, “Is it obvious? Most people don’t notice it much anymore.”

  “It’s not that obvious. Massachusetts?”

  “Boston. Have you been?”

  She was not bashful about where she was from, or the advance team had only uncovered as far as her cover story. Gary found it interesting that either she had no problem telling people where she was really from or that her cover was so good the team and the guys in research had not gotten past it. Gary answered, “Never been. But I can’t help but remember Kennedy’s speeches, that accent hanging on every syllable.”

  Julia giggled, “Everyone always wants to go to ‘Ma-tha’s Vin-yad’,” her a’s were over exaggerated and her r’s were slurred over.

  They both laughed, she smiled at him, “Where is your home Milo?”

  He looked at her, “I’m from all...” the door opened. A little bell chiming as a man in coveralls and work boots strolled in and sat at the counter. “I’ll be right back,” she said.

  Gary smiled, nodded, and she got up. He watched her walking away, wondering what kind of hit this was. It had two aspects to it, one it seemed like one of the private hits he had done. A businessman upset with his partner, and wife who found her well to do husband sleeping with the maid. But, on the other hand if it was a private hit, it was someone with a huge bank account, there had been too much work on the front end, and four targets was not usually the case for private work. This had the stink of government work.

  Julia returned, this time with a coffee pot, “Warm your cup Milo?”

  He waved his hand over the cup, “Not this time thank you, I’ve got to be going.”

  “Well, you have a good day. Try to stay cool out there. It’s going to be another scorcher.”

  “Thank you, you do the same. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She smiled, and Gary laid some change on the table and walked out. On the sidewalk in front of Hal’s as the late June sun warmed the top of his head he realized that was the first time he had talked with a target and both of them had walked away.

  ***

  He had spent enough time watching each of the four to know when and where to strike, what the best time was to take them. The easiest would be Pringle, his lack of employment made him much more random than the others. It was the same reasoning that made him an early target. Gary could take him out and it could be days or if he was really lucky a week or more before anyone noticed Ed’s absence.

  He felt he had solid plans for at least two of the targets now, and that made him feel better. Pringle seemed like a pretty average guy from what Gary had seen, twenty-seven, born in Florida. He had a way about him that caused him to stand out a bit in Omaha. He was too casual, maybe a little too carefree. He spent his days in a library, browsing through magazine articles, National Geographic mainly.

  In the evenings he would frequent several bars near his rented house, all within walking distance. Gary noted the intelligence on Ed had been top notch. Whoever the advance team was on this had not missed a thing. Gary made a mental note to mention that when he checked i
n after this was over. He always felt it was important to pay credit when it was due. He was just a diligent to make sure people knew when they had missed something.

  ***

  July 1, 1976 01:29

  Gary watched Ed Pringle walk from the front door of “One for the Road”, as the door opened, light flooded onto the sidewalk, Hank Williams followed him, but fell to a muffled hum as the door closed behind him.

  Ed walked the three blocks east to his house, stopped in an alley at block two to relieve himself next to a trash can. Gary noticed from his weaving that he must have been into the bottle pretty hard tonight, he was talking to himself, obviously still finishing the last conversation from the bar. Gary laid the field glasses on the seat of the Ford. Ed was at his front porch and stepping in the door.

  Gary put his head back and took a few slow breaths. He got out and slowly made his way up the street. He watched the lights come on in the house, room to room, then each room darken as Ed moved through the house.

  Gary stopped and lit a Lucky, before the butt was half done all the lights were out in Ed’s house. Gary finished the smoke, crushed it with his boot, and lit another, giving Ed a few more minutes to pass out.

  The back of the house was nice and dark, Gary stopped, crouched down next to the back door and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to let his eyes adjust completely to the darkness. He stood, turned and opened the back door. The house was quiet other than the snoring coming from Ed’s bedroom, Gary smiled.

  He stepped into the bedroom, the smell of alcohol was heavy in the air. He walked up next to the bed. He looked at Ed, laying there, half covered, his leg dangling from the edge.