The Arcturus Man

  “Point 5, to use a satellite dish, he is most likely to lease or purchase a recreational vehicle. Hence, he has a camping spot selected somewhere near the border. Further, he needs a large recreational vehicle in order to securely imprison Jenny and to avoid public scrutiny.”

  ”Point 6, considering travel times, major highways, proximity to Quebec, and other analytic factors, his entry point could be Fort Kent, Maine.”

  “Point 7, it is unlikely that he is in the immediate Fort Kent area. Residents will pay attention to RVs as they are a source of tourist income.”

  “Point 8, assuming he is in the Boston area now, it will take Sami about 9 hours to drive to Fort Kent. It is now 14:10. He will have started his trip by now, indicating his arrival in the Fort Kent area will be by 23:00 this evening or somewhat later if he stops for fuel and food.”

  “Point 9, assuming my analysis is correct that he is using a recreational vehicle he must stay on paved roads as much as possible because back roads could be difficult to drive. Rain is forecast for this region for the next three days. He will be close to Route 161, Caribou Road. I speculate, however, that he will be within thirty-three kilometers of Fort Kent.”

  “Point 10, he will know that both government law enforcement agencies will be searching for him. He will not re-enter Canada through Fort Kent. He may have rented or plans to steal a four-wheel drive SUV and, as I already said, he will use logging trails for his escape. The Canadians are not nearly as concerned about persons entering Canada from the United States as the United States is about persons entering from Canada.

  ”Point 11, After he returns to Canada, I doubt that he will attempt to leave Trudeau airport in Montréal. That departure airport has the highest risk of capture. He is aware of that risk. He needs a valid entry visa and may not risk an attempt to forge one. Hand markings are changed frequently. He will be using the same identify as he used to enter. There are many small airports in that region of Canada but he needs the anonymity that can only be found at a large and busy airport. I speculate that he will leave from Pearson Airport in Toronto.”

  “Point 12, he informed Jared that he is to arrive at the Dolphin Seafood Restaurant in Cambridge at noon and that he is permitted to have an exceptional last meal. In that Jared is to die within 30 minutes of his telephone call, the call should come in around 13:15 to 13:45 hours. Sami will wait until the evening news from Boston to learn of his death. He will not attempt to leave Maine until 19:30 hours at the earliest. I don’t believe that he will kill Jenny until Jared’s death is confirmed. He will, however, kill Jenny thereafter. If he plans to listen to the late night news, she is safe until the next morning because it is likely that he won’t…kill her…until he his ready to cross the border and he won’t attempt to cross the border on old trails in the dark.”

  “Point 13, someone in the United States is providing him with information. He has not traveled to the United States before. There is a traitor who knows you.”

  “In conclusion, at the moment I can find no on line access to pertinent recreational vehicle rental records, air flight manifests, housing rentals, or immigration data in either Canada or the United States. I can find no photographs of Sami Zhidov. I reviewed Jared’s discussions about Sami over the past few months and conclude the Sami is very intelligent, ruthless, and cunning. He can be assumed to also understand that we will quickly uncover many of the points that I have made and will have prepared for various contingencies. Your overall probability of rescuing Jenny is less than 5%. Your probability of capturing Sami is less than 40% on the basis of information I have access to.”

  “You are amazing Ginger,” said John.

  “Even if he is in the Fort Kent area that has to be very rural and rough country. We are still talking about several hundred square miles to search,” said Brett.

  “Listen John, I need your help in gathering more information. Look for air travel reservations into Canada, especially Montreal, by a Russian. Check all flights but focus on Heathrow. See if the Mounties will help you find all RVs rented in the last week or two. See if any had satellite dishes. Try to find any photographs of Sami Zhidov. Try the CIA. There can’t be many places to rent a car in that part of Maine. Has anyone rented a four-wheeled drive vehicle? Look for police reports about stolen SUVs. And, as a backup, have the Canadians check out all of the smaller airports,” said Jared. “Have I missed anything Ginger?”

  “No Jared, that is complete.”

  “Jared, why don’t you try your psychic stuff find out where Jenny might be,” said John.

  “I wish I could, but I can’t. It doesn’t work like that. I sensed a lake, but that’s no help. There are hundreds of small lakes in that region. Jenny has no idea where she is. I can’t get an images of the area they are in,” said Jared.

  “If we found a map of the Fort Kent area, could you pin point their location. I think that is called distant viewing,” said John.

  “That doesn’t work, John,” said Jared. “I am going to have to depend on you finding Jenny.”

  John looked shaken and didn’t follow up with another question even though he wanted to.

  “Can I use your phone? I need to get the Bureau going on this. As a kidnapping and with Canada possibly involved, it’s the FBI’s jurisdiction,” said John.

  “You can use your cell. I have a tower on the island,” said Jared.

  “Brett, if you’re willing, I would like you to accompany me to Boston in the morning. I want you in the restaurant when Sami calls. After I’m killed, I want you to immediately contact the news media in Boston to make certain I get coverage. That is vital.”

  “What do you mean, after you’re killed?” asked Brett.

  “Just trust me on this, Brett. Will you?”

  “Sure.”

  A boat horn blast stopped the conversation.

  “That must be Sam Bentley,” said Brett. “I’m going to spend the night here.”

  “That’s good. I’ll take it back to the mainland. I don’t have much time,” said John. He started punching numbers into his cell phone as he left the house.

  “So what are you going to do?” asked Brett.

  “I’m going to die,” said Jared.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven – Jared’s Death

  Boston Common – July 2014

  The drive to Boston seemed to take longer than normal. The sound proofing in Jared’s Lexus added to the grave mood. The sounds of the world around them couldn’t be heard inside the car. The silence was toxic. There were no horns, barely any rumbling trucks, and certainly no voices—not even their own. Brett and Jared barely spoke the entire way. The light rain and overcast skies amplified the gloom of the day. They phoned John on his cell several times. He didn’t have any new information. They arrived in Cambridge twenty minutes before noon. The Dolphin Restaurant opened at 11:30. They parked a block from Harvard and walked back to the restaurant. They asked for a table near the window looking on to Mass Avenue. They didn’t order anything alcoholic; they had sweet iced tea instead. Clear heads were important. They did, however, order a grand lunch as suggested by Sami. Why not? It killed the time. They both had a dozen Malpaque oysters with seafood sauce and red wine vinaigrette. Brett ordered broiled bluefish with mustard sauce. Jared had fish and chips. They ate in silence. The service was fast. They didn’t know when Sami would phone, so they had coffee. Sami phoned during their second cups. Ginger was on the money. Sami called at 13:30.

  Jared flipped open his phone. There were people sitting too close. He didn’t turn on the speaker phone.

  “Listen! No question. Take taxi. Go Boston Common. Enter park at Tremont, between West and Temple streets. Go fountain. Do there. My associates watching,” said Sami.

  “Hold on. The traffic is terrible.”

  Sami had already disconnected.

  “Let’s go,” said Jared.

  They decided to leave the car. The walked briskly up Mass Avenue to the Inn at Harvard. They were in luck and found a wai
ting taxi waiting a block from the Inn. Taxis were usually hovering near the Inn. They arrived at Tremont in 18 minutes. The traffic wasn’t terrible. They climbed out of the cab. Brett paid the driver and left a generous tip. He wanted the cabbie to remember them. They walked into the park. Jared unbuttoned his London Fog Balmacaa trench coat. He nodded to Brett who dropped back several paces and then walked away, not looking back. Jared scanned the area. There were no uniforms visible but he quickly spotted the Massachusetts State Police in plain clothes. Their shoes and haircuts gave them away. A few might be with the Boston PD, at least the scruffy ones. He focused. Yes, the Boston PD was there too. They all blended into the late lunch crowds walking through the Common. The FBI guys didn’t blend at all and were the easiest to spot. Their clothes and grooming were like uniforms. John had done his part well. They all were leaving him alone.

  Jared stood at the fountain. He still had a few minutes to think. Death was seductive. It was calling to him. Sami said 30 minutes. There were eight minutes to go. There was no fear. His only felt regret about Jenny. She was so young. The possibility that she might be saved was dimming. He did love her. He regretted how he acted the last time they talked. He couldn’t hold the monster in him at bay. He didn’t deserve to live.

  He casually looked around one last time. No one was going to rush over to stop him. He never thought they would. Then again, no one thought he would actually do it. He sensed several of them. He sensed a lot of anxiety but also a surprising amount of indifference. He felt for the suicide note in his side pocket. It was there. He reached into his trench coat and grasped the handle of the Colt Woodsman. From then on it was quick. He withdrew the gun from his belt, carefully positioned it to his temple, and fired. He dropped instantly.

  The crack of a pistol was unmistakable. A woman screamed as he fell. A crowd quickly gathered, staring at the body. Warm blood was streaming down Jared’s face. It quickly saturated his white shirt and turned it crimson. Brett was about a hundred yards away. He was shaken, but determined to do his duty. He pulled out his cell phone and began dialing the Boston Globe. He then called several of the local TV stations. He gave them descriptions of the kidnapped girl and told them that photographs were concurrently being e-mailed by his secretary as well as a summary of events. He told them that police statements would be coming directly from the various agencies. They all had the same question. Had the police really stood by and watched a man kill himself to save the girl. It was a great story for them. Brett had no comment.

  Brett looked back at Jared’s body. A woman was attending to him. She was holding an umbrella over Jared, blocking Brett’s view. She was wearing white sneakers, the kind that nurses wear. She looked like she knew what she was doing.

  An ambulance arrived. The police must have stationed one very close. Boston PD blue and whites jammed every intersection. The woman in the while sneakers was shaking her head to the EMTs piling out of the ambulance.

  Brett still couldn’t come to terms with the reality of the situation. Law enforcement agencies had allowed a man to commit suicide that they knew about ahead of time. It was unconscionable, but such was his friend’s wish—that no one interfere. No one did. Brett was being a friend and an attorney, but it was tough.

  Brett walked closer to the scene and photographed the crowds at the scene with his digital camera at full zoom. This was for the unlikely contingency that Sami really did have associates witness the suicide. It might aid in identification later. Brett stayed calm the entire time. He promised that he would. He always kept his promises. As he walked yet closer he could see the paramedics working on Jared. A compression bandage was held tightly against the head wound. One medic felt the carotid artery for a pulse. He quickly pulled open Jared’s shirt and used a stethoscope to listen for a heart beat.

  “The guy’s dead. Get his wallet out for an ID,” said the medic.

  A uniformed policeman appeared…Boston PD…who carefully picked up the handgun by trying to run her ball point pen into the barrel. The bore was too small. She pulled a handkerchief and used that to lift the gun. She thought about waiting for the crime scene guys to show up but was concerned that someone might take the gun. The plain clothes officers stayed away. The FBI people were already gone. One man was taking photographs of the scene and of the people in the crowd with a very expensive, high quality digital camera.

  A crime scene investigation van pulled up. A police line was established around the body. Photographs were taken. The cop was relieved of the weapon. The woman in white shoes turned a note over to the CSI team. The efficiency of the Boston PD was impressive.

  They put Jared on a stretcher and rolled it into the ambulance. Brett could see that they were zipping up a body bag as the doors closed. They were going to Mass General Hospital. Various news media crews were finally arriving as the ambulance pulled into traffic. There was no rush now. The ambulance didn’t turn its sirens on. Clusters of news people were forming at the scene. Video was being taken. Witnesses were being interviewed. Brett was amazed how quickly everything was happening. The woman in the white sneakers was a nurse. She was being interviewed by one TV crew after another. She said that the man was dead at the scene. He had no pulse. He was dead.

  Fort Kent, Maine

  Sami had been playing with the dish antenna for an hour. He had to move the RV several times before he found a decent view of the southern horizon. He came back into the cabin and turned on a small television set on the diminutive kitchen counter.

  Jenny was naked, shackled to a small bed at her ankles with rusty dog chains and padlocks. She kept her knees together and her arms folded over her chest. It was July but she was cold and she was shivering. Every part of her body hurt. Her parents never used corporeal punishment on their children. Jenny had never been beaten before so she couldn’t judge how brutal Sami had been. She never cried, at least not while he was watching her. She wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction.

  Sami used his knife to cut open a can. He was pulling things out of a plastic grocery shopping bag. The text on the bag was mostly in French. He set out two paper plates and two plastic spoons. He dug out what looked to Jenny to be sardines from the jagged opening of the can and divided them between the two paper plates. Sami took out a green plastic food storage tub and spooned out pieces of calamari onto the plates, keeping them completely separate from the little fish. He brought one of the plates to Jenny and dropped it on the bed.

  “Eat. This smoked sprats. They excellent. Difficult to find in America but easy Canada. I like sprats. Squid good too. Very fresh,” said Sami.

  The squid looked black. It was soaked in ink. And the fish that looked like sardines still had heads and fins. Jenny hadn’t eaten since she was kidnapped, but she didn’t know if she could get this down. She decided that she would at least try it. She pinched off the head and fins with her spoon. The little fish weren’t really that bad. She put a piece of squid in her mouth. It felt like rubber. It was horrible. It didn’t matter what you called them, calamari or any other name, it was indigestible. She ate all of the sprats and would have liked more, but she was afraid to ask.

  Sami picked up a loaf of French bread and broke it in two. From the sound of the bread breaking, as well as the sound of the bread hitting the kitchen counter, it was evident that it was as hard as a brick. He turned on the faucet. Sami soaked each half of the loaf under the running water. He handed one half to Jenny. She thought it was some kind of punishment until, to her absolute astonishment, Sami sat down and began to gnaw at his half of the bread. She looked at her piece. It was rock hard in the center and mushy on the outside. He actually liked it this way. He kept spooning the sprats and squid into his mouth. His eating was noisy. He was done in a few minutes. He walked into the bathroom and came out holding a plastic tumbler. It was filthy. He put it on the counter and half filled it with vodka. He topped it off with tap water.

  “Here drink.”

  Jenny shook her head.

  �
��Good. More for me,” said Sami.

  He walked away with the tumbler. He drank it in one gulp and then filled it up with tap water. He brought the glass back to Jenny. She took it. She was so thirsty. She drank it without stopping.

  He fished into the bag again and brought out two white pieces. Jenny wasn’t sure what they were.

  “This walrus bone earrings for my beautiful daughter. Hand carved by Inuit. Very beautiful. Yes?”

  Jenny nodded. They were indeed beautiful. He had taken the time to buy a gift for this daughter while he was in Canada. It was so incongruous. The monster had a child. Having eaten, Sami settled back in his chair. He found a news channel originating from Boston. The picture was terrible but the audio was good. She didn’t know exactly where she was but she knew that she was far upstate somewhere on the Canadian border. She tried not to attract Sami’s attention.

  Sami picked up a large phone. It looked a lot like the SAT phone that Jared had on the boat. He dialed a number. He spoke in Russian. Jenny couldn’t understand any of the conversation but she heard a name, Tatyana. She recognized it as a woman’s name. Sami smile broadly and hung up the phone. He turned and looked at Jenny.

  “Pretty lady, you lucky Sami old man and little blue pill not work.” She felt bile filling up in her throat. Sami turned up the volume on the TV. The news station was covering a man who had committed suicide earlier today in the Boston Common.