The Game of Life or Death: A Detective Series of Crime and Suspense Thrillers (The Jacob Hayden Series Book 3)

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The Game of Life or Death: A Detective Series of Crime and Suspense Thrillers (The Jacob Hayden Series Book 3) Page 15

by Prandy, Charles


  “What about?” I said.

  “My contact couldn’t give me details, probably because he didn’t know himself, but it was rumored that the Soviets had something to do with Turner’s disappearance.”

  “What about Tillman? Where’s he?”

  “He died of complications from a stroke in November of 1983.”

  “So,” I said, “let’s backtrack a little and look at the facts. We know that on September 1, 1983, something went wrong in this supposed meeting and, as a result, women and children were killed in a shootout. A videotape captured the massacre. Later that month, Congressman Turner went missing and was never seen again. Two months later, Congressman Tillman died of complications from a stroke.

  Now, fast forward thirty years still looking at the facts. Rule’s family and friend are murdered. Mr. Rule was an undercover CIA agent whose real identity we don’t know. The Cardinal Rule firm was a front to mask who they really were and what they were really doing. And the videotape that caught the massacre still exists somewhere. Am I right so far?”

  Jadyn and Rule nodded, yes.

  “Now, let’s look at speculation. Mr. Rule killed Congressman Turner.”

  “That’s not speculation,” Rule said.

  “Until we know for sure, it’s not a fact right now. I believe you saw what you saw, but the gray area is was it Congressman Turner that you saw being shot?”

  “It was,” Rule said sternly.

  I raised my hands and conceded, “Okay, it was. So, all of this bring us to the point of why we’re here. We’re trying to solve a murder. We believe that we know the why. Now we need to know the who.”

  “Russians,” Rule said. “They have the motive. They’ve been looking for my father for thirty years.”

  I nodded, “Okay, which one?”

  Rule gave me a sideways looks like I’d made a smart aleck comment.

  “Don’t mess with me, Jacob.”

  “I’m not. I’m being serious. We have five dead Russians, including Betsy Miller. We think we saw Betsy’s killer in her building, but we don’t know where he is or if he was even her killer. So we’re actually at square one.”

  “There might be someone who can help,” Jadyn said.

  Rule and I looked at her.

  “I was given a name of someone who could have been there in the Soviet Union when the shootings took place.”

  “Really?” I said.

  “It was given to me off the record and stressed that if any of this ever comes back, that I obtained this information on my own.”

  “So, was this person one of the gunmen?”

  “I don’t know, but the stress in my guy’s voice leads me to believe that he was.”

  “What’s the name?”

  Jadyn hesitated before telling us. “Harrison Green.”

  “Uncle Happy?” Rule said.

  “You know him?” Jadyn said.

  “Yeah, he’s one of my dad’s best friends. But we grew up calling him Uncle Happy.”

  “Why Uncle Happy?” I asked.

  “I don’t know. That’s what we’ve always called him.”

  “Do you know where he is?”

  “Yeah, he lives up in the mountains out in Hagerstown, Maryland.”

  “That’s about an hour’s drive from here.”

  Rule looked at his watch. “Make that two. Rush hour’s gonna make it a bitch getting out of the city.”

  I looked at my watch, he was right. It was now five o’clock. People were getting off of work. Every artery leading out of D.C. would be jammed, not to mention that once we were out of the city, the highway would be a bottleneck until we got to the country.

  “Do you want me to tag along?” Jadyn asked.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “You’re FBI. If he was affiliated with the CIA, he may not talk with you there. But I’ll fill you in on all of the details.” I turned to Rule, “Let’s go back to my house so I can feed Henry before we take the trek.”

  “No problem. It’ll give me a little extra time to wrap my head around Uncle Happy.”

  “Be safe, you guys,” Jadyn said. “Remember that if they found your dad, they may know who Harrison Green is.”

  “Something tells me that Uncle Happy is safe,” Rule said.

  “Why do you say that?” I asked.

  “You’ll find out when you meet him.”

  Sixty-three

  I decided to bypass stopping by my house. Since the rush hour traffic was going to set us back close to two hours, I figured that we didn’t have the extra fifteen minutes or so that it would take to feed Henry. So I called one of my neighbors who has a key to my house and asked him if he could feed Henry and take him for a quick walk around the block. Ever since my wife’s death, my neighbor had been one of the few people I could trust with Henry if something ever happened to me.

  It took us a little over an hour to get through the rush hour traffic. Once we got past Frederick, Maryland, traffic opened up and the drive was no more stop and go, but smooth sailing. It took us another twenty-five minutes to get to Hagerstown, which is a city reminiscent of what life was probably like thirty or forty years ago before big developers and corporations came into the suburbs. The neighborhoods didn’t look like cookie-cutter subdivisions, and the roads weren’t congested with cars traveling about.

  Rule told me which turns to make and then told me to slow down when we came upon a side road that looked as if it turned into the woods.

  “So, if Uncle Happy was indeed one of the men with my father then a lot of what you’re about to see will make sense,” Rule said.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Let’s just say that Uncle Happy is one of the happiest people I’ve ever met, but he’s also one of the most security-conscious people I’ve met too.”

  “Does he have cameras all over the place or something?”

  “Let’s just say that he’s probably looking at us right now.”

  I stopped my car once I turned onto the side road. I looked around, trying to see if I could see a camera, but couldn’t. Rule stepped out of the car and waved in the direction that the road led and then sat back in the car.

  “Okay, go ahead and drive.”

  “Is this guy crazy?”

  “Nope, just a little different.”

  “Why haven’t I ever heard of him? I thought I knew most of your family?”

  “I didn’t come up here much, and my dad said that Uncle Happy was a very private man. So I just didn’t talk about him.”

  “When’s the last you saw him?”

  “I came up here about six months ago with my dad. Before that, it’d been over a year.”

  I nodded and then slowly started driving along the side road, which appeared as though it was paved right through the woods. As we drove, a quick flash caught my eye behind us.

  “What was that?”

  Rule chuckled, “He caught your license plate. He’s probably running it now.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “As a heart attack.”

  We drove another fifty feet or so before we came upon a small one story house that looked as though it used to be white. An older model, dark blue pickup truck was parked in front of the house. Rule told me where to stop, and then we got out.

  “Quaint,” I said.

  Rule looked around and then smiled, “This isn’t where he lives.”

  “Really? Then why’d we come here.”

  “Remember, I told you that he’s really security conscious. He wants you to think this is where he lives.”

  “So where does he live then?”

  Rule turned left toward an unpaved section of the woods. “We walk from here.”

  “I didn’t think that we were going on a nature retreat.”

  “Don’t worry, old man, it’s not far.”

  Rule led me through the woods, and we walked for close to a half a mile.

  “Thought you said that it wasn’t far?”

  “It’s not fa
r to me.”

  We came upon a clearing in the woods and saw a house of equal size to the first one, but this house looked to be in much better shape. The biggest difference I noticed was the large front porch that had two cushioned patio chairs side by side. We walked another twenty feet or so and then the front door of the house opened, and a man who looked like a stereotypical mountain man came out. He was as tall as Rule, but his stature and build made Rule appear small. He had long gray hair that was tied in a ponytail, with a beard that could have been equally as long as his hair. He wore a green camouflage pullover shirt that looked like it could barely cover the massive size of his arms.

  He walked out to us with a stoic look on his face and gave Rule a hug that looked like a bear embracing one of its cubs. He whispered in Rule’s ear, but I could hear through his deep, powerful voice that he said, “I’m sorry.”

  Rule nodded but didn’t say anything. When he let go, he looked toward me and extended his hand.

  “Jacob Hayden,” he said.

  “Uncle Happy,” I said, “if you don’t mind me calling you that.”

  A small smile crept upon his face, “Not at all. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  I nodded.

  He exhaled, “Well, I know why you’re here. Guess there’s a lot we’ve got to talk about.”

  “Anything you can tell us that could help us figure out who did this would be greatly appreciated,” I said.

  “Oh, I know who did this,” he said reassuringly.

  Rule and I looked at each other.

  “The question you have to ask yourself is, how far are you willing to go to catch them.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  He turned toward his house, “Coffee’s just about done. We’ll talk over a cup.”

  Sixty-four

  Alexey Gavronskii had his guns in hand when he saw the shadowy image of a man walk past the front windows. He didn’t see two images like he expected, nevertheless he was ready to take down whoever entered the front door.

  He stood to his feet and looked down to his right to check that the large dog was still sleeping on the kitchen floor. Then he looked back toward the windows and saw the one image moving closer to the front door. Then a thought quickly ran through his mind: what if they knew he was there and one of them was going to enter through the rear door? He raised both arms and pointed the guns toward the front and rear of the house. He looked back toward the windows and saw that the image was closer to the front door. He knew all about the detective and the Rule son. He knew they were smart. They were able to catch Viktor without either losing their lives. He only had seconds before the front door was opened. So he quickly shuffled to the rear of the house and glanced through the back door and didn’t see anyone.

  He raised both guns toward the front of the house and focused his attention to the front door. He heard a key enter the lock and then heard the doorknob turn. The door slowly opened. Alexey’s gun was aimed, but he wasn’t going to shoot without knowing who was entering the house. He had strict instructions to bring the Rule son to Lev alive.

  The door opened wider, and then a smaller man the age of a grandfather came through the front door. He didn’t see Alexey at first, but then his eyes grew wide and his mouth formed the shape of a capital “O” when he saw the two guns aimed at him.

  “What’s going on here?” The old man asked.

  “Who you?” Alexey asked.

  “Just a neighbor.”

  “Well, neighbor, come inside and close the door behind you.”

  “Where’s Jacob?”

  “He’ll be coming along soon enough.”

  The neighbor slowly stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

  Sixty-five

  The coffee was a little strong for my taste, but at least it’d keep me up longer tonight. We sat on couches in the living room that was filled with pictures of Uncle Happy and various other people. Each picture was in a different exotic location. And in all of them, Uncle Happy seemed very happy.

  The décor of the house was very much what you might think a house in the middle of the woods would look like: paneled walls and outdated furniture. Uncle Happy took a long sip of his coffee and then leaned back into the couch before saying his first words.

  “Your father was my closest friend,” he said, and then he waived the comment off with his hand. “But you already know that. What you don’t know is how he and I became friends in the first place.”

  “I thought you met in college,” Rule said.

  “That’s what we tell everyone. But in reality, we were both recruited by the CIA. Class of 1973.”

  He took another sip of his coffee.

  “So was Sam. We were the three amigos,” he said half laughing. “You remind me of him when he was your age,” he said to Rule. “The big difference is your left hook is a lot sweeter.”

  That comment brought a smile to both of our faces.

  He took another sip of his coffee again. “In the fall of 1972, I was a senior in college. You probably can’t tell by looking at me, but I used to be a pretty smart guy.” He smiled and winked his left eye at us. “I was the star quarterback of our football team and also a physics major with a 4.0 GPA. So, one day I’m about to head out to practice when a pretty girl who I’d never seen before on campus came up to me and asked if I’d be interested in going to a party with her that weekend. Hell, I was nothing but one big hormone, so of course I said yes. The girl gave me her number and told me where to meet her Friday night.”

  He paused as if he was waiting for one of us to ask, “So what happened next?”

  “So what happened next?” I asked.

  He smiled, “I met her that’s what happened. She took me to this insane party about thirty minutes off campus. Probably the best night of my life at the time. We played games, drank beer, I got in two fights. What more could a college kid at that time ask for?”

  I nodded, unsure where he was taking us.

  “Fast forward eight months, and I’m getting ready to graduate. I only saw the girl that one night and didn’t think much about her after that. Two weeks before I graduated, I got a letter from the Central Intelligence Agency asking if I’d be interested in joining a summer internship. To make a long story short, my first day at the agency I was put in a room with a couple of guys that I didn’t know. But it turned out that I did in some way know them. Eight months earlier at that party, the two fights that I got into were with two of the guys in the room with me.”

  My eyes grew wide, “Really?”

  Uncle Happy nodded, “Yep. Turns out the whole thing had been a setup. We drank beers until we were inebriated enough that our senses were out of whack. The games we played tested our logic and cognitive comprehension in an inebriated state. And the fights, well you can guess why they tricked us into doing that.”

  “The other two guys,” Rule said, “they were my father and Samuel Cardinal?”

  Uncle Happy formed a gun with his right hand and pointed to Rule, “Correct you are.”

  “And you said that you were a physics major with a 4.0 GPA. I’m sure you stuck out like a sore thumb compared to your teammates.”

  “Right you are. I was told that I’d been on their radar for over a year.”

  “What about my father? What did they want with him?”

  “Your father was a whiz with numbers. If he hadn’t been recruited by the agency, I’m sure he would have ended up being a professor of mathematics at a top university.”

  Rule didn’t say anything else. I think he was thinking about what life could have been like had his father been a professor.

  “So,” I said after clearing my throat, “the reason why we’re here.”

  Uncle Happy nodded.

  “We know bits and pieces about what’s on a videotape,” I said, expecting Uncle Happy to know what I was talking about. “Were you there?”

  He looked at me, and the way his eyes shifted, I wasn’t sure if he was going to
jump out of his seat and strangle me.

  “I was.”

  “What happened?” Rule said.

  Uncle Happy took another sip of his coffee. “It wasn’t supposed to have turned out the way that it did. The Soviets thought that we were Columbian militia there to negotiate an arms trade. We knew that they were major dealers in weapons, especially nuclear, but we didn’t know where they were keeping them stashed. Had the deal gone through, it would have given America the ammo it needed to pursue sanctions against the Soviets.”

  Uncle Happy took in a deep breath before continuing.

  “The meeting place was picked days before the meeting. Besides us, we also had three Marines hidden outside. We didn’t think that we’d need them, but nevertheless they were there. Sam spoke Spanish better than your father and me, so he usually led the discussions because his accent was a little better than ours.”

  “The Soviets spoke Spanish?” I asked.

  “No, they had an interpreter. This wasn’t new to them, so they had processes already in place.”

  Rule and I nodded.

  “So, we get to the meeting place about 0700. There was an elementary school across the street and another warehouse about another fifty yards away. The Soviets came fully armed, which caught us off guard. This wasn’t our first meet and they never came fully armed, so our antennas we on full alert. The meeting was going well. We’d finally settled on a price, and we were going to learn the locations of their weapons when one of their guys raised his M-16.”

  My eyes widened a little at the suspense of the story.

  “At the same time, a voice shouted through my earpiece that the Soviets shot down one of our commercial airplanes.”

  “Wait,” my mind started going through vaults of memories from old TV news stories and I remembered hearing that the Soviet Union admitted to shooting down a commercial airplane. “Are you talking about the Korean flight that had an American representative?”

  “One and the same. It left New York City and was en route to Seoul before it was shot down near Moneron Island. Representative Lawrence McDonald out of Georgia was on that flight.”

 

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