“It wasn’t personal. It was just business. Besides, he needs to die for what he did to you.”
“And to you.”
“And to mother. Moreover, you know Donati doesn’t take kindly to anyone who turns him down. Do you remember Carson?”
“I remember there was more to his murder than him simply saying no to Donati. I heard that one of Donati’s guards tried to stop Carson when he left, and he broke the guard’s neck and put another guard in the hospital.”
“But the guards only tried to stop Carson because he turned down Donati’s contract.”
“That’s true, but I turned him down once, and I’m still among the living.”
“Yeah, but you and I both know that was before Carson. Now Donati’s even more obstinate than he used to be.”
“You may be right, but I know that’s not why you called. Why did you?”
“As I said, I screwed up killing Morgan and Donati has given me just twenty-four hours to clean up what he considers to be my mess. I’ve already tried to get to Morgan at the hospital, but they seemed to be waiting for me. I don’t think I’d have a snowballs chance on the sun to finish the job now. And even if Morgan dies before the twenty-four hours are up, if I don’t do it myself Donati will know.”
“I agree you wouldn’t have a chance of getting to him now and yes, Donati will know if Morgan dies on his own. Do you want me to lose you?” Roman was sure that’s why she called now that he understood her dilemma.
“Yes, please. Are you back in LA?” It was his usual base of operations.
“I am.”
“Do you think you can? I mean can you bury me deep enough so that Donati can’t find me?” She knew he was probably the only one who could. She suspected he had an even bigger network than Donati did. Donati had long arms, but Roman had long arms and big hands. Maybe he could.
“I’m sure I can hide you for a time. But you know Donati will never give up. You’ll no doubt have a large price on your head before a day passes beyond your deadline.” He knew as well as she did Donati didn’t put up with failure.
“I’m sure you’re right, but maybe I can figure out what to do if I can get some time by myself to think. I haven’t had any time since Donati called me to let me know I failed to kill Morgan. Please help me, Roman.”
“Okay! Meet me at our old stomping grounds just after dark tonight, and I’ll see what I can do.” Roman knew Miranda would know where he was talking about. They always met on the grounds of their grade school. Though it had been a few years since they had laid eyes on each other, Roman knew she would still know where the school was. That was something you didn’t forget.
“I’ll be there. I’ll also need a little traveling money too if you can spare it.” She still had a little money left from her last job, but it wouldn’t last long. Things tended to be expensive when you were on the run. She knew Roman would help her out. He always did. He owed her. She had helped him several times before when he was down on his luck.
As soon as Roman hung up his phone rang again. He knew who it would be before he answered.
The hospital guard who was still standing came up and spoke to Adam. “Are you the three that came with Agent Jackson?”
“We are,” Robert said.
He held out a nurse’s gown. “I found this near where Harmon was shot. I suppose I can leave it with you. Maybe the FBI can get some DNA off it.”
“Harmon was the other guard looking for the woman who tried to get to Morgan?”
The guard nodded. “Yes. I assume the killer ditched this gown.”
Robert took the gown. “That’s a logical assumption. I’ll give this to Agent Jackson. She probably took it off before you guys started to look for her.” Actually, Robert had a different idea for the gown, but he’d wait until the guard left before he handed it to Adam.
“I’ll go inside and call the morgue so they can come and retrieve…Harmon’s…body,” He said hesitantly as he pounded his fists against his thighs. “I hope you guys catch her. She needs to pay.”
“She will,” Robert nodded hesitatingly while shuffling his feet. “You can trust us. We’ll get her.”
The guard nodded and headed for the hospital.
Chapter 52
As soon as the guard was out of sight, Ken handed the gown Miranda had worn to Adam. Adam’s mind immediately expanded and his body showed its usual manifestations. In his vision, he saw the “nurse” and someone else he recognized though he’d only seen him once before in another vision. He also noticed children’s playground equipment such as monkey bars, swings, and slides. Nobody bothered Adam not wanting to interrupt whatever was happening to him.
As soon as Adam returned to himself, Jenny started to ask, “What did…” But Ken stepped on her question with his own. “Did you get anything useful?”
“I saw…our nurse, at least I think it was her, and I have no reason to think it wasn’t her since we’re presuming this is the gown she was wearing,” he shook the gown as if it was the gown’s fault. “With her, I saw someone I saw before in another vision.”
“Oh yeah,” Ken said. “What was that one about?”
“Remember I mentioned that a friend of mine was killed during a revolutionary war reenactment?”
“I remember.”
“Well, when I first saw his body I touched it and saw a vision of who shot him.”
“And that was who you saw in this vision?” Robert asked.
Adam nodded.
“And you’re sure it was him? Oh, I’m sorry,” Ken said, “I know you’re always sure of what you see.”
Adam didn’t say anything for a moment and then shook his head. “I never intended to give you that impression. My visions are usually telling, but occasionally I’m not sure what or who I saw. But, in this case, I’m fairly sure it was the same man.”
“Did he have something distinctive like the scar on Morgan’s face?” Jenny asked hopefully, pointing at her left cheek.
“Nothing like that but he was a large man, and from what I saw, he had huge hands. They were wrapped around the rifle he was holding as if the rifle was a toy instead of a lethal weapon spewing instant death.” Adam ended his tirade with a pained expression as he glanced from one confused face to another.
Jenny broke the ensuing silence. “Was that a commercial for gun control,” she said with a smirk that turned to a grin and then to an embarrassed frown. “I’m sorry,” she said looking at her feet, “that was mean. I know…” She didn’t complete the thought.
No one said anything until Adam broke their relative quiet. “No. I’m the one who should be sorry. Sometimes I step up on my soapbox without realizing I’m doing so. But back to the problem at hand.” He turned to Robert. “I’m pretty sure it was the same man I saw in my previous vision. The one who killed Phillip Mardoff.” He moved his focus to include Ken. “The nurse and the man were in some kind of park, or somewhere else there’s playground equipment.”
“Such as?” Ken asked.
“Things like swings and slides. But it was relatively dark so I couldn’t see much else.”
“Was it a park or maybe a grade school?”
“It could have been either. I really can’t say. As I said, it was dark.”
“Do you think they’re meeting tonight or later?”
Adam shrugged nervously taking two steps forward and then two steps backward to return to the same spot before he answered. “There’s no way to know that kind of detail. It’s not like there was a calendar in my vision.” Adam was taken by surprise at his own snide remark. There wasn’t any way for anybody but him to know what a small amount of information was in most of his visions. Sometimes his vision would tell an entire story, but usually not. He had to say something to the surprised faces. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be snippy. But there was no way I could tell. There wasn’t any kind of reference in the vision.”
“I’m afraid that’s not a lot of help,” Ken said running his hand through his sh
ort hair and kicking at a small rock. “There must be hundreds of grade schools in LA and probably almost as many parks.”
“Probably,” Adam agreed. But that’s all I have for you, he said to himself.
“I would imagine the cops in LA patrol the parks and schools,” Robert put in. “I know we do in Morgantown. We have to watch for drug dealers, gangs, and other things.”
“That’s probably true,” Ken agreed. “I guess I could ask them to step up their patrols and be on the watch for a tall guy with a girl. Other than that, we don’t have anything to tell them. Even if we had a description of the girl, they wouldn’t be able to pick her out in the dark unless they could focus a spotlight on her.”
“No doubt,” Robert said wetting his lips and nodding with a jerk. “Unfortunately I don’t have any better ideas.”
Ken shook his head wiping his hand over his mouth. “Me either.” He reached toward Adam. “Give me the gown, and I’ll have it taken to the lab at the FBI. Maybe they can get some DNA or something. It’s a long shot, but it’s all we have at this point. And then I suggest we have our drivers take us to our hotel so we can get some sleep. What do you say we have them bring us back at nine tomorrow so maybe we can talk to Morgan.”
“If he survives the night,” Adam said.
Ken shrugged. “It’s out of our hands at this point. I’ll go get our drivers and have the FBI send some more men to the hospital as well as have whoever’s left hit the street. I’ll also check on the agent that got shot.”
“All good ideas,” Robert said. “We’ll wait here. Don’t forget to have one of the FBI agents tell the city cops to step up their patrols.”
Ken nodded and headed for the front door of the hospital.
Roman parked two blocks away from the grade school as the sun was beginning to set. He noticed the bright red hues fading into the oranges. Anybody else might have been mesmerized by the spectacle, but the colors were only a passing fancy to Roman as he concentrated on his purpose of the night. He walked beside the chain link fence surrounding the playground until he found the gate. As expected, the padlocked chain on the gate was cut, and the gate was open. He went in and stood beside the swings where he and Miranda had always met before.
He waited only a couple of minutes before he heard a tentative voice behind him. “Roman…Is that you?”
He held up his hand as if he were surrendering. “Do you know anyone else with hands this big?” If anyone else had said anything about his hands, he would have shown them what his big hands could do, but he could get away with teasing himself. He only mirrored taunts that had been hurled at him more times than he could count.
Miranda ran the few steps she had left and encircled her brother’s waist. Her reach barely allowed her hands to touch. She squeezed. “I’ve missed you.”
He pulled himself free and leaned down to wrap his arms around her. He lifted her several inches off the ground. “How have you been?” he whispered in her ear.
“Only so, so. The Feds have been hot on my trail for the last two years.”
“I heard,” Roman set her down. “Who did you kill to get them so hot and bothered?” He thought he knew, but there had been several rumors about it, and several assassinations had taken place at about the same time, any of which could have been her doing.
“That diplomat from the African country nobody’s ever heard of—Gambala or something like that. He was trying to make a deal to get the US to furnish his side in their civil war with weapons. The other side didn’t want that to happen.”
“But the US still gave them the weapons after the assassination anyway didn’t they?”
“Yeah, I guess the army felt guilty because I’d killed one of the countries national heroes. Apparently, he’d saved a bunch of school kids and their teachers from being killed by finding a bomb before it exploded. But the fact that the arms deal went through anyway wasn’t my fault.”
“And you knew he’d saved a bunch of kids before you killed him?”
“Of course I did. But they paid me so well I simply had to do it. After all, he wasn’t my hero.”
“I understand. I’d have taken the contract too.” He backed several steps away from her. He pulled his pistol from his pocket. “As a matter of fact, I just accepted a contract from Donati.”
“Not you…” She shivered and not because it was cold. “I knew Donati would send someone, but you?”
“Just as you said about Morgan, it’s not personal. It’s only a contract. And, as you also said, it’s not wise to turn down a contract from Donati.”
“Can’t we talk about this?” She thought about running, but she knew she couldn’t outrun a bullet and that Roman was a dead shot. He was almost as good as she was. People had tried to run from her, but she never missed. He wouldn’t either. “Please Roman. We’ve always watched out for each other,” she pleaded, clutching at her throat as she suddenly began to breathe rapidly as if she couldn’t catch her breath.
“From now on I’ll have to watch out for myself,” Roman said as he put a bullet through her heart. His face was the last thing she saw as she collapsed. Roman’s bullet passed through Miranda’s body and ricocheted off the monkey bars thirty feet behind her. The drug dealer and his customer transacting business near the monkey bars, both drew their guns and returned fire thinking the shot was meant for them. Both of their shots missed Roman by several feet because they were firing blind. They had not seen his shot, only heard it.
Roman didn’t know what was happening except that he had to protect himself. The drug dealer ran away from the monkey bars, knelt, and fired wildly again. Roman saw the muzzle flash and fired at the flash. He was rewarded by a grunt of pain as his bullet caught the dealer in the chest. The customer had been waiting for a target and saw Roman’s flash. He fired in Roman’s general direction, and Roman heard the bullet ping off the chain of the swing beside him. He’d also caught that muzzle flash and returned fire automatically. He again was rewarded by a shriek as his bullet found its target he couldn’t see but, apparently, his estimates were better than either of his antagonists. Roman waited for a few seconds, but when he heard no more shots, he calmly walked away as if he were just out for his nightly constitutional.
Harry Marvless was watching his favorite TV show when he heard the gunfire from across the street. He had lived across the street from the grade school ever since his two sons went to the grade school. That was why he and Harriet had bought the house in the first place. They had figured it would be safe enough for their two boys to walk across the street to go to school. And it had been. One of his sons graduated from college last year, and his older son was now a Major in the army. However, the neighborhood had slowly deteriorated over the years until it was no longer safe for kids or adults. Harry had put his house on the market several times, but he couldn’t get anywhere close to his asking price even though he had lowered it several times. He and Harriet would probably just have to stay in their house. They could not take that big a loss on the sale. What they got for the house was supposed to serve as part of their retirement fund.
Harry got up from his chair and grabbed his double-barrel shotgun from the coat closet. Harriet was immediately by his side. She grabbed his arm without much conviction. “What do you think you’re doing?”
He shrugged her off easily. “No more! I’m not putting up with it no more.”
“Any more,” she said automatically. Harriet had been an English teacher for thirty years and was constantly correcting Harry’s use of the language just as she had her students. He had learned long ago not to argue because he’d worked construction for the same thirty years and knew the people he worked with were good at their jobs, but none of them were scholars. He’d picked up their speech patterns including some of the more salty language which had always ruffled Harriet’s feathers. “But what are you going to do with that shotgun?”
“I’m going to do what I’ve tried to do before. But you don’t have to worry. I’m only
going to scare them. It’s not even loaded.” That was a lie. His shotgun was loaded. He wasn’t about to face down a gang member or maybe several with an unloaded shotgun. He knew the punks around here wouldn’t hesitate to blow him away, so he had to at least pretend he was willing to do the same to them. However, he was truthful about the other part. Because all he had loaded was rock salt. It wouldn’t kill them, but it would sure hurt like the dickens. He didn’t intend to kill anyone, but he wasn’t above inflicting a bit of pain. They no doubt deserved it. And he only wanted to stop their intrusions into his neighborhood. The cops certainly weren’t doing anything about it.
“Don’t go out there you old fool,” she said grabbing his arm again with more force this time.
He shrugged her off just as easily as before. She was no match for the strength he’d gained over the years. His arthritis made it painful to jerk his arms around, but it hadn’t diminished his ability to do so. He opened the door and stepped out on the porch. “Don’t go, Harry,” she was pleading now with her arms hanging loosely at her sides knowing she couldn’t physically stop him. A tear trickled down one cheek. He ignored her and took the two steps down to the sidewalk.
The Dog Who Ate The Flintlock Page 37