Secret Shepherd

by James Osborne

  “Listen to me, Malcolm!” Paul said, raising his voice. “I need your help! Damn it, man! Your support is crucial to the important work the foundation has set for itself. We’re just getting started. I’ve no time, nor do I wish to build a new relationship with someone else like the one you and I have built together. Resign if you must, but I will accept your resignation only on one condition.”

  “What is that, Milord?”

  “That you allow me to hire you back immediately.”

  There was a long silence.

  “Are you still there, Malcolm?” Paul asked.

  “Yes Milord,” Malcolm said.

  “And your answer?” Paul said.

  “Well, um, I guess so, sir,” Malcolm said. “I suppose so.”

  “Good,” Paul said. He felt a huge sense of relief. “Did I hear you resign?”

  “Yes Milord.”

  “You’re hired Malcolm.”

  “Yes Milord.”

  “Good night, Malcolm. We’ll talk later.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Go have that stiff drink, or two!”

  “Yes Milord.”

  Both men chuckled as they hung up.

  Chapter Seventy-Four

  Microtel Inn

  Knoxville, TN

  “Ya should’ve stayed the fuck away from here, asshole!” Izad Rajavi said. “They could track you right to me!”

  “Fuck you!” Martin Semaka shot back. “A lot of fuckin’ help y’all been! I reckon I shoulda done it myself. Y’all’ve been nothin’ but a fuckin’ pain in the ass!”

  “Are you trying to blame me for missing that prick, Winston?” Rajavi said, squinting at Semaka. “It was your stupid idea that I use your dad’s big fuckin’ elephant gun. What the hell for? One of those hunting rifles I saw in your dad’s cabinet woulda done the job! Besides, that big sucker’s a bitch to lug around... big and awkward and heavy... sticks out like a fuckin’ sore thumb.”

  “Never y’all fuckin’ mind,” Martin retorted. “I can handle it even if y’all cain’t. Reckon I shoulda come back from Germany earlier... mighta kept y’all from screwing up on me. Tonight I’m gonna show y’all how to get the fuckin’ job done right!”

  Rajavi glared back. A few seconds later he grinned and burst out laughing, “I threw the key to your fucking house inta the pool. You’re gonna have to swim for it. I tried to throw it on the pool cover but it skidded off inta the deep end. Tough shit!”

  Rajavi laughed again as he remembered.

  Semaka’s grey green eyes glared back at Rajavi.

  “Prick!” Semaka said.

  “How’re ya gonna do it?” Rajavi challenged, shifting the subject.

  “It’s fuckin’ easy, man,” Semaka said. “I’m gonna wait ‘til they go to bed. Then pop him... then her and the brats, too.”

  “You’re shittin’ me!” Rajavi said. “That’s a stupid idea! You ever done anything like this before?”

  “Screw you!”

  “There’s guards and hotel staff all over the place. I’ve done jobs like this before. You won’t make it to the fuckin’ stairs, dipshit!”

  “Fuck you too,” Semaka said, pulling out a 45 caliber Ruger. “Nine rounds. This outta handle that. I’m gonna take the big gun too, to use on that prick Winston. I’m gonna put a hole in that bastard y’all can drive a fuckin’ semi through!”

  “Where the hell did you get that fuckin’ Ruger?” Rajavi said. “Wow! That’s a beaut!”

  “Hey, I live in this area, right?” Martin said. “I fuckin’ know people. Called them from Germany.”

  Rajavi looked at his watch. It was closing in on midnight.

  “We got time for a few more drinks before we gotta go,” he said. Rajavi handed the bottle of tequila to Semaka who half-filled a paper cup and handed it back. Both opened their fourth beer and each grabbed a wedge of lime.

  They drank in silence, watching a second-rate wrestling special on the motel’s flat screen TV.

  Finally, Rajavi said, “I’m gonna drive you to the hotel and drop you off. And then I’m gonna wait outside till you’re done.”

  “What the fuck?” Semaka said. “I went and got another Ruger for y’all... and ammo. It’s in ma bag. I was counting on y’all for backup!”

  “Screw you, man!” Rajavi said. “I got no backup from you last time!”

  “I was in Germany, fuckface,” Semaka said. “How the hell could I?”

  “I ain’t gonna cover your ass,” Rajavi said. “Thought you said you had this. You fuck up, man... I’m outta here, or I’ll get fucked too!”

  “You miserable prick!” Semaka said. “Why don’t y’all just screw off? Reckon I cain do just fine without y’all! Fuck off!”

  “Bugger you!” Rajavi said. His smile was more like a triumphant sneer. “You don’t have a friggin’ car, prick! Remember? I got the car... the keys are mine. I said I’ll drive you and I will. Besides, I wanna make fuckin’ sure you take care of Winston. I’ve a score to settle with that son-of-a-bitch too, ya know. You pop him. We’ll collect a pile of money. A hundred big ones! Pop his bitch and the brats, another three hundred big ones. Cool!”

  “Screw the money,” Semaka said. “Y’all should be all the way in on this, you cheesy prick.”

  “Listen,” Rajavi shot back. “If you don’t fuck up, I’ll pick you up in the alley beside The Inn like I said. We’ll take off... hide out like when we offed that fuckin’ terrorist kook from England.”

  “Y’all piss me off!” Semaka said.

  Each tossed back another shot of tequila, guzzled a beer, and threw the empty cans toward a trashcan in the corner, landing them wide like most of the others. They headed for the door.

  ***

  Microtel Parking Lot

  “Hey sweet cheeks, how’re y’all doin’?” Semaka said. “Wanna party?”

  “Get lost,” the petite young woman replied. She had just closed the car door. She immediately started fumbling, trying to get her key in the door lock again, to get away from the men harassing her.

  “Aw, c’mon,” Semaka said, moving closer to her.

  The young woman backed away from him, her eyes wide with fear.

  “Leave me alone or I’ll scream!” she said.

  “What the fuck’s the matter with y’all?” Semaka said. “Aah’m just pickin’ wid ya… just invitin’ y’all to have some fun.”

  He stepped closer and grabbed her right arm. He pulled her close and tried to kiss her. His other hand clutched a huge rifle.

  The young woman thrust her left knee upward into his groin.

  Semaka fell to his knees, groaning.

  “Serves you fuckin’ right,” Rajavi said. He laughed as the woman ran toward the motel lobby.

  Semaka and Rajavi stumbled toward Rajavi’s rental car, laughing as they heard the young woman bang frantically on the motel office door.

  ***

  Motel Office

  “This is 911. What is the nature of your emergency?”

  “My name is Ashley Thompson. I’m staying in Room 216 at the Microtel Motel on North Peters Road.”

  “Yes, Ms. Thompson. Please describe your emergency.”

  “I was jist assaulted by two drunks in the parkin’ lot,” she said. “They jumped into a car! They’re driving out of the parking lot right now.”

  “Were y’all sexually assaulted?”

  “No. But one of them tried to... tried to force himself onta me! I tried to get back inta my car but he wouldn’t let me”

  “Are you injured?”

  “Just bruised,” Ashley said. “One a them grabbed my arm hard. He hurt me, but I got away. The guy was carrying a humungous gun.”

  “It’s legal to own and carry a licensed rifle in this state, ma’am.”

  “One that’s almost six feet long?” Stacey said. “I’m a hunter. I know guns. That thing’s so big they had trouble getting it in their car. They shouldn’t be handling firearms... or driving. They’re both falling down drunk.”
/>
  “Oh. We’ll send someone to check things out. Do you know in what direction they were headed?”

  “East... I think... on North Peters Road,” Ashley said.

  “Did you get a plate number, ma’am?”

  Ashley read off the partial number she’d scribbled down quickly in the half-light. She told the 911 operator she’d just got back to the motel after a wedding when the two drunks accosted her.

  “No one is in immediate danger... is that correct?” the operator asked.

  “Yes,” Ashley replied. “They’re gone.”

  “An officer will come around to speak with y’all. Will y’all be awake for a while? We’re kinda backlogged at the moment.”

  “I will be now,” Ashley replied.

  ***

  Rogersville

  “Y’all drop me off by the alley,” Semaka said. “Pick me up there, too.”

  Rajavi drove the rental past the Hale Springs Inn, pulled a U-turn and parked at the curb between streetlights.

  “How’re ya gonna get in?” Rajavi asked.

  “Gotta key to the back door of the restaurant.” Semaka said. “Money can buy y’all most anythin’.”

  “How long?” Rajavi asked. He looked at his watch. It was nearly two in the morning.

  “How the fuck should I know?” Semaka said. “It’ll take as long as it takes. Just y’all fuckin’ be here when I’m done.”

  He got out of the car, opened the back door, and with some difficulty pulled out his father’s six-foot elephant gun. He reached behind his back to check on the Ruger tucked in his belt under his jacket.

  Semaka lugged the heavy gun over his shoulder as he staggered drunkenly down the alley toward the back of the hotel. Rajavi decided to back the car into the alley so he could watch Semaka in the rear-view mirrors until he reached the back door.

  ***

  Lobby,

  Hale Springs Inn

  “Where the hell y’all goin’ with that thing Martin?” night manager, Alf Barany, asked, staring wide-eyed at the elephant gun. Years ago, they’d attended high school together. “Reckon, y’all outta know better than to bring that damned thing in here!”

  Semaka said nothing as he walked to the front desk in the dimly lit lobby where Barany was standing. He smiled at Alf and looked around. Behind him, a man in the lobby was asleep in a chair.

  He reached around and pulled out the Ruger, and shot Alf in the forehead. Turning, he fired twice into the chest of the man in the chair who’d been startled awake by the first shot.

  Semaka stumbled toward the stairs leading up to the second floor. Just before he reached the bottom step, he heard two shots. A bullet clipped the left sleeve of his jacket, nicking his arm.

  “I was expecting you,” Paul Winston said from the top of the stairs. He recognized Semaka from a photo in the FBI file Helen Cabrera had shown him. “Drop your weapon!” he called out. “Now!”

  Paul had leapt from bed in their second-floor suite the instant he heard the first shot in the lobby. He’d barely slept since Pamela Milliken had been killed at their table in the restaurant. He’d grabbed his Glock and headed for the stairs to the lobby.

  Anne followed him to the door as she dialed 911.

  “Lock the door!” Paul had said. He kissed Anne, touched her face affectionately, and pulled the heavy wood antique door closed. He waited until he heard the newly installed deadbolt lock. As he’d reached the top of the stairs, he’d caught sight of Semaka and fired.

  Semaka dove behind an overstuffed sofa in the lobby, steadied the elephant gun on the back of the sofa, and fired back. The 60-caliber bullet shattered the white painted railing a foot from where Paul had taken cover around a corner overlooking the lobby. A cloud of wood chips went flying from the hardwood handrail. Paul knew if the shot had been into the wall, the huge bullet would have gone through and hit him with deadly force.

  “I told you to drop your weapon!” Paul shouted. He fired again and ducked back behind the corner. “Do it now! The police are on their way.”

  Paul popped out again from behind the corner and fired twice more at the back of the sofa, hoping to convince Semaka to surrender.

  Semaka’s alcohol-impaired planning hadn’t anticipated Paul being awake, much less armed. He realized too late that his shots would wake guests and the remaining night staff.

  Paul fired another shot at the back of the sofa as he raced down the stairs.

  Semaka grabbed his Ruger and fired twice. Paul dove for cover behind a big upholstered chair beside the stairway. One bullet grazed his left thigh muscle as he dove. The leg crumbled, throwing him facedown.

  One more bullet slammed into the side of the stairway above his head.

  Paul spun over onto his back and fired twice. He heard a shouted curse.

  Sounds like I winged him, he thought.

  He was getting low on ammunition. Lying on his back, he reloaded quickly from the handful he’d grabbed while rushing out of the suite.

  Paul peeked out. In the dim light, he could just make out the shadow of Semaka sitting with his back to the sofa. It looked like he was holding his left shoulder. Paul guessed that one of his bullets had hit Semaka, knocking him back onto his butt.

  As Paul took aim again, Semaka scrambled to his knees and hid against the sofa. Paul caught a fleeting glimpse of him, and Semaka’s left shoulder was indeed bleeding. Semaka fired twice more, wildly this time in the general direction of the stairway. Paul watched him scan the lobby. He guessed Semaka was estimating how far he was from the door. Paul guessed thirty feet.

  The look on Semaka’s face told Paul that his assailant realized he had failed.

  What a screw-up! Paul thought. He suspected Semaka was wondering if he could make an escape.

  Semaka grabbed the huge rifle with his left hand. It was obvious it was all he could do to hold the big weapon as he ran for the door. Semaka fired the Ruger twice more wildly over his shoulder in the general direction of the stairway.

  Paul watched through a lobby window as Semaka race down the alley toward a car that was parked facing the street.

  Paul ran for the door. He heard a shot and felt a spray of wood chips from the door casing. Semaka was crouched behind a bench, the huge elephant gun resting on the back of it. Paul ducked back into the lobby as flame erupted from the gun muzzle again.

  A window to Paul’s right overlooked the alley. It was in shadow. He crouched and ran to the far side, peeking around the frame. He could see Semaka aiming the big gun at the door, ready for another shot.

  I need to break the window while taking a shot at the same time, he reasoned.

  Crouching beside a corner of the window, Paul steadied the Glock with both hands, visualizing the shot he needed to take and to be accurate.

  Paul stood quickly, took aim, and quickly fired twice at the figure, seventy-five feet away crouched behind the park bench.

  Shit, I missed!

  The bullets shattered a board on the back of the bench.

  Semaka ducked and swung the big rifle in his direction, but apparently changed his mind. He pulled a handgun from his belt and fire two shots wildly over his shoulder as he ran toward the car parked in the alley.

  Paul took aim again through the window but held fire. Shooting at the retreating Semaka at that distance might result in bullets going far astray, endangering others asleep nearby.

  As he started to go check on the desk clerk and the security guard he heard a shrill scream.

  “PAUL!!!”

  It was Anne’s voice upstairs.

  “Paul, please help us!!” Anne screamed again. He heard a shot.

  Paul ran for the stairs, taking two at a time.

  He turned the corner of the corridor and saw Anne standing at the door to their suite holding the Berretta he’d bought for her after they arrived.

  “He’s gone,” Anne said. She dropped the handgun onto the carpet as if it was red hot.

  Paul rushed to her.

  “What
happened?”

  “Someone tried to break in,” she said. “He broke the lock with a rock.

  “There it is,” she said, pointing to a five-inch rock lying on the carpet against the wall of the corridor. He got in, but when I shot at him, he ran away. I don’t think I hit him. I hope not!”

  Paul gathered her into his arms while Doug and Catherine scampered out to join them in the corridor.

  After a few minutes, Paul asked Anne, “Can you call 911 with an update? I need to check on two people in the lobby. They’ve been shot. I’ll come right back and join you. Okay?”

  Anne nodded and led the children into the suite.

  Paul returned to the lobby to check on the night clerk and the security guard. Both were dead. He phoned 911 to report the homicides and provide descriptions of Semaka and the getaway car.

  ***

  Semaka opened the car door and shouted, “Drive!” He wrestled with the elephant gun, thrusting it over the front seat into the back, and looked at the driver’s side.

  No one was there.

  “What the fuck?” Semaka said. He looked for the keys. None. He climbed into the passenger seat and looked around for Rajavi.

  “What the hell happened?” Rajavi asked as he jumped in and slammed the driver’s door.

  “Where the hell have y’all been?” Semaka shouted. “Get moving! We need to get the fuck outta here.”

  He was trying to decide whether to demand Rajavi tell him where he’d been, or explain what had happened with him, much to his discomfort after having cursed Rajavi earlier for his failure.

  As Rajavi accelerated the car down Main Street, Semaka shouted, “Not that fast, for Christ’s sake, man... it’ll draw attention.”

  “Make up your fuckin’ mind!” Rajavi shouted back.

  “Where’d y’all go?” Semaka asked again, trying to calm down. “I thought y’all said you’d be in the car ready to go.”

  “I went to their room,” Rajavi said. “I was gonna kill the bitch and maybe one or both of the kids. Hey, they’re worth a hundred-k each. She had a fucking gun... took a shot at me. Damned near hit me. I got the hell outta there. What about you?”