John: The Senior Killer

by Robert C. Waggoner

  The old man said, when the dish hit the floor breaking into many pieces, “What the hell,” and turned to look at John standing there with a sadistic look on his face holding a long steel spike in his hand. A shot of cold fear ran up and down his body knowing this was the serial killer in his house. The old man moved next to his wife and put his arm around her shoulder, all the while never taking his eyes off the deadly weapon.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Chandler it is time to meet your maker. Neither of you are worth much and probably regret that you beat the hell out of your kids when they were young. Well, now is time to pay the piper. Come here the both of you and show me your bedroom.” Slowly they walked past him down a short hall to a small neat bedroom with a hand quilt nicely laid over the top of a stark white bedspread. “Now lay face down on the bed,” he ordered. The old lady and Pete were both shaking with fear and their already white faces were even paler than usual. The old lady started to cry sobbing while she lay down on the bed facing her husband.

  Time was running and John wanted to hurry up this job and get out of town. He moved to the old lady first knowing if he did the old man she might panic. In seconds the sound of steel against bone then tissue stilled the life of the old lady. Quickly he moved around the bed and duplicated the procedure so well perfected by now. As usual he wiped the spike off and returned it to its rightful place on his leg holster. He walked out the door leaving the envelope for the feds to mull over and slipped the flashing yellow light off the roof and took down his US MAIL placard. He tossed his hat in the back seat and changed his shirt. Backing out of the driveway he left the Chandler place whistling a nameless tune. On the way out of town, he stopped at the post office and mailed a letter to the Seattle Times. After that he drove safely back to Spokane where he abandoned his car, again leaving the keys in it. He took a bus to the airport and retrieved his SUV from the parking lot. Then he drove to I-90 and headed west bound completely satisfied with his days’ work.

  ***

  Brad and Mike were sitting in a Buddhist Temple with a North Korean wanting to defect to the Western World. He said he preferred the USA as many agents from the North were in Seoul. His story was anything but usual. He’d been locked underground for years while working on the nuclear bomb. The story he told couldn’t be anything but the truth as it was so startling to the ears of Brad and Mike they both were convinced he told mostly the truth. Rocky gave Brad the look of this is a good guy and that sealed the deal. Now they had to get this guy out of China and down to Seoul for debriefing or onto a US submarine for transport to Guam.

  Codes had been set up in a cell to call to alert Billy they had what they came for. In addition, if a person or persons, including themselves needed evacuating, a phrase agreed upon before they left Seoul would be used for a special pickup. In this case a small cargo ship from South Korea was in dock at Nanjian, just south of Dandong.

  Arrangements made they rode an old truck full of monks down to Nanjian. From there it was fairly simple to sail across to South Korea. Once back on the Korea soil, the North Korean was whisked away by members of the CIA and their counterparts from South Korea. Brad heard later the guy had a wealth of information and would be placed under the witness protection plan in America.

  Steve greeted Brad upon his arrival back in South Korea with bad news. The Senior Killer had struck again in Arden right under the noses of the FBI. Brad was less than curious and Steve felt the vibrations coming from his friend. No doubt he felt used and abused by the new FBI director and his first response to Steve was to let the FBI make the case. He said, rather too forcefully to Steve, “What you’re telling me is that my team is needed and the FBI is crawling back on their hands and knees asking for our help? ’

  “I guess that is it in a nutshell,” Steve replied while sipping a cup of Korea coffee in Brad’s father in laws house. Sujin was starting to show now and her photo showing was a great success. A local popular photography magazine was going to do a full issue of her photos and wanted a contract signed to do more. She was excited and so was Brad.

  Brad said, “I think my team will take some time off and relax on the beach watching the storms come ashore this fall. We are due for a rest and let the Hoover boys and girls take on the serial killer. Besides, Sujin is not getting any smaller and if she needs me I want to be there for her. Now, what I will do is feed the FBI information from the beach house about what we can learn from the computer and his clues that are left scattered around the Pacific Northwest.”

  “That is good enough for me and I will report our meeting back in DC. I’m scheduled to fly out tomorrow and let’s celebrate your successful operation in China.”

  Brad thought that last statement was patronizing as hell, but let it go for now. He still itched all over from the hot days dressed in a wool Buddhist cloak. He yearned for the bath house to relax and cleanse the soul and body. He loved the East and felt more than comfortable in Asia. Sadly, he thought, we better go home and see if we can put this killer behind bars or, better yet, in a cemetery. He felt a rage brewing in his lower bowels that only a death would satiate.

  That night laying on a futon with Sujin they talked about photography, her career in the business, their child being born; and the need for Brad to continue his quest for what is right in the world: freedom. Rocky lie next to their snoring and at peace with the world; probably dreaming of Sandy and their offspring. Brad reached out and rubbed Rocky making the dog give off moaning sounds. Brad said to Sujin, “I know the China operation was important, but I feel used and it gets my gall thinking the political big wigs can play football with the little people.”

  “I don’t completely understand your words, but I feel what you say. You always do what is right and your team knows they come first in your world. I say to you, my husband, take a fresh look at the serial killer and chances are you will see something plain as day you missed before.” Brad hugged her and lay in her arms falling asleep dreaming of their baby to come. Like Rocky, he was at peace with the world, as if only a few hours of sacred time were available.

  The next day they all flew back to the USA. A direct flight took them to Seattle and Nancy met them at the airport. She’d asked Brad by phone if he would take the time to meet with her before taking the NASA jet back to North Bend. He agreed and now they sat upstairs in the airport having something to drink in an airline lounge for first class passengers. The door was locked with a sign that said “Fresh Paint, sorry closed.”

  Nancy gave them the details of the Arden murders and Brad and the team listened carefully. Brad was a little impressed by John and his disguise as a postman. At the end of the meeting he invited Nancy to come to Oregon and she agreed.

  Chapter 17

  November, a year to the date when Steve stood standing on the shore waiting for Brad to come down from Fish Rock where he first heard the news from his boss wanting Brad and his team to take on the job of finding the serial killer roaming around Southern California killing old people. The rain was beginning to fall sideways as the wind from the Pacific storms, once again made its presence known to the Batt Team housed in the Round House on the coast of Oregon.

  Brad was telling his team, along with Nancy who represented the FBI as a special agent in charge, that this would be their last chance of stopping the Senior Killer. Nancy had brought a copy of John’s letter to the newspaper and they were in the process of discussing it now with Nancy once again is reading it while the rest of the team held copies follow her reading:

  “DEAR READERS, BY NOW YOU HAVE THE NEWS OF ARDEN WHERE I GOT LUCKY

  AND HAD A TWO FOR ONE SALE. THIS WAS SO EASY AND YOU THE FBI AND BRAD

  AND HIS TEAM OF MISFITS KNEW I WOULD BE IN ARDEN. I HAVE CLOSED THE

  ‘C’ AND….WELL, OK READERS HERE IS A CLUE WHERE YOU MIGHT FIND ME

  WEARING A TALL HAT AND RIDING A BROOM: HUGE PLANE MADE FOOLS.

  SENIOR JOHN

  Nancy laid the original down and looked at the team. She could faintly hear the ra
in and wind pounding the house. The storm was full force and the same feeling were in Brad’s stomach. He sucked in his breath and looked at his team one by one except Sujin who was resting in their bedroom. Also it wasn’t the storm pounding on the house, it was John pounding on his head that made Brad perk up and say rubbing his temple with one hand and petting Sandy with the other, “Billy. The clue. What do you think?”

  “I think it is a simple one anyone could figure out. A huge plane is Howard Hughes [huge] and the ‘Spruce Goose’ is parked at the plane museum in McMinnville, Oregon. If you take the first letter of McMinnville and the last you have ‘ME.” His next stop is McMinnville, Oregon.”

  “And of course Halloween is the day he will seek his next victim,” agent Jones said as he petted one of Sandy’s pups that was lying on his lap. “What kind of a plan can we put together on Halloween when people are having parties, kids are roaming the streets. Any kind of a costume would not be suspicious; we will be looking for a ghost that kills.”

  Brad, who was now up walking around scratching his short haircut he needed for playing a monk’s role, said, “Guys I’m open for anything to talk about here. I think we need a run on the beach to clear our minds and open our blood channels for fresh oxygen to address this complicated case.” Sandy heard beach and stood at attention as her pups scrabbled to join her. About the same time, Sujin came out of her bedroom dressed in sweats, which had become her usual dress as of late.

  “Let’s go everyone,” Sujin said with a smile on her face while she zipped up her dark green rain coat with an attached hood.

  Nancy told her she would walk on the beach and talk about kids, while the joggers pounded the sand with their running shoes. Billy took the opportunity to dash upstairs and out next to the door for a smoke or three. Brad noticed Billy didn’t have his usual jovial attitude and inwardly smiled knowing Billy and his friends had been working on the clues and were close to some new information. Only Brad knew why Billy smoked so much. He did his best thinking drawing great gobs of smoke sending nicotine coursing through his veins. He wouldn’t be surprised to find out when they returned some new developments in the case.

  Rocky was not a happy German Shepherd when they all took off down the trail to the beach with the pups barking up a storm carrying their barks away on gale force winds. Salt air greeted the runners and walkers as they hurried down the trail in the late afternoon. The rain stung their eyes as once on the beach they headed south this time to feel the sting of the needle like rain on their faces. Sujin and Nancy walked north for protection from the rain coming from the southwest. The storm was too severe to talk so the girls, after a short walk up the beach found some shelter behind a large rock that was only the top of a much larger rock under the beach. Nancy said to Sujin, “How are you and the baby doing?”

  “Much better than I thought I would be doing. Mother was a big help and of course I do my yoga exercises twice a day. My balance of Yin and Yang is good. I’m fine, but I’m worried about Brad and the team. This by far is the most difficult case to date and it is taking its toll on my husband. His having to appease the political side of things while doing what he thinks is necessary to catch the guy, even though this guy seems to come and go at will has put a real strain on my husband.”

  “Yes,” Nancy said while drawing lines in the sand with a walking stick she had picked up off the beach, “I feel a hundred year old these days. My boss is not helping matters yelling at me from Washington telling me how many phone calls come in wondering what the FBI is doing about the Senior Killer. That is one reason I readily agreed to come down here to get away from his phone calls.” To accentuate the point she was making, a powerful gust of wind whipped around the rock bring with it mixed with the rain sea water that both tasted on their lips as they dropped their heads down to their chests. Both decided it was time for some hot tea sitting on the floor next to the wood stove where the elements were not so bad; only the gloom of the case hung over like the dark clouds racing across the sky.

  The team jogged along together feeling the salt spray of the wind whipped sea mix with the sweat of running. It salt water burned their eyes, but all endured while driving their bodies to the limit. Brad and Mike were in a race to see who gave up first with agent Jones and Wendy not far behind. They were running as close to the surf as possible because that is where the sand was the hardest. Not always did they time it right with the ebb and flow by the sea. Wet feet and sand laden shoes rubbed like sandpaper against the skin of their feet. All felt the pain and none cared. It was like they were on a mission and come hell or high tide they were going to take Senior John to the sand.

  ***

  Senior Killer John was just coming through the small town of Roy, Washington just a few miles north of Yelm and the turn off to the Bald Hill Road. He was going home to visit his brothers. Now was the time to throw a real monkey wrench into the case by having two kills at the same time. He turned left on Vail Road to Four Corners where the Bald Hills Road went east to his pig farm. He was driving his SUV and would park in a different location than before. From there he would walk through the woods just as it was getting dark to the barn. Just as darkness was the feeding time for the pigs and he knew one brother would be working in the barn at that time. Thirty minutes later after parking on an old logging road, with his boots on looking like a pig farmer he made his way to the barn knowing the FBI still had a stakeout on the farm. His rage was building again inside him and by the time he sneaked into the barn he was about to tell his brothers the plan to rock the country with a double killing on Halloween night.

  His brother never batted an eye when he saw John in the barn. The pigs were squealing and the smell not so bad as the rain kept the strong smell of pig waste and rotten food to a minimum. His brother told him the stake out car was just down the way a little bit and that it was no problem to sneak into the kitchen and down the stairs to the safety of the room that was more home to them than the upstairs. The brothers enlarged the room and it was complete now with power. Nobody knew they were triplets and not twins. Their mother had a midwife deliver the babies and after she had left, mother had another smaller one pop out. Birth certificates for two not three were made out. Why, nobody knew but the father and mother and neither one were alive to tell the tale. The last one was a little retarded, but capable of taking care of the pigs and self if left alone. He lived under the kitchen and took his food when there was a knock on the floor.

  John was the oldest and the one his brothers followed as to what he said. The three of them sat under the kitchen listening to John’s plan for his brother to make a kill on his own. They talked for a few hours and John left the way he came to head to the coast of Oregon where he knew the Batt Team were planning making a plan for McMinnville.

  Back at the Round House that was exactly what the team was doing. An idea that Billy had was being discussed around the floor table while they ate dinner. By now the team was used to the pungent smell of Kimchee. At first Wendy, Nancy and agent Jones thought the smell of fermented cabbage revolting, but now it blended nicely with the spicy smells that went with the traditional side dish. Tonight the air was filled with garlic and onions cooking on a gas BBQ while tender beef strips that had been marinated in the saga that was similar with a Teriyaki cooked while they talked about Billy’s idea of holding a Senior Halloween party where John just might show up thinking it was easy pickings on Halloween night.

  Mike said, “We could have two of us at the door taking tickets and,” while he thought about it rubbing his hair that was similar to Brads cut, “how do we know when someone leaves with him that they aren’t leaving with a friend or wife or whatever?”

  “Darn good question,” Brad said while rubbing Rockies belly. Sandy had the night shift with her pups and Rocky was in heaven now that all the team was in one place so he could relax while they ate. “We need to figure out some kind of system for checking ID leaving. What could we come up with that wouldn’t scare our John off?�
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  Agent Jones said with a mouthful of beef, “I’m not liking this idea very much. I think we have too many loose ends and not enough control over the situation.”

  “Do you have any other ideas agent Jones,” Brad said trying to keep his tone of voice soft and inviting.

  Agent Jones squirmed a little and took a sip of tea and said, “Well, it is kind of a far out idea and I haven’t thought it all the way through, but what do you think of this idea,” and he told them about having a special showing of the Spruce Goose with a special person who knows the complete and step by step of the conception of the idea to its first flight.” He looked around the table at each of them to see what or how his idea was being accepted.

  “Agent Jones,” Mike said excitedly, “I think you are on to something here. I like it. We could control the incoming and outgoing. We need covert cameras along with stills to see who is what car and when that car is leaving if it has more than when it came in, maybe we have our man.”

  “Hey we can have the FBI trailer set up for receiving the video along with a digital hand held camera with a direct feed to a computer. License plates and what else,” Billy asked while reaching for a cigarette forgetting he was in a non-smoking house.