“She’s not my girl My Gray.”
“You brought her to me, you fat fuck!”
“You wanted the kind of kids she could find.”
“Not from our own god-damned backyard! You heard the general.”
The chief wiped the sweat from his bald head, “She’s supposed to get them from the city, she must have got desperate when you had me pressure her for more.”
“You need to talk to her.”
“We could have another problem.”
“What the fuck else?”
“There’s some nosy guy asking too many questions.”
“A family member?”
“No, a drifter. A guy named Glenn that rolled into town, working as a cook at the Lookout Diner. He was pointing fingers at Andromeda.”
“A cook named Glenn?”
“Yeah, he’s shacking up with one of the missing boys’ mom.”
“No fucking way! He can’t be that fucking stupid.”
“Who?”
“Chief, you may have found my AWOL soldier.”
The chief stood up. “If need be, you could frame this guy for their disappearance. I already let him know he was under suspicion.”
“Call your men, have this guy picked up now. I want to see him. And tell them to treat him as armed and highly dangerous.”
“He didn’t seem all that dangerous.”
“Trust me chief, he’s well trained and deadly. But I want him alive. He belongs to me.”
Chapter Twelve
Wednesday, August 10, 1983
9:45 AM, Roadside Diner, NY
Glenn sat on a red-upholstered stool at the counter, tapping his fingers to Bruce Springsteen’s Hungry Heart, playing on through the tabletop jukebox speakers littered across the diner. A near middle-age waitress approached, fixing her hair.
Like a river that don't know where it's flowing, I took a wrong turn, and I just kept going
“Hey, cowboy.”
He looked her up and down and read her name tag, “Alice. ”
“Hi darling. How you doing, this morning.”
“Any better and they’d be making copies, sweetie. You want some coffee?”
“Please, and I’ll take some eggs over-easy with bacon and toast.”
He watched her as she walked to the coffee pots. Beyond he noticed the used car lot across the street. She placed a filled metal creamer in front of him and filled his cup with coffee.
“You hear about those boys that went missing from that carnival in Montauk?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Five days now. They say the longer it goes, the less likely you’ll ever find them.”
He picked up his cup and stared into its darkness. He asked himself what he was doing. Why he was running. He escaped the program years ago and has been running ever since.
“I have a boy that age,” she said. “I think I’d lose my mind if that was my kid that went missing.”
“I know the woman whose son it is.”
“Oh, my God. She must be a mess.”
“Yeah,” he mumbled as he again looked to the car dealership outside.
“You tell her we’re all praying for her and her boy. If there was anything anyone could do, they would.”
Everybody's got a hungry heart…
Everybody needs a place to rest
Everybody wants to have a home
Don't make no difference what nobody says
Ain't nobody like to be alone
He thought back the night at the carnival with Robin, about Michael telling them they had to go see Madame Andromeda, being in her trailer and the dog barking, the mark he saw her place on the other boy’s shoulder, the jacket, Camp Hero, Louis Gray, the tunnel at the Montauk Manor. He knew what they’d do to him. He had been through a lot of the same, and Lindsey told him of even worse they put her and other girls through, in their Beta and Butterfly programming. No one deserved that.
He downed his cup of coffee, pulled a twenty-dollar-bill from his pocket, dropped it on the counter, and went out the door.
Alice returned with his eggs and saw the empty cup and the twenty. She looked out the window and saw him across the street at the car lot talking to the dealer.
As he drove the 1978 blue Ford Bronco onto the island he noticed the heavy police presence at the tolls heading off the island. Getting back on was smooth sailing.
Chapter Thirteen
Wednesday, August 10, 1983
10:30 AM, Robin’s House
The chief hiked his trousers as he opened the metal gate in front of Robin’s house. He walked up the steps of the front porch and knocked on the door. She opened the door as she pulled her dressing gown closed tighter.
“Hi, Chief Lutz.”
“Good morning, Robin.”
“Any news of Michael and the other boy?”
“No, I’m sorry.”
Robin turned away and walked through the dining room toward the kitchen.
“Do you want some coffee?” she asked.
“Sure that’d be great,” he said as he waited at the dining table.
She came back with two mugs filled with coffee in one hand and a half-gallon of milk in the other. The chief grabbed a mug and poured in a splash of milk.
“How are you holding up, Robin?”
“I’d be better if you’d just come back with my boy,” she said, trying to hold back the tears and smile.
“We’re doing everything we can.”
“I know,” she said, wiping her eye with a tissue.
“It’s been five days Chief. They say if you don’t find them within 48-hours, you never will.” She broke down crying.
“Come on now, Robin. He’s out there. We will find him for you.”
“How? Where? Where is he?”
He reached out and gave her a hug. She wanted to cry in his chest the way she had Glenn’s but the chief was shorter. It just didn’t work out.
The transition he had to make would be tough. There was no easy way to do it.
“I have to ask Robin, have you seen or heard from Glenn Rogers in the past day or two?”
“No, he left town. This is fucking great. My son is missing and you want to find my ex-boyfriend. Wonderful.”
“I’m sorry, Robin. Can you tell me when you saw him last?”
“He was here the other night. I don’t even know what day it is anymore.”
“Today’s Wednesday. So the night before last? Monday night maybe?”
“Yeah, he was here and then he woke up from a dream and left. Just like that. Said people were after him and he had to leave.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, typical of the men in my life. Up and leave when the heat’s on.”
“What do you mean heat?”
“Oh, not like that. Whatever. Who wants to stick around for this mess? His piece of crap father left in the middle of the night and now this one does, too.”
“I’m sorry, Robin. You’re better without him. You don’t need that kind of guy around.”
“What kind? Is there any other? Why do you want to find him, anyway? Is it something to do with Michael?”
“No, not at all. Well, I don’t know. The feds want to talk to him about something a few years back. They’ve been looking for him.”
“Is that who he was talking about? What’s he mixed up in?”
“What did he say?”
“He said people were after him. He wouldn’t say who or why. What’s he done?”
“I don’t know. He was there at the assassination attempt of the First Lady, down in New Jersey. You remember that?”
“Yes, of course. They caught the guy, the cook of the restaurant killed him. That wasn’t him was it?”
“That was him. And he just disappeared after that until he turned up here. Been looking for him for years now.”
“Oh, my God. He was a hero. He saved the First Lady’s life that day.”
“He may have had more involvement than that in th
e whole thing.”
“What? What do you mean? That doesn’t even make sense.”
“I don’t know. I’m just the local police, they don’t share the details with me.”
Chapter Fourteen
Wednesday, August 10, 1983
9:15 PM, Lookout Diner
Glenn pulled the Bronco over across the street from the Diner and killed the lights. It was a long-shot, but they were his only in, at Camp Hero and he could use some inside info, if not some actual help.
He waited over an hour before he got lucky. A gold Ford Granada coupe pulled into the lot, and Damon and Terry got out and walked across the parking lot. Glenn pulled the handle to open his door and then waited. As they entered the diner he pulled his door shut, again. He figured he wanted to get one of them alone. Terry seemed the more grounded and useful of the two.
He watched the door of the diner from his car eager for them to come out. When they did, Damon walked alone to the left, down the street, and Terry went to his car. Glenn turned the ignition, pulled a U-turn and followed Damon as Terry left the parking lot in the other direction. Glenn pulled alongside Damon and stretched across to roll down the passenger-side window.
“Damon, hey,” he said as Damon came to a halt, startled and squinting to see who it was, calling him.
“Hey, do I know you?”
“It’s Glenn, from the diner. We met the other night.” They didn’t really but it was all he had to go with. He hoped Damon at least recognized him.
“Oh, yeah. Hi, what’s going on?”
“Get in, I’ll drive ya wherever you’re going.”
“That’s okay. I like to walk.”
“I just want to ask you a couple questions. Come on.”
“Okay,” he said as he approached the truck.
Damon got in the passenger seat and Glenn drove down the road.
“I want to ask you about Camp Hero.”
“Oh, I’m not supposed to talk about any of that. They’ve warned me about that.”
“I know. But listen, Damon, I’m afraid something bad is going on there. You know Robin, right? The waitress from the diner.”
“Is that the dark-haired one?. The one whose son went missing?”
“Yeah, but I don’t think he went anywhere. I think they took him.”
“Like kidnapped?”
“Yeah, basically. I think they took him to Camp Hero.”
“What?”
“They have a bunch of kids there don’t they? In barracks somewhere?”
“Well yeah, maybe, but… the kids there are like troubled, or in trouble. They sign up for a chance for something better.”
“Yeah, maybe but not this time,” Glenn said.
“Where’s the barracks at?” he asked.
“Underground somewhere. I haven’t been there, but I know it’s underground. Most everything connects underground.”
“You really think they’re there?”
“I do.”
“If I could help… but they’re not the nicest people and if they could kidnap an innocent kid, then I don’t want them gunning for me.”
“I don’t want you to get in any trouble. Are you there tomorrow and the next day?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you go back to the diner tomorrow night?”
“Yeah, I usually do.”
“If I don’t come see you tomorrow night, it means I ran into trouble and I may need help to get out.”
“Out of where?”
“I overheard you the other night at the diner and it sounds like you have your hand on some kind of throttle over there that could create mayhem.”
“I guess I kind of do.”
“Well, that may be what I need.”
“Huh?”
“If I don’t see you tomorrow night around here, then I’m stuck there and on Friday I need you to create a distraction. Is there something you could do that would put the whole place on alert?”
“It wouldn’t be hard. They’re playing with fire as it is and they keep pushing it. I’ve been just trying to keep mayhem at bay. I could unleash Hell there if that’s what you want.”
“The bigger the better.”
Damon smiled wide and Glenn decided he looked more like the Cheshire Cat than a gremlin. There definitely was something different, other-worldly about him.
“You really think they kidnapped those kids at the base?”
“They’re there.”
“Those evil bastards! Kidnapping kids now?”
“How old are you?” Glenn asked him.
“I’m like 19 or something like that. They didn’t kidnap me if that’s what you’re thinking. They hired me for a job. Basically. I mean I’m not on payroll or anything but they pay me. No taxes!”
“When did you start working there?”
“I met this guy back when I was living in the city. He could see I had abilities, so…”
Glenn waited for him to finish his sentence, but after the pause, Damon asked a question.
“Have you ever wondered how much of the world is just in your head?”
“Ha. All the time.” Glenn answered.
“Do you think monsters from your head could manifest in the real world?”
“Kind of chicken or the egg question. I know they can get from the real world into your head. I don’t know about the other way.”
“Can I give you some advice, Damon?”
“Sure, can’t guarantee I’ll follow it though.” He said with his wide, happy grin.
“Get away from here. Away from the people at the camp. Do yourself a favor.”
“I know. I will blow this scene soon.”
He left unsure whether he just had a deep conversation or if Damon was just out there. He tried to decide if he was onto something reaching out to him or if he was chasing rabbits. Either way, he didn’t see the harm it could do and it was reassuring to know he had a friend inside.
Chapter Fifteen
Thursday, August 13, 1983
5:45 AM, Montauk Manor
Glenn pulled into the lot and killed the headlights. He took a spot in the back between a dumpster and storage trailer for the construction company working on renovations. He fixed his Colt Commander in his waist and grabbed the backpack from the backseat. He got to the tunnel entrance and pulled the Mag lite from his bag. The initial sections were dark squared off hallways. The darkness and tight space was making him sweat. His mind played tricks with him as the flashlight beam cast shadows moving about. He killed the light for a few turns until he flashed back to moving through the jungle in Vietnam at night. He heard voices and screams before he switched it back on and saw a wall ahead with a metal door.
It let out a screech as he pulled it open. The light flooded the tunnel. He entered a larger expanse. A lit tunnel large enough for a vehicle, with wiring running down the sides. Overhead hung a light every twenty-yards. Every second or third one burned out. He saw something run along the edge of the wall from the corner of his eye. He assumed rats.
Glenn had some time to think about how he got there, in an abandoned tunnel headed straight into a secret, protected underground facility, run by the same psychopath as the Monarch Program that spent years torturing him. He thought about his repressed memories that came back when he became acquainted with Lindsey four years back. He thought about being with her and the crazy week they shared before the assassination attempt, in 1979. Still missing her he had his doubts how much of that week was real. He had dreamt about her for years before that and when they met in-person he immediately knew it was her. But after learning she was his handler for years before that, training him, programming him, maybe even touring him herself, he sometime wondered if it was all setup. If she was playing him the whole time. Maybe she was still alive somewhere. Still in the program. Maybe Louis Gray was behind it and he had her plant the seed to kill Robert Black. He may never really know. Everything she did and said to him that week felt genuine and he had to hold on to the belie
f it was. She was a victim of the program too and killed by Robert and Louis Gray, and if he got a chance he’d cut his time on the earth short, as he did Robert’s. But his priority had to be to get Michael. He had to for Robin.
He saw what looked like the end, an opening, light. As he got there, he walked into an open area resembling a subway station without the exits. There were three other adjoining tunnels, or more accurately two tunnels that seemed to run side-by-side that both opened into this one-hundred by one-hundred square foot area. He stuck with his tunnel, the farthest to the right as he re-entered the darkness.
There were a few smaller offshoots, but he stuck with the main branch until it opened into a larger semi-circle area with three sets of steps leading to a concrete balcony wrapping around the back wall with three doors at different points. He took the one to the right.
He entered a narrower hall like those where he started by the manor with two locked doors along the wall and a stairwell through the door at the end. He climbed to the top of the stairs and pushed open the Bilco metal door overhead. He entered a small ten-by-ten concrete walled room with no windows and a single metal door. He turned the handle and tried to open it slowly but it stuck and he gave a pull jerking it open and making a screech. He pushed it back, so it was open just a crack. Guys walked up and down the path in front of him. The noise he made with the door made one turn his head. He didn’t look long and Glenn was sure he was cool.
He watched, trying to get his bearing and orient himself to where he was but he needed to get out of the building and look in the other direction. He heard some commotion coming from beyond his view to the left. He saw two guys rushing in stride in his direction and the skin crawled on the back of his neck. They made a turn off the path toward his location and Glenn eased the door closed, locked it and went back through the Bilco doors.
He went back down to the open area underground. He ran across the balcony to the center double-doors. He was surprised it continued on that level and didn’t lead to stairs. It was nearly as wide as the main tunnel he walked to get there but better-lit. The walls met the ceiling at ninety-degree angles and everything was lined with institutional white tile, from floor-to-ceiling. The tunnel continued in a dead straight trajectory farther than Glenn would have liked. He picked up his pace to a jog when he heard the doors crash open behind him.
Montauk Mayhem Page 4