September soccer in a city park.
{Finale}
Bo Jon Little-horse worked fast before David got away. He and three Feds had discover him under the alias of Sam Nauts, he lived in Virginia Beach. The four arrived in Virginia four days after the discovery of his tell-tale diversion. Imminently they’d thought he’d be in their hands. He’d set-up an elaborate false background and now they knew where he was. Bo Jon arrived at the address as two Virginia Beach police-officers and two Fed vehicles show-up at the residence. They knocked on the door of a beach shack. The man that answer was a short burley beach-bum. They knew he’d escaped again. They questioned him and he had said he’d given his permission to use his-name by a fellow Navy-man who seemed down-on-his-luck. 'He was lonely... We talked about ships, and the Navy. He seemed a congenial-guy. He stayed around for a-week...' The officers and Bo left without an idea where David was. David had covered his tracks. He was a superior-adversary and a lucky one. They had put an A.P.B. out for the truck registered under: ‘Sam Nauts’. Now they had the whole eastern coast. It would take several day to pick-up the whereabouts of the vehicle. Bo kept his wits about him. He suspected David went North. For one thing a Navymen wanted to be near those of his kind. And across the Northeast was were ships were docked.
As ’art’, redemptive of his service-days. It was more foot-work for Bo. He went to some of the more frequented hotels and city spots. First Maryland, Massachusetts and heading to the North. By time he ended his search David would be seen. He kept his receiver ’‘on’ while he hit the spots... Then he hit ‘pay-dirt‘, again. A man going-by the name of Sam Nauts booked a room about three weeks earlier in Maryland. He stayed for seven-days... Bo was going to ’‘outsmart’ David. He was heading East and considering, the time-frame he’d be in the New England states by the beginning of the week. Bo wanted to be there waiting. He drove the interstate till reaching New York state they headed to New York harbor. Where he drove around the area looking-for his track. He found nothing then, he went to nearby hotels. Then he heard it over the over the official radio; spotted in the area by city-patrol. He had taken-off; to where, was unknown. Bo was going to try to cut him off at the pass. Traffic was to congested by time he reached the vicinity he was long-gone. Four patrol-cars were looking for it as well. Considering the sighting he realized he was sighted; he was no simple criminal he outwitted the F.B.I. He’d probably, leave the area before road-blocks went-up.
David probably, realized they were closing-in. Bo figured he’d get erratic now that they were closing in... He was a serious criminal a year-long escape. Bo Jon doubted he’d have a place to turn. Probably wanting to make a ’‘last-stand’. He was under no-illusion, he was not going to be caught. The entire area, would be alerted. David had just arrive in New York. He was headed for a hotel when a police-cruiser spotted him he was on his way out of New York on his way North. He knew his truck was spotted. If he wanted to get away this time; he had to do something drastic. He thought, and then he remember the solution of the mountains of Georgia and Virginia the Adirondacks were the closes. Then, drive down to the Vermont coast. It took him an hour to reach the peninsula. The lone-roads had seen trucks mostly, he took the back-roads. No one knew where he was. He came to a country store and bought food and gas. By that afternoon, he had a change of clothes and stayed that night at a Vermont Bed and Breakfast. He’d be in Vermont by early that afternoon. He wanted to reach the shoreline. He had a feeling the tall-Indian seen with his brother would find him. A man of great-sleuthing potential. He thought of all the time he had evading the law and etching-out a whole new-life. If he was captured he’d get to see his-brother, again.
He’d lived his life sporadically and by inches. He wanted to absolve himself of the past and in a way he had. The times he spent in subjugation were valuable, moments in once restricted-existence. He knew things would ‘never’ be the same; and in a way he knew that would be best. Perhaps the superior skills had been a ‘bogus’ way of accepting the inevitable. David was 22 years-old in his last years in R.O.T.C.-N.G. He had bushy red-hair, hadn’t grown a heard yet. He was in the college for two years. Just having taken his class-picture... He was in good health didn’t smoke or drink and was on the honor-role. He had buddies but with the end of college, everyone was going their own way. Though he had many chances he had no girlfriends. He trained as a Navy-man and six-weeks ago did his last maneuvers. It was a time of innocence. President Kennedy died eight-years earlier and Nixon was getting to have flack about Vietnam. There were plenty of officers, wanting to fight. Although the media was beginning to report on the ‘hippy’-movement and disillusions with the war. Men in the O.C. were earning the resolve to fight for their-country. David was no exception. Many of his friends worried their sweethearts were left on the next ship-out. It was a wonderful time... He was going to get commissioned in 60-days and shipped-out.
His mom and dad showed-up for his graduation ceremony. He wanted to see his brother who was still young. His father congratulated him. The two were now on equal-terms. ...'Make me proud, son...' He gave him a soldier’s memento he’d kept since Korea. He had to be at Shreveport for training and post. He chose munitions because it packed a ‘wallop’ against the enemy. He was to be an expert. He and his unit would handle excesses for defending ground-forces. He saluted his superiors on campus who were in his program. Many of his fellows knew the hardship they were going-into. Vietnam was 4,000 miles away. And most thought they’d annihilate the enemy and be home within the year. Vietnam conflict had ease the United States into some of the fiercest fighting... Though known as the ‘greater’ fire-power, guerrilla fighting was like no war before. The warping of morale began in the disturbing-realities, offensives and bizarre tactics the Vietcong fought with tenacity, without conscience and demoralizing offense. The average soldier had to defend his unit and fight without remorse. Many returned home, not the same. This emerging-demeaning, change men’s life.
What was evident to so many G.I.s, Sailors and Marines was that this war was like no other... Men lost their lives over a Communist regime in their country in Southeast Asia far from home not necessarily in the interest of the U.S. Before David and his command, the war was already going badly. Before he left, a friend gave him a figure of ‘Fiera’ the Goddess of Fire. He didn’t think much of it, yet as time went on he would belief in her power. It was a dimension of selfhood each man dealing with it in his own way. Yet in seven-years when the war was over each would come home wanting to forget... Bo Jon was ‘hot’ on David’s trail. He recognized that he was not armed... In fact he’d been cogent; working, living and thriving carrying-on life as normal. Yet he had exercised a degree of deception and falsehood. Nothing ominous. He was quite smart, at out-thinking the Feds and law-enforcement to stay-free. Bo’s objective was to finally bring in this culprit and help establish a doable-case... In the silence of David’s disappearance he worked almost, one-sidedly. And in this he knew the arrest of David and his inevitable arraignment would mean the best Bo Jon had to offer. Far less terribly for Garr he had a famed-court detective on the case. Bo Jon had began his opus that day; a multi-murder report appeared in the Nevada Star...
The case-had defined itself. From his arrival in September to Seattle, the case had strange ‘twists’. An imitable governmental-attaché was missing-on a range fly-into the Washington mountains up where then the snows had been falling by then. Local, state and federal-investigators went in to discover what had-happened during a firefight-of the elite Oregon based jump-squadron. They’d went without communiqué for 24-hours and a chopper spotted five deceased Squad-men... After closer-inspection it was determined to be a murder-scene, and quarantined. The bodies were charred by the forest-fire. Drop-squads, rangers and eventual Washington-Sheriffs had taken-on expeditionary-crew into the zone to-recover evidence, remains and clues for the case proved to be a multiple-murder. The e
vidence was collected under the auspice of the State-commissioner and the Feds took the case over when the suggested assailant was supervisor-David Calvin Garr... As the case was in its third-level complicity. The papers had wind-of the case by the first spotting of remains and it was complete with counsels’ decision one; the death and ‘score’-decided a warrant-by the Federal-courts taken over and compiled-by Feds. David just came-across an immense-sense of good-luck, of which would be that Bo Jon was in-pursuit and he had his good-thinking, from without...
Yet one day he’d be brought-to justice. Secured-though it seemed the F.B.I. wanted him for federal court maintained to in multi-killing multi-state agency violation and ultimate-close... He-injured some of the best men in-processing of the case, as he-was one of their-own. Bo Jon had filtered this and stayed with the progress of the case. His 36-days at Secato S was not wasted, he-compiled both court requiem and criminal-evidence... Typically, court transaction took at least seven-weeks and with his eyes watching progression he worked with interested-parties to see that David at least un-knowledgeable, yet of benefit... And getting-together framework, was as many as manifold. So the inevitable capture was based on the transfix of legal avenues. Bo Jon gave character to the case. And he owe a lot to... By the last-week he had many things in order. The inordinate corralling-tariff of crime, evidence and courts-were guided-by Bo Jon’s experience and integrity. The technical-side and the theoretic came under Bo Jon Little-horse P.I.’s placard. Bo Jon although, he now, in hot-pursuit backed-up, his-case. He-took the highway to the said road-block North of the city. All the while hoping to spot David. He was a ‘superior’-adversary and capture would be soon. He wanted to take him into custody.
If not, he wanted to be there for questioning. His bond would be several million dollars and he probably be shipped to a federal-prison. Then his brother would finally, speak with a man who’d do 15-20 years and 7 years probation with good-behavior... If David would fed the full extant of what he did having David know it was a superlative belief. He’d never be the same. Giving up 10 to 20 years before ever seeing the outside yet he would probably live to see it. The permute of what happened, was in fact a dubious-ties to hard times. He had to face it with help from a therapist and prison enlisting. Bo Jon wanted all this on his inquest... Yet some of what he put before the courts would not be allowed. Bo Jon had done all he could to consider David’s crime soon that would run its course. His recognition-resolution was as far as it would go. David had slowed his pace on the road. He’d taken a back-road into the eastern mountain-trail, it was quiet and serene. He went for miles not seeing anyone. Just wide open forest-line roads. He’d escaped capture once again. He knew after a year of on the furlough from the law was as intense as it got. He remembered the hard-time during the Vietnam war that getting away was just away of putting-off: ‘danger’. He had rarely thought about the dead he’d killed. How in the split-seconds of decision he acted to kill as he’d done in the war, it was a surreal-experience.
The drastic of war erupting in the ‘war’ against the flames sent him into the battling the enemy. He had to maintain the offensive... The God-of-Fire had to be ‘fed’. He sacrificed them as the flames demanded ‘sacrifice’. His identity, his duty and his will was to survived by any means-by the will and power of the growing-flames...
****
He had brought his-weapon in some sort of direness of reason. Sanctifying higher-efforts and satisfying the great-intensity of it majestic horrific-defiance. He didn’t understand why he did it. He remembered meeting natives of Southeast Asia how they worshipped deity with every aspect of their life. And if anything happened it was through its will... It was beyond superstition. His many demeaned experience has meted and fused-destruction and defiance to debase his fear. He’d been a grunt-leader and have to fight and survive he was carrying out his-duty defiantly. Yet the diminutive de-faction required a driven, dependability. An implication, obligation and abjuring. Confined in the debilitation of cause and he-did what he-was order. He’d earned his competency yet now he knew at what cost. He-impaled those who relied onto the sacrifice of duty. Beyond, rightfulness and reason. In a sense it was an aspect-of-war. He felt the loss yet knew was not always honorable and every man had to face his-own demons. And his, was to face murder charges. But not just, yet. He was like any other men who fought and survived, as best he-knew how; and now that meant a long period-of-imprisonment. He thought long and hard-on this. It was survival and he wanted that.
Imperil, despair and dishonor were a part of living as a soldier. But how he no longer wanted to serve the indolent pride of being a ‘warrior‘. He was no better than those who were his-enemy. Deserving, duty and determination were fallacies of military-figment. He was, as betrayed by the ‘code of honor’ as the many soldiers who fought and died in the same of duty... He accepted it now, as he had accept the role of former Lt. Commander, U.S.G. AAnd U.S.F.S. Elite head-supervisor/attaché. As he’d realized, how it made legitimacy, he-accepted ultimate-conclusion... Final-reflection and now, in ‘ritual-resister’ he fell into disrepute, destined to be a reverting of recourse. He’d be seen as a criminal no better ‘than’ the enemy. He traveled-up into the Allegheny-range for several-days. His truck had been spotted. He headed backdown the run up-into New Hampshire then out to his last-stand; Reston, Vermont. The weather had turned rainy. The skies grew dark as he drove-down into the peninsula with its seaport. He could smell the ocean. The ocean was rough as he drove onto Glenville, New Hampshire seaboard. He smelled fish, and saw some fisherman coming-in; there was a trial-of smoke that trailed-from a little-hamlet. About 8-miles away. ...In Reston, Vermont he went there and ate. After which the sun-shone bright. He decided to walk to a soccer-park and sit, and watch the children at-play.
The red and blue flashes were coming-down the lane. Bo Jon pulled-up to the seated-man. He got out of his Hot-pink Cadillac. And he spoke, 'Mr. David Calvin Garr'. 'Sir, you’re under-arrest for murder...” The crime-unit of fingering-officer, and Feds pulled-up and four-police squad-cars; officers got out, pistols-ready. They put-cuffs on him and as he said-nothing. The long-hard run, was-over...
~Finis
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Sequoia Trail-A Bo Jon Littlehorse P.I. Novel. Second Edition Page 34