Steve realized he looked out of place without a suit on. Maybe it was time for a disguise. Nothing drastic, maybe moustache and glasses with a suit might fit the bill. He passed by the front of the building looking neither left or right. He flagged down a taxi and told the guy to take him to a JC Penny store.
He got lucky after the department store he found in the same mall a costume store. He found what he was looking for giving the sales lady a song and dance story of a late costume party. With his new suit and accessories he went back to the hotel.
Before venturing back to the high rise, he decided to try out his new look in a restaurant that catered to ‘suits’.
Steve was quietly pleased as he left the restaurant feeling full and satisfied he passed the test. With his new attaché case in hand, empty except for a legal pad and a few pens, he walked with purpose to the high rise.
The chauffer was still there with the trunk up polishing his boss’s golf clubs. It was time to case the place and see what was what. The first obstacle was a check in counter and a metal detector. He’d left his weapon back at the hotel wrapped in oil skin hidden in the water tank of the toilet. He scanned the tenant board and found that his target occupied the top two floors.
This place could not be a kill zone so he decided to wait and see where he lived. Steve was smart enough to know that his residence would be full of security, but an opportunity always existed somewhere at sometime. He had a lot of time and money.
Back in the lobby of his hotel, he found out that a tour bus made the rounds of high profile people and their residences. His target was among those listed for viewing. Inside his grip he wrote down the phone number and address, used the pay phone and made reservation for the next day.
Steve noted the address of his target and after a three hour boring bus ride, he took a taxi back near the address to look around. This was a neighborhood without a lot of foot traffic but he really needed a lay of the land.
The “Rivers Haven” as it was dully noted on the cast Iron Gate was full of security cameras. Dogs were his main concern, not cameras. Like a tourist, he used his disposal camera to take pictures. He moved closer to see if any dogs would visit him. A voice warned him to try not to enter as the grounds were patrolled by guard dogs. Steve backed off not wanting to draw any attention to him.
Back at the hotel, he was in a dilemma as to what to do. It didn’t appear he could get close to this guy. He decided to send an e-mail and ask for advice. An hour later he was told that he could pick up a package at the Greyhound bus terminal the next day. Steve was traveling on a bogus ID and the package would have that name on it.
It was now Wednesday the day before Turkey Day. Steve picked up his package and went directly back to his hotel. Inside he found a M24 Sniper Weapon used by the army. He felt like he was back in Iraq when he held the sweet smelling rife. He carefully and gingerly put it together then wondered if it was sighted in. A note typed on a word processor said, “This rifle has been sighted in.”
Now all he needed was a location to take the shot from and an exit to depart from. That night Steve slept with his new friend and companion, M24.
Chapter V
Moss and Miles were enjoying an Italian dinner. This was Moss and his wife’s favorite restaurant. Even though he felt some pangs of loss, he fought the emotion and enjoyed the dinner with his friend. Miles, between courses, said, “If the rumors are true, then this consortium of activists is extremely high profile. It’s difficult for me to pursue this story as facts are hard to come by. Unless you have some ideas Moss, I’m going to let this one go.”
“I’ve not a lot of sympathy for the victims who were accused of being pedophiles, but the law is the law and we have to uphold what was laid down to us. The FBI is a government agency that is sworn to uphold our laws. It’s up to them to catch this bad guy and various other participants. Me, I’m going to follow Stu and retire.”
“What will you do Moss?”
“I’m going to go to the southwest and bask in the dry desert weather. I’ve a distant relative who is a rock hound and it’s about time I found something else to sink my teeth into. I’m going to sell the house, buy a medium sized motor home, load the damn cat into it and drive off seeking the sunset.”
“You never fail to surprise me Moss. I suppose it’s about time we both hung it up. What would say if I followed you in about a year’s time? Meanwhile, we can communicate via the internet.”
With a big mouthful of garlic bread, Moss mumbled that it was fine with him and he would be happy to spend time together. He reminded Miles he was his only real friend. Miles turned a little red in the cheek took a gulp of red wine and gave Moss a smile of acknowledgement.
***
Steve took Thursday off and found a restaurant that served turkey. He felt a little sad as this was supposed to be a time with family. He momentarily wondered where his wife and two kids were. His dinner arrived and all thoughts were lost as he wolfed down the hot turkey sand with mashed potatoes.
Friday Steve was positioned across the street from the good Reverend Hugh Rivers high rise building. Over his suit and tie, he had on coveralls acting like a worker carrying a tool box to an empty office four floors above ground.
Steve was perfectly calm and relaxed. He would take the shot, leave the rifle and coveralls, and slowly descend the stairs with his attaché case in hand. By the time he got to the sidewalk, he rightfully figured many people would be staring across the street and he would be one of the curious. Afterwards he would move on walking down the street to his hotel. He guessed he had about two hours before they locked down the city and all exits out of it. By then he would be on Amtrak headed west.
Evangelist Hugh Rivers exited his limo and stood waving to the onlookers with a capped smile displaying perfect teeth. The day was cloudy and cool. He wore a camel colored overcoat and no hat revealing a full head of hair. Not his own hair, but a transplant crop to make him appear younger than his fifty plus years. Steve took aim and placed a bullet in Hugh River’s heart. A pop was heard, but no one really put two and two together until his chauffeur looked down at his boss crumpled on the parking lot. At first he thought his boss had a heart attack, but then he saw the hole in the coat. He screamed Hugh had been shot and to call an ambulance.
Steve, by this time, had exited the office and was walking down the stairs like an ordinary business man. Outside a crowd was gathering and ten minutes later he was not far from his hotel.
By ten am he was aboard the west bound Amtrak on a coast to coast run. At noon he sat in the dinning car drinking coffee and connected to the wifi with his laptop. After lunch an e-mail came in congratulating him on a good job. He was ordered to debark in Phoenix and wait for further instructions.
***
By that same Friday after Thanksgiving, Moss had left his house in the hands of real-estate people, found a motor home, hooked up his Range Rover to the back, and hit the road to Arizona with his cat. His son was coming up to clean out the house of mementoes so he left feeling both secure and lonesome.
He left his e-mail with the Special Agent Tim, but really didn’t think he would hear from him. Little did Moss realize how wrong he was.
The winter weather was threatening as he rolled west bound on I-80. A light rain was falling and once again it was mixed with ice. Moss was relaxed and felt good about changing his life at this point in time. The stress he left behind was gone and good radiance. One thing that nagged at him was leaving his wife and not being able to visit her grave. However, he smiled; on the dashboard he’d taped a picture of her with the worthless cat in her arms.
His stomach growled and a truck stop loomed just ahead. He pulled off giving himself a lot of room to slow down. He found an easy place to park and told the cat he’d be back in a little while.
Moss bought a paper and found a booth out of the way of the main traffic of truckers coming and going. While waiting for the waitress to come by, he read the startl
ing headlines of the assassination of the evangelist Hugh Rivers. Moss scratched his head wondering if this was part of the same group that did the four homicides in his city. This victim, however, had been shot and not stabbed. He needed to think about it, and then as the waitress appeared, he wondered why he should even think about it at all.
Moss ate a light lunch as sitting all day didn’t include a lot of exercise. Most of the truckers, he saw, had more than a few extra pounds pushing their shirts out front. He finished up lunch and filled up his thermos with coffee. Entering the motor home the cat was up and crying for either something to eat or needed to make a deposit of some sort. He’d bought a special litter box and brought his old cat bowl. Moss filled up the cat bowl and sat down in his driver’s seat.
Like a good truck driver, he checked his mirrors and gently pulled out onto the freeway accelerating rather hard to merge with the traffic. He couldn’t quit thinking about the assassination in North Carolina. Did it tie in with the others somehow? It seems strange that this homicide happened not long after the bishop was killed, he thought. Moss decided to give Stu a call and see what he thought. Where Stu would be about now, he wondered. He’d left a couple days before Moss did so he would probably be in Florida by now.
It rained all the way to Des Moines, Iowa. Moss was dead tired and a handy truck stop served a great need for him to rest. He went out like a light and it was just breaking daylight when he woke to a clear and sky blue day.
What Moss found out that most truck stops had showers. After a fill up and a few bucks, which produced unlimited hot water, he felt much better. The motor home bathroom was for midgets and not for husky guys like him. This would be a good test of what he liked and disliked about motor homes. He had a friend in Okie City and had agreed to spend a day with him.
Moss emptied the solid part of the litter box, filled up the cat dish and hit the road southbound on I-35. Comfortably cruising, he reflected on his call to his former partner Stu. Stu was happy to hear from him and before Moss could get a word in edge wise, Stu told him Florida was not for them. In fact they had bought a motor home and were headed west. He suggested if it worked out, they would meet up in Phoenix for a get together.
Finally at the end of the conversation Stu thought the assassination on Rivers was part of the overall plan to rid the world of scum bags like him. It was widely rumored that Rivers was gay and preferred the younger generation. Even though he had a wife, which was just a front. Stu had told him the world was a better place without the evangelist and that he would lose no sleep over the loss.
By noon Moss was famished. He saw a Denny’s sign and as luck would have a newbie motor home driver, he found a parking strip that would accommodate his outfit. Moss did a once over to check the hitch and all the tires. Then he shaded his eyes from the sun, shivered a little from the cold air that had settled over the mid west and went in for lunch. At the newsstand he found a New York Times and after plugging the money in withdrew the news bible of the USA.
On the inside he saw an interview with the special agent from the FBI with whom he had briefly met back home. The agent speculated that this was the work of the same serial killer and that more man power than ever was working on the case. Of course the interviewer asked the ridiculous question about where the killer would strike next.
Moss looked up as his lunch arrived and wolfed it down like there was not much time left in the day for him to eat. He sat back and wondered where the killer would strike next and how much higher would he go with high profile victims? Or would he fool them all and go back to the ordinary preacher who was a known pedophile. Like everything, as he slid out of the booth to pay his tab, time would tell.
Once again as Moss entered the motor home, the cat was yowling his head off. Patience he told himself. Maybe his friend in Oklahoma would take the miserable fur bag off his hands.
***
Steve slept like a log for twelve hours. It was dark when he woke up, but he was hungry. The dinning car was closed, but he had a plastic wrapped sandwich and cold milk in the snack bar.
He’d brought his lap top with him and checked his e-mail only to find nothing there. Well, time for a break he thought. Later taking a rest he thought about an old friend from Arizona. Maybe would hang around for a few days with him. Now all he had to do was locate him.
At six pm Saturday evening, Steve sat in the dinning car waiting for his dinner. The conductor had announced that they were now in Oklahoma and would stop soon at Oklahoma City station. The train was slowly moving through the city passing many intersections. Coincidentally, Moss was sitting at a railroad crossing having gotten lost trying to find his friends place of business. Steve for a brief moment saw a motor home towing a Range Rover and both Moss and Steve held eye contact for a fraction of a second.
***
In Boston that same Saturday in early December, at a very exclusive private club, three men sat in comfortable arm chairs in front of a gas fire in the library. All three had been members since their birth and had inherited the exclusive membership via their family positions. To say they were part of the founding fathers would be correct. To say they were staunch Catholics would also be true. More importantly, they all were very disappointed that so many clergy were pedophiles. All three were so disappointed they decided to do something about it.
The eldest one said, just loud enough that both the other two could hear him, “We seem to be doing fairly well my friends; how do you feel about continuing our little game of retribution?”
The youngest at seventy two responded saying, “I say full steam ahead and damn the torpedoes.”
The middle of the two said, “I say we lay low and let the world respond to our past deeds. However, that’s the easy way out. There’s no way they can trace us so as a convention of religious leaders are meeting in Phoenix, let’s give them a welcome they won’t forget.”
***
Miles Milner sat glued to his chair surfing the internet for religious groups who might be holding a convention somewhere. Next to him his research boy, Andy Corbin, slid his chair over and handed his boss a print out of a Cardinal convention scheduled for the week after Christmas in Phoenix, Arizona.
Miles eyes opened wide open revealing how really blood shot his eyes were. He said, “Good work Andy. I think you’re on to something here. Let’s keep doing our research, but find out where, when, how many and all the other answers we need to present our case to the editor.”
Andy’s face turned red with the compliment and went back to his favorite toy. He loved his job and was thrilled to have discovered something that his boss liked. By the end of the day he had all the answers that involved the religious convention in Arizona.
Miles sent an e-mail to Moss outlining what he had discovered. He didn’t fail to mention that his boy Andy had found the event.
***
Moss finally found his friend’s place of business in a strip mall that afforded him a place to park.
His friend, Stanley Oliver, was a private investigator, but formally a homicide detective from Cleveland that had, unfortunately, taken a bribe from a drug lord. His daughter had an incurable disease that took a lot of money to keep her alive. Stanley was desperate and got caught. To save face, he retired quietly and moved to Oklahoma. Moss had met him at police convention and they struck up a friendship. The friendship survived the next fifteen years, but the daughter passed on many years ago.
Stanley held out his meaty hand to Moss and smiled revealing a pleasant appearance. Moss said, “Well Stanley, you seem to have weathered the age storm.”
“Nice to see you all in one piece Moss. We’ve a lot to catch up on and lock up your motor home you’re coming home with me.”
“Well Stanley, I’ve got a damn cat in there. It was my wife’s cat and I can’t seem to find a good home for it. Let me make sure it has water and food before we leave.”
“Bring it with you Moss. We have, god knows, how many cats running around ou
r place. We have a small ranch just outside of town with a barn for animals. My wife has two horses and loves animals. I’ll meet you with my car at your motor home.”
A half hour later they pulled into a well taken care of small Ranchette subdivision, as the sign said. “This looks like a nice place to live Stanley. I presume you are happy here?”
“Very much so Moss. After Cleveland, we found a second chance in life. I’m just sorry it took my daughters life to make the change,” he answered with a choked voice of emotion.
They pulled up next to the barn and as Moss were holding the fur ball, Stanley’s wife walked out of the barn to say hello. Actually this was his first time to meet Stanley’s wife. She was rather tall and strikingly handsome in her tight Lee jeans and cowboy boots.
Moss was having a hard time holding onto the damn cat when Gail relieved him of his burden. The cat relaxed knowing full well he was in good hands and probably thought he had found a new friend. Moss said a silent prayer that he’d finally got rid of the cat.
It was still a bit chilly out so they ate inside while Stanley barbequed some wonderful steaks that he’d received as part payment for a case he worked on. After dinner, his wife and daughter went back to the barn to brush and feed the horses and other animals.
Stanley and Moss went to the family room and he poured Moss an after dinner drink of brandy. Moss stayed quiet as he felt that Stanley had something important to say.
It wasn’t long before Stanley said, “Moss I know you said you had retired and were thinking about relocating to Arizona. I’d like you to listen to a proposal I have for you. First let me tell you I’m a full partner and have three other partners in our business. That makes four total. We have offices here and in Texas, Arizona and one in California. We’d like to open another one in Phoenix. Most of our work is with corporations digging up information, but we hire research guys for those jobs. Our forte is missing persons. Mostly we find the kids of run a way rich people and bring them back. A rare occasion is when spouse goes missing and then it can get a bit messy, but never really dangerous. Does this sound of any interest to you Moss?”
Church Blood Page 3