The Green Ripper

by John D. MacDonald

  I covered her to the chin and went out into the blowing mist. There had been ten of them, and two more in the incoming aircraft, and now there were none. I was glad the wind had started again. It was far better than the silence. I shed the belt. I had lost the pack under the motor home. I slung the Uzi over my shoulder. It was comfortable to carry. I went looking for the airplane.

  It had gone much farther down the slope than I had supposed. The engine and pieces of the cowling were jammed into a rocky bank. The tail section was up in a tree. The fuselage was in two large parts and dozens of ragged pieces. Seats and bits of plastic and wiring were scattered over a broad area There was a stink of fuel.

  One of them had apparently gone into the rocky bank, as had the engine. He lay bent in wrong directions, missing an arm, and it was impossible to discover what he had looked like. There was a faded tattoo of a blue-and-red eagle on his right wrist, almost obscured by curly blond hair. The eagle held a little scroll in its claws. It said "Charlene."

  Another was on his face, and he was draped over a boulder, spread-eagled, hip pockets high. He looked almost normal until I noticed how totally flat his chest was. From back to front he seemed to be about four inches thick. He had huge pale hands. I wanted to see his face, but I didn't care to roll him off his boulder. I sat on my heels, put a hand under his cold chin, and lifted. He had no visible eyelashes or eyebrows. His fine blond hair was cropped short. One small gray eye was open, the other almost dosed. A conspiratorial wink. A little mouth, a delicate little nose, and a face pitted and scarred by the acne of his youth.

  "And how are you, Brother Titus?" I asked him.

  Middling, he seemed to say. Just middling.

  "Help!" I dropped Brother Titus's head and scrambled back, tripped, and sat down. "Help met"

  I moved over to the larger part of the wrecked fuselage. Brother Persival lay on his back, on what had been the side wall and windows. The gas stink was stronger.

  I made certain his hands were empty before I knelt. He frowned up at me. 'McGraw? McGraw, don't touch me. I think my spine is smashed. I can't move my arms and legs."

  The Green Ripper

  "Makes quite a problem."

  "Get some of the others and rig a litter. If you roll me carefully, you can slide me out of here."

  "There aren't any others."

  He closed his eyes, then opened them again. "Brother Haris has had some medical training."

  "There aren't any others."

  "They... they ran?" Incredulity.

  "They're dead."

  After long thoughtful moments he moistened his lips and said, "Then you're a bird dog. You brought a team in."

  'Jo. Em alone."

  'Y don't understand. You killed them all? How, for God's sake? All those brave young people. Some of our very best. So many thousands of hours and dollars in training them."

  'Y had a lot of luck. And of course I had some practical experience in their line of work. And motivation. Let's not forget motivation, Brother."

  "Who are you?"

  "I'm Brother Thomas, the commercial fisherman."

  'what had become evident. It was checked out. I got word about that yesterday. Who are you?"

  "Just your average idle Florida beach bum. Name of McGee. Travis McGee. Salvage consultant." I grinned idiotically at him and stuck my hand out. But of course he couldn't take it. He had closed his eyes. I waited a long time before I touched him on the cheek. "Brother Persival?"

  He looked at me. Impatience. "Yes, yes. What is it?"

  "Your group killed my woman, in Florida. They went out of their way to give her a death that looked like illness."

  "Why would we do that?"

  "She had been here a long time ago, looking for her husband's kid sister, and she had seen Titus. Then she saw him again in Fort Lauderdale, negotiating to buy land for some Belgians, and recognized him. They shot a little sphere into the back of her neck and she died."

  The look of puzzlement faded. His eyes closed again as he talked. "I don't know about it, of course. But I can see why it could have happened. There are strict rules about security. The friends who are helping us are ruthless about eliminating any link between the religious mission and the political mission. It is perfect cover. I knew we had access to that... particular method, but I didn't know it had been used. It was supposed to be undetectable. Odd. Odd. They help the same sort of groups... everywhere." He opened his eyes and said, "You came here because of her? Just because of her?"

  "Just because of her."

  "Strange. To undo so very much. So easily."

  The next time I touched him, he didn't respond.

  The Green Ripper

  His sleep looked comfortable enough, in the circumstances.

  "Just because of her," I told him again. But he was beyond all movement, all reply, all under- standing.

  15 - I worked hard all the rest of that first day of the New Year. I found a bale of coarse blankets in the warehouse. I found some nylon rope and a sharp knife.

  The idea, after I went down and made sure the gate was closed and locked, was to recover the farthest bodies first. Chuck and Barry. I took the van down to where I had left the road. It took me longer to find them than I had expected. All the snow was long gone. Spread the blanket. Roll body onto blanket. Tie twice around. Grab corner of blanket near the head and drag back to van. Lift in. Go get the other one. Lift in. Drive up sloppy road to ware- house. Unlock, lift bodies out, drag them inside one

  The Green Ripper at a time. Drag them to place beyond narrow aisle where it widened out again. Side by side near far wall. Neat.

  Next, Brother Titus, Brother Persival,and the faceless nameless one-armed third man. Very difflcult pulling them up the steep slope. Three in a row. Went and got van. Two into the back, one into the side door. Unlock warehouse, unload, drag them through, one at a time. Five in a row. Neat. But no arml Went back and looked. Looked everywhere. Finally realized that for some time as I was searching, I had been making a small strange whimpering sound. I put my hand over my mouth and stopped it.

  Two out there in the flat. Ahman and Haris. Dragged them one at a time all the way. Easier than lifting, loading, unloading. Seven in a row. But one arm missing. Not as neat as I wanted it to be.

  Nena next. Not neat at all. Could not stand the thought of poking about, looking for missing bits. Then Stella. Nine. Easy to drag. Alvor was difficult and bulky to drag. Messy getting Sammy onto the blanket, but okay after that. Eleven of them. Why not twelve? I stood there and counted them, pointing at each one, saying the name. Eleven!

  I had missed somebody. Somebody was out there. I counted them over and over, and I was beginning to make that noise again. And then I remembered the twelfth. Nicky. Executed by me. Buried by his comrades.

  Not much of the fading daylight came in. I sat on a crate purporting to contain electronic equipment. Eleven silent ones. I felt a strange affection for them. They were so docile. This was my own tiny little Jonestown. We had shared together the final climactic emotional experience. Did dark shadows move within the fading electrical charges of the emptied minds? Did the final instant record on continuous replay, over and over, each playing dimmer?

  I got up and felt my way out and locked them in, safe for the night. They'd had a very bad day, but they were safe for the night. Luck had run against them. John Wayne had deserted them.

  I found two big flashlights, camp lanterns. I did not want to fool with the generator. I didn't want to listen to it. I went down to the creek with soap and towels, aimed the lanterns, and bathed and scrubbed in the black slide of ice water. I dressed in fresh coveralls, went to a trailer where nobody lived and where nobody had died, and rolled up in three blankets rolled onto my clenched fist to ease the hollowness of my empty belly and slept twelve hours without dreaming, without waking, without, as far as I could tell, moving at ale

  In the morning I was able to eat. Then I went collecting. I looked for books, notebooks, tape decks, tapes
, letters, documents, money, identifica

  The Green Ripper lion. Brother Persival had the team's petty cash in a lockbox in the bottom of his hanging locker. A1most thirty-srx thousand. It all fitted reasonably well into the double lining of my old duffel bag. I remembered the airplane and went back to the wreck and hunted until I found the flight log. It was damp with evaporating gasoline but legible. Dates, engine hours, destinations some in the clear, some in code. Passengers and freight carried. Clear and coded. Fuel consumption. Estimated payloads. Maybe somebody could decipher where it had been and thus find some of the rest of these little warrens of Brothers and Sisters waiting to be blooded. I found the flight log, but not the arm. I walked farther afield, looking for it. I studied the trees, looking up at the crotches and crevices. No arm. Not one. Anywhere.

  There were very few documents. It was as if they had been ordered to keep noting personal. Everything I found fitted into one large suitcase from A1vor's cement house. It was black metal like those carried by immigrants in old movies.

  I had washed out the van. It had not been in bad shape. The blankets had saved it. I put my duffel bag in the van. I put the suitcase in the van. In one of the travel trailers I had found a big shiny oldfashioned alarm clock. I took it into the warehouse. I did not go all the way through to where the bodies were. I tested the alarm. It was very loud. I had located one case of six rockets. I set the alarm for five hours in the future, which would make it six in the evening. I uncapped six rockets, aimed them into different parts of the storage piles, jammed them in firmly. I took off the little acoustic caps. Just turn the switches and tiptoe out. I looked and thought, then screwed the acoustic caps back on and put the rockets back in the case, walked out and threw the alarm clock as far as I could, relocked the warehouse, and le*.

  I drove down to the gate, unlocked it, drove out, locked it behind me. The morning had been muggy. The afternoon was colder. I drove a black van with big gold crosses on the side. I tried to look pious and preoccupied. The second day of a brand-new year. I tried to hurry, but every time I looked at the speedometer, I was back down to thirty miles an hour. It seemed fast enough.

  I found a big gas station near Ukiah. I got change from the office and placed the call to the memorized number.

  It rang three times and a hushed voice, male, said, "Hello."

  '~Was someone... was someone at this number trying to reach Travis McGee?"

  "I can try to find out for you."

  'If you find out they were, I can be reached at this number." I read it off the pay phone.

  "If they were trying to reach you, they'll call back."

  I had parked the van next to the phone booth. I

  The Green Ripper sat where I could hear me ring. At four o'clock the man came out from the station. "Are you okay?"

  "I'm waiting for a call."

  "All this time?"

  'Y'm waiting for a call."

  He looked me over carefully. 'Lou sure you're all right?"

  'Em fine. I'm fine."

  After that he would come out of me building about every fifteen minutes and stare over at me.

  At 6:10 P.M. the phone rang. I moved quickly and shut myself in the booth.

  "Hello?"

  "McGee?"

  "Yes. Are you Max or Take?"

  '~either. But I know what went on."

  "Can you prove that?"

  'If you can mink of a way, maybe I can."

  'Y was with a friend. He stayed outside. We used a code."

  "Hold on. I saw that in here somewhere. Here it is. The word hat. To mean a weapon. Bring your hat."

  "Okay. I mink somebody better get here. I think Hey better get here fast. I keep kind of slipping off, in a funny way."

  '~Where are you?"

  "Near Ukiah, near an off ramp, near a Shell station. Ukiah, California."

  'because you call, we should come?"

  "I hope you're recording this, pal. Because I don't feel like going over it if you don't believe it. Brother Titus is dead. And Brother Persival and ten more of them. They're in a warehouse up in the hills. The warehouse is full of weapons, ammo, incendiaries, plastique, grenades, rockets. They were terrorists who trained all over the world and they "

  "Hold it! Can you see a motel anywhere near you?"

  I looked around. "Talmadge Lodge."

  "You have cash?"

  "Enough."

  "Go there and check in. And wait."

  'I'll use the name of Thomas McGraw. How long will I have to wait?"

  "I'd guess until six tomorrow morning. Or seven. I want to get the two you met back in on this thing. They're... pretty far away."

  There were nine of them, in three nondescript cars, and they did not want to waste any time sitting around chatting. They seemed to be under intense strain. I was in the lead car with Jake at the wheel, pointing out the way. Max leaned over from the back seat. "Why the hell did you come out here?"

  "Why not?"

  "People like you can screw everything up."

  "So why didn't you get out here first?"

  The Green Ripper

  'It was way down the list. We'd have gotten around to it. We're understaffed. Jesus C hrist, McGee, each one of us is doing the work of three men. The government solution to a problem is throw money at it. So what do you do when you can't really mention the problem?"

  "Why the big rush? Everything is still there."

  Jake said, "We've gotten to too many places right after the moving men have cleaned it out."

  I thought I had missed one turn, but I hadn't. I unlocked the gate, swung it open, and got back in. The three cars went barreling up the narrow steep road, sliding on the greasy turns. All the structures were there. The silence was there. I pointed out the building.

  I unlocked the door for them and stepped back out of the way and let them go in. I went back and leaned on a car. In five minutes two of them came out, looking a little green. Max was one of them. After they breathed in some fresh air they went back in. Ten minutes later Max came out, another man following him with a notebook.

  " and I want unmarked trucks up here, with secure drivers. The biggest that can make that last hill and the curves. They'll take the long way around from here to Fort Bragg and go into classified storage. Our people will look at the stuff there to see if there's anything new and different. Got that?"

  "Got it."

  Y want to sneak a helicopter in here big enough to fly out with eleven bodies. They should bring body bags and some graves registration people. Secure people, of course."

  "Got it."

  "I want them taken to Home Town fastest. I want a priority on those pix and prints they're taking in there. They should be about ready to give them to you, and then you can take off. Who's got that black tin suitcase?"

  "It's in the trunk of Red's car."

  "They'll fly back with us to Home Town, and when you're setting the other stuff up, make sure they get good people on E. and A. Take them off other stuff if necessary. Now read back, just the highlights."

  "Mmm. Unmarked trucks, secure drivers, classified storage at Bragg. Bodies out on helicopter. Body bags and graves registration people, direct to Home Town. Priority on the pix and prints, and I take them in. Take black suitcase out with me... no, that goes with you. What I do is get Evaluation and Analysis primed to go when it gets there."

  That was all. He went back into the warehouse. Max motioned to me, and we strolled across the flats. I told him I would show him where the airplane went in.

  "So many of them," he said. "Jesus!"

  "I know."

  "Are you all right?"

  The Green Ripper

  'I don't know what the hell it is. Like some kind of combat fatigue. Look at my hand shake. It was a long time ago, and it an came back at once."

  "You went kind of crazy?"

  "No. Not like that. I was pretty calm, actually. I mean you go along and you figure the odds of doing this and the odds against doing that, and wh
atever you do, you make it sudden and final."

  "You say three were in the Cessna? So you waxed eight of them."

  "Nine. There's one buried over a week ago. Nicky. They gave me the gun and told me to shoot him and I did. That was what started all the rest of it. Like letting some kind of bad spell out of the bottle. I thought it was a fake execution, so I fired and killed him."