The Scientology Murders

by William Heffernan

  “You’re a big help,” Tony said.

  * * *

  Vicky had been sitting on the Ultimar condo since seven a.m. She had spotted the red Mercedes at nine; saw that the license plate matched one on the list she had gotten from the DMV the previous afternoon. The car was registered to Avery Security and there was a man driving. Vicky debated whether to follow it and decided against it. She reasoned it was probably a boyfriend, another Avery employee who also lived in the building, or someone who had dropped something off for Meg Avery before she’d set up the stakeout. She decided to let the car go on and not risk missing Meg leaving later. Had she followed the car she would have ended up at the dealership and gotten the address the car was to be delivered to, and eventually to Meg and Tony Rolf.

  Vicky called Harry at noon and told him she’d be leaving the stakeout but would be back the following morning. Harry thanked her and said that he or Max would take a turn the next afternoon. He promised to stop by and bring her breakfast in the morning.

  * * *

  Jocko Doyle was released from the hospital at four. Harry was there to drive him home, where Maria was preparing a lavish dinner. Harry always liked visiting the house where he had grown up. It was a welcoming place for him, a place where he had healed as a young boy, a place where he had always felt safe and secure despite the horrors he had endured at the hands of his birth mother. Harry led Jocko to his favorite chair as Maria buzzed around them, offering food and drink to tide them over until dinner.

  When Maria went back to the kitchen, Jocko beckoned Harry to come closer. “She’s gonna drive me nuts, you know,” he whispered.

  “It’ll be okay,” Harry said, keeping his voice low. “A little pampering will be good for you. She’ll give you plenty of good Cuban food. I bet you put on five pounds in the first week. She’s probably got your favorite beer in the fridge—in fact, I’m going to grab a couple. So just sit back, relax, and enjoy yourself. Later we can watch the Rays on the tube.”

  Jocko waved him off. “Go get the beer. Just stop all the relax and be well bullshit. Sitting here waiting to heal is gonna drive me nuts.”

  “What do you want to do instead?” Harry asked.

  “I wanna do what you’re doing; I want to get out and look for that albino bastard.”

  Harry just shook his head and headed to the kitchen. “You’re married to a crazy man,” he told his adoptive mother.

  “What’s he wanna do now?” she asked.

  “He wants to go out looking for the guy who shot him.”

  Maria made a disapproving noise. “Over my dead body is the only way he’ll do that.” She made the sign of the cross to ward off any evil spirit who might have been listening.

  Harry kissed her on the cheek, then went to the fridge and grabbed two bottles of Modelo Especial. He noticed he had been right—there were at least a dozen bottles chilling there. “What’s for dinner?” he asked as he reached for the lid of a simmering pot.

  “Arroz con pollo,” Maria said, ushering him away from the stove.

  Harry took a deep breath, inhaling all the savory flavors of the Cuban recipe. “My mouth is already watering,” he said, bringing a broad smile to Maria’s face.

  “Arroz con pollo,” he announced as he returned to the living room and handed Jocko a beer.

  Jocko made a low, satisfied sound in the back of his throat. “Well, maybe being home won’t be so bad after all.”

  “What time does the Rays game go on?” Harry asked.

  “Seven. They’re playing the Yankees, going up against Tanaka. It should be a good game.” Jocko paused a beat, then asked: “You think that albino bastard knows where I live?”

  “Officer Moore has been assigned to this sector. She’ll be cruising by on a regular basis.”

  “I’m just wondering if that police artist who turned out to be a Scientologist gave up my home address.”

  “If I find out he did, I’ll personally break both his legs,” Harry said.

  “No you won’t. I didn’t raise a stupid son. But these bastards we’re up against, I worry about them. They always seem to have people in just the right spot when they need them. How the hell can they do that?”

  “I wish I knew.” Harry thought about Meg Adams, or Avery, or whatever her real name was. She had played him for a chump and he had walked right into it with a big shit-eating grin on his face. He wondered if it was just a case of the little head overruling the big head. He had never even suspected anything. Maybe she was just that good, he told himself. But even if she was, it didn’t matter. He had still been played and this burned inside him. It made him feel like a fool.

  * * *

  Meg worked from home the following morning. After tending to some problems at the agency she turned her attention back to Tony Rolf. She started with Regis Walsh by issuing her unsolicited advice that they move ahead with plans to get him out of the area as quickly as possible.

  “I talked up a move to Alaska, but the idea seemed to make him nervous. He was even talking about 2,000-pound bears.”

  “That’s a bit of an exaggeration.”

  “Of course it is, but do you think 1,500 pounds is going to make him feel better? He thinks he’s going to be living in subzero weather. I told him the climate was much milder than he thinks. I put together some weather charts from the Internet and I’ll give those to him this afternoon. But frankly, he’ll just think up something else, some other reason to reject it. The idea of going to Alaska clearly has him rattled. In the end you’re just going to have to lay down the law.”

  “So, you think it’s a good place for him?” Walsh asked.

  “I do. I’d prefer Australia, only because it’s even farther away, but international travel with the cops looking for him will be hard.”

  “I agree. And Alaska Airlines has a flight out of Tampa every day. Doyle and Abrams will be watching for the Freewinds, figuring we’ll get aboard in international waters. In fact, I’m going to play that card to the hilt; wait until the Freewinds is in international waters off the Florida coast before we move him.”

  “What then?” Meg asked.

  “Then we’ll send boats out to the ship, drawing the attention of the Coast Guard and the police, while we take Tony to the airport and put him aboard a flight to Alaska.”

  “And the police will be left chasing a boat while their quarry flies away to the frozen north. I love it. How long before we can put the plan in motion?”

  “I expect the Freewinds to be within range in about a week,” Walsh said. “I’ve already ordered new identity documents for Tony from a source we’ve used before. When the ship is just outside US territorial waters, we’ll move.”

  A slow smile spread across Meg’s face. Poor Harry, she thought. He’s going to find himself snookered again. She wondered how his very male cop ego would deal with it. Rather badly would be my guess.

  * * *

  Harry took over the surveillance of Meg’s condo at three p.m. Vicky had told him about the red Mercedes Cabriolet she had seen yesterday, explaining that it was on the list of cars registered to Avery Security, but since a man had been driving she had let it go rather than break off the surveillance. Meg had never shown herself, although she could have been in one of several taxis that had left the condo complex.

  At four thirty he saw the red Mercedes pull up to the gate, preparing to leave the complex. Harry was parked directly across the street and he pulled across two lanes of traffic, cutting the Mercedes off before it could enter Gulf Boulevard.

  Harry exited the car, holding out his badge as he approached the driver’s side. He rapped the badge against the window. Meg lowered the glass and smiled up at him. The first thing he noticed was that she was now a blonde—a wig, he guessed.

  “Hello, Harry,” she said. “This is a rather dramatic way to meet.”

  “I guess you’re not out of town, no matter what your flunky in the booth says.”

  “It’s nice to see you. I’ve missed you.
”

  “Stop the crap,” Harry said. “You played me and you did a good job of it. But the game’s over now. Where’s Tony Rolf?”

  “I haven’t the faintest idea.”

  “Be careful, Meg. He’s dangerous. And he’s wanted. I’d hate to have to bust you for harboring a fugitive.”

  “I’m not harboring anyone, Harry, least of all Tony Rolf.”

  Harry smiled at her. It was a cold, hard smile. “You’re beautiful, Meg. You’re a beautiful little liar. Be careful. It might cost you more than you bargained for. If you cross me you could end up behind bars. If you cross Tony Rolf you could end up on a slab in the morgue.”

  Harry turned on his heel, got back in his car, and pulled it forward to allow Meg to enter traffic. Then he pulled in behind her three cars back. He knew she would see him following her, but it didn’t matter. He wanted her to know he was on her tail and that he would remain there, whether she saw him or not, until she made a fatal mistake.

  * * *

  Meg drove her Mercedes to the Countryside Mall. She parked outside the entrance to Dillard’s department store. She made two phone calls before she exited the car: one to Tony Rolf to tell him she’d be late for their scheduled meeting, the second to a member of the Avery Security staff asking him to meet her outside the Macy’s entrance to the mall. From just inside Dillard’s she watched Harry circle the row she had parked in until a space opened up close to the Mercedes. Before he had even left his car, she was on her way to the Macy’s entrance on the other side of the mall. Twenty minutes later she was entering the yacht where Tony Rolf was hiding.

  “You’re late again.” Tony’s voice was peevish. “What’s the reason this time?”

  “Harry Doyle was following me,” she said.

  That stopped him cold. She hoped it would be sobering for him, let him truly understand that he was being hunted. He went to the salon window and peeked out into the marina. “Do you think he followed you here?”

  “No, I made sure he didn’t. But I had to abandon the Mercedes in the Countryside Mall parking lot. I’ll have somebody pick it up tonight, stash it someplace, and then bring me a rental car.”

  “They’re really hot on my tail, aren’t they?”

  “Yes they are.” Meg paused for effect and gave him a long, hard look. “All the more reason to get you relocated as soon as possible.” She reached into her large purse and pulled out the weather sheets she had prepared. She handed them to Rolf. “These will give you a clearer picture of what the weather will be like on the Kenai Peninsula. Tony, I really think you’re going to love it there, and if you don’t, remember, it will only be for a year, tops.”

  “Are you going to visit me there?” he asked.

  “I’d love to. Perhaps Mr. Walsh will have me take you up there.”

  He stared at her. She could tell he didn’t believe a word of it; there was a hard glint in his eye. Don’t play with him, she warned herself. He’s too unstable.

  * * *

  Harry thought about how easily Meg had lost him. She was good. He watched a man come and pick up the Mercedes in the parking lot. He wouldn’t be seeing that car again. He guessed she’d be using a car not registered to her company or herself, perhaps a rental that she could change every few days.

  Harry called Max and filled him in on what had happened.

  “She’s a cutie,” Max said. “Let’s see how she does with a three-man stakeout. I’m gonna put three of my best guys on her tomorrow. One will be outside her building and his only job will be to spot her. When he does, he radios the two other cars, one north of the condo and one south of it. Those two cars will follow her, switching positions regularly. The original car will remain far back and join the rotation only if he’s needed.”

  “Should work,” Harry said, “but warn your guys that she’s good, she’s very good. And don’t forget to tell them she might be wearing a wig.”

  “A wig.”

  “Yeah, today she was a blonde. I liked her better as a redhead,” Harry said.

  “As a redhead she took us to the cleaners.”

  “Yeah, there is that.”

  * * *

  Harry dropped in to see his father before heading to the boat. Jocko was snoozing in his favorite chair.

  “Everything okay?” he asked his mother.

  Maria smiled. “Everything is good. That nice police officer, M.J. Moore, she stopped by to check on everything. She said she’d be ten minutes away if we needed her. She even gave us her private cell phone number. Such a nice woman.”

  Yes, Harry thought, she is a good woman and a good cop. Just like Vicky. So who do you latch onto? A beautiful redhead who took you to the cleaners.

  * * *

  The three-car tail was set up and ready to go at seven a.m. Harry had taken the shotgun seat in the lead observation car. A second car north of the condo entrance held Max Abrams with Clearwater Detective Jimmy Walker behind the wheel. The third car, with Detective Joe Falcone driving, was parked south of the condo.

  At ten a.m., Meg exited the condo in a white Chrysler Sebring convertible, top down, her red hair flashing in the sun.

  * * *

  It was a beautiful Florida day—the sun was warm, the skies cloudless and a deep crystal blue, the temperature eighty degrees with a gentle wind blowing in off the Gulf of Mexico. This was why people flocked to Florida each year, Meg thought. She drove along the coast watching young men and women in bathing suits and flip-flops entering various shops or making their way to the beaches for a day of surf and sunshine and the chance to meet someone new. At the Clearwater Beach traffic circle she turned onto the Memorial Causeway. To the right was the marina where Harry kept his boat. She glanced in the rearview mirror and smiled. She had spotted the three-car tail as it had formed behind her. She had assumed Harry would be in the car that had been parked across from the condo entrance. He was the best choice to pick her out as she left the condo and set the tail in motion. Now, if they were running their tail as it was designed, he would be the third car back. They hadn’t expected her to be in an open car, her windblown red hair displayed like a cape to a bull. She intended to drive to her office in Tampa, where she would put on the brunette wig that was in her briefcase, switch cars, and drive back to the marina where Tony was hiding. It was a long, tedious drive, but it was necessary to keep the wolves at bay. She tried to imagine Harry’s face when he realized she had eluded them again. It would not be the ruggedly handsome face she had almost fallen for. No, indeed, it would be like the gloomy Indian who had been in the Sunday funnies when she was a child—a raincloud fully formed above his head.

  * * *

  By the time Meg got back to the marina, Tony Rolf was on the aft deck sitting in the sportfisherman’s fighting chair, soaking up some sun.

  “I wish we could take the boat out,” he said, “but I’ve never handled one this size.”

  “I have,” Meg responded. “Before you leave we’ll go out and I’ll teach you.”

  “When can we do it?” Tony asked, jumping at the suggestion.

  “Pick a day when the weather is like this and they’re predicting calm seas.” At times such as these he was like a small puppy eager for a scratch behind the ears. “Now, let’s go into the salon and go over some more information about Alaska.”

  This time he didn’t object and Meg hoped his silence meant a growing acceptance of the idea. With Tony, of course, you never knew.

  When they were seated in the salon, Meg took some papers out of her briefcase. “As we’ve told you, the man who will be helping you in Alaska is a very wealthy businessman who also happens to be a member of the church. His name is Malcolm Vandermere. His friends call him Dutch, and he’s a bit of an eccentric. He lives in Gustavus, a small bush town on Glacier Bay, population somewhere around 450 people.

  “He owns a fishing fleet that sails out of Homer in the summer, and a fish-packing plant, and he also owns a big game–hunting camp about twenty-five miles inland. He has
a twin-engine plane that he flies from Gustavus to Homer, or into Juneau to pick up whatever provisions he needs, or to treat himself to a fancy meal.”

  “How does Mr. Walsh know him?”

  “They went to college together, Yale, and they belonged to the same ‘secret society,’ Skull and Bones. A number of presidents have belonged to that society, including both Bushes. It’s said that members watch over each other throughout their lives and no member is ever allowed to fail. If he hits a rough patch in business, others will bail him out.”

  Tony stared at her, wide-eyed. “Is that true?” he asked.

  “I’m told it is, although its members are sworn to secrecy, so who knows? That’s why it’s called a secret society. I’ve heard that for a time Skull and Bones was the wealthiest corporation in Connecticut. Legend has it that its building on the Yale campus holds the bones of the Apache chief Geronimo.”

  “How did they get those?” Tony asked.

  “They were supposedly stolen from his grave by George H.W. Bush’s father, Prescott Bush, when he was a student at Yale and a member of Skull and Bones. Prescott later became a US senator for Connecticut.”

  “Jesus!” Tony exclaimed. “I can’t wait to meet this guy Vandermere and see what he’ll tell me about Skull and Bones. I wanna hear how they play fairy godmother to all these rich guys.”

  “I wouldn’t count on him telling you much,” Meg said. “The fact that people know so little about their society is what makes it so powerful.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Just look at it as another example of the rich helping the rich.”

  Tony looked up at her as though he’d just experienced an epiphany. “Yeah, I guess that’s the way it’s always been.”

  “And always will be,” Meg added.

  * * *

  Harry and Max sat in the same car. They had come to the realization that Meg had taken them to the cleaners yet again. After sitting outside her office for two hours, Max had gone up and had asked to see her. A fresh-faced receptionist told him that she had been there briefly earlier, but had left over an hour ago. Max had smiled, marched past her, and entered the main part of the office, where he found dozens of eager people working away. After flashing his tin he was directed to Meg’s office, where he found the door open and Meg nowhere in sight. Her secretary was huffy at first, but when Max again flashed his badge, she repeated the same story the receptionist had given him.