James Devon was having a really good day. He felt almost giddy. He was getting ready to leave for a late lunch with William. He checked his image in the mirror. New nose, a little more chin, actually good looking. A hell of a lot better than it used to be. I should have done this years ago. He moved his face closer to the bathroom mirror. You could barely see the fine scars from his surgeries.
His mom’s voice was in his head, “You understand you are an ugly boy, right? You will never have a pretty girl. Such an ugly, ugly boy.” People had said she was the most beautiful woman in town. At her funeral, many were surprised she had a son, especially an ugly son. The thought she had spawned the likes of him was her life’s greatest curse. She hid him in boarding schools and summer camps.
When he killed her, he made sure there was no skin left on that pretty face. He began his private chant of “Pretty Mommy, Ugly Boy!” as he walked toward the front door to leave. He put on his special surgical gloves. Ordered them by the hundreds. He told people he had severe skin allergies on his hands. The FBI had his prints and DNA now. He needed to be careful. His mother had been wrong. He could have all the ‘Pretty Girls’ he wanted. He took them and used them up. They never looked so pretty when they realized they were about to die. He laughed out loud at those precious memories. He guessed that by now his murder count had to be nearing fifty.
He established a second identity about five years ago, primarily to hide himself and his money in the event law enforcement got near him. His new name was Attorney Michael Parker, a semiretired, licensed lawyer. This state didn’t fingerprint attorneys. He still based his clientele on the elderly, mostly because it was so easy. He had respect in the neighborhood, the French Quarter in New Orleans.
After all of the trouble in Indiana last year he was lucky he and William had contracted a professional to plan their escapes. It had been expensive but worth it. Now he could do whatever he wanted, to whomever he wanted, and it seldom even made the newspapers. The crime in New Orleans was so bad, the citizens were calling for the National Guard to be brought in; Murder Capital of the United States. He smiled in the foyer mirror as he curled his lips and checked his teeth. He blended in so well.
SSA Paul Casey was interviewing the guards who had been assigned to Devon from December, when he was arrested, to February 15th. According to Devon’s defense attorney, he had first met Daniel Warren, thinking it was Devon, at the prison on February 15th. The attorney had been commissioned by a Florida firm to represent Devon. He had received large monthly payments for doing so. He claimed the first he knew his client wasn’t James Devon was in the courtroom today.
Paul had called in two other agents to help him, Supervisory Special Agent Simon Frost, a veteran of about fifteen years and Special Agent Pablo Manigat, a relatively new agent transferred from New York. All three agents were present and taking notes for each of the guard interviews. According to the Warden, two guards were within sight of Devon at all times.
During the interviews, the agents discovered the guards became convinced Devon was a very passive, solitary personality. He seldom even spoke. They assumed Devon had just accepted his fate or was totally detached from reality. He spent all day, every day, in the law library researching his defense, presumably looking for some miraculous loophole. The guards eventually took to reading while they watched him. They all stated that now, in hindsight, Devon had played them. He had bored them into a relaxed security environment.
Devon had not had any contact with the other prisoners and only began receiving visitors when he decided to retain council in February. According to prison records, there had been two visits by attorneys to Devon between February 13th and 15th. Both visits were within the view of security cameras.
Paul called the DA’s office to see if they had agreed to do the deal with Daniel Warren, the Devon double. The District Attorney couldn’t take his call, was in a meeting, and would call Paul later. Paul expected this to be the difficult part, dealing with the personalities. Everyone would be in overdrive to cover their collective asses. Paul decided to call Roger about the DA deal. When he reached him, he found out about Roger’s new classification. “Whoa, I am impressed! Do I have to bow to his highness now?”
Roger made a faint chuckle sound, “Yeah, right.”
Paul started, “Well, maybe you can do something about getting us this Warren guy. No one is taking my calls.”
Roger said he would call the Director. He was still unsure about how far his boundaries really went. The Director made it clear Roger would have anything he wanted. Within minutes the State Attorney General contacted Roger and assured him the deal with Daniel Warren would be signed, and Warren would be made available to the FBI immediately. Roger thanked him and requested Warren be transported to the Indy office.
Roger called Paul, “Daniel Warren is going to be prepared for immediate delivery to our office here.”
Paul laughed, “I’ll go back to the courthouse and supervise the transport.”
Roger added, “And Paul, we are going to have the gals soon.”
Paul exhaled loudly, “Praise the Lord!”
Mathew Core was what they called a ‘Fixer’. Ex-military, his business started as a private contractor with the Department of Defense and the CIA functioning as an Independent Information and Action Source. What that really meant was he provided the government with plausible deniability, a highly valued asset, for all kinds of nasty jobs. One of Mathew’s key contacts was Jason Sims, who had been the top CIA computer forensic genius. He had actually been one of the key designers of what the CIA lovingly referred to as super-frame. The heart of the CIA computer system.
Jason had been injured in an auto accident and had convinced the CIA to allow him an early disability retirement. He had claimed his memory just wasn’t there anymore. In reality, Jason and Mathew had devised a plan for Mathew to continue to work with the government and also begin a very lucrative business with Jason. This allowed them undetected access to the government’s computers, and thanks to Jason, access to the highest level of sensitive information.
When Carl called with the assignment to do the job for William Patterson and James Devon, Mathew’s initial reaction was to decline. He wasn’t really interested in helping some murderer and a pervert escape federal prison. He preferred assignments that were a little more international. Carl’s assignments always meant big money, so Jason verified William Patterson and James Devon were worth hundreds of millions between them. Suddenly the job seemed more attractive.
Jason and Mathew had established second identities for Devon and Patterson and had established both domestic and offshore banking accounts for them. The bulk of monies belonging to Devon and Patterson were safely concealed from any government searches. Jason had established a clearing account that laundered any transactions from those accounts. Jason had hard programmed snoopers that could follow any transaction that cleared the Federal Reserve, including offshore wires.
Carl notified Mathew that William Patterson was worried he and Devon would be arrested soon. Mathew put the first part of the escape plan into effect. He had used the facial recognition software of the Department of Corrections and Military data bases to locate eight candidates each as potential doubles for Devon and Patterson. Next, he profiled the eight candidates until he had narrowed it down to three each. Those six were presented with the initial proposal, twenty thousand dollars good faith money, and the promise of a million dollars each when they got out of jail. Of course there was the threat that if they spoke of the plan to anyone, they would be killed.
Mathew had the homes, cars, and cell phones of each of the candidates bugged. He assigned his men to stay close. Four of the six broke the rules and were killed, along with the people they told. Those gruesome photos solidified the commitment of the remaining two to the project. Daniel Warren would replace James Devon in prison within two months of his arrest and Guy Johnson would replace William Patterson. That part of the plan went perfectly.
The second part of the plan was to kill the imposters, Warren and Johnson, once the trials began and their true identities were discovered. Mathew estimated confirming the true identities of Warren and Johnson would take at least a couple of days after the initial trial exposure. He had a man at the courthouse already. A neat and clean end to the job. With the impersonators dead, there was no link back to Mathew’s organization.
Mathew Core’s phone rang, “I got Johnson. Warren’s gone. Already in transport to the Indy FBI Building. What do you want me to do?” Mathew hesitated. How did they move so fast? It had only been hours. He needed a minute to think. Mark killed Patterson’s double already and Devon’s double was in transport. Mathew didn’t know how so much red tape had been cut so fast, but it didn’t matter. This could be a suicide mission and Mark Mills, his sniper, was one of his best men. Mathew had been careful that Warren and Johnson knew little about him and his operation, but there was only one way to be sure.
“Get a spot at the south garage door at the Indy FBI Center. That’s where they bring in transport. They probably won’t be expecting anything. Jason will block their communications temporarily. You may have time. Mark, be careful. If you can’t leave clean, don’t do it.”
Ellen manifested herself into a black cat and went looking for Roger’s office. She found Roger in a hall talking to some other agents. He saw her, picked her up and said, “There’s my girl! Where have you been?” Ellen winked at him, and he knew to get to a phone. Roger excused himself, went to his office, and put Ellen on his desk. “Do you want me to call Kim?” Ellen winked and turned on the TV in Roger’s office. He was dialing and watching the TV at the same time. The screen showed a black SUV weaving through traffic at a greater speed than the surrounding cars. He glanced at Ellen, this probably wasn’t good.
Kim answered on the first ring, “Roger? Oh my Gosh! Ellen just called, there’s a sniper heading toward your office that is going to shoot some guy named Daniel Warren!”
Roger’s eyes got big as he looked at the TV and then to Ellen. “Is that the sniper?” Ellen winked. Roger said, “Thanks Kim,” and hung up.
He dialed Paul, “Casey.”
Roger told him about Ellen’s tip and that he was watching the sniper on his TV. Roger asked Paul, “Where are you?”
Paul answered, “In the transport van with Warren about ten minutes away.” Roger could tell that the black SUV was about to enter the downtown district. Roger told Paul he would call back.
Roger knew he couldn’t let anyone else see what he was watching on the TV, but he needed Thor’s help getting manpower to catch the sniper. He looked at Ellen and said, “Can I buy a little time?” Ellen winked and the Black SUV started pulling hard in traffic and veered to the shoulder. It had blown a tire. The man in the SUV was moving like a NASCAR pit man changing the tire. “Thanks Ellen.” Roger called Paul, “Get here fast. He has a blown tire. That will buy us maybe seven minutes. Come in the main garage. Not the transport. I’ll have security waiting for you.” He looked up. The TV was blank, and Ellen was gone.
He buzzed Agent Dan Thor’s office, “I just had a reliable tip that a sniper is on his way here to kill Warren, Devon’s imposter. We have minutes at best. Paul is in the transport van with him and will be using the main garage. I want to catch this guy.” Thor was shocked but dialed his tactical team to meet in the conference room stat. Roger beat Thor there.
The captain of the tactical team was showing Roger the map of the transport area and a map of the surrounding buildings. “Depending on how good this guy is, there are several spots we have identified as most likely places he will set up.”
Roger asked, “If you were new to the area and pressed for time how would you do it?”
The captain rubbed his chin, “No doubt, from a car.”
Roger looked at the captain, “I want him alive.” They decided to put every available man at street level and in the parking lot. They chose a secured frequency and arranged for a dummy transport van to take the place of Paul. All eyes were waiting for someone to pull into the immediate area.
“Black SUV…facing North…just parked on Capital Ave…one guy…. Got it…. our feet on sidewalk…. Roger was listening to communications with Thor, inside the garage bay…. Eye on transport van…. moving toward Garage…SUV has rifle…. Back door of transport van opening… some muffled noises…. we have a gun to the back of his head…. his hands are up…subject in custody.”
SSA Dan Thor stared at Roger with one eyebrow raised, “That was some damn tip.”
Just then Roger’s phone rang, “Dance.”
The voice on the other end said, “I don’t know if you got my earlier message or not. I have been trying to reach you. Patterson’s trial double, standin, whatever you want to call him, Guy Johnson, was just killed by a sniper when we were preparing for transport.”
Roger said, “Exactly how long ago?”
The voice answered, “It’s been about thirty minutes now. I’m sorry Sir, but our communication lines had been compromised. The sniper is gone.”
Roger snapped his phone shut and looked at Thor, “That was confirmation Patterson’s double died from a sniper shooting thirty minutes ago preparing his transport from here to Virginia.”
Thor said, “Oh. Shit.” Roger realized he had come very close to having an unexplainable knowledge about events. He was reminded why Kim and Ellen were so careful. This was tricky. Thor scowled, “You haven’t been here two hours!” He was shaking his head walking back to his office.
Roger called Paul and told him to put the sniper in interrogation room one and keep Daniel Warren, the imposter, in holding for now.
William Patterson, now known as Bernard Jacobs, was sitting in his drawing room. He was contemplating if he wanted to go through with his lunch meeting with Devon or not. William didn’t have the stomach for Devon’s killings. Actually didn’t have the stomach for Devon, but he knew Devon provided the necessary mindset to keep them free. William also knew Devon had a lot more money than he admitted to. That was okay. He didn’t mind kicking in more than his half. After all, it was Devon’s insistence for a plan that had gotten them out of jail eight months ago. He still couldn’t believe how flawless it had been. William would never live long enough to spend all the money he had anyway. Over thirty years of stealing from trust accounts. What a joke. The government never did find his real money.
After Katrina, William had purchased a beautiful two story home on Burgundy Street only three blocks from the police station. Real estate costs inside the Quarter were outrageous, but it was the only island of safety in the city. Devon had talked him into establishing a second identity in case William’s life style choices landed him in trouble. He had completely renovated the house for his eventual retirement home. The title to the property had been in question after Katrina. Many of the records had been lost or had not been prepared well in the first place. It wasn’t very hard to get the new title corrected to his alias Bernard Jacobs. Just took a few well-placed dollars.
Establishing a second identity for future use was also easier than he thought. Actually that was how he met Carl. No questions and the job was done. When he began to worry about getting caught in Indiana, it was Carl who took over the details. Having a plan in place for their escape seemed expensive and extreme at the time. It proved to be the best money he ever spent. Now he lived only three blocks from Bourbon Street, the heart of the tourist district, and Royal Street where the wonderful art galleries and antique shops were located. Life was good.
William’s thoughts went back to Devon. He decided he might as well go. He had to eat after all, and he had a job for Devon to do. It was just a little pub called Mickey’s, a few blocks down the street, nobody he had to impress there. He decided to walk and soak up some of the flavors of the city. The air hung heavy and smelled of an underlying stench of sour mash, topped with spices and sweets. The sounds of the city pulsated with the yelps of people looking to party. The syncopated rhyt
hms of street music streamed from every dark corner and alley. Like some strange symphony absent a conductor, the cobbled sidewalks pulled the subconscious into the bluesy score that defines New Orleans.
Devon was already sitting in his favorite booth in the back watching the news. The bartender always brought him a remote for the TV when he brought his bourbon. Even though Devon never tipped, he knew William would probably join him and he tipped very well. William walked in and noticed he didn’t know anyone there except the staff. He had taken to using a walking cane, that he now used to tip ‘hello’ to Scotty, his favorite bartender. He didn’t need the cane, but he thought it made him look more prestigious. It was also a handy weapon. Today’s cane had cost him thirty thousand dollars. Hand carved by some now famous “Tramp Artist” from Louisiana. Very fitting, he thought.
He hung his cane on a hook at the side of the booth and nodded to Devon as he squeezed his big frame into the tight space. “Why don’t you sit at a normal table like normal people do?” he asked Devon.
“Maybe I’m not normal?” Devon answered with a sneer. “You’ll want to hear this.” He pointed the remote at the television and turned the volume up just enough for William to hear.
The news anchor was in Indianapolis, “The sniper shot and killed a Mr. Guy Johnson who authorities have identified as an impersonator of the famous William Patterson. Patterson, facing multiple murder charges was scheduled for his own trial in just a few weeks. He was the first witness for the prosecution in the trial of James Devon, alleged serial killer. Authorities had discovered the true identity of Mr. Guy Johnson after today’s stunning announcement in the James Devon trial. The imposter for Patterson, Guy Johnson, claimed the man in the defendant’s seat was not James Devon. Authorities said Mr. Johnson was being moved to a secure site for questioning when the sniper attacked.”
Extreme Heat Warning: A Shallow End Gals Trilogy, Book Two Page 2