by Jerry Bruce
“Adam’s right, Richard, we can’t give up.”
“Christine, you of all people know how frustrating this has been for me. It’s been even more frustrating for you having to put aside our feelings for each other while we pursued this madman. No, it’s time for you two to move on with your lives.”
“And what about you? Don’t you think that you are a part of my life, now and forever? You make it sound like we are never going to be together.” Christine’s despondency was obvious and made Adam so uncomfortable that he got up from the couch and wandered over to the bar to make a drink.
“I didn’t mean for it to come across that way. It’s just that I can’t ask either of you to devote any more time to a lost cause. You’ve seen what’s happened over the last couple of days. No one is taking me seriously. After the BNN interview aired, the studio got calls wanting to know how they dared to air such fiction in light of what happened to me and my family. They don’t believe that I’m alive! If they can’t believe that, how are they going to believe that there is a Controller and that he poses a threat such as none they have ever seen?”
“Ignore that. Those are the ramblings of the same few that always find a conspiracy in everything.” Adam returned with his drink and returned to the couch. “There has to be a way Richard. We can’t just quit now, there’s too much at stake.”
“Adam, I have always cherished your loyalty and dedication. There is no one I trust or rely upon more than you. But you have to let go of this. Every day puts you and your family closer to the kind of anguish that I have had to suffer. I don’t want that for you.”
“Aren’t you forgetting one thing? It’s my decision to make, not yours. I decide my own fate, no one else.”
“That may be true, but if you continue to hunt the Controller, you will be doing it without me. I’m done, I’ve had enough.”
“So what do you intend to do with the rest of your life? You realize that as long as the Controller is alive and searching for you that your life is going to be worse than you can possibly imagine. And what about Christine? Are you going to have her constantly on the run with you?
“Why don’t you just worry about yourself and your family and leave my well being to me. I have no intention of subjecting Christine to any more danger. Both of you have been kept waiting in the wings for this very reason. The Controller doesn’t know you are involved and will ignore you. But you have to forget about him and try to put your lives back together.”
“What are you trying to say, Richard? You aren’t telling us everything that you’re thinking.” Christine could sense that there was more going on in Richard’s head than what he was saying.
“I’m saying that you have to get on with your life … without me. I can’t be responsible for more deaths. I’ve already allowed so much evil to run rampant, I just can’t be put in a position to allow it to continue. You have to stay as far away from me as possible.”
“Don’t I get any say in this? What if I want to be with you, no matter what the circumstances? Doesn’t that count for anything?”
“It’s impossible for us to go on like this. It isn’t fair to either of us. What would the quality of our lives be like, being constantly on the run? No, Christine, I’m sorry, but it’s all over.”
With that Richard abruptly rose and went to his bedroom, closing the door and his life on the last two people closest to him.
Christine couldn’t believe what Richard said and through her tears she looked at Adam. “He still didn’t answer my question, Adam. I think he has a plan that he isn’t willing to tell us about. And I’m afraid of what that plan might be.”
* * *
Several days passed with Richard refusing to take any calls from Adam or Christine. He would have equally withdrawn from Ralph if it were not for the fact that they were sharing the apartment. Ralph grew more wearisome with each day that he had to stay with an increasingly secretive Richard. Richard was unwilling to discuss the Controller or any plan that he might be harboring. Ralph was certain that he was indeed planning something, especially after talking with Christine and Adam. They convinced him to try to draw something out of Richard and hopefully put an end to any idea of going after the Controller single handedly. Ralph regretted having to tell them that Richard was becoming more secretive with each passing hour and that there was little if any chance of him discovering what the plan might be.
* * *
Several days passed before Richard summoned agent Roberts to the penthouse apartment. Roberts was stunned. He didn’t know what to make of this proposal. Surely the former president wasn’t himself and was still suffering from the shock of what happened to his wife and children.
“Sir, are you positive that you want to go ahead with this? I don’t mean to be second guessing you, but this could have disastrous ramifications.”
“I assure you, agent Roberts, I’m quite positive.” Richard’s senses, so often relied upon to get him through tough negotiations, were working overtime getting a reading into what Roberts was saying. “You are, more than likely, thinking that I am not myself, that my composure has been rattled. You may even be thinking that I’ve gone off the deep end. Well, I haven’t. In fact I have never been as clear headed as I am now. There comes a time when a man, if he’s lucky, reaches a state of clarity. After all the day-to-day obstacles are removed, all the worries, and all the apprehensions and fears are gone, then and only then can he see what’s truly important. I’m at that point now, agent Roberts.”
“But, sir; this is a … .”
“Suicide mission?”
“I didn’t want to put it quite that way; but, since you brought it up, yes I believe it is a suicide mission. We could never be certain that our security measures would be enough. There are too many chances for failure in this plan, sir.”
“That is precisely why I believe it will work. In fact, I would be willing to bet my life on it that the Controller himself will show up to witness the event.”
“You are betting your life on it, Mr. President.” Roberts placed great emphasis on the “Are.”
“What you have to remember, agent Roberts, is that it is my life to do with as I choose. And I choose to go ahead with this plan—with or without you and your men.”
“I couldn’t live with myself if I let you do this alone, Mr. President.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Richard hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in a week, spending hours pacing in his room, his mind racing, going over every detail repeatedly. He could think of nothing else since the futile attempt to capture the assassin, convincing himself that there was only one course of action left open. He couldn’t help wondering if the beautiful blond assassin was one of the team that killed Veronica and the children. If so, which member of his family did she murder? Was she the one that took such relish in making Randall’s murder as gruesome as possible? Was she the one that so brutally cut the throat of Veronica? Maybe her appearance hid the strength that was able to snap Jennifer’s neck so abruptly.
Richard didn’t like the idea of using the funeral for Veronica and the children as the bait, but reasoned that if, in death, they could help apprehend the Controller, it would serve as testament to their goodness.
Agent Roberts was devoting all his time, and that of several of his team members, to scouting out the cemetery where Veronica, Randall, and Jennifer would be laid to rest. They quickly realized that the former president chose this particular cemetery not out of sentimentality but for reasons much more serious. It was their consensus that Sinclair picked this facility because of all the hiding places it afforded a potential assassin. Multiple groves of tall trees and mausoleums of varying sizes outlined an open area where the Sinclair family gravesites were located.
Roberts and his team would set up a perimeter to encircle the area, keeping the groves and structures within, and extending out far enough that the kill zone was completely contained. At Richard’s insistence, there would be no agents within th
e perimeter.
“President Sinclair has really set himself up. He’s too smart to allow this to happen by accident.” Agent Farley shook his head in dismay while uttering the words to no one in particular.
Roberts couldn’t let the comment go without a response, “Yeah, he is one smart cookie. And you know something else?”
“No, what’s that?”
“He is the bravest man I have ever met.”
* * *
“What! Are you crazy? I think what happened to your family has pushed you over the edge Richard. You can’t be serious about this?”
Richard had just told Ralph all the details surrounding the family funeral arrangements. Once again Ralph was being given an exclusive story—one he could do without.
“Maybe I have been pushed over the edge, Ralph. I can’t honestly say that I’m the same sane man I was a few years ago. Maybe my crusade has taken more of a toll than I realize. I do know one thing for certain, the Controller will be there and one of us is going to die.”
“You don’t have any way of knowing that he will show up in person. He will probably just send one of his paid killers to take you out while he watches on TV.”
“Don’t ask me to explain it, because I can’t. Just let it suffice that deep down inside I know that he is going to be there. Something tells me that there is so much anger within him, so much hatred for me, that he wouldn’t miss this for anything. He’ll be there.”
* * *
Ralph broke the story and almost immediately, the other networks paused their regular programming to give a newsflash that they would be covering the funeral services for Veronica, Randall, and Jennifer Sinclair. They reported that the church services would be held in two days and were restricted to immediate family and friends at an undisclosed location so that the grieving family would not be disturbed. The reports went on to say that after the church services, the ceremonies at the cemetery would be televised live.
Watching the monitors only occasionally, he put down his book when he heard the familiar music that Artistel used to announce an upcoming newsflash. He listened intently as the date, time and location of the burial ceremonies were announced. Pausing only for a moment’s contemplation, he picked up the phone, the look on his face testament to the evil lurking behind the steely eyes and the sneering smile.
* * *
“We’re ready whenever you are, Mr. President.” The Secret Service agent had already made sure that the Radliff family members and Richard’s parents and siblings were in their respective limousines before summoning the former president. The vehicles were parked behind the church and out of view of passing cars. One would never know that a service had been held only minutes before.
Richard walked past the other limousines before reaching his and at each gave an acknowledging wave. What was going on in his mind only he knew. The seemingly endless hours he spent with the families took a great toll. He felt tapped of his last bit of strength and was almost welcoming what he thought might happen over the next couple of hours.
It was a ten-mile trip to the cemetery, most of it by a motorway thankfully devoid of intersections and traffic lights and blessed with light traffic. On the surface streets, each time traffic was stopped to let the funeral procession through, Richard looked out through the heavily tinted windows at the faces of those in their waiting cars, wondering if they knew who was passing by in the black hearses, or if they even cared. He had sacrificed and given all that he had, including his family, in his quest to fulfill their demands and desires. Now he wondered if any of it really mattered.
Shortly before arriving at the cemetery he noticed several helicopters hovering over the procession. They had been in the air for a quarter of an hour in anticipation of the procession’s arrival. The ever-present media, he thought to himself. He couldn’t blame them this time, it was his own doing that brought them out; he wanted the coverage and wanted everyone to see what would surely transpire—the capture of the Controller.
The vehicles wound their way slowly through the maze of roadways that led to the area where the Sinclair family plots were situated, finally coming to rest about thirty yards from where the ceremony would take place.
Agent Roberts and his men had been waiting outside the cemetery, abiding by the president’s request, and didn’t man their posts prior to the arrival of the funeral procession. They had to make sure that any assassin would be able to station himself without restriction. Upon the procession’s arrival they immediately fanned out far from the center of activity and stationed themselves at their predetermined posts. Each man knew that there was probably an assassin lurking somewhere within their line of sight, probably up in one of the trees. In their briefing, Roberts went so far as to caution his team that there might be as many as three assassins. He reminded them that a triangulated kill zone was the surest way to success, insuring that at least one assassin would be in position to get off an effective shot.
Roberts had only one thing on his mind. Since the former president wouldn’t allow him to afford any protection, only permitting him to react, he would have to make sure that the assassin didn’t get away. To that end, he had extra agents stationed around the perimeter whose only task was to make sure that no one left the scene. Waiting outside the cemetery were several vans of police personnel surrounding the entire grounds and manning the gates to make sure no one left without his permission. Hours before the motorcade arrived, the local police cleared everyone from the cemetery and made a sweep that would get innocent bystanders out of the way, but not thorough enough to thwart a would-be assassin. Whether there were one, two or three assassins, all would be trapped. Everyone who should be in the cemetery was on a list, both guests and agents. All local police were also accounted for in a similar manner. Anyone not on the two lists would be apprehended.
Richard didn’t entertain a single doubt that the Controller was going to be there. He felt certain that the maniac wouldn’t let the opportunity pass to see his nemesis struck down. He had to be there to personally witness the event. His deranged mind wouldn’t allow it to be any other way.
It seemed like hours, instead of minutes, to Richard as he waited in his limousine. His Secret Service guard would summon him once all the other vehicles had emptied of their occupants and everyone was gathered around the gravesite. Even though he was gazing out the window, he wasn’t seeing and was startled when the limousine door suddenly opened.
“We’re ready, Mr. President.”
Richard was suddenly taken back to better times at the sight of David Weathers, the first Secret Service agent assigned to him once he became a candidate for the presidency. As Richard got out of the car he took David’s hand and gave it strong handshake. “Thank you, David. I’m surprised to see you here. I haven’t seen you in years. How have you been?”
“When I found out that there was going to be a funeral for your family, I insisted that they assign me to the detail. I mean … I feel like they are my family as well.”
“Thank you, David. We always looked upon you the same way. Well, guess I better get this show on the road, huh?”
“Yes, sir.”
“David, they told you about the arrangements didn’t they?”
“If you mean about not being with you during the ceremony, yes they did. I have to say Mr. President, this is not a good idea. Please let me be there, to protect you.”
“No, David. I have my reasons, believe me. You can be of the most help if you just honor my wishes.”
“As you wish, sir.”
“Just do me one favor, if you will, David?”
“Anything, Mr. President, just name it.”
“Just make sure you nail the guy.”
“Sir?”
Without answering, Richard started the walk up the slight hill to the gravesite.
* * *
Roberts looked around, scanning anything and everything with his field glasses. He was almost positive that he saw a glint of light reflected from w
ithin the dense foliage of the cluster of trees closest to the funeral site. Focusing his glasses upon the treetops, he gradually worked his way down each tree. About half way down the second tree, he thought he saw a faint outline. Uncertain as to whether he was actually seeing someone or just imagining that there was someone there, he gave a second look. No doubt about it, he was watching a sniper position himself. Oh how he wanted to close in and nail the bastard. His frustration caused him to clench his fist so hard that it hurt as his fingernails pressed into his palm. Then he calmly gave instructions to his team that a sniper was in the grove to the southeast of the burial site. He then cautioned them again to keep looking for others.
* * *
No one gave a second thought to the man in the black cashmere overcoat, in spite of the unseasonably warm weather. Like almost everyone present, he was all in black and blended into the dozens of mourners, all of whom stood in stark contrast to the white, wooden, folding chairs in which they were seated. He didn’t seem to be anything more than another member of the close circle of friends that were paying their respects.
No one noticed when his black limousine stealthily slipped into the cathedral parking lot at the precise time that the Secret Service agents were concentrating on getting Richard safely inside. His driver cleverly positioned the vehicle so as to allow him to join the ensuing procession without being detected. Complete with the “funeral” stickers on its windows, it fit right in. Human nature being what it is with normal people wanting to brag about anything that breaks up the monotony of their lives, the Controller had found it extremely easy to discover the site of the services from one of the funeral parlors employees. He remained in the limousine while at the cathedral, lest he draw attention to himself. “Bide your time. Plenty of time remains for you to bathe in Richard’s grief.” He whispered to himself, all the while smiling.