Flight of the Scarlet Tanager

by Bevill, C. L.

  “You’d think you’d remember the cameras in the library this time,” Teddy snapped. “If you hadn’t killed the last, poor son of a bitch I gave the M-PEG to, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

  Theron, flush with his triumph, strolled across the library, paused to stare at Fitch who was still sitting on the floor, and reached the side of the old majestic desk. He regarded the area, cataloging what he saw there. A thick bird book where Thomas had last left it, a laptop computer as slender as a wallet, an oak rack of cds which ranged from Bach to Wagner. “I’m so glad you reminded me, my dear. I was thinking we’d have to beat it out of you.”

  Teddy folded her arms across her chest and glared at the back of her uncle’s head. Fitch’s face was twitching. He was trying to get her attention, with Gower standing behind him so that the FBI agent couldn’t see what the young man’s face was doing. She said, “Well, can you at least tell me why Eddie Morris contacted you?”

  Theron turned and was holding her father’s binoculars in his hand. He put the binoculars down and studied his niece. “Want to put your mind at rest? Did one more person stab you in your little girl’s back?” He chuckled again. “Edward Morris did exactly what you probably didn’t think he did. He thought that he would write a teaser article for some big magazine. A prelude to another book about your family, of course. Perhaps an updated version of the first one. With an option for some asinine television melodrama. He wanted money, but he wasn’t afraid of earning it by writing another dime novel. Wanted my comment on the M-PEG footage. That’s all. And then he talked briefly about what was on the digital piece. Which, of course, led me to remember the unfortunate conversation I had,” he waved his hands around the library, “right in this room. But this time, my dear, the interior cameras are off-line. I pulled the plug myself in anticipation of any...conversations we’d be having today.”

  “I made other copies,” she stated grimly. “I made them and I hid them.”

  Theron nodded. “Of course you did, and you’re going to tell me where they are. Each last one of them.”

  “Or what?” she said incredulously. “You’ll kill me? Well, damn, I thought that was the whole point of it. Just go ahead and get it over with. Or are you trying to bore me to death?”

  Fitch was spasmodic with the silent message he was trying to convey. Teddy finally flickered her eyes to him, her look volcanic in intensity. He grimaced at her, hooking his eyes toward Bob. She couldn’t help looking toward the older man and Bob smiled at her innocuously.

  Teddy’s lips flattened into a scathing line of disbelief. Now what? I get to tell them that the unc is going to shoot them just as soon as he’s done with me. Or maybe he’ll do them first and I get the pleasure of seeing their looks of incredulity. And here’s what they’re going to say just before he pulls the trigger, ‘Whoopsie, boy, howdy, did we make a mistake or what?’

  Bob adjusted his T-shirt and waited until Gower looked back at Teddy and Fitch. Then the former physics professor pulled it tight across his potbelly for a scant second. There was a small square shape that was clearly visible for a single moment, something attached to his stomach, about the size of a package of cigarettes. Teddy started to open her mouth and then she clamped it shut again, trying to comprehend what she had just seen. They’re up to something. What? Recording the confession of the ringleader? Do they really think that they’re just going to let them waltz out of here after they get it?

  She shook her head for a second and then took a moment to return Gower’s penetrating scrutiny. “What are you staring at, Mr. Fashion Plate? If I hadn’t practically gift-wrapped myself, you never would have found me.”

  Gower stifled a snort of amusement, then sighed. “I really like the young woman, Mr. Theron. Smart, elusive, resourceful. Those qualities are remarkably absent in most people. I very much regret the inescapable consequences, especially regarding her.”

  “Which also makes her remarkably dangerous, John,” replied Theron. “Of course, now she could be persuaded into signing over her fortune. You didn’t think I’d forgotten your birthday tomorrow, my dear? But what would she say a week from now, a year from now, and she did see you commit murder, John.” Theron hesitated and folded his arms across his chest and looked unyieldingly at his cohort in crime. “Which brings me to another problem. That sheriff that you mentioned, the one in Oregon, he’s managed to gather enough questions and proof to hang you from the nearest yardarm. Urban has been leaving messages for me on every answering service between here and Washington, D.C. I assume you’re going to want your payment in a fluid form, one that will be accessible from whatever country it is that you choose that doesn’t have an extradition treaty with the United States.”

  “Sheriff Bird?” repeated Gower, a hint of doubt in his strong voice.

  “Yes, that’s right,” said Theron solemnly. “Just a little country boy, who found your fingerprint on the broken neck of the reporter.”

  “So I checked his pulse. It’s easily explained.”

  Theron shrugged. “Flimsy. Really anemic. Then there’s your fingerprint on the bullets inside the Glock that Theodora was supposed to have concealed and used on the security guard and poor Redmond. The one that you’ve never seen before. And I daren’t mention that our supplier for the incendiary material used for the device on my dear brother-in-law’s jet informs me that certain Army officers are prying around, asking questions of the management about FBI connections to the munitions company. Our accomplice called me today to tell me on my private line. I believe this would be Fitch’s father’s aide de camp poking his nose into our business.”

  “I see,” said Gower, immediately perceiving that their gambit had ultimately failed, their plans were falling apart like a sand castle dissolving in a surging tide. “I hadn’t planned on resigning from work so soon, but necessity alters the law, doesn’t it?”

  “I have some papers for you to sign here, Theodora,” said Theron cheerfully. He pulled a packet from an inner jacket pocket. “It’s postdated for tomorrow, of course, but it’s clear, and well, after the banks open, then I’ll be on a private plane to oh, South America. Bolivia, I believe. I’ve been learning Spanish. If you would be so kind to come over here and sign them, I would very much appreciate it.”

  “Bite me,” said Teddy just as cheerfully. “Bite me. Bite me. Bite. Me.”

  Theron nodded. “I thought as much.” He put the papers on Thomas Howe’s desk and pulled a Beretta pistol out of a holster under his jacket. He chambered a round and clicked off the safety with the ease of a man who had practiced the same maneuver a thousand times.

  The deadly noise made Teddy flinch with dread, but she didn’t know what else to do. Words were her only avenue of escape this time. She said, “You think the board of directors is just going to let you...”

  “They won’t have a choice tomorrow, my dear. Eighteen is the age of majority for you. Your guaranteed signature, courtesy of me, will provide exactly the right providence to move your father’s monies anywhere I wish. The Cayman Islands, Switzerland, a little island in the South Pacific. You can sign it or I’ll kill one of your friends here.” Theron raised the Beretta and pointed it at Fitch. Then he pointed it at Bob. Both men froze into place.

  “Why would I care if you killed them?” Teddy asked nastily, hoping she could bluff the man again. “Didn’t they tip you off? A little traitorous double-dealing for a quick mil or two?”

  Theron shouted with laughter. “She’s a card! She’s a little wit, isn’t she? How else would I have known that you were coming here to get another copy of the disk, Theodora? Your friend there, Robert Wren, called me yesterday. Was I still offering a reward? Was I interested in finding out where you’d be? He could guarantee that you’d show up, accompanied by his little friend, there,” he motioned at Fitch. “Oh, dear, you’ve been betrayed again. You really should be more careful whom you trust. Not that it’s going to matter anymore, but you should have been.”

  “And I�
�ll repeat the question, then why should I care if you shoot either of them?”

  “You’ll like this answer,” said Theron unwaveringly. “They weren’t really betraying you. I believe they were trying to help you. But I was suspicious. They were a little too convenient for me. A little too…melodramatic.”

  Bob started to protest, but the words died in his mouth as he watched Theron raise the automatic weapon and aim directly at the older man, his hand as steadfast as the Rock of Gibraltar. Theron went on, “He was a little too smooth. A little too practiced. I think Mr. Wren here thought he could get a message off to the local police, or perhaps some other accomplice, let me guess who? The general, your young man’s father? Send in the cavalry to save the day? But we made sure he never had the opportunity.” He laughed again and then he shot F-Bob.

  Teddy was out of her seat before she could help herself. Fitch had his hand on her leg, pulling her back. Gower had Fitch by the collar of his T-shirt, yanking him firmly, with his own Glock dug into the flesh of his neck. The veins in his head were popping out with rage as Fitch struggled with Teddy and Gower at the same time. Gower said, “Calm down, boy. You want to live as long as possible today, don’t you?”

  “Jesus Christ!” roared Fitch. “You just killed Bob! Fuck you and fuck calming down!”

  Theron strode forward and grasped Teddy by her arm and shook her viciously. “But it’s not going to happen. And you can choose to suffer or you can choose to have your young friend suffer. I think you know what happens when you provoke me.”

  Twisting her arm out of his grip, she stepped back and Fitch let go as well. Gower forced the young man to move crab-like, into the back of a leather chair. She stepped back again and then turned to Bob, who was lying on the floor. She knelt over him and took his pulse. “He’s still alive,” she said, her voice a thread of barely controlled emotion. She could see the tape recorder tucked into the front of his belly and she minutely adjusted the T-shirt so that it couldn’t be seen.

  Theron shrugged. “Not for long.”

  There was a knock on the door and Theron yelled, “What is it?”

  Another man stuck his head in, and looked at Robert Wren lying on the floor, blood spilling over his mid-section. Teddy put her hand on top of the wound and started to apply pressure. He said, “There’s something you need to see, sir.”

  Theron grumbled. “Watch them,” he instructed as he walked around Bob and Teddy. Gower nodded and went to close the large doors behind Theron.

  •

  Bishop’s private cell phone rang while he and John Henry were waiting by the front gate of the Howe estate. “Lee here,” he said.

  “Sir, it’s Captain Judd.” After spending some time on the Oregon coast, Judd had proceeded to follow through with other instructions, namely making a connection between Theron and one or more of the munitions companies that could supply the highly specialized material that was used to create the bomb that brought down Thomas and Greer Howe’s jet.

  “Have you heard from Robert Wren?” Bishop snapped out.

  “No, sir. Just yesterday, after he gave the book to one of the troopers at Salem. You know he seemed to think that I would be more open to some of the ideas he was suggesting.”

  Bishop assimilated the information for a moment. “And the warrant for John Gower?”

  “It’s in the system. Bird informed me not five minutes ago that the parish sheriff can access that document on the National Crime Information Center as a felony want. On the other matter, I have been speaking with a company located in Dallas, Texas, a company that specializes in implosions of large constructions. It seems that six and a half years ago there was a break-in involving one of their storage facilities. Care to venture a guess as to what was missing, sir?”

  “I’m not amused, Judd. Get to the point,” rumbled Bishop.

  “Sorry, sir. Five pounds of the chemical concentrate, tradaricious beloxide, a potent compound used in incendiary devices, causing a large amount of heat and explosive reaction. Apparently, very nasty stuff that tends to burn so heavily that it rarely leaves enough evidence to prove that it was used. Reexamination of the Howe jet remains just this morning shows residue of the compound in extremely minute amounts.” Judd was clearly pleased with himself.

  “Five pounds doesn’t sound like very much,” replied Bishop. He glanced to his left and found that John Henry was eying him cautiously.

  “The owner of the company assures me that six ounces is enough to level an office complex. Properly used, the amount could burn down a ten-mile square area. The compound is used rarely, but has a long shelf life. That if placed properly it could very easily destroy a plane, making it appear to be some kind of mechanical malfunction. Very much like Flight 800, which went down over the Atlantic ocean, leaving nothing but ambiguous debris.”

  “Okay, Judd. This isn’t anything the Feds haven’t probably determined already. So what are you so happy about?”

  “The good part, sir.” Bishop could tell that Judd was smiling on the other end of the phone. “The report went to the Federal Bureau of Investigations, all right, but SAIC Thorne informs me that there is no record of any such report on file now. It simply disappeared.”

  Bishop thought about it. “Or someone deliberately misplaced it.”

  “Yes, sir. But the owner of the company remembers to whom that the report was given. As a matter of fact, the owner was most descriptive.”

  “After six or so years, he remembers?” Bishop asked incredulously.

  “After six or so years, she remembers,” confirmed Judd. “It’s a family business, started by the owner’s father in 1960. And I quote, ‘A tall, blonde studmuffin with eyes as blue as the ocean.’ She was quite taken with the man. She said twice that I should tell him hi for her.”

  “Gower,” muttered Bishop.

  “You betcha,” replied Judd. “I’ve got Thorne and the local fibbies from Dallas over at her office performing another investigation. It was only the second company that I contacted.”

  “Perhaps you should consider a law enforcement career, Judd,” said Bishop.

  “My next stop is trying to make another connection between Gower, or Redmond, with Edward Morris. I’ll call you back, sir.”

  “Good job, Judd. The Army won’t approve of my uses for you, but I won’t forget.”

  “It’s all right, sir. I like Fitch. I’m praying that he’s going to be okay.”

  “And I, as well.” When Bishop disconnected the cell phone he looked at John Henry expectantly. “Did you understand the gist of that, Sheriff?”

  “Your Fed with the warrant probably had a connection to the explosive material that was used in the Learjet’s crash.” John Henry studied the gate. The person on the other end hadn’t come back for almost ten minutes and he was inclined to be less than polite at this time. He couldn’t force his way past the gates, but he wasn’t going to leave the spot until his deputy came back with a warrant. “Maybe you should let me in on the other part.”

  “What other part?”

  “This guy that called you yesterday.”

  “You mean, Robert Wren. He called my adjutant. My son called me yesterday. He didn’t think much of my turning his location over to the man who’s been trying to kill his newly found friend and him in the process.”

  “You did what?”

  “I made an error in judgment.”

  John Henry made a face. “I’d hate to be at your place for Thanksgiving this year.”

  “Well, Mr. Wren and my son hatched some kind of plan to catch Teddy’s uncle in the act. I believe that it involves some kind of recording device on one or the other. It sounds extremely feeble and dangerous to me, but they didn’t ask my opinion.” Bishop glared at the gate impotently. “Bob was supposed to call me today, to usher in the troops to protect them. However, I’m in place, but Bob hasn’t called.”

  “And you think they’re all in there,” said John Henry, pointing at the estate.

  “Ther
e was something that Teddy needed desperately. Fitch thought he could perform some kind of heroic act on her part and save the day. Except their plan laid a big egg, and I don’t have a clue as to what’s happening.” Bishop sighed uneasily. “They could be all dead, for all I know, and there’s not a thing I can do about it.”

  “Ah, Sheriff Roque,” said a tinny voice, out of nothingness.

  Both men turned toward the speaker.

  “And General Lee, what a surprise,” continued the voice, as though greeting an old friend.

  Bishop turned toward the camera that was focused squarely on the pair of them. He nodded darkly at the lens. Then he turned toward the speaker, leaning across John Henry. “Director Theron,” he rejoined, guessing correctly the identity of the speaker. “I’m so pleased you could speak with us. Perhaps we could meet in person.”

  John Henry gritted his teeth.

  “I don’t think so,” answered Theron, seemingly distant, but ever so close that both men were achingly aware of it. “I’m somewhat occupied at the moment.”

  “Deputy Director Theron,” said John Henry authoritatively. “I have reason to believe that wanted fugitives are in the Howe mansion or on the estate and I will be coming in to search for them. There could be danger involved for yourself and your staff. Let’s say I wish to avoid-”

  Theron interrupted blithely, “This conversation is over, Sheriff. You do not have my permission to enter, nor to search any part of the estate. Good day to you both.”

  No matter how many times John Henry poked and prodded the intercom button no one else would respond.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  August 18th

  Excerpt from Boudraux’s Big Book of Birding for Beginners, written by Boudraux Gille, Smith and Sons Publishing, 1987, pg. 201: The Purple Martin, Progne subis subis, is a member of the swallow family, a bird with a steely blue iridescence, appearing purple under certain lighting conditions, with a length of about 7 2 inches, and a range over most of the middle and eastern United States and Canada. This clever bird has a diet of mainly insects, varying from winged ants to wasps to termites. Their favorite prey is the dragonfly that flies at an astounding 30 MPH and the Purple Martin has to use every bit of agility and ingenuity that it possesses to capture this elusive insect...