by Lee Driver
“Don’t make no sense,” Simon said with a huff. “If alls we had to do was make a list of the ten richest people in the world, you’d know the players. But those ten aren’t interested in anything but making more money. No. Power is what drives people, power and some global plan for humanity. A man with a vow of poverty can move mountains if he has the will to achieve his goals and enough like-minded people supporting him.”
“What are you two up to?” The men turned in unison. Sheila stood in the doorway, hands on narrow hips, jewels dangling from her wrists. She strolled on heels sharp enough to be registered as lethal weapons. Her head shook back and forth like a hall monitor who just caught two pupils out of the classroom. Well- coiffed platinum hair swung in a synchronized rhythm, each strand obediently returning to its rightful place. “I know you two aren’t butlers.”
“Some of us need a second job as caterers,” Simon sniffed. “We aren’t like some rich folk who can support a third world country with their salaries.”
“Right.” Sheila struck a thoughtful pose, left arm across her stomach, left hand propped under her right elbow while a manicured nail tapped repeatly against bright veneers. “I had expected to see Dagger.”
Simon knew when someone was fishing for information and it was probably killing Sheila not knowing Dagger’s whereabouts.
“He’s outta town,” Skizzy barked as he sidled up behind Sheila and waved his right hand across the back of her neck.
“What are you doing?” Sheila dodged his waving hand.
“Checking if you are wearing a wig. Hair looks too perfect.” Skizzy’s toy had remained silent.
Sheila flashed a smile, taking his remark as a compliment. “Where did Dagger go?”
“Didn’t tell us.” Simon placed salt and pepper shakers on the table.
“What about Sara?”
Simon smiled. “Not sure but I think Sara went out of town, too.” He watched disappointment cloud her face. “Guess your plan to get her hitched to young Nicholas didn’t work.” If Simon had expected her to deny any involvement, he was wrong.
“Can’t blame a girl for trying. Nicholas is more Sara’s age. Besides, Dagger likes refined women who know how to keep a man satisfied.”
“Guess that’s why you ain’t with him no more,” Skizzy mumbled in a voice too low for Sheila to hear.
“What do you think of Cardinal Esrey?” Simon asked.
“He’s nice,” Sheila replied in all sincerity. “Pretty down to earth. Padre likes him so I guess the Martinez seal of approval goes a long way. Have you met him?”
“No,” the two men replied in unison.
Guests started to file in. Simon rubbed his hands together. “Show time.”
“HEY, YOU MUTT!”
The gray wolf tore off for the woods, a piece of fried chicken in its jaws. The farmer had just set his plate on a picnic table in the backyard when the wolf jumped onto the table, snatched the chicken and sped through the cornfield. It had been careful to make sure the farmer didn’t have a gun anywhere around.
The gray wolf made a quick survey of the wooded area. Confident there weren’t any witnesses, it shifted to the hawk and flew to a high branch of a cottonwood tree where it shifted to Sara. She grabbed the fried chicken with both hands as she leaned against the trunk of the tree. She had gone too long without food after expending a lot of energy. The foliage was dense this high up but she still felt exposed as leaves caressed her naked body. When she finally reached her destination, she was going to have a problem with clothing. Houses were getting fewer and far between. Although the farmer’s wife had laundry on the line, it would be difficult for Sara to travel carrying the clothes. And she would have to find shoes. At least if Dagger had taken one of his own cars, Sara would have had no problem finding clothes. She kept shoes and a change of clothes in the trunk of each of Dagger’s vehicles for just such an occasion.
“Mmmmmm.” The chicken tasted just like her grandmother’s. Crispy and not too greasy. If she wasn’t already in the farmer’s crosshairs, she’d go back for another piece. Now she needed a bath. She shifted quickly and with the bones in its beak, the gray hawk shoved off the tree branch. It watched for small animals below and then dropped the bones for them to pick clean. A lake was off in the distance. Before emerging from the safety of the woods, the hawk swooped down, shifted back into the wolf and charged toward the water.
The wolf took a tentative step at the shore, padded in, then dove under the surface. It shifted to Sara. With eyes open she dipped and swerved in the murky water, barely able to see beyond six feet. Muck covered the bottom along with beer cans, what looked like railroad ties, and an automobile covered with green algae. Sara moved closer to the side window, peered inside, then pulled back in alarm. She shoved off toward the surface and came up gulping air amid a crowd of cattails.
“Why me?” She breathed in deeply trying to erase the image of the remains she saw in the car. All this time she had thought it was Dagger who attracted trouble. Now she wondered if she was the culprit, or was it just Dagger’s influence on her.
She used her hawk vision to study the opposite shoreline. Two young boys were fishing off of a pier. Ducks paddled a safe distance from the boys. A no trespassing sign was clearly posted to Sara’s right. A no swimming sign was nailed below the trespassing sign. What to do.
The farmer’s house was less than a mile away but she was not exactly dressed for walking much less for swimming up to the boys to ask if they had a telephone. She gulped air and sank back down to search the car. The license plate was hanging on by one screw. Sara tried unscrewing it but it was rusted on. She tugged, wrenching it from the bumper then swam back to the surface.
The gray wolf emerged from the water, dropped the license plate on the grass, shook the water from its body, snatched the plate in its jaws, and tore off across the field, through the woods. As it approached the farmer’s yard, it halted. A police car was in the driveway. It tensed when it saw the gun in the cop’s holster and the rifle in the farmer’s hand. It crept closer.
“I tell you, Sheriff, it was a wolf.”
“Woody, wolves want fresh meat, not something cooked to order. It was a wild dog, that’s all. You didn’t get harmed none. And I don’t want to hear of you tempting wolves or coyotes here so you can earn a bounty.” Sunlight reflected off the sheriff ’s mirrored sunglasses. The name Olsen was on his shirt pocket. He worked a toothpick around his mouth as he looked toward a pen of alpacas nearby. “If it had wanted to, it could have gone after the alpacas, but it didn’t.”
“Still don’t mean it won’t be back. I got little ones. I can’t send them out to play if…” Woody saw the toothpick drop from the sheriff ’s mouth. “What?” He turned to see the wolf creeping toward them. Woody shouldered his rifle but the sheriff clamped a hand on his arm.
“Hold it up there. It don’t look menacing. Look.” He motioned toward the pen with his chin. “The alpacas aren’t even agitated that the wolf is near. Strangest damn thing I ever saw.”
“What’s it got in its mouth?”
The gray wolf stopped, looked from one man to the next. Cautiously it moved forward, then dropped the license plate on the ground. It looked over its shoulder once, took several steps back and waited.
“What the hell?” Sheriff Olsen took several cautious steps toward the license plate. The wolf retreated, then approached, retreated again. “I think it wants us to follow it.”
“Right. Lead us right to the pack where it will rip the skin off our bones.”
“Woody, you been watchin’ too much television.” Olsen picked up the license plate, swiped a hand across the mud and muck. “It’s wet. Been in the water.”
“Hey, does that say Rosegard?”
“Why…I think you’re right.” Olsen pulled out his hankie and wiped the plate dry. “A lady who owned that flower shop over in Mitchell County went missing over five years ago. That plate number went through a statewide broadcast for at least a year.
Was real foggy that night from what the report said.”
“You don’t think she went way out of her way and ended up in our county, do you?”
Olsen looked at the wolf and cocked his head. “Unusual intelligence for a four-legged animal, if you ask me.”
“Well, we’ll just see.” Woody grabbed the license plate and called out to the wolf, “Hey, where’d you find this?” He waved the plate in the air.
“Set the rifle down so it sees you don’t mean it no harm. Lord knows, I don’t need PETA parked on my doorstep.”
Woody placed the rifle on the picnic table and took a step toward the wolf. “Show us where you found it.” The wolf took off across the field.
“Climb in, Woody. We’ll take my Blazer.”
They sped off across the field in pursuit of the wolf. Woody said, “The only water close by is over on the Bishop property. Got a ten acre pond. If someone were to take a wrong turn off that cloverleaf and mistake that tractor road for a street, they could very easily end up in a whole lotta trouble.”
The pond came into view. The wolf was standing at the edge looking at the water. It cocked its head as the Blazer skidded to a stop. Sheriff Olsen stepped out of the vehicle and stripped off his gun belt, hat, shirt, shoes, and socks.
“May as well get a little wet.” Olsen approached the edge of the pond. The wolf was just ten feet away. “That is a beautiful animal. Look at them eyes, Woody. Just beautiful.” Olsen stepped in and gasped. “Feels good. Been so hot lately.” The water crept up to his waist. “Get a rope out of the back of my truck in case I need a pull out of this muck.” When Woody returned with the rope, the sheriff tied it around his waist and then dove into the water.
Woody stared apprehensively at the wolf. “Hope you enjoyed that chicken of mine. If you’da stuck around you coulda had some peach pie.”
The sheriff broke the surface, his hair plastered to his head. He clambered out breathing heavily. “It’s there. Gotta car and a body. I gotta call it in, get the state officials out here. Let them drag the car out.”
“Well, that closes a huge case thanks to…” Woody turned. “Where’d the wolf go?”
CHAPTER 27
Padre found Cardinal Esrey pacing the walkway between the fountains and garden, hands clasped behind his back. It reminded him of his seminary days when he would catch John Wozniak pacing the seminary grounds, contemplating his desire for the priesthood and Renee Banasiak, his college sweetheart. Padre had learned several months later that Renee’s pregnancy had a lot to do with John leaving the seminary.
There could be a lot weighing heavily on Cardinal Esrey, Padre tried to convince himself. After all, he represented millions of people and a 2,000-year-old faith. The child abuse scandal was just starting to subside. He had met with a number of area priests concerned about school closings as well as representatives of Catholic charities. Although careful to show only his serious side to the press, how many people, Padre thought, would be surprised to see the collection of books which accompanies the cardinal on his travels? Besides poetry, the cardinal was a big fan of science fiction.
Cardinal Esrey stopped in front of a stone bench and sat down slowly. Padre didn’t have to be a cop to know that something was wrong, more than school closings and child abuse allegations. The cardinal leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped, but not in prayer.
Padre approached slowly, then stood for several seconds waiting. The cardinal finally looked up and pointed toward the bench. “Please,” the cardinal said.
“Forgive me for the intrusion, Your Eminence,” Padre said, taking a seat next to the cardinal. “But you look like a man in need of confessing.”
“Don’t look so depressed,” Simon said. Skizzy had made a point to place each guest’s napkin on his lap, allowing the bug monitor to pass behind the guests’ necks but not one person set off the monitor.
“Don’t seem right. Thought for sure the cardinal woulda set this thing to beeping and humming, but nope.” They stood in an alcove watching the caterers refilling platters of food. The cardinal had given a short speech of gratitude for Robert Tyler’s hospitality but all in all the event had been stiff and boring.
The cardinal’s secretary had refused to join the guests and taken a tray to his room. Even Skizzy had found the guy squirrelly, which was strange coming from Skizzy. Now Father Thomas was back, showing papers to the cardinal and talking about flights.
“The cardinal has the patience of a saint,” Simon whispered. “Trouble don’t follow a man like that.”
“Except for the break-in at his suite, the dead security guard, and the clone jumper,” Skizzy reminded him.
“Good point.”
Father Thomas had his hands full of papers as he headed for the alcove. Not watching where he was going, he bumped into Skizzy sending papers flying.
“Father Thomas, are you okay?” Simon said as he bent down to help pick up the papers. Simon looked up to see Skizzy’s eyes growing in size. He half expected them to pop out of his head at any moment. Without any warning, he saw Skizzy pass his hand across the back of the priest’s neck. The monitor started buzzing and beeping.
Skizzy jerked his hand up and clasped his ear just as the priest straightened, papers clutched to his chest.
“Sorry, it’s my hearing aid,” Skizzy blurted.
The normally congenial priest glared with righteous indignation at Skizzy, then stalked off
“What kinda hair-brained idea is rolling around in that head of yours?” Simon asked.
Skizzy pounded away on the keyboard, his face a combination of anger, fear, and maniacal devilishness. After excusing themselves from waiter duty, Skizzy had rushed back to the shop to check further into the videotapes from the airport. An hour before departing for their terminal, Father Thomas had confronted the man on the videotape while the cardinal made a stop in the restroom. It had been a heated discussion with Father Thomas blocking his way. The two men appeared to jockey for position. That was when Father Thomas slipped his hand into the man’s pocket.
“Crap. Did you see that?” Skizzy said. “Yeah. He stole something from him.”
“The flash drive. It was in the man’s pocket.”
Simon stood back and studied the man for several seconds. “Zoom in on the tall guy. See if he’s got one of them scars.”
Skizzy said, “Already checked. He’s clean. Obviously a big honcho.”
“A dead honcho,” Simon said. “If that flash drive was important and he lost it on his watch, he’s good as dead.”
“Maybe Father Thomas wanted more money for whatever it is he was hired to do.”
“What money? If Thomas has the scar then he’s a genetically engineered soldier. He does what he’s told.”
“Unless he went rogue. That’s what I think happened to Dagger. Maybe he went rogue and the powers that be can’t have that.”
Simon didn’t have an answer to that. It all made sense. “So what are you doing with the cardinal’s IP address?”
“Mr.Tyler said the cardinal isn’t up on all these new electronics, that only Father Thomas has access to the computer.”
Simon looked over Skizzy’s shoulder as he accessed a number of porn sites. “What the hell? The church has enough trouble with child abuse,” Simon argued.
“No children. These are lovely ladies, escort services, and anything else I can find. This should keep the assassin out of Rome.”
CHAPTER 28
Dagger had been sitting on the bench for what seemed like hours trying to make sense out of everything. Buildings were tethered together, all doors and windows and the same marble running up the faces of the one-story structures. He inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. The aroma from the flowers was strong. Dagger reached over and fingered the petals of one of the plants. They weren’t real. They were silk. Another sound made him spin around. Children laughing, dogs barking. Dagger dashed from pillar to pillar, making his way toward the noise. His eyes scanned the windows for
images as he moved. He made his way down the street, then turned a corner. A block away there was a park but there weren’t any children. He heard dogs barking but didn’t see any dogs. Swings moved back and forth yet no one was on them.
“What the hell?” Dagger didn’t believe in ghosts but this was like an underground city whose residents refused to leave. He checked the door to one of the buildings, tried the knob but it was locked. He pressed his face to the window and saw office furniture, computer equipment, what looked like a lab coat across the back of a chair. Using the pick gun, he unlocked the door just as a new stream of noise from the park erupted. Dagger turned to see the park filled with people.
“Shit!” He slipped into the office, locked the door, and watched the park from the window. Assured no one had seen him, he turned away from the window and studied the office. There was a flat screen monitor on the desk but no keyboard. There wasn’t a desk calendar or a scrap of paper anywhere. A stained coffee cup was once full of something that had long since produced its own penicillin. The occupant didn’t even have time to finish his coffee before vacating the premises. Dagger studied the park again. People were jogging, children were swinging on the swings, mothers were sitting on benches talking.
Dagger moved quickly to another door at the far wall and cracked it open. There was a wide corridor leading to other offices. It appeared the exterior buildings were just a false facade to the large office complex within. He turned his head to listen for sounds in the outer offices. It was silent. He returned to the window. The park was empty.
Dagger felt dizzy and wondered if the depth he had descended was screwing up his head. Maybe he needed to eat. He closed the window blinds partway then settled behind the desk. He pulled out one of the protein bars and a bottle of water from the tote bag. While he ate, he rummaged through the desk drawers. A stained paper bag was in the bottom of the drawer. He carefully lifted it and peered inside. Someone had left a lunch to mold and petrify. The top drawer held the typical office paraphernalia of paper clips, staples, pens. There wasn’t a clock or calendar in the room.