by Billy Wells
Sincerely,
The Grim Reaper, A Wild and Really Crazy Guy.
As day turned into night, Halperin was a mental wreck, but despite his grief, he tried to focus on the two detectives’ questions for the sake of his sons’ lives.
“Can you think of anyone who would commit such a heinous crime against you?” Lieutenant Rollins asked.
“You don't think this is just for the ransom money?” Halperin answered skeptically.
Rollins popped a breath-mint in his mouth and replied, “It could be, but the horrific nature of the murder, the staging, and the package usually indicates an act of revenge. Whoever did this obviously wants you to feel mental anguish in addition to paying the funds.
“Truthfully, I can’t think of anyone who would commit such an inhuman atrocity against me.”
“Well, I know it’s hard to concentrate after what you’ve been through, but time is of the essence,” Rollins continued. “Think back. Maybe something will occur to you. The ransom note is unlike anything we’ve ever heard of. Usually the perps kidnap a loved one, then promise to return them unharmed when they get the money.”
“That's the way it always is in the movies,” Halperin added.
Rollins ignored this inane comment and continued, “This perp kills your wife from the get go, making it absolutely clear his threat is serious. By doing so, he made himself an automatic candidate for the needle if he's caught. The bad part is he doesn't have anything to lose if he murders again. Then, he says he will kill your sons if he doesn't get the money. It makes no sense. Why involve more than one person in the ransom demand when one would suffice?”
Halperin wavered in his chair as if he might pass out from the ordeal at any moment. His head bobbed back to attention, “What do you suggest I do?”
“I guess the first question is, do you have the funds to pay five million dollars, and can you get it in cash by day after tomorrow?” Rollin’s partner, Joe Danough, asked.
Halperin shuddered at the thought of this madman torturing and killing his sons so he decided to comply with his instructions completely and pay the ransom money. He loved his sons dearly and would do anything to keep them safe and free from pain. Five million dollars would put a dent in his savings, but he would have ten times that much left after he paid the ransom to the kidnapper.
The doctor said firmly, “To answer your question, yes, I have the funds, and I can get it by the deadline. Let me be clear. I want to follow this fiend’s instructions to the letter. I don’t want to take any chances with my sons’ lives. I order you not to interfere, and if you disregard my wishes, I will hold you responsible if this maniac injures or murders them.”
Rollins rose from his chair for coffee. His partner remained seated and added brusquely, “Look, Doc, I know you think paying the ransom will get your sons back safely. Unfortunately, most of the time, that doesn’t happen.”
“If I comply with their wishes, why wouldn’t I get them back?”
“What you’re not seeing is we’re dealing with people who could stab you in the heart as easily as stepping on a bug on the sidewalk,” Rollins said bluntly. “What’s fair means nothing to them. I’m sorry to break it to you if you don’t already know, in most cases, once the perp gets the cash; they kill the people they’ve kidnapped. Dead people can’t identify a voice or an inadvertent slip of the tongue one of these bozos may have made.”
“The reason I hesitate not to ignore the kidnapper’s demands,” the doctor countered, “is in every movie I’ve ever seen, involving the FBI and the police was like signing a death warrant for whoever was kidnapped.”
“Hey, if you kill the person right after you kidnap them, you don’t have a movie,” Danough replied. Taking a deep breath, he exhaled and continued, “Dr. Halperin, realistically, your sons may already be dead, and if they’re still alive, chances are they’ll be dead as soon as the ransom is paid. This is the reason that following the ransom demands could be actually giving away the only chance we might have to save your sons’ lives. Trust me. I know what I’m talking about.”
Halperin obsessed over their pleas for police and FBI involvement for several hours, and then, reluctantly agreed.
On the day of the drop, the doctor drove his car to the stadium and parked in the deserted lot. The FBI had coordinated everything with the local authorities, and police officers had positioned themselves as close to the bus stop as possible without being seen.
As Halperin approached the bus enclosure after parking, he looked in all directions and saw no one. He took a seat on the bench and waited.
As the seconds, then minutes ticked away, he wondered if the kidnappers had spotted the FBI or the police. They had indicated no buses were running today since there was no game.
He couldn't understand the miscommunication when he saw a bus pull into the parking lot and move toward the enclosure where he sat. The bus stopped in front of him, and the doors opened.
The driver, a man dressed in a black pullover shirt and trousers barked, “Step into the bus, and make it snappy.”
When Halperin stepped up to the level of the driver, the man grabbed the duffel bag and bellowed, “Take a seat behind me.”
“Where are my sons?” Halperin demanded.
“They’re safe. Sit down and wait for further instructions,” the driver said coarsely.
The doctor reluctantly complied, and the bus sped away. It wound around the circle and took the first ramp to the right. Without passengers, the bus accelerated rapidly onto the interstate. Halperin didn't see any FBI or police vehicles following. He had no idea what the authorities would do next.
After speeding down the interstate, the bus suddenly veered off the road onto the shoulder into a maze of concrete trusses and came to a screeching halt. The door opened, and the driver, with the duffel bag in hand, exited and ran to a motorcycle, partially obscured by a concrete pillar. He placed the bag in a basket, started up, and sped away with tires screaming down an auxiliary access road under the freeway. Halperin watched him disappear into the distance.
Immediately, the doctor saw a black helicopter lift off from behind a concrete stanchion and head in his direction. He heard sirens begin to wail, and then, three squad cars came barreling across the median in pursuit of the motorcycle.
In seconds, three black and whites pulled up around the bus. Halperin exited and met two officers under the concrete pillars. The first officer said, “He was a wily son-of-a-bitch, but we got him.”
The doctor looked at the first of the two of them with his mouth agape, “You got him?”
Halperin wondered if that meant his sons were out of danger, and his decision to go along with the FBI’s recommendation was the correct one. He got into one of the cruisers and was taken to the local police station.
Two officers escorted him into a conference room, and taking a seat, the doctor saw a picture window in the center of the wall, which he assumed must be a mirror on the other side. Through the glass, he saw the bus driver seated at a table similar to the one where he sat now. Two officers were questioning him, but he couldn't hear what they were saying.
Lieutenant Rollins entered his room and shut the door. The doctor immediately noticed the downcast look on his face as he took the chair across from him. “Well, he almost gave us the slip, but with the help of the helicopters, we cornered him in an abandoned warehouse. We were going to teargas the place when he decided his number was up and surrendered.”
“Was he armed?” Halperin asked, glaring at the bus driver through the glass.
“Actually, he wasn't. At least he didn't have a gun on him when he left the building, and we couldn't locate one inside when we searched. We recovered all the money, but I'm afraid the driver was only a decoy,” Rollins said, markedly disappointed.
“A decoy?” the doctor asked, a worried look creeping into his expression.
“Yes. The bus driver claims he was hired by someone he’d never seen before at the place he hangs out w
ith his gang. The man wore large black sunglasses, a hat that covered most of his head, and a handlebar mustache that could have been false. The apparent disguise hid almost all of his face, making any possibility of identification virtually impossible. The stranger offered him five G’s to follow his instructions.”
“What Instructions?” Halperin asked.
Rollins continued, “He told the driver to pick you up in the bus he provided, take you to the location where the motorcycle was parked, and then, deliver the duffel bag to a predetermined location. Once in the clear, he was to call a predetermined telephone number, which turned out to be a public phone, and wait for further instructions. He claims he didn't know what was in the bag, and he has no way to contact the guy who hired him other than the telephone number he gave him.”
The doctor looked at Rollins with building disdain as his eyes began to tear. “So, if he's not the kidnapper, and the real kidnapper didn’t get the money, he's going to kill one of my sons. Isn’t he?”
“The perp gave the driver an envelope to give you, in case he didn’t get the bag or couldn’t call,” Lieutenant Rollins said, handing the doctor the envelope, and avoiding the question.
Halperin's hands were shaking as he took it and placed it on the table. After a long pause, he picked up the envelope, started to sob, and tore it open. Inside, he found a single Polaroid photograph of his youngest son, Timmy, tied to a chair in a dingy warehouse. The perp had colored in his eye sockets with a black Magic Marker. The doctor pushed it aside, laid his head on the table, and began to weep uncontrollably. Rollins called for a nurse to attend to him.
The next morning, the same messenger service delivered another white package wrapped with red ribbons and a large green bow to Margaret at the front desk of the hospital. Everyone who passed by on the floor shuddered when they saw it, anticipating the impending horror their colleague, Dr. Halperin, would soon suffer.
Margaret sadly called the doctor and informed him a similar package had arrived for him. Halperin was in his office, but couldn’t muster the nerve or the strength to retrieve it. He called Rollins and told him about the package. Afterward, the doctor became so distraught he had to be sedated.
To avoid the horror a little longer, and to be on the safe side, Rollins called the bomb squad to retrieve the package from the hospital and deliver it to headquarters. An hour later, the door opened and two men wheeled in a cart and placed the dreaded square box on the conference table in front of them.
Rollins and Danough sat in silence at the table with their eyes riveted on the box with ribbons and a big bow for a long time. They anticipated the ghastly horror their blatant disregard of the kidnapper’s demands would produce as Rollins finally pulled back the top flap of the box. As expected, they found Halperin's youngest son's severed head inside. Just as before, the fiend had removed his eyes and painted the empty sockets black.
Neither agent had ever seen anything more grisly than this in his career. Neither could imagine what kind of subhuman could have done something so depraved to an innocent little boy.
Rollins commented to his partner, “I think I’d take out my Glock and blow my brains out, if I received a package like this with my little boy’s head inside.”
Beneath the blood and gore they found another note that read:
Your son, Tiny Tim, wanted you to know he thought you loved him more than the measly ransom money. You apparently need another reminder not to play with your sons’ lives so I smashed both his kneecaps before I slit his throat and gouged out his eyes with a screwdriver.
Don't fuck up the next time or Michael and Kevin will pay dearly, I promise.
As always,
The Grim Reaper, A Wild and Really Crazy Guy.
Rollins slammed his fist on the table and threw down the note, overcome with emotion. After regaining his composure, he said solemnly, “I wish we had given this lunatic the money. At least, even if he did the same thing to the kid, I wouldn't feel so guilty.”
“Hey man,” Danough said. “We didn’t write the book on protocol, we just follow it. We did what we were supposed to do. This time it backfired.”
Rollins replied, still visibly shaking from the horror, “Look, Joe. I have no intention of showing Halperin this letter. If there’s trouble with the brass because of it, I’ll accept the consequences without involving you.”
“Whatever you want to do. I’m with you, Partner.”
* * *
During the days that followed, Halperin, heavily sedated, looked like a bloodless zombie as he stared into space in his secluded hotel room. The police kept him under 24/7 surveillance.
Finally, on the fourth day, the same messenger service delivered another package. This time, it was a small pouch with a letter enclosed that read:
Tomorrow at noon, a black man dressed in a yellow polka dot suit will come to the front desk of the Elite Astoria Hotel. Book a room. He will tell the clerk at the desk he has come to pick up a duffel bag left for him by Dr. Jeffery Halperin. In case you haven’t guessed, the bag will contain $5 million dollars in unmarked bills. He will sign for it as Bozo the Clown and leave without any interference. I repeat: no one will follow him if they want to see Michael and Kevin again with their heads still attached to their bodies.
Once I have the money, and if the bills are unmarked, and you have followed my instructions to the letter and not involved the authorities, I will release your sons, and you can live happily ever after. That is, if you still can, knowing your fuckup cost your youngest son, Tiny Tim, his life.
Sincerely,
The Grim Reaper, A Wild and Really Crazy Guy.
* * *
The next day, an Afro-American dressed in a yellow and white polka dot suit went to the front desk of the Elite Astoria, signed for the duffel bag as Bozo the Clown, and left the hotel as directed. The authorities abided by Halperin’s strict instructions not to interfere.
Later that afternoon, a messenger delivered a sealed envelope to the specified hotel with a note. The agents and Halperin read it together:
Is my face red? The brother I hired to pick up the ransom has absconded with the money and has disappeared for parts unknown. I left your son, Michael, in his care, and now I don't know where he is, or if he is still alive.
I will pursue the black bastard to the ends of the earth, but for now, I must secure the cash I need for myself. Therefore, it is with deep regret that I must ask you to pay the five million dollar ransom again. Since you are running out of sons, and only Kevin might be alive, I must insist that you bring another duffel bag with the money yourself to the place where you proposed to your wife to be married. You must come alone and as I specified before if you are followed or if the police intervene I will be forced to torture and kill your eldest son in a way five times worse than your first son. So, don't fuck up.
I may be a deranged, amoral psychopath with no feelings whatever for another human being, but I am as honest as the day is long. I swear on my syphilitic mother's black heart that Bozo the Clown stole your money, not me.
Hopefully someday, you will receive a package with his head in it as punishment for his lack of integrity.
Sincerely,
The Grim Reaper, A Wild and Really Crazy Guy.
“Can you believe this bullshit,” Danough said. “Bozo the Clown stole the money, and the maniac is sorry he has to ask for the ransom again.”
“It's a crazy story, I grant you,” Halperin said, “but somehow, I think I believe it. It’s too bizarre to be anything but the truth.”
“So what do you want to do this time, Doc?” Rollins asked. “Pay or try to nail the psycho at the drop off point.”
“What I really want to do is kill the motherfucker if I get the chance,” Halperin said with blood in his eyes.
“Do you want us to back you up at all?” Danough asked.
“No. I can't take a chance with Kevin's life. I’m going in alone. Don’t interfere. He may be the only son I have left.”
He looked at Halperin with a grave expression. “I'm sorry, Dr. Halperin. They found your son, Michael, floating down by the South End Pier early this morning. He'd been in the water for about nine hours. The ME says the cause of death was drowning. His hands and feet were strapped together behind his back. He didn’t have a chance.”
“Was he tortured?” Halperin gasped.
“I don't think so, but the crabs made a mess of his body. I'm so sorry.” The lieutenant said, solemnly.
Halperin turned away and slammed his head down on the table. He began to sob uncontrollably once again. His wife and two sons had met a horrible death at the hands of this fiend. If it took all the money he had in the world, he would spend the rest of his days tracking him down and take pleasure in strangling the life out of him with his bare hands.
* * *
The next day, Halperin took the subway across town. At the fifth stop, without warning, he jumped up from his seat and scurried through the doors just as they were closing to make sure no one was following him. He had a 38 special concealed in his belt. This could be his only chance to kill the maniac, who had slaughtered his wife and sons. He had little hope the fiend would spare Kevin or himself after he got the money, but no matter what, he planned to go down swinging.
As he approached Pier 57, where he had proposed to Miriam, he saw his only surviving son, Kevin, standing near the end of the pier. Even, in the waning light, he saw the bruises and cuts that covered his son’s battered face. With his upper lip split open, and his right cheek twice the size of the other, Kevin was almost unrecognizable.
On the deck to his right, the doctor saw a black man’s body lying motionless in a pile. “Where's the madman, son?” he shouted.
“He's got a bead on us from one of the apartment building window’s across the street. He said to leave the duffel bag at the end of the pier and walk away. He said his business with us is over.”