I parked the car and was walking to the front door when I heard the phone ring. I got to it before it went to the answering machine. “We need some papers your friend had. You have until tomorrow night. Don't go to the police. We're watching you all the time. Don't get cute if you want to see your wife and daughter again. Any questions?” “What kind of papers do you want?” “Everything Wayne was working on; don't leave anything out. We know what he had.” “If you know all that then why do you need them?” “Just get everything by tomorrow night and you can go on with your life. Screw up and you're all dead!” There was a click and the person was gone. I tried to get the number but it showed “unknown caller.” A million thoughts raced through my head. What should I do? Should I call the police? Who was watching me? How do these people know so much? Clearly they held all the cards. I needed a plan.
It was ten o'clock. I got into the car and started driving toward L.A. I kept checking the rear view mirror but traffic was so heavy it was impossible to spot anyone who might be following me. I came to an intersection just as the light changed from yellow to red. I could have stopped but I didn't, even though I saw the police car on the side street. Soon as I was into the intersection I saw the lights come on. A block away I was pulled over. The exchange was brief and predictable. I laid the ticket on the passenger seat and drove off. An hour later I found myself at the end of the Sana Monica pier staring into the black water far below. The pier was crowded but I sensed someone coming up beside me. He threw his fishing line into the water. “Never know what you'll catch on a night like this.” I looked at him with a sideways glance. “I didn't know if you'd get the message but I didn't know what else to do.” It was creative enough that the Officer called me right away to see if it might be real. There aren't many times when someone claims to have run a red light in order to get a message to a cop. What have you got?” I told him what had happened earlier and about the phone call. “Interesting.” Was Mike's only comment. “It sounds very well organized and that means money, power, and smart people. We'll need to think this through and anticipate their every move.” Mike was all business and I could sense he thought there was something big going on. “They want me to find some papers that Wayne had. I have until tomorrow night to produce them.” “Do you know where they are?” “Yes, Wayne showed me.” “Can you make a copy of them without raising suspicion?” “I think so.” “Good, make a copy of everything and give them the originals. Do you know what's in them?” “Wayne said it was all his research and the results so far of how Shawn is responding.” There was an awkward silence, Mike didn't want to correct me and I realized I had referred to Shawn in the present tense. “Was responding.” I said as I looked at the water and took a deep involuntary sigh. “We'll get to the bottom of this. Trust me. I'd pat you on the shoulder for support but we're probably being watched. Mike's words snapped me back to the moment. I had already lost my son and a friend and my wife and daughter's situation was unknown; I couldn't lose anyone else by being lax and letting my guard down. “I'll find the papers tomorrow, copy them and arrange to turn them over.” “We need more. We need to anticipate what they might do next. They get the papers, then what? What would they do?” “They said they would give me Vicki and Sam.” Soon as I said it I realized how childish it sounded. “They want this whole issue silenced.” “You mean kill us all?” “No, I don't think they'd want so many deaths so close together. Even if they came up with some creative causes it would be too many too soon. Someone would get suspicious and the speculation could become so widespread it would be impossible to keep a lid on it. Like the presidential assassination where people kept coming out of the woodwork saying they knew things and then meeting an untimely death; can only happen a few times and then it gets out of control, like a runaway chain reaction.” “You think that was more than coincidence?” Mike looked at me like I was from another planet. “I thought only Californians lived in a dream world. Take away the emotion that surrounded it, the fact that anyone over the age of eight in 1963 remembers where they were when they heard the news. Take that away and examine the facts like a detective and it's hard to reach any other conclusion. This could be a similar situation; we're outclassed and outgunned. We have to be smarter.” We talked for several hours. Mike caught a couple fish and threw them back. By the end of the night we felt we had a plan. I felt exhausted, but better than when I had arrived. At least now we had something, something to work toward or at least not feel like I was just their puppet. I hoped it would be enough. It had to be; there was too much riding on it to fail. As I walked away Mike said “Don't forget to pay the ticket.”
Chapter 9 Wrapping up Loose Ends
I waited around for the phone to ring or a knock on the door, anything to confirm that this wasn't a bad dream. Anything to move the process forward. The day dragged on, minute by minute for what seemed an eternity. I couldn't leave the house, I was afraid I'd miss the call. Worried sick about Vicki and Sam, devastated over Shawn and Wayne. All in all, a miserable day. Amazing how the same period of time can go on forever or seem to be over in a flash depending upon your situation. I tried to pass the time by mentally running through the plan Mike and I had come up with last night. It wasn't much of a plan, more an approach of how to react to whatever they might throw at us. At least I didn't feel I was in this alone. Weak as it was having a plan, more a pact with Mike, at least felt better than nothing at all.
Almost eight o'clock there was a knock on the door. It was the short, dark, man from the other night. “Do you have all the papers?” “Yes.” “You'd better! Come with me and bring everything.” I went and got the box of papers I had collected from Wayne's and dutifully followed him out to the car. “Put that stuff in the trunk and get in the back.” He was enjoying his role. I put the papers in the trunk and opened the right rear door and got in. The other man was in the car in the driver's seat. He didn't even look at me, rather, as the short man got into the front the driver asked him “any problems?” “No, he's beat, no problems.” He said it with a sneer and a backward glance at me. I squirmed and looked at the floor avoiding his eyes. “Figures” said the driver as he started the car and we drove off into the fading light. Shorty looked back at me and threw a black cloth bag in my face. “Put that over your head and don't take it off.” I did as I was told. The bag smelled of dried sweat. I wondered how many others had worn it before me. I really wanted to hurt these people, even if it cost me. At the very least I wanted a shot at them. There was no conversation. I could see my watch by looking down and holding my wrist up against my stomach. We drove for about forty-five minutes at a high rate of speed with little traffic. From the motions I could tell we were on a winding road; even before the hood, it was impossible to see out of the dark tinted windows. Eventually we slowed and made a sharp right and went from concrete to asphalt. I could tell this by the sound the tires made on the road. After about fifteen minutes we came to a stop shortly after the road had changed from asphalt to brick. “Keep the hood on.” The front car doors opened and then the right rear door opened and strong hands grabbed my right arm and I was pulled out. “Put your hands behind your back.” I did and and someone bound them with a plastic zip tie. I could feel the clicks and I figured it was the type the police used. It was very effective; I couldn't move my wrists at all. I could smell fresh cut grass and hay and I could hear the wind going through trees. At one point I heard a horse whinny.
I was led down a path about a hundred feet and through a doorway into a room. I was put into a wooden chair with a straight back. The room smelled like a stable. The hood was pulled off and I sat blinking into a spotlight pointed at my face. The rest of the room was dark and I couldn't see anything with the light in my face. I could sense several people moving around the room but no one spoke. Finally someone said “this is the stuff he brought.” There was some shuffling of papers and another person said “there should be more, this isn't everything. Where's the rest?” “That's all I could find, I didn't know
what he was doing or where he kept his things. All I know is he was trying to help my son get better and now my son is dead and Wayne is dead. He was robbed a few days ago, maybe whoever did that took some of his work.” There was a short laugh; that told me these were probably the same people who killed Wayne. “What do you want from me?” “What we want is to wrap things up so there are no loose ends and no problems down the road. If it was up to me you'd just disappear but a higher authority says “no” so we have to find another way. The voice was confident, even, and matter of fact. For all intents and purposes it was a business meeting and the lives of my family and me were an item to be dealt with; nothing more, nothing less, and nothing personal. The matter of fact tone filled me with dread. This was a person with no conscience. Someone who would cut your throat as easily as look at you.
“The papers don't matter. It was just to see what you would do. We got everything of value before we told you to get them. Now we just need a way to ensure your silence. Any ideas?” “You have my word I'll never say anything.” “Right, next idea.” I was desperate. “I could kill someone and you could videotape it and keep it and the gun with my fingerprints on it. That would be your leverage to guarantee my silence.” “Who would you kill?” There was a hint of interest in the voice. “I could kill a homeless person.” “Not good enough. There's thousands of them and some get killed every day; they don't even make the evening news.” Another voice spoke up. “How about a cop. What about that cop who was checking on the doc?” I got a chill. “I couldn't do that! I couldn't kill a cop!” “Why not? That sounds good, a cop will give us leverage, they never stop looking for a cop killer; done! If you don't do this we keep your wife and daughter. You tell everyone they're away getting over your son's death. That could work for six months or so and then we could take it from there.” I knew “take it from there” would be to get rid of us; enough time would have passed to where no one would tie it all together. “No, I don't want that! If there's no other choice I'll do it, I'll kill the cop!” “Call him and set up a meeting for tonight. Make it someplace deserted and tell him to come alone; make it easy on yourself.” They gave me a phone and the number for the precinct. I called and set up a meeting at a deserted fishing pier not far from the house. I tried to sound normal but Mike could tell I was upset. It probably just added to the sense of urgency and helped convince him that it was important. He agreed to meet me. I couldn't do anything to warn him; they were listening on an extension.
“Get a camcorder and a gun. Let's wrap this up and go home.” They could have been talking about finishing a shift and punching out to grab a beer. I was sweating and feeling nauseous as my situation began to sink in. What had I gotten myself into? I was going to shoot someone to death in order to save myself and my family. How could I rationalize this. Is there anything I can do to stop it? I had a lot of questions but no answers. “Where's my wife and daughter?” “They're around. You worry about taking care of business tonight. We'll call you in a few days and go from there.” They held all the cards and they knew it. I got sick to my stomach and threw up on the floor.
They cut my hands loose and put the bag back over my head. I could tell other lights were then turned on in the room. Someone grabbed my arm and led me out and down the path. I could hear a couple people talking in the room, it sounded like they were satisfied with the way things were going. I was going to kill a cop they wanted out of the way and they would get my silence and cooperation at the same time. They apparently had everything they wanted from the research Wayne had done. I don't know how they decided something was missing. Missing compared to what? The only other papers I knew of were the ones Wayne had sent for peer review.
I was put back in the same car we had arrived in; I could tell from a mark I saw on the floor in the back and the smell of it. My escorts got in the front and we drove off in silence. “Give him two rounds, no more.” “You ever fire a handgun?” “Yes, in the Marine Corps.” “Guess your gun ho got up and left huh?” They were enjoying themselves seeing my plight and helpless situation. “This is a snub nose 38 revolver with two rounds next up. All you do is point it at his guts and pull the trigger twice. Bring the gun back when you're done. Another thing, from the second I give you this I'll have a gun on you so don't get any ideas. You'll have two rounds and we have your wife and daughter.” “You made your point!” I said.
Mike got to the pier first and walked out to the end to look at the moon and the water. It was late and even though he was concerned about what was going on, he wanted the night to be over. His thoughts were interrupted by the flash of lights as a car pulled off the highway and the headlights swept across the pier. In the dark, Mike could hear the car door close; twice.
At the foot of the pier I was given the gun. “Two rounds. This camera has a lens that will pull you in like you're two feet away so don't get cute. Go take care of business and you'll have your wife and daughter back in a few days. Oh, I almost forgot, here's a wire so we can hear what you're saying.” I was shaking as I put the gun in my jacket pocket. I looked around. “Isn't there another way?” “Go! Do it or you'll never see your family again. It's a dog eat dog world so get on with it.” I wonder how many times people have said things like that to justify their actions. It's a dog eat dog world because we don't take the time to make it better. Often we're the pawns of larger forces we don;t even know about. How many people would march off to war to kill or be killed if they really had a choice. McGovern said it right “better for old men to loose their tempers at the bargaining table than for young men to loose their lives on the battlefield.” Of course that's not good for business and he didn't get elected.
I walked out to the end of the pier like I was walking to my execution. “How you doing?” “OK Mike, as good as can be expected.” “Yea. What do you want to talk about?” “I have a situation that needs to be taken care of.” As I said that, Mike was standing about two feet away facing me. I quickly pulled the gun and shot him in the stomach. He was thrown back against the railing and went down hard on his back. The look of disbelief and pain was more than I could stand. I took a couple steps forward. I held the gun at arms length, pointing straight down, and shot him in the head. I started to walk away, got about ten feet and threw up. I walked back to the car in shock and handed Daryl the gun. “Well done! We were sure we were going to have to come out there and finish it, but that second shot made it unnecessary. Why didn't you shoot him twice in the stomach like we told you to do?” “I was shaking so much I was afraid I'd miss.” “OK, let's go before people start arriving. You did good!”
The ride back to my house was a blur. No one spoke until I was getting out of the car. “We'll call you soon as everything is arranged; you've come this far, don't screw it up! Let's go Vincent. Sweet dreams Rick.” Daryl said with a smirk. I walked into the house and went into the bathroom and washed my face. Feeling a little better, I poured myself two fingers of Jack Daniels, downed it, then two more. I turned on the TV. Halfway through the eleven o'clock news there was a breaking story about the shooting, they stressed how vicious it had been and asked anyone with any information to please come forward. I downed the second two fingers and went to bed.
Chapter 10 Meeting Arranged and Arranging for the Meeting
It had been a couple days and the media was having a field day covering the shooting and all of the associated things like gun control, why do cops get shot, what was he doing there, was he dirty, etc. All of the “experts” were rounded up and paraded onto the various TV shows to prove whatever points the station, and thereby political inference, wanted proven; logic and the truth need not be present.
Parallel to that thread, they play the family card: “how do you feel about your (husband, son, father) being killed?” Rhetorical much! Just once I'd like to see someone tell a news commentator how they feel about the asinine question the commentator just asked them. In Mike's case their options were limited because he didn't have any living family other than an ex-wi
fe (I loved him so much I divorced him), so the media had to ask co-workers for their reactions and they tread lightly prodding the police officers.
The day dragged on and I spent the time, as I had every hour since the shooting, thinking about “what ifs” and getting as ready as possible for the upcoming “meeting.”
At 8:00 P.M. the phone rang; it was Daryl. He gave me the date, time, location, for the meeting and reminded me again not to do anything stupid. I submissively agreed. I hung up and went down to the garage to check, for the hundredth time, that everything was in order.
The Cure Conspiracy Page 6