by Bill O. A
“Are you saying there is a link between the squad that was in Vietnam for a recon mission and the murders in the country?” Todd needed some answers right away.
“Exactly my point,” replied Jack. “As we speak, agents are approaching the remaining five potential targets to inform them of the situation and gather intelligence from them. The rest should be able to give us a clue to what is happening.”
“I must admit, I never knew Paul served in the military.” Chief Lester was soliloquising.
“Okay, now that the FBI is taking over, how can we help?”
“You can assist by questioning the fourth victim’s wife and collect intel. We need to know if any stranger contacted Paul recently. Next, we will need the video clip from the hotel. We need to create a facial image of the suspect from the material we have. This is the first time we will have any footage of the suspect.”
“Be rest assured Brad and I will trace the movements of the suspect from the day he checked in and his last day in the hotel.”
The Jackson’s residence was a twenty-two-minute drive from Omaha Police Department. Todd and Eric rang the bell at the front door.
“Good afternoon, we are from the police station. We would love to speak to Mrs Jackson,” said Todd when the door opened.
The lady who opened the door was the widow’s niece. She was smallish in stature.
“I am sorry but my aunt is not receiving any visitors.”
“We understand the situation but it is important we speak with her. This will only take a couple of minutes.”
“All right, come on in and wait in the anteroom. I will see if she can spare some minutes to be with you.”
“Thank you so much.”
A few minutes later, Mrs Jackson walked into the room.
“Good afternoon gentlemen. Please can we make this as brief as possible.”
“Certainly, madam. We just have a few questions for you. Did your husband have any strange calls in past three months?”
“Well, there have been no such calls to my knowledge, and Paul doesn’t hide anything from me. If there was a problem I would know.”
“That is fine,” Todd replied. “One key question we have for you is Paul’s time in the military, his posting to Vietnam to be precise. Did he ever talk about his time there?”
“That was some time ago. If my memory is correct, that should be about forty-five years ago. He was a fine Marine you know and a very dashing one. I met him immediately he left the military. He was brilliant and intelligent, he sold the family business idea to me and I knew then I had the right man. The only significant thing he spoke about during his time with the Marines was his operations in Vietnam. He said a lot of American boys were lost and that the war was a ‘no victory, no vanquished’ situation. He was really sad about lost lives on both sides,” replied Mrs Jackson.
“That is fine ma’am, but we would really like more light on his reconnaissance operations in South Vietnam.”
“He never spoke about any recon operations.”
“Well madam, we strongly believe that his murder is a direct link to his time in Vietnam, South Vietnam.”
Mrs Jackson paused and waited to hear Todd out.
“There have been three similar murders in the country before your husband was killed, and the killer uses a sniper rifle with locally made bullets with numbers inscribed on them. The first murder had number 1 inscribed at the base of the bullet and the trend has been the same for the other murders. It seems our killer has made a hit list and your husband was on it. Now, the link to all the murders isn’t just the same MO but the four men served in the Marines and were on the recon mission in South Vietnam. It is most likely the killer is on some kind of revenge mission.”
Mrs Jackson was shocked; she hadn’t expected this at all. What could Paul have done that necessitated such murderous revenge?
“So you see Mrs Jackson, we have a puzzle to solve. We need you to think about this carefully and provide us with something, anything will do.”
“To be honest with you, if you need any reliable information on Paul’s time with the military, you would need to see Bob Grant. He is the current coach of the town’s boys’ brigade, some retirement hobby for him. They spent a lot of time talking about the military and their exploits.”
“Thank you so much ma’am, we will get in touch with Bob.”
Charles Banks has run his car rental business for the past fifteen years. He inherited the business from his late uncle. In his spare time, he engaged in shooting pool in his private bar. Two men walked into his bar.
“Hello, I am Special Agent Jack Dillon and this is my colleague. We are with the FBI.”
“What is the FBI doing in this part of town?” Charles asked. “Don’t tell me it has something to do with Paul Jackson’s murder.”
“As you can see, we are here on official business. We picked up the license plate of an American spec Chevrolet saloon, ran the plates and your business came up as the owner. The car was parked across the road of the Hyatt Hotel. The security guard said a lodger in the hotel parked the car there and has been using it for the past two weeks. Please, can you provide us with the details of who rented the car?”
Charles sensed trouble immediately. He knew he shouldn’t have collected cash from Scott Thomas, now the Feds are here.
“A man came in about two weeks ago saying he needed to rent a car. He claimed he was a photographer and a car would help him a lot during his photo shoots of the town.”
“Did he present any ID during your business transaction?”
“Yeah he did, the name on it was Scott Thomas.”
Brad looked at Jack that very instant. Jack spoke further.
“We would like it if you could come down to the Omaha Police Station to give us a description of the man.”
The FBI agents needed to compare the sketches with what they already had from other crime scenes. The three images they had didn’t look alike; their killer was an intelligent man and his disguises were making things a bit difficult for the investigation. They weren’t sure what he would look like during his next hit and needed to be one step ahead of him.
“Sure, that wouldn’t be a problem. I will love to help the FBI,” Charles said.
Bob hardly worked on weekdays during school terms. The kids were in school and the only time he had with them was during their holidays. He had become some kind of celebrity in town since he started the boys’ brigade; parents were happy their kids were getting disciplined with the pro bono programme Bob had initiated.
Today, Bob was home and going through the timetable for the next session.
“Hello sir. There are some men who would like to see you. I think they are cops,” said Joan who spoke calmly not too startle her boss.
“All right, tell them I will be there shortly, I need to finish this review.”
Twenty minutes later, Bob was in front of Todd and Eric.
“Gentlemen, what do I owe you for this visit?”
“Thank you for having us sir,” replied Todd.
“We have reliable information that you were very close friends with Paul Jackson,” Bob interjected immediately.
“That is a sad one. Paul was a fine individual, very jovial and friendly to everyone. I am still shocked at the way he died. A bullet to his head, right?”
“Well, that is what the evidence is indicating,” said Todd. He was hopeful something would come out from their discussion.
“Bob, we will be hitting the nail on its head. Did Paul ever discuss anything about his time with the Marines in South Vietnam?”
Bob paused for a moment. In that instant, he played out the various discussions he and Paul had had about Paul’s reconnaissance mission in South Vietnam. Paul had visited him on the night of Independence Day in 2013. He had a bottle of vodka which he had been saving for quite some time…
“Come on Bob, let’s celebrate the day. I hope the barbecue is ready.”
“Let’s check what
the ladies are doing by the poolside. I am sure there will be something to chew there,” Bob replied. “Paul did you by any chance hear about the fire-fighters who died in Yarnell, Arizona? What a tragedy.”
“Yeah, it kind of remind me of my time in Vietnam. There was unnecessary loss of lives on our side. We didn’t know the territory but commanders were forcing in troops, many died in their hundreds.”
“But you survived, you are a survivor brother,” Bob chipped in. “So why the gloomy face? Vietnam must have been some horror.”
“Not really,” replied Paul. “But there was this recon exercise in South Vietnam. We went in from the hills so we could have aerial advantage. The village was calm and no form of hostility was present, so the team radioed back to base that the site was safe to pass through. We began to approach the village, then all of a sudden, we heard a shout from a hut. This was followed by gunshots from an SMG. We all ducked, but two of our men were injured. Our captain told us not to retreat as that would give the attackers further leverage over us, but Daniel was always a fighter. He disobeyed a direct order and went straight for the hut. He was hit on his left arm as he approached our attackers. He quickly threw in a live hand grenade into the hut and lay down. There was a boom and everywhere was quiet. We waited a while before we all approached the hut; the captain knew that no one could have survived that kind of explosion. He ordered Tom to go in and secure the place. He went in — looked around — everyone was dead. He shouted from inside that all is clear, so the captain joined him inside. There were three men and a woman inside, they were all dead. As the captain was leaving the hut, he heard the cry of a baby. Tom was shocked. They both approached the direction of the sound — it was coming from the dead woman lying down on the ground. When they moved her body, they found a baby boy lying underneath her. She had used herself as a human shield in the last seconds before the explosion. Shrapnel had hit the woman on her right side.
Tom went outside and confronted Daniel.
‘You son of a bitch, you just killed a family in there! The captain said everyone should lie down and wait for further instructions but no, you had to be the hero. Now a baby boy is without a family, you practically wiped them all out.’
The captain came out of the hut with the baby. He had stopped crying and was rubbing the captain’s dog tag. Daniel went towards the captain. He felt sad that his action had killed the baby’s family, but knew he had saved some of his team’s lives by his decision to counter attack; the men in the hut were not joking and they had struck two team members.
‘What are we going to do with the baby?’ Tom inquired.
The captain knew that there was a problem. ‘I think we should approach the village leader and see if there is family willing to take the boy.’
‘That sounds like a good idea,’ replied Tom. ‘I will move around with Kelvin and see if he can interpret our request to some of the villagers.’
“So, what happened to the baby?” asked Eric. He was glad some valuable information was now coming out.
“The villagers didn’t accept the child. The nine-man team finally handed over the child to the Red Cross based in Vietnam after the mission. Paul told me that Daniel sends some money to the family who adopted the child; they were an English family residing in Manchester.”
“What is the name of the baby?” Todd asked.
“Well, Paul said he never heard anything about the child again, but he was sure that the Red Cross office in New York would have reliable information about the child. He must be about forty-five years old now, so if you are going digging there’s going to be a lot of years to walk back to.”
“That isn’t a problem, it is our specialty. Did Paul ever mention any name in the Red Cross who one could contact?” Todd was hoping for a positive response now.
“I don’t think I heard any name. We were just having fun that night.”
“Thank you for your time, Bob. We will definitely get back to you if the need arises.”
Chapter 6
San Francisco, California
25th June 2015, 11:00 p.m.
Sandra Gates had coffee with her; she planned to stay awake all night. The Joneses had told her to speak to the newly installed camera in Amy’s room when her experiences begin, but Amy had been asleep for close to two hours. It was a good sign that everything was going to be okay, but one could never tell.
She got up from the side of the bed where she sat and began viewing all the pictures on the wall. The ghost man was a handsome figure; he had a mole on his right cheek and dark brown eyes. She thought of how the search for the man was going to difficult as it was not known what part of the world he might be from.
She recalled how Professor George had said there was a new software cops use to track a suspect; it was in sync with all the CCTVs across the country. Once the camera captures a person’s face, the software would analyse it and compare its record from data loaded in the software. Its positive results have a 96% accuracy; it was a reliable software. Critics have commended the Government for such innovation, however the only problem is it was restricted to the USA alone and from analysis with past haptomai cases, it was possible the ghost man could be from another country.
After her little picture gazing, Sandra went back to the bed to sit some more. Within ten minutes she was sound asleep, just like her friend beside her.
In the morning, the Joneses went to Amy’s room and found the door was open. The two girls were still asleep. Jessica was so happy she hugged her husband tightly.
“The pictures worked,” said Jessica. “I am sure my family necklace given to Amy with the image of the man must have done the trick.”
Donald smiled. “Control your excitement, my dear. What we need is a permanent solution not something temporary.”
“This is a good starting point that everything is going to be fine,” replied Jessica.
“Come on, let’s not wake up the girls, especially Amy. She needs to recover from all the lost sleep.”
The dining room was adjacent to the kitchen and also had a clear view of the living room. Jessica began to prepare breakfast. Donald sat alone reading the morning papers; he had just sent a text message to both Mark and George informing them everything went well and according to plan.
“Here you go honey, some hot tea for your morning,” said Jessica, as she placed a hot cup of tea besides him. She just couldn’t hide her excitement.
“Thank you so much. I will be having this in the living room,” said Donald, as he walked away from the dining room. A message came to his cell phone. It was George.
“Congratulations. I will be in your house at nine a.m.” He read the text message and told Jessica that George would be coming that morning.
The doorbell rang. Donald got up and informed Jessica that it might be George. He peeped through the door hole and saw George waiting for a response. Donald opened the door and invited the professor in.
“Always good to see you, Professor.”
“Likewise, my friend,” replied George. “So, you say Amy had a good night’s sleep?”
“Yes, she did. She is still sleeping as we speak. Her friend also spent the night.”
“I hope you recorded everything?” asked George.
“We certainly did. It was a peaceful night, just as things were before her last birthday.”
“That is good,” replied George. “Now we must all concentrate on the search ahead. As I explained last night, we will need the services of an ex-cop. He is a close friend and he is presently a private detective. His contact with the police is strong.”
“I see. Would we need him for the online search?” asked Donald.
“Well, the search is not online but live,” George responded. “What the software does is to search for a familiar face in all the live CCTV feeds within the country. The tool has been so successful in its search since inception. Those faces identified have had a perfect match to about 96%.”
“Yeah, you said that last night. S
o where do we start with the search?” Donald was eager for some answers.
“I have sent a soft copy of the sketch to the private detective. He will communicate with his contact in the police and get the sketch uploaded with other entries. I am sure we will get a head way within a week.”
“I am impressed with the speed taken on things,” said Donald, “but how do we solve the issue with the possibility of an outside non-American individual?”
“You have spoken correctly, but what the ancient manuscript from the temple of Aphrodite says is quite different. It says the ghost man will be a person found within the geographical area of the victim’s community. Now, that can be interpreted to mean town, state, country, continent or even planet. I said planet because we are all humans and the curse has evolved over the years. The ease of movement for humans during our time is clearly different from what it used to be three thousand years ago. An individual can be in two extremes of the world within a twenty-four-hour period. So you see, the curse itself has evolved with time.”
“Okay. I get the message. You are trying to say we are in a deeper problem than what it appears,” said Donald.
“Relax. We need to start small before we consider other options. Please let us give the software a week, after that we can then start elaborating our quest.”