by Shawn Hill
CHAPTER 11 - THE MEETING
A burning sense of urgency drags Thomas off memory lane and back to reality where all focus shifts solely to the current predicament. Right now, he’s got the upper hand and must use it in the extreme if he’s to make this work. His feet had already stepped over the line and carried him across the moral boundaries which use to seem so far away. The next steps didn’t seem like a huge stretch anymore; besides, there was no turning back, forward is the only direction.
Next, he must drive almost six hours to Houlton, Maine near the Canadian border to meet with another dangerous killer while under the guise of a contractor named Brian Johnson. They are to meet at the Community Park to discuss a fictitious job Jason told Roy he was being hired for, and Thomas needed extra time to scout the area before-hand to come up with a way to restrain and question him without being seen. Satisfied he’s obtained enough information from Jason and Chief, Thomas heads back to the room and gathers everything needed for the trip. He collects all the papers, their wallets, car keys and cell phones, puts it all in one of Jason’s travel bags and heads down to the rented minivan parked outside.
The address for the park is entered into the GPS and Thomas sighs as the estimated time, five hours forty minutes pops up. He reaches into a bag, pulls out an energy drink and chugs it down. Driving long distances was on his top ten list of hated things, and all the driving he was about to do wasn’t going to be easy without the ability to sleep. A quick toss of the empty bottle into the back seat and his foot presses down on the gas pedal.
Five hours in and Thomas continues to repeat, out loud, every detail possible, phone numbers, locations, items, placements, distances, it all mattered. He needed to know everything by heart, plus the sound of his own voice seemed to help a bit to ward of the sandman. Just keep focused, he thinks. Focus on the task at hand.
Eventually, the repetition comes at a price; it starts to numb his mind and he needs to shake it off. Loud music worked in the past so the radio is turned up and tuned to a local station playing rock ballads. It was strange, some people got energy from heavy metal or hard rock, but Thomas always drew it from more subtle genres. He could work out or train while listening to slow songs rather than so called high-energy mixes. Unfortunately, everything he hears seems to have little meaning and does nothing except fill the van with noise, meaningless annoying noise. It was worse than the numbness. In one fell swoop the radio was silenced and his voice raised. The annoyance of the music worked though. It gave his mind a break; it was just what he needed to get back to the details.
The sun is starting to rise and Thomas has just arrived in the park with a few spare hours to walk the grounds and come up with a plan. He parks by a building opposite a large baseball field containing soccer goals towards the back. This is where Roy said to meet and Thomas intended on making sure he could find a private spot to question him when the time came. The building was locked, but he was able to force open the rusted metal door with a little help from the front bumper of his rental vehicle. After gaining entry, Thomas swings the door almost shut and parks the van in front of it to hide the damage. Everything looked good from outside, so he goes inside to investigate.
It was a graveyard of equipment, at least that’s what it looked like. Ripped mats, sun bleached signs, crushed cones, PVC pipe everywhere, and some old mesh netting from a broken soccer goal which he grabs and sets by the door. There was a lot more old equipment piled up in different sections, but nothing really caught his eye until stumbling upon a rack full of baseball bats.
“Yes!” he says out loud, “now that’s what I’m talking about.”
Thomas starts picking them up one by one checking the feel and swinging each back and forth. Sadly, the idea of choosing a baseball bat for its ‘knock someone in the head’ properties would have been pretty odd just hours ago, but at the moment was all too normal. The fifth one felt pretty good, it was small and made of metal, lighter than the rest, and it would be easy to grab and quicker to swing. It’s put in the minivan on the floor in front of the passenger seat then a larger wooden one placed near the entryway of the building. For the next few minutes Thomas practices different ways of walking through the entrance and using the second bat as a weapon to disable someone walking behind him. Over and over he steps outside then walks back in, grabbing it with his left hand and swinging it right at head level.
Soon he had it down and moved on, making another round through the building seeking out useful items. While walking Thomas pauses for a second, realizes just how tired he’s become and heads to the van to get another energy drink. Remaining alert was imperative. He couldn’t slip up or he’d risk having to start all over. So far, fighting off the drowsiness wasn’t too difficult by keeping busy, but it was becoming harder and harder to do. It was a good time to walk the grounds outside, just to keep moving, while waiting for the ingredients to take effect. Thomas heads over on foot to the baseball field directly across from the parking lot and looks inside the team dugouts, making sure to keep an eye on the building and van the whole time. The structures were unimpressive, overly simple, and seemed lifeless without the players stuffed in them. They were open and highly visible which would not work well for questioning someone, though he could envision each as good lookout spot to keep an eye on the roads coming into the park.
This hypothesis is proven true when he spots a silver sport utility vehicle entering and approaching the equipment building he’s been rummaging through. Immediately, his heart starts beating faster, his hands begin to shake a bit, and his nervous system jumps to high alert. He feels caught off guard and underprepared, but makes his way to the vehicle which has now stopped behind his van, almost as if to block it in. Without hesitation, he walks to the driver’s side window and sees a middle aged male with glasses holding a map of the area. Thomas knocks, distracting him from the map and queuing him to roll the window down.
“Roy?” Thomas asks.
“Uh, no,” says the man. “My name is Pete.” “My son has a game out here today and we’re looking for the spot where we have to meet with his team.”
Thomas looks in, behind the driver, and sees a young boy wearing a soccer jersey, tapping away on a cell phone. “I thought there were no games today,” he says. “At least there aren’t supposed to be any.”
“Well, there’s a soccer game here at noon and we’re just a little early. I thought your car belonged to one of the parents, so I pulled in. People should be arriving in droves pretty soon.”
“Are you sure your game’s not on the bigger soccer field past those tennis courts?”
Thomas takes a step back from the window to point, and when he does several vehicles come into view, all turning toward the other field. Among the herd of new arrivals is a blue mid-sized car which has detoured left and pulled in behind the sport utility vehicle. It had Canadian plates and two men seated in the front. Don’t panic, Thomas thinks, they’re probably coaches from Canada here for the game.
The driver looks for a few seconds then begins to back up and turn the car around. Thomas quickly runs over waving his arms back and forth to stop them from leaving.
“Wait! Wait! Stop!” he yells out.
The vehicle stops and the driver rolls down the window. Thomas leans down a bit and sees the two men are dressed in jeans and t-shirts. Huh, he thinks. They could be here for the game. “Are you looking for the game or are you here to see Coach Johnson?”
“Coach Johnson,” the driver replies.
Thomas leans closer to the window “Let me get rid of this soccer dad,” he says. “He’s confused about where the game is.”
The driver gets out of his car and walks with Thomas, takes a quick look inside the silver vehicles windows and starts speaking to the man with glasses.
“Sir, the game is over there. You need to drive that way past the first field.”
The lost soccer dad puts his map down and looks, confirming cars are indeed driving that way. “You guys are right,” he says.
“l better get over there before my son has to sit out for being late.”
“Alright, have a good game,” Thomas says. “You can just drive around this building and exit on the other side.”
While the SUV slowly pulls forward and drives off, Thomas nervously tries to figure out a new plan to deal with the addition of a second person. It wasn’t something he’d foreseen and definitely a terrible surprise.
Once out of view, the driver of the blue car walks back to his vehicle, gets in, and moves it beside Thomas’s van. Both men climb out and the driver walks around the outside of the building as the passenger watches Thomas and looks through the windows of his minivan.
Thomas looks right at the passenger and asks. “Are you Roy?”
“Are you Brian Johnson?” He replies
“Yes, I am.”
“Jason made it sound urgent that we meet with you Mr. Johnson. What is so urgent?”
“I was told I was meeting someone named Roy here.”
“I’m Roy and so is he,” the man says. “What are we doing here?”
“You mean you and him are both Roy? You’re both named Roy?”
“Mr. Johnson, Brian, whatever the hell your name is, when someone begins to ask too many questions the mood changes, and I’m not sure I am in the mood for too many questions. Now, if you don’t tell me why we’re here, Roy is going to leave and before Roy leaves, you will cease to be.”
“Sorry, I’m confused, but I need Roy to take someone out. My boss, he’s screwing my wife and has treated me like shit for five years.”
“Take someone out? Take out your boss? Where will we take him Mr. Johnson, on a date?”
The two men laugh for a few seconds before the driver walks up to Thomas and begins to push him towards the back of the building.
“What the hell guys?” Thomas complains. “No need to push. If you want to talk elsewhere we can all just walk nicely.”
The driver punches Thomas in the back causing him to wince and stumble a bit. “We’re not here to walk nicely, so shut up and keep quiet,” he says. “Now, raise your arms above your head.”
Both men search through Thomas’s pockets and thoroughly pat him down before shoving him against the wall of the building.
“Are you a cop?” The driver asks.
“No, I’m a pissed off husband and I want the guy fucking my wife dead,” Thomas says.
“Did Jason tell you the cost?”
“No, I hadn’t really thought about the cost. I just want it done, and I’m willing to give you guys what I have.”
“Well, Mr. Johnson, Roy is not cheap.”
“I figured that. I’ll pay the price whatever it is. I just want the guy gone.”
“So, Jason didn’t say anything about the cost to you?”
“I didn’t ask. I just assumed it would be expensive.”
The passenger of the car steps forward. “I have an issue with that,” he says.
“What issue?” Thomas replies.
“Nobody meets without knowing the cost.”
“I told you, I didn’t ask him. I just told him I wanted to meet. I didn’t ask!”
The Driver pulls out a pistol and points it at Thomas, nods to the passenger, and tells him to check around front.
“You know what I think?” The driver says. “I think you’re full of shit and you’re going to die today, right here.”
A loud whistle is heard causing the driver to push Thomas against the building again. He steps close and then peaks around the side. It was another lost family roaming around looking for the game. While he watches his partner deal with the stray car, Thomas watches him and the gun pointed in his face. Thomas is extremely fearful and worried his chance to find out more is going to be over. Suddenly, he realizes the guy is preoccupied with what his partner is doing and wasn’t really paying attention to him. Now, now! It’s got to be now, he thinks. Thomas starts to slowly raise his left hand and shift his body weight onto the right leg. Then, in a quick motion, Thomas moves left grabbing the man’s wrist behind the gun to complete a wristlock he’d done hundreds of times in class. He grabs tight, tighter than ever before, and bends the man’s wrist downward, forcing him to drop to the ground.
“Go ahead; pull the trigger if you want.” Thomas tells him.
The man looks at Thomas, clearly surprised. He’d been taken off guard by a nobody and almost seemed embarrassed about it. That notion and expression dissolve quickly after Thomas kicks his temple, knocking him unconscious. Thomas grabs the gun, runs to the opposite side of the building then watches the man’s partner finish his interaction. When the lost family’s car pulls away the second man starts walking toward the back, and Thomas moves in behind. Quietly, he maneuvers around the two vehicles, staying out of site until reaching the rear corner, at which time the pace is accelerated before jumping up and kicking the man’s back. The move succeeds only in driving the guy forward and not to the ground, forcing Thomas to sprint again, tackling him instead. The struggle for dominance begins and the passenger proves challenging to control, so Thomas wraps his left arm around the man’s neck, rolls to his back then uses a hip heist technique to stand and deliver knee strikes. The fourth blow ends the struggle, leaving the second person, known as Roy, lying face down, motionless. Thomas tries to stand, but midway stops to lean and vomit. “Fuckin ay!” he says. “If I get through this, I’m learning more Jiu-Jitsu.”
Knowing the only chance to get answers and prevent a future struggle was to disable both men, Thomas moves quickly to hyperextend each of their elbows and one knee. The sound and feel each joint made while tearing was horrible, making the urge to vomit again strong, but he holds it back and continues focusing on the task at hand. It was supposed to become easier, easier to cross the line, and easier to hurt someone. It wasn’t, and his old moral compass still remained, limiting him along the journey.
The driver is first to regain consciousness and attempt to scream out, causing Thomas to grab the wooden bat by the door and stand over him prepared to swing.
“I’d stay quiet if I were you. Too many screams changes the mood and I’m not in the mood for screams.”
The injured killer quiets, but continues to move, groaning and trying to talk.
“Now, I have some questions for you two, and I’m really running out of patients. I’m just so sick of bad guys, and I am really, really tired. Here’s how this is gonna work. I’m going to ask a question and if you don’t give me the answer I need, a bone is going to break. Please, just answer the questions, there’s been enough pain and suffering, I only want answers.” Thomas leans over the man and loosens the netting which holds the rags in his mouth. “If you scream out I will use this on you, do you understand?”
“Yes. What do you want? What have you done to me?”
“I want to know who Roy is.”
“We are Roy. We work as a team named Roy.”
“You’re both in a team… and it’s called Roy? What the hell is Roy? Who names a team Roy? Are there more of you?”
“Yes, in fact, more of us are going to be here any minute. You should let us go right now.”
Thomas shakes his head and walks over to the driver’s right leg.
“I really hate this part,” he says. “I only want answers. That’s all I ever want from you guys.” He raises the bat high in the air with both hands ready to swing downward.
“Okay, okay! It’s just us, only the two of us. It’s just us two. Don’t, please!”
“Were both of you working yesterday morning? Were you and your partner, Roy number two, on Rosewater Avenue to shoot a girl named Juliandra?”
“No, I don’t know any Juliandra?”
Thomas swings the bat down, striking the driver in the shin with enough force to crack the bone, then shoves the handle into his mouth to silence the pain filled screams.
“I’m going to ask you again,” he says. “Were both of you on Rosewater Avenue yesterday morning to kill a girl named Juliandra?”
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As Thomas eases the pressure, slowly pulling the bat away to let the driver speak, sounds of groaning start to pour from the second man who’s begun to wake.
“Looks like I have two candidates for questioning now Roy number one.”
“Please,” the driver says. “I’ll answer your questions. I will answer them.”
Thomas looks back and forth comparing each of their faces.
“Ohh,” he says, “don’t tell me this guy’s your brother or something. Wait… he is, isn’t he? You two started a family business of killing people? Oh my God man, what the hell? Listen, all I want are some answers and then I’m gone. Did you kill a girl named Juliandra yesterday morning?”
“Yes, yes, a girl in a police car. Yes, her name was Juliandra.”
“That was my wife you fuck! You killed my wife!”
“What do you want? Tell me what do you want?”
“I want to know exactly where you were between 8:36am and 9:36am. I wanna know where you were hiding, what position you were in, and I want to know every fart that came out of your ass! Where were the two of you?”
“He was at a house on Title Road, the people left for the weekend. It was… it was uh… 1628 Title Road. I was a mile east waiting for the call to come get him.”
“How far from my house was he? How far from Juliandra?”
“About 320 yards north.”
“What were you driving?”
“I drove a green Ford Taurus.”
“Did you each have a prepaid phone?”
“Yeah, yeah, we always use a prepaid phone.”
“I need both numbers. If you don’t have those numbers start preying now to whatever deity you believe in. And, tell me exactly how you two worked this job together.”
Thomas pulls out a pad, the same he used in Boston to note every important detail he got from Jason and Chief. The list was about to grow, so he flips to a blank page and listens as the injured driver talks. There was no way to verify what this person, this killer was telling him, but at least he was getting something, some idea to go by, and it was better than nothing.
“Now,” Thomas says, ”I need to know exactly where your partner was in the house. Which way he was facing, what he had with him, and what doors were unlocked. That means I have to question him because you weren’t there. I don’t have any desire to hurt him more, but if he doesn’t answer my questions this bat is going to see some strikes.”
Thomas shoves the rag back in the driver’s mouth, tightens the netting holding, then walks over to the second man lying on the floor to begin the process all over again. You could just hear the yells and screams of soccer fans from outside as the players moved up and down the field over two hundred yards away. An hour and a half goes by before Thomas walks out of the building into the parking lot. He stands almost motionless, listening to the sound produced by the huge crowd of strangers gathered in one spot, each with a different life story, a different history to remember, and a different vision of the future. Every single one could have their life altered in the blink of an eye. How oblivious they all were to what was going on in the world. And then he thought. Good for them.
It was time to go… and meet with Boon.