by Bo Luellen
Richard turned to Amy and ordered, “Send the Pearce Brothers to her. Inform Feinstein we have a contract, and if she fails her obligation, we will be the security concern. I want them on her doorstep in the next 24 hours.”
From the east end of the room came a knock, and Emilia Nores nervously announced, “Señor Enfield, your eleven o’clock appointment is waiting for you in the sitting room.”
He waved her off with one hand and gulped down the rest of his rum. After she closed the door, he reached over and grabbed his laptop. His calendar had quickly filled up with meetings since his appointment as leader of the Crusaders had been announced.
Richard grunted as he stabbed buttons on the computer, “Dunn expects me to not only run the patrols with efficiency but to promote the Crusader’s hotline. The people of Tulsa are already calling Eastland with tips on the Brotherhood more often than the police. I have to authorize another hundred staff members to take in all the tips, then filter them back to the Library. It’s a house of cards. One wrong move and the whole operation falls in on itself.”
Samuel balked, “Once we have the new recruits in place inside the Crusaders, the burden will be lessened. We know precisely where the patrols are at any time, and if a tip comes in that could identify us, we take care of it. You wanted a seat of real power, and now you have it. Did you imagine this would be easy?”
Leaving the Howards behind, he walked out into the hallway of his house to the sound of his guards snapping to attention. Richard was assigned a considerable Crusader security detail to monitor the grounds and two personal sentries to stay at his side at all times. Unbeknownst to Brother Dunn, both of the men were freshly trained Leviathans. They had replaced the missing Marcus Holmes and the purple-robed man he killed in the woods at the Preserve. The soldiers were hand-selected by the Pearce Brothers and seasoned killers.
The towering guards followed him through the house to the sitting room. He stopped for a moment and composed himself before opening the double glass door. With a wide grin, Richard marched at his guest with an outstretched arm towards an older man, who was sitting in a chair made of bamboo. The odor of old spice and cheap whiskey hit Richard’s nose.
The room had a traditional oak floor and a broad set of glass windows on the ceiling that let the sunshine pour in. It was adorned with maritime memorabilia and ships in a bottle. In the center was a ship’s helm that was lying flat and had been reworked into a table.
Richard clasped the older man’s hand and firmly pulled him up out of his chair, “I do apologize for the wait. I was in prayer. This matter with the Golden Driller has us all very worried. My captains are understandably troubled. Tell me, what brings the Tulsa Police to my doorstep? It isn’t another complaint about our patrols, is it?”
The man steadied himself with his cane, “Hi, Mr. Enfield. My name is Detective John Utterson. As a matter of fact, yes. I do want to talk about the patrols and the hotline you have.”
A flush of red came over Richards’s face as suddenly he recognized Utterson from the Preserve. He did his best to steel himself and let out a little laugh. His heart beat faster at the excitement of coming face to face with the cop who took Jekyll from him. He smiled at the irony that the Detective had no clue he was Mr. Purple.
Richard waved his hand, interjecting, “Please, call me Brother Enfield. We’re both children of God fighting together to rid our good city of this evil. So, please, tell me your concerns. The Crusaders are always ready to cooperate with law enforcement.”
John nodded and replied, “Well, Brother Enfield, it’s that spirit of cooperation that I’m hoping to build on. My task force has been hitting some roadblocks. Our official police hotline has been dead for days, and we are only getting hoaxes and bad information. The people are calling Eastland when there is suspicious activity, and your Crusaders are responding before the police have had a chance to get there.”
Richard settled into a brown leather chair, “We are a servant to our community and respond when they are in need. We send you all the tips we get at the end of each day. Is that not cooperation enough?”
John adjusted his right leg, “Sending Crusaders to interview the witnesses is seen by many in the FBI as an impediment to the investigation.”
He pursed his lips and asked, “We have over thirty thousand Crusaders helping to patrol and run the hotlines every day. That is a direct reflection of the way Oklahoma takes care of their neighbors and not a statement against the police. Detective Utterson, I’m careful not to interpret your words as a threat against Eastland.”
John ran his hands through his hair, “No. Not what I meant at all. This is a mess. Brother Enfield, can we speak off the record?”
He stifled a smile and answered, “Of course. What we say here is for God and us. Speak your mind, Brother.”
The detective leaned forward and continued, “The Chief wants the Eastland call centers taken down, and is considering pressing charges against Brother Dunn for obstruction of justice.”
Richard put a hand on the table and asked, “I take it that you are risking your career telling me this because you want something different?”
John tapped his cane on the ground nervously and replied, “Your network is the best chance we have of stopping the Brotherhood. The people trust their spiritual leaders more than the cops. If those get taken down, the citizens will hate us for it, and the Crimson Brotherhood will have another victory. In all frankness, Governor Hill has issued orders to Chief Blake. ‘If the Crusaders succeed in capturing members of the cult before the police can, it will set a dangerous precedent for the Oklahoma government.’”
Richard shook his head in mock disgust, “They play their politics, all while the people of Tulsa sit in fear. They are so worried about their careers and their egos that they can’t see the glory of God’s plan. We would happily work closely with them if it meant our Crusaders would be a partner with the police. Now, I fear that it can never happen when selfish men and women sit in positions of power in this great State.”
John said plainly, “Brother Enfield, your organization is being investigated right now by a secret internal task force, headed by Detectives Michaels and Cobb. They are looking for anything the FBI can use to shut you down, and they are both very good at their jobs. All they need to do is find, or concoct, one thing, and it will spark a Federal investigation. They want you stopped at all costs.”
Richard’s cheeks went red from anger, but he said calmly, “And what is it that you want? Surely your superiors wouldn’t like you tipping us off. I believe what you are doing is considered obstruction of justice, as well. As a lawyer, I do know a thing or two about the system.”
John leaned to one side and replied, “I think our best chance is to work together. This witch hunt into Eastland is a waste of resources. I believe it is unethical and illegal.”
Richard smiled and calmly asked, “Detective, have you ever heard of the Whistleblowers Protection Act?”
Chapter 4: John VI
Tulsa, Oklahoma – Monday, November 5th, 2018 – 8:15 a.m. CST
It was cold in Veterans Park, and John Utterson’s ankle ached more now than it had when he first broke it. Standing at attention in his dress uniform on the uneven ground was causing sparks of pain to shoot up his body. He cursed silently to himself, wishing the ceremony would hurry up and start.
Aggravated, he whispered, “Why are we holding this out on the grass. I’m freezing.”
Captain Andino stood to his left in his own dress uniform, “Tulsa is under attack, and the city workers refused to build the ceremonial stage. Death threats from the Crimson Brotherhood had flooded the Tulsa Christian Crusaders hotline over this award ceremony. They promised swift reprisal if honors were placed upon the murderers of those faithful to Cthulhu. So, the Chief wanted this held outdoors. He said it would minimize the chance of someone hiding a bomb.”
John scoffed, “That is idiotic. There are a dozen places a sniper could be hiding. Oh, well. At
least the city isn’t backing down. I just wish Terry could be here.”
The Captain adjusted his collar, “Detective Johnson has plenty of work to do getting up to speed. Considering our losses at the Preserve, we need as many good people on the streets as we can get, injured or not.”
The Detective bragged, “It’s not everyday that someone can ace a Detective’s exam from their bedside. He’s always been a natural at investigative work. It would take time for him to be able to be on active duty again, but I’m happy having him behind a desk and helping the team.
He looked over at Terry’s mother Evelynn and then at the TV news cameras, Having the mother of my dead partner at my side to collect an award for Terry will look good for me. The Johnston family might hate me for what happened to David, but Evelynn will have to stand with him in the spotlight publicly. Terry and David will always be my brothers, but after being despised by the Johnston’s for so long, they’ve earned some return on their judgmental negativity. Mrs. Johnston will have to shake my hand and smile at the cameras.
Chief of Police Blake Kelly finally walked up to the podium and announced, “Thank you for coming. We’re here today to honor and recognize the men and women who have made the ultimate sacrifice to keep Tulsa, and their families, safe. We’re also here to honor family members of the fallen officers here today. My prayers go out to you, and I hope this day brings some comfort. I want to welcome and recognize Governor Katherine Hill for joining us in honoring these brave Oklahomans.”
The names of the dead officers were read off, their families recognized for their loss, and medals given to the wives, husbands and mothers. The sounds of sobbing spread as the ceremony continued. John was starting to sweat badly from pain, and felt the pill bottle in his pocket.
He licked his lips and thought, If this doesn’t end soon I’m going to pass out.
After a few more minutes, the Chief turned to them, “Officer Terry Johnston was injured during a terrorist blast in a Tulsa apartment building. He was pulled out by a local hero, Larry Lanyon, whose life was tragically taken. Officer Johnston went through hours of surgery to remove shrapnel and to treat burns. When I spoke to him this morning, he said there was no question about returning to work and came back off of medical leave early. He’s absent today because he is at the department and working hard to protect Tulsa lives. Giving him the Medal of Honor and the Purple Heart is the least we can do.”
John bit back some tears at the speech as a round of applause started. Terry’s mother walked up and received her son’s award with a smile. John had become even more determined not to let his injuries be for nothing.
He gritted his teeth and thought, The Crimson Brotherhood will pay for this.
After pinning a medal on Captain Andino, the Chief turned to John, “Detective John Utterson pursued more than just the truth, he relentlessly upheld the law in the face of overwhelming adversity. His actions led to the discovery of the heinous murders of over two hundred souls, the terrorist organization known as the Crimson Brotherhood, and he was the first to find their hideout. At great personal risk, and working with injury, he helped save lives and apprehended one of their ringleaders, Henry Jekyll. When I asked why he didn’t accept the paid medical leave he told me, ‘My job isn’t done.’ Detective John Utterson, awarding you the Medal of Honor and the Purple Heart is the least the city can do.”
A rousing applause blasted out from the audience as the Chief pinned both of the honors on his coat. At that moment he felt no pain and lavished in the admiration of his fellow officers who had once belittled him as a drug addict. His Captain slapped his back with his white gloved hand and Mrs. Johnston was forced to pucker a smile for the cameras. He leaned in and gave the elderly woman a kiss on her cheek and enjoyed the anger she was compelled to contain.
He looked out into the crowd and saw his brother Karl standing next to his wife Sarah and his two nephews, Charles and Alex.. He hadn’t spoken to his sibling since the Preserve, mostly due to the pressures of the task force. Karl brought up his cell phone and took a picture of John shaking the Chief’s hand.
The moment was everything he had hoped for, The newspapers will make the name John Utterson into Tulsa’s own Elliot Ness. The town will watch as I hunt down the Crimson Brotherhood. People love a comeback story.
Reporters snapped photos as he displayed his new honors. The flashes of the cameras and the applause of the crowd was the validation he had so wanted. He was a shooting star, thanks to the Brotherhood.
He looked at his brother’s approving face and thought, Maybe life isn’t as awful as I thought. Maybe Dad was right, good things do happen to those that put in the time and effort.
As the Chief made his way back to the podium, “We have one more medal to give out.”
John’s brow scrunched up in confusion at the statement, as everyone who was involved in the Battle of the Preserve had been recognized. He repositioned his cane for better support and did his best to maintain a fake smile. From the side of his vision, he saw David Keller walk out from behind the line of those honored. All the cameras whipped around to focus in on the animal that was sitting in a red wagon the big man was pulling. The three-legged, one-eyed German Shepherd named Charlie was resting its chin on the wooden guard rails and looking inquisitively out over the crowd. The dog had on his old police vest that John had found him in back at the Preserve.
The Chief turned to the K-9 and announced, “This officer lost his leg in the performance of his duty on a drug raid some years ago. He was retired and handed to a new owner named Nancy Bell. Bell and Charlie worked together at a homeless shelter in downtown Tulsa, providing support and guidance for the less fortunate. Bell was abducted by the Brotherhood and Charlie refused to let her be taken. They both found themselves captive on the Preserve and in mortal danger. Because he wouldn’t cooperate, they took his eye and tortured him. Nancy Bell’s life was taken from us, but Charlie was with Detective Utterson’s team as they apprehended Henry Jekyll. He sustained life-threatening wounds in defense of Detective Utterson and it is clear that this brave dog was a key factor in the apprehension of the Crimson Brotherhood ring leader.”
John saw that every audience member had their cell phones out to record the moment. His jaw dropped, and he reeled at the way his Chief was giving a dumb dog his moment. Anger turned his face a beet red.
He thought to himself, Fine. The dog gets an award. Who cares. The Chief wants a PR moment. Let him have it.
The Chief brought out a brand new police vest for the animal and announced, “We have lost precious blood and with it, outstanding officers. During his time in the force, Charlie was one of the best drug and explosive-sniffing K-9’s in the unit. I’m officially re-instating him to reserve status. Most of you might know Mr. David Keller as one of the brave civilians that helped apprehend Henry Jekyll. I should note that David Keller has requested to aid the department by volunteering to keep Charlie until he is fit to return. Since K-9 units live with their handlers and operate as partners, the Tulsa Sheriff Patrick Lloyd has made Mr. Keller a reserve deputy sheriff.”
The crowd let out a sound of approval as the dog looked around, slightly confused but happy. Keller carefully took off the K-9’s old vest and replaced it with the new one. John gripped his cane tightly, as his temper boiled up.
The Chief held up Charlie’s old vest, “This will be hung up in the station as a symbol that Oklahomans persevere and never give up. They have desecrated our monuments, taken our loved ones but fueled our resolve.”
Those in attendance stood up and applauded. Keller had a broad smile on his face and shook the Chief’s hand. The big man wheeled the dog’s cart to the side and stood there as several police officers gave Charlie a warm welcome back to the force. Utterson looked out at the crowd who was fawning over the crippled mutt. His family had stopped recording him and were now taping the animal. He instantly hated them all for belittling what he had achieved.
John felt a nudge on his arm and h
eard Mrs. Johnston’s tiny voice, “Why John, if you don’t clap, people might start wondering about you.”
He shot a look towards her and glared at the elderly woman’s sarcastic grin. He wanted to leave, scream or do something, but he couldn’t. He had to live through this indignity. Begrudgingly, he lifted his hands and robotically applauded, as a loud cackle came from Evelynn.
Tulsa, Oklahoma – Monday, November 5th, 2018 – 10:02 a.m. CST
John had said his goodbyes to his family after the ceremony and posed for several pictures. He had conducted three interviews with reporters, which lessened the sting of the insulting way the event had ended for him. He was talking to Captain Andino when he saw the Chief marching towards them.
Chief Kelly ushered them both behind a police vehicle for some privacy, “Pony show’s over! Governor Hill and the Mayor Walker are all over me. Every four hours I have to call them and give them a progress report. I want you two taking the gloves off. Start shaking down every informant you have. I want arrests, gentlemen. We are looking like keystone cops compared to Greyson Dunn”
His Captain started to speak, but John interrupted, “The town believes in the Crusaders more than us. They are calling them with tips, leads, or suspicious activity. Hell, the dog catcher is getting more calls about cult tips than the task force. Our chances of catching a real lead to Brotherhood activity goes up exponentially if we agree to cooperate with the Crusaders.”
His Captain stayed silent as the Chief shook his head, “John, the Governor has been clear on this. The Crusaders are not police officers, and, for the good of the Department, they never will. We are the law, and it is the Mayor’s position that giving that privilege to a vigilante force of that magnitude is a recipe for disaster. That is an opinion I share and I expect you to as well.”
