by Sam Black
Jennifer and I tried to start a family for two years and finally decided one of us had a problem. We went to a specialist in Atlanta and ran tests. Jennifer was not capable of having any children. It took her several years to get over it. I suggested we adopt. She wouldn’t hear of it—that being the only time in our marriage we had disagreed on anything major. She still had Rocky and she had her orchids. Her orchids became her family.
David and I had an agreement drawn up by his lawyers. He financed the whole project, including the five hundred acres, the house, manufacturing facility, security fence, and payrolled all employees for two years. He also continued to pay me $5000 per month. The total was in excess of $32,000,000. After two years, I would get fifty percent of the profits and had to manage and pay all expenses. After five years, he would no longer be a partner.
David turned a $32,000,000 investment into a $60,000,000 profit in five years. He never slowed down, nor questioned my judgment, only offered advice, usually on a weekly basis.
I paid cash for the 5000 foot landing strip, the hangar and the corporate jet, eight years after SAWWS Inc. became operational. The cost of the jet, landing strip and hangar totaled over $28,000,000.
Ten years after the first vile of serum sold, SAWWS Inc. had a cash flow of over $485,000,000. SAWWS Inc.’s net worth was in excess of $800,000,000. Jennifer and I owned SAWWS Inc. lock, stock and barrel.
Jennifer and I never took a vacation during those ten years. We did take several long weekends to various places after SAWWS Inc. had acquired the jet.
Chapter 28
OCTOBER—WAKING UP
I woke up staring at the ceiling; panic set in instantly. The nightmares were bouncing around inside my head. Cheryl had her right arm across my chest; her right leg entwined with my right leg. She breathed slowly. We were both dressed in our same clothes, which were now wrinkled. I looked at my watch and the time read 5:28. I glanced toward the curtains and the sun wasn’t up yet. The clock on the night stand read the same time as my watch. My empty stomach growled. My mouth tasted like spoiled tuna.
I gently took Cheryl’s arm and removed it from my chest. She rolled the opposite direction, gave a soft moan and never woke up. I swung my legs slowly and my feet hit the floor. I stood up; my legs were still asleep. I went to the bathroom and threw cold water on my face. The image in the mirror showed a disgusting human being.
After looking in the mirror for several minutes, I rummaged through my backpack for some clean clothes. I headed for the shower and ran hot water on my neck and back trying to uncork the aches I still had from shoveling Georgia clay.
My eyes were sunk into my head. My nose bent to the left. I still had swelling and purple skin under my left eye and on the side of my nose. No one would ever recognize me, no way.
I opened the bathroom door, slowly. Cheryl stood by the bed, her back to me. “Good morning, Cheryl,” I said quietly. Her hair was twisted from the pillow and the restless night she had had. We were alive, but stood in fear.
She turned slowly, gave me a quick smile and said, “Good morning, Sam.”
“I’m hungry. I need to get some food in me.” Cheryl hadn’t moved yet.
“Okay, I need to shower.” She reached up and ran her long fingers through her hair, shook her head and walked leisurely to the bathroom.
We checked out. After screening the streets for cops, I drove to a McDonald’s two blocks away. We went inside and stood in a line ten people deep. We never spoke a word until a Hispanic girl, who looked to be maybe sixteen, asked for our order.
We ate quickly. Every time our eyes met they told the other person how uncertain we were about where we were going and who we could trust. Certainly, the FBI and the CIA could hardly wait till I contacted Robert or David or Jennifer’s parents. I didn’t want to put them in harm’s way. My father had passed away two years ago and my mother resided in a nursing home in Arvada, Colorado. She had Alzheimer’s. I’m glad in a way my dad’s not here and my mom would never be aware of what had happened.
Old Blue ran great while heading West on Interstate 74. We spotted a few State Patrol cars heading in the opposite direction. We were in and out of Indiana before noon, entering the Corn Belt State of Illinois shortly after two.
The miles went by fast. I spotted Intrastate 57 and headed north toward Chicago. We arrived in downtown Chicago at 7:00 p.m. I didn’t know what or why I went to Chicago, but I felt we could hide out better in a larger city.
We checked into another Holiday Inn, with Old Blue left in a parking garage under the hotel. We checked in as Paul and Nancy Spencer from Godfrey, Georgia. I wanted the Georgia license plate to correlate with our address. Our room on the tenth floor overlooked Lake Michigan and had two queen beds. We ordered room service.
Cheryl hadn’t said fifty words all day. She looked out the window at the blue water of Lake Michigan. “Sam, I’m scared.” She turned toward me, her arms folded across her breasts. “What are we going to do? We will have every cop in the United States looking for us.” I thought I spotted a tear trickle down her cheek.
“Cheryl, I wish I had an answer. I need to think about it for a few days.” I walked toward her. She walked toward me and we embraced. I could feel her heart beating against my chest. She trembled and held me tighter. All we had was each other. We couldn’t use a credit card, couldn’t write a check, couldn’t call anyone we knew, and we were running from the FBI and the CIA, not to mention every cop in the United States. We only had a little over six hundred dollars cash between us. Time was running out. Nobody pays cash for a room. I had to use one of my credit cards for security until we checked out, hoping no one looked at the name. Then, I would pay cash the same way I did in Covington, Kentucky.
The food came and we both ate in silence. At 9:00 p.m., we turned the TV on to catch the news on WGN. “We have the latest on SAWWS Inc. and the disappearance of over one-hundred-sixty employees. The FBI has found the bodies of one-hundred-twenty-three men and women buried in a tunnel approximately two hundred feet from the plant. They were buried alive, according to the County Coroner’s Office. Sam Abbott, however, was not found in the mass burial. The FBI believes Mr. Abbott led his employees into the dark tunnel, had poisonous gas explosives set, and used a remote to set them off. An all-world bulletin has been issued, with a twenty-five million dollar reward offered for any information on the whereabouts of Sam Abbott.”
“I bet they’re using my money to put up the reward money for me,” I said, shaking my head.
“It hasn’t been determined yet whether Jennifer Abbott’s body is the body pulled from Oconee Lake two days ago. They were unable to check dental records because all the victim’s teeth were missing.” My supper rose in my throat. “The victim’s body was the same size as Jennifer Abbott’s. All jewelry worn by the victim either had been taken or the victim didn’t wear any.” My heart stood still. “The Abbotts were supposed to depart on a flight to New Zealand the day Sam Abbott’s brother, Randy, was shot in the head.”
“Bastards!” I picked up a pillow from the bed and fired it across the room, striking a floor lamp, smashing the globe and light bulb. Cheryl reached for my arm as I tried to punch my fist into the wall.
“Sam, Sam, you can’t,” Cheryl screamed. I pulled back when the TV announcer said: “David Holloway, the computer genius and the second wealthiest man in the world, who had financed the startup of SAWWS Inc., has made this statement:
‘Ladies and gentleman, I want to convey to you Sam Abbott had nothing to do with the disappearance of his wife and the employees of SAWWS Inc. I’m putting together the best investigators money can buy to find out who is behind this mass murder. Sam Abbott’s life has been in danger for more than nine years. The families of the victims need and want to know how this could have happened.’
“We understand Mr. Holloway will be paying for all burial expenses and will make sure the families of the victims are taken care of.” I threw up my supper.
“Continui
ng, we have additional information on the Herby Woody Saunders case. Mr. Saunders’, the one time Democratic Chairman for the state of Georgia, murderer, Cheryl Hanley, was spotted in Texas. The FBI has gotten a lead that a person fitting her description was seen in Waco, Texas. The reward for Cheryl Hanley has risen to $1,000,000.”
“Sam, what if we go to Canada?” Her eyes were wet and her pupils swelled with fear.
“Cheryl, Canada would extradite us in a heartbeat. We need to get new identifications. You need to, maybe change the color of your hair and the style.” I looked at her and said nothing else.
Several minutes later she looked in the mirror, ran her fingers through her hair and said, “What do you think about auburn and I’ll cut it real short?” She turned around and pulled her hair back with her hands, showing me how it would look short.
“Okay, yeah, auburn will be fine.” I stood up and moved slowly toward the window. “I’m going to try and find someone to give us new identifications. We need credit cards, driver’s licenses, and new social security numbers.”
“Where are you going to get this done and how are you going to get it done?” I turned and saw her lips munched together. The furrows on her forehead grew deeper.
“I’ll find someone on the street. They know where and how to get these things done.” I was guessing. I had seen it in the movies several times and figured it must be true.
Chapter 29
CHICAGO
The next morning, after showering and dressing, I wanted to venture out on the streets of Chicago to seek out someone, anyone, who could give me some information on how to get new identifications. Cheryl was awake and said, “I want to go with you.”
“I really don’t think you should. You should get your hair cut and change the color.” I tried to smile, but my heart wouldn’t allow it.
“Alright, but how long will you be gone?” She showed me her pouted lips.
I shook my head, glanced at my titanium watch and looked out the large window. “I’ll be back by lunchtime.” Maybe I could hock my watch.
The cool breeze off the lake opened my sinuses and my nose began to drip. Every step I took, I saw Jennifer. She was dressed in her lilac robe. My pace picked up. I had to get her out of my mind. Thoughts of her were driving me insane. I spotted a Catholic Church a hundred yards away. “A priest, yes, a priest,” I said out loud. “You can trust a priest. Can’t you?” I looked up into the heavens. My pace picked up. The time was 8:30 a.m.
I entered St. Michael’s Catholic Church. The sanctuary sat empty, except for three nuns kneeling in front of the Virgin Mary. I walked toward the front of the sanctuary and took a seat four rows from the front on the left.
A chill ran down my back when I felt a hand on my shoulder. Afraid to turn around, my heart pounded. Three seconds went by and a deep voice said, “Excuse me, sir, but this is where I pray everyday at this time.”
My heart started up again. I only nodded, not showing him my face. I stood up and moved down the pew. My legs were weak from fright. I sat down, again, and waited. I tried to think of how to tell the priest my problem so he would believe me.
One of the nuns, who had been praying earlier, came up the aisle to my left. I slid quickly towards her. “Excuse me, but I wish to speak to a priest, in private.”
“Okay, confession is this way.” She pointed toward the rear of the sanctuary.
“No, no confession.” I shook my head. “I just want to talk to a priest.”
She looked into my pleading eyes. “Follow me, sir.” She led me into this room covered with oak, except for the off-white painted upper walls and ceiling. The nun motioned for me to have a seat on the right side of the table. The room was small, cold, still, and windowless. There were four chairs and a table that matched the floor and the walls. I waited for what seemed like an hour, checking my watch every few minutes. Had they called the police?
Forty-eight minutes had passed since I had entered this oak room when the large, solid oak door slowly swung open. A man in priestly garb filled the doorway. But, I got this feeling in my gut he wasn’t a priest. The face, the face was not a priest’s face. His face appeared rugged, gnarled, and his eyes looked hard. He was big enough to play offensive tackle for the Minnesota Vikings, with large shoulders and a thick neck. His large hands hung below his robe. His fingernails were clean; hands were unscarred. Well, maybe a priest, or maybe a cop. Adrenaline ripped through my veins.
“Sister Irene said you wanted to talk to a priest. I’m Father O’ Malley.” His voice sounded soft, not hard like his face and body.
I put my sweaty hands on the table and pushed myself up into a standing position. I stood three inches shorter than him. I wanted to bolt for the door, but the table and the priest were in my path. I had neither the strength nor the will to try. I didn’t know where to start or whether I should say anything. My mouth felt dry, like two-week old toast. I looked at the priest and he stared back. His large forearm extended from his robe and gripped my calloused hand. His hand covered mine completely. “Ah-Ah I need someone I can trr-trust.” I wanted those words back in my mouth.
A quick smile lit up his rugged face. “Please, have a seat. What you say to me will never leave this room.” He pulled out a chair and sat his huge body down, laying his enormous arms on the table. The swelling in my chest subsided. I sat down hard in my chair, which made a screeching sound when the chair slid on the oak floor. I hoped I hadn’t scratched the floor.
I looked at his blue eyes, which had softened somewhat and decided I needed to unload.
I told Father O’ Malley everything. He never spoke, except to say, “I’ve read about SAWWS Inc. in the paper.”
After I drained my head and heart of all the stored up hate, frustration, and misfortune, I slumped back in my chair and stared at my hands lying on the table. “Father, I need a drink of water.” My words came out a little stronger than a whisper.
His right hand went under the table; my eyes were glued to that arm. What—A gun? A tape recorder? His hand came back up momentarily before he spoke. “Mr. Abbott, you have come to me today to tell me about your anguish, loss and concern for your life. Mr. Holloway has shown his belief in you.” He paused several seconds. “I believe what you have told me here this morning. I have some friends you can trust who will help you.”
“Father, I-I need different identification and credit cards so I can survive until I can get my name cleared. I have less than $500.00. The people” I wasn’t sure. “Only God knows who took all my money.”
“My friends will help you.” The door opened and Sister Irene stood there. “Sister, please bring a pitcher of water, two glasses, paper and a pen.” My heart rate slowed down when I realized he had pushed a button under the table.
“Yes, Father.” She quietly shut the door behind her.
“Are you Catholic, Mr. Abbott?”
I shook my head and said, “No, Father O’Malley.” My eyes dropped.
“I take it you’re a Christian then?” His blue eyes squinted.
“Ah, yes, Father. I was baptized in a Presbyterian Church.”
Sister Irene knocked on the large door and Father O’Malley took a silver tray with two glasses and a pitcher of water with his right hand and set it on the table. In his left hand, he had a note pad and pen. He poured a full glass of water and handed it to me. He then poured another glass and sat down with pad and pen in front of him.
“Mr. Abbott, what kind of car are you driving?”
“I have an old blue Impala. I bought it off a lady in Georgia. It runs great.” I had just drunk a half glass of water.
“Is the car at the hotel? If so, I’ll have someone tow it away. I will see to it that you get another car.”
“Yes, but I only have $500.00 dollars.” He never looked at me.
“You are traveling alone, I take it?” His big, pale, blue eyes peered above his reading glasses.
“Ah. No sir. I mean Father.” His eyes squinted. He laid his pen do
wn and folded his arms across his large chest.
“Do you wish to tell me about your traveling companion, or is there more than one?” His eyes were glued to mine.
I told him the whole story about Cheryl. His arms remained folded the entire time. His eyes never left mine. I’m not sure they ever even blinked. After I had finished, he unfolded his arms and laid them on the table. He then put his hands together in front of his head, with elbows on the table, and bent his head. I believed he was praying for me and Cheryl, or maybe for himself. I wasn’t sure, but my stomach met my throat and I reached for the half-full glass of water, gulping the rest of it down.
“Mr. Abbott, you are in great danger and, now, you have a companion who is wanted for murder, even though you believe she had to kill someone in order to survive.” He rubbed his large hands together. “I understand your concern for the young lady, but this presents an even greater danger for you.”
I nodded, but never spoke.
He rose from his chair. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I need to make a few phone calls.” He stared at me for what seemed like a minute, then continued, “Mr. Abbott, why don’t you go into the sanctuary and kneel down and pray. I will meet you back here in thirty minutes.” He checked his watch and I looked at mine.
“Yes, Father. Father, you must trust us. We have no one we can turn to.” I knew I was begging, but I felt better saying it.
Chapter 30
NEW IDENTITIES
Before leaving, I looked up at Father O’Malley and said, “Father O’Malley, I need a big favor.” His eyes narrowed. “Father, would you please try and contact Mr. Holloway and let him know I am okay.”
