Just past the Dan Ryan Expressway, Lazarus took a right into the Chicago Carpenters Training center, parking the BMW in the back of the lot. Lazarus and his look-out walked across 21st Street where a car was parked. They climbed into the non-descript Honda Accord, left earlier that day, and headed to the McCormick Place Hyatt Regency.
Chapter Four
May 1, 2016
It was a beautiful May morning on the Texas Gulf Coast. The temperature hovered around 65°, with a cool northeasterly breeze coming off Aransas Bay. Brown pelicans glided past in their familiar fighter formation, skimming the surface of the bay, their wingtips occasionally clipping the calm waters. Five magnificent frigates hung in the air like kites as they rode the sea breeze, harbingers of an impending weather front. The eastern horizon was tinted reddish orange as the sun began to make its way above the water.
Lazarus sat in his green Land Rover on a turnout at the end of Bayview drive, a half-forgotten Gurkha Beauty smoldering in his left hand. He was watching a small pod of bottle nose dolphins making their way north. Judging by the size of the dorsal fins, he guessed there were at least two juveniles. Lazarus savored the sense of serenity the waters brought him.
Watching the sunrise from the turnout had become an almost daily ritual for him since taking up residence in Rockport in mid-April. He could only remember a handful of times he found the turnout occupied. Usually it was tourists enjoying the view, with the occasional young couple making out. It didn’t bother him. Lazarus would drive down Blue Marlin to the cul-de-sac, despite the large “Private Drive” entrance, to watch the sunrise.
He climbed out of the truck and walked out on the sea wall that jutted into the bay. Lazarus was 6’2” and 210 pounds. His light brown hair bleached almost blond in the summer was naturally wavy. He wore it swept back and long, extending well past his shirt collar. Lazarus was smooth shaven, though he sometimes went 3 to 4 days without touching a razor. His eyes were hazel, flecks of gold and green dappled throughout. Lazarus’ nose had been broken three times and never cosmetically corrected, which left a slight bump on the ridge. Other than his above average height, there wasn’t anything particularly distinguishing to set him apart from the crowd, one of the reasons he was so good at his chosen craft.
Lazarus Solaris was a specialist, successfully living a double life for almost two decades. He was a contract killer, a very expensive one. Unknown to his criminal clientele, he occasionally did jobs for the CIA as well. His ability to come and go virtually unnoticed had earned him the nickname “The Chameleon”. None of his clients knew Lazarus by name. He never met face to face with anyone unless in disguise, presenting himself as an intermediary for business purposes. Lazarus was effective at plying his craft. After almost 20 years not one law enforcement agency had connected his victims. The fact he occasionally contracted for the CIA went a long way in making sure those connections would most likely never be made. All but two of Lazarus’ victims were considered missing persons. He’d only left two bodies behind, sending a clear message that the murders were retributions.
One target was a strip club owner in New Orleans, Jacques Le Clair, found dead in his office with six kilos of uncut cocaine and $250K in cash on the desk. That left no doubt to the New Orleans PD or the FBI, it was mob related. The owner had strong ties to New Jersey, and Lazarus had information ‘leaked’ that Le Clair was skimming from the bosses. He had been skimming, which was the reason the drugs and money were left behind. There was to be no misunderstandings as to why Le Claire was killed.
The other was a New York stock broker by the name of Judson Harwell. He’d organized a Ponzi scheme that bilked millions from unsuspecting clients, most of them elderly. Lazarus killed Harwell in his high-rise apartment and left him lying on the kitchen floor. Harwell’s maid found him the next day, shot three times at close range by a .22 caliber. There were no casings, so either the killer picked up his brass, or used a revolver. There was no forensic evidence to be found: prints, hairs or fibers.
The security cameras caught what appeared to be a man in his 60’s or early 70’s, riding up the elevator and picking the lock on Harwell’s apartment. He came out three minutes later, going back down the same way. They never got a clear look at his face. The old man was wearing a Yankees cap pulled down to his ears and wearing sunglasses. He also seemed to know where all the cameras were located, never looking directly at one. The gray hair and stooped way he walked led them to believe he was older, but there was no way of knowing for certain.
The FBI investigation located the money, except for five hundred thousand dollars, in offshore accounts. They had Katsumi, Lazarus’ assistant to thank for that, but didn’t know it. She’d left electronic bread crumbs for the forensics accountant who eventually tracked down the funds. With well over a thousand unhappy suspects, many of them over 60, and no sympathy for the victim, the case ended up in the cold file. It was a major coup for the FBI, recovering so much of the money. They made headlines of good will when they returned the funds to the investors. There was a little over 3.5 million dollars left when all was said and done. The government kept it. As far as the Director was concerned, it was a major win-win.
The missing $500K ended up in one of Lazarus’ accounts. Just because he had taken Harwell without a contract didn’t mean that someone wasn’t going to pay the fee. Lazarus loved the irony of the victim paying with his own money.
*****
Lazarus was a well-known philanthropist in what he referred to as, “The real world”. He was founder and director of the Second Chance Foundation, a charitable organization based in Miami. The Foundation was known primarily for its scholarships. Hundreds of young men and women, as well as convicted felons, had benefited from the program.
The vetting process was thorough. If you made it through the preliminary interviews with the board, the next step was to sit down for a face to face with Lazarus, who generally made the final call. Occasionally, Lazarus would meet with a potential recipient himself and have the board make the decision. It was at his discretion, although he rarely used it. Many a life had been changed for the better. It was Lazarus’ proudest achievement.
*****
The identity he would use for this job was Cooper Johnson, one of his favorite personas. Lazarus used the Johnson alias often. It was to date, air tight. Lazarus had 13 more identities he had not used publicly, and 12 for relocating clients if the need arose. He’d use them if it became necessary to keep a client safe from retaliation.
Each identity had a birth certificate, driver’s license and passport. They all had jobs, “working” for one of the many companies Lazarus owned. They filed taxes and voted in an occasional election. He had private mailboxes registered in their names. Three of the identities had physical addresses. Those were the locations of his safe house One in Des Moines, Iowa, one in Austin, Texas and the third in Schaumburg, Illinois, a suburb of Chicago. His primary residence on Duck Key was registered in his own name. It was from there that Lazarus managed his foundation and interacted with the rest of society. He shared the residence with a young lady named Katsumi Tanaka. Katsumi was a very skilled computer tech who lived in an apartment above the garage. If everything went well, Lazarus planned on retiring to the Keys in 10 years or so, that was of course, provided he didn’t get caught or killed in the meantime.
Lazarus spoke regularly with Katsumi when traveling. She handled background checks, screened potential clients and provided computer services he couldn’t acquire through “normal” channels. He enjoyed his weekly and sometimes daily chats. If anyone ever picked up on an encrypted conversation, it sounded like nothing more than a father calling his daughter.
When the initial background check on a prospective client was completed, Lazarus would move to the area for a closer look. This gave him the opportunity to familiarize himself with the location if it was new to him, and the habits of the potential target. It allowed time to establish his cover and develop options for the contract. Lazaru
s would also make plans for disposal and map out a quick egress in case something went sideways.
Lazarus had been in Rockport since the 16th of April. It hadn’t been easy, but he was finally able to lease a house on Key Allegro at the end of Cayman Drive. The house had a clear view from the back deck of the client’s home across Little Bay on Barbados Point.
Lazarus made several trips to Corpus Christi following the potential client; familiarizing himself with his routines. Lazarus located the condo listed on his “application” where the client would sometimes spend a night or two there with a woman who had to be his mistress. Lazarus checked the woman out and found nothing pertinent. She was just what she appeared to be, a sales agent for Water Street Realty having an affair with a married man.
*****
Lazarus drove whenever possible when traveling in the states for two main reasons. First, he didn’t want his name on a flight manifest, and second, he could use cash when traveling by car. For the trip to Rockport, he was using a fully restored 1993 Range Rover Defender 110. Lazarus purchased it at auction in Denver and had it shipped to Austin, Texas. There it underwent a complete restoration, with some very special modifications. None of the changes were visible to the casual observer. Storage compartments had been added under the truck, conforming to the natural flow of the frame.
The unit he purchased came with the expedition roof rack and rear access ladder. Lazarus had it painted Aintree Green metallic, the color of the 110 in a BBC Sherlock Holmes episode “The Hounds of the Baskervilles”. That appealed to him, being a big fan of the series. The Rover he purchased was a British model, with the steering wheel on the right. It could be somewhat conspicuous, but that wouldn’t be a problem in Rockport. Lazarus had one of his employees deliver a 2014 white Ford Expedition to a storage facility near the local Walmart. He would use the Expedition for all contact with the client.
Another advantage of driving, the main one; Lazarus could travel with his almost constant companion and body guard, Langston Van Schäfer. Langston was a pure-bred German shepherd, trained by a team of professionals as both guard and attack dog. Langston was pure black, not a speck of white or tan to be found – with emerald green eyes.
If you spent much time around Langston, you’d never suspect he was an attack dog. He was sociable with other dogs and most people, too. The only times Langston was truly dangerous was when Lazarus was threatened or given an attack command. Occasionally, Langston would go on guard without command. Lazarus’ accepted it as natural instinct and heeded it. Usually, it was a result of Langston sensing something in an individual, or as a reaction to stress he sensed in his master. Even then, Langston wouldn’t attack without a direct command. He would strike on his own only if Lazarus was physically attacked. If that were to happen nothing short of death would stop him until he had neutralized the threat. To Langston, “neutralized” meant dead, and he killed as dispassionately as his master.
******
Lazarus was in Rockport to meet with Enrique Garza, president of Gulf Coast Bank and Trust, a strong presence in South Texas with 10 locations stretching from San Antonio to Brownsville. Garza had started as a teller in the McAllen branch in 1974. He was transferred to San Antonio in 1975 where Enrique went to night school. He earned a degree in accounting with a minor in business at UTSA in 1982. Enrique worked hard, getting to know the right people. He was promoted to Kingsville branch manager in 1984. In 1996 at the age of 42, he was selected by the board to replace the retiring bank president. Garza was the youngest president in the history of Gulf Coast Bank and Trust, as well as the first Hispanic to hold the position.
At the time he took over, Garza, at 5’7” and 155 pounds was in excellent shape. He trained regularly and could be intimidating when he wanted, having done quite well as a boxer in his teens. Garza was light skinned, even though his heritage was 100% native Mexican, one of the factors that went into his selection for the job. It was Texas after all, and even with a large Hispanic population, prejudice ran deep.
Enrique had black hair and eyes so brown they looked like dark chocolate. His family tree traced back to the Mayan empire, one of his ancestors a high priest. Raised Catholic, he had long ago stopped attending mass on a regular basis. Garza made up for it (or more accurately, made the effort to ease his guilt) by making donations to the Corpus Christi Diocese and other Catholic charities. He occasionally celebrated the Holy Days, usually by lighting candles to the Virgin Mary, attending Mass only on Christmas and Easter.
Enrique had a secret that would have prevented him from ever becoming president of the bank. Neither the retiring president nor anyone on the board knew anything about it. Enrique Garza was half-brother to Ramon Torano, head of the largest drug cartel in Mexico, “Los Zapatos de la Muerte”; The Shoes of Death. Ramon was referred to as ‘El Corazon’, The Heart, because of his reputation for carving the still beating heart from his enemies. Enrique began laundering money for his brother in 1997 through a series of shell corporations, and together they prospered.
Chapter Five
Lazarus was born in northeast Iowa, starting life on a farm near Anamosa. He was the only child of Jared and Margaux Solaris. By the time Lazarus entered the world, they were farming nearly 2000 acres off Ridge Road on the Wapsipinicon River. Two thousand acres was a lot for a family farm in 1973. Jared started with 300 acres he purchased in 1948 when they immigrated to America. He increased his acreage by buying out surrounding farms over the next 25 years.
Jared rarely spoke about the war and never about where he got the funds to purchase the land. He was a private man who developed only one true friendship, the manager of the local farm supply store, Bryan Rasmussen. Over the years Jared came to trust Bryan. He was the only person that knew the entire story of Jared and Margaux and Bryan never shared it with anyone, not even his wife, much to her frustration.
*****
Jared and Margaux were Polish by birth, born and raised in Warsaw. Margaux was Jewish, named Myira at birth. She was the eldest child of Avraham and Chava Soloveitchik. Avraham was a jeweler and diamond merchant, one of the most successful in Warsaw. His quality was renowned, and his personal creations highly sought after. He had clients in France, England, Austria, Germany and Switzerland, as well as Poland.
Jared was born Jurek Kowalczyk, 8 years before Myira in 1917. He was orphaned at the age of 12 when his parents died in a fire. Avraham hired Jurek at the age of 13, having known his parents well. He put him to work cleaning the store and helping Chava around the house.
Avraham decided to make Jurek his apprentice on his 16th birthday. It was practically unheard of for a Jewish jeweler to select a Gentile apprentice, but Avraham saw something in the young man. Jurek proved to be an excellent choice. He had an eye for detail and a very creative imagination. By the age of 21, Jurek had begun to develop a clientele of his own much to the delight of Avraham, giving him more time to focus on the diamond trade.
Then came the invasion of Poland by the Nazis on September 1st, 1939. Within weeks the Polish army was defeated, and the nightmare began for the Jewish population. In 1940, as the Nazis began herding the Jews into Ghettos, Avraham decided over the objections of his wife and leaders of the Jewish community. He called Jurek into his office and asked him to take Myira, with all the uncut diamonds and leave Poland for France. Avraham was patient, as Jurek was loath to leave the man he had come to think of as a father. It took some convincing, but in the end Jurek agreed.
Myira was much more difficult to convince. She didn’t understand why she had to leave her parents when her sister Ziva would be staying. If it was so dangerous, why weren’t they all leaving? It took Avraham days to make Myira believe it was only temporary. The reason he gave for Ziva not going was that at only 11, she wouldn’t be able to make such a difficult journey on foot. Avraham lied, promising they would be joining them in a few months. He knew in his heart it would never happen, but he needed Myira to believe him. Avraham didn’t want his entire family lost
. Myira finally relented, agreeing to leave with Jurek.
Avraham had French papers made for them in the names of Jared and Margaux Solaris, brother and sister. On June 6, 1940, one day after Myira’s 15th birthday, Jurek led them out of the city under the cover of darkness. It would take almost three months to arrive in Chateaurenard in the south of France. Jurek, as Jared, joined the French underground shortly after their arrival. The French fighters spoke highly of his courage and willingness to take on the most dangerous tasks. Jared barely avoided capture three times.
Myira sadly adapted to the name Margaux. She stayed in Chateaurenard – working for a local baker. After a year had passed, though it broke her heart, she came to terms with the fact she might never see her family again. There were too many stories trickling out of Poland about concentration camps and the growing persecution of the Jews. It left her with little if any hope.
*****
After the war ended, Jurek and Myira returned to Poland. They searched for her parents for the better part of a year, to no avail. They eventually located Ziva in Warsaw. She’d survived the Gross-Rosen camp in Poland, serving as the camp commandant’s maid and cook. Ziva had refused to give up hope, despite the repeated beatings and rape she endured at the hands of the sadistic German commandant.
Their reunion was bittersweet. Ziva had to tell Myira that their parents had been taken to Auschwitz in 1941. Their names were found among the millions of Jews, Gypsies and other undesirables that the Nazis killed over the course of WWII. It took little persuasion on the part of Jurek and Myira to convince Ziva to return with them to France. Back in Chateaurenard, they returned to using the names Jared and Margaux Solaris. Ziva kept the name Soloveitchik.
Evolution of a Killer Page 3
