by Ty Patterson
That particular hold and the nerve point rendered a man unconscious, but he invariably woke up not knowing what happened. Most people never mentioned such incidents out of fear of embarrassment. It was human nature. The killer was counting on the guard being most people.
The killer dragged the man away from the hallway, propped him against a wall and headed to the prayer room.
He figured he had fifteen minutes. Enough time. He picked the prayer room lock, shut the door behind him, and spotted the royal immediately. The king’s cousin was on his knees, his head bowed.
The royal sensed the killer’s presence and started turning his head but before he could complete his move, the assassin was on him.
One hand moved to apply a familiar hold, another went across the royal’s mouth, and the killer squeezed.
The royal thrashed, but the killer’s body was deceptively strong, his hold didn’t loosen.
The hold required just the right amount of pressure in just the right spot. The killer had practiced the hold on several men fitter and stronger than the royal. All of them had died, not one death had been considered suspicious.
The royal’s thrashing slowed, but the killer didn’t ease his grip. The target’s legs became flaccid and still the killer held him up.
It was only when the royal’s body had stopped moving and his breath had paused forever, that the killer laid him down carefully and arranged the body. He wiped the man’s face, cleaned him up, stepped back and surveyed the scene.
He nodded once. Perfect.
He unlocked the door and peered out. The hallway was empty. He knew it wouldn’t be for long. The unconscious guard would awaken soon. The other guards would return.
He made his way to the laundry room, selected a bale at the back, ripped it open, made room for himself by crushing the linen and folded himself inside.
He removed a special sticky tape and closed the rip from inside. A casual glance wouldn’t reveal the rip from outside. A closer glance wouldn’t matter since by then the killer would have lost the game.
He stayed in the laundry room for the rest of the night, heard the sudden shouting as the body was discovered, heard the sudden hustle in the palace as the entire dynamics of the royal family changed.
He tuned himself out and went into his dreamless state again.
The next day the laundry was hustled into the truck and transported out of the palace.
Late that evening Mohammed Rauf came to the palace and sat in silence along with the royal’s wife and shared in her grief.
He bowed to her as he was leaving; paid his respects to the family members he knew and once he left the royal palace, disappeared from Saudi Arabia.
He allowed himself small smile hours later, when he was in a private jet.
There were a few killers like him, but he was sure none of them were as good as he was.
Chapter 6
Zeb spent a week on the eastern slopes, enjoyed the glorious sunrises and sunsets and one evening, made unexpected contact with the bear.
He knew she was around, he could sense her, however he hadn’t come across her trail, or that of her cubs. He hiked down the slope, wanting to reach a clearing he had seen the previous time where he would make his camp.
He moved soundlessly, his body flowing through foliage as if it were water over rocks.
He heard the grunt first and then the black shape thrust out of a dense bush and mama bear glared at him from ten feet away. She was taller than him by half a foot and looked as if she weighed well over hundred and fifty pounds. She growled at him, blew repeatedly and then charged straight at him.
Zeb stood motionless, looked mama bear straight in the eye, a part of his mind admiring the black shape of fury hurtling toward him.
Mama bear broke off just as she reached him and circled him. She sniffed him, circled him again and headed back to the bush without a second glance. Her cubs tumbled out of the bush as she neared and jumped at her. One of the cubs looked back at Zeb and then trotted behind mama and disappeared in the bush.
Zeb stood motionless for a full minute, but the bear didn’t emerge. He resumed his descent and thrust his palms out. They were steady.
He made camp, boiled water and when he lay down to sleep later, under the canopy of stars, the image that he had tried his best to avoid, came back.
It was the dead woman’s sightless eyes, her face twisted in fear.
I can’t get involved in all such incidents.
The image didn’t disappear, the sightless eyes didn’t close.
Frustrated, Zeb turned over, boxed his sleeping bag in shape.
Just as he was drifting into oblivion, the woman’s eyes appeared, but this time they were a deep blue in which he could drown. Had drowned, many years back.
Zeb headed to Pinedale the next day.
Jim Knowle was brewing a pot of coffee when he reached the sheriff’s office. He raised his eyebrows in astonishment, wordlessly grabbed a second mug, filled it, and thrust it at Zeb.
‘What gives, Zeb? Haven’t you had enough of my town? I thought you’d be deep in the range by now.’
Zeb closed his eyes for a second, enjoying the steaming brew sinking through him. ‘I was, now I’m here.’
Knowle frowned in mock anger. ‘You made me lose fifty dollars.’ His frown turned to a grin when he saw Zeb’s face. ‘Kelly and I had a bet. He said you would be back. He said you would want to know what was happening.’
Zeb raised his hands in surrender. ‘What is happening? Any progress?’
The sheriff’s good humor left him and he growled. ‘Rogers is more clued in than I am, but what I heard is the investigation is going nowhere. This part of the country, we don’t have security cameras, heck, we don’t even have red lights.’
Zeb waited, knowing there was more coming.
‘Rogers queried her prints and her DNA and came back with a big fat zero. The woman is in no database. He searched missing person reports. There wasn’t a single match.’
His fingers whitened on the file. ‘We got Jane Doe on our hands and no one is in any hurry to claim her.’
Zeb heard the same message from Rogers who was initially stilted in his responses but opened up when he realized Zeb was merely inquiring and not judging his investigation.
‘Not the kind of progress you were expecting?’ Knowle asked him when Zeb put away his phone. ‘We are stumped too. We didn’t think we would crack this open in a couple of days, but surely someone somewhere would have noticed a woman missing and raised all kinds of hell.’
The sheriff slammed the file in a corner and looked up angrily when a deputy poked his head and thrust a pad at him. The sheriff scrawled his signature and when the deputy disappeared, Knowle had controlled himself.
‘She was in good shape for her age, wasn’t she? Toned legs, manicured feet. This was a woman who took care of herself, one who could afford to. Such women are noticed, the alarm when they go missing, is raised quickly.’ Zeb mused.
Knowle narrowed his eyes. ‘What are you getting at? That – ’
‘She could be someone living off the grid.’ Zeb completed his sentence. ‘However, I don’t think that’s what happened here. I think she was a woman who lived alone and whoever killed her made sure she wouldn’t be easily identified.’
Knowle’s chair squeaked as he fidgeted uneasily. ‘Heck Zeb, that takes a helluva lot of clout and reach.’
Zeb rose and the sheriff accompanied him to the exit. ‘Yeah.’ He shook hands with Knowle and as he was heading to Main Street, the sheriff called out.
‘What will you do now?’
Zeb swiveled back and for a fleeting moment the mask fell away from his face. ‘I’ll find them.’
Knowle, watching him, was reminded of Kelly’s words. ‘He has this urge in him; his friends say he suffers from a Batman syndrome. He won’t rest, he won’t stop, and he won’t give up.’ Kelly had chuckled and lightened the mood. ‘Tell your Ranger to get off his behind and crac
k this open. Once Zeb gets involved, it usually turns bloody.’
Zeb headed back to Pete’s and when he was finishing his coffee, the man approached him and frowned.
‘I thought I recognized you.’
Zeb smiled easily. ‘Blame your food. It’s what drew me back.’ He looked questioningly when Pete didn’t move.
‘Those men are back, they came here yesterday night. I want no trouble at my place.’
‘You won’t have any.’ Zeb paid his bill and patted the man’s shoulder.
He headed to the motel, smiled at the woman behind the desk. ‘Bill Frayne and his buddies are still here aren’t they?’
Small town. There’s a good chance such establishments will be less formal.
She looked down, back at him and smiled in return. ‘Yes, Sir. Mr. Frayne is in Room 401. You can call him from a house phone in that corner.’ She gestured at a bank of phones.
Zeb nodded in thanks, headed to the phones and when she turned away, slipped up the staircase.
Room 401 was in the middle of the hallway which was deserted. Sounds came through the wooden door, a TV, someone whistling. Zeb inspected the lock, one of those that required a plastic card.
No plastic card. The twins or Broker aren’t with me to make one up.
He knocked on the door. The whistling stopped, a shadow moved under the door and it swung open to reveal Nervous, Jake Wyndham.
His eyes widened and he thrust it shut.
Zeb slammed the door back, ignored the man’s shout as he stumbled and forced his way inside. His practiced eyes moved swiftly.
Tiny hallway, bathroom which is empty, bed, Wyndham by the door, Brown hair- Bill Frayne, on bed, Black hair – Paul Coomers, on chair. Both watching TV.
Wyndham yelled and grabbed Zeb by the waist and rammed him against the wall. ‘He’s back,’ he shouted at his friends.
Zeb yelled over him, not resisting, ‘Wait up. I’m just – ’
He broke off in a gasp as Wyndham’s fist sank deep in him. Coomers came hurtling and joined the fray.
Zeb moved his head just in time as Coomers’ fist sailed past, couldn’t move fast enough as a second fist met his neck. All the while Wyndham was pounding him against the wall.
Can’t hurt them.
He gritted his teeth, freed a hand and slapped away another blow. His knee went up and caught Wyndham on his thigh and the grip around his waist slackened.
‘Grab the door, shove him out,’ Coomers panted at Frayne who tried to squeeze past them.
Zeb had enough when a flying palm caught him on the side of his head.
His hand blurred in a chop and Wyndham sagged. The hand rose, caught Coomers’ wrist, rolled it in a lock and the man screamed. Zeb pulled and shoved the man as a projectile at Frayne. He twisted away as the men cannoned against each other and sprawled on top of Wyndham.
He moved into the room, dabbed at a split lip and straightened his clothes. Luckily, these guys are amateurs.
‘I’m here to talk. Just talk.’ He said evenly as Frayne staggered to his feet, looked wildly at him and then hauled his buddies up. Zeb moved further back and leaned against the window.
Passive. Non-threatening gestures. These guys are more scared than angry.
‘You guys okay? Any injuries?’
Frayne looked at his pals, turned back and shook his head. ‘What do you want? We told you all that we know.’
‘I want more.’ He held up a palm in a placating gesture. ‘Hear me out.’
He told them about the investigation, about its reaching a dead end. ‘You folks are the only ones who might have something. That guy didn’t pick me out from random. He wanted me out of town since I’m the one who brought in the body. Maybe he didn’t want me to hang around.’
Zeb watched them tidy themselves, helped himself to a glass of water and once they were seated, asked them. ‘Why did he pick on you guys? The bar was crowded and I am told there were quite a few young, out-of-town guys. Why you?’
The three exchanged glances, Paul nodded at Bill who replied. ‘We thought about this and we figure he overheard us. We had a two-hour drive behind us and probably had a few drinks too many.’ He looked away sheepishly. ‘He probably heard us griping about not having a job, short of money.’
‘Let me guess. Next thing you know he’s sharing his own down-at-heel stories and the drinks start flowing and the pranks come up?’
Paul nodded. ‘We aren’t normally like that, Mr. Carter. We don’t pick on people. The way he described it, it was just harmless fun. And we could do with the money.’
Zeb nodded in acceptance. ‘Do you remember anything more of him?’
He frowned. ‘He was as tall as you, clean shaven, blond, probably the same age as you.’ He looked at the other two questioningly. ‘Green eyes?’
‘Yeah,’ Jake confirmed. ‘He said he was Steve Morrow, a lawyer from Los Angeles. We had a good laugh at that. A lawyer playing such pranks.’
‘You said he was going to pay your hotel bills. Where was he going to meet you?
‘Here. However, we didn’t see him. We returned soon after our…encounter with you,’ he laughed, ‘and checked out quickly and headed out of town. We didn’t see him, but we weren’t looking hard.’
Paul spoke suddenly. ‘I asked the lady downstairs and she said he checked out that same evening.’
‘He had toughness about him,’ Bill said reflectively. He looked Zeb over, ‘a bit like you, Mr. Carter. You looked in his eyes and you knew how far you could push him.’
Paul shouted suddenly, ‘I got his plates.’ He turned to the two excitedly. ‘You remember, I hauled off to get our bags? He was there; he was getting his stuff too. His car was next to ours, it was a Toyota. I remember the plate because the numbers were in a sequence.’ He recited a number, repeated it again when he saw Zeb noting it down.
He slapped a palm against his thigh. ‘But the funny thing is there was another plate in the trunk. It struck me as odd, but I didn’t ask him.’
He recited another number and beamed when Zeb thanked him.
‘Say, why are you interested in this?’ Frayne looked at him, an undercurrent of suspicion in his voice. ‘The cops should be the ones asking all these questions.’
‘And you should go to the sheriff with these details.’ Zeb told him. ‘I’m just curious. I am the one who found the body and feel sort of obliged. I know it’s stupid, but there it is.’ He met the man’s look and saw his doubts fade. ‘Besides, don’t forget Morrow singled me out.’
No point in going into who I am. It’ll muddy the waters.
They spoke for a few more minutes, but no new nuggets emerged and Zeb left them after they promised to meet the sheriff. Zeb had hoped that one of them would have captured Morrow on his cell phone, but they hadn’t. There had been no reason.
He left via the stairs and slowed down once he reached the sidewalk.
Mystery man - man in the car park, sounded older, more polished than Morrow. Morrow’s boss? The man behind all this?
Possible but not probable. Men behind these kinds of incidents don’t get involved. More likely mystery man was Morrow’s boss and orchestrated the killing.
Decision time. Do I call the twins and get them to check out Morrow? Should I get his details from Rogers and Knowle?
He grinned as he fired up his sat phone. It was no contest.
Beth and Meghan Petersen were playing pool with Broker and Roger in their Columbus Avenue office in New York, which bore the name of a security consulting firm, their cover.
The firm was genuine and they had active clients but, increasingly, Agency missions took up most of their time. Broker ran his information business from the same premises and that too had clients the world over.
The office had three other occupants. A petite woman who sat on a couch with a bearded giant, Chloe and Bear, and an ebony-colored mountain of a man who lounged on another couch, Bwana.
Bear and Bwana were the tallest of them all,
both of them six feet four inches, all muscle and sinew. The two were also members of Mensa, a fact that not many knew.
The office was decorated by the twins and their free spirit came through in every accessory. There were very few desks on which computers hummed, the rest of the office had multi-colored couches strewn randomly. Baseball mitts and bats lined the walls; a basketball hoop was nailed at one end. A small putting strip was laid by the wall-to-ceiling mirrored windows. The glass was bulletproof and the entire building could withstand an F5 tornado.
Roger whooped as he sank another ball and moved aside for Broker to line up for his shot. As he sharpened his cue stick, he glanced around and grinned. They were enjoying a rare bit of downtime. As Bwana had eloquently put it, all those who needed killing quickly had been dealt with. The others hadn’t become annoying enough.
‘Heard lately from the Wise One?’ He drawled at Meghan, using the twins’ nick name for Zeb.
‘Nope,’ her brown hair flew silkily as she shook her head. ‘We exchanged texts about ten days back when he discovered that body. No peep from him since then.’
‘How’s that going? Did they identify the body?’ Bwana called out.
‘Nah. Beth and I are watching that case. She’s still Jane Doe.’
Broker frowned. ‘So where’s Zeb?’
‘He was in the mountains yesterday. Haven’t checked today.’ Beth bent to take her shot when the phone rang.
Meghan picked it up, mouthed, it’s Zeb, and turned it on speaker. ‘Hi, Zeb, we were just talking about you.’
Zeb’s voice came over a pause. ‘Can you trace a number for me?’
Broker snorted before she could reply. ‘Of course she could. That’s what Werner’s here for.’ He paused. ‘We are getting worried; you’ve been too quiet for our liking. Killed anyone lately?’
‘Nope.’
Bwana’s brow furrowed. ‘You feeling okay, Zeb? That’s not like you at all.’
‘Betcha he’s annoyed someone though,’ Bear called out. ‘Haven’t you, Zeb?’
