The Fugitive's Trail

by J. C. Fields

  Kozlov walked up behind her, pointed the Ruger at the back of her head, and pulled the trigger.

  ***

  Kruger parked the Mustang behind an unmarked police car and got out. Joseph exited the vehicle on the other side, both of their faces grim. They ducked under the yellow crime-scene tape and showed their IDs. Joseph produced an ID from the CIA, which Kruger frowned at but didn’t question. They were escorted into the residence as crime-scene investigators scurried from one room to the other. A plainclothes detective walked up to them, offered his hand, and introduced himself. “I’m Lieutenant Dick Childress. I was told you two were coming.”

  “Sean Kruger, FBI,” he said, shaking his hand. “This is Charlie Rose, CIA.”

  Detective Childress stared at Joseph. “I didn’t think the CIA could operate inside the US.”

  Before Joseph could comment, Kruger said, “Mr. Rose is here as an advisor. He’s dealt with the suspect before and has certain insights.” Joseph smiled and Kruger continued, “Can you tell us what happened?”

  Childress nodded and started walking toward hall. He said, “Early this morning the Brewers’ nurse arrived for her weekly visit.” He pointed to a body lying in the doorway of a bedroom in the back of the house. “My guess is she never knew what happened. She was shot from behind with what looks like a twenty-two.”

  Walking back up the hall toward the front of the house, Childress opened the door to another bedroom and pointed at a recliner next to the window. “We think he sat in the chair and watched the police go door to door last night. If the nurse went straight to the back bedroom, she probably didn’t realize he was here.”

  Kruger nodded. “Where are the Brewers?”

  Childress frowned and motioned for them to follow him. He opened the door to the garage and pointed at the car. Several men dressed in white lab suits were preparing to extract two bodies. Kruger breathed through his mouth; the stench of death overpowering in the small garage. He looked at Joseph, who just stood there, breathing normally.

  Childress said, “Cindy Brewer was shot in the forehead from close range, powder burns next to the bullet’s entrance. We found stains on the front room carpet; she was probably shot as she opened the front door. Her husband was shot in the back bedroom. We think he was turning toward the door when he was shot by the intruder.”

  Joseph said, “How long was Kozlov here?”

  “The ME puts the time of death at about an hour to an hour and a half after the accident on University. He was here overnight. The nurse wasn’t scheduled to be here until eight this morning. Her car’s missing.”

  Kruger turned and walked back to the living room. He looked around the room, took a deep breath, and said to Childress, “Please tell me Mr. Brewer didn’t own any guns.”

  Childress’s lips pressed together and he looked toward the bedroom. “Wish I could. Mr. Brewer registered two shotguns: two AR fifteens and two nineteen elevens. We found the shotguns. The others are missing and we have no idea how much ammunition was taken.”

  Kruger nodded. “Walk with us, lieutenant.” They walked out of the house and into the tree-shaded yard. Kruger turned to Childress. “Do you want me to bring in the bureau on this?”

  Childress stared at Kruger, nodded. “The chief of police called me just before you arrived. He would prefer a joint task force, if possible.”

  Kruger smiled. “The SAC in Kansas City is an old friend of mine. He’s a good man and won’t step on anybody’s toes. Tell your chief you’ll get help.”

  The radio attached to Childress’s belt came to life as a female voice said, “Multiple shots fired at five one six south Jefferson. Code three. SWAT has been alerted.”

  Childress grabbed his radio. “Repeat address.” The dispatcher repeated it. “Damn, this town’s going crazy. I’ll talk to you two later.” He walked off and started pulling officers aside and sending them to their patrol cars.

  Joseph grabbed Kruger by the arm and pulled him toward the Mustang. As they walked, he said, “Five one six south Jefferson is JR’s address.”

  Kruger looked at Joseph, his eyebrows raised in understanding. They both started running toward the Mustang.

  ***

  Kozlov stood behind a multicar garage thirty yards southeast of the parking-lot entrance to JR’s apartment. He was dressed in scuffed work boots, baggy khaki Dockers, an old plaid shirt, a faded brown boonie hat, and large sunglasses from the old man’s closet. The boots were a little big, but that didn’t matter. He wore the shirt outside the pants, which hid the S&W 1911 tucked inside his pants next to his back. The suppressed Ruger was in his right front pocket.

  A large man with tightly cropped hair stood by the door to the apartment building making no pretense he was anything but a guard. His camouflaged desert BDU dress was devoid of rank and unit insignias, but the holstered Beretta M9 on his right hip told the story.

  Kozlov emerged from behind the garage and started shuffling slowly through the parking lot. His head was down and he was muttering.

  Sandy Knoll stood in JR’s apartment watching the parking lot. When he saw the man emerge from behind the garage, instinct told him something wasn’t right. The clothes were too baggy and looked recently laundered. Plus, the man’s stride had purpose, not the aimless easy shuffle of a man with nowhere to go. He decided to go downstairs and watch closer from the door leading to the parking lot.

  He hurried down the stairs two at a time until he was on the ground floor. When he got to the door, the man was just passing Mike. Suddenly the old man straightened, pulled a small pistol from his pocket, and fired in Mike’s direction. Knoll pulled his Beretta as he charged out the door.

  Chapter 36

  Springfield, MO

  The GT Mustang engine’s growl could be heard above the siren as Kruger accelerated toward the downtown area. Five minutes after Kruger and Joseph heard the broadcast over Childress’s radio, the car skidded to a stop in the parking lot of JR’s apartment. A patrol car arrived at the same time, and two officers got out. In the distance, Kruger could hear more sirens approaching. He saw two men in BDUs lying on the ground next to the apartment building entry door. Joseph jumped out and ran toward the two men. One of the police officers demanded that he halt, but Kruger yelled, “FBI, officer. FBI.” He held his badge up and rushed toward Joseph who was already kneeling next to the large sandy-haired man closest to the door.

  Joseph yelled, “I need an ambulance, now!”

  Kruger walked up to the other man on the ground and noticed a small hole just above his left eye; he knelt and closed the man’s eyes. He looked toward Joseph. “Is Sandy alive?”

  Joseph nodded as he put pressure on the wound in the upper area of Sandy’s chest. “He won’t be if we don’t get an ambulance soon.” As he said that, an EMT vehicle and crew pulled into the parking lot, lights flashing and siren winding down. One of the technicians jumped out of the still-moving truck and ran to where Joseph was kneeling.

  The EMT looked at Mike, then at Kruger, who shook his head.

  Joseph stood and said to the EMT, “He took one in the chest. He’s alive.” As the emergency responder took over, Joseph backed up and got out of the woman’s way.

  Joseph stared at Mike’s body and shook his head. Kruger walked over to him and placed his hand on his shoulder. He said nothing.

  Joseph looked at Kruger. “Where’s JR?”

  “He’s at the hospital with Mia. He’s been there most of the day.”

  Joseph nodded and returned to staring at Mike.

  As Kruger glanced around the area, he noticed something. Walking a few steps to the north, he knelt down and pointed to a small pool of a red liquid. “Sandy must have got a shot off before he took a bullet. Looks like Kozlov might have been hit.”

  A uniformed police officer walked up to them. “I just got off the radio with Lieutenant Childress. He asked me to tell you he’s headed this way.”

  Kruger looked at the officers nametag. “Thank you, Officer Ha
mpton.”

  Hampton continued, “We found a trail of blood that leads off toward the north. We’ve got cars headed that way and several men on foot following the trail.”

  “Make sure your men know this guy is extremely dangerous. He’s already shot five individuals and killed four. Plus, he’s a suspect in two murders in New York City. I’m not going to tell you what to do, but take this guy down if you can.”

  The officer nodded. “It’s already a standing order, agent.” He turned and walked back to a patrol car Kruger assumed was the command car.

  One of the EMT technicians stood and walked to where Joseph was standing. “We’re ready to transport, but he wants to talk to you.”

  Joseph hurried back to the medical gurney, and Kruger followed. Knoll’s voice was weak as he said, “What about Mike?” Joseph shook his head. Knoll closed his eyes. “I got several shots off. I think I hit him, but I can’t be sure.”

  Joseph put his hand on Sandy’s arm. “You did. We’ll find him. What was he wearing?”

  “Looked like a homeless guy. Baggy pants and shirt, dark boonie hat, and sunglasses.”

  “Thanks, now let them take you to the hospital. I’ll be there later.”

  Sandy nodded as the oxygen mask was placed back on his face and the gurney was wheeled to the waiting ambulance.

  Kruger wandered over to the bushes next to the apartment after seeing something out of place. He bent down and moved the bushes a little. “I’ve got a gun here. Looks like a Ruger.” He motioned for one of the uniformed officers, who came over and put a red flag next to the gun.

  More police cars arrived and another ambulance. Kruger watched as the original chaos evolved into orchestrated effort to figure out what happened. He scrutinized the surrounding area. The buildings were old, clustered together, with lots of places to hide and lots of ways to move around without being detected. He said to Joseph, “If he’s not found in the next few minutes, he’ll be in the wind again.”

  Joseph nodded. “Most of the ones I dealt with in the eighties were well trained and knew how to evade capture. My guess is he’s already in the wind.”

  Kruger stared off into the distance. “You’re probably right.”

  ***

  The motel room smelled of insecticide and stale cigarette smoke. The bored teenager at the front desk had taken his money and barely glanced at him when he registered. The room was on the ground floor as far away from the street as possible. The old tube television was on with a local channel frantically trying to report the mayhem.

  One of the talking heads in the studio stared intently into the camera. “We have a live report from Penny Harrison in downtown Springfield. Penny.”

  “The apartment building behind me was the location of a gangland style shootout shortly after one this afternoon. One person was pronounced dead at the scene and another was taken to a local hospital. A third gunman is still on the loose and considered armed and dangerous. Police are not commenting about motive or who the suspected assailant might be. The FBI has been called in to help with the investigation. I spoke to an eyewitness a few minutes ago.”

  The view of the reporter was replaced with a video of a tall, lanky woman with stringy blond hair. Her name was displayed under the video as she said, “I seen this homeless guy hangin’ around for several hours. He was a tall dude, at least six foot. He had a beard, he did. He just walked up to those two other fella’s and started shootin’.”

  Kozlov laughed and turned off the television. With eyewitnesses like her, he would have no issues evading the manhunt. The bullet wound in his left arm throbbed. Checking it in the bathroom mirror, he noticed blood soaking through the gauze. While the bullet had not struck bone, it had passed through the bicep muscle. Using techniques his instructors had pounded into his head all those years ago, he’d been able to mostly stop the bleeding. But the wound would continue to ooze blood for a few more hours. He would survive without the help of a doctor. The clothes from the old man’s closet had been placed in a plastic garbage bag and tossed into a dumpster a mile from Diminski’s place.

  Remembering the words of a long-dead instructor, he was hiding in plain sight. Before checking into the motel, he had driven the nurse’s car to a crowded Walmart on the north side of Springfield. After purchasing a small electric screwdriver inside the store, he had swapped the license plates with one from another white Focus he’d found in the employee parking area. This plan would work as long as the owner didn’t get stopped by the police. All Kozlov needed was a few days and he would be gone.

  After changing the gauze on his wound, he put on a long-sleeved shirt to cover the bandage and left the motel room to find something to eat.

  ***

  Mia had been upgraded from critical to stable, so JR sat next to her bed holding her hand as they listened to Kruger summarizing the search for Kozlov. “Weber will be extradited back to New York for the murder of Sharon. He faces other charges in both Greene and Stone County for your kidnapping and attempted murder, but I thought it best to get him out of the state.”

  She nodded but remained quiet.

  JR said, “Where Kozlov?”

  “He vanished. The police followed a blood trail for about a quarter of mile. They lost the trail after that.”

  JR stared at Kruger and was silent. Mia said, “Where’s Joseph and his men. I wanted to thank them. I wouldn’t be here if they hadn’t found me.”

  “They’re downstairs sitting in the waiting area. Sandy’s still in surgery.”

  Having not said a word since Kruger’s arrival, JR finally said, “All of this is my fault.”

  Kruger shook his head. “Not really. They started it, JR.”

  JR stood and walked to the window. The scenery was stark. The front lobby rooftop was two stories below, littered with air-conditioning units and piping. The wall across from the window was another wing of the hospital. He stared out the window and unconsciously watched a nurse pull shades together on a window in the other wing. Finally he walked back to Mia’s bed and held her hand again. After kissing her on the forehead, he said, “I need to do something. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Okay?”

  She looked up at him and smiled. “Be careful.”

  He nodded and walked out of the room, followed by Kruger.

  As they walked toward the elevators, Kruger said, “What do you have in mind?”

  JR turned to look at him. “Something I have to do. Something you might not want to know about.”

  Kruger smiled as the elevator door opened. “I have a really bad memory. Tell me.”

  ***

  Five minutes after arriving at his apartment, he had hacked into the Verizon servers and found the phone number he needed. JR set up the call using various servers across the globe to hide his true location. When he was ready, he made the call using VoIP and waited for the call to be answered. The first call rang seven times before going to voice mail. The second call was answered on the fifth ring.

  “Hello.”

  “Abel Plymel, this is the man you’ve been looking for.”

  There was silence on the other end of the call. Finally, “How do I know this?”

  JR was somewhat surprised at the slight Russian accent he detected. “That’s the trouble with guys like you; you never take responsibility for your actions.”

  “You have my money. I want it back.” Kozlov’s voice was low and menacing.

  JR smiled. “I want you to leave me alone.”

  “The money first, then we will discuss leaving you alone.”

  “Plymel, I can find you anywhere. I found you today. I can find you tomorrow. Here’s my offer. You get your money back, you disappear, and you never bother me again. In exchange, I won’t tell the authorities where you are. You come after me again and I’ll burn you.”

  Silence was JR’s answer. He continued, “I have a little of the money in a safe deposit box and will give you the accounts and access codes to get the rest.”

  “That will
do me no good, the US government has frozen all of my money.”

  “I’ll release them.”

  “How can you do that?”

  “Because I’m the one denying your access.”

  There was silence on the call. After what seemed like an hour, Kozlov said, “Your proposal has merit. How do I know you aren’t setting a trap?”

  “You don’t, but then you could plan to kill me after I give you the money. So we both have a problem with trust, don’t we?”

  “Yes.”

  “Here is my proposal. I’ll put the cash I have in a computer bag. In addition, the bag will contain a flash drive with the account numbers and access codes for your money. I will then place the bag in an open field in a remote location. Far enough from any structure the FBI might use to hide and wait for you. However, I won’t tell you about this location until I have the money in place. You can then take your time making sure I haven’t set a trap.”

  “This is interesting proposal. Let me think about it.”

  “Nope, that’s not how this works. You accept it right now or I’ll call the FBI and tell them where you are.”

  “You do not know where I am. You just have the number for this phone.”

  “False again, Plymel. I know you’re in a No Tell Motel on the northeast side of town about a half a mile from I-44.”

  “Impressive. Okay, I agree to your terms. When will we make the exchange? I don’t have a lot of time to wait.”

  “Everything is ready. I’ll call you when the money’s in place.” He ended the call and smiled.

  Kruger had been listening to the call in a chair next to JR. “Remind me after this is over never to piss you off.”