Dwyer was sizing him up using the Hare Psychopathy Checklist.
"You don't say much?" Redell was forcing the smile. "Think we care about those people this morning. I don't. Just like them, I don't give a shit about you. You don't want to talk. I don't want to talk."
Redell turned to his left. Two of his men plus Big Red and Tim Harding were watching.
"Tie him up." Redell nodded to a chair on the other side of the room.
"Why did you take Kelly?" Dwyer asked.
"Her mistake. Born into the wrong family. Too eager to make them rich. Too eager to force her God on the rest of us." Redell said. "We're just doing what has to be done."
"So it's her fault?"
" Yeah. You got a problem with that?" Redell said.
Psychopath, Dwyer thought to himself. Before he answered any more questions he recalled the survival rule. Walk away from a psychopath. Don't get into a power game with them. They'll win because they don't play by ethical standards. The Hare Checklist was taught to him in the military. As a psychologist he used it to diagnose and identify the degree of a soldier's psychopathic tendencies. Developed in the early 1990s, Dwyer used it in the Gulf War. He used it every time he met someone new. Every time his defense mechanism was triggered.
The checklist has twenty traits. It's used for both men and women. But Dwyer wasn't looking at a woman. He was studying a male. One who fit the checklist.
Dwyer saw the first trait immediately, glib, superficial charm. Blow up a street, take a hostage, one of your guys killed and you can't stop smiling. Dwyer was experienced, military experience and he wasn't smiling. The situation was serious, deadly serious and Beau Redell kept smiling.
The second was lack of remorse or guilt. Not that noticeable except when you accuse the victim of causing the problem. Psychopaths show no remorse when they talk about their crimes because they don't have any. The secret is to get them talking, see what they say, see what they don't say. Beau Redell wanted to talk, but not about remorse.
Dwyer did a mental check on the remaining list, need for stimulation, pathological lying, cunning and manipulative. Redell was positive for all of them. Giving a maximum two points for each item totals forty. A score above thirty is a psychopath. Beau Redell scored thirty-five and that was a quick field test. Probably a clean forty if he interviewed him. Definitely a psychopath.
Dwyer stared at Redell. Pictured him telling grandiose stories with himself as the center of the universe. The stories would be lies built on lies. He would be arrogant and cocky.
He stared at Redell. There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to get away.
Redell stared back.
His face changed, the smile disappeared. The eyes were cold, focused straight ahead.
Dwyer knew he had to do something, say something.
"Hell no I don't have a problem with that," Dwyer said.
Dwyer waited for his reaction. He watched his face. A grin slowly emerged. It got bigger.
"I didn't think so," he said. "Think we should smash your teeth out of your face?"
Dwyer braced for a fight. Shifted his weight to his back leg. Ready to hit the first person who moved. Ready to die.
"Maybe not," Redell said. "We'll hold you for a spell. You'll come in handy at the right moment. Cause you’re a smart one. Found the weak link in my armor and killed him. Maybe I should thank you. You know, for doing the work for me. Natural selection."
Dwyer shrugged.
They stared at each other.
Then Redell nodded. Two of his men moved. Dwyer was grabbed by the elbows. Another guy pumped a shotgun. Made a cracking sound catching everyone's attention. Kelly Paul gasped, made a high-pitched noise of panic. Dwyer knew they weren't going to shoot him; it made no sense. One of Redell's men stepped from the shadows, had something in his hands. Dwyer knew what it was when he heard the metallic sound, handcuffs.
Chapter 20
Dwyer had left the truck stop only a few hours before. Marched across a field and through a forest. Killed a guard and was taken hostage. But in the dark center of the barn Dwyer had no idea why he was a prisoner or what this was all about.
He was handcuffed to a wooden chair. The pretty lady Kelly Paul was strapped to a cross. Dwyer sat with each ankle cuffed to a chair leg each wrist cuffed to an armrest.
Redell watched his men lock Dwyer into the chair; he was making sure this pain in the ass wasn't going to cause any more trouble. Then he looked at Kelly Paul. Stared at her for a moment. Broke out laughing, looking at the two of them and shaking his head.
"You two are a pair," he said. "I get it now. The girl likes you."
Dwyer looked at her. Her eyes were beautiful.
She was looking at Dwyer and slowly shifted them toward the ground, kind of shy-like Dwyer thought.
"This just keeps getting better," Redell said and turned to his men. "You think these two lovebirds are gonna make it?"
It was like a chorus, everyone chuckled. Kelly Paul looked uncomfortable.
She was embarrassed. She did like Jack; he was the knight in shining armor. She couldn't hide it. He was not the kind of man she usually met, this one was strong, fearless, a tough guy. Her father would disapprove. Jack saved her and she didn't know why. But she liked it. She liked knowing that someone cared more about her than himself.
"All right, let’s leave these two alone for the night," Redell turned away and was still shaking his head as he left the room. He put his arm around one the guy's shoulders, kind of hugged him.
"Give us a kiss will you," he said.
The guy pulled away. Redell laughed.
Dwyer waited until Beau Redell and his men left. They stared at each other in silence. One lamp was on in a far corner across the room. It barely lit the place. But it was enough for Dwyer to see what was around him. They were locked in a large room. High ceilings, no windows. They were in the open, center of the floor. To his left, a couple of wooden benches. To his right the same. It was warm, Florida warm. Dusty, humid, no air movement. Felt like they were in a wooden box. Dwyer thought he could smell fresh paint.
He sat there testing the restraints. Secure, tight. Thinking about the psychopath, and what he would do to them. He was thinking about Kelly Paul and what was going through her mind. She was grabbed at the hospital right in front of the police. Beau Redell's men were professional, organized. But did just what they were told to do. Nothing detailed about what they did, nothing strategically brilliant, just basic block and tackle. Go to a hospital, grab a woman; get her out of there.
He was looking at Kelly Paul. She was looking at him. She was holding back her fear. Dwyer could see that. Her jaw was tight. She was shaking, barely noticeable but he saw it. Her body was limp. She had given up. Stopped pulling against her cuffs. Then she forced a sad smile.
"You've come to save me again," she said.
She was sarcastic, but there was a note of truth to her remark. He was here to save her. She licked her lips. That's when he noticed how dry it was. He swallowed. Felt like there was a lump in his throat.
"You okay?" she asked.
He was looking at her face. His eyes followed each arm. He could see she was strapped to a cross. Her legs looked weak. She was shifting her weight from one leg to the other. He looked back to her face. She was still a pretty woman. He knew why she caught his attention at the coffee shop. A smile broke out on his face.
"They hurt you?" he asked her.
She hesitated. He could tell she was thinking. Asking herself if she was okay. She swallowed, started to relax.
"How did you find me?"
He watched the expression on her face. She was puzzled. Trying to put together the pieces. She was staring straight at him waiting for an answer.
"Luck. I recognized a face, followed them here," he answered.
He started planning. Looking for a way out. They had to do something before dawn. They had taken his watch. It was maybe one o'clock in the morning. Only a few hours and they would be back.
"Why would you do that," she asked. "Come looking for me?"
She was having trouble trying to make sense of Dwyer's actions.
"You’re leverage to draw out your old man," he said. "I'm the patsy, the fall guy. FBI thinks I had something to do with your disappearance and the car bomb."
She continued to stare. It didn't make sense.
"I was sitting in the coffee shop. One in a million chance I'd witness a car bomber. One in a million chance I'd save the target. The FBI don't buy those type of odds. They think I'm in on it. They were planning to kill you. Send a message to your father. They didn't expect me. But at the hospital they put Plan B into action. Took you as a hostage."
"Hostage?" Kelly Paul said.
"They're going to use you to get to your father," Dwyer said. "He is the target. You and I are collateral; he's the prize. They weren't expecting you to survive. So who are these people, what do they want with your father?"
She looked at him and raised her eyebrows.
"Don't you know," she asked. "You know who my father is, right? Minister Benjamin Paul!"
He nodded.
"I know he's a Minister," he said. "There's more to it than that?"
She hesitated. Not sure of herself.
"He's ready to make an announcement."
"Must be important," Dwyer said. "Political?"
"He's going to run for office. President."
Dwyer started putting the pieces together. Kidnap the daughter of a very powerful figure, maybe the next President. Change the course of the country. Change history.
"Why do they want to stop him?" he asked.
She waited for a beat.
"He wants to take the country back, back to when we were safe."
Dwyer thought about that. There was never a time when he felt safe. His uncle, the bail bondsmen, was surrounded by criminals. He joined the army; saw death. Became a psychologist; saw the inside of the criminal mind. His world was never safe.
"Safe means losing something, what are we talking about?"
"He wants strict gun control," she said. "Break up the NRA. Take the guns away from civilians. Make the country safe again. Only the military and police to carry weapons. Prayer in School. I.D. Cards for everyone. One religion, one country. Some people don't get it."
Dwyer stared at her. He didn't get it.
"So who are these guys?" he asked.
She looked around. Taking in the situation.
"Not sure," she said. "We get a lot of fanatics, people who like us, people who hate us. Most of them are just sounding off. Not really a threat."
Dwyer knew that this group were much more that just a threat. They had planned this, were prepared for the unexpected. They were organized. Which meant they knew what the end looked like.
"You know this Beau Redell guy?" Dwyer asked.
She looked down at the ground. Thinking, trying to find a connection.
"Never heard of him," She said. "Don't even know where I am."
He studied her for a moment.
"The way you were dressed. When the bomb went off, you were waiting for someone, your son?" he asked.
She nodded.
Dwyer realized her son was a no show at the cafe. He was a no show at the hospital. It wasn't looking good.
"What's your father going to do when he finds out?"
She swallowed. Dwyer could see the trouble she was having thinking about this.
"He's got connections," she said. "He's a determined man."
"Guess they changed their mind about killing you," he said.
That caught her attention. She looked right at him.
"What do you mean?"
"If they were going to kill you they would have done it at the hospital," he said. "Why sneak you out and bring you here?"
She felt better. Realized he was right. She was a hostage to draw her father out.
"But what about the bombing?"
"Maybe the plan was to stir things up. Take you as a hostage," Dwyer said. "I came along and got to you first."
"Who are you?" she asked.
"Just a guy," he said.
She looked at him, trying to figure him out.
"What kind of guy?"
He thought about his childhood, his past. The trouble he'd seen in his life.
"A guy on vacation," he said.
She smiled.
"You some sort of thrill seeker, adrenaline junkie?"
He smiled.
"Just a guy who saw a pretty woman in trouble."
Chapter 21
First thing in the morning, Army Major Kenneth Ore walked out of the hotel and nodded to the bellman. He looked at his watch, five-thirty. He stood at attention, rocking slightly on his heels. He had a routine. Out of bed at exactly four-thirty. Fifteen minutes of calisthenics, push-ups, crunches, stretching. Then he would shower and shave. He'd ordered breakfast the night before, fruit, toast, and yogurt. It arrived at five-fifteen. He would eat in ten minutes and be out the door at five-twenty-five. Giving him five minutes to be outside, ready to go. Routine, army routine.
He was looking in the direction of the highway when he saw Agents Miller and Hammons pull in.
Right on cue an unmarked blue Crown Vic slowed to a stop at the hotel entrance. Major Ore opened the back door and hopped in.
Hammons turned around and gave Ore two pictures of Jack Dwyer taken while he was at the FBI office.
"Any word?" Major Ore asked.
He was looking at the pictures of Dwyer.
"Some," Miller said. "We know where his car is. State Trooper called it in during the night. They've been watching it. Also have him on security video in the truck stop. He went in at eleven sixteen. Left seventeen minutes later. With a knife."
"Did he meet anyone?" Ore asked.
"Walked out of the building," Miller said. "Then disappeared. Maybe picked up by the car bomb guys. Maybe hitched a ride with a trucker. Leaving the car there might be a decoy, you know keep us busy at the station while he's off in another state."
"Not likely," Ore said. "I don't think Dwyer's that smart."
"Smart enough to get your girl," Hammons said.
The Major looked up from the pictures. He was angry. He was used to giving orders not listening to civilians with smart mouths.
"You got a problem Hammons?" Ore asked.
"What's an ex-army guy doing working for a religious freak?"
"You better have a word with your partner there Miller," Ore said. "I can have you two assholes replaced before either one of you blinks."
Miller and Hammons glanced at each other. The atmosphere in the car got tense.
Hammons hid his smile. But made sure Miller saw it. He'd got the Major riled up, on purpose, deliberate. His own way of letting the Major know he wasn't going to take any shit from him. He didn't like the idea of an ex-military guy showing up and having some pull. He was proud of what he'd accomplished. He was proud to be an agent. He was serving his country. Keeping it safe, playing his part in the fight against terrorism. At least that's what he told himself.
"Did you search the area?" Ore demanded.
Hammons shook his head, made a face. The Major didn't see it because he was sitting behind them in the back seat. Miller saw it.
"No. State Troopers are waiting for us," Miller answered. "We told them to keep their distance. Just watch the place."
Miller picked up a folder and slapped Hammons on the leg with it. Hammons got the message. There was silence for a few minutes.
"What about on your end?" Miller asked. "Any word on a ransom?"
Major Ore grunted, like he didn't want to give them any information.
"The Minister is getting the financials in place," Major Ore said. "He's expecting a call. He's rich, they're going to want money."
There was silence until they pulled off the highway and turned into the truck stop.
"This is where they found the car," Miller said
He parked the bureau car close
to the guardrail about three hundred feet from Dwyer's rental. They sat in the car looking at their suspect's vehicle parked by itself across the parking lot. They stared for about ten minutes. There wasn't much going on. It was mid morning. Light traffic and only a few cars in the parking lot. Major Ore leaned forward and pointed toward the vehicle.
"There's not much around here is there?" Ore asked.
"Farm land," Miller said. "And lots of it."
"Ok, I don't want to wait anymore," Ore said. "The Minister wants his daughter found. You guys good with that? Then let’s look at this car."
Miller and Hammons nodded. They got out of their vehicle and walked towards a police car. The Florida Highway Patrol had taken turns keeping their eye on it since it was found.
A Trooper got out of his car and approached Miller, Hammons, and Major Ore. Miller and Hammons flashed their IDs. Ore ignored the cop and walked straight to the Camry.
"This is where we found the car," the cop said.
He stood with his hands on hips. There wasn't much to discuss. Just a dark late model Camry parked behind the building.
Ore was looking in the windows.
"Anybody open the trunk?"
"We were told just to watch it," the cop said.
Major Ore looked at Miller, "Well?"
Agent Miller reached down and tried the door handle. It was unlocked. Hammons tried the passenger door; it was unlocked.
"Pretty strange," the cop said.
Agent Miller glanced at him. "Leaving the doors open?"
"No. Two guys saw him walk out into the field. They left before he came back," the cop said.
Mayor Ore shook his head.
"Don't you assholes talk?" he asked. "Someone know what's out there? Huh?"
"We'll get a map on it." Miller said.
"Screw the map. We're getting a chopper," Ore said.
He walked away cursing the agents. Turned his back to them. Pulled out his cell phone and made a call.
"What! You guys didn't know about the witnesses?" the cop asked.
Miller and Hammons looked at him. Then climbed inside the Camry.
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