His story was fact finding as he was new to the area and heard that Fossil old timer’s knew the ways to hunt what the Indians called the elk: ‘The wily ghost. ’ He knew there must be lots of road hunters and coffee hunters hanging around the local cafes swapping lies. By noon he struck gold as two old timers came in looking fresh from Portland with new hunting clothes on from head to foot. Time for another two for one sale, he thought.
At the airport in McMinnville, every car that entered was checked for how many occupants and all ID’s were checked. Each license plate was checked against their registration. The FBI van was logged into a main frame so checking the license plate against the registration was fast and efficient. Cameras from both sides and front recorded each passenger and it were noted how many in each vehicle.
It was Paul’s turn to pass through the checkpoint and had his license and registration ready as the sign said. The security guard was friendly and to Paul, it seemed easy as the security guard barely looked at the license and registration. However, he was fooled as the guard was FBI and quick to check the details in front of him. It was a ruse to make the Senior Killer feel that the security was lax, but in fact is was as tight as a bow string on a fiddle. Paul parked where the parking attendant, also an FBI agent directed him to. Paul put on a baseball that had a picture of a Boeing 747 on the front and if anyone was to guess his age, somewhere in the early sixties was his appearance. He locked his car looking around the large area and large signs pointed the way to start the tour from. A roped off area and a booth was manned by another FBI agent who sold tickets for entry and a brochure schedule of events and times. Paul thought this was going to be fun and he couldn’t wait to see the giant Spruce Goose.
After buying his ticket he looked at the people around him and saw lots of old folks mixed with parents of kids at the show. Paul looked up at the cloudy sky and saw a bi-plane with a large banner streaming behind it advertising the event. No rain was forecast, but cloudy skies and fairly warm temperatures for the end of October made the event seem very nice for Paul and his potential victim. For the next hour he wandered around walking like an old man like he practiced time and time again at the motel with his brother. The main event with the speaker was set for one pm and hundreds of chairs sat to the side of the giant plane with a large platform for the speaker to address the crowd from. Paul looked at his watch and saw it was just eleven am. Now was the time to seek out a senior who was alone and not so grouchy looking to talk planes with.
Senior Killer John sat watching the two guys having lunch and a map of the area talking hunting elk and where they might go. John had the same map and he quickly looked for a remote road to take these two hunters into the hills for a last look at Nature before they made their way to the happy hunting grounds, as he laughed to himself. This was going to be too easy and thought about his brother and him doing it at the same time. What would the stupid FBI and that Batt Team think of this turn of events? He thought as he folded up his map and made ready to walk out of the café following the two old gents to their vehicle. He subconsciously felt his Marlin spike next to his leg in its holster and a small 32 caliber handgun if the two gents needed a little persuasion to not fight the inevitable outcome: death at the hands of Senior Killer John.
The two old timers finished their lunch and one went to pay the bill while the other one waited at the door for him. John followed suit and waited while the older looking of the two paid the bill and when he turned to leave he smiled said hello. John paid his bill and followed them out the door to the parking lot next to the street. He saw a new Suburban with a camp trailer attached to the back of the vehicle. Nice set up, he thought. John quickened his pace and said, “Hold up a minute guys, I see you have the same map I do,” as he held him up for them to see. The older of the two was standing at the passenger door while the other was preparing to get in. Wordless they waited for the hunter to approach and John could see a wary look in the old guy’s eyes. “Have you guys hunted this area before?” He asked.
“No we haven’t,” the younger one said. “This is our first time in this area, but we have hunted down in the John Day area before. We thought we might drive around and find a place to camp out and look the country over.”
John felt he had them and continued with a friendly smile, “I was going to do the same thing, but my partner failed to show up and now I was kind of looking for someone to hunt with,” he said with downcast lonely eyes appealing to the pity.
The younger one looked at the old guy and the older man shrugged his shoulders saying it was fine by him if this guy wanted to tag along. So it was decided John would lead the way up a road he saw and had been on in the years past. John got into his SUV that was packed with all the things necessary to look like a hunter in the back. They drove out to highway 19 and headed down towards the southeast which is known as the John Day highway. About five miles out of town John spotted the road he had marked on his map and turned left with the two victims following him. His excitement grew as they wound their way uphill into the mountains. About an hour later on top of a mountain, in a grove of pine trees a nice camping place sat vacant. John pulled in and the suburban followed. John stood by his SUV while the two guys jockeyed their camp trailer into a nice spot. After unhooking the two guys told John they would like to drive around looking the area over now that they trailer was unhooked. They told their new friend they had lots more room in their rig and how about John riding with them. John jumped at the chance and soon they were driving slowly on the narrow logging road with John in the passenger seat and the older man in the back sitting behind him.
Back at the airport in McMinnville, Paul had found an old timer who was there on his own. He’d taken a bus to the event and lived in Newberg not so far way on the highway to Portland. Paul was playing the role to the hilt and excitement was mounting as he thought about sending the Marlin spike his brother gave him up into the guy’s brain. He flashed back at his last kill. He was chosen to kill their mother while father was in town drinking at the tavern. They would tell father she had run away, which she had threatened so many times before. Father would beat the hell out them, but the mother would lay the wood of a whip like branch she had placed by the old cook stove. It stung like all get out and it raised welts like a strip dark red across white skin. The plan was set on the day father went to the feed store and to the tavern. It never failed when he came home to choose one of them to beat the hell out of then made one of them drop their pants while he stroked his member with pig fat and abused one of the brothers.
A rage was building with Paul and he fought the urge to lay waste to this guy right here in front of the crowd. Old people were so mean and their words stung like bee stings when they talked to young people. He agreed with his brother that when a person reached sixty, time to pass on. He was more than glad to help rid the senior population. Now his big brother gave him his opportunity to begin his own career of killing old folks
Paul’s friends name was Howard and he lived alone in a small house on the outskirts of town. He was retired from the fruit factory in town and lived a solitary life doing nothing. He was happy to be here today and it was obvious to Paul his memory of where he was and what he was doing was not so good. Paul saw a man walk to a microphone and the historical story of the Spruce Goose was about to begin.
Meanwhile at the FBI trailer Nancy and the other agents, including Billy looked at the computer printouts and all agreed now the hard part was ahead of them: waiting. Also to make sure if the killer made a run for it, a block or so outside the gate of the airport was now lined with police cars bumper to bumper and men were in place to lay a mat strip of nails to flatten the tires of a vehicle in a car chase. By the time word came to them the killer was making an escape attempt, they would have time to stretch the nails across the road and the police cars lined up would act as a funnel.
Billy was outside the trailer chain smoking listening to the faint sound of the guy giving the history lesson. A
ll was quiet as only a few cars trickled in and most of them had more than one passenger. Everyone had about an hour to wait as the speech drug on before the cars started to leave as that was the last event for the day.
Driving along the ridge top of a large mountain, the air was crisp and clear. Not a cloud in the sky and no wind to speak of. Inside the suburban, John was talking a mile a minute and had his thermos of coffee with knock out pills ready to share with the two gents from Portland. If they drank the coffee, it would be all over in a matter of minutes. With two of them the knock out pills was the best way to do this kill. While he noticed a wide spot to pull over John suggested they stop and take a look with glasses at the possibility of seeing some elk. Both agreed as they pulled over while John handed the older guy in the backseat a cup of coffee. While he was reaching across the back of his seat in front with his right hand to pass the coffee, faster than he could remember anyone moving, a pair of handcuffs tightened on one wrist while the car came to an abrupt stop and the driver had his left hand raised up and thrown back to make a neat pair of locked wrists all within a few seconds times. John, having been turned was thrown against the dashboard from the sudden stop his mouth hanging open stared into the meanest set of eyes he’d ever seen. It didn’t take but a fraction of a second to recognize the dog and knew the game was up.
The Spruce Goose event was over. The crowd slowly made their way to their cars and pickup trucks. Most of the vehicles had more than one person in them. Parents brought both kids and grandparents to see the show.
Paul and his new friend Howard walked to Paul’s car. He helped the old guy in because he was as feeble physically as mentally. The traffic was slow to get out the gate as security checked each car on the way out. Paul felt comfortable with his ID and expected no problems on the way out to Newburg and leaving his new friend staring at the ceiling with lifeless eyes.
In the FBI trailer activity was at its peak. Checking cars with one passenger coming in with more than one going out; or more than what came in for that matter. Two times they thought they had him when one car had an additional passenger. Turned out an old friend was taking a ride with them home. Another one had a single guy coming in, but two going out. In that case two old friends had met and were going for a beer downtown.
Paul was starting to get a little nervous. There was too much activity up front of the long line to get out. However, he was determined to stay the course and complete the mission his brother gave him.
Nancy was pleased about the way it was going. Agents in the field were patrolling the fence line and the checkout was going smoothly. They were, she guessed about half way through. Billy was jabbering like magpies and always reaching for a cigarette when Nancy told him to light up before he drove her crazy. Billy smiled and almost tore his shirt pocket digging out a Marlboro. At the checkout booth all could hear what the agents said while talking to the vehicles leaving.
Only one car was between Paul and the checkout guys. There was one on each side of the car checking ID’s. Now it was his turn as he slowly made his way to the stopping point and rolled down his window. The guy smiled and asked for his ID and the same on the other side with his passenger Howard. About that time from in the FBI trailer an agent said, “Red alert, we got something here with that car at the checkout point. It came in with one person and now has two.”
Nancy came on point and said in her mouth piece which went directly to the agents at the checkout point that something was up and to make sure the stories they were hearing rang true.
Paul had sweat running down his forehead and when his security guard reached up and listen to what someone was telling him he panicked and stuck his foot to the floor and took off like a shot. An alert went out for the make, model and color of the car down the line of waiting police cars. By now the car that was in front of Paul had cleared the end of the line of police cars and that was when Paul from a block away saw some guys dragging something across the road. He kept his foot to the floor and Howard had slipped down in the seat holding onto his open window frame. Paul foolishly thought if he could only make to the end of the line of cars he could maybe get away.
Policemen who witnessed the end of the chase described it this way. The car hit the spike belt and all four tires went flat. The car veered sideways to the left and the driver tried to right the slide and over steered making the car do a three sixty in the middle of the road coming to a rest pointing out. The driver tried to go, but on four flat tires went nowhere. By that time the car was surrounded by police holding guns and yelling to stick their hands out the windows.
At about the same time Nancy and with Billy riding with her drove up to the circle of blue clad police mixed with agents in suits to see, what they thought was John the Senior Killer with handcuffs up against his car. Poor old Howard was cuffed too, but shortly they realized he was the intended victim not the serial killer.
Nancy told the agents to bring him to the FBI trailer for a little interrogation. When she arrived back at the hanger, the members of Brad’s team waited for the suspect to arrive. When he was out of the car Wendy noticed this guy didn’t quite look like the guy she remembered from the pig farm. Oh well, she thought, he is disguised and soon we will see the real face underneath the makeup.
Paul was led up into the trailer and by then he was crying and mumbling about his brother, but he wasn’t making sense as Wendy and the team looked at him sitting on a metal chair while two agents with rags went after his face like a mother with a boy who just ate ice cream and cake. By the time they got him cleaned up, he stopped crying and asked to see his brother. He said, “I need to call my brother. He is expecting a phone call from me as soon as possible.”
Nancy made sure and read him his rights and made sure he understood if he talked to them without a lawyer present any and all……… ..”
He told her yes, he understood and was ready to talk. He looked around for the first time and saw a tall woman talking to him and so many other people staring at him he thought like he was the center of attraction. He sat up straight and stuck out his chest and chin smiling at them like a little kid in a candy store
Nancy said, “What is your name and where do you live?”
He said, with a loud clear voice, “My name is Paul Mitchell and I live in the Bald Hills on a pig farm.”
“What is your brother’s name,” she said looking at Wendy.
“Which one?” He asked.
“How many brothers do you have,” Nancy asked him.
“There are three of us brothers.”
“Names please,” she asked with a smile as he was warming to the discussion.
“The oldest is John, then I’m next, Paul and the last one is Edward. We are triplets.”
“Paul, would you mind if we took your finger prints now?”
“Not at all, I’m glad to help. I’m glad this is over as my head was starting to throb,” as he rubbed his temples. An agent quickly, but efficiently took his fingerprints and found out in a few minutes they were not John’s as suspected. Upon hearing the report all of the team and Nancy smiled at the knowledge of what Brad had guessed right what John the serial killer was going to do on Halloween.
Chapter 20
On the ride back to camp, John sat quietly while no words were spoken until they arrived back where the SUV and camper trailer was parked. Mike unloaded some camp chairs and the three of them sat in a circle. It was cold so Mike built a fire so they could stay warm. John sat and watched not saying a word. Brad was thinking what Wendy had told him if they caught the killer to make him think he was smart and done a good job. That way he would open up if you showed him some respect. Brad took the advice to heart and after the fire started to burn he said to John, “John, I have the utmost respect for your plan and how you carried it out. We appreciate you not making your victims suffer. I’m afraid, John, you gave us too many clues and, well, here we sit on top of a mountain in Eastern Oregon around a warm fire discussing the chase you led us on
. Do you know John there was over a thousand agents working on this case. Your operation cost the government over one hundred million dollars. Quite a feat I would say John. If you don’t mind would you tell Mike and I how it all started? No tape recording or anything like that. There are just the three of us sitting on a mountain with no one within a mile of here to hear us talk.”
John sat there looking from Brad to Mike and then to the dog which sat quietly next to his master. John had heard what he said as he looked down at his hands in cuffs between his legs. He raised his hands and showed that he would like them removed as a compromise to his situation. Brad removed the handcuffs and John rubbed his wrists and then held his hands out to the fire as the temperature was dropping fast. It would freeze hard tonight, he thought. Looking up as if it was his last look at life, he said, “It all started when we were kids,” in a voice that at first was what they were used to and then his voice started to change taking on a young adolescent about ten or twelve. A higher voice before puberty, Brad thought. “My daddy would come home drunk and beat us kids for no reason and then locking us in the dark room under the kitchen. The small room only had a dirt floor. It was always cold and pitch black. Daddy had a drop cord with a light on it he would bring into the room when he needed to stick his thing in one of us kids. It hurt so bad and he would slap our bare butts and yell things we couldn’t understand. Most of the time it was Edward who was the youngest and softer than Paul or me” John stopped for a minute and as Brad and Mike were not unused to horror stories, this one ranked at the top of their list for abuse.
John: The Senior Killer Page 20
