Secret Shepherd

by James Osborne

  “Yes, I know,” Ken replied.

  “We still don’t know how those wannabe killers are able to locate where Anne and I are in our travels,” Paul said.

  “I also thought Mrs. Meriwether may have had something to do with that,” Ken said. “I hope you’re following the advice of those bodyguards, Paul.”

  “Indeed we are.”

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  Earnscliffe

  Paul was happily relieved at how understanding Anne was about him breaking their vow to be totally honest with each other.

  “There are exceptions to everything,” she said graciously. Paul sensed he was more upset about his transgression than she.

  “What do you think of your mother’s venture into undercover work?” Paul asked.

  “I’m as surprised as you,” she replied. “I must give her and Daddy full marks for their dedication to our country... yes, Paul, I admit I’m proud of both of them.”

  He glanced at his watch and excused himself from their family room.

  “Thank you for being so understanding, my love,” he said. “I’m due to call Isaac Dietrich and George Spencer. I’m hoping they have more information about what happened to Ahmed.”

  Paul sat at the ancient desk in his den and dialed the speakerphone.

  “Have you heard anything more about the investigation into Ahmed’s murder?” Paul asked.

  “I spoke with Sheriff Mitchell this morning,” George said. “He told me they’ve run out of clues.”

  “That’s not encouraging!” Paul said. “Is there anything we can do?”

  “Not much, evidently,” George replied. “Mitchell was one of my early students. I know him. To tell you the truth, I’m pretty sure there are things he’s not telling us. I’m disappointed with him.”

  “Yeah?” Paul said. “After trying to claim Ahmed’s death was suicide, I’m not much of a fan either.”

  “I agree, Paul,” George replied. “He’s come around some, since the medical examiner’s report was finally made public. He did confirm rumors that three young men were involved. That’s all he’ll say. Word around town is that three men got drunk one night in a bar and went on a rant about terrorists. Locals say one of them is the son of a county commissioner; been in trouble before. We’re pretty sure who that could be. But Mitchell claims he has no evidence the son is one of the three suspects.”

  “What about the other two?” Paul asked.

  “Jeff says all he has to go on are the eyewitness accounts of other drinkers,” George replied. “Won’t stand up in court. He told me they’ve been unable to locate the other two suspects. One grew up in Kingsport; had a few scrapes with the law. He’s the guy found guilty of threatening you with a knife. He jumped bail while waiting for his appeal.”

  “Jason Malik,” Paul said.

  “That’s him,” George replied.

  “Malik’s one nasty character,” Paul said.

  “Mitchell says there’s no trace of the third guy supposedly involved,” George said. “All he could get from witnesses in the bar that night... and remember people drink in bars... is that the guy was short, skinny and had an unusual name... Igor or something like that.”

  “I hope you’ll keep tabs on the sheriff,” Paul said. “Ahmed deserves justice... it’s the least we can do for him.”

  “I’ll do exactly that,” George said.

  “Please keep me posted,” Paul said. “How’s construction coming along, Isaac?”

  “You’d hardly recognize the place,” Isaac replied. “I’ll send you some photos. We’ve enlarged the motel and restaurant.”

  “Really?” Paul said. He wondered if Isaac might have become a bit over-zealous.

  “I didn’t want to tell you until the deals were signed,” Isaac said. “And now they’re done!”

  Paul could hear Isaac’s voice full of excitement.

  “What deals?” he asked.

  “Expanding both was a condition of a ten-year franchise deal we just signed with a motel chain.”

  “Congratulations!” Paul said. He was relieved he’d added Isaac and Naomi to those with signing authority for the development. “That’s fabulous... very exciting. Good for you!”

  “Here’s the best part,” Isaac said. “They’ve agreed to hire and train only local people.”

  “Bonus!” Paul replied. “How’s the office building coming along?”

  Isaac laughed.

  “You wouldn’t believe it Paul,” he said. “Success seems to beget success. We’re adding two more floors.”

  “Really?” Paul asked, again wary. “How come?”

  “Hawkins County has been looking for new office space,” Isaac said. “One of the buildings they’re in should have been condemned years ago. They also need space to expand a couple of departments. Naomi and I had a chat with their property people. She’s taken on the property management side. We were able to show them its more economical for them to lease from us than to renovate or build. We signed a seven-year lease on the top three floors with options.”

  “That’s awesome!” Paul said. “Congratulations again to both you and Naomi!” He let out a soft whistle.

  “Our office building’s going to be six floors instead of four,” Isaac said. “And I have a list of appointments with realtors wanting to show interested clients the choices available on the other two floors of offices.”

  “My goodness,” Paul said. “You’re booming right along! I’m impressed.”

  “Thanks, Paul. I’ve added an extra construction shift... eight more local workers... to meet deadlines. One other thing, Paul. Would you mind if we called it the ‘Ahmed Mousavi Centre’, or the ‘Mousavi Centre’ for short?”

  “That’s a wonderful idea,” Paul said.

  “What about your tree farm, George?” Paul asked.

  “I have to say, Paul,” George replied. “In all the years I’ve been here I’ve never seen my neighbors and other farmers so energized. We’ve regular planning and strategy meetings. Almost everybody shows up. They want to be involved in every step. It’s wonderful to see! And that’s true ownership, in my books.”

  “You got that right,” Paul replied. “What about the farm purchases?”

  “We’re getting close to three thousand acres,” George replied. “Isaac and Naomi have been doing the numbers for me.”

  “We could have an economical operation with about five thousand acres,” Isaac said. “We have some work to do yet.”

  “News of the tree farming operation has spread quickly,” George added. “We’ve had lots of offers to sell, even from farmers too far away.”

  “How about a second farm instead of one large central location?” Paul asked.

  “Good idea, Paul,” George replied. “But what would the investor think about that?”

  “Leave that to me,” Paul replied.

  “We might be able to assemble two parcels of about three thousand acres each, give or take a few... parcels that wouldn’t be too far apart,” George said.

  “Why not have a chat with Malcolm about that?” Paul said.

  “Thank you for suggesting him to us,” George said. “We’re building a great relationship with him. He’s incredible... thinks out of the box, you know.”

  “Yes, I know,” Paul said, chuckling. “Glad to hear that’s working out well for all of you.”

  “Sure is,” they replied.

  “That investor must have pretty deep pockets,” Isaac added.

  “So I understand,” Paul replied. “Look fellows, it’s going to be a few more weeks before I can get back there. Is there anything else?”

  “Yes,” Isaac said. “Just one thing. Will you let us know your exact schedule when you’re coming back?”

  “Sure,” Paul said. “Why?”

  “Naomi and I want to set a date for our wedding, and I need a best man,” Isaac said. “Would you be willing?”

  “Absolutely!” Paul said. “I would be honored!”

  “Nao
mi wants to ask Joan Hamilton and my mom to be maids of honor,” Isaac said. “My little sister will be her bridesmaid.”

  “I’m sure Joan will be delighted,” Paul replied.

  “One more thing,” Isaac said. “Naomi got approval for a student visa. Isn’t that wonderful? She can finish her engineering degree at the University of Tennessee in Knoxville; she’s going to transfer into computer engineering, her other love... besides me, of course! And she’s going to apply to immigrate.”

  “That’s great news!” Paul said. “More congratulations are in order then!”

  “Yeah,” Isaac said. “We want our family to enjoy the benefits that a beautiful little town like Rogersville has to offer. For the first time in my life, I’m finally beginning to feel like I have a future here, Paul.”

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  New Scotland Yard

  “Thanks for coming in, Paul,” Ken said.

  “You said it was urgent,” Paul replied.

  “Yes, indeed,” the London police executive replied. “This matter bears directly on your personal security, Paul, and on the security of your family.”

  “Does this have anything to do with that helicopter attack on my wife and daughter?”

  “It does and more,” Ken said.

  “There’s more?”

  “Yes.”

  “Would you define ‘more’ to mean the Maurice Eldridge-Marion Stapleton-Kazem Mehregan triangle?” Paul asked.

  “It’s adding up, isn’t it?” Ken said. A grim look crossed his face. “The fact is, Paul, almost everyone involved with Mehregan’s gang has dropped out of sight. All of them were released on bail. We’re having difficulty locating any of them. All things considered, we feel it would be a good idea to increase the security around your family.”

  “Is that absolutely necessary?”

  “We’ve received some disturbing information about one of Mehregan’s gang members, Izad Rajavi.”

  “Nasty fellow,” Paul said. “He may have been involved in Ahmed’s murder. I assume he’s missing too?”

  “Yes,” Ken said. “But he left a calling card, of sorts. We think he tried to murder a fellow countryman of yours here in London.”

  “Anyone I know?” Paul asked.

  “Jason Malik.”

  “He’s here?” Paul said. “That’s another nasty character. You said ‘tried to murder’?”

  “Yes,” Ken replied. “Some commuters on a ferry this morning spotted Malik near the Thames River. He’d been beaten and shot several times... barely alive. He’s in St. Thomas’ Hospital.”

  “What the hell is he doing in London?” Paul said, half to himself.

  “Investigators were able to interview him briefly before he went into surgery,” Ken said. “He managed to tell them three things of particular interest to us, and to you. First, Malik says the guy who tried to kill him was Izad Rajavi.”

  “That’s no surprise,” Paul said. “He’s known as the gang’s enforcer. What’s the connection between them?”

  Ken didn’t answer. He continued, “The next point is that Malik told our investigators he and Rajavi and one other man killed your friend Ahmed.”

  “What?” Paul said. “That son of a bitch! What the hell was Rajavi doing in Rogersville? How in the world did he get into the country, much less know Ahmed was in that small town?”

  “We’re not sure,” Ken said. “We hope to get some of those answers when Malik regains consciousness after surgery. The doctors said he might be able to speak with us sometime tomorrow afternoon. Would you like to join me when I question him?”

  “Of course,” Paul said.

  “Do you have any idea why Malik came to London?” Ken asked.

  “All I know is he jumped bail while awaiting an appeal on his conviction for attacking me in Rogersville,” Paul replied. “This is bizarre. What could he possibly have had against Ahmed?”

  “No idea, yet,” Ken replied. “By fingering Rajavi, its clear Malik wants to make a deal to save his own skin for Mr. Mousavi’s murder.”

  “No surprise,” Paul replied.

  “Meanwhile,” Ken said. “We have something else to deal with that is of even greater concern.”

  “What’s that?” Paul asked.

  “Malik’s third point. He told us that Rajavi is still determined to carry out Mehregan’s order to kill you, especially now that the bounty has been raised to 100,000 dollars. And he’s got competition... his boss, among many others. One of our CIs overheard Mehregan telling other members of the gang that he’s going to kill you himself if no one else does. There’s a race on to see who kills you first!”

  Paul smiled.

  “Did I miss something?” Ken asked. “Forgive me for saying so, Paul, but I don’t find this the least bit amusing.”

  “Look, Ken, there are a whole bunch of people plotting to kill me,” Paul said. “That’s an opportunity to get those hoodlums off the street once and for all. Why don’t we set up a sting operation to draw both of them out from underground... using me as bait?”

  “That’s out of the question!” Ken said. “Absolutely out of the question.”

  ***

  The Next Afternoon

  St. Thomas’ Hospital

  Paul and Ken entered the room where Jason Malik was regaining consciousness. Two heavily armed MPS constables were guarding the door.

  The human form Paul saw lying in the bed startled him. It was almost unrecognizable, made even more difficult by the multitude of bandages covering Malik’s head, chest and arms, and by several tubes and wires leading away to an impressive array of pulsing monitors.

  “Y’all come to gloat?” Malik managed to ask. His eyes were half open. His injuries made it difficult for him pronounce the word ‘gloat’.

  “Hardly,” Paul said, noticing that Malik’s jaw had been wired in place.

  Must have been broken in the assault, Paul thought.

  “Mr. Malik, I’m Chief Superintendent Ken Hagerman,” Ken said. “I’m with the Metropolitan Police Service.”

  Malik stared at Paul and Ken.

  “Did Izad Rajavi do this to you?” Ken asked.

  Malik’s eyes opened slightly more, showing anger. He nodded.

  “He and others,” he said. His words were muffled and slurred.

  “How many others?” Ken asked.

  Malik shrugged and flinched in pain. He showed them three and then four fingers and then three.

  “Looks like Rajavi had every intention of killing you,” Ken said. “We can help you get even.”

  Malik glanced first at Paul and then at Ken. He looked away for a few seconds before turning back and nodding.

  “I have another question for you,” Paul said. He glanced at Ken, who nodded with his eyes.

  Malik looked at Paul warily.

  “Were you involved in the murder of Ahmed Mousavi?” Paul asked.

  Malik closed his eyes. Paul watched his breathing become shallow and faster. Malik took a deep breath. He nodded. Paul was surprised to see a sad look in his eyes.

  “Not proud,” Malik managed to say. “Shouldn’t have. Innocent.”

  “Who else was involved?” Ken asked.

  “Told cops,” Malik said wearily.

  Malik was tiring. Paul and Ken weren’t surprised. The ICU nurse had confirmed that in addition to being beaten, he’d been shot three times, one bullet ending up close to his heart. His injuries included a severe concussion, a broken jaw, a compound fracture of his left forearm and three broken ribs. His face and body also appeared to have been severely beaten.

  “A couple more questions and we’ll leave you to rest,” Ken said. “Okay?”

  Malik nodded slightly.

  “This man Izad Rajavi,” Ken began. “Was he involved in the murder of Ahmed Mousavi?”

  “Yes,” Malik said. The word came out “Esh”. “Met in bar. Never saw before. At table, drinkin’ soda. Rajavi hates kooks. Muslims... all terrorists he sez.”

  “Are
you referring to Ahmed Mousavi as the man in the bar having a soda?” Ken asked.

  “Yes,” Malik slurred. Again, the word came out “Esh”.

  “Isn’t Rajavi a Muslim?” Ken asked.

  “Naw,” Malik said.

  His eyes closed. Paul looked at Ken. Both wondered if Malik had drifted off to sleep. A few seconds later, his eyes popped open.

  “Rajavi ring leader,” he said. “Shudda said ‘No’. I wuz drunk. Wanted shum fun.”

  “Was a third person involved in Ahmed Mousavi’s murder?” Paul asked.

  Malik nodded. He raised one finger on his right hand.

  “That makes three, correct?” Ken asked.

  Malik nodded again.

  “Who was it?” Paul asked.

  Malik closed his eyes again. Paul and Ken stood beside his bed waiting patiently.

  “Martin,” Malik said without opening his eyes. “Martin Semaka.”

  “One last question,” Ken said. “Were you in London to avoid getting caught for this murder?”

  “Esh. Goin’ to Pakishan. Izad promished help. Gave him money.”

  Malik’s eyes closed.

  “Thank you for your information,” Ken said.

  Paul and Ken walked out.

  In the hallway, Ken turned to Paul, “I’ll pass all of this along to my contacts in the FBI right away. They’ll want to speak with Semaka.”

  “As I understand it,” Paul replied. “Martin Semaka is the son of a Hawkins County commissioner, who’s also a prominent businessman.”

  “I’ll pass that along too.”

  “One other thing,” Paul said. “I suspect there may be a few more wrinkles in all of this… big ones.”

  “What would those be?”

  “For one, local law enforcement,” Paul said. “The sheriff’s department to be specific. The investigation into Ahmed’s death left me uneasy... wondering actually.”

  “What do you have in mind?” Ken said. “As you know, I have obligations under international law to arrest and to report to their home law enforcement all international fugitives like Malik.”

  “Yes,” Paul said. “Here’s the issue. After Ahmed was murdered, the local sheriff charged Ahmed’s business partner, Isaac Dietrich, with murder. A sheriff’s deputy shot him... accused him of resisting arrest. Isaac’s fiancée was there. She was charged with accessory to murder. Isaac had an ironclad alibi; when he wasn’t with her, he was with us. All charges were dropped. A few days later the sheriff announced that Ahmed’s death was a suicide. Impossible! Ahmed’s right arm was broken and he’d been savagely beaten. There’s no way he could have hung himself. The sheriff also claimed that the medical examiner’s autopsy confirmed it. I tracked down the ME in Kingsport and spoke with him on the phone. He told me he’d made no such finding; he’d ruled Ahmed’s death a homicide. Now, the ME’s report to the sheriff has mysteriously disappeared.”