by Bob Blink
Jason nodded.
"We can grab his camper truck as well, and make certain it is seen in the appropriate areas, but if we are careful, I believe we can make Craig's death look like an unfortunate accident resulting from a lover's quarrel gone bad. There would be no reason for them to suspect she was the primary target all along."
"I'd need some time to sight in Bud's rifle before I could reliably make such a shot," Bo said. "I also doubt that he'd have the kind of rifle that would double as a true sniper rifle for long range shooting."
"We could take him and his guns a day or two before making the attempt," Jason agreed. "That would give us a chance to make certain any tests would show Bud had recently fired the weapons. As for options, he has a scoped .300 magnum bolt action and a nice AR-10 in .308. You've seen the area around the Craig estate. I think your shot would be around four hundred and fifty yards. There are too many homes to set up any closer, and the only open area on the patio side is about that far looking at Google Maps. There is a location at the front that is about two hundred and fifty yards, but that would require punching through glass, making it far less desirable."
"I think this might just be possible," Earl said, "but there are difficulties. There is no way that Bud would know where to find Craig and his wife when they are on the road. So it requires that Mrs. Craig comes back to California, and as you pointed out a while ago her schedule doesn't show that happening until after the convention."
"We'll have to provide an incentive for her to return," Jason said. "I suggest something results in harm to her husband. She'd come back for that, and it is the kind of thing our Bud might do in order to gain access to his wife. We might even use his truck. With Mr. Craig convalescing at home, Craig and her secretary would most likely be working at the house. I believe that would provide us with the opportunity we need."
"They'll be back there this weekend," Abe said, recalling the plans for the candidate to ride back to L.A. with her husband.
"Too quick," Jason and Bo said almost simultaneously. "There is too much preparation that needs to be done to make this come off right. There's a lot we need to look into and verify before we act. If we screw it up, we are out of chances."
"Let's get on a plane and look the area over first hand," Earl said. "We can probably decide whether it's possible or reject it out of hand while all these people are busy up here." Earl knew he'd owe the President another call, but he also knew he would wait until they completed a preliminary scouting, hoping that he could give his friend some good news for a change.
Chapter 13
Southern California
"I like this much better," Bo said, kneeling in the long grass scanning the house further down the hillside. "At least from the layout. We have easy access, quick in and out, some mounds that will shield us from view of other houses and the road, and a straight shot at the front of the Craig's house. It's also a close shot, just over two hundred and sixty yards."
"I think I hear a 'but' in there," Abe said as he knelt next to Bo's right side and scanned the rows of houses spread out below them, overlooking the Pacific Ocean.
Bo grinned. "There's always something, isn't there? This shot would have to be through the large front window of their living room. The glass would help justify why Bud Marshall would miss and strike the wrong person, but it also complicates the shot significantly. The glass is likely to deflect the bullet, and that means it is harder to be certain of accomplishing exactly what we want here, especially since Earl was saying I should take out our target when the two women are close to one another."
"Can't you take out the window and then make the killing shot?" Abe asked. "I've seen snipers do that in the movies."
"That would mean two shooters, which doesn't fit our scenario, or a rifle and shooter that can make multiple fast and accurate shots. Bud has the AR-10, but I was more inclined to think about the .300 magnum he has. That wouldn't work for what you are suggesting. As for the AR, we don't know that Bud has the skills to break the window and follow up immediately with a killing shot."
"That could be another reason that could explain his hitting the wrong target," Abe pointed out.
"Good point," Bo agreed. "I wish there was some means of finding out just what kind of a shooter he is. Jason says he can't find any record of him belonging to a shooting club."
"So, what about the back yard with the patio?" Abe asked. "You like that better then?"
"A much longer shot, almost four hundred and fifty yards, but clearly within the capability of the magnum, but again there's the question of Bud's abilities. There would be no obstructions, but getting in and out of the shooting spot could be more challenging, and I worry about being seen."
"So, which one?" Abe asked.
"Don't know," Bo admitted. "I'd like to see his gear. That might give me some insight into his skill level and help chose which approach would be more believable."
Bo stood up, and took half a dozen photos with his phone. He'd have to study the options carefully, and combine what he just saw with what he could get off the Internet. The Craig's were due back sometime today as well, and watching them would provide insight into where they would be most accessible, although nothing would be attempted during her stay in Southern California this weekend. They'd carefully placed a couple of bugs outside the house on windows that, if they were lucky, would provide them access to conversations in the living room and master bedroom.
"Let's go," Bo said. "I want to hear what Earl and Jason learned about Bud's house. Maybe we can bust in without him knowing."
Earl and Jason walked down the El Segundo residential street sandwiched between the beach and Pacific Coast Highway, formerly Sepulveda Boulevard, hoping to get a sense of the neighborhood, and Bud Marshall's house in particular. The neighborhood was above average for the town, although Bud was clearly on an effort to bring the rating of the area down a notch or two. What grass was left on his front lawn was dry and dying, and no effort had been made to keep the residence presentable. It showed a concentrated lack of care, although he hadn't yet had time to allow the residence to really degrade in unacceptability.
"I can bet his neighbors are concerned about property values," Jason said as they moved past the house they had scanned earlier on their drive by.
The house wasn't large, probably three bedrooms, with a large living room in the front. The front was open to the street with a perimeter of older trees that mostly blocked the house from the neighbors other than whoever lived directly across the street. What they could see of the backyard suggested it was even messier than the front, but it was enclosed by a five-foot high block wall, making a careful evaluation impossible. The garage was back there, accessible only by driving through a locked gate. Something about the setup and the oil stain in the driveway suggested that Bud didn't park the car inside very often. It was impossible to see inside the house. Not only were they too far away, but Bud kept the curtains drawn on every window except the kitchen which was off to the one side near the back with a view of the garage.
According to California DMV records, Bud drove a ten year old, gray Toyota Tundra. The vehicle wasn't present, but then it was mid-afternoon on a workday, and he was almost certainly at his machinist's job with one of the local aerospace firms.
"We'll need to follow him to get a sense of his daily habits," Jason suggested. "I'd really like to get inside and see what his place is like. We'll need to see how easy we can gain access to his firearms."
"I'm certain we could persuade him to hand them over, or break into whatever storage he has, but that ultimately wouldn't fit our narrative that he is the killer," Earl noted. "If he looks beat up or his place shows signs of burglary the cops are going to be suspicious."
"I think breaking in could be done without showing we'd been there," Jason replied. "Abe is more than a bit competent with locks and the like. This neighborhood is quiet enough that most residents are likely away at work just like Bud this time of day."
&nb
sp; "I like evenings, better," Earl countered. "The darkness would mask our moving around as we gain access. A couple of us could follow Bud, make sure he isn't likely to return unannounced, with Abe and probably Bo have a look inside."
"Tomorrow is Friday," Jason noted. "If he's the type to go out drinking after work to celebrate the weekend, that might be the time."
"What do you think?", Earl asked the assembled group later that night. They had rooms a few blocks away in one of the long-term motels that served consultants and other individuals who needed extended stay accommodations with more than a basic room offered by the motels.
"I want to have a look inside his place," Bo said. I'll need to get access to his guns and get them out to a range to see how they perform, at least the two I might want to use. That could be done while he is at work, but it would mean a daytime break-in or taking a chance he wouldn't notice them missing if we took them some night."
"He's a good candidate for what we have in mind," Jason added. "Carol has had to call the police on him twice since their breakup, and it's probably only the fact she's on the campaign trail with Mrs. Craig has kept the number that low. But we can't linger too long on this. This guy could do something that lands him in jail, or worst, that would take him out of play for us. Then we'd be stuck."
"It's too bad we can't act this weekend," Abe said, "while the Craig woman is here."
Jason nodded agreement.
"From what I get from the discussions between her and her husband, she doesn't have plans to return to the area until after the convention in July. That means we have to initiate something to bring her back. Too soon and it will seem odd, yet the longer we wait, the greater the chance we don't get this done."
"Let's see what we can do tomorrow night," Earl decided. "In and out without leaving a trace. Then Jason and I might head back to Texas, while you two keep an eye on him and learn his habits. Once we have a plan, we'll fly back in my plane and bring some of the gear that we can't carry commercial, and get this done." He looked at Bo and Abe while he was talking.
Abe smiled. He was tired of just watching people. Bo showed a hint of nervousness, but he was ready to get this business behind him as well. It was starting to look jinxed, and that didn't sit with his slightly superstitious nature.
"Clearly he sees house cleaning as an optional activity," Bo said as he and Abe moved down the hallway toward the bedrooms near the back of the house. Bud wasn't much of a cook, with used containers for various types of takeout scattered around the kitchen, some providing a feast for the small army of ants that seemed to be making a determined effort to take possession of the kitchen area. Getting in hadn't been difficult. The house had a standard residential lock available at any Lowes or Home Depot, and presented little challenge for Abe's breaking and entering skills. The house across the street was dark, so they hadn't needed to fear being seen during the few minutes they were visible on the porch.
Bud was also a reader, of magazines at least. They were piled everywhere. Gun and car magazines in particular, with a smattering of light porn mixed in. The chairs around his kitchen table were stacked high with them, and the table itself had a small area cleared for eating, but the rest was liberally covered with small piles of the literature.
The living room had appeared mostly unused as they passed through, with nice, but older furniture, and an old-fashioned tube television. They discovered that that Bud liked to watch TV from his bed, a large modern flat screen mounted crudely to one wall, clearly something he'd added after the split from his wife. One of the other two bedrooms was dusty, but unused, and the other clearly a storage place for empty boxes, discarded clothes, and whatever Bud couldn't find some place else to dump things.
The only gun they were able to find was an older, worn six-shot Colt Detective Special in a dog-eared holster by his bed stand. The belly gun was loaded with +P hollowpoints, not that they'd be that much more effective given the two inch barrel. They checked under beds, in every closet, including in the rooms that didn't appear to be used. Nothing suggested a clever hiding spot behind the walls.
"Guns must be outside in the garage," Abe suggested when their searches had failed to produce anything.
Jason nodded. "Let's have a look."
The garage was secured with a hefty Master padlock, again, something that looked intimidating, but wasn't the slightest test of their lock breaking skills. Like the house, every window was blocked off, which allowed them to turn on the lights once they'd closed the door behind them.
The garage was treated with more care than the house had been. It was very nicely arranged. In the center of the floor space was a wood table saw. Along the far sidewall was a radial arm saw, and a wood lathe along the wall where the car door to the garage was located, but which clearly had been blocked off. At the other end of the back wall was a large, professional metal lathe, set off by a milling machine set against the nearby sidewall. Tools and gear were carefully stored in bins or in racks against the walls close to the respective machinery. A pair of sturdy work benches were located in convenient work areas, with the larger bench housing a pair of reloading presses, a single station Bonanza with a .300 Magnum resizing die in place, and a progressive Dillon with a set of .45 ACP dies. A quick look in the cabinets above and the door covered shelves below showed reloading components and multiple green-colored military ammo cans filled with boxes of loaded ammunition.
"No gun safe," Abe noted.
Bo let his eyes scan the area again. He'd been so fascinated by the expensive tools he'd missed the fact.
"He's loading .45 ACP but we didn't find a pistol for that cartridge anywhere in the house," Abe pointed out.
"Maybe he has it with him," Bo suggested.
"At work?" Abe scoffed. "I don't think so."
"What about in here?" Bo asked walking over to a large steel chest squatting on the floor between the two lathes. He'd seen many like during his oil field days. They were used to store gear in at a job site. Heavy and therefore difficult to move, they were hard to break into, unless one knew a bit about locks. This one had the name KNAACK written across the front. "I doubt you'll find the lock a challenge."
Abe bent down and had a look. "Shit!" he said. "It's just a Master padlock stuffed in there."
"See what I mean," Bo said with a chuckle.
Abe had it open almost immediately. "Jackpot!" he said gleefully.
There were four long hard-body gun cases resting inside. Before checking, they took a couple of photos of the contents of the chest to mark the location of the contents. The cases revealed the .300 Magnum and AR-10 that they were looking for, along with an older Model 97 Winchester pump shotgun that had been reworked to almost new condition, and a Ruger 10-22 semiautomatic .22 that had seen considerable modification. A pair of smaller pistol cases revealed a Springfield Custom Shop compensated 1911 in .45 ACP, and a similar 1911 with a Marvel .22 conversion kit installed. Shooters glasses, electronic ear muffs, and a stack of marked targets made up the rest of the container's contents.
"If these are really his, there is no question he can shoot," Bo said, showing Abe a couple of marked up targets indicating groups made at 300 and 400 yards with the .300 magnum.
"What do you think of his guns?" Abe asked.
"I'd have to try them myself for a real assessment, but he has good gear. It looks like the magnum is his favorite and gets a great deal of use. The AR looks almost new. I'd guess he wanted one, but doesn't shoot it much. Maybe it's relatively new. We will have to ask Jason if he can tell when he purchased it. From what I've seen, he hasn't been reloading for it, and only has a case of factory ammo for it."
"Let's put things away. I think we've seen enough for now," Bo said.
As they put the rifles back, taking care to position them as they'd found them, Abe pulled one of the blank targets from the stack in the container. Bo raised an eyebrow as he did so.
"The targets all have the name of the range on them," Abe pointed out. "It might b
e interesting to see where he shoots and maybe have a look at how he does, and what he brings with him."
"Good thinking," Bo said as he set the locking latch and then pressed the padlock closed.
They stood up just as Bo's phone chirped softly.
"Yeah?" Bo said, seeing that it was Earl who was calling from his own burner phone.
"He just left the bar," Earl said softly. "Might be heading home. You should finish up and move out ASAP."
'We're done," Bo replied. "Perfect timing. See you back at the rooms."
Chapter 14
Sunday Morning
Washington, D.C.
White House
The President stood outside the thick, nearly soundproof, Plexiglas panels that would allow observers to monitor anyone shooting inside the new range once it became operational. It had been nearly three months since he'd raised the matter with CC, but then that was government efficiency. He could see the three lanes with their small booths at this end, and the angled bullet trap at the far end, at this point not painted or supported by the sand fill at the base. Most of the work was done, except for the finishing touches to make it look suitably presidential.
"I'm told it will be ready for you to try out within a week, or maybe ten days," the older Secret Service agent informed him as he stood looking into the construction area. He could have asked someone to get a key so they could go inside, but there was little point, and it would initiate a flurry of activity and bring others to interrupt his musings. Even in the White House, once outside the Presidential Quarters, the President was escorted. The single agent he could tolerate, but a herd of interlopers wasn't something he relished at the moment.
"Wish it were ready now," the President said, speaking the honest truth. "Firing a few rounds would help me focus." Even though the range idea had been a feint to allow him a reasonable reason for special conversations with CC, he was being honest about wishing he could spend a half hour or so testing out the new guns.
