The Dark Trail

by J. C. Fields

  “Such as?”

  “You’d just have to look at it. I find it repugnant to discuss. But suffice it to say, there’s a lot of it and it’s very violent.”

  With a slight smile, Kruger glanced at his friend. “You used to be a denizen of the dark web, if I remember correctly.”

  “Yeah, but never those types of chat rooms.”

  “Do you think you can find him in one?”

  With a shrug, JR sat behind his desk. “Don’t know. Maybe.” He paused and looked up. “What happens if I do find him?”

  “Once you’ve located him, I send in the Cavalry.”

  JR glanced at the clock and date displayed at the bottom right side of his middle monitor. “Your birthday is two days away. Got any plans?”

  “Steph and I are going to have dinner at our favorite restaurant. It’s just another day, JR. No big deal.”

  “Right…”

  Chapter 18

  Springfield, MO

  Two Days Later

  Kruger stared at the empty wine glass in front of him on the white tablecloth. Stephanie continued their conversation but he concentrated on the emptiness of the stemware.

  She stopped and frowned. “You’re not listening to me, are you?”

  He looked up. “Of course, I’m listening to you.”

  “Sean Kruger, don’t lie to me, you’re horrible at it. Tell me what I said.”

  He blinked a few times. “I was listening. I just didn’t hear what you said.”

  She reached for his hand and squeezed it. “Where were you?”

  He held up the wine glass in his free hand and nodded at it. “I was thinking about how empty this glass is. How only minutes before it had a purpose. To hold my wine. Now, it’s empty, useless and taking up space on the table. Kind of the way I feel today.”

  “We’re all getting older. Birthdays can make us melancholy at times.”

  “I know, but that’s not it. It’s something else.”

  She gave him the smile he’d fallen in love with the first time they met. “Is that something your retirement?”

  With a grim smile he nodded. “I know I’ve retired a couple of times. But deep down inside I knew I could always go back to the agency if I wanted to.” He paused and shook his head. “This time it’s different. I can’t go back.”

  Without responding, she took his hand in both of hers and touched her cheek with it. “We both know there’s nothing I can say to make you feel better so I won’t try.”

  Their waitress stopped at the table. “Have you two made your selections for dinner?”

  Kruger shook his head and held up his wine glass. “Not yet, but I would appreciate it if you could give this wine glass a purpose again.”

  Stephanie chuckled and the waitress tilted her head and pursed her lips. “Beg your pardon?”

  “Sorry, I’ll have another glass of wine. Then we’ll order.”

  ***

  After picking up their children at Brian Kruger’s house, Sean and Stephanie returned home and got the kids settled for the night. As the time approached eleven, Kruger was already in bed with his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling. He could hear Stephanie, still in the bathroom, humming to herself.

  He got out of bed, closed the bedroom door and slipped back under the sheets. When she emerged, she wore a long sheer nightgown that allowed light from the bathroom to perfectly outline everything underneath. She glanced at the closed bedroom door and smiled. With the bathroom door shut, two battery operated flameless candles provided the only illumination in the room. In the soft glow of the light, she pulled back the covers, lay down next to him and snuggled.

  Kruger wrapped his arm around her shoulders, kissed her forehead and said, “I like what you’re wearing, but I wonder how long you think you’ll keep it on.”

  “Not long—I hope.”

  ***

  Kruger’s mood appeared noticeably brighter the next morning. On his first full day of retirement, he made breakfast for the kids while Stephanie got ready for a faculty meeting at the university. She would return before ten and the family would travel thirty miles south to Silver Dollar City near Branson, Missouri for an afternoon outing.

  At nine-thirty-seven a.m. a UPS truck stopped in front of Kruger’s house and the driver walked to the front porch with a small padded envelope in his hand. After ringing the doorbell, he didn’t walk back to his truck like normal. When the second ring sounded, Kruger went to the front door and experienced a momentary twinge of concern because the driver remained on the porch. Through the glass storm door, he saw the normal driver assigned to the route. He held the package up and said, “I need a signature, Sean.”

  After opening the door, he took the tablet-like object and signed his name where the driver indicated. As he handed it back, he said, “This is kind of unusual isn’t it, Jerry?”

  The driver shrugged. “Happens once in a while for important deliveries. It always puts me behind.”

  Kruger took the package and then watched the driver hurry back to his truck.

  After closing the storm door, Kruger glanced at the shipping label. The return address was Joseph Kincaid’s residence in Arlington, VA.

  Curiosity grew as he took the package back to his office on the western end of the house. It opened easily and after peering inside, he smiled.

  Several objects were inside—an ID wallet, a badge mounted on a thick leather badge holder with a steel spring loaded clip on the back, a laminated ID badge with lanyard and a letter. Kruger examined the badge. It looked similar to his FBI one, including the words SPECIAL AGENT across the bottom. In the center was stamped the seal of Homeland Security with a U on the left and an S on the right. Across the top he saw the words; Homeland Security.

  He opened the letter and read the following:

  By Order of the President of the United States.

  The position of Homeland Security Special Agent has been bestowed upon retired FBI Agent Sean Kruger for the specific purposes of investigating crimes committed against the United States that are deemed outside the normal jurisdiction of the FBI, DOJ, Secret Service, US Marshal and any other law enforcement agency within the United States.

  It is hereby also determined that the National Security Advisor will have oversight of this new position and provide details of these investigations to the office of President of the United States.

  The holder of this office shall be afforded the cooperation of all agencies under the auspices of Homeland Security.

  So bestowed by order of the President of the United States this day:

  Below the proclamation, Kruger saw the signature of President Roy Griffin and the date the order had been signed. He also noticed there was no ending date. A small grin appeared as he reread the letter. He would have to talk to Joseph about the details, but the declaration seemed overly broad.

  He opened the ID wallet and read his new title—Special Agent in Charge. He realized the picture on the ID was the same picture taken on his last trip to the J. Edgar Hoover building for his retired FBI agent ID.

  He felt a presence behind him.

  “What’s that?”

  Turning to see Stephanie standing in the doorway of his office, he said, “You’re home early.”

  She shrugged and walked up next to him. He handed her the letter.

  He remained silent as she read. When finished, she smiled. “Shall I kneel before you, oh great important, one?”

  With a chuckle, he showed her the badge.

  “Looks impressive.” She paused. “So, exactly what does this mean, Sean?”

  “It means I’ve been given carte blanche to find Dorian Monk.”

  ***

  The trip to Silver Dollar City, while fun and exciting for the kids, left everyone exhausted. After arriving home, Kristin and Mikey offered no resistance at bedtime. They were tucked away and asleep by eight-thirty. Afterward, Stephanie retreated to her and Kruger’s bedroom to read, while Kruger took the opportunity to
sit at his home office desk and check emails. Halfway down the list he found one from Joseph asking him to call him at his first convenience. Noting the time of the email, he glanced at his watch. Still early for Joseph. He found Joseph’s number in his contact list and made the call. It was answered on the third ring.

  “How was the first day of your retirement?”

  “Exhausting. Took the kids to Silver Dollar City.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  Kruger frowned; Joseph’s tone did not possess its normal upbeat rhythm. “What’s the matter, Joseph?”

  “Nothing. It’s been a long day.”

  “I can call back tomorrow.”

  “Nonsense. You’re already on the phone.”

  “What did you want to talk about?”

  “Your new status.”

  “Ahh… Any problems?”

  “Nope, not in the long term.” He paused. “Short-term, maybe.”

  Chuckling, Kruger said, “Let me guess, a turf-war erupted.”

  “Yes, unfortunately. Homeland Security Secretary Joan Watson found out about your appointment and is demanding you report to her. The president told her, in no uncertain terms, that wasn’t going to happen.”

  “Well, that settles that little skirmish.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Joseph, you know I don’t like getting involved with the palace intrigue.”

  “I don’t think you’ll have to. But if she whispers into the ears of Senator Jordan Quinn, things could heat up.”

  Kruger was quiet as he realized his newfound position might be the source of problems for the president. “I thought he was a friend of the president.”

  “As Truman said, if you need a friend in Washington, get a dog.”

  “Try to keep me out of it.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “So, now can I put the team together?”

  “Yes. Report to me and me alone. If anyone calls you, refer them to me.”

  “Got it. Looking forward to working with you again, Joseph.”

  “Me, too.”

  Chapter 19

  Laramie, WY

  After eight days in two different hotels in Laramie, Dorian Monk came to the conclusion he did not want to return to the mountain cabin yet. Since his departure from Covington, he’d found no evidence the FBI, or anyone else for that matter, knew his location.

  With the realization he did not need to return to the isolation of the mountains, Monk chose to rent an apartment. One on the western outskirts of town which would allow a fast exit toward his cabin should the need arise.

  Using Zillow, he found one featuring two bedrooms and a bath on the ground floor of a run-down complex just outside the town’s city limit. He arranged to meet the property manager.

  When the agreed upon appointment time came and went, Monk’s contempt for his fellow man increased. Unfortunately, the apartment’s location fit his needs perfectly—otherwise, he would have left. So, Monk leaned against the front of his Equinox and waited in the parking lot. Thirty minutes later, a dusty ten-year-old Ford F-150 parked next to his SUV. The driver stared at him for several moments before opening the door and lighting a cigarette.

  She appeared to be in her mid-fifties and stood as tall as she was wide. Her face displayed a permanent scowl. “You Chronos?”

  Monk nodded.

  “I don’t allow pets.”

  “Don’t have any.”

  “No loud parties.”

  “I don’t like people.”

  “How long do you want the place?” The lit cigarette darted up and down in her lips as she spoke.

  “What’s your shortest lease?”

  “Twelve months.”

  “Then I want the place for twelve months.”

  She tossed him a set of keys, which he caught with his left hand. “Help yourself. I don’t go into empty apartments with renters. The only one I have available is 3A. Bottom floor northwest corner.”

  He nodded and walked toward the building. When he opened the door his senses were assaulted by the stench of cat urine. He quickly looked around, decided he could do worse and returned to the parking lot.

  “How much?”

  “Three hundred cleaning deposit, seven-fifty per month if you pay by check, six-fifty if you pay with cash. Most of my renters pay with cash.”

  He nodded. “I take it you didn’t get a cleaning deposit from the last tenant.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Place smells like cat piss.”

  “Don’t allow pets.”

  He tossed her the key, which she grabbed out of the air. He said, “Go smell it yourself. You clean up the cat smell and I’ll rent the place.”

  She frowned and stared at him a moment. “Wait here. I don’t go into empty apartments with renters.”

  “You said that.”

  She did not respond and waddled toward the building. Five minutes later, she returned. “I’ll have the carpets shampooed. When do you want to move in?”

  “When they’re clean.”

  She had apparently lit anther cigarette while in the apartment, because the one now dangling from her lips had an impossible length of ash at the end. Monk expected it to fall at any moment. Taking it from her lips, she dropped it on the parking lot and crushed it out with the heel of her cowboy boot. “I’ll get the paperwork.”

  Two days later, a truck owned by a local secondhand furniture store unloaded its contents onto the newly shampooed and sanitized carpets of apartment 3A. Monk spent half the day arranging for utilities and internet service in the name of Timothy Chronos. He moved the small amount of clothing and personal items he’d brought from the cabin into his new space. As dusk turned to night, he opened his laptop and accessed the dark web.

  ***

  JR Diminski’s eyes snapped open. He glanced at the digital clock on his nightstand and saw it was two minutes past three in the morning. His cellular phone could be heard dancing on the mahogany top of the nightstand as it vibrated from an incoming notification. He put on his glasses and stared at the screen. Once he could focus on the display, he mumbled, “Shit.” After jumping out of bed, he practically ran to his home office.

  Mia opened her eyes, shook her head and rolled over. JR’s nocturnal notifications meant he had a snooper program active. Normal procedure when he worked with Sean Kruger.

  ***

  Jimmie Gibbs, Sandy Knoll and Kruger leaned over JR’s shoulder as he pointed to the middle monitor on his desk in the cubicle.

  “A CenturyLink Wi-Fi connection for a Timothy Chronos went active yesterday.”

  Knoll asked, “Where?”

  “Laramie, Wyoming. It’s in an apartment complex on the western-most city limits. The utilities for the apartment were transferred from the LLC that owns the building to T. Chronos the previous day.”

  Kruger crossed his arms. “How’d you find that?”

  “Once the Wi-Fi connection was discovered, it was just a matter of hacking into the utility company records.”

  With a nod, Kruger continued to study the monitor. “Anything else?”

  JR shook his head. “No.”

  Jimmie crossed his arms as he stared at the monitor. “If he’s in Laramie, the University of Wyoming is there. Do you suppose he is trying to get another teaching gig?”

  Knoll and Kruger looked at him with raised eyebrows. Knoll said, “It would be kind of tough with a nationwide BOLO out on him.”

  Kruger shook his head slowly. “It might not even be him, gentlemen. The nationwide BOLO is for Dorian Monk. We kept the other names he uses out of it. He’d have a hard time getting a job teaching under his real name. Any cursory background check would raise red flags. Plus, I doubt he has teaching credentials under his other alias.”

  With a nod, Jimmie said, “Yeah, there is that. But we have to remember this guy’s a loner. He vanished after leaving Covington and had to be somewhere. What if he owns a place in the mountains? Laramie is just east of
the Rocky Mountains.”

  JR stared at Gibbs and blinked several times. “Maybe.” He turned to his computer and started typing rapidly.

  Knowing JR would be in a zone for a while, the three other men poured cups of coffee and retreated to the conference room.

  Once seated, Kruger showed them his new ID and badge. “You two are still officially with the FBI, but on temporary loan to Homeland Security for a special task force. You keep your tenure and pay-grade.”

  Gibbs and Knoll nodded.

  “I, on the other hand, work for Homeland Security and report to Joseph.” Kruger grew quiet as he took a sip of coffee. He then said, “Guys, I’m not sure how long this investigation will last. I want both of you to know how much I have appreciated your experience and assistance over the past few years.”

  Knoll looked embarrassed and Gibbs smiled as he sipped his coffee. Neither responded.

  “That being said, I’m afraid we’re going to need to do a lot of traveling for the foreseeable future.”

  “Wyoming?” This from Knoll.

  A nod.

  Gibbs pursed his lips. “My uncle ran a hunting lodge in Montana. Before my sister…” He paused, swallowed hard and blinked several times. “My dad and I started going there when I was ten. I learned to shoot during those trips. Good times.” He paused again. “Wish Dad was still around. I’d like to have another trip with him.”

  Knoll asked, “Where in Montana?”

  “Northwest of Bozeman. The place was extremely remote. The reason I mentioned it, Dad felt the place was isolated enough that few, if anyone, would ever bother it. He kept copies of important papers there in a safe under the floor.”

  “Huh.” Kruger stared at the younger man. “If Monk has a cabin, maybe he does the same thing. Good suggestion, Jimmie.” Remaining quiet for a few moments, Kruger tapped his lips with an index finger. “I’d like both of you to head out to Laramie. Put the apartment building under surveillance and see if you can determine if this is our guy. I’ll have Clark meet you two out there so all of you can take shifts. If it is Monk, I’ll head that way. If he does have a cabin, maybe he’ll lead us to it.”