Assassin's Redemption: Stolen Memories, #1

by Richard Allen Evans

  She looked over to him with a half-smile.

  “Want to get it over with huh?” Haley asked.

  Beau nodded.

  “I guess you could say that. I'd just like to know if we both have the same thing in mind,” he said.

  “Okay. You go first,” she said, still offering the half-smile.

  “Alright. I don't know what to call whatever we've had the past couple of days but I know this beyond a shadow of a doubt: I like it - a lot,” Beau said.

  Haley's eyebrows arched.

  “Go on,” she said.

  “I want more. Having someone to talk to, someone to listen to, someone to hold - I'm afraid you've spoiled me,” he said.

  “I've spoiled you?” Haley asked.

  “Don't laugh, but one of my favorite parts of last night was feeling your head on my chest as you slept. I rested easy just knowing you were there,” Beau said.

  “Is that why you played with my hair all morning?” She asked.

  “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to keep you up,” he said.

  “You didn't. It felt good. I felt safe. Feel free to do that anytime you want,” Haley said.

  Beau smiled.

  “So I guess I'm saying I don't care what we call it or who knows about us. As long as I'm with you, I'm happy. Besides, you're a great cook,” he said.

  She reached over and placed her left hand in his right hand.

  “Good answer Mr. Fullbright,” Haley said. “Let's just let things happen as they happen and see where that takes us.”

  Beau squeezed her hand.

  “That sounds good to me,” he said.

  It was roughly four o'clock and the sun was already starting its descent in the west. Light was still plentiful and Adam had his night scope if he should need it.

  The afternoon had been peaceful and a fine location considering the view of the river and the colorful mountains. The smell of the dead and dying leaves combined with the rich black soil wafted in the air. It made him feel at ease; almost at home even.

  Strange for a kid from the Northwest side of Chicago. If he could wrap things up quick enough maybe he could be back in time to see the Bears play Green Bay on Monday night at Soldier Field.

  He used his spotter scope to look around the grounds and the house one more time. In the second floor library he saw movement. Several people were milling about. The doors of the library opened and five men stepped out onto the balcony. Some were smoking cigars and all were carrying some type of drink. None of them was the target. But he could feel it wouldn't be much longer as his heart rate increased and he could feel the adrenaline starting to boil.

  ***

  Gene had just finished a meeting with five men who could put the election into the history books:

  Randall Madison, chairman of the Tennessee Republican Party; Cecil Bartlett, publisher of the Nashville Tribune; Peter Garfield, publisher of the Memphis Daily Press; Grayson Condit, publisher of the Knoxville Times-Union; and Edison Hanratty, owner and CEO of EHC Communications, the largest radio chain the state.

  He promised them access as never before when Jake got to Washington and even pledged sizeable donations to the pet charity of each organization. The meeting went very well and Gene was satisfied with the mood and the discussion. Cyprus entered the room and Gene ushered them out to the balcony, promising Jack would be out soon.

  “What's the deal with Jack?” Gene asked.

  “He's on his way now,” Cyprus said.

  “Is he still miffed about his girlfriend?” Gene asked.

  “I believe he is,” Cyprus answered.

  “What? Is he going to have me shot?” Gene asked with a chuckle.

  Cyprus only smiled and shook his head. Gene noticed the coldness in his eyes.

  Jack entered the room.

  “Whose ass do I have kiss now?” Jack asked as Gene pointed to the men on the balcony.

  “I have commitments from ever one of them. Now get out there and play your part,” Gene said.

  As the brothers were talking, Cyprus received a message through his earpiece. When Jack walked out Cyprus looked at Gene.

  “There's a problem. The local sheriff is apparently at the main gate attempting to serve a search warrant,” he said.

  “A search warrant? For what?” Gene asked in surprise.

  “It apparently has something to do with your brother and a murder investigation,” Cyprus said.

  “Damn! Get down there and stall them while I get Jack and a couple of attorneys together. And find out who the jackass judge was who signed the warrant,” Gene said.

  Cyprus hurried away and Gene set his shoulders and walked out calmly. In his mind he wondered how Jack had been implicated in a crime the Raven family was truly not involved.

  ***

  “You've got exactly one minute to open those gates and let us in before I start arresting people for obstruction of justice,” Chet said.

  “I'm sorry sir. My orders are to wait for my boss,” the guard said.

  Beau looked at him and the other security personnel. These weren't run of the mill rent-a-cops. Each man had the look of a combat veteran. Their eyes bore into him and his fellow officers. Beau noticed their weapons. Each guard carried an AR-15 as well as a semi-automatic 9mm pistol as a sidearm. He guessed the weapons were uniform for each guard.

  There was more guards watching them, unseen to the untrained eye. Beau was pretty sure that Chet knew. If a firefight developed, it wouldn't be a good day for the good guys.

  “Beau! Call for back up. We're going to start arresting people,” Chet said.

  “Sheriff please, there's no need for that,” said the smooth voice of a medium built man with dark eyes and closely cropped salt and pepper hair.

  “I'm D.C. Cyprus, head of security for the Raven family. How can I help you?”

  “The first thing you can do is open the gates and let me and my people serve a duly signed search warrant on Jack Raven,” Chet said.

  “May I see the warrant?” Cyprus asked politely.

  Beau didn't trust him. His manners were so slick they were almost distracting.

  “Keep an eye out but don't make it obvious,” he said quietly to Marcus and Haley. “We're outmanned and outgunned.”

  Marcus nodded as did Haley. Her eyes shifted to the wooded area to her right.

  “You're right Sheriff. Everything appears to be in order, right down to Judge White's signature,” Cyprus said.

  “I'm so glad you agree. Now open the damn gates and let us do our jobs,” Chet said.

  “Certainly Sheriff. We're pleased to cooperate with the authorities,” Cyprus said with an almost convincing smile. He turned and signaled for the gates to be opened.

  He started to say something else but the remark was forever stifled by the loud report of a lone gunshot in the distance.

  ***

  Adam saw another man step out onto the balcony. Through his spotting scope he watched him glad hand the other men. He watched their smiles and the friendly exchanges. A few seconds later another man walked onto the balcony. The assassin studied the scene before him. Target acquired.

  He carefully loaded the Steyr and placed in position on the top log in front of him. Through the scope he saw the target. Adam exhaled slowly and squeezed the trigger.

  He saw the .50 caliber round strike the man just above his left eye. Kill shot. A mist of blood and gray matter exploded as the body flew backwards from the impact and the victims' right shoe came off and flipped in the air.

  Mission accomplished — time to leave.

  Adam grabbed the spent shell casing and hurried down the ridge to his waiting truck. He placed the rifle in the seat and hastily covered it with a blanket he purchased from one of the shops in Clinton.

  He fired up the truck and drove at a normal speed to the highway. Luck was with him as nothing was in sight either way. He turned right and drove normally, making his way back to Knoxville.

  Adam checked the rearview mirror. Still
clear. He smiled. Sometimes it paid to gamble.

  ***

  Cecil Bartlett was talking advertising revenue with Grayson Condit, his fellow publisher. His description of what happened next became the ultimate account of the murder.

  “I saw his head explode like someone hit him with an invisible sledge hammer. A split-second later I heard the shot. I saw Edison Hanratty covered in blood and brains and a shoe flipping in the air as if someone threw it.”

  ***

  Cyprus jumped on an ATV and pulled out at break neck speed not doing the groundskeepers any favors with the large ruts he left on the carefully manicured grass. Armed men from all over the estate ran toward the main house.

  Chet jumped in the truck with Marcus.

  “Gun it and go!” He yelled as Marcus took off up the paved drive with Beau a couple of seconds behind him and the two patrol cars hot on his tail.

  Beau and Haley hopped out with guns drawn. They could hear yelling from the second floor balcony.

  “Call 911!” One man screamed while another yelled, “They shot him!”

  Beau and Haley followed the crowd inside, which included Cyprus, Chet, and Marcus. When Beau got through the open doors from the library to the balcony, he saw Gene Raven covered in blood and bits of brain tissue. Five men on the balcony in expensive suits stood in shock, with several weeping hysterically.

  “Oh my God! He's dead! He's dead!” Screamed a silver haired man with black rimmed glasses in a blood splattered gray suit. Beau was struck by how much the man resembled Barry Goldwater.

  “Why, dammit why?” An overweight man with thinning black hair cried.

  “Where did the shot come from?” Chet asked as the men continued to wail uncontrollably.

  “Fuck this!” Cyprus said as he grabbed Bartlett and shook him. “Where did the shot come from?” He screamed.

  Trembling almost violently, Bartlett pointed toward the ridge to his left.

  “Up there, I think,” he gasped. “Oh my God! Oh my God!” Bartlett repeated.

  “Beau!” Chet barked.

  “I'm on it!” Beau said as he started to take off for the stairs.

  “You, you, and you! Go with him!” Cyprus ordered three security men.

  “Wait! Keep everyone back until I see if I can find where the shots were fired from. If the shooter left tracks we don't need the scene compromised. I'll radio when I have something,” Beau said.

  Cyprus reluctantly nodded.

  “Okay! I want a perimeter right here. Form a wall in case somebody tries to take another shot!” He said.

  Haley looked at the tortured and bloody visage of Gene Raven and turned to Jack Raven, a man whose pale, ghastly grin would be forever etched on his face and in her memory. His funeral would no doubt be closed casket.

  ***

  It took Beau less than ten minutes to get to the top of the ridge. There were some light tracks and partial tracks but Beau doubted it would be enough to do any good. The assassin ran off in such a way that his touched the dead leaves and the ground was dry enough that no impression was deep enough to get much information. It was enough to lead down the backside of the ridge. He moved as quickly and carefully as he could with his .45 semi-automatic in his right hand. Beau found tires tracks but wondered how much good they would do. He walked the gravel and dirt road over the crest until he could see the highway. The vehicle, likely four wheel drive, was long gone.

  He holstered his weapon and returned to the crest of the ridge.

  As Beau huffed to catch his breath he noticed the lingering scent of gunpowder. The shot had been fired from the spot in front him, where the logs were strategically stacked.

  A trained sniper himself, he recognized the ideal spot when he saw it. Beau looked from the ridge to the balcony. It was the perfect location.

  He radioed his team.

  “I've found the sniper's nest. Marcus, I want you bring your gear up here. We need to secure this location and get some photos before dark. Haley, process the balcony,” he said.

  “I'm sending Marcus. Secure the location only. I repeat secure the location only. This is a federal case now. They'll boot us out as soon as they get here. Doc Short is on his way. We'll stay here and give our statements. We'll wait for you guys to get back before we take off,” Chet said.

  “Roger and out,” Beau said.

  ***

  Cyprus stood on the far side of the balcony and walked over to Chet.

  “I notified the FBI in Knoxville. As a former federal agent I'm sure you know they will of course have jurisdiction in this case. Your people can't work this scene,” he said.

  “They've already been ordered to stand down,” Chet said.

  “What about your man in the woods?” Cyprus asked.

  “He's been ordered to secure the location only and to provide a statement for the feds,” Chet said.

  “Aren't you worried that he will compromise the scene?” Cyprus asked.

  “My people know what they're doing. Besides, as a former Secret Service agent, you've bigger problems to deal with,” Chet said as the security looked surprised.

  “Yeah, you know about my background and I know about yours,” Chet said.

  Cyprus nodded curtly.

  “And as former federal agents we both know your search warrants are now invalid. This is a federal homicide case and that supersedes anything local,” he said.

  “You're right. But our case isn't solely based on those search warrants. We still have questions to ask unrelated to today's events,” Chet said.

  “I do hope you'll have the decorum and good taste to wait for a more appropriate time to ask those questions,” Cyprus said.

  “We'll wait. Who knows? We might find more questions to ask while we wait,” Chet said.

  “And now Sheriff, if you'll excuse me, I do have other duties,” Cyprus said.

  “Certainly,” Chet said as Haley approached.

  “That guy gives me the creeps,” she said.

  “He's a piece of shit - pardon my language,” Chet said.

  “After what we've seen and heard today, bad language is the least of my concerns,” Haley said.

  As Chet predicted, it was well after dark when the FBI took charge of the scene. They took the statements of local law enforcement and asked them to help provide a screen for the media.

  Chet ordered in several off-duty deputies to keep prying reporters and cameras at bay. As he and Haley were stepping off the stairway, he heard a familiar hacking cough.

  “Why are you here? My boy's dead. Ain't that enough for you?” Dal Raven rasped in anger from across the great room.

  “Mr. Raven, I'm sorry for your loss. Let's leave it there,” Chet said.

  “The hell I will!” Dal croaked out. “You've been after my boys for a long time. I figured you'd come out here to make sure Jack was dead. I'll bet you're sorry it's not Gene!”

  Chet tried to ignore him and took Haley by the arm to lead her away.

  “What's the matter? Worried about your family now? Afraid it's gonna come back on you? You keep messing with my family, I'll show you how sorry you can be!” Dal screamed.

  Chet stopped and turned slowly as Raven security men stepped in front of Dal swinging their assault rifles but not aiming them.

  Chet glared at them and then at Dal as federal agents looked on in curiosity.

  Dal laughed a throaty howl.

  “That girl with you. She's part of your family. Be damn shame if something happened to her,” he said with a nasty grin.

  Chet smiled.

  “I know you're a sick and grieving old man. From the sounds of things you're probably dying yourself, most likely from emphysema. I'm willing to let those threats you just made in front of federal agents slide. You have my profound condolences,” he said as he turned and left with Haley.

  Dal's response was muted by a coughing fit.

  ***

  Adam made it back to Clinton. He stopped along the side of the before he got int
o town and broke down his rifle and put it back in the bag. He walked into his apartment and put the bag on the table and placed the folded newspaper next to it.

  He went to his refrigerator and got a bottle of Pepsi and pulled a bag of chips from the cabinet. Adam turned the TV on to catch the fallout from the assassination of Jack Raven. As he sat on the couch, he tried to unwind after the rush of the kill.

  The reporter on the scene was set up close to a half-mile away from the main gate of the Raven's Nest. Adam turned the volume up on the TV.

  “...are promising a news conference as soon as possible but they have announced no timetable as to when that will be,” the pretty blonde woman continued, “As of right now the only thing that has been confirmed is that Jack Raven was struck down by an assassin's bullet while entertaining guests at his family home near Stone City. Butcher County Sheriff Chester Thurman left the estate just moments ago along with several other local officers. He had no comment and directed the media to speak with the FBI, who has jurisdiction in this case because it involves the murder of a U.S. Senate candidate,” she turned as if trying to hear something and then turned back to the camera. “And that's where things stand right now. Back to you Sandra,” she said.

  Adam turned the sound back down. If the FBI now had the case he was pretty much home free. His employer could control the investigation. Still, he thought it would be safe to ditch the truck in a nearby river or lake. He could pay cash for another ride. Maybe he would get an SUV. He hated getting rid of the F-150. It was a fine truck.

  For all practical purposes, his job was complete. But if he eliminated Thurman, well that was another - and perhaps final loose end taken care of once and for all.

  He took a sip of Pepsi. Thurman would need to be soon. Maybe while everyone was focused on Raven it would an ideal time to strike.

  Adam's CIA code name was “Ghost.” Somehow Thurman and Rayburn had found out his codename in 1968. Rayburn was dead and Thurman needed to join him. The knowledge of that codename needed to die.

  Adam returned the chips to the cabinet and threw away his empty bottle. He belched as he turned and saw the folded newspaper on the table. Picking it up, he carried it back the couch as he half-listened to the talking head on TV repeating the same lines over and over.