“No, but he stands to lose a lot if his claims don't pan out,” Chet said.
Marcus started typing in the information. He waited
“Wow check out these e-mails,” he said.
“Download those and print them,” Chet said.
“Take a look at this. All of the correspondence is between Gene and Cyprus. There's no other party. It's essentially Gene negotiating with Cyprus for the job of murdering Jack,” Marcus said. “And according to the financial records $50,000 was transferred into a Cayman Islands account in Cyprus' name the day Jack Raven was killed. Another $25,000 was deposited in the same account yesterday. Maybe that was for the planned hit on Haley,” he added.
“The evidence points directly at him. Why would Cyprus give us information that implicates him? And we know where he was when Jack was killed. We were talking to him,” Chet asked.
“I remember, but everything here points to him,” Marcus said.
“Someone's trying to cover their tracks,” Chet said.
“The Ghost,” Marcus said.
“Has to be. Check out those IP addresses,” Chet said.
“Uh, they're all through the U.S. Department of Agriculture offices - Atlanta, Chicago, Dallas, Oklahoma City, Omaha, and Richmond,” Marcus said.
“It's impossible to track him. He covered his tracks well,” Marcus said.
“Go back to the messages between Gene and Cyprus,” Chet said.
“Well, well, well. Look at this. An offer of $25,000 to eliminate you and your family,” Marcus said.
“And an acceptance in that one,” Chet said pointing to the e-mail that simply read, “I'll handle it.”
“We've got him on conspiracy and attempted murder with the planned hit against Haley,” Marcus said.
“And we'll nail him on it if he can't produce something that will give us Gene and the Ghost,” Chet said.
“I think we have enough on Gene,” Marcus said.
“But I want the Ghost too,” Chet said.
“Look, I know you've chased this guy for a long time but do you think it's possible that maybe the man you're chasing isn't who you think? What I mean is, what if the actual Ghost hung it up or died a long time ago and over the years more than one person has filled that role for the Ravens?” Marcus asked.
“Well yes, that's possible but why would you think it's a different person?” Chet asked.
“You've kept up with what you believed were hits the Ghost carried out for the better part of three decades. How many times did he carry out more than one job in the same location? You would know more than me but it just doesn't add up for a man to change his habits so radically after so many years of successfully escaping,” Marcus said.
Chet thought it over.
“You might be right but we still have a shooter out there and I mean to catch him too, not just the guy who bankrolled the killing,” Chet said.
***
Cyprus sat on the interrogation room. He knew he was being watched. He tried to remain as composed as possible but on the inside he seethed. Someone betrayed the mission. All night long he thought of who could have done it and why. Then it all became clear.
The Ghost.
Driven by jealousy, greed, or some other unknown reason, the Ghost interfered. Cyprus could feel his swollen left eye throbbing and the broken teeth in his mouth ached, not to mention taking a deep breath was impossible.
That big hillbilly damn near killed him. A highly trained security specialist and a master in almost all forms of self-defense and he allowed himself to get caught flat footed. Cyprus felt like a fool.
Every fiber of his being screamed for revenge but he had to be smart. Payback had to wait. He still had a weapon but he couldn't get to yet. Escape was still possible as long as he chose the time and place.
Gene had to be warned. They needed to follow the contingency protocol he put in place in the event the assassination attempt failed or someone figured it. With Gene's money they could flee the country for refuge in a non-extradition treaty nation. Sure Gene's dream was dead but that was better than the two of them being dead.
From their new home they could plan their revenge and it would be sweeter than sweet.
“Hey! Hey!” Cyprus yelled and then grimaced.
“I know you're watching and listening,” he said more calmly. “I need to go to the bathroom. Please, I'm in a police station and I have broken ribs. Where am I going to go? Please,” Cyprus begged.
Deputy Doug Cobb and Officer Phil Travis of the Stone City PD entered the room.
“Officers please. My stomach is cramping bad. Please, just a quick bathroom break is all I'm asking,” Cyprus said.
Doug looked at Phil.
“Keep your gun on him at all times,” Doug said.
“Doug, why don't we wait for Chet?” Phil asked.
“He ain't going nowhere. C'mon tough guy, let's get this over with,” Doug said as he helped Cyprus struggle to his feet.
They went about twenty feet from the interrogation room to the men's room.
“Would you mind?” Cyprus asked, holding his hands as high as could being shackled at the waist.
“Not a chance,” Doug said.
“Okay, then I'll leave paper work to you,” Cyprus said.
Doug considered his words and then turned to Phil.
“If he makes a move, kill him,” he said.
Doug unlocked the cuffs.
“And we're going in with you,” he said as he pulled his revolver.
“Okay, just let me go in,” Cyprus said calmly.
The three men stepped into the men's room and Cyprus went to the end stall, shuffling along in his shackled legs.
“You've got five minutes,” Doug said as he and Phil stepped back from the stall.
Cyprus lowered his pants and sat down. With his pants around his ankles, he reached down to the heel of his left shoe. A compartment opened on the narrow hollow heel and he pulled out a small sealed plastic bag. Cyprus carefully tore open the bag and removed three composite metal flat darts. Each dart was tipped with lethal poison.
He placed the darts back in the bag and put them on top of the toilet paper dispenser.
“I don't hear anything?” Doug said.
“I'm trying. I guess it was a false alarm,” Cyprus said.
After pulling up his pants and flushing, he stepped out of the stall with a dart wedged between his index and middle finger.
“Mind if I wash my hands?” Cyprus asked.
“Go ahead, but be quick,” Doug said.
He didn't have time to respond to the quick flick of the wrist. The dart hit him in the left side of his throat and he dead almost instantly.
As he was falling to the floor, Phil saw him. That split-second distraction was all Cyprus needed. Another dart flicked and this buried in Phil's chest. Like his fellow officer, he too was dead before his body hit the gray and black tile.
Cyprus used the handcuff key Doug carried on his belt to take off his remaining shackles. He then picked up the .357 revolver that belonged to Doug and an almost identical revolver that Phil gripped. He had to pry it from his cold, dead hand. He also stripped Phil of his black jacket and put it on. Cyprus zipped it to cover his shirt. After checking the hall, he quietly made his way out of the back of the courthouse.
Amazed that he was unseen, he found Phil's SCPD cruiser. The door was unlocked. Cyprus got in and hotwired it. The pain in his ribs was nearly blinding. He calmly backed up and starting driving toward the Raven's Nest.
Chuck decided to drive by Beau's house and see if there was a police presence there. If anyone died there, the place would likely be crawling with police officers. That would remove any doubt. If he drove by and saw nothing...well, he would still be wondering but he would still have hope.
He turned onto the road, careful to obey the speed limit. His eyes scanned both sides of the road. So far, no blue lights loomed in the distance. He slowed down a little as he approached Beau's cabin. He s
aw the navy blue Bronco parked in the driveway and two people - a man and a woman standing next to it.
It was Beau and the pretty Garrison woman. Chuck couldn't resist. He simply stopped in front of the house and rolled his window down.
“Excuse me, I know this might sound like a rather strange question, but I understand you're a police officer,” Chuck said as he watched both move their hands to their weapons.
“Shut off the engine and step out of the vehicle slowly sir,” Beau said.
Chuck complied and stepped out with his hands in plain sight.
“Perhaps I should explain,” he said.
“I think maybe you'd better,” Beau said as he eyed the big man with the silver hair and goatee.
“My name is Dr. Chuck Eastland. I made a down payment on the empty house across the street today,” he said. “I can show you my I.D. if you'd like.”
“You do that and again doctor, very slowly.
Chuck retrieved his wallet from inside his jacket and handed his driver's license over to Beau.
“Illinois huh?” Beau asked.
“Yes, I'm going to be teaching history at Baker Community College. I start next week,” he said.
“What are you doing out so late Dr. Eastland?” Haley asked.
Chuck got a good look at her. Not only was she a beauty, there was something in the way she carried herself that reminded him so much of Trish. So much so, he couldn't help but grin.
“At the moment, I'm feeling rather foolish,” he said as he detected a faint smile from her. “When I was looking at the house today, the real estate agent, Lynn Abbot told me you are a police officer - I'm assuming you live here?” Chuck asked.
“I do,” Beau said.
“I thought it was a wonderful thing because of the added safety. Anyway, I heard there had been a shooting in this neighborhood and that a couple of officers were dead. I couldn't sleep until I found if this was the neighborhood I was moving to,” Chuck said.
“There was some trouble earlier but the perpetrators have all been taken of so I wouldn't worry, Dr. Eastland,” Beau said as he handed the license back to him.
“That is good news. I'm sorry to have been a bother, Officer?” Chuck asked.
“Fulbright. Beau Fullbright. This is Haley Garrison,” he said.
“I'm pleased to meet you both. I'm sorry it's under such circumstances. And if it's okay with you, I'll be on my way now. My fears have been allayed,” Chuck said.
Haley smiled. Chuck noticed the way his son looked at her and the way she looked at him. They were in love. He felt the warmth of a father's pride.
His son inherited his good taste.
“Certainly, have a good night,” she said.
“And drive carefully Doctor,” Beau added.
He's still suspicious. Good for him, Chuck thought.
He got into his Bronco and backed into the driveway across the street, cut his wheels, and went back in the direction he had just come from.
Chuck was relieved the media reports were wrong. He was estatic that he got to speak to his son for the first time. But something nagged at him. Why was the media reporting that two officers died when he just spoken to the two allegedly deceased officers?
“Smokescreen,” Chuck answered himself.
Thurman obviously wanted someone to think the hit succeeded. He was setting a trap and waiting for Gene to step into it. Chuck knew where he needed to go next.
Beau used a private channel to run a check on Chuck's license plates.
“Registered to Adam C. Eastland of 141 Market Street, Clinton, TN. Clean record,” the dispatcher said.
“Maybe he's for real,” Beau said.
“Of course he's real. You think he was a ghost or something?” Haley teased.
“You know what I mean,” he said.
“He certainly acted like a college professor,” she said.
“I'll agree with you there,” Beau said.
“Did you notice anything else about him?” Haley asked.
“He's a big guy and in pretty good shape for his age,” he said.
“You didn't see it?” She asked.
“See what?” Beau asked.
“I don't know, it just looked like you two could be related,” Haley said.
Beau chuckled.
“That's impossible,” he said.
“Are you sure you don't have any long lost Yankee relatives?” She teased.
“I'm pretty sure I'd remember something like that,” he said. “Let's get going before more people come by and want to talk.”
***
When Chet and Marcus got back down to the interrogation room, they saw the open door.
They pulled their weapons and ducked around door, Marcus going high and Chet going low.
Empty.
“Where's everybody at?” Marcus asked with a worried whisper. Two deputies were walking up the hall.
“Where's the prisoner?” Chet asked.
“Doug and Phil escorted him to the bathroom,” the first deputy said.
“They what?” Marcus asked.
“The prisoner was complaining with stomach cramps,” the second deputy said.
“How long ago was this?” Chet asked urgently.
“Five, ten minutes ago,” the first deputy said.
Marcus bolted for the men's room door. He kicked it open and Chet ducked in low. He saw the bodies and a sick feeling.
“Two officers down!” He yelled.
“Get an ambulance we got two down,” Marcus yelled as Chet checked each stall.
“No ambulance. Get Doc Short. And send out an APB, our prisoner has escaped,” Chet said.
***
Cyprus pulled up to the gate in the cruiser and stepped out. A guard recognized him.
“Boss? Are you okay? You look like hell,” the guard said.
“Open the gate and get me up to the house. And get rid of this car,” Cyprus said.
Three minutes later he was knocking on Gene's door.
Gene answered the door half-asleep.
“D.C.? You gave them the slip. Excellent. I want to see that video,” he said as he started waking up.
“There is no video. There was no killing. The mission went balls up. They took Liam alive and he ratted out everyone. They know it was you behind tonight's failure but they also know it was you behind Jack's death. And somehow, they've found about Monique. They know who she is and Thurman is going to reveal at a press conference in a few hours,” Cyprus huffed.
Even in the darkness, he could see the color leave Gene's face. He was ruined. Forget losing the Senate seat. His reputation as ruthless was over. Even Dal wasn't aware of who Monique was and when he found out...Gene couldn't even contemplate what he would offer in the way of a response.
“We've got to get away from here now. They'll be here before long. Time is running out,” Cyprus said urgently.
Gene was still in shock and unable to speak. For the first time in his life, he understood grief.
Cyprus shook him as hard as his tender ribs would allow.
“Listen to me! We've got to go! They'll arrest both of us but Thurman will put you in display like a monkey in a cage. Your past will come out - all of it. We have to leave now!” He growled.
“How did...how could you fail?” Gene asked with a distant voice.
“They had help. Somebody took me out with a blow to the head. Liam's team came in too soon and got cut to ribbons. They had me but I escaped I could warn you. And now, we have to leave,” Cyprus said.
“And where would we go?” Gene asked as if suddenly incapable of thought.
“For the moment, anywhere but here,” Cyprus said.
Gene looked at him blankly.
“You've got private estates from here to Florida. We can hide out at any of them until the heat dies down and then we can sneak out of the country. El Salvador, Columbia, even the Caymans. Please sir, we have to move now,” Cyprus said. “I might have bought us some time but not much.�
��
Gene nodded numbly.
“It's all gone,” he said in a raspy whisper.
“No! You still have big money and that can keep us free,” Cyprus said. “Call your pilot to fire up the chopper. He can airlift us to your private airport in Claiborne County we can take the jet and go under radar. It's the only way you'll be able to get revenge,” Cyprus pleaded.
The word “revenge” seemed to light a fire in Gene's eyes.
“Call the pilot. I want wheels up from Claiborne County in forty-five minutes. Take the laptops and a few changes of clothes. We'll buy a new wardrobe when we get to where we're going. Once we're in the air we'll start planning our payback,” he said.
“I'm on it,” Cyprus said as he hurried away as quickly as he could.
***
Chuck used another log road — this one on the backside of the property. He hiked up the small ridges and spurs, lugging the .30-06. His night vision goggles were helpful to a point. Heavy fog had started rolling in off of the Chenoa River. The hills were quickly being blanketed and visibility was going from bad to almost nonexistent.
To make matters worse, a cold steady drizzle had started. The fog kept the temperatures from falling any lower than the upper thirties but it was chilly.
The .30-06 was better than many bolt action rifles. The Steyr was a professional sniper rifle but he used that in shooting Jack Raven. It wouldn't be good to use it again and have a ballistics test prove he stuck around.
As Chuck worked his way down the hills toward the fence surrounding the property, he could see a little better. The fog was thinner closer to ground level.
One thing he could clearly see was that the fence was a problem. Armed guards patrolled the other side and security cameras would catch him ever if he tried climbing over. If he could find a transformer he could take it out with his handgun but the estate was so large and sprawling it was sure to have a backup generator so the only thing he would accomplish would be losing the element of surprise.
Chuck settled down behind a nearly bare briar thicket. He had to think. A noise off to his left got his attention. A gate opened up and two black-clad guards stepped. He could hear their conversation.
“Yeah, Flagg said the boss looked like someone beat the living hell out of him,” the first guard said.
“I can't imagine the boss getting his ass kicked,” the second guard said.
Assassin's Redemption: Stolen Memories, #1 Page 30
