by J. C. Fields
“Yes, yes… That excuse is getting old. You don’t even look like you did back then. You wear glasses, your hair is shorter and you’ve gained a few pounds. Just go as JR; you have an excellent reputation. You don’t have to mention where you went to college.”
He turned around and looked at the computer screen again. “I would like to talk to him, but I doubt he would remember who I am. Besides, I might run into someone else I don’t want to run into.”
“JR, when are you going to stop worrying? Sean’s told you a thousand times, no one is searching for you.”
“I know, but still…”
She shook her head, turned, and walked off toward the stairs leading to their third-floor living area. JR stayed on the second floor and stared at the screen for a few more minutes. He started typing, making their reservations for the conference. Except for a brief vacation in Colorado several years ago, it would be his first out of town trip since arriving in Springfield. As he finished making the arrangements for their flight to Las Vegas, he thought to himself, “I guess if you can venture out from your inner demons, I can venture out from mine as well. See you in a few weeks, Stephen Blair.”
***
“Mia and I are going to Las Vegas next week for a few days.”
Kruger smiled. “JR, are you finally accepting the fact no one is looking for you anymore?”
JR slowly nodded. “I guess. Old habits die hard, Sean. I still plan on being careful.”
Chuckling, Kruger shook his head slowly. “You can be such an old man sometimes, JR. What’s the occasion?”
“Black Hat USA.”
“That tells me nothing.”
“Black Hat’s a global information security gathering. There are seminars on the latest information security research, development, tools and trends, without a bunch of salesmen trying to sell you something. It’s perfect for Mia and me; they cater to security practitioners. Plus there will be venture capitalists attending. One of whom you know.”
Kruger’s eyebrows rose.
JR nodded. “Stephen Blair is attending.”
“Really. This is the first I’ve heard about him for a couple of months. We kind of lost track of him after he sold the house in Atlanta.”
“You never did tell me why?”
“Tom Stark put him under surveillance for a few weeks. With no results and manpower issues coming into play, he stopped. They never were able to determine a connection between Judith Day and Randolph Bishop. We may never know.”
“Blair still doesn’t have an internet presence. Which is kind of surprising.” JR hesitated for a few seconds, thought about it and shrugged. “But then again, I don’t either. My company does, but I don’t.”
“Are you going to meet with him?”
“No plans to at this point. If I get a chance, I’ll say hello.”
Kruger nodded, then added, “Oh, I forgot to tell you, the two files you gave us paid off. Sandy and his team stopped a couple of teenagers from entering their high school with AR-15s.”
JR gave Kruger a grim smile. “How many does that make now?”
“Four.”
Shaking his head, JR stood and placed his palms down on the conference table where he and Kruger were meeting. “I’m still not convinced this is the right way to search for them.”
“JR, if you can think of a better system, I’m all ears.”
“I just don’t like the invasion of privacy. I’ve spent the last six years trying to keep the men in black from finding me. Now I’m one of them.”
“I understand, but you weren’t preparing to commit a mass shooting. The four we’ve found so far were prepared to take maximum lives with their attacks. We’ve had a few false alarms and false positives. But those individuals received a little scare and now don’t pretend to be what they aren’t. You’re doing good work, JR. The powers that be are pleased.”
“Do they know about me?”
Kruger shook his head. “Only Joseph, the President and myself.”
“What happens when he serves his two terms? What about the next one?”
“Hopefully, he or she will understand the sensitivity of the matter. If not, we can shut down.”
JR straightened from leaning over the table and gave his friend a grim smile.
“I’m getting a cup of coffee; do you want one?”
Kruger shook his head and returned to studying the screen of his laptop which showed a file JR gave him before starting their meeting. When JR returned, Kruger looked up. “When did you find this?”
“It popped up this morning. I’ve had a new snooper program trolling police reports, news outlets, Twitter feeds, and Facebook postings for murders or series of murders similar to what Randolph Bishop commits.”
“It’s not his pattern, but…”
“I didn’t think it was, but wanted you to see it.”
“I don’t like the proximity to Atlanta.”
JR sipped his coffee. “Exactly why I included them in the file. Neither did I.”
Kruger pointed to the screen. “This body was found in the trunk of a car submerged in the Chattahoochee River, a hundred miles from Atlanta, but…”
“The wounds on the body resemble Judith Day, don’t they?”
“Similar. Not exact, according to the police report.”
“Call them and get more details. Reading something on a police report is not the same thing as seeing the body, Sean.”
Kruger nodded. “Yeah, I know.”
“If it was Bishop, it establishes his presence in the area before Judith Day and Zimmerman were murdered.”
“This report doesn’t identify the body.”
“Call them.”
Kruger’s brow furrowed and he gave JR a curt nod. “Not sure why I was hesitating. I’ll patch through the Bureau.”
***
“Troup County Sheriff’s Department, can I help you?”
“My name is Sean Kruger, Special Agent with the FBI. Is the sheriff available?”
There was silence on the call, finally, “Uhhh… Please hold.”
A tinny instrumental version of ZZ Top’s song “LaGrange” was heard as Kruger waited for someone to answer.
“Sheriff Cooper’s office, this is Nancy.”
Repeating who he was, Kruger again asked for the sheriff.
“May I ask what this is about, Agent?”
“Official business, Nancy. Is the sheriff available or not?”
There was silence on the other end of the call. Taking a deep breath, Kruger closed his eyes as he calmed his aggravation about the lack of a response. Finally he heard, “I’m sorry, Agent Kruger, but he’s in a departmental meeting at the moment. Is there someone else who could help you?”
Recognizing the stall tactic, he tried a different approach. “I’m inquiring about the body found in a tributary of the Chattahoochee River yesterday. It may be connected to a case we’re investigating.”
“I’m sorry, Agent Kruger, but the lead detective for the case is also in the meeting.”
Although Nancy could not see it, Kruger smiled, knowing exactly what his next words would be. “That’s fine. Please give the sheriff a message. There will be twenty FBI agents in route to his office within the next hour to investigate the discovery of the body. As I mentioned, it may be connected to a case we are working. But since he doesn’t have time to discuss it with me, I’ll just send the agents. I’m sure he won’t mind dealing with them.”
“Agent Kruger, please hold.”
The same horrible rendition of the ZZ Top song came back on the phone line. Fifteen seconds later, he heard a gruff voice say, “This is Sheriff Cooper. What’s this about twenty FBI agents coming here?”
“You have a very efficient gatekeeper, Sheriff. I need to talk to you, and she was not being very helpful.”
Kruger heard a muffled curse, then, “Who am I speaking to?”
“FBI Special Agent Sean Kruger.”
“How do I know you’re a real FBI agent a
nd not some reporter trying to get a story?”
“You are wise to be cautious. Have someone call the FBI main number and ask for Deputy Director Alan Seltzer. Tell them you are confirming my identity. They’ll connect you immediately.”
An orchestral version of “Sweet Home Alabama” provided the only indication the call was still connected. As his wait time dragged on, he stared at his watch and observed the minute hand circle the dial four times.
“Okay, Agent Kruger, what do you want to know?”
The voice was still gruff, but there was a note of resignation at the same time.
Kruger smiled to himself. “A woman was murdered in the Buckhead District of Atlanta two months ago. The method of her death was similar to a woman in Rockford, Illinois, a month prior. From preliminary information we’ve received about the woman your department found in the Chattahoochee River, we believe there may be a connection with the other two.”
“She’d been in the water about seventy days, according to the coroner. The water was warm, and the perch and crawdads were busy.”
“I’m more concerned about the cuts.”
“Oh, boy.” The sheriff stayed quiet for a few moments. “Hard to describe.”
“If I gave you an email address of a forensic technician with the Bureau, could you send pictures?”
“We can.”
“It’s important, Sheriff.”
“How?”
“If this woman is one of his victims, it will be his eighth.”
“Why am I just hearing about this?”
“Because they’ve occurred over the past fifteen years. He’s smart, extremely disciplined, and dangerous as hell. I need to stop him.”
“Give me the email address.”
Kruger gave the sheriff the address and told him the tech’s name. When they were done exchanging contact information, the sheriff asked, “Agent Kruger, did you really have twenty agents on their way to my county?”
“Well, Sheriff, I was able to turn them around just in time.”
Kruger heard the man laugh as he hung up.
Chapter 21
Southlake, TX
Looking out the sliding glass door leading to his balcony, Randolph Bishop sipped a cup of coffee. His newly leased condominium was on the third floor of a residential complex in Southlake, TX. It was close to the Dallas-Fort Worth International Airport, and the surrounding restaurants provided a variety of eating experiences.
He watched the sun peek above the eastern horizon. Dallas and Fort Worth were growing financial centers, one of the reasons he chose the condo. The money from the sale of Blair’s company was scattered across numerous accounts in the Cayman Islands and Zurich. The seven-figure sale of Blair’s home provided plenty of funds for a lavish lifestyle.
Dallas was only five hundred miles from Mexico, far enough to be removed, but close enough to be able to get there in a timely manner. Mexico provided sanctuary if he was discovered and a supply of young women for his particular desires.
Today those particular desires were secondary. A meeting at 10 a.m. would draw the first of several well-to-do Texas investors into his web of falsehoods and empty promises. The success of Stephen Blair and his stellar reputation as a technology wizard made drawing these self-absorbed millionaires into his scheme easy.
He walked back to his desk where a laptop displayed the website of Black Hat USA. Moving the mouse over the Business Center icon, he clicked and rechecked his confirmed appointments for the convention. Smiling to himself, he closed the website and opened the file with his notes on the investor he would be meeting with later.
***
“I must say, Stephen, the prospectus you’ve presented is most intriguing. How long do you believe it will take to start generating profit?”
Marian Burke tilted his head slightly as he asked the question. He was a retired oil company executive with more money than he knew what to do with. Instead of playing golf, he enjoyed investing in longshot ventures. In his early seventies, his snow white hair was cut stylishly, but long. Forsaking suits when he retired, he wore expensive blue jeans, an oxford button-down light blue Joseph A. Banks dress shirt and a navy blazer. His permanently tanned face was wrinkled after decades in the Texas sun. Hazel eyes stared at the fake Stephen Blair behind rimless glasses.
They were meeting in an office suite close to his condominium. The temporary space contained a small office, a shared conference room for meetings and a part-time receptionist. Bishop was renting it for two months, with an option for additional months should it take longer to sucker investors into his scheme.
“As it says in the prospectus, once the research and development stages are completed, initial profit should occur, at minimum, in one year. Our preliminary research indicates not only a desire for the product, but a true need within the computer security segment.”
Burke nodded as he looked back at the paperwork on the conference table in front of him. “How many investors are you looking for?”
“Initial estimate is for ten with an outlay of three million each. These stakeholders will comprise the basis of the Board of Directors. Provisions are made for smaller investors without voting rights.”
Nodding again, Burke removed his glasses and looked back at Blair. “What if a stakeholder wants to invest more than three million?”
Blair smiled. “At this point, we want to limit the liability of our partners. This is, after all, a new approach to AI. There are risks, and we would prefer to keep investor outlay at the three million level. However, once the project starts and we need additional funds…” He paused and smiled. “We can always open the door for more contributions.”
“I appreciate your concern for my investment.”
Blair nodded his head once.
“Okay, I’m in. When do you need the funds?”
“Before the end of the month. I will be attending Black Hat USA next week. After numerous conversations this past week, I see no problem filling the remaining slots for the board by then.”
***
After Burke left, Bishop returned to his small office and closed the door. There was one more meeting scheduled later in the afternoon. Until then, he would work on scheduling appointments at Black Hat the following week. So far twenty were lined up over the course of the conference. He had lied to Marian Burke. His goal was to sign up as many investors as possible, take their three million dollars and return to Taiwan using the guise of Stewart Everett. Once the investments were received, they would be deposited, along with the proceeds from Blair’s stock in New Age Software, in various accounts around the globe. If all went as planned, Bishop would disappear again, this time with enough money to pay off a debt and live the rest of his life in luxury. Once he was out of the reach of the FBI, the final element of his plan would be completed. An anonymous tip would be provided to CNN about the whereabouts of the real Stephen Blair’s body. Once it was established the real Stephen Blair was dead before the investors made their contributions, the firestorm of a financial scandal would play itself out in the news media.
A slight smile appeared as he scrolled through the list of appointments for the next week.
Chapter 22
Mandalay Bay Resort and Casino, Las Vegas, NV
The line to check in was long, with what seemed like hundreds of conference attendees arriving at the same time. JR looked around nervously, scanning the room for someone he might recognize from his previous life. Mia’s excitement was not quite contagious enough to calm JR’s apprehensions. She held on to his arm as they stood in line, more for his sake than hers.
“JR, try to relax. This is the first time we’ve done anything like this as a couple. It will be fun, if you let it.”
He sighed and nodded. “I know. You have to remember, I haven’t been in a large crowd for a long time.”
“What about our wedding reception?”
“Different circumstance. All of those people know me as JR. Not necessarily the case here.”
“Have you seen anyone you recognize?” She asked with a conspiratorial smile.
“No.”
“Didn’t think so. Now, can we try to have fun?”
It took almost an hour to check in and find their way to their room on the 20th floor. The room featured a magnificent view of the mountains toward the west, one king-sized bed, Wi-Fi and a fully stocked mini-bar. As Mia stared at the mountains, JR unpacked his bag and set up his laptop on a desk. “Do you want to go to the mountains later?”
She nodded, but did not say anything right away. As JR looked inside the room’s mini-bar, he heard. “I don’t know why the mountains are so attractive to me. I’d like to live out here somewhere one day.”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter to me, we can live wherever you want. I can manage my business from anywhere.” He stopped and looked at her. She was still staring out the window. “You’ve never mentioned anything about living in the mountains.”
“I know. Just a fantasy I’ve always had. The week we spent in Colorado four years ago reinforced it. I’d never spent an extended amount of time on a mountain before. I loved the view and the crispness of the morning air.”
JR heard her take a deep breath and then let it out slowly. He walked over to where she stood and put his arms around her. “Do you think it’s because you grew up in a flat state like Texas?”
She shook her head. “Texas has mountains.”
He chuckled, “Texas has hills, just like the so-called mountains of Missouri and Arkansas. They are nothing compared to the Rocky Mountains or even the ranges surrounding Vegas.”
She turned around in his embrace and started pulling his polo shirt out of his jeans. As she did so, he backed up toward the bed.
***
Dinner was at the Border Grill. Mia ordered the vegetable quesadilla and JR the grilled fish tacos. After dinner, in deference to Mia’s condition, they both sipped on virgin margaritas. She looked over her drink at JR. “What’re our plans for tomorrow?”
