by J. C. Fields
“I wouldn’t bet against him. Bishop has proven to be adaptive and elusive in the past.”
“Yes, he has.”
“Sean.”
“Yeah.”
“Assume the worst.”
Chapter 29
Springfield, MO
As Joseph and Kruger walked through the parking lot at the Springfield-Branson National Airport’s General Aviation Terminal after returning from Denver, Kruger’s phone vibrated. He glanced at the caller ID and saw a 928 area code. Thinking it might be one of the agents from Las Vegas, he accepted the call.
“Kruger.”
“Agent Sean Kruger?”
“Yes.” He paused briefly, not recognizing the voice. “Who is this?”
“I’m surprised you don’t remember me.”
Kruger’s heart froze. He stopped walking and stared at Joseph. “Sorry, I’m getting old, my memory isn’t what it used to be. Please, tell me who you are.” He snapped his fingers, pointed to the phone and mouthed, “It is Bishop. Call JR.”
Without hesitating Joseph turned his back to Kruger, took out his cell phone, and punched in one of JR’s numbers only he knew. It was answered immediately. Joseph’s voice was low. “JR, Bishop is calling Sean. Trace the number.”
“Got it. You wanna stay on the line?”
“Yeah.” He turned, looked at Kruger and nodded.
Kruger stared at Joseph, waiting, the caller silent. “Are you still there?”
“Yes, trying to decide what to tell you. I think you know who this is, so I won’t say it out loud.”
“I could be wrong.”
“You have a nice house, Agent Sean Kruger.”
Kruger closed his eyes, took a breath and let it out slowly, thankful Stephanie and Kristin were in Kansas City.
“What do you want, Bishop?”
“Good, you do know who it is. Let me explain something to you, Agent Sean Kruger. I will always be one step ahead of you. Try to understand that…”
“I’m not going to play your game, Bishop. Why are you calling?”
The phone was silent again. Kruger frowned, glanced at the phone’s screen to see if the call was over. It wasn’t. Finally he heard, “It’s really a curtesy call, more than anything. Maybe a warning. Yeah, I’m calling you with a warning. Return the money. If you don’t, you won’t like the consequences.” The call ended abruptly before Kruger could respond.
He took the phone away from his ear and stared at the screen. Joseph walked closer. “JR says the call was made by the phone purchased in Flagstaff. He couldn’t pinpoint the location, but he said it was local.”
“I know. He told me I have a nice house.”
Joseph stared at Kruger. “I’ll call the police, they can meet us. Maybe he’s still there.”
Kruger turned and started walking toward his car. “No, he’s long gone. I wonder if he found what he was looking for.”
Three patrol cars and a detective’s car—their light bars rotating—were parked outside Kruger’s house when they arrived. Yellow tape was being strung around Kruger’s yard. Joseph knew the detective who was sitting in his car talking on a cell phone. The car’s door was open, and both of his feet were on the ground. When he saw Joseph approaching, he stood and extended his hand, but did not stop his phone conversation.
Joseph shook the man’s hand and waited for him to end the call. “Yeah, I need someone from the crime lab here immediately.” He paused as he listened. “The owner just showed up.” Another pause. “Okay, I’ll call you back after I talk to him.”
The detective ended the call and smiled. “Good to see you, Joseph. Wish it was under better circumstances.”
Joseph nodded. “Bob, this is Sean Kruger. Sean, this is Detective Robert Morris.”
Kruger shook the man’s hand. “What’s going on inside, Detective?”
Morris looked at Kruger. “You used to be with the FBI, right?”
Kruger nodded. He didn’t feel like getting into details concerning his status.
“You think someone from your past was here?”
Again, Kruger nodded.
“There doesn’t appear to be anything missing. All the electronics and stuff burglar’s normally take are still there. But someone tore the place apart looking for something.”
Kruger looked at his house, took a deep breath. “May I go in? I might see something you don’t.”
Morris nodded, “Your house.”
Walking through the rooms of their home, Kruger noted the systematic method Bishop used to search for whatever he was looking for. He kept his breathing steady, controlling the rhythm, fighting the inner turmoil. Files were scattered in his home office, so determining if anything was missing would be difficult. Storage boxes in one of the spare bedrooms were dumped on the floor, the contents strewn about. Kristin’s room was ransacked, for no apparent reason other than he was there and could do it. Finally he walked into Stephanie’s and his bedroom where the chaos intensified. Pillows were cut and ripped apart, and the bedding wadded up and thrown into a corner. Lamps were thrown against the walls and shattered. As he surveyed the room, he noticed several objects missing.
Turning to Morris, his voice in a barely controlled whisper, “Stephanie’s tablet is missing, as is a picture of her and Kristin I keep on my nightstand.”
He returned his attention to the nightstand and walked closer. On the floor, under a ripped pillow case, he saw broken glass and the twisted remains of the frame he kept the picture in. Kruger pointed to it. “He took the picture, left the frame.”
Morris bent over and using the tip of a pen lifted the pillow case. “I’ll have them dust it for prints. I’ll need yours for elimination purposes.”
Kruger nodded. “There is a bottle of facial cream on her side of the vanity. It doesn’t look disturbed. You can get her prints off it.”
Morris smiled slightly. “Good, thanks. Sorry you had to see this, Sean, but we appreciate your help.”
Remaining quiet, Kruger turned, walked out of the bedroom, and returned to his car outside on the street. He leaned against the hood, closed his eyes, bowed his head, and crossed his arms tight against his chest. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Joseph walked up and leaned against the hood next to Kruger. “How bad?”
“Not as bad as Brenda Parker’s house, but bad enough.”
Joseph nodded. “I called Sandy. He’ll be calling in four more members of his team. They’ll fly into Columbia and take over protecting Brian and Michelle. More boots on the ground, so to speak. Sandy will be back early tomorrow morning. He’ll be at your disposal.”
“Thank you, Joseph.” Kruger looked up. Dusk was turning to night and the street lights of the neighborhood were starting to glow. “I need to go back in there and get something. Then I’ll stop at JR’s before I drive to Kansas City. I’ll feel better when Stephanie and Kristin are with me.”
“Good idea.”
Chapter 30
Kansas City, KS
The house was dark. No external lights were visible from the driveway and all the windows in the front of the house were unlit. Kruger parked the Mustang behind Stephanie’s Jeep Cherokee on the right side of the driveway. He glanced at the clock on the Mustang’s dash. It was 11:03 p.m.
Before leaving Springfield for the drive, he called. She told him her sister and husband would be out attending a company function. She would leave the front porch light on for him and wait up. Placing the Mustang in first and setting the parking brake, he stared at the dark house, his stomach clinching. He stepped out of the car and walked toward the Cherokee, touching the hood as he passed. It was cold to the touch.
The house was on an oversized lot in an upper-income neighborhood of Overland Park, Kansas. The lot contained numerous mature oaks and maples, allowing only the partial glow of a distant street light to penetrate the gloom. The garage was on the right side and opened to the side, allowing a wider than normal driveway. Two large picture windows
featured prominently on the left side of the home, while a covered porch dominated the center of the structure. As Kruger approached the front door, broken glass reflected light from the street lamp. He glanced up. The front porch light was shattered.
The tightness in his stomach increased as he reached for the Glock 19 in his belt holster. Curtains adorning the two large picture windows were open, something he knew his sister-in-law did not allow at night. As he approached the front entrance, he could see the jam was shattered and the door slightly ajar. A cold shiver coursed through him as unthinkable possibilities reached his consciousness.
Holding his Glock with both hands pointed down, he leaned his shoulder against the door and increased the opening.
“Steph… it’s Sean, are you here?”
His answer was silence from the pitch black interior. As he peered into the darkness, his cell phone vibrated. He looked at the caller ID. Unknown.
“Yes.”
“They not there, Agent Kruger.”
“Who is this?”
“Not important…”
“Where are my wife and daughter?”
“Safe… for now. Maybe you cooperate. Maybe you see them again.” The voice, deep and gruff, spoke English with a heavy accent Kruger could not immediately recognize.
Remaining silent, Kruger fought to tame his growing panic. The only way to save Stephanie and Kristin was to think logically. “What do you want?”
“My employer very upset with you.”
“Yeah… So?”
“He want you to return his money and stop trying to find him. Back off. Very simple.”
“I want proof of life first.”
“They are fine. I will call back in one hour. You talk to wife then.”
The call ended, Kruger stared at the screen, trying to think. Pushing down the panic, he took a deep breath and sent a text message to a number he knew from memory.
His phone rang fifteen seconds later. “Did you get the call?”
“Yeah, good decision having your phone cloned before you left.” JR’s voice was tense.
“Can you start tracking his location when he calls back?”
“Already on it.”
Kruger opened his recent call screen and returned the phone to his ear. “He was on the call less than two minutes.”
“Smart. It might take several calls. But I’ll be able to get a general location on the next one. Why did he say an hour?”
“I think he was watching; he knew when I got here. He’s probably moving toward a safe house, so it won’t be too far from Kansas City.”
“I would agree. While we’ve been talking, I hacked into Verizon’s system and found his number. It’s a burner, sold at a Qwik-Trip. Could be a problem.”
“Yeah, well, you’ve done it before.”
“Tricky, but doable. Let me see what I can find. I’ll call you back.”
The call ended, and Kruger took a deep breath. His earlier panic remained, but having JR’s assistance eased the sharp edges.
While the minutes crept by, he went to the trunk of his car and grabbed the old duffel bag he kept packed. A habit from his Bureau days. It was the object he retrieved from their ransacked house and placed in the Mustang’s trunk before leaving.
Returning to the interior of the darkened home, he stood in front of one of the picture windows and watched the street. As he waited, he started changing clothes. He wanted to be ready to leave the house as quickly as possible, anticipating JR would be able to steer him toward Stephanie. He put on a black pair of jeans, a long-sleeved black t-shirt, black socks and black Nike running shoes. He found his black watch cap tucked away in a side pocket of the duffel bag.
Using a flashlight from the duffel, he walked to the laundry room of the darkened house. After rummaging around, he found a can of black shoe polish in the cabinet above the washing machine. Not what he preferred, but it would do. Returning to the front window, he withdrew several items from the duffel bag. One was his ankle holster, which he strapped to his right leg just above his shoe. He opened a small plastic gun case containing his Glock 26 and secured it in the ankle holster. Next he strapped a Gerber 06 Fast knife to his left calf with two strips of Velcro. He pulled his jeans down over it. Kneeling next to the duffel, he loaded four magazines for his Glock 19 and one for his 26 with 9mm hollow points. When he completed this task, he found the Zip-lock bag Knoll gave him. Opening the bag, he removed the two cylindrical objects. The first was a threaded barrel for his Glock 19, and the second object, a Gem-Tech GM 9 suppressor. He field stripped the Glock 19, replaced its original barrel with the threaded one, and reassembled the gun. He screwed the suppressor on and checked the feel of the pistol. Longer, but not unmanageable. Removing the suppressor, he slipped it into his left sock.
Exactly fifty nine minutes after the first call, his cell phone vibrated. The caller ID was the same as the previous call.
“Yes.”
He heard Stephanie’s voice. “Sean, we’re both okay. I’m sorry, I didn’t take the precautions you taught me.” She sounded strained, but steady.
“I’ll find you. Try to stay calm and do what he tells you, okay?”
“Okay, I’ll…”
The phone was taken away from her, and he heard, “There is proof of life. Now, I will call you back in fifteen minutes with more details.”
The call ended. Ten seconds later it vibrated again.
“Where is he?” Kruger knew it was JR on the other end.
“He’s in north Kansas City, somewhere between 435 and 169, north of 152. If you can keep him on the phone longer than thirty seconds next time, I can narrow it down even further. Possibly to a street and house.”
“Got it, I’m heading that way.”
The call ended, and Kruger took a deep breath. He remembered one more item he might need. Returning to the old duffel bag, he found a pair of thin black cotton gloves and put them in the back pocket of his jeans. He dropped the shoe polish in the duffel bag and retrieved a double magazine pouch. Two of the newly loaded extra clips were secured in their slot. He attached the unit on his belt above his left hip. He extracted the magazine from the Glock in his holster, checked it again for the fourth time and slapped it back into the butt of his gun. He then charged the weapon and returned it to his holster.
He took a deep breath, placed his ID and badge wallet in one of the side pockets of the duffel bag, and exhaled slowly. Tonight he was not an FBI agent. He was a husband and father going after the person responsible for kidnapping his family.
When the next call came, he was on State Line Road getting ready to merge onto East 435. He answered with, “Yeah.”
“Here is what you will do, Kruger. You will dismantle the search for Bishop. You will then return all of his money.”
“Just how in the hell am I supposed to do that? Bishop’s on the most wanted list. Nobody is going to call off the search until he’s in custody.”
“Not my problem. You have the problem. The consequences of not ending search and returning money are not good for family. Once money returned, your family will be returned.”
“Yeah, you’ve mentioned that.”
“Are we clear about what you must do?”
“Very. How do I know you’ll keep your end of the deal?”
“You do not. This is beauty of arrangement. I control it.”
The call ended before Kruger could respond. As he followed the highway, 435 turned north and his cell phone vibrated again.
“Talk to me.”
“He’s within a few hundred feet of North Oak Trafficway and North East 114th Street.”
“Can you narrow it down any further?”
“Maybe, if he makes another call, but not until.”
“I don’t think he will. I can work with what you’ve found.”
“Hold on, he’s making another call. Don’t hang up. He’s calling Bishop’s Virgin phone.”
The phone was silent for three minutes as Kruger waited and
drove north. Finally JR came back on. “The house is about two hundred feet east of North Oak Trafficway on 114th. That’s as close as I’m going to get you.”
“That’s good enough. I can take it from here. Keep monitoring his calls.”
“You got it. Good luck, Sean.”
“Thanks.”
The area in north Kansas City was unfamiliar to him. Using a map app on his cell phone, he located a Casey’s General Store about a mile from the location of the houses. He parked the Mustang in the lot and used the cell phone’s Google Earth feature to look at the area. It was an older neighborhood with mature trees and small older homes.
The street level portion of the app allowed him to view the neighborhood in detail. As he studied the area, an idea of how to proceed became clearer. It was approaching 1 a.m., and the area was quiet. He drove his car behind the store, put the watch cap on and smeared black shoe polish on his face using the rearview mirror to make sure he was properly covered. He removed the suppressor from his sock and screwed onto his weapon. Satisfied with the results, he took a deep breath and put the car in gear. He carefully drove south and then east to find North Oak Trafficway.
Ten minutes later, his car was parked behind several other cars in the yard of a house on an adjacent street. He flipped the switch on the dome light to off and slipped the black cotton gloves on. He exited the Mustang and stood up. Looking around he walked toward the area found on the Google Map search, avoiding street lights and houses with porch lights on.
JR’s instructions mentioned the house was two hundred feet east of Oak Trafficway. He saw two homes within this distance. Both were on the south side of 114th, while the north side was vacant. The mature trees and landscape of the neighborhood provided cover while he surveyed the two structures. Six cars were parked in the driveway and yard of one house, while the other house’s driveway was empty. His best guess was the one without cars.
Carefully and slowly he circled the building. Disturbing a dog was a concern, but so far none were barking from the surrounding homes. The structure without cars was a plain dirty beige craftsman in serious need of a paint job. Untrimmed bushes dominated the front and the sides of the building. No lights were visible in the front. As he circled around to the back, he noticed lights shining through a basement window. The yard to his right was heavily landscaped with a chain link fence separating the lot of his target house from its neighbor. The bushes and trees provided cover preventing anyone next door from seeing his approach. Even though he was dressed totally in black, he was glad for the cover.
