The Sean Kruger Series Complete Boxed Set

by J. C. Fields

  So far there was nothing mentioned in the media about the abduction of the FBI agent’s wife and child, or the capture of the kidnapper. Even in the online version of the Kansas City Star, there was no mention.

  His drive from Springfield to Columbia took most of the night, as he traveled back roads and little used highways. When he did a cursory survey of Brian Kruger’s apartment, he spotted several security types guarding the building. After watching the apartment for several minutes, he drove to the local regional airport and turned the rental car into the Hertz counter.

  A taxi took him to an American’s Best Value Inn on the north side of Columbia. The clientele consisted of cost-conscious travelers looking for a cheap hotel with even cheaper furnishings. The hotel and rooms were decorated with colors designed to hide dirt. The smell of Pine-Sol, stale cigarettes, and a faint background of cheap beer assaulted his nose as he opened the door. Signing in as Gary Yates, he paid cash for one night and became just another anonymous guest. The main reason he chose this hotel was the car lot next to it.

  As he watched CNN, his cell phone vibrated. Only one person, besides Amal, knew the number. The caller ID showed an international number. He accepted the call.

  “My man in Kansas City may have been compromised.”

  “He hasn’t called me, if that’s what you’re referring to. Where is he?”

  Bishop prepared himself for the rant he knew was coming. He was not disappointed.

  The man from Bangkok sighed. “My friend, how can I continue to trust your judgment in these matters? You owe our organization millions of your American dollars, yet you have delivered nothing. What am I to do?”

  “What you were supposed to do was refer me to someone competent.”

  There was silence on the other end of the call. “Your problem, not mine. We have spent a lot of time and money to get you back to the United States. Yet, you continue to push back about paying your debt.”

  “I will provide the funds we discussed. You are the one who recommended Amal. How do I know he hasn’t used the woman for his own pleasure and killed her?”

  “He is a loyal member of our society. He is disciplined. And if he has, Allah have mercy.”

  “Yeah, well, how come your loyal member hasn’t checked in for twenty-four hours?”

  “As I mentioned earlier, he may have been compromised.”

  “I need this meddlesome FBI agent out of the way. The woman and child were to be used as bait. With them, he would have walked into my trap. Now I’m left with one conclusion. The person you recommended screwed up.”

  “Pay your debt, Mr. Bishop. If you don’t…” There was a long pause. “Our reach is long and you will have nowhere to hide.”

  “Yeah, yeah, so you’ve told me…” The call had ended without the man hearing Bishop’s response.

  Bishop felt rage rolling up from his lower body, his stomach clinching, his lungs constricting, and his throat tightening. He stood and rapidly paced the room, taking short breaths and closing his eyes. He stopped pacing, took a deep breath and stood still. Finally, control of his breathing returned, and he stood in the middle of the depressing room with his eyes closed. After ten minutes, he opened them and sat down on the bed next to the nightstand. Reaching for the cell phone used to talk the man in Taiwan, he removed the battery and SIM card, which he dropped to the floor. Using his heel, he crushed it into small pieces. After gathering the pieces, he flushed them down the toilet.

  Afterward, he sat down at his laptop and starting searching the internet. An hour later, he found a reference to the person he was looking for. His Facebook page indicated he worked as a bartender at a high-end restaurant near the Sprint Center in downtown Kansas City. Using the second burner phones he bought in Mexico, he called the restaurant and asked for the man. The person answering the phone acted like Congress would need to pass a law for him to grant Bishop’s request. But, he took the phone to the man anyway.

  “Yeah, this is Reggie.”

  “How you doing, Reggie. It’s Bishop.”

  “Damn, son, it’s been awhile. Ten years?”

  “Probably.”

  “From what I hear, you’re a hot commodity. Not sure I should be associating with you.” There was a note of humor in the man’s voice.

  “How would you like to make an easy five grand?”

  “Love to. Is it legal?”

  “Just a field trip. Information gathering.”

  “Sure. What do you need?”

  “Call this number when you get off. I’m not in KC.” He told Reggie the number.

  “Cool. Talk to you later.”

  ***

  The call came at 2 a.m.

  “So, Bishop, why do you want to pay me five big ones?”

  “I need you to check on someone.”

  “Who?”

  “A former employee of mine.”

  “Former?” Reggie chuckled. “What did he do?”

  “He was supposed to call me twenty-eight hours ago and hasn’t.”

  “What was he doing for you?”

  “Babysitting.”

  When Reggie stopped laughing, Bishop heard, “He sounds dead, or he skipped. What do you think?”

  “Dead. But I need to be sure. I need you to go to the morgue and see if he’s there.”

  “Disgusting. But I’ll do it for five.” He pause for a second. “Up front.”

  “Give me an account number. The money will be there in the morning.”

  “Cool. Give me the details and a phone number to reach you.”

  Bishop gave him a quick summary and a number. “Keep it low-key.”

  “Always.”

  The call ended, and Bishop put the phone in his pocket. He stared again at the television set.

  ***

  The next morning, around ten, he wandered next door to the car lot. A tall, skinny, acne-scared, twenty-something greeted him. “Good morning. Looking for an SUV?”

  Bishop shook his head. “Looking for a something I can depend on with less than a hundred thousand miles on it.”

  The salesman struck out his hand. “I’m George.”

  Bishop shook the man’s hand. “I’m Gary. Tell me about this one.” He pointed toward a white 2012 Chevy Equinox.

  George smiled, “You won’t regret buying that one.”

  The salesman droned on about the quality of the car, its low miles, maintenance records, and being named most reliable SUV. Finally, without letting the man take a breath, Bishop interrupted, “Ninety-five hundred, cash, and new tires.”

  The young salesman stammered, “Ah, well, I, uhhh… I can’t say yes or no. We’d have to talk to my sales manager.”

  “Well…” Bishop pointed toward the building. “Go talk to him.”

  An hour and a half later, Gary Yates owned a Chevy Equinox, which Bishop drove off the lot. He’d paid ninety-nine hundred dollars cash for the SUV with brand new Firestone tires and an oil change. No one, even if they checked, would be able to associate the SUV with Randolph Bishop.

  ***

  Bishop paid for another day at the motel as he waited to hear from Reggie. It was close to 9 in the evening when his cell phone vibrated. Glancing at the caller ID, he accepted the call. “What’d you find?”

  “I found him. In the morgue.”

  Bishop was silent for a moment. “Go on.”

  “The body was found Tuesday morning, no ID, and a bullet hole just above his right eyebrow. They have him listed as John Doe.”

  “Did you identify him?”

  “Hell no! You think I’m stupid? I gave the morgue attendant two hundred bucks, told him I was looking for my missing brother. By the way, you owe me fifty two hundred.”

  “Fine. Where did they find him?”

  “You’re going to love this.” The voice on the other end of the call laughed. “The body was sitting in a bus stop across the street from City Hall and the police department in downtown Kansas City.”

  Bishop did not find any humor i
n this fact. “Was he killed there?”

  “No, police report says he was killed elsewhere and moved to the bench. No one saw anything. Time of death was somewhere around midnight the previous night. Lots of security cameras around. Police are scratching their heads; all the cameras have a ten-minute gap around 3 a.m.”

  “What about the FBI agent?”

  “No idea. He wasn’t mentioned.”

  “Damn. How did they find Amal so fast?”

  “Was that his name?”

  “Don’t worry about it. I need you to find someone else.”

  “Sure, for another five thousand.”

  Bishop was silent for a long while. “Fine.”

  “Who am I looking for?”

  “An FBI agent named Sean Kruger.”

  “How do you spell it?”

  Bishop spelled the name. “Try to find out where he is and get back to me.”

  “It may take a few days.”

  “Yes, yes, yes. Just find him.”

  After the call ended, Bishop let out a long breath. He doubted Kruger would take his family back to their house. He would find someplace safe and out of the way. If anyone could find the place, Reggie would.

  In the meantime, he needed a place to stay for a while. The perfect solution presented itself that evening as he ate dinner in a restaurant next to the hotel.

  ***

  Rosie Singleton lived in a small cookie-cutter ranch-style home in Hallsville, MO, twenty-two miles north of Columbia. Life had slapped her in the face more times than it had patted her on the back. Now in her mid-forties, twice divorced from abusive husbands, childless, and working at a dead-end job with the city of Columbia, she still shared a smile with everyone. Another attribute passed on to her from her mother was a natural high metabolism, which kept her relatively slim. Her hair was prematurely gray, but still dark brown, thanks to a box of Miss Clairol purchased each month at a Columbia Walmart.

  She kept her hair shoulder length and straight, sometimes pulled it back in a ponytail, sometimes not. Her face was oblong, with a small nose supporting black-rimmed glasses in front of hazel eyes. Her father was half Cherokee, which gave her an exotic skin tone. Combined with her five-foot-eight-inch height, getting attention from men was not a problem. Having to deal with the attention was.

  One of her favorite activities was meeting several girl friends on Tuesday and Thursdays for dinner at a local Country Kitchen close to her office. It was Thursday, so the four friends sat in a booth laughing and sharing the latest gossip.

  Randolph Bishop was eating at a table next to them.

  “I’ve been saving for this vacation for five years,” Rosie announced as the laugher subsided from one of Betty’s jokes. Betty was several years older than Rosie and her best friend.

  “You’ve been talking about it for at least ten, girlfriend,” Betty sat next to Rosie and put a hand on her arm. “Aren’t you scared to take a cruise by yourself?”

  Shaking her head, Rosie straightened in her chair. “Nah. It’s a Christian-based cruise for singles only. I’m hoping the men aren’t too religious, if you know what I mean.”

  All the girls laughed again.

  Rosie continued, “Besides, once the cruise is over, I’ll never have to see them again.”

  More laughter.

  “When do you leave?” another friend asked.

  “I have to drive to St. Louis in the morning to catch a Southwest flight to Houston. I’ll be gone for two whole weeks.” Rosie smiled. “I’ve never taken two weeks at a time before. I figure one week of cruising, then another week to recuperate.”

  They all laughed again.

  Randolph Bishop heard every word the booth full of middle-aged women said. He lingered at his table staring at his cell phone until they were done. When they started splitting up their bill, he stood and walked to the cashier to pay his check. He waited in his new SUV and watched until Rosie Singleton walked to her car. After she waved to her friends, she opened the door of her Honda Civic, sat down, and drove out of the restaurant parking lot. Fifteen seconds later a white Chevy Equinox followed.

  Chapter 33

  Springfield, MO

  Kruger and Knoll followed JR down the stairs to the second floor and to a cubicle where Joseph stood. He smiled. “Good to see you this morning, Sean.”

  “Thanks for everyone’s help last night.”

  “Our pleasure.”

  JR positioned himself in front of a dual set of computer screens, using a mouse to click on an icon on the screen. “Listen to this.”

  “My man in Kansas City may have been compromised.”

  “He hasn’t called me, if that’s what you’re referring to. Where is he?”

  “My friend, how can I continue to trust your judgment in these matters? You owe our organization millions of your American dollars, yet you have delivered nothing. What am I to do?”

  “What you were supposed to do was refer me to someone competent.”

  There was a lengthy moment of silence, Kruger started to say something, but JR raised his index finger and said, “Wait.”

  “Your problem, not mine. We have spent a lot of time and money to get you back to the United States. Yet you continue to push back about paying your debt.”

  “I will provide the funds we discussed. You are the one who recommended Amal. How do I know he hasn’t used the woman for his own pleasure and killed her?”

  “He is a loyal member of our society. He is disciplined. And if he has, Allah have mercy.”

  “Yeah, well, how come your loyal member hasn’t checked in for over twenty-four hours?”

  “As I mentioned earlier, he may have been compromised.”

  “I need this meddlesome FBI agent out of the way. The woman and child were to be used as bait. With them, he would have walked into my trap. Now I’m left with one conclusion. The person you recommended screwed up.”

  “Pay your debt, Mr. Bishop. If you don’t… Our reach is long, and you will have nowhere to hide.”

  “Yeah, yeah, so you’ve told me…”

  The conversation stopped.

  Joseph crossed his arms over his chest. “NSA?”

  JR nodded. “I found the number on the SIM card from the kidnapper’s phone. Both numbers for Bishop and the man in Thailand were previously unknown to me. They’re using different burner phones on almost every call.”

  “How are they communicating the numbers to call?” Kruger asked.

  “Don’t know, haven’t figured that out yet.”

  Kruger started pacing. “At least we have the answers to a lot of questions about Bishop.”

  Joseph nodded. “He was sent here to raise money to pay a debt of some kind.”

  Shaking his head, Kruger stopped and looked at Joseph. “No, I think he’s running a scam on them. He needed help getting back into the states. His ego is such, he figured once he was here, he could outsmart them. He’d buy another identity, one they don’t know about, and disappear again.”

  “Do you have a recording of the call to Amal from Thailand?”

  JR smiled. “It’s in Thai, but I’ve run it through a translation program, so it’s going to sound mechanical. I’ll play the pertinent parts.” His hand moved the mouse until it was hovering over another icon on the computer screen and he clicked it.

  “Do you still work for the property management company?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. There is a man, his name is Bishop, he has job for you.”

  “What is job?”

  “He needs you to take a woman and a child from an address in Overland Park and keep them at one of those rental houses you work on.”

  “How long do I keep them?”

  “A few days.”

  “Then what?”

  “Use your imagination.”

  “Ahhh… How much do I get paid?”

  “You will need to negotiate with Bishop. I am a mere functionary getting you and him together. He will have all the details.”r />
  Kruger sat down. “He had no intention of letting them go.”

  Joseph looked at his old friend. “You didn’t think he would, did you?”

  “No. I knew he wouldn’t.” Kruger frowned. “JR, did you find any of the calls between Bishop and Amal?”

  “Nope, the only recordings I have access within the NSA system are foreign to domestic and domestic to foreign. They say they don’t record domestic calls.” A smirk appeared. “Right…”

  Sandy Knoll crossed his arms over his wide chest. “We’re wasting time. Where’s Bishop?”

  Kruger hid his smile with a hand while Joseph’s eyes showed agreement.

  Oblivious to Knoll’s frustration, JR replied, “Glad you asked. Bishop’s phone is still in the Columbia area. At least it was until a while ago. The phone he used to talk to Thailand is dark, which means he’s destroyed it, or taken the battery out.”

  Kruger’s eyes widened, and he stood up. “He’s still in Columbia?”

  Knoll placed his hand on Kruger’s shoulder. “My men are still there. Brian and Michelle are under their protection and safe.”

  JR was typing on his keyboard, his head staring at only one screen. “All the phones I know about are dark. I’m having them pinged every five minutes. But none are showing active. He could be anywhere.”

  Taking a deep breath, Kruger pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and walked away from the cubicle. Joseph followed.

  With the cell phone against his ear, he was silent waiting for his call to be completed.

  “Alan, it’s Sean.”

  “Any word on Bishop?”

  “No, nothing concrete. We think he’s in the Columbia, Missouri area. Can you ask the KC office to have them notify the Columbia PD to be on the lookout for stolen cars and missing women?”

  “I’ll have them send a couple of agents over for a few days.”

  “It could be nothing, Alan. He may be long gone.”

  “Do you want to take that chance?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll call you when they have someone there.”