by J. T. Lewis
Wondering how he paid his bills, I happened across a drawer stuffed full of money order stubs.
Always paid with cash, I remember Lacy saying earlier.
I took another look at the bills, discovering nothing to differentiate him from an ordinary citizen save for the extravagant amount of porn that he paid for on his cable bill.
Hiding in plain sight, I mumbled to myself.
Looking through the rest of the desk, I gained no other insights into Alonzo Gates except that he had takeout food a lot, evidenced by the expansive collection of menus I found in one of the drawers.
I sat back in the chair and muddled through some things nagging at my brain.
Alonzo Gates lived an apparently quiet life as far as his public image.
He paid for everything in cash, yet I found not one stray nickel lying around.
If he was our assassin, he would probably have a large amount of cash squirreled away somewhere, not to mention a passport or two.
If he didn’t have another place he worked out of, he had to have a safe or a hidden room of some sort in this apartment!
Standing up, I started moving around the room, looking for anything out of the ordinary.
I tugged at the carpet at various places, thinking he may have something below the floor. Then I started inspecting the walls for some sort of trap door.
“Look around for a safe or a trap door of some sort Preacher,” I called into the bedroom.
“Been looking,” Preacher stated a few moments later as he came out of the bedroom. “Found nothing in there but sex toys, two full-length mirrors and a mirrored ceiling.”
Shaking his head sadly, I heard him mumble, Those who live like this will not inherit the kingdom of God.
His quote barely registered however as something about the room started nagging for my attention.
But what was it?
I made my way back to the mechanical closet, glancing inside for anything hidden in there. Finding nothing, I went back to the living room and looked around the desk, which was positioned on the back wall of the mechanical closet. Kneeling, I crawled under the desk to see if the carpet was loose there. Finding nothing, I sat back on my knees.
As I sat there, my eyes focused suddenly on the carpet in front of the desk. Very faintly, I could make out marks in the carpeting, indents really, in a line moving away from the desk. Putting my face on the floor, I shined the light under the desk.
On each corner of the bottom of the desk, I noticed round plastic discs attached. The desk was one of those large roll top types, and would normally be very hard to move. It struck me that these discs probably made it relatively easy to slide.
Standing then, I moved to the side of the desk, pushing it away from the wall easily.
“Gotcha!” I exclaimed as the safe came into view.
I finally figured out what my mind had been trying to tell me. The wall that the desk was against was larger than the mechanical closet was on the other side. He must have added onto the wall to add the safe.
“That’s a beauty,” Preacher said from behind me as he stared at the safe. And indeed it was!
Three foot wide and at least four foot tall, it was a high-end model, probably used normally for small branch banks and the like.
“I bet it has a TL-30 rating or better!” Preacher stated with admiration.
I looked back at my new friend. “You know safes?”
Nodding, he walked closer to examine it. “I learned a few things about them over the years.”
“Can you break into it?” I asked excitedly, anxious to see what was inside.
“Not without leaving holes that would tell the world that we broke in.” he replied dejectedly. “And finding the combination would require equipment that I no longer have access to.”
Nodding, I sighed.
“I guess it’s time to get out of here and report my findings to Allen,” I admitted tiredly.
We spent the next ten minutes wiping down anything we might have initially touched and putting everything back where we found it.
Cracking the door to make sure the coast was clear; we then locked the door and made our way to the car.
“This sucks,” I growled as the engine roared to life. “We just wasted an hour for nothing. I guess we should have just reported it from the get-go.”
Preacher didn’t answer immediately, staring out the window as we accelerated away from the apartment.
“I wouldn’t say it was a complete loss,” he finally replied as he turned toward me with a grin. “I might have forgotten to mention that I found this.”
Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a small piece of paper. “I found a cardboard shipping tube under the bed, and I pulled off the label.”
My frustrated mind didn’t immediately grasp what excited him about his find.
Seeing my confusion, Preacher continued, “If we assume that he had information or money shipped to his apartment from his boss, the courier company listed on the label may be able to clue us in as to whom that person may be.”
A grin quickly replaced the dour look on my face.
“I knew there was something I liked about you!” I replied happily as we headed to the house.
Chapter 65
September 26, 1999
There was a flurry of quiet activity at the apartment of our dead assassin.
The forensic team was dusting for prints and collecting DNA.
Another tech was going through the papers on the desk, which was currently moved to a different wall after I “discovered” the safe hidden behind it.
A local locksmith was methodically working his magic, the noisy drill the loudest noise around us.
Allen had just made his entrance, pulling up beside me as I patiently waited on the locksmith to get the safe opened.
“Morning Allen,” I acknowledged his presence.
“Morning Gabe! Good work finding this place. Good old Lacy Love comes through again!”
I nodded, pretty pleased with myself at that moment.
“Funny thing though, I just met a representative from the alarm company outside. He told me that he had stopped by because they had received an alert about a power outage on the system here, and then the system just died.”
“Later it seems, power was restored and the system went back online. He suspects a dead battery, and since they couldn’t raise the owner on his phone, he had decided to swing by and check it out. Apparently, all this happened about an hour before you called me with the address,”
Looking at me suspiciously, “You wouldn’t know anything about that would you?”
One of the last things we had done the night before was put the security system back together, knowing it would power up in an unarmed state. I hadn’t given any thought to the possibility that the system may be monitored.
I felt suddenly uneasy with the realization that a close examination by someone in the know would quickly reveal the hastily repaired battery wire. We of course hadn’t had the proper tools or connectors to fix it properly.
I shrugged at Allen before looking back toward the safe.
“Maybe there was a power outage…and the battery is dead.”
“Got it!” The locksmith yelled at that moment as he easily swung the door of the safe open.
Thank God, I thought to myself at the timing of his exclamation.
A long whistle followed as the man got a good luck at what was inside the safe. “Wow!” he exclaimed, “I’ve opened bank safes with less cash than this one has!”
One of the lab techs stepped in then, unceremoniously herding the locksmith out of the apartment.
I quickly walked over to the open safe and squatted in front of it. Piles and piles of $100 bills stared back at me, neatly bundled in $10,000.00 bands.
“Must be at least a half million in there,” Allen said over my shoulder.
I nodded as I spied a polished wooden box on the bottom shelf. Reaching in with my gloved hand, I gingerly pu
lled the box out of the safe and laid open the lid.
“Eureka!”
Inside were a dozen passports, many of them from different countries. Carefully opening one after another revealed various incarnations of our dead assassin’s face. Surprisingly, most of them were of him in the guise of a woman.
Working through them again, I found where he had visited all of the countries on Raven and May’s list of murder victims… plus many more!
How many people had actually been murdered?
I shook my head in frustration as I handed the box to Allen.
“He has traveled extensively. No telling how many people got caught up in this plot Allen.”
Allen shook his head sadly, “I’ll get someone working on trying to find any correlating deaths to his travels.”
He gingerly handed the box to a passing tech, asking him to go through it immediately and get it back to him. Nodding, the tech took it out to their mobile lab.
“Have we found anything yet that points to anyone else being involved?” Allen asked when he turned back toward me.
“Not that I know of,” I answered quickly… and truthfully for that matter. I didn’t actually know if Preacher had in fact found anything out yet
“Ok,” Allen sighed, “Keep me informed.”
At that, he turned on his heal and stormed out of the apartment.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I kneeled once more in front of the safe, taking in the sight of the thousands of Benjamin Franklins watching me.
At least they weren’t pictures of George Washington…screaming at me about never telling a lie!
Chapter 66
September 26, 1999
The boy was skittish.
Kneeling on the dirt floor of the oppressively hot shed, the sweat was already soaking through his long-sleeved dress shirt and pants.
Looking behind him every few minutes, he cautiously listened for anyone that might be approaching.
Getting caught in his fantasy would earn him the anger of Roy’s wrath.
God had nothing on Roy where wrath was concerned.
He had been holding his breath. Suddenly realizing it, he exhaled with a shudder before gulping in the relatively fresh air of the dingy shack.
Setting the pieces just so, he leaned back to look at it from a different angle.
It was perfect!
Sweat dripped on one of the pieces from his finger. Frantic, he picked up the paper woman, gently wiping her against his slacks before she was ruined.
Stupid, stupid, stupid, he muttered to himself angrily as he set the mostly dry woman back in her place.
Looking quickly behind him again, he sat quietly for a few moments, listening intently for Roy’s footfalls.
Here’s a snack Billy, the boy started immediately in a high voice as he turned around again, moving the paper cutout mom over toward the son. You will need nourishment to keep up those excellent grades of yours! she smiled with pride.
The paper dad had been placed sitting by the small pile of rocks that represented the warm fireplace.
Say son! the boy intoned in a deeper voice, After Little League practice, why don’t we hit the ice-cream stand on the way home!
That would be keen dad! Can I get chocolate?
You can get any flavor you want son! And as much as you want too! Nothing’s too good for my son!
The boy grinned, the warmth in his heart now matching the heat of the shed.
He hadn’t noticed the slight squeak of the hinge behind him, but a spear of fear punctured his spine when he heard Roy revving up behind him.
Roy always revved up when the wrath-ing got started…sounding like a motor getting started….initially sputtering but finally smoothing out to a powerful roar.
“What….do…you… think you is doing…BOY!”
The boy stood up on shaky legs, squeezing his eyes shut as he covered his head with his gangly arms. He could feel the warm wetness running down his legs, knowing that first blow was coming sure as the sunrise.
“You doubting the Lord’s plan boy?” the dark-haired man at the door nearly screamed. “Our family ain’t good enough so you gotta pretend you got a different one?”
The man dressed in the long-sleeved white dress shirt unbuckled his belt as he spoke, his eyes wide with the wildness of the righteous.
The one who doubts is like a wave of the sea that is driven and tossed by the wind, the man screamed as he swung the belt over his head and lashed it out toward the boy like an ecclesiastical whip. Every fiber of being in the man went into his swing as the highly polished buckle landed squarely on the back of the boy’s head.
***
Bill shuddered as he turned from the shed.
Pastor Roy Jakes was a Primitive Baptist Preacher that had entered Bill’s life when he was six.
That life had been ruined by the time he was eight.
A year after arriving in their town, Pastor Roy’s wife had mysteriously disappeared. Soon he was courting Bill’s recently widowed mom, promising her a new life full of God’s grace as they built a new church from the ground up.
It was well known around town that Bill’s mom had some money. His dad had been a generous man and had loved giving his friends and family gifts. No one was surprised then, when his final gift to his family was his quarter million dollar life insurance payout.
Theirs had been the perfect family, full of love, caring, and sharing. The death of his dad had been hard, but Bill and his mom had each other to lean on, and it was all they needed.
At least…that’s what Bill had believed.
Pastor Roy covertly appealed to his mom’s giving nature, filling her head with visions of a glorious monument to the Lord while simultaneously filling the lonely void left by his dad’s passing.
Their world changed the moment they got home from the wedding ceremony.
Determined to make sure that the boy and his new wife knew the value of sacrifice, Roy immediately put his version of family life into effect.
The money was for the new church!
Period!
Fun was effectively banned, getting into heaven was a fulltime job. Bible study replaced their TV and games, and mealtimes were when Roy practiced his preaching.
The wrath of Roy could come at any time!
Looking back at the ramshackle shed again, Bill let the sadness swell within his chest until he thought his heart would burst.
He had had his shed built to model the one of his childhood…a constant reminder of his loss…the driving force of his life today.
Roy had gone to jail for what he had done to Bill that day, his mother finally seeing Roy for what he was. Bill had been taken to the hospital in a coma, waking up five days later to find that he was an orphan.
His mom’s grief at her lack of judgment had haunted her, eating away at her soul as her son languished in the hospital. The pills she took softened the pain, and the more she took, the more the pain diminished.
She finally escaped the pain on the forth day.
Bill, having no other relatives, was relegated to the foster system. But Bill was already starting his transformation to the dark side. Placements with normal families would last three months tops, and the ones with families worse than that sometimes lasted only days.
When he was sixteen, Bill suddenly disappeared, escaping the system that had caged him for eight years.
The Bill in that shed years ago had taken many names since then…but never a real identity. He was a ghost, intent on taking with no thought of other’s grief.
Entering his house, Bill made his way determinedly to his bedroom. Standing in front of his dresser, he methodically unclasped his Vacheron-Constantin watch, setting it delicately on a mahogany butler’s tray. Reaching into his pockets, he pulled out his silver money clip and his plush leather cash wallet, laying them reverently alongside the watch. Slipping the gold ring easily off of his right ring finger, he held it lovingly in his fingertips as he studied it.
&nbs
p; Of his own design, the ring displayed what he now called his family crest. Having started with a Christian cross, he added an angled slash through the center of the cross, upper left to lower right. Beneath the horizontal arm, an S snaked its way down the vertical base. At the bottom of the cross were two black diamonds, one on each side.
Adding the angled slash through the cross represented Roy’s contribution to his life, a false religion created by a maniacal subhuman. The diamonds represented his parents, valuable… and yet their deaths glistening dark in his soul.
He smiled as he considered the S, bisected through with the base of the cross as it created the symbol for money.
It was truly the base of everything now.
Setting the ring on the lacquered wood with the rest of the items, he lifted the tray and moved to the door of the vault. Setting it down momentarily, he dialed in the combination and swung open the heavy door before again lifting the tray by its silver handles. Setting it in place on the waist-high shelf to his right, he slid his fingers tenderly along the side of the mahogany before moving deeper into the vault.
As he reached the back, he got down on his knees, reaching under the bottom shelf and pulling out a plain, cardboard box. Pulling open the flaps, he extracted a storage bag from inside it and placed it on the shelf in front of him. Breaking the seal, he cringed as a small waft of odor hit him… the scent of his past.
Steeling himself, he slid the seal the rest of the way open, removing the contents and laying them beside the now-empty bag.
Standing then, he slipped off his shoes and pushed them neatly under the shelf. Unbuckling his belt next, he continued shedding clothes until he was finally naked, his garments neatly folded on a shelf.
Taking a deep breath, he picked up the ratty underwear taken from the bag and slid them on. The thick old gray socks were next, followed by the denim pants, tee shirt and light blue chambray shirt.
The “uniform” he was forced to wear at the home when not placed with a family still fit. But more importantly, it transported him back to those desperate days, a time when the fear and determination had formed in him the courage to escape…and the courage to commit his first murder.
