The Killing Collective

by Gary Starta

  “Amen to that. Oh shoot, Ah almost forgot! Deputy Director Fischetti said not to bother stoppin’ here first, but as long as Ah did, Ah might as well give you an update before Ah catch my plane. Arthur Moreland, the temporary curator at the Cloisters, has somethin’ to do with this.”

  Carter interrupted. “What makes you believe that, Agent Deeprose? If he knows who the killer is, why use a painting to send us a clue? Why not just tell us what he knows? Now slow down and start again.”

  “Damn! Everybody’s tellin’ me the same thing today.”

  She reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled up copy of a newspaper article. It was an obituary. “Ah have here an obituary for a Mr. Montgomery, of the Meese Corporation in Langley, Virginia. Take a look at this photo. It’s a few years old, an’ he looks quite different now, but that’s the spittin’ image of Mr. Moreland, sure as Ah’m standin’ here. Dontcha see? Montgomery is posin’ as Moreland. Montgomery’s wife was murdered a short while before he resigned; it was never solved. If he thought Meese had anything to do with it…”

  Carter was confused. “Wait a minute. Are you saying he may have stolen the drug for revenge or blackmail? But then why would he want the curator dead and why help us find Michael?”

  “To point us in the right direction! My theory is that he helped us find the ballet school and Michael to lead us to the manufacturer without involvin’ himself. He couldn’t have known Michael had another vial, but he’d have known Michael would still have it in his system when we picked him up.”

  Seacrest was all ears. “Okay, I’ll bite. What makes you think the Meese Corporation had anything to do with Montgomery’s wife’s death? Why assume the drug came from there just because Mr. Montgomery worked there?”

  “Deputy Director Fischetti told me to see if I could connect Meese to the drug and Montgomery’s disappearance. His job at the museum where Michael committed the murder and who was in possession of the drug is too coincidental to be overlooked. Mr. Montgomery’s wife died horribly. It may provide us with motive and opportunity, but y’all are right; we need to know why the curator was specifically targeted.”

  Carter stared at Deeprose and asked her in a soft, calm voice, “When did Fischetti tell all this to you?”

  “Yesterday morning when Ah got back from Senator Pressman’s office in D.C., Ah came in to make my report. He said he received a tip on Meese from a source he referred to as ‘Mr. X’. After that, Ah headed straight home and started combin’ the web to find answers. Ah came in this mornin’ to give him an update on what Ah found, and all of a sudden Ah’m on my way to the airport again. This time to Langely, Virginia on a fishin’ trip.”

  “That bastard! He intentionally kept me out of the loop. If you hadn’t stopped down here by chance, I’d never have known you even left! Agent Deeprose, moving forward, I want you to keep me in the Intel loop every step of the way, and I want that Intel before the deputy director gets it. He’s using Seacrest’s experience this weekend as a convenient excuse to take advantage of your rookie status. He also knows you can’t say no to him, and I don’t like it.”

  He started to pace. “I am very concerned, Agent Deeprose. There are more questions here than you know. Why does the deputy director believe this tip and who exactly is this Mr. X? How can we be sure we can trust him? This doesn’t feel right. Not right at all.”

  Is this Sunday, for heaven’s sake, or ‘Freaky Friday’? Did they switch bodies while Ah was in D.C. and forget to tell me? Carter’s losin’ it and Jill is grounded. This musta been one helluva weekend.

  “Agent Carter, Ah admit Ah had some serious doubts about Fischetti when Ah first came on here, but he stepped up to the plate for us, sir. He fought Breen, bullied Jill’s supervisor for extra lab time and broke the law six ways from Sunday to keep half of that drug for us to examine. Ah don’t think we can dismiss that so easily.

  “Ah’m not sayin’ he isn’t a fox in the henhouse, but for goodness sake, give him the benefit of the doubt! The only reason you weren’t filled in was because you had your own hands full. He’s sick with worry about Jill. He said it was his fault if anything happened to her. Ah really don’t think he’s tryin’ to leave y’all in the dark.”

  Her comment had the immediate effect of a slap in the face. “I apologize. You’re right, of course, but he is responsible for letting her take that drug, and he should be worried sick about it. How can I be sure she’s going to be O.K?”

  He stopped talking to take a few slow, deep breaths. “All right. All right. I don’t like it, but I have no say in it. Proceed with extreme caution, and contact me if anything, and I mean anything, happens that you can’t handle alone.”

  Seacrest derailed them both with a new thought. “You know, it occurs to me there’s another question we need to answer, based on my own experience with the drug. What if Red only thinks he left the Collective without ingesting the drug?”

  Deeprose pressed her lips together. She hadn’t had time to process Jill’s assumptions, and now she was frightened for Red. “Ah see where y’all are headin’ with this. He may have taken the drug and committed a murder; we have to face that. Ah’d like to be the one to check on his whereabouts before he came to the jazz club on Friday night. It shouldn’t be too difficult to retrace his steps.”

  “Fine. Oh! Before you go, I want you to have this.” Carter rummaged around in his wet pockets.

  “Ooooo! What’s that?” Shania marveled at the sparkling brilliance of a deep green-black gem in Carter’s hand.

  “The stuff that stars are made of, Agent. This little stone was part of a meteorite that crashed here over a thousand years ago. It’s called Moldavite, named for Moldavia, where it landed. It’s almost completely mined out by now and very hard to get. I want you to have it because it’s got an extremely high energy content - one you can actually feel. Here, hold it lightly between your thumb and forefinger in your non-dominant hand. Feel it? It is said to increase mental focus and clarity of thought. I want to know you’re carrying it with you. We both do.”

  “Thank you!” She held the stone in her palm for a few moments, feeling its slight buzzing motion before placing it in her pocket. “Ah never believed in this crystal stuff, sir, but this feelin’ is real! Thank you; I’ll cherish it. Jill... take it easy, O.K.?”

  As Deeprose left the building, she expected to smell dried leaves mixed with earth in the dry, chilly air. Instead, she smelled the heady scent of garbage mixed with exhaust fumes from a million old cars jammed up on Church Street.

  Funny, Ah was the one who originally felt Fischetti had somethin’ up his sleeve. Ah was sure he wasn’t tellin’ me what he was tellin’ Agent Carter. Now Agent Carter feels the same way.

  ***

  Deeprose sipped coffee in Jane Kerrington’s cozy, little office. She was Meese’s personnel manager. The woman knew her business, and Shania didn’t have to be a veteran to know she’d have to outsmart Ms. Kerrington if she was going to get anything out of her. It was against the law to divulge information from personnel records without a court order; they both knew that. Deeprose planned to come on very subtly using Kerrington’s own sense of pride to soften her up; her sense of sympathy and duty to open her up; and her spill the beans. It was a fait accompli.

  Ah hope.

  “Thanks for sittin’ down with me today, Ms. Kerrington. Ah’m told y’all have teamed up with the surroundin’ feeder colleges and high schools to work out new curricula that will help residents obtain jobs 21st century jobs right here at home.”

  “Yes, we have, and it’s worked out better than we hoped.”

  “Reachin’ out to the local communities meant making a conscious decision to put a name and face back on a relatively anonymous organization. Are you enjoyin’ that end of recruitin’?”

  Kerrington was surprised and flattered that the F.B.I. noted and admired her P.R. campaign at the school level. “I do! I enjoy it very much. We conduct presentations at local universities, advertise
on online job sites, use job placement specialists, and utilize social media for recruiting sand staffing purposes. We also work with college and high school administrators and teachers to develop courses that will prepare students for careers in research and development, design and engineering, and the sciences and mathematics. We’re a true part of this community now.”

  Deeprose felt this was the time to come to the point. “Speakin’ of the local community Ms. Kerrington, perhaps y’all can help us in a current case of some importance.”

  “Me?”

  “Ms. Kerrington. Y’all have a relationship with the surroundin’ communities. The executives provide input, Ah’m sure, maybe they do some mentorin’ here and there, but you’re the face of the Meese Corporation, am Ah Right?”

  Kerrington blushed outright. “Well, I guess you could say that…”

  “This case has nothin’ at all to do with Meese, but it could be of extreme importance in solvin’ it. It requires a break in normal protocol, but this investigation goes up so high that Ah gotta be sure Ah can trust my source implicitly. The person who helps us break this case will receive the Congressional Medal of Honor.”

  “The what?”

  Reel her in, Shania. Fast!

  “Ah need to verify the date of death for a past employee. One little date, and you’d be a national hero, Ms. Kerrington. If Ah go through proper channels, our man’s gonna get away. Once Ah leave here, Ah can’t risk comin’ back. Ah need the date now. Will you help us?”

  “I can’t help unless I know who it is you’re talking about. If it’s commonly known information, I can discuss it without opening a file.”

  She can? Holy shit! The manager of personnel is also the office gossip! Oh, pleeeeease make this common knowledge…

  “His name was Clayton Artemus Montgomery. He resigned and passed on shortly afterwards.”

  The color drained out of Kerrington’s face.

  She knew him! Let’s see what else she knows.

  “He’s got no survivors and no distant relatives. You can help us get justice for him, Ms. Kerrington. If I can get that date of his death and the details y’all are obviously familiar with, Ah can help catch his killer.”

  Kerrington whispered, “Killer? You mean he was murdered?”

  “Ah do, Ms. Kerrington. What can you tell me?”

  “Mr. Montgomery left the company at least a few years ago. We don’t keep files that old here, so there’s no hard data to pull.”

  “But the records are all in a central database, aren’t they? And you’re in charge of the online records, too. It’d be perfectly O.K. for y’all to go into the database lookin’ for Artemus and accidentally come up with Artemus Montgomery, wouldn’t it? Ah mean, that must happen all the time. Slip of the wrist.”

  She paused again. “The thing is, Agent, non-disclosure law is very definite concerning personnel records. That information is protected even after the death of an employee. I could lose my job…”

  Hurry up, you’re losin’ her!

  Deeprose appeared completely without guile. “Yes, you could. And work for the highest bidder, instead. Maybe start your own high-end recruitin’ and staffin’ firm. Or just kick back and enjoy all those interviews on the mornin’ shows and C.N.N. Or write a book and retire.”

  She rushed ahead. “Ah’m not tryin’ to be facetious, Ms. Kerrington; all Ah need is a teeny tiny answer to my one and only question. How about it?”

  “Well…what is it you want to know? I can’t promise I know anything of value.”

  In a pig’s eye.

  “If you can’t recall date of death, can you tell me anythin’ about his state of mind when he resigned? Was he upset or angry about anythin’?”

  Kerrington began to see the trap she set for herself and tried to back off, stuttering and blinking her eyes rapidly. “He worked at one of our pharmaceutical research facilities, not here at the corporate office.”

  Rush her with questions, and don’t give her time to think before she answers.

  “Was there a misunderstandin’, disagreement, or fallin’ out between Mr. Montgomery and the folks he worked with? What was the nature of the misunderstandin’?”

  Kerrington’s face reddened. “There was no problem from a corporate standpoint. Back in his day, we maintained a committee that voted on which of our projects would receive further funding to conduct the research and development needed to present to the military for purchase. However, it only required one vote to kill a project that would have been in the preliminary stages of development for years. This practice was put in place strictly for failsafe purposes and Mr. Montgomery was well aware of that. We wanted to prevent a majority vote from approving a project if even one member saw it as a potential danger. There may have been some ruffled feathers in the past between Mr. Montgomery and the board when a project was shelved, but it’s their call and no one else’s. In any case, they were disbanded a few year ago. Most researchers are able to move on to other projects when theirs are rejected. Sometimes one or two don’t bounce back, but that’s nobody’s fault.”

  Don’t jump on that one yet; get the dates she does remember, first.

  “Do you remember when this board you spoke of was disbanded? That might give me a timeframe to work with.”

  “Oh, that was about two years ago.”

  “So, approximately two years ago Mr. Montgomery was still here. He left before they were disbanded. That helps. Who’s on the board?”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t…”

  “No problem. But you did say he resigned because one of his researcher’s inventions was turned down for fundin’. Who was the scientist?”

  Kerrington blushed. “I didn’t say that at all. I just wanted to explain his position here as a project manager of military biologicals and the framework in which he operated. There would have been no reason, to the best of my knowledge, that Mr. Montgomery would have had any issues with Meese. His position was never in jeopardy, even if his researchers’ projects were rejected, and he moved steadily upward in the ranks of management. It would have been a very rewarding job, Agent.”

  Ah’m sure it was…

  Deeprose paused and glanced at her watch. “Well, Ah think that’s all Ah need for now, Ms. Kerrington. Thank you so very much for your time and help. It is most appreciated, and please feel free to contact me with anythin’ else that comes to mind.”

  Kerrington looked vastly relieved. “That’s all? All you wanted to know about was the nature of his job? Why, anyone who knew his title could find that out on our jobsite. There’s no law against that.”

  The two women rose. Deeprose shook her hand and got the hell out of there before Kerrington realized what she’d just told her.

  Ah see they’re still givin’ out diplomas at Moron University. Hmmm, a mysterious board of approvers who had him by the short hairs combined with a favorite researcher who got the ax and his wife’s murder. Well, now Ah know why Montgomery resigned and when. It won’t be difficult to find out whose projects got the ax before he left. There’s always a disgruntled employee somewhere dyin’ to give you the lowdown.

  She was antsy to get back to New York to check on Jill and to see if Red might have tried to reach her with a location of the next meeting of the Collective.

  He has an awful crush on me. An’ now he trusts me. Ah only hope we don’t wind up on the opposite side of the fence when this is over and done with.

  The sudden thought of a crush reminded her that Wilson might have been trying to contact her over the weekend. Deeprose hadn’t checked her private messages in a few days. After searching her texts and email, she finally found his messages in her spam folder.

  Oh my, he’s goin’ to think Ah’m just terrible.

  Deeprose smiled. Sometimes it wasn’t such a bad idea to keep a gentleman waiting.

  Guilty as charged.

  ***

  The door to Clara’s apartment flew open. Eliza cursed a blue streak and flopped down into a chair
to tell the girls everything that had happened to her and Michael since the last time they’d all been together.

  “I’ve been knocked around, given the third degree by everyone and their brother, and sent to the hospital. And there’s some lady F.B.I. agent who’s not so convinced that I don’t know Michael from Adam. I’m hot, tired and thirsty.”

  Alison answered her as she walked into the kitchen to get her a glass of wine. “Well we still have a few problems, Eliza, even with Michael out of the way. The Silver Man’s people will be looking for you, I still have to be cleared, and Clara’s still being hunted. So, you’re the only one of us who can get the next meeting address without getting killed or arrested. Can you get invitations to the meeting for us or not? They’ll have to assume, if you answer next invitation, that you don’t recall being dosed or your instructions to kill. They’ll be anxious to get you back there again, don’t you think?”

  “I have the link for the new website already. They emailed it to me today. Hang on while I get in to see if the invitations are there for me. Eliza flashed a twisted smile. Oh, yeah. We’re in.”

  Alison nodded.

  ***

  Deputy Director Fischetti leapt at his phone. He’d been waiting all day to hear the special ring tone that signified an incoming urgent message. The call was from the Special Operations Unit. He began to pray.

  Please God, make it good news.

  “It’s a go, sir. We have the location of the next meeting.”

  Chapter Twenty Two

  The trio hid inside the rhododendron bushes at the site of the next meeting. The plan was to snatch the bag of drugs from the Silver Man’s assistant as she entered the abandoned warehouse in Yonkers. That was Alison’s only bargaining chip. Eliza made it clear she had no intentions of getting herself embroiled in a crazy attempt to save the other two and Michael. She wanted those drugs. Clara kept her mouth shut and let the other two call the shots. Her turn would come.

  Both Alison and Eliza talked a little about the feeling of freedom they’d experienced on the drug. There were no boundaries, no judgment, no right and wrong – only the incredible freeing catharsis of rage which felt so incredibly good.