Fear Factors

by Peter Sacco

  Several government officials could be seen making regular deposits and withdrawals, according to a source close to Nagle. This was only one of the many possible safe houses believed to be Monger’s address. There were hundreds of other possibilities situated throughout the United States. This particular office

  in Buffalo, New York was low on the totem pole. Nagle had been so close, yet so far.

  Tomorrow, on Christmas day, Monger was expecting a large Christmas gift. Just as they received many of their other supplies from across the Canadian border, Monger was receiving his large gift via the Peace Bridge. The shipment was due to arrive that morning at the Toronto airport on a jet belonging to a diplomat. There would be no difficulty passing through Canadian customs. It would be as easy as blowing one’s nose. The cargo would then be shipped by truck to Buffalo. It was an estimated two and a half hours from Toronto to its destination in Buffalo. There would be papers for the U.S. customs officials at the Peace Bridge informing them what was on board was being sent to Washington and it had been waived by customs officials in Washington. The freight should not be opened, inspected or tampered with in any way. It was top secret. It was to reach Washington as soon as possible. It certainly did not hurt Monger’s cause to have members of W.A.S.P. in the oval office. If all went as planned, Monger was going to get the ultimate Christmas gift, courtesy of his pals in Switzerland. His gift had been held in Switzerland for some time now. It was now being delivered into the wrong hands – his hands.

  Back in Washington, Nagle had received word his men had found Ruth Handley, Monger’s on again, off again lady friend. Like Monger, she had been true to the W.A.S.P. cause and had groomed herself to look the part. Her once long, flowing blonde hair had been shaved to the skull. The small swastika on her temple was her bond to Monger’s dream. She epitomized what Nagle believed was how a true bitch should look.

  Handley was deaf and mute to Nagle’s men. They had given up trying to question her. She was a true rebel and would surely die for her cause, rather than chirp like a bird. With Nagle now on the scene, perhaps he could play therapist and get his patient to open up and share. At least he would try. His empathetic listening skills were more barbaric than your typical therapist. All he really wanted to do was bury his fist in the bitch’s mouth and use a little physical coercion to make her talk instead of getting warm and fuzzy. He didn’t do those nasty things any more but still had those thoughts which was of little consolation. Nagle could still fantasize and they couldn’t take that away.

  “Allow me to introduce myself, Ms. Handley. I’m special agent Terence Nagle,” he said extending his hand. You must be Monger’s ugly broad, he thought to himself.

  Handley ignored his salutation completely and did not bat an eyelid. Nagle realized he probably was not going to get very far. As much as he was pissed off beyond worldly proportions with these skin heads, he was going to have to remain calm and collected. He was remembering at the moment what he had been taught in his special training about how these groups of people thrive under adverse situations. They goaded you along with their silence and sneers. They wanted you to explode in their faces. They knew they would beat you if you let them. It was probably the reason McGilvert and Shaw, the two other special agents sitting across from Nagle, hadn’t gotten anywhere.

  McGilvert’s red hot Irish temper was probably at the melting point right about now. McGilvert had a special interest in stopping the skinheads. He despised the Micks and the Brits who were using their ethnic heritage to justify their killing. Nagle motioned to the two agents to leave the room. Perhaps the good cop bad cop routine had worn itself out in the first minute over two hours ago. Also, he didn’t want the two of them to see him sweat. Perhaps there was something to the insecurity thing after all. That’s all he needed was to lose his temper and beat the shit out of the broad. Judging by their demeanor, he was sure they would help, if not cheer him on. No, he was going to stay calm and collected. Cool as a cucumber, he thought.

  Nagle had to try a new tactic. He was going to try and charm the bitch. He was going to dress in his sheep’s clothing. He had heard from sources something big was going down within the next week or so, and he didn’t have time to play the “What’s my line?” bullshit with Handley. He needed information now. The two agents exited the room and Nagle was now positioned face to face with Handley.

  “Can I offer you a smoke?” Nagle asked sliding the box across the table.

  Handley took out a smoke and placed it on her lips without looking up. Nagle lit it for her, their eyes never meeting. “How’s your friend Charlie?”

  Handley did not answer.

  “Heard he’s having a big New Year’s bash.”

  Handley remained silent. Her lips formed a circle and she exhaled a smoke donut. Nagle felt his right fist begin to clinch below the table. Just one shot to the head he wished to himself. The thought brought a tiny smile to his face. Cathartically, it calmed him. He smiled at her, as he tugged his sheep’s clothing tighter. “Are you a real bad ass like Charlie, Ruth?”

  Handley coughed out a sarcastic laugh. Nagle realized he had hit on something sensitive. This was the first sign of any form of expression Handley had displayed. “So you are a bad ass, Ruth. Life means nothing to you, does it? Monger has taught you real well, hasn’t he? Are you going to be a part of the New Year’s festivities or has Chuck gotten himself a new flavor of the month?”

  “Why don’t you off?” snapped Handley.

  “If it was that easy, I would.” Nagle replied calmly.

  Inside, he felt his blood beginning to boil once more. He wanted to snap her neck like a pencil, and crap down her throat. That would be too easy. She would win. It would be a stupid bitch causing him to lose his job and it would be a cold day in hell before he ever let that happen. He recited mantras to himself he learned from group. They were working. He would remain calm. It had always been his coolness in these situations other agents admired. If they only knew what he thought. “If I have to sit here all night with you, Ruth, I will. There are innocent people dying because your boyfriend feels he needs to be heard. How far do we have to go? Does there have to be more innocent bloodshed?”

  “And you think by stopping him, you’re going to stop the cause?” Handley asked hoarsely.

  Nagle was somewhat surprised she answered his questions. He had used it because he was running out of ideas. Whatever bait he was using was working. ”By stopping Monger, we’re possibly preventing a catastrophe.”

  Handley began to laugh at Nagle. “You really believe if you stop Charlie you are going to stop the W.A.S.P. movement? Give me a break. You Washington assholes think you have us all figured out.”

  “We’re a lot smarter than you think, Handley.”

  “Not smart enough,” snorted Handley.

  “Then why don’t you help me become smarter.”

  Handley did not answer. Nagle was beginning to feel more relaxed. Any rage had passed. He felt good. He was in his domain. “According to our sources, Ruth, you haven’t seen Charlie for some time now. Say five or six weeks? What happened? Lover’s spat? Did you become expendable? Did you no longer fit in?”

  Handley was quiet.

  “We’ve had you tailed, Ruth. I can tell you what time you get up in the morning. What you ate for breakfast. When you piss. When you shit. I can tell you...”

  “Everything, but where Charlie is,” Handley interrupted.

  Nagle was silent for a moment.

  “You know, Nagle, Charlie knows your every step. He even knows when you jerk off,” chuckled Handley. “He wanted you to find me. I am your appetite wetter.” She hesitated for a moment and then snickered. “Charlie wanted to know if you’ve had any clam chowder lately?”

  Those words screeched his ears like feedback from a guitar amp. She had the nerve to open that pie hole and say it to his face! He wanted to
plow her into kingdom come. Stay calm! Monger was trying to pull his chain by using her. Shit, the last pull was one hell of a tug on the old heart strings. Monger was playing a game, but he didn’t know what it was. The two were quiet for a moment and stared intensely at one another.

  “Charlie’s right. That’s the problem with you jack offs,” chuckled Handley, breaking the silence. “You really believe you can save the world from itself.”

  “Someone has to,” answered Nagle snidely.

  “Then why don’t you leave it in capable hands?”

  “Monger’s hands?”

  “Monger’s just a puppet, getting things ready.”

  Nagle realized Handley had let something slip out she did not want to. Aggressively, Nagle was about to pounce all over her, like a junkyard dog on prime rib, but resolved himself.

  “What is Charlie getting ready to do?” asked Nagle calmly.

  “Everything that concerns you.”

  “Does he have some cornball master plan for saving the world? Like that asshole could really save the world from itself.”

  Handley did not respond. She felt the weight of his stare. Nagle realized his bait, calmness, was failing him. Most times in the past he would revert to the ballistic screaming and it would jar memories. This one was different. She was here of her own free will. Monger had sent her. It was too easy. Nagle had a knack for smelling bullshit and there was not a shovel big enough to move this pile. He felt like he was playing a game of chess with Monger. Monger just moved his bishop and Nagle was thinking about his next move. Handley stared at the wall and thought about the last time she saw Charlie. Nagle’s men had started tailing her after she had seen Monger. Then all of a sudden she shows up in the hospital beaten up. When questioned about what had happened, she clammed up. Claimed she couldn’t remember what happened. Before the agents arrived, the original report made by police was she had been mugged. And Nagle really believed the police report. Hardly!

  On the night Ruth had been taken to the hospital, she had met with Monger earlier in the day. Ruth, who was twenty-seven, had left home when she was twenty, but had been living with her grandfather who was a World War II veteran. He had been confined to a wheel chair after both of his hips and knees succumbed to arthritis. Rather than visit every day, she would bunk there regularly. Her grandfather opposed the cause Ruth supported. Ruth was serving as a messenger for Monger. He had recruited her right out of college. She would serve as his pick up whenever new information was due to arrive. That was, when he was not screwing her.

  Monger had told her he had feelings for her, but Ruth was beginning to realize they were strictly below the waist. Ruth had been a very attractive woman. With the skinhead, tattoo, earrings and nose rings, you would never have known. A couple of days before Ruth’s mugging, she had run an errand for Monger. It was quite simple. A telegram was coming in from Switzerland and she was to pick it up from another member at a local pub. She always went alone, as Monger was always in hiding. He had dropped off the face of the earth and Nagle hadn’t had the slightest clue where to look. They had only found out about Ruth following her alleged mugging, which Nagle thought was both strategic and purposeful.

  After receiving the envelope, Ruth did something she never ever did. She went to her grandfather’s house instead of going home. She was so tired she crashed the minute her head hit the sofa. The envelope had fallen out of her pocket. Her grandfather, who was awake at five every morning found it and brought it into the kitchen with him. There he opened it and read what the letter was about. He had suspected his granddaughter was up to no good and wanted to know how deep she had gotten herself in. He never went through anyone’s mail, however when it had a swastika on the seal, he was inclined to look.

  It was the scariest letter he would ever read. It was so frightening that bile filled his throat. It was ludicrous this could ever happen! Ruth’s grandfather sat motionless in the kitchen for hours, the letter sat on the kitchen table in front of him. Ruth sauntered into the kitchen and saw her grandfather had opened the letter. Immediately, she grabbed it away and tucked it back into the envelope. She screamed at her grandfather and cursed him for reading her mail. Her grandfather chastised her in German and threatened to call the police and tell them what was in the letter. Ruth argued with her grandfather, and suggested he forget what he had read. Ruth, herself, did not know what the information was.

  Her grandfather was so upset he was becoming more and more incoherent as he babbled in German. Finally, Ruth tossed on a clean sweatshirt and left with the letter. She would get this to Monger before he found out about anything. Unfortunately, Monger already knew. He was always cautious of weak links in his organization and he suspected Ruth of being a potential screw up. He had the old geezer’s house bugged from day one. Monger was aware the old geezer knew what was going down. The old geezer would not see twelve noon. Immediately after Ruth left the house, her grandfather had a serious untimely fall down the back stairs. Funny her grandfather never went near them, but on this morning, he was helped to his death.

  Monger let on that nothing happened when Ruth brought the letter to him. He gave her the usual kiss on the forehead and grabbed her ass. He told her he had another assignment for her that afternoon. She would meet one of the contacts who was coming in from California, as he had an important updated letter. In the meantime she was to help Monger with firearm inventory.

  Later that day, Ruth waited at a bar for her visitor from California. She was told if he did not show within one half hour of the scheduled rendezvous, she was to fly the coop. The informer did not show. Ruth left the place out the back as instructed and there she was stabbed several times in the chest. Whoever tried to take her out did not get the job done because they were interrupted by someone passing by. Luckily for Ruth she was rushed to the hospital and survived the attack. Days later she learned of her grandfather’s death and put the pieces together. That son of a bitch Monger wanted her dead. Unfortunately for the asshole, she was not the only one who had screwed up that day. His assassin was probably buried in some new sub division. How Nagle was able to put things together was a mystery to her.

  One of Nagle’s men had stumbled onto Ruth from a picture following her attack. A picture had been broadcast on the news and the agent recognized seeing her in a picture with Monger. After further investigation, they then found out her grandfather had also died on the day she had been attacked. The house had been ransacked and trashed. Coincidence or what? She played dumb with them and said it was some kind of coincidence. They bought it. She knew it was a matter of time before Monger finished the job on her. What Handley found interesting was she was still alive, weeks later seated across from Nagle. Why hadn’t they killed her? Monger was using her. She had become one of his chess pieces, but which one?

  “What are you thinking about, Ruth?”

  Handley did not answer him. She could feel a tear starting to burn the corner of her eye. She couldn’t get the thought of her grandfather falling down the stairs out of her mind. Whatever connection she had to Monger was slowly becoming frayed. How could she protect the son of a bitch? Did he not try to kill her? Did he not have her grandpa killed? Nagle realized these kinds of thoughts must be racing through her mind. The cognitive distortions were becoming more lucid. He had seen this many times with cult members, even kidnapped victims, who continued to protect their abductor even though they had been brutally exploited. He knew she wanted to say something.

  “He betrayed you, Ruth, didn’t he?” Nagle asked compassionately.

  Ruth felt like sobbing. She couldn’t show any emotion. She was trained not to give into personal feelings because they weaken the individual and weaken the cause. Where was your loyalty, Ruth? Your strength, she asked herself. She knew she was going to break down in front of Nagle. It was her damn grandfather’s wheelchair crashing down those stairs. Those same stairs he used to carry h
er down on his back when she was a little girl.

  “He was responsible for your grandfather’s death. And he was the reason you almost lost your life, wasn’t he?”

  Nagle knew he was close. He watched her eyes closely and studied her body language. She kept twitching and fidgeting. He had to strike now. Snag her while she nibbled on the bait. He could feel her trying to wriggle away. The stress was becoming too much for her. The redness in her eyes was bleeding anxiety. He could feel her cracking. He had to strike now!

  “He’s going to kill you, you know. You got lucky the first time. It was no accident you were attacked, but it was an accident you lived.” Nagle really didn’t believe his last statement. If Monger really wanted her dead, there would not have been any mix up. He left her alive, as for what reason, he did not know.

  “Tell me, Ruth, is your life really worth protecting the cause? Do you want to end up like all of those innocent people the cause is eliminating? Was your grandfather’s death part of the plan?”

  Ruth cleared her throat and slowly her lips parted. “How come I’m not dead yet?”

  “We’ve been watching you since the attack.”

  “How come you didn’t question me sooner?”

  “We were hoping Monger or someone close might show themselves.”