by J. C. Fields
Chapter 31
Springfield, MO
It was just after four in the morning when Kruger parked the Mustang next to the main entrance of JR’s building. JR, Mia, and Joseph were waiting for them. Mia helped Stephanie with Kristin and escorted them into the building.
Joseph examined Kruger’s face, still black with the shoe polish. “Shoe polish… Really?”
“Necessity demanded improvisation.”
“I’m going to enjoy watching you get it off.” Joseph grinned.
His mood grim, Kruger stared at his old friend. “It worked and that’s all that matters.”
Nodding, Joseph started walking to the door of building. “JR’s made progress while you were driving, and I’ve got several friends watching this place. You’ll be safe until we get you three moved.”
“Thanks, Joseph.” Kruger took a deep breath. “I’m not taking Steph and Kristin back to the house until its back to normal. I don’t want her to see what Bishop did.”
It took several minutes to get Kristin settled in a spare bedroom on the third floor of JR’s building. Mia closed the door and went to the kitchen to make coffee. Stephanie followed, allowing the three men some time alone.
“I’ve been able to isolate Bishop’s Virgin Mobile number,” JR was standing at the top of the staircase. “He’s west of St. Louis at the moment.”
No one spoke for several minutes. Kruger stood, went to his duffel bag and retrieved the cell phone taken from the house. He handed it to JR. “The kidnapper had this on him.”
JR popped the back cover off, stared at it for several seconds, and pried the battery out with his fingernail. Smiling, he eased the SIM card out and held it up like a trophy. “This is good. I can get phone numbers off this, check on who the guy was calling and who called him.”
Kruger sighed, “I’d better call the Kansas City police department and leave a tip about the house.”
Joseph shook his head. “Not necessary.”
“Why?”
“It’s taken care of.”
Kruger looked at Joseph and blinked several times. After a few moments the meaning of what he heard registered. He nodded. “Did you find out anything about him?”
“Not much. We know his name, Mufliha ben Amal, went by the name, Ben.”
Kruger stood and started pacing. “Muslim?”
Joseph nodded slightly. “Malaysian Muslim to be exact. He’s known to the Kansas City police as a part-time pimp and drug dealer. Your bureau thinks he’s a member of Jemaah Islamiyah.”
Kruger stopped pacing and turned to his old friend. “They think?”
Joseph nodded.
“The person Bishop called in Taiwan, is he aligned with this Jemaah Islamiyah?”
Joseph shrugged. “We don’t know who he is calling. But, the group Amal claims allegiance to is aligned with ISIS.”
Turning to JR, Kruger asked, “Can you dig into this a little further?”
JR nodded.
“I’m not up to speed on Jemaah Islamiyah.” Kruger stared pacing again. “The Bureau’s current thinking is Bishop spent most of his time overseas in Thailand, Malaysia and Indonesia. What if this whole takeover of Stephen Bishop and artificial intelligence scam was to provide funding?”
Joseph shook his head. “Don’t know, maybe.”
“After the sale of Blair’s company and the ninety million he has pledged in the scam, we’re talking real money, Joseph. Way over a two hundred million.”
“Still…” He paused, checked his watch and continued. “Let’s find out more about this Mufliha character before we start jumping to conclusions. JR, do you have anything else on him?”
Nodding, JR motioned for them to follow as he walked back down the stairs.
Once he was sitting in his cubicle, he started reading from his computer screen. “He’s been arrested several times for petty thief, possession with intent to distribute, and running a few girls on Troost Avenue. The KCPD didn’t considered him a big time pimp, just a nuisance. I doubt there will be too many tears shed. The house is owned by a large investment group and rented out by a property management company.” JR switched his attention to the adjacent screen. “I found employment documents for him in the management company’s computer. He’s listed as a part-time maintenance man, he mows lawns. I’m guessing he probably knew the house was vacant.”
Kruger’s eyebrows rose. “What about the house? There could be evidence left behind from Stephanie and Kristin’s presence?”
Joseph shook his head and gave Kruger a grim smile. “No, not really.” Joseph looked at his friend. “They weren’t there long enough, and the KCPD will have no reason to check the house because Amal can’t be linked to it.”
Kruger studied his old friend. “Why?”
“Because he and the chair are no longer at the house.”
“Should I ask how you accomplished that?”
“You can ask…”
Nodding, Kruger understood. “But, you won’t tell me.”
Joseph gave him a blank stare.
“Then it never happened.”
With a slight nod, Joseph smiled. “Not unless you tell the Bureau.”
Stephanie came into the living room, said nothing, and sat on the sofa next to Kruger. She yawned and put her head on his shoulder as he wrapped his right arm around her. He yawned immediately. “Adrenaline’s wearing off.”
***
Stephanie was still snoring softly when Kruger woke at eleven. Disorientated at first, the presence of Kristin between them brought him back to reality. JR’s guest bedroom. Kristin was curled up next to her mother. He rose, put on his jeans and the black t-shirt, and went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. As he brushed, he stared at his face in the mirror. Blood shot eyes with dark circles underneath stared back at him. The gray in his hair was more pronounced, and his skin retained an ashen tint from the shoe polish.
In the mirror, he saw Stephanie stagger into the bathroom, her eyes barely open. She wrapped her arms around his waist and placed her head against his back. “Sorry about last night. I never thought it would happen. All those years of you pounding into my head on how to protect myself, and I forgot everything.”
He twisted around in her embrace and put his arms around her. “Don’t blame yourself. I should’ve been there for you.”
“I’ve been a bitch the last couple of weeks, I’m sorry.”
“No, you haven’t. I’ve been gone too much.”
He could feel her head shaking. “No… it’s something else.”
Frowning, he pushed her away from his chest and looked into her eyes. “What?”
“I’m pregnant.”
“How… I thought you couldn’t… Are you sure?” He pulled her to his chest and hugged her tightly.
“My doctor confirmed it Monday. I was going to tell you, but with all the commotion with this Bishop thing, I never found the right time. I’m scared, Sean. I want the baby to be healthy.” A tear slid down her cheek. “What if I’m too old?”
“Nonsense, you’re healthy and take good care of yourself. You’ll do fine.”
“That’s what my doctor said, but she didn’t say it with…” She didn’t finish her sentence.
He took a deep breath and looked down at her. She stared up at him, tears in the corners of her eyes growing heavy. They stood in the embrace for several minutes. “I probably need to reevaluate my arrangement with the Bureau.”
Surprisingly, she nodded.
***
While she took a shower, he lay next to the still sleeping Kristin. He placed his hands behind his head as he lay on the pillow staring at the ceiling. Too many thoughts swirled in his mind as he tried to prioritize his next steps. He couldn’t leave Stephanie and Kristin alone again. She needed calm for the next eight months. But Bishop had to be stopped. .
Kruger heard the shower stop and watched as Kristin opened her eyes, saw him, giggled, smiled, and stretched. Her blues eyes sparkled and her long blond hair wa
s disheveled from a restless night. He hugged her. “Good morning, sleepyhead.” She giggled again and sat up. When she saw Stephanie step out of the bathroom, she squealed with delight. Stephanie was dressed only in a bra and panties with her hair wrapped in a towel. The little girl reached up and laughed as Stephanie scooped her up and held her, their hug lasting longer than usual.
Kruger watched as mother and daughter embraced each other. Guilt and envy swept over him as he realized his numerous absences of late were preventing the bonding between him and his daughter. He smiled, but there was very little joy in the smile. Stephanie said to Kristin, “I bet you’re hungry, let’s go see if we can find some breakfast for you.”
It was close to noon when they emerged from the bedroom. Stephanie still wore the robe she borrowed from Mia, and Kruger remained barefoot. As they entered the living room, Kruger saw a large man sitting on a sofa reading a newspaper. When the man heard them enter the room, he stood and smiled.
“Good morning, sir.”
Kruger smiled. “When did you get back, Sandy?”
“Early this morning. I enjoyed meeting Brian and Michelle. Thank you for the opportunity.”
Kruger shook the man’s hand. “Thanks for going up there on such short notice.”
Sandy Knoll nodded toward several suitcases and a duffel bag on the floor next to a love seat across from where he stood.
“We went by your house this morning, secured it, and brought a few things for you and your family.” He reached down to the sofa, picked up an object, and handed it to Kruger. “I found this in your duffel. Thought you might need it.”
Kruger stared at his FBI ID billfold, the one he placed in his duffel bag the night before. Silently, Kruger nodded and took the folded wallet. He cleared his throat and turned to Stephanie. “Excuse my manners. Stephanie, this is Major Sandy Knoll, he’s a good friend of Joseph’s.”
Stephanie was holding a shy Kristin, whose face was buried in her mother’s neck and hair. “Nice to meet you, Sandy. Excuse me, this little girl is hungry.”
She retreated toward the kitchen, and the two men watched her go. When she was out of the room, Sandy turned back to Kruger. “I have a man on your house, plus several securing this building.”
Kruger smiled grimly, “Thanks.”
Sandy nodded and remained quiet.
JR appeared at the top of the steps leading to the second floor, he saw Kruger and Knoll. “You both better come downstairs I’ve found something.”
Chapter 32
Columbia, MO
Randolph Bishop cursed under his breath as he bit into an apple and stared at the ancient tube-style TV. It was going on twenty-four hours since Amal last answered his phone. Numerous calls to the man’s cell phone went straight to an automated announcement telling him the phone’s voice-mail was not set up. With no way to leave Amal a message, Bishop’s frustration level increased by the minute. Now the idiot had missed three scheduled check-in times. The only reason Bishop could surmise for Amal’s silence was he’d been caught, or he was dead.
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.
