by J. C. Fields
“Why the fuck is the traffic backed up so far?” Bishop was not asking Sara for the answer; he was just talking. She remained quiet.
The Focus was trapped between a large SUV and a tractor trailer unit in unmoving traffic. Guard rails on both sides of the highway prevented any car or truck from steering out of the congestion. They were on the exit ramp of southbound Highway 63 as it merged onto Highway 54 and the bridge crossing the Missouri River. Traffic sat bumper to bumper for at least three quarters of a mile from the bridge crossing the Missouri River north of Jefferson City.
Sara could smell the sweat of the man next to her as he grew more agitated with each passing moment. Emergency lights on the bridge were visible from their location. A tear flowed down her cheek as she sat behind the steering wheel, her efforts to make them go away unsuccessful.
***
The growl of the Mustang GT’s 5.0 liter V8 could be heard above the siren as it screamed south out of Columbia on Highway 63. JR glanced over at the speedometer and noted it was showing one hundred ten miles an hour. He looked in the side rear-view mirror and saw Knoll’s Denali close behind. He turned to Kruger, who was concentrating on his driving. “How long before we get there?”
“Boone told me the car is trapped on an exit ramp. The Highway Patrol has the bridge blocked and is not letting traffic move until we get there. Sara Ferguson’s Ford is between a United Movers semi and a large Cadillac Escapade. We’ll have cover getting to it. We’re about five minutes away.”
JR nodded. “What do you want me to do?”
Kruger was silent for a few moments. “Under your seat is a metal box. It has my back-up weapon. If things go sideways and Bishop gets past Knoll and me, shoot the SOB.”
“Won’t there be other cops involved?”
“Yeah, but I trust you more than I trust them.”
JR nodded. His feelings about Kruger were similar, an uncomplicated blind trust.
Kruger was silent for a few moments. “We have to get the girl out unharmed. I don’t want another innocent woman to be a victim of this monster.”
“How?”
“I’m working on it.”
***
Kruger, Knoll and JR advanced slowly on foot next to the right side guardrail. They were several cars away from the United Mover semi and could not see the Ford Focus yet. Three members of the Highway Patrol SWAT team were on the other side of the ramp advancing at the same pace. They were dressed in full assault gear and would be Knoll and Kruger’s back-up. JR held the small Glock 26 at his side. They stopped just behind the semi, and Kruger turned to Knoll.
“Sandy, as we planned, you handle Bishop, I’ll get the girl.”
Knoll nodded.
Kruger moved to the left side of the semi with Knoll moving toward the Civic on the right. He bent down low as he advanced toward his target.
***
Randolph Bishop was extremely agitated. He looked over at the girl and saw her staring at the Cadillac in front of them, she did not look at him. He took a breath and released the catch on his seat belt. “Don’t move. I’m going to open my door and stand. Maybe I can see a way out of this mess.”
Sara did not respond, but stared straight ahead.
He opened the door, leaned out and stood on his right leg, his left foot still on the car’s floorboard. The sound of car horns, the semi behind them, and all the engines running around them hid the slight click of Sara undoing her seat belt.
Bishop looked around. Nothing was moving. The guardrail next to him kept cars from careening down an embankment after an accident, but now trapped him. He removed his left foot from the floor board and now was fully out of the car. His CZ 9mm was in his right hand at his side, hidden from the surrounding drivers.
Suddenly, the driver’s side door of the Focus flew open, and Sara ran toward the cover of the semi behind them. Bishop brought the CZ up and aimed the weapon at the fleeing woman. He did not see the large man behind him, nor was he aware of the massive elbow connecting with the side of his head.
The CZ hit the roof of the Focus as Bishop collapsed to the highway.
***
Sara watched as the man sitting next to her opened the door and stood up. The noise from the surrounding traffic was more prevalent with the passenger door open. She realized this might be her one chance to escape alive. She slowly released her seat belt and held it as it retracted. As quietly as possible, she pulled the handle to open her door as she watched the man’s torso turn to the rear of the Focus. She stopped from opening the door, waiting for him to turn back to the front. When he did so, she pushed the door open and sprang from the car, running toward the semi as fast as she could.
The sound of a gunshot never materialized as she ran for her life to the safety of the massive semi parked two feet behind her car. As soon as she was past the front of the semi, she ran into a man who grabbed her, and swung her around. “You’re okay now, Sara. You’re safe. I’m with the FBI.”
She gasped and stared up at the tall man who held her, his face illuminated by the headlights of the stalled traffic. It was a kind face smiling down at her. She placed her arms and forehead against his chest and started sobbing.
***
Knoll watched from the shadows of the semi’s tractor as the passenger door of the Focus opened. Randolph Bishop stood up and looked around. Pressing himself against the truck, he kept an eye on his target. When Bishop turned away from his position and started looking forward, Knoll started moving toward the man.
His peripheral vision caught movement to his left, but he ignored it as he moved forward. Bishop’s head twisted to his left and he brought a weapon up, aiming at something. Knoll sprinted the last two yards as he raised his right elbow. It made contact with the side of Bishops head and the man collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. Knoll secured the dropped weapon and started binding Bishop’s arms behind him with flex cuffs. Once completed, he did the same to Bishop’s ankles.
Not a shot was fired.
***
It took thirty minutes for the Highway Patrol to open the bridge, clear traffic and block off the exit ramp. Sara Ferguson was in the back of an ambulance being attended by two EMTs. She was staring at the man who comforted her after running from the Ford. Kruger sat across from the gurney she lay on. “Sara, I have to ask you a few questions.”
She nodded.
“Did he attack you or hurt you in any way?”
“No, he never really touched me except when I walked into Mandy’s apartment, and he grabbed me. But that was the only time. How’s Mandy? Is she okay?”
Kruger did not smile. “No, I’m afraid she isn’t.”
Sara closed her eyes and tears flowed from both. “I was afraid he hurt her.”
“Sara, did Bishop say anything to you?”
“Was that his name? He never told me.”
“Randolph Bishop.”
She gasped. “The man in the news?”
Kruger nodded. “You were lucky. He needed you for something.”
The tears flowed faster and she started breathing hard. One of the EMT’s said very softly. “Agent, we really need to get her to a hospital. Can this wait?”
Nodding, Kruger stepped out of the back of the ambulance and helped close the door. He watched as it drove toward Jefferson City across the bridge.
JR walked up to Kruger. “I’ve got his laptop.”
Turning, Kruger stared at his friend and for the first time in several days, felt relief.
Chapter 38
Jefferson City, MO
The Cole County Sheriff’s Office building was located in downtown Jefferson City. Randolph Bishop sat alone in an interrogation room, shackled and chained to a ring embedded in the concrete floor. An hour passed while Kruger and Allen Boone observed him on a video monitor.
“Can you talk to him?” Boone asked as he stared at the figure on the video screen. “Without doing him physical harm.”
Taking a breath, Kruger was silent fo
r a moment. “I think so. My first impulse is to walk in there and shoot him. But we know that isn’t an option.”
Boone chuckled and nodded. “How long are you going to leave him in there?”
“A few more minutes. JR’s searching his laptop. I need some information before I go in there.”
“You haven’t changed, Sean. Always know more than the person you’re interrogating.”
Kruger nodded his head once, but remained quiet as he stared at Bishop’s image.
Twenty minutes later, Kruger unlocked the door to the interrogation room and entered. Bishop could not see him, but Knoll was outside and could be in the room in seconds. Kruger sat across from Bishop, placing a manila file folder on the table between them.
Remaining quiet, Bishop stared at Kruger.
“Remember me, Randy?”
“I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“Sure we have. Parking lot of Harmon, Harmon, and Kinslow. It was a Thursday evening about six years ago.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about. I want a doctor and a lawyer, in that order.”
Kruger smiled. “Well… we might have a problem with both. No, that’s not correct. We don’t have a problem. You have the problem.”
“I’ve probably got a concussion from the brutal attack I suffered. So until I have a lawyer present, I’m not answering your questions.”
Kruger chuckled. “At the moment, you’ll get neither.” He opened the folder and slid a photo of a man presenting his passport to a TSA agent in an airport terminal.
Bishop stared at it and shrugged. “So. It’s a picture of a man in a hat.”
Taking another picture from the folder, he laid it on top of the other one. This time the camera caught the image of the man’s face. It was Bishop.
“Recognize the man in the picture?”
Bishop remained silent.
“It’s you, but you already knew this. Records indicate the man in the picture presented a passport with the name of Everett Stewart.” Kruger watched Bishop. There was a momentary tell of alarm on his face, but it was replaced with a neutral expression just as fast.
“Unfortunately, Randy, you entered the United States under a false ID. That’s problem number one. Problem number two, Everett Stewart is the prime suspect in the disappearance of Malaysia Airlines Flight 24 this past March.”
Bishop stared at Kruger, his eyes widened slightly.
“Randolph Bishop and Everett Stewart were on the manifest as a passengers. Bishop’s boarding pass was used. Stewart’s wasn’t.”
“People miss flights for a lot of reasons.”
“True, but the real Everett Stewart never returned home. Then, we find you using his passport to enter the United States. Which means, you entered the United States under false pretense for the expressed purpose of terroristic acts. In other words, you’ve been classified as an enemy combatant. We can hold you forever without allowing you access to a lawyer.”
Bishop directed his eyes to the photo in front of him, but remained quiet.
“Here’s your third problem. We know Randolph Bishop murdered four women in St. Louis over the course of ten years.”
“My brother confessed to those murders. I had nothing to do with them.”
Kruger smiled again. “So you’re admitting you’re Randolph Bishop?”
“I’m not admitting anything.”
“Your brother did leave a note at the scene of his suicide confessing to the murders. But there’s a problem with this confession.”
“There is no problem. My brother killed those women. You’re throwing mud against the wall hoping something will stick. It won’t because I didn’t kill those women.”
“Trace DNA was found on one of the victims.”
Bishop remained silent.
“Apparently, the killer used a condom when he raped the women. But semen was found in one of the victims. Small amount, the condom had a leak, but it was enough to send to our FBI lab. The DNA was tested against Paul Bishop’s profile. It was close, but not a match. In fact, it was so close, it could only be a sibling. You are Paul’s only sibling.”
Bishop laughed. “You’re grasping at straws, you have no proof it was my DNA.”
“Not yet.”
“I’m done talking to you.”
“Suit yourself. But the story gets better. I’ll let you think about it some more.”
“I have to piss.”
Kruger nodded, stood, and opened the door. He said something as he stepped out and was replaced by Sandy Knoll. Knoll was accompanied by two of the largest men Bishop had ever seen. The two large men were dressed in sheriff deputy uniforms and stood behind Knoll.
Kruger spoke from outside the room loud enough for Bishop to hear. “These three gentlemen will escort you to a holding cell where you can relieve yourself and contemplate your future. Or the complete lack of one. They outweigh you by at least five hundred pounds, so try not to do anything stupid.”
***
An hour later, Bishop was escorted back into the interrogation room. Kruger was already sitting at the table with three thick files next to him. He ignored Bishop as he sat down and one of the deputies secured his shackles to the ring on the floor.
Kruger continued to disregard Bishop as he sat reading the open file in front of him. Bishop cleared his throat several times, but Kruger remained silent. After ten minutes, he looked up from the file. “Tell me about the man you call in Thailand.”
“Thailand? I don’t know anyone in Thailand.”
Kruger nodded and went back to reading the file.
Another ten minutes went by before he looked at Bishop again. “We haven’t decided where to send you yet. Guantanamo Bay is out; it’s going to close soon. The CIA has a few really special hell holes we’re thinking about. There’s one in Turkmenistan, or a particularly nasty one in Uzbekistan that would work. Do you have a preference?”
Bishop stared at Kruger, his eyes narrow and his brow furrowed.
“Probably best not to pick. We’d send you to the one you don’t want.”
Kruger went back to reading.
“Okay, Kruger, what do you want?”
Looking up he smiled. “So you do know who I am. Good. I want to know about your contact in Thailand.”
“I told you I don’t know anyone in Thailand.”
Pulling his cell phone out of his jacket pocket, he touched an icon and sat it down. The recording of Bishop’s conversation on the previous day played. After it concluded, Kruger picked up the phone, ended the app. “This phone call was intercepted by the NSA yesterday. The voice without an accent has been confirmed to be yours. The phone making the call is owned by Mandy Bryant. She was found brutally murdered last night. Care to make a comment?”
Bishop shook his head.
“Now, again, who is your contact in Thailand?”
Bishop’s eyes narrowed and he leaned toward Kruger. “You can’t prove anything.”
“We know more than you think we do. Do the names Brenda Bishop, Judith Day, Thomas Zimmerman, Stephen Blair, Christine Daniels, Rosie Singleton and Anna Rhodes mean anything to you?”
Bishop continued to stare at Kruger, his expression defiant.
“The only one you probably don’t recognize is Anna Rhodes. She was shot in the head with a CZ 9mm while sitting in a car in her driveway. She never knew what happened or why. I doubt you even knew her name.”
Bishop snorted. “You can’t prove anything.”
“On the contrary. Ballistics indicate the bullet that killed Anna Rhodes was fired from the CZ found in your possession.”
Bishop’s expression softened and he studied the top of the table were they sat.
“The Attorney General of Missouri is already filing charges against you and wants to pursue the death penalty. Unless…”
Bishop looked up, his eyes narrow. “Unless what?”
“You tell me about the man in Thailand.”
Bishop grinned and shook his head.
“Not a chance.”
Kruger’s cell phone vibrated, he glanced at the sender, kept his expression neutral and stood up. “Think about it for a while. Consider this: if you don’t answer, you might never see the sun again.”
He returned Bishop’s grin and walked out of the room.
***
JR smiled as Bishop’s laptop spilled its secrets.
It had taken two hours to crack the log-in code, a long time by his standards, until he realized he was dealing with a professional, well-constructed firewall. Once this was established, he made rapid progress.
One of the files contained a list of addresses in a PDF file of scanned documents. As he worked through the documents, one address stood out.
Once he realized what it was, he picked up his cell phone and sent a text message.
JR sat in a small conference room down the hall from the Cole County Sheriff’s Office. He was the only occupant of the room as he waited for his friend to join him.
When Kruger walked in he saw JR staring at his computer screen.
“What was the urgent summons about?” Kruger threw the files he held on the conference table, his tone unhappy about being interrupted.
“Found something of concern on Bishop’s laptop.”
Kruger exhaled and nodded slightly. “Sorry, what’d you find?”
“Take a look at this.” JR pointed to the scanned page on his laptop screen.
Silence was his answer as Kruger looked at the information. “So? Looks like a bunch of addresses.”
JR pointed to one particular address. “Recognize this?”
Kruger shook his head.
“It’s the home address of the man who kidnapped Stephanie and Kristin.”
