Redemption

by Richard Stephenson

  “No shit? Really?”

  Charles frowned. “Please do not use vulgarity, I find it distasteful.”

  “What’s the big deal? You a preacher or something?”

  “Far from it. I’m a gentleman that prefers civility.”

  “Whatever, man. I’m cool. You wanna hang for the night? Get you a room, set you up with some girls, on the house.”

  “Your hospitality is appreciated, but I must decline. I will meet you here at 5pm tomorrow.”

  “That’ll work. We should have him here by then. Sure you don’t wanna stay? No one’s gonna judge if you prefer boys. We got plenty of both.”

  “I’ll be fine, thank you.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  Charles stood up and straightened his tie. “Gentlemen, until tomorrow.”

  Frank and Willie remained seated and watched the old man leave in disgust.

  Frank could feel Willie staring at him. “Something on your mind? Spit it out.”

  “I don’t trust him.”

  “Shut up, you don’t trust anyone, me included.”

  “No, I’m serious, that guy’s trouble. No one turns down free ass. Any man don’t wanna bust a nut ain’t right in my book.”

  “Give the guy a break. He’s an old man that probably can’t get it up anymore.”

  “Something about him just don’t sit right with me. He’ll double cross us first chance he gets.”

  “Hey, this is a good thing, don’t screw it up.”

  “Relax, I’m just gonna follow him and see what he does. Maybe get him out of his room and search his stuff.”

  “He’ll kill you if you get caught. Just leave it alone.”

  “Stop treating me like a rookie. Been doin’ this a lot longer than you. I know what I’m doing.” Willie was already finished with the conversation by the time he made it to the door.

  Frank yelled toward the door. “Tell you what, you fuck this up and I’ll kill you myself.”

  Willie spotted Charles at the other end of the square and followed him, keeping him in his line of sight. Willie was a former St. Louis homicide detective and knew the city like the back of his hand. Prior to the collapse of 2027, the national crime rate was at an all-time high. Willie had watched year after year as the budget dried up and more and more detectives were laid off. Homicides in major cities were so commonplace that the victims’ families didn’t really expect justice unless the murder happened in full view of witnesses and the fingerprint laden murder weapon was left behind. Two wars and eleven years later found the once great city of St. Louis a hollow shell of its former self.

  Judging by the direction he was walking, Willie deduced that the old man was headed to the Blue Goose, one of Willie’s more popular hotel and bar known to provide companionship to weary travelers. Willie stood a block away and lit a cigarette, watching the mysterious man enter the bar. A few minutes later, the cigarette was snubbed out and Willie crossed the street and entered the Blue Goose.

  Willie walked behind the bar and directly into the manager’s office. The bartender didn’t react at all since such action on Willie’s part was commonplace. He didn’t bother knocking on the office door upon entering. The proprietor looked up at Willie.

  “Didn’t expect you for another week. My extortion rates going up again?”

  “Oh, come on! Extortion is such an ugly word. Call it membership dues.”

  “Membership in what exactly?”

  “The St. Louis Chamber of Commerce.”

  “What do you want, Willie?”

  “The sharp dressed old man, I need you to get him out of his room.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know, tell him he has a visitor at the bar or something, stall him for a few minutes.”

  “Fine, I’ll send someone up.”

  Willie disappeared to a dark, quiet corner of the bar near the stairs and waited for Charles to make his entrance. A few minutes later Charles approached the bar. The bartender offered him a complementary drink and told him the manager wanted to meet with him, a courtesy paid to all patrons.

  Once outside Charles’ room, Willie used his master key and let himself in. The former detective was looking for anything that would give him the upper hand in future dealings with the old man. Willie hated surprises and had no intention of committing to a job without knowing every detail beforehand.

  After thoroughly searching the room from top to bottom he came up empty. The only sign that Charles even occupied the room was his suit coat hanging in the closet. The old man had traveled from God knows where and showed up to St. Louis with only the clothes on his back. He didn’t bring any luggage, a briefcase, not a single file. The details of his mission were stored safely in his memory. Willie was impressed; Charles’ reputation was truly deserved.

  Willie felt a sharp pain in his lower back. Without even realizing what was happening, he lost all sensation in his left hip and left leg, rendering him unable to stand. Willie collapsed to the floor with a thud and stared at the ceiling. He blinked his eyes a few times and tried to gather his wits. During his tenure in law enforcement he had grown accustomed to violence, enabling him to push through the panic and center his mind on survival. Willie ignored the excruciating pain and ran his right hand down his side and reached for the pistol holstered in the small of his back.

  “Mr. McCallon, on your trip to the floor I took the liberty of relieving you of your weapon. You could try for the knife you keep tucked into your boot but you should probably know you will never stand again. So do us both a favor and remain on the floor.”

  “You’re a psychopath. You came to us to get a job done, we were going to help you and you stab me! Why? Why’d you do this? Your job, whatever the fuck it is, will never happen now!”

  “Mr. McCallon, I’ve done more than just stab you.”

  Willie was starting to get light headed but fought hard to keep his mind sharp. “What did you do to me you old geezer?”

  “I pierced one of your kidneys with an icepick and ruptured the L2 disc in your spine. I wasn’t expecting it, but I got a happy little gift for my effort. Your L2 nerve was severed, that’s why you’ll never stand again. Not that it matters, you won’t live to see another day.”

  “Just end it already, shoot me in the head and get it over with.”

  Charles calmly retrieved the rickety chair from the other side of the room and sat a few feet from his victim. “William, my dear man, it would be downright rude of me to deny you the answer to your question.”

  Willie coughed up blood and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Question?”

  “You had inquired about what motivated this attack. The simple answer is that I do not trust you. Your intrusion into my room helps to illustrate my point. You were a corrupt policeman and have become even more unscrupulous given that you are not accountable to anyone. I am grateful that you stopped by, William; you spared me a trip to your residence. Much simpler this way.”

  “Fuck you, you slimy piece of shit.”

  “Mr. McCallon, I normally frown on such vulgarity, but seeing as you’re not long for this world, I think we can make an exception.”

  Willie fought through the pain. He accepted the obvious fact that Charles was right; he was not long for this world. Acceptance brought peace and calm. “You’re really something, you know that? You have no issue killing someone, but an F-bomb bothers you?”

  Charles looked at Willie with cold, dead eyes and smiled. “I just prefer to keeps things civilized. Vulgarity is the hallmark of an uneducated mind. I’ve been practicing this craft since long before you were born, Mr. McCallon, and I can tell you with great certainty that the sharpest minds I battled didn’t need to rely on swearing to get their point across.”

  “You’re done in St. Louis. All your big, fancy plans are finished.”

  “Oh, far from it, Mr. McCallon. Your lieutenants want you dead. Even the bartender at this fine esta
blishment was happy to participate in your demise.”

  Willie rapidly blinked his eyes and looked at Charles, and then his gaze became more and more vacant. He gasped for breath. “You … done.”

  “Mr. McCallon! Stay with me! We’re almost finished. I need you to look at me.” Charles reached forward and slapped his cheek. Charles grabbed his chin and turned his head. “I need you to look at me. There we go. I know your secret, Mr. McCallon. The one you have gone to great lengths to hide. Your partner, Frank, is more than your business associate, isn’t he?”

  Willie’s bottom lip quivered as he closed his eyes. “Please don’t.”

  “William, that all depends on you. The NASA engineer is here in St. Louis, isn’t he?”

  Willie nodded his head.

  “Good. I already knew that of course, I just wanted to see if you had decided to start telling the truth for once in your life. Frank is depending on you to be honest, his life depends on it. We’re off to a good start.”

  “I love him, please.”

  “I know you do, William. Wise of you to hide your relationship. Your subordinates no doubt lack a more… shall we say enlightened tolerance and would no doubt kill you and Frank. When I offered to dispose of you in exchange for their loyalty they jumped at the chance. However, the one thing they could not provide, the one thing you still have that I want is the engineer. So here we are.”

  “Why is he so important to you?”

  “Mr. McCallon, please. I beg you not to venture back towards deception, you were doing so well. Only honesty will keep your dear Frank alive. You know why the engineer is important. You know exactly why. It’s the reason you’ve kept his identity a secret for so long. Tell me where he is so I won’t have to resort to more … distasteful methods of interrogation with Frank. Spare your love a painful death. Tell me where to find him and Frank will live.”

  “He’s the bartender. The engineer is downstairs.”

  Realization slowly crept over the assassin’s face as a faint smile could be seen. “Well, that would explain his enthusiasm to be rid of you. I suppose he thought his secret would follow you to the grave.”

  “The things he knows. The things he can do. In the wrong hands, very dangerous.”

  “I’m counting on it. Goodbye, Mr. McCallon.” Charles drove the icepick into the dying man’s ear. Willie flinched for a split second and was no more.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Richard, your name sounds familiar. Why is that?” Father Nathan Elias could tell that his question was making Richard Dupree nervous so he decided not to push the issue any further should the man not answer. Nathan was certain the name should mean something to him. The man sitting next to him was a stranger, he was certain he had never laid eyes on the man in his entire life. Well, he couldn’t really be certain at all. Richard had dirty, matted hair down to his shoulders and a full beard. What little skin he could see on his face was caked in dirt. Give this guy a haircut, shave, and a shower and a different man could be looking back at him.

  Nathan waited for an answer to the point just prior of awkward silence and realized he hadn’t properly introduced himself. “Mr. Dupree, it is a pleasure to meet you. I’m Father Nathan Elias.”

  “Catholic?” Richard still felt the weight of holding a conversation. Every word uttered didn’t feel real, like someone else had spoken it.

  “Well, yes, I’ve never known another religious institution to use it. Can’t say I’m well versed in religions outside my own. Others use Pastor, Minister, and some other titles I’m sure. Did you go to church, my son?”

  Richard thought back to the very last time he had been inside a church building. The day he murdered the pedophile that had been abusing young children, his own included. They didn’t see me do anything down there. As if masturbating under a table and hiding your erection from children made the whole thing perfectly normal. “No, Father, I haven’t set foot in a church building in a great many years. I have no idea what brought me to one today.”

  “Yes you do, Richard, yes you do. From what little you have said so far it is quite clear that you are burdened with a guilt that is crushing you. You feel responsible for something terrible. You said you have to make things right. Why don’t we start there? What is it you need to do exactly?”

  Richard shifted forward in his seat and rubbed his temples. His eyes filled with tears. “Do you believe in resurrection?”

  “Well, my son, the resurrection of Jesus Christ is a pretty big deal with Christians.”

  “I’m talking more recent, like present day.”

  “Someone rising from the dead? Anything is possible with the Lord.”

  “No offense, but lately I feel like God is on vacation and we’re fending for ourselves down here.”

  “Don’t worry about offending me, my son. We all struggle with faith. Why do you speak of resurrection? Did you lose someone dear to you?”

  Richard slumped down in the pew and struggled to speak. “Yes.”

  “They are in a better place. You can find peace knowing they are with the Lord.”

  “It’s not that simple. I have to make it right.”

  Father Elias put his hand on Richard’s shoulder. “Any man seeking revenge should first dig two graves.”

  Richard spent a few seconds contemplating what the priest said and asked, “Is that in the bible?”

  “No, my son, but wise words nonetheless.”

  “I dug my grave long ago, Father.”

  “Richard, you said earlier that all of this is your fault. That you are to blame for everything. What does that mean?”

  “I could have done things differently. I sacrificed everything. Our future, our way of life.” Richard’s body shook violently, torment and anguish clawed at his soul. His sobs came out as screams, echoing across the walls of the church. “I lost them both! My sweet little babies! I couldn’t even save my own children! I never meant for it to happen. I promise I am going to make things right. He has the answer, I want to believe.” Richard collapsed into the arms of the priest, continuing to cry out in agony.

  The priest wasn’t sure if Richard could even hear him but spoke anyway. “Yes, Richard, Jesus not only has the answer, He is the answer.”

  Father Elias was prepared to sit with Richard for however long it took. The sobbing subsided in time, followed by the heavy breathing that accompanies slumber. When the broken man began to snore, Nathan slowly and carefully laid him down in the pew and covered him up with a blanket. The priest retrieved his bible from the lectern and sat down next to Richard and began to read. If the poor man slept for ten minutes or ten hours, Nathan was not going to leave his side.

  The priest awoke to the sound of horses on the street next to the church. Nathan hadn’t realized he had even dozed off but was not surprised. At his age, an afternoon nap was a necessity. He looked out the window to find darkness and realized he had slept for a few hours. Nathan looked to his left to find Richard sleeping peacefully.

  Father Elias quietly walked to the lobby and peered out the window. Two men were dismounting their horses. They looked to be in their mid-thirties. Both men were wearing camouflage clothes, not military uniforms, more like hunters Nathan thought. With their rifles slung to their shoulders, the two men made their way to the front door of the church. Nathan was a man of peace that welcomed anyone into his church; however, he did not welcome guns.

  Nathan opened the door and stood on the landing. “Hello there, gentleman! What brings you to these parts? Doing some hunting? You’d be wise to steer clear of the east side of the river; Merle tends to shoot trespassers without so much as a word. You boys from around here?”

  The two men exchanged glances that made Nathan nervous. Based on their body language, it was clear which one was giving orders and the other was following those orders. The boss nodded, apparently granting the subordinate permission to speak. “Tell me, Padre, you get any strangers lately?”

  N
athan did not like being called “Padre” by a non-Spanish speaking individual. Use of the word was usually meant to mock the Catholic Church or religion in general. Nathan knew that lying was a sin but given the circumstance, the safety of his visitor could be in jeopardy. “Other than you boys, can’t say that I have.”

  “You sure about that?” The boss glared at Nathan.

  “What’s this about, boys?”

  The subordinate was visibly upset and looked to his boss for guidance. Bossman held up his hand to calm the other and spoke. “Show him.”

  A piece of paper was shoved in Nathan’s hand. The priest had to look twice, but it was clear that the man in the picture was asleep on one of his pews. Richard was clean-cut in the picture. His hair was neatly trimmed and had no facial hair.

  “Look real close, Padre, ever seen that man?” Bossman watched the priest closely to gauge his reaction.

  “Who is he?”

  “Richard Dupree, former Commanding General of the Pacific States of America.”

  It finally dawned on Nathan. I knew that name sounded familiar. “What’d he do? He in trouble?”

  Bossman smiled for the first time and chuckled. “You could say that. Man’s a war criminal with a price on his head.”

  Father Elias looked at the two men with a quizzical look. “War criminal? There isn’t a functioning government in North America. Who on earth would be hunting war criminals?”

  “Never said a government was looking for him. He’s worth fifty pounds of silver dead, a hundred alive. We’ve been tracking him for months. Got him cornered in this valley, safe bet he’s in this town somewhere. You wouldn’t mind if we take a look inside?”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary, I’ve been here all day, just me here.”

  Bossman brought the rifle down from his shoulder. “Step aside, Padre.”

  “Look here, boys. This is a house of the Lord; I won’t have guns inside this church!”

  “If I didn’t know better, Padre, I’d think you were lying to us. But that can’t be, a man of God telling a lie.”

  The priest’s desperation was clear. “Please, I just don’t want anyone to get hurt. Let me go inside and talk to him. I’m sure he’ll surrender peacefully.”