THE BUTLER

by Bill WENHAM

  Emilio told him it was the right thing to do, a matter of family honor. Finally, Raphael agreed to help.

  When Sharon Sullivan had been murdered, it was Emilio who’d actually committed the crime. But it was a well coached Raphael who’d printed the note, distributed the flyers, spoken to the cop and had been photographed by old Mrs. Thoreau.

  Both men were accomplished actors and had often appeared in theatrical productions together.

  The police believed it was Emilio who had been at Sullivan’s apartment at the same time they were there themselves. In actual fact, he’d been miles away in another part of the City, establishing an airtight alibi for the same time period he was supposedly being seen at the apartment block. It was an alibi that would prove beyond a doubt he couldn’t have been in two places at the same time.

  Deceit and diversion at work once again!

  When there had been the two year lull in the Butler’s murderous activities, Raphael had gone along on the same theatrical road trip as his brother.

  Later, when Emilio’s activities resumed with the shooting of Jan Langham, Raphael had traveled to Chicago, using his brother’s I.D. and credit cards.

  If apprehended and accused of the murders, any of them, Emilio had concrete proof via airline ticket stubs, restaurant, hotel, car rental receipts and even security camera photographs that he’d been in another city entirely when any of the crimes had been committed.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Many people had noticed, particularly in the media and the entertainment community, and had commented upon the facial resemblance of the two actors. In fact, ‘People” magazine had even produced an article featuring photos of the two of them in various roles.

  But unless it was completely unavoidable, they were never normally photographed together. The exception to this, of course, was when they were both in full stage costume and makeup.

  One of their most well known stage partnerships was in a Canadian production of ‘Othello’, at Ontario’s Stratford Shakespearean Festival, where Raphael played Othello and Emilio was well cast as the brooding and scheming Iago.

  Never once though, in either of their acting careers, and although they met frequently in private, did they ever admit to being related.

  There are obviously many famous theatrical families and siblings such as the Fondas, Redgraves, Barrymores, Baldwins, Wayans, and Lawrences and so on.

  But the Cervantes acting brothers had a more important agenda to attend to and one that took precedence over any public displays of family unity.

  Some time ago they’d each taken a considerable amount of time coming up with acceptable individual stage names for themselves. Finally they’d both agreed each of their chosen stage names would be an anagram of their real family name, ‘Cervantes’.

  It would be by these names they’d be known to the acting community and to the public from then on. Much the same as many others in the entertainment world had done, regardless of who they’d been originally, they would always be known to the world as Doris Day, Marilyn Monroe, John Wayne, Cary Grant, Englebert Humperdinck and so on.

  The Cervantes boys had used nothing other than their chosen names since they’d both embarked on their professional theatrical careers after the completion of their military service.

  Prior to this time, Emilio and Rosetta had planned their wedding, together with much protest from both of their families. You are both to young to even be thinking of marriage, they were told, but still they went ahead with their plans anyway.

  Once it was obvious nothing at all was going to deter them, both families eventually rallied around to plan the happy occasion.

  Unfortunately, it didn’t turn out to be a happy occasion at all, with Rosetta being killed on the morning of her wedding day, as a direct result of a police shootout.

  A distraught, heartbroken and insanely vengeful Emilio had wanted to begin his vendetta against the police who were responsible for her death, on that very day, shelving all thoughts of a future acting career.

  Raphael finally convinced him without sufficient thought and some very careful planning, he himself was more likely to end up as the next victim, not the cops. If that happened, there’d be no retribution at all; no vendetta and the cops would get off completely free. Rosetta would never be avenged.

  “Just wait a while, Bro,” Raphael had advised him. “You’ve got plenty of time and what do you know about killing people anyway? Nothing! Nothing at all, my brother, that’s what you know. Nothing except what you’ve seen on the movies. And that’s just about enough to get you very easily killed.”

  Emilio had looked over angrily at him.

  “I know you’re angry,” Raphael continued, “You’re entitled to be and who wouldn’t be? And if you want to go around killing people, that’s fine, but just remember, the people you plan to kill are much better at it than you are. A hell of a lot better, in fact, Emilio. So, at least go to the professionals and learn how to do it properly.”

  Emilio was now looking at him more with skepticism than with anger. At least he was listening, Raphael thought, as he pressed on.

  “Go to the military and let them teach you. It’s what they do, isn’t it? If you’ll do that, Emilio, I’ll come with you. We’ll both learn to kill cops together.”

  Raphael paused and glanced at his brother. Emilio was nodding his agreement to his brother’s plan. Another line or two and I’ve got him, Raphael thought.

  “There’s a huge difference, Bro, between shooting off a prop gun filled with blanks on a theatre stage and actually killing somebody with one in real life. The same goes with knives and daggers. We have to learn the difference, Emilio, if we want to be successful and survive this vendetta of yours. On a stage, although it might look like it, the other guy isn’t really trying to hurt us. With what we plan to do, the cops won’t be trying to hurt us either. They will be doing their very best to kill us, both of us!”

  Emilio had suddenly laughed and had clapped his brother heartily on the shoulder.

  “Not a bad speech, little brother, and especially one without a script too, I’m very impressed.”

  A couple of days later the brothers Cervantes had volunteered for military service, a period of their lives where, as they gained proficiency in their chosen role, they later became known by yet another name. They were fanatically dedicated to their goal and became very, very good at what they did. They were excellent. They were the very best there was, in fact.

  They had earned their nickname of;

  ‘The Body Bag Brothers’

  After intensive courses in firearms and close combat weapon training, they’d applied for, and had been accepted by, the Delta Force, the unique and elite U.S. counter-terrorist unit based at Ft. Bragg, North Carolina. Part of their qualifications was their fluency in several languages, their ability to assume practically any accent with ease and of course, their skill with firearms and hand to hand combat weapons.

  Delta’s policy of killing any unknown carrying a weapon suited the Cervantes brothers perfectly. Certainly, the occasional mistake would be made and the wrong guy might get killed, but what the hell, for the most part it worked out just fine.

  Attack first, be the aggressor! It made for a fine action plan.

  Delta’s headquarters was known as ‘The Stockade’, due to the fact it had once been a prison and was highly secure. Delta Force’s training also included the very dangerous ‘House of Horrors’, using live ammunition to ensure realism. It was based on a similar British system used by the SAS called the ‘Killing House”. Different terrorist situations could be created with frightening authenticity in the set of rooms of each facility.

  During the time the Cervantes brothers were in training at Ft. Bragg, the Delta Force was teamed with the U.S, Rangers and sent on a mission to Somalia

  Emilio and Raphael Cervantes, having not yet completed their full training, were not included in the mission to Somalia. Primarily intended as part of the U.S. Governmen
t’s peacekeeping role, it was a mission that went horribly wrong.

  The U.S. military personnel were ambushed in the Somali capital city of Mogadishu, by the forces of Somali warlord, Mohamed Farah Adid.

  This Somali ambush occurred on October 3rd, 1993, and less than a full day later, the U.S. casualties numbered eighteen dead and seventy five wounded. Two ‘Black Hawk’ helicopters were also lost in the deadly attacks by Adid’s forces, along with the crews. Many more Rangers and Delta Force troops were either killed or injured themselves trying to rescue any possible survivors of the two crashes. Or failing to rescue them alive, the men felt duty bound to bring back their comrade’s bodies for burial in the United States.

  It was an unwritten code amongst all these men, Delta Force and the Rangers alike, to never leave an injured or even dead comrade behind. In one very bad and much publicized Somali television segment, one U.S. soldier’s dead body, unable to be recovered, was shown being dragged through the streets of Mogadishu by the Somalis.

  The failure of the Mogadishu mission filled the world’s headlines and caused a massive rethinking of the U.S. government’s foreign policy.

  For the Cervantes brothers, eager to legally kill and avoid being killed themselves, it was merely a wonderful opportunity missed. They didn’t want to fight for their country anyway but they wanted desperately to put their intensive and grueling training to good use. Not just good use either; they were itching to put it to good personal use! Their main objective was still Emilio’s vendetta.

  Finally, frustrated and disgruntled at their lack of actually assigned action, they both departed from Delta Force and spent the next year as mercenaries, hiring themselves out to the highest bidder. In this role, though, as mercenaries, they were able to do pretty much as they pleased. They killed whenever they wanted, wherever they wanted and on occasion, whoever they wanted, whether the victim was an assigned target for them or not.

  It was in this role, not in Delta Force, they earned and became known to their fellow mercenaries by their nickname.

  ‘The Body Bag Brothers’ were at last in business!

  During their time as mercenaries they’d both grown full beards and even if they happened to be photographed, a witness would be hard pressed to identify them individually or to say which of them was which.

  Their final assignment as mercenaries took place in Mexico City where they’d not only eliminated their assigned targets, but had also killed the man who’d hired them. If the client was looking for loyalty, he’d really chosen the wrong pair for the job. The Cervantes brothers were loyal to no one except each other, and trusted no one but each other. They knew too, without ever having to state it, they’d willingly die for each other as well.

  After Mexico, they’d both agreed it was time to return to the States and to put their killing skills to the ultimate test they’d been training themselves for.

  After a couple of weeks acclimatizing themselves to being back into what had all the appearances of a normal City life, they set about starting their new but delayed theatrical careers. They’d both unconsciously developed a litheness and grace in their recent activities that would stand them in good stead as actors. They’d also both agreed that, like their military and mercenary activities, they would allot this phase a maximum of two years.

  After that time, the vendetta would begin in earnest. They’d kept tabs on their prime target’s moves and career changes so they always knew his whereabouts.

  The vendetta had never been forgotten, just merely delayed until they believed themselves to be practically invincible, and even invisible too, if need be.

  They soon began auditioning for stage roles in the City under their newly devised stage names. They’d also, through their mercenary contacts, obtained complete sets of ID in their new names. The Cervantes brothers no longer existed except in the files of the military and even then as casualties.

  They hadn’t left Delta Force either! As part of their ongoing plan, they’d killed two bearded male civilians in different cities and brought their bodies back to Ft. Bragg. Then they’d staged a horrendous looking vehicle accident, involving explosives and gasoline. The bodies of their two victims had been burned and mutilated beyond recognition. It had occurred right at the gates of Ft. Bragg itself and the brothers had made certain that items of their own ID would survive the explosion and fire. In the confusion that followed the accident, the brothers were able, even secure as it was, to slip out of Ft. Bragg unnoticed.

  In their new roles as actors, no one ever seemed to make the connection that if the brothers weren’t chosen for the auditioned role; the successful candidate always seemed to have a very serious and most times fatal accident. The brothers were always naturally happy to step in to the vacancy. “The show must go on, you know, old chap,” either one of them would say in a perfect English accent. “Terribly unfortunate, of course, poor chappie, but there you are. Such a shame and quite a nice fellow, I believe, wasn’t he? Rather clumsy though, don’t you think to have fallen down those steps like that. I do hope I can do justice to the role, for his sake of course, you understand.”

  Within six months, both of them were moving rapidly up the entertainment world’s ladder, fostering the traditional thespian fear of theatrical jinxes along the way. After several leading men had suffered either fatal or crippling accidents in or near certain City theatres, many fine and well known performers refused to even audition for productions planned to be staged there.

  Whether they’d killed or crippled their competition in order to get the roles, it was also very obvious to both the producers and the public alike the two of them were very fine actors.

  Almost two years to the day since the brothers attended their first auditions and on the seventh anniversary of Rosetta’s death, Detective, now Lieutenant, Sandy Spicer received his very first message from ‘The Butler’.

  The Vendetta killings had now begun!

  Chapter Fifteen

  The more I thought about the Butler’s use of weapons, the more convinced I was he’d been well trained by the military.

  I contacted the Chief by phone and asked him to check out the military records, if any, of one Emilio Cervantes. The Chief said he’d put someone on to it right away and would get back to me.

  Early the following morning, he called me back.

  “Sandy,” he said, with his usual lack of greeting or preamble, “I’ve had your man checked out but I don’t want to go over the results of it over the phone. Can you and Todd meet me somewhere this morning?”

  I realized that, although it was phrased nicely as a request, it was really another order. Be there, was what he meant!

  “Sure, Chief,” I said, “Like where? Any preferences?”

  “Somewhere out in the open would be good. How about the golf course? No names, of course, but you know where I play, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, sure, Chief, okay. What time and where?”

  “Eighth hole. Ten o’clock. See you there,” he said abruptly and hung up.

  “Trouble?” Ellie asked as she came back into the bedroom from the bathroom.

  “I’m not sure, Hon,” I said. “As you know, I asked the Chief to have Cervantes’ military record checked out, if he had one. Well, he checked it out, but he won’t say anything about it over the phone. We’re to meet him at the golf course at ten. So if we move ourselves a bit, we can grab a bite of breakfast first, okay?”

  Ellie grinned at me.

  “That’s a little more subtle than your usual ‘Get your ass in gear, Babe,’ but I get the picture. I won’t be long.”

  She flounced off back into the bathroom, grinning at me over her shoulder as she went.

  Man, but I do like that lady, I thought happily, as I watched her shapely rear end disappear around the door.

  Later, after we’d had breakfast at the little Greek place down the street, we headed out to the golf course in the Jeep. We knew the Chief was a stickler for time, even more than with most ot
her things, so we’d made damned sure we arrived at the eighth hole early. Even so, the Chief was already there and glancing impatiently at his watch.

  “Let’s walk,” he said as we came up to him.

  I wondered whatever happened to ‘Good morning, guys. How are you today and how’s it all going?’

  Whatever he was going to tell us was obviously not going to be good news for us. He started off and we fell in on either side of him, walking at a leisurely pace.

  Suddenly, after a few yards, he suddenly stopped and turned to face us.

  “Jesus Christ, Lieutenant,” he said, “Have you guys been barking up the wrong tree or what. Always have been, on this case, looks like.”

  We both frowned at him.

  “What do you mean, Chief?” I asked.

  He shook his head in an irritated fashion.

  “Cervantes,” he said.

  “Right,” I answered, “I asked you to have his military record checked out, if he had one.”

  “Oh, he had one all right,” the Chief said sarcastically, “Had a life too, at one time. He ain’t got it now though.”

  “What!” Ellie and I gasped together.

  “Dead, Lieutenant. Has been for years, according to the United States Army. He and his brother blew themselves to smithereens when they were both with Delta Force. A couple of the best trainees they’d ever had too, the Army colonel at Bragg told me.”

  “When was this?” I asked.

  “April of 1994, so they said,” the Chief replied.

  “And they were quite sure it was them?”

  “Wasn’t much left of them to be completely sure about, but what was left was wearing their clothes and had their tags and ID. No one else was reported missing at Bragg either. Secure place, Ft. Bragg, not an easy place to get in or out of without someone noticing, apparently. So, sorry, guys, but it seems like you’ve been on a wild goose chase all this time. This Butler guy must be someone else entirely. Better start looking for some new leads somewhere else, okay? This one’s a dead end,” He paused and grinned at us, “If you’ll excuse the pun, of course. I’ll get in touch if and when the guy calls again. You two have yourselves a nice day.”