He stalked over to the phone and jerked the portable unit out of its holder. After quickly dialing a number, Kent demanded that the voice on the other end to transfer him. He denounced the protests raised by the switchboard operator and was finally transferred to the officer he sought. He provided the explanations that would be required and agreed upon an appropriate compensation for the officer’s assistance in promptly getting his men processed. He then made arrangements for their immediate transfer to another jail due to overcrowding. During that transfer, the officer would also provide the men in custody with a means of escape.
Kent hung up the phone and returned to stare at the pile of rubble on the floor that had once been his television. It reminded him of the floor in the filthy bar where he found the two unsavory men he had hired to abduct the Harding woman.
It was an unwholesome establishment with a reputation built on pleasures other than beer and music. It sat just at the edge of town a half mile off the main road. If Kent hadn’t known any better, he would have thought, at first glance, that it was nothing more than another typical country and western bar, complete with a mechanical bull next to the unpolished wooden dance floor.
He watched a pack of beer drunk men and women stand in a line mimicking each other’s movements and calling it dancing. Most of them were similarly dressed in tight fitting blue jeans, overly polished leather boots, and felt or straw knock-offs of old-time cowboy hats. The men wore mostly snug fitting t-shirts. The women wore gaudy-colored blouses with provocatively plunging necklines, leaving little to the viewer's imagination.
Kent donned a similar style of clothing so that he would blend in with the crowd while still being able to conceal himself beneath the brim of a large hat chosen especially for that purpose. The overly loud twang of county music made polite conversation nearly impossible, if any could even be found in a place like this. But, it suited his need not to be invited to chit chat with the locals. Kent ordered a bottle of beer and a cup of hot tea and asked to be seated at a table he determined would offer the best view of the crowd. The beer was for his supposed guest, and he pretended to sip the tea so as not to encourage the waitress to return too soon.
He observed the patrons for nearly an hour, noticing those who paired off, left the dance floor, and went upstairs together. They always returned a bit disheveled.
As he watched the most recent couple return, Kent spotted two men stumbling from their booth along the back wall near the bottom of the stairs. He had been evaluating the man returning from the second floor liaison when these two crossed his line of sight. He immediately knew they would be right for the job. They also looked like they would be more inclined to accept the money. Hopefully, they were capable of accomplishing the relatively simple task.
Kent watched as they approached a table where two particularly well endowed, scantily clad women sat sipping at their bottles of beer in what they thought was a sexually provocative manner. The table was in a raised section of the bar, making it easier to view the bare legs their extra short skirts displayed. The ladies obviously succeeded in stirring the interest of these two hormone-charged and alcohol-emboldened guys. They leered at the women as their drunken steps brought them up to the table. The older man, lustful eyes not quite able to focus on the ladies’ faces, intentionally bumped the table hard enough to cause the lady currently sipping her beer to jump and pour most of it down the front of her blouse, which was now wet and clinging. Obviously, this was a well-practiced move. The increasing bulge in the front of his jeans confirmed his enjoyment of the outcome.
Though Kent could not hear the slurred words, he did not need to be a genius to imagine the exchange. The women first pretended offense, while still encouraging the guys to continue their pursuit. After convincing the women to share another bottle of beer with them at their original booth in the less crowded, darkened corner of the room, Kent was able to discern the none-to-subtle attempts being made to engage the women in the physical activity they desired.
The younger of the two men, who had a less threatening demeanor, succeeded in pressing himself so close to the lady who sat in the corner of the booth next to him that she was no longer visible from Kent's vantage point. Apparently, she was readily amenable to his advances and preferred to indulge them on the spot rather than going off to one of the rooms upstairs.
The other fella was not having as much luck. The arm he placed around his lady was initially welcomed. His other hand was only slightly discouraged when he clumsily ripped one side of her lace lingerie as his fingers slide beneath her blouse. All the while their lips were otherwise occupied. When he made overt moves to finalize the act, his woman, unlike her companion panting heavily on the opposite side of the booth, objected and disengaged from his pawing hands and the press of his sweaty body against hers. After she rambled off some sort of explanation, they apparently reached an agreement and left the booth together, quickly heading for the nearby stairs. Obviously, she was less of an exhibitionist, but still not very picky.
It was only half an hour later when the man returned alone from the upper level, looking as if he just won a prize fight. He smacked a young waitress on her rump as he worked his way back to his booth. His younger friend was patiently enjoying the company of his own date while he waited for his friend to return. The two men had one more beer, paid for their drinks and the side dishes, and then headed toward the exit together.
Kent followed them out into the dim parking lot and talked to them while they smoked cigarettes and leaned against the hood of their pickup truck. After satisfying himself that they were greedy and uncouth enough not to be offended by the nature of his employment offer, Kent bargained with them on the fee, but made certain it was enough to ensure they would have no qualms about the details of the work. He gave them directions to his house and arranged to meet them the following evening, sober, so he could go over the specific details.
Kent suddenly stopped the angry recriminations he’d been throwing at himself regarding his apparent bad judgment in selecting the two bumbling morons for the job. He was alerted by headlights shining through a window in the next room that he was about to have company. The reception Kent intended for his employees was not going to be pleasant. They had not only failed, but also allowed the fiasco to become a media spectacle. Kent was forced to call in a big favor and pay out a tidy sum of money to get them released before the police got a chance to dig too deeply into their cover story.
Of course, if they were to be seen escaping by anyone at all, it would not be difficult for even a novice detective to connect a few simple dots and lead the authorities straight to his front door. Kent could deal with the police easily enough. The proof of that was evident in the two idiots now pulling into his driveway. He was not overly concerned with legal implications; but dealing with mistakes like this could force him to alter his original timeline, and that would be a huge problem indeed. The timeline was important, and it was dictated by events that were beyond Kent’s control. If he missed certain unalterable deadlines, there would be no alternatives. The opportunity would be lost. Kent had no intention of letting this rare chance get away from him. He was already considering how to adapt for the inevitable consequences of this setback as he put a conscious effort into calming his anger. This occupied his mind while he waited for the men in the approaching van to reach the house.
He did not have to wait long. The sound of the van’s engine grew louder as it neared the house. It was a simple, non-descript, black, cargo van, which Kent provided for them earlier that day to help in their endeavor. It had been retrieved from the impound lot as part of his bargain with the officer. He listened to the low pitch of the motor as it slowed and finally came to a halt. Kent walked quickly beneath one of the open archways on his left and moved toward the side door. He wanted to intercept the men outside.
A lone man approached the large, cobblestone patio onto which Kent emerged from the shadowed doorway. A single iron lamppost, seven feet high, with
an actual candle instead of a light bulb, was set in the ground at the corner of the patio furthest from the door. The candle flared to life behind the man walking toward the patio, providing the only illumination of the area. Thick storm clouds pressing down from overhead were blocking out the moonlight. The arriving man could only see his boss’s nondescript outline until he came within arm’s length. Here, he stopped to face the looming consequences of his failed assignment.
The man who came out of the house appeared to be wearing dark pants, possibly black denim, and a long-sleeved, loose fitting sweatshirt with an oversized hood. The hood was pulled up in such a way that not a single feature of his face was visible. It was almost exactly the same setting as the first time the younger man was here in the company of his now deceased friend. They arrived the prior evening when they were given the details of the job they were hired to do, then summarily dismissed.
The surviving kidnapper received a message from the crooked police officer and managed his escape with only a minor confrontation before further pursuit ended. Obviously, this had been arranged. Therefore, his employer already knew that the abduction attempt was unsuccessful. He was hoping that his boss would give him another chance. After all, why would he have been rescued from detention if not for that purpose?
Nervously, the fugitive tried to estimate how upset his boss might be and how he could explain his failure so that it did not seem like it was his fault. At last, he decided to break the silence.
"Hey Dude, we almost had her. She was cornered upstairs with no way to escape, but then Billy got killed and someone attacked me, too. He came out of nowhere. I was caught completely by surprise. Then the fog…"
"Someone else was in the house? Who was it?" Kent interrupted the fidgeting man, unprepared for this particular twist. Kent was assured that Mrs. Harding had been alone when she left the memorial service; and he received a report that she was alone in her car as she turned into her driveway on the return trip. Did she have a house guest who went unobserved? Kent didn’t think so. Perhaps this guy was lying to cover his shortcomings. That seemed a much more likely possibility.
Then Kent registered the other news. The second man, the older one whose name must have been Billy, had been killed. This one was here by himself. Belatedly, Kent wished he had listened to the entire story on the news. Certainly they would have offered some information to confirm or denounce the tale this man was reciting. He looked at his watch. It was only ten thirty. He could still catch the full story and any updates on the eleven o’clock news. Kent would call the officer again and obtain the details of the reports as they were filed by the cops who were at the scene.
"I don’t know who it was. I didn’t really get a look at him, but he was strong. He had already killed Billy and hid before I got close enough to see Billy’s body on the floor. I was checking to see if Billy was breathing when this other guy jumped me and started to crush the air right out of me. I thought I was a goner for sure. Then I heard the cops coming up the stairs. He must’ve heard ‘em too, ‘cause he let me go and ran off. They never saw him, and neither did I."
Kent began pacing, trying to process the information. Perhaps he underestimated the situation. Assuredly, at least part of the information he obtained had been incorrect. Yet, too much had gone wrong for what should have been an easy assignment.
While he considered the possibilities, Kent pulled a tiny black dart from a pocket in his sweatshirt and, with a quick, fluid motion, sent it sailing across the few feet of empty air to embed itself in the unprotected flesh of the young man’s bare neck. It only took seconds for the drug to flow into the man’s bloodstream and a few more for the body to fall forward onto the cold stone of the patio.
The door closed behind Kent as he went back into the house and made his way to the kitchen. He turned on the small television set that was installed in the face of one of the cabinets. He selected a station that was posting blurbs to let viewers know they could get the full details of the top story during the eleven o’clock broadcast. While Kent waited, it began to rain again.
The news report confirmed that one man was dead and another had been arrested during the abduction attempt. It also warned viewers that the suspect later escaped custody and was still at large. The reporter did not mention the mysterious white knight that supposedly attacked the men. She relayed the medical examiner’s preliminary cause of the first assailant’s death as a massive heart attack. Neither of these facts helped Kent determine which of the conflicting facts were correct, but he was leaning toward the heart attack and a sniveling worm lying to cover his own incompetence.
As the broadcast was ending, his butler, Nemi, returned and joined him in the kitchen. The thin man gathered some pungent powders and some water and mixed up an herbal concoction in the blender, which he then poured into a crystal goblet and handed to Kent. Kent drank it while they discussed the news. Nemi revealed a few additional clues.
His dutiful servant arrived early that morning on the deserted street and found a perfect location across from the Harding's driveway. Nemi parked his black Volkswagen beetle in almost complete seclusion due to the sloping of the surrounding rows of trees. However, the location offered him an unobscured view of the driveway and the road on either side for at least a half a mile. The military grade binoculars he used allowed him to unobtrusively observe the comings and goings of those who visited.
Nemi saw the widow leave that morning, and she was alone. He watched her return, and she was still alone. He even watched the black van as it turned off its lights and drove slowly up the unbarred driveway in the early evening shadows. No one else entered or left the property.
Due to the continuing rainy weather, Nemi had seen only three other cars on that stretch of road all day. It was not normally a highly traveled road because it did not offer the conveniences of the newer, more populated thoroughfares. The primary residents along this stretch were farmers, whose property was vast, and folks like the lady he was watching, whose land was large and surrounded by woodlands; thus reducing the number of people living in this particular area and traveling along this road.
Nemi observed the police cars and ambulance arriving and speeding down the driveway toward the house. Not long after that, the news vans started showing up, and a tow truck appeared as well. The drivers of the news vans, who were bold enough to attempt to get onto the driveway for a closer look, were blocked by the strategically stationed patrol car just outside the gated wall, but the tow truck was granted entry. Nemi waited until the police cars, the tow truck, now pulling a black van, the ambulance, and all the news crews left. He learned that a single police sedan remained in the driveway. Apparently, the cops would be keeping watch on the house overnight. His mission thus completed, Nemi pulled his little car out of its hiding place without turning on the headlights until he was a mile down the road, and headed back to his employer’s house.
The information Nemi related verified Kent's conclusion that the man he hired, and who now lay dead on the side patio, was a liar. There could not have been anyone else in the house. Billy’s bad health got the better of him. He must have gotten himself so worked up that his heart gave out under the stress. Then, seeing his partner dead on the floor, the young man panicked. When he heard the police arrive, it probably set off an anxiety attack. Kent decided they were both useless and witless after all. He had definitely chosen his help poorly and was well rid of them.
Kent had to decide what his next move would be. Time was slipping away, but was not yet gone. He could still make this work if he adjusted quickly. It would mean that he would have to enact one of his backup plans and take matters into his own hands. Direct contact was the one alternative he was hoping to defer a little while longer, but unfortunately, he no longer had that luxury.
He knew Nemi would not need any further instructions to properly dispose of the body outside. Kent had no doubts that the mess in the living room would be cleaned up in much the same manner. Nemi was very good a
t his job and had proven himself an invaluable asset over the years. Perhaps this mission would have fared better if Kent had sent Nemi instead of the two thugs, but there was no sense in second guessing himself now. He could not undo the matter. He had to move forward with a revised plan that would require his full attention.
Kent did not stir from the barstool he occupied at the kitchen counter for the rest of the night. If he slept at all, it was only for brief snatches of time. In his mind, he was weighing his options, assessing potential weaknesses in his plan, and ascertaining which scenario would be the best choice for the next step. By the time the sun rose and light began to creep in through the kitchen window, Kent’s mind was made up.
Kent got up from his seat in the kitchen, went to take a quick shower, and prepared himself for the new day. There would be much to do, but Kent found he was more anxious than he had been in quite some time. The thought of victory being so close was exciting. The setback of the previous evening was already nothing more than a hiccup in the works, and Kent was ready to move ahead. He casually noted the clean floor in the living room as he hurried past an archway heading for the stairs.
By the time Kent reached his room, Nemi had already set out a pair of dark gray dress pants with a thin white pin stripe and a deep burgundy colored polo shirt with an intricate logo sewn in a lighter shade of red. He rested his hand lightly over the eagle's head logo for just a moment before continuing on, appreciating the talent Nemi possessed for always knowing exactly what attire Kent would require, even without knowing Kent’s plans for the day. After his shower, he donned the clothing, along with a simple pair of gray socks and slightly darker gray dress shoes that had been conveniently placed in front of a short stool next to his bed.
The Book of Elements Page 12
