The director sat and stared
at Brad. Brad didn’t know if he was offended or angry or what his
state of mind was after he let loose with both barrels. His father
was staring at him and Steve was looking into his glass of wine
like it was the way out of the room. Finally the tension slowly
dissipated and the director said, “Well I guess I asked for it and
you are so right. Our agents are trained by the best in the
business, but who can train the trainers when we are dealing with a
mind no one really understands. Sure our profiles can say they were
abused or mistreated when in childhood and so on, but in all cases
when did anyone have the opportunity to examine a killer like we
have now made it so important we apprehend this guy alive; if
indeed that is possible.”
The meeting or social
gathering was at an end when Brad’s mother announced that dinner
was ready. The director stood up and walked to Brad and held out
his hand. Brad took his hand and the director said, “I for one am
damn glad you are on our team. Your record speaks for itself and if
I read the reports correctly, you have made significant progress
where the FBI failed to produce. That is why I would like you to
work closely with our special agent in charge. I can tell you
this,” as they slowly moved to the dining room, “she is anything
but a pushover. I suggest you have all eight cylinders firing when
you meet this woman.” Brad didn’t for a minute take his words
lightly. If the FBI had a person who could meet this challenge and
it was a woman, little did he care what sex it was. He was long
past that kind of sexist attitudes and one’s proof was in the
performance not the gender. He looked forward to the meeting as
they sat down to a dinner of leg of lamb which he didn’t much care
for and his mother knew it. But, she had enough other dishes he
liked very well such as a pasta salad with his favorite dressing
and fresh steamed vegetables.
After dinner, Steve and the
Director left leaving Brad and his father back in the study. Brad
understood this was necessary for a father and son to do under the
circumstances. And like a good son he answered his father’s
questions honestly and sincerely. At the end of the session his
father bade him good night and retired.
Brad then took the
opportunity to call home and talk to his wife. He loved her and she
loved him. They never openly showed any emotion, but in private it
was a different story and only Rocky or Sandy could tell the truth
of their relationship.
Chapter 8
The breakfast meeting was
scheduled for eight am. Brad walked into the hotel restaurant at
eight on the dot. He found the Director and his special agent at a
back table against the wall where it afforded some privacy. She was
sitting to his right and he had two choices, either face the
Director or face the woman. He chose to face her, but remembered
his wife’s last words on the phone to him, “Be nice and no macho
stuff big boy.” They were introduced and her name was Nancy
Longstreet. Brad had on a nice smile and gave her his friendly eye
look. Brad quickly noticed the Director’s words last night as Nancy
gave him a look that would freeze a polar bear. Pure hate radiating
from her being. Immediately he felt sorry for her to let her
emotions override her judgment. It dawned on him this was
intentional by the FBI to thwart his attempt to stop the serial
killer and let the FBI take the credit. She would fight him at
every turn. The delay was written all over her face without a word
being spoken. He almost got up and left, but knew it would be rude
if not full of disaster to create a scene. So he waited for her or
the Director to speak.
Nancy took the opening and
said with sarcasm dripping off her words, “I see Mr. Pratt your
right hand is missing from the meeting. I was under the impression
your dog traveled with you everywhere even to the men’s
room.”
Brad never blinked an eye
and said softly, “I had to leave him at home due to the fact there
are only two FBI agents in my house and I thought it prudent he be
there to protect them against an army of black birds or sea
gulls.”
“Ok you two, that is enough
of game playing. Let’s get down to business and Nancy explain to
Brad what our plan is for the search for the serial
killer.
Like the professional she
was, she laid out a game plan that would knock the socks off an NFL
football team. While she went on and on Brad looked this woman over
from head to waist. Her light brown hair was done in a short cut
but longer on one side giving the look of someone unbalanced. While
talking she kept throwing the heavy side away from her smooth skin
lightly done up with makeup. She wore green contacts making her
eyes look younger than her forty plus years. A perky nose and a
wide mouth gave her a nice look overall. She was dressed in a power
suit and her long fingers were void of rings or nail polish. He
noticed she had a death grip on her coffee cup as her knuckles were
as white as her blouse. She had beautiful white teeth that were
probably capped. She gave off her East Coast accent proudly and no
doubt she was Ivy League educated. The vocabulary she was using
suggested a background of law which wasn’t unusual for a special
agent. Brad caught the last of her conversation as she was saying,
“… and that will take place when I hit Seattle.”
The waiter came about that
time and Brad ordered oatmeal and dry toast with a glass of orange
juice. Nancy ordered poached eggs with an English muffin. The
Director declined and said he must leave early to catch his plane
for Washington. He packed up his briefcase and left not saying
another word to either of them. Brad was left on his own with Nancy
and thought it fitting he would leave her alone with
him.
They ate in silence and he
broke the ice by saying, “When are you leaving for
Seattle?”
With a mouthful of toast she
looked at him while she chewed and after swallowing and a sip of
coffee said, “Right after breakfast. A plane is waiting for me and
after I’m settled in I would like to see you in
Seattle.”
Brad thought it would be a
cold day in hell when he ran to her beckon call. He knew the time
would come when this arrogant woman would be cut down to size. A
field agent she wasn’t; a desk jockey she was. She was completely
out of her realm and about to have a head on collision with
reality. He finished up his oatmeal and with a smile left her
sitting there. His car came up shortly and he tipped the guy and
headed back home to his parent’s house. On the way home he thought
she probably had never been left with a check in her life. However,
he kept his promise to his wife and he was nice. His thoughts
turned grim with the realization of their next encounter would be
something he was dreading.
* * *
In a small town on the east
side of the Cascade Mountains, John sat in his easy chair watching
the first snow of the year float down on Wenatchee, Washington.
He’d left Seattle with a new identity and a reliable used four
wheel drive SUV. His luck was holding and he found a nice room with
his own bathroom in a boarding house stocked with old people. Like
a kid in a candy store he would take the winter to make a plan. For
all that came to know him as Clyde Walker from Seattle recently
retired from Boeing and looking for a small town to relax and enjoy
life, he was accepted with open arms by Christmas. Folks said he
was generous to a fault. They also said they were aware to be wary
of strangers and they all gave him a wary eye until the holidays
brought out the good will of the citizens of Wenatchee.
His disguise was rather
simple as plastic inserts clipped to his molars enlarged his
cheeks. Wireless glasses gave him the retired engineer look. A nose
that was extended was closely nestled above a mustache of his own
beard. A fake goatee closely trimmed completely hid his real self.
John of average size at this time had a waist ban making him look
on the chubby side. In the final analysis people when they saw his
picture in the paper or on TV simply could not believe it was the
same man who killed all those old people.
* * *
Back at the Round House Brad
was briefed on the past doings of his team. Everyone was a little
frustrated and relieved at the same time with the case. No new
murders were a relief; frustration at not learning much new filled
the house.
Brad told the team about
special agent in charge Nancy Longstreet and her upcoming role as
head of the FBI regarding the serial killer case. He conveniently
left out the view of her personality except to his wife. For him,
more important things were on the table than a personal squabble
between agencies. Brad went on with his views and asked questions
about the books.
Mike chipped in by saying,
“I found one book that was interesting and it has a historical look
at all of the presidents of the United States beginning with
Washington.” He handed the book to Brad and said, “Look at the
index where you see a list of the presidents. Move down to chapter
sixteen and see where someone has filled in the bottom of the six
with an ink pen. Now go to chapter sixteen and see the corner of
the page has dog ears and not another page in the book has any dog
ears visible.”
“What do make of this Mike,”
asked Brad.
“I’ll be damned if I know,
but maybe the number sixteen is significant in some
way.”
Agent Jones added, “Letter
‘P” is the sixteenth in the alphabet. Maybe it is an old clue as
the pig farm is history as we know it now. ’
“Hold on a minute,” said
Wendy. “Abe Lincoln was our sixteenth president and maybe the clue
is in his name. The letter “A” might be what he meant.”
“On the map of Washington
there is Aberdeen on the coast west of Olympia,” Mike added while
scanning the map.
“I will run a list of cities
and towns that start with A,” Billy said as he ran to his
computer.
Brad yelled at him to
include Oregon in his list while he was at it. Brad went on to say,
“Let’s assume he’s using the Dennis Radar letter writing of “Catch
me if you can” and will start on the border with Canada with a “C.”
Everyone sat thinking about this while Agent Jones had a map of
Washington and connecting lines for a letter “C.”
Billy came back with a long
list of towns and cities for Washington and Oregon. He said, “The
computer is still working but I have one scenario; take a look at
this,” he had taken a big sheet of paper and on a blank map of
Washington marked three cities or towns that would form a letter
“C.” The first city was Aberdeen located on the coast almost on top
of the forty seventh parallel; up to Anacortes on the forty eight
parallel; and on over to Arden on the same forty eighth parallel.
Now all knew you could play this game many different ways, so when
Brad told the group that what we needed were more discoveries of
his intention to leave clues behind. What that meant was back to
the books and the inventory from the kitchen. By now they had
another list of items from the storage room, but Brad thought what
was in the house gave them the best evidence of his plan with the
copycat “Catch me if you can” letters.
Brad announced, as it was
growing dark, he would go for a run. Company accepted if anyone
cared to work up a sweat before dinner. Billy declined and left to
inhale some more nicotine; Sujin stayed to fix dinner; and the
others all left to run except Mike who stayed to help
Sujin.
In early December the
weather usually has a few days of cold and clear. Frost is rare,
but on occasion one can wake up to a frosty morning on the Oregon
coast. The tide was out and no wind for a rare change. When the
tide turned to come in then a wind would come with it. For now, the
joggers enjoyed the quiet on the beach and the still air. Wendy
couldn’t keep up yet, but was determined to get in shape. Twice a
day she had been running and her legs and lungs ached from the
effort. Tonight they had crossed the creek where it met the low
tide so as not to get their feet too wet and ran south instead of
north. As darkness fell and the moon rose to the east, the runner
made their way back after an hour of running. Brad and Agent Jones
were hardly out of breath walking back up the trail following
Sandy. Wendy was huffing and puffing, but with thigh muscles
burning she followed closely on the heels of the men.
Later sitting down at the
floor table all were happy eating more of Sujin’s cooking. Mostly
it was simple food and not so hard to prepare. Tonight again was a
fish soup and steamed vegetables. Rice and Kimchee and Wendy were
beginning to acquire a taste for Korean cabbage with hot red
peppers. Sujin had showed Wendy the peppers from Korea that her
mother sent. Instead of bright red, like she saw in stores, they
were a maroon color and had a smoother taste than other peppers she
had eaten. Wendy noticed Agent Jones had taken a liking to the
Korean food and was in the swing of things slurping his
soup.
After dinner they all sat,
excluding Billy who disappeared outside to smoke. Drinking green
tea, Brad said, “In the morning if anyone would like to come, we
could do some rock climbing. Nothing serious but I think agent
Jones and Wendy would like it.”
Both Wendy and Jones nodded
their agreement. Wendy looked thoughtful, Brad noticed, and waited
for her to speak. It didn’t take long and Wendy said, “I know this
might sound crazy, but with the number game and alphabet, could
John be using astrology and could this be a cryptogram in his clues
and methods of times and place
s
?”