“I, we think he is holed up
somewhere doing some inner reflection of the last adventure in
Anacortes.”
“I think the same thing and
let’s concentrate on this operation assigned to us for the time
being.” He went on to tell them his plan to operate on the boarder
of China and North Korea as a Buddhist monk in the city of Dandong.
He would take Rocky with him and Sujin would stay here and have a
photograph showing at a local photo clubs place. He also told them
of where they would headquarter and set up their communication
system and computers. One more thing, he told them, “Keep working
on the serial killer and let’s see if we can a lead on his
whereabouts.”
After breakfast they left
for the office and at lunch time all was to their satisfaction due
to the fine hospitality of the Koreans. Billy was especially happy
as a lot of Koreans smoked and he had no trouble satisfying his
habit among them. Brad took Mike aside and they took the next three
hours going over a plan for him to join Brad in Dandong a few days
after Brad established a place to hang their robes. After the
meeting Mike left to get a haircut. Things were taking shape and
Brad were happy about the way the team was working together so
well.
Later in the evening they
had dinner at Sujin’s mother’s house. Koreans are used to a big
family eating and all were especially happy to share their time
with Sujin’s parents. This was Rockies first trip to Asia. He
wasn’t happy until he nosed and smelled the entire house over
before he finally relaxed by his master. At first the Korean family
was a little scared of the big dog, but when he minded his own
business and was so well trained, they enjoyed his company. It was
late into the early morning hours before all went either back to
their hotel or to bed. Brad had told his father in law all about
the famous Senior Killer is roaming the Pacific Northwest and
California. The whole family was shocked at the news they had been
watching on TV about the killer. Sujin's father knew about Brad and
teams tenacity when on an operation and thought the Senior Killer
hadn’t seen the last of Brad’s team.
The next day, aboard a
South Korean fishing boat Brad and Rocky left for China. All had
been arranged by the government of China for his and his team’s
arrival in China. They’d been told it was simply an intelligence
operation and no violence would be expected. Brad felt a little
uneasy about this operation. Not enough information to base his
usual well thought out plan existed for his liking. Rocky sensed
his discomfort and rubbed his nose on his master’s leg telling him
he was there for when he needed him.
It was close to the end of
June when Brad, Rocky and Mike entered China searching for some
concrete evidence of the North having the ability or the actual
possession of a nuclear weapon.
Meanwhile across the
Pacific Ocean in a small town at the foothills on the east side of
the Cascade Mountain, John enjoyed the summer and towards the end
of August decided it was time to continue his madness to punish the
old for punishing him and his brothers for no reason other than
being kids and adults.
John left for Arden on the
first of September with a plan in mind. Of course he knew some
agents of the FBI were in the area and by now the residents of the
town had calmed down with nothing in the news about the serial
killer in months. Most thought he moved on or was still in Canada.
However, he was very much in the game as he drove up from Spokane
to Arden complete with a new look and a new ploy for the
unsuspecting.
Back in Seattle, Nancy was
pacing the floor of her office. Her agents had nothing new to go on
and the two agents in Arden were bored to tears. The two agents had
been camped out in an old used RV parked behind the convenience
store run by the two Koreans set up by Brad. It was early in the
morning and it was sure to be another hot one as summer refused to
move way for fall. The two agents lay one on a bed and the other
one sitting at the small table listening to the sound of the a/c
run. An electric cord ran from the store to their RV and if the
dude showed up again, a button would alert the agents with a door
bell ring.
Not far away at the post
office a white car with a US Mail placard stuck in the window
showing a mail car owned by an employee of the postal service with
a yellow flashing light attached to the roof with the cord running
to the cigar lighter, sat waiting for an old person to exit the
post office. Behind the wheel sat the Senior Killer dressed in blue
pants with a postal service light blue shirt on. It was easy enough
to acquire from a uniform store in Spokane. Next to his leg sat a
clipboard with a fresh new envelope marked certified waiting for an
address to make it look official. His plan was to follow a senior
to his residence, show him the envelope and sign his clipboard
acknowledging receipt of said documents. Unfortunately for the
resident, his pen doesn’t work and asks to borrow a pen. While the
person goes looking for a pen, he follows him in and close the
door.
John continued to wait
listening to the occasional logging truck going by and the birds
chirping in the morning shade of the trees. His thoughts turned
ugly as he flashed back to his youth where among the squealing pigs
and the familiar smell of the pig pen, his father whipping the hell
out of him and his brothers. His father was drunk as usual and the
all too familiar smell of his rank beer breath returned to him like
a slam dunk of an NBA player. God how he hated the smell of pigs
and beer; and he had lots of time to think about it in the pitch
black room of their cell under the kitchen.
Then a smile crossed his
plain face when he remembered taking a shovel to his father when
his back was turned feeding the pigs. He felt now the vibration of
the wooden handle and the sound when the metal met his skull
reminded him of a hollow watermelon when it was tested for
ripeness. After that they cut him up and fed him to the pigs all
but the head and that they buried in the middle of the pig
pen.
A car drove in and parked;
a lanky guy in farmers bib overall stepped out slowly and ambled to
the door struggling to open it from lack of strength. He had his
mark. Time to rock and roll, he thought. Five minutes later he
comes out looking at a bunch of junk mail. It took him another five
minutes to start up his car and back out slowly due to his neck not
being able to turn around enough to let him see what was behind
him. John thought the guy must be pushing eighty five at least. It
was time for him to say bye - bye to this world and take a trip to
the next one.
Blue smoke from his exhaust
nearly choked John as he followed the guy out of town. The car was
obviously on its last legs as was the driver. Three miles north of
town he pulled off the highway onto a short gravel road. An old
mail box gave John his name and address. He quickly wrote the name
and address on the envelope and pulled into the driveway a few
minutes after the old man did sitting in the middle of the car like
a mailman would look like delivering the mail on country
roads.
He put on his hat and
climbed the old creaky steps to a shallow covered porch. He noticed
two old rocking chairs the color of bleached blonde. Like a
skeleton, he mused. A knock on the door produced the old man after
a two minute wait. The door opened to a face that had more lines on
it than a city map. Sorrowful eyes, a milky gray stared at the
envelope in John’s hand. John said, “Are you Pete
Chandler?”
“Yes, and do you have
something for me,” he asked with a voice to match his wrinkles.
Sunlight was filtering down through the giant old tree guarding the
house from the sun during the hot days of summer casting shadows
across the yard.
“Please sign here,” as John
gave his pen that wouldn’t work. The man tried to write his name
and John said, “Oh that darn old pen. I don’t have another so could
you maybe use one of your pens to sign my sheet?”
“Yes, just a minute while I
find one,” he said turning around and walking back into the small
house leaving the door open. John the Senior Killer quickly walked
in and closed the door. From the kitchen he could hear the old man
ask where a pen was with another person. Must be his wife, he
thought. Well, a two for one sale this month I guess, as he moved
to the opening to a small kitchen. The woman looked up from her
sink of breakfast dishes and was a bit startled by seeing the
postman in her doorway. The old man was still rummaging around in a
junk drawer for a pen when the old lady dropped a dish she was
drying onto the floor when she saw what John had in his hand: a
shiny new Marlin spike.
The old man said, when the
dish hit the floor breaking into many pieces, “What the hell,” and
turned to look at John standing there with a sadistic look on his
face holding a long steel spike in his hand. A shot of cold fear
ran up and down his body knowing this was the serial killer in his
house. The old man moved next to his wife and put his arm around
her shoulder, all the while never taking his eyes off the deadly
weapon.
“Mr. and Mrs. Chandler it
is time to meet your maker. Neither of you are worth much and
probably regret that you beat the hell out of your kids when they
were young. Well, now is time to pay the piper. Come here the both
of you and show me your bedroom.” Slowly they walked past him down
a short hall to a small neat bedroom with a hand quilt nicely laid
over the top of a stark white bedspread. “Now lay face down on the
bed,” he ordered. The old lady and Pete were both shaking with fear
and their already white faces were even paler than usual. The old
lady started to cry sobbing while she lay down on the bed facing
her husband.
Time was running and John
wanted to hurry up this job and get out of town. He moved to the
old lady first knowing if he did the old man she might panic. In
seconds the sound of steel against bone then tissue stilled the
life of the old lady. Quickly he moved around the bed and
duplicated the procedure so well perfected by now. As usual he
wiped the spike off and returned it to its rightful place on his
leg holster. He walked out the door leaving the envelope for the
feds to mull over and slipped the flashing yellow light off the
roof and took down his US MAIL placard. He tossed his hat in the
back seat and changed his shirt. Backing out of the driveway he
left the Chandler place whistling a nameless tune. On the way out
of town, he stopped at the post office and mailed a letter to the
Seattle Times. After that he drove safely back to Spokane where he
abandoned his car, again leaving the keys in it. He took a bus to
the airport and retrieved his SUV from the parking lot. Then he
drove to I-90 and headed west bound completely satisfied with his
days’ work.
* * *
Brad and Mike were sitting
in a Buddhist Temple with a North Korean wanting to defect to the
Western World. He said he preferred the USA as many agents from the
North were in Seoul. His story was anything but usual. He’d been
locked underground for years while working on the nuclear bomb. The
story he told couldn’t be anything but the truth as it was so
startling to the ears of Brad and Mike they both were convinced he
told mostly the truth. Rocky gave Brad the look of this is a good
guy and that sealed the deal. Now they had to get this guy out of
China and down to Seoul for debriefing or onto a US submarine for
transport to Guam.
Codes had been set up in a
cell to call to alert Billy they had what they came for. In
addition, if a person or persons, including themselves needed
evacuating, a phrase agreed upon before they left Seoul would be
used for a special pickup. In this case a small cargo ship from
South Korea was in dock at Nanjian, just south of
Dandong.
Arrangements made they rode
an old truck full of monks down to Nanjian. From there it was
fairly simple to sail across to South Korea. Once back on the Korea
soil, the North Korean was whisked away by members of the CIA and
their counterparts from South Korea. Brad heard later the guy had a
wealth of information and would be placed under the witness
protection plan in America.
Steve greeted Brad upon his
arrival back in South Korea with bad news. The Senior Killer had
struck again in Arden right under the noses of the FBI. Brad was
less than curious and Steve felt the vibrations coming from his
friend. No doubt he felt used and abused by the new FBI director
and his first response to Steve was to let the FBI make the case.
He said, rather too forcefully to Steve, “What you’re telling me is
that my team is needed and the FBI is crawling back on their hands
and knees asking for our help? ’
“I guess that is it in a
nutshell,” Steve replied while sipping a cup of Korea coffee in
Brad’s father in laws house. Sujin was starting to show now and her
photo showing was a great success. A local popular photography
magazine was going to do a full issue of her photos and wanted a
contract signed to do more. She was excited and so was
Brad.
Brad said, “I think my team
will take some time off and relax on the beach watching the storms
come ashore this fall. We are due for a rest and let the Hoover
boys and girls take on the serial killer. Besides, Sujin is not
getting any smaller and if she needs me I want to be there for her.
Now, what I will do is feed the FBI information from the beach
house about what we can learn from the computer and his clues that
are left scattered around the Pacific Northwest.”