Monster (5 page)

“You…” Reskova began, starting to get to her feet. Rutledge grabbed her arm.

“The Colonel’s right, Diane. Give the little girl a break. You can do anything you like when we get out of these damn woods.”

Reskova shrugged her off but stayed silent.

“Is there anywhere we can land a helicopter and cut the trip back short, Colonel,” Barrington asked.

“Yep, there’s a meadow only a half hour away we can use for an LZ,” McDaniels answered examining the lightly browned, toasted marshmallow Alicia held up for him to inspect. “We can call in the coordinates tomorrow morning. Let me have one of those sticks and marshmallows, Jen. They look good.”

“Diane said you were bringing the tents, Colonel,” Barrington said.

“I have four of those tube type tents. I’ll get them out a little later.” He took out the water bottles he had refilled before going after Hughes from the pack Alicia leaned against. He passed them out to the agents. “There are bears and such out here. I have a bear bag to string all our food up with.”

“Did I mention I hate it out here?” Rutledge glanced around uneasily.

“That makes about the five hundredth time, Jen,” Barrington joked.

“Just checking,” Rutledge replied as Alicia laughed.

“You have to use a shovel too when you go to the bathroom,” Alicia informed her. “Otherwise the animals will smell it, right Jeremiah?”

“That’s right, little one. You’re pretty good at this camping stuff.” McDaniels chuckled, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. He placed two small packets which said baby wipes on them near a folding camp shovel where everyone could see them.

“Bury anything you do about eighteen inches down,” McDaniels said.

“Where?” Rutledge asked hesitantly.

“Jesus, Rutledge, out there behind a tree somewhere,” Reskova told her with some exasperation.

“In the dark?” Rutledge continued. Alicia giggled at the comical look on Rutledge’s face. “I never saw Scully head out into the woods with a shovel on the X-Files.”

Even Reskova laughed.

Chapter 4

Cold
Mountain

While Alicia lay sleeping in the small hiker’s tent, McDaniels and the three FBI agents remained by the fire.

“You know, Colonel, there ain’t hardly any way we can help you out on this Hughes’ thing,” Barrington said at just above a whisper.

“I don’t want any help,” McDaniels replied, reaching inside his pack and taking out a clear plastic bag. He handed it over to Barrington. “Look, I had every intention of killing that sick piece of shit. After I found the razor wire trap, I decided to return it.”

Barrington looked through the bag, with Reskova and Rutledge leaning in for a better view. Inside the bag two large pieces of wood had been attached to a bloody piece of razor wire.

“What is that?” Rutledge asked. “Oh… a…”

“Garrote,” Reskova finished for her. “Is this about Fullujah?”

“No,” McDaniels stated without hesitation. “You should take five seconds, Agent Reskova, and tell me everything you know about Fallujah.”

“You could have just shot him,” Rutledge said, ignoring McDaniels’ pointed reply.

“Not without risking the little one’s life,” McDaniels replied quietly. “I needed a way to not only stop him from doing something by reflex, but also a way to drag him away from her at the same time.”

“This won’t play well in the press,” Barrington sighed. “We could say you were fighting with him and Hughes fell on his own razor wire strung around his camp.”

“I already called Dreyer back and let him know what happened. I’m not making up some fish story for this guy,” Reskova stated. “Forget it.”

McDaniels grinned, the scar on his face glowing eerily in the campfire’s light. “Thanks for the thought, Tom. I’m with Agent Reskova on this. I’m not going to lie about it. I don’t care what the press thinks about it, or Dreyer.”

“They could send you to prison, Colonel,” Rutledge added. “Why’d you do it?”

McDaniels shrugged. “It seemed like the thing to do at the time.”

* * *

The transport helicopter circled the parking lot. Police on duty there pushed the crowd of people and press back away from the landing site. Barrington, Reskova, and Rutledge were watching the crowd below. McDaniels sat with Alicia where they had her on a gurney strapped into place.

“Who’s brilliant idea was this circus, Diane?” Barrington asked. “There has to be at least a couple hundred people down there. How can this help anything?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t know,” Reskova answered. “With the high profile people involved in this, it doesn’t surprise me.”

“You don’t think Uncle Frank would use this as a photo op, do you?” Rutledge asked sarcastically as the helicopter touched down.

“Actually, no,” Reskova replied. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if one of his minions tipped off the press.”

“Or someone with AD Dreyer, perhaps?” Barrington offered.

The helicopter touched down. A team of medical personnel ran up to the side door of the huge copter, accompanied by Alicia’s worried looking parents.

“I’ll see you again won’t I?” Alicia asked McDaniels, clutching his hand with both of hers as Barrington and the doctor they had sent along on the pickup undid the restraints around the gurney.

“You have my card, little one,” McDaniels replied, patting her hands. “Call me when all this stuff blows over.”

“You… you’re in trouble, aren’t you?” Alicia asked as she was propelled toward the open helicopter hatch and a cacophony of noise beyond. “I am missing you already.”

McDaniels waved to her one final time. The gurney disappeared into a crowd of arms and noise. McDaniels sat down again holding onto his pack with the grisly bag tied to the side. Rutledge and Barrington looked back at him sympathetically before exiting the helicopter. Reskova walked back to him and gestured for McDaniels to follow her. Before they reached the hatch, Dreyer bounded on board, motioning Reskova and McDaniels to hold up.

“The press picked up your second transmission, Diane, and your call in this morning with the coordinates,” Dreyer explained.

“Jesus… that explains the crowd… sorry, Sir. What can we do?”

“Not much we can do. The morning addition and all the newscasts led with it in all its gory glory,” Dreyer answered, handing her the paper in his hand.

The headline read:
Kidnapper Beheaded, Senator Hokanson’s Niece Unhurt
. Reskova skimmed over the story with McDaniels reading over her shoulder with bemused indifference. Reskova finished, and looked up at Dreyer with real dread.

“Oh my God,” Reskova whispered. “They list us as being with him on this. I…”

“They’re out there,” McDaniels interrupted. “I’ll tell them the truth.”

“You can’t, Colonel,” Dreyer replied, shaking his head. “It would constitute a public confession of murder. You…”

“So what?” McDaniels shrugged. “I’m sick of this crap where human demons terrorize us and when they get caught in the act we crucify the captors for proper etiquette. I’ll take the heat.”

McDaniels left his bag where it lay. He walked toward the hatch without hesitation. The waiting gaggle of journalists with microphones and video camera setups crowded outside the helicopter. Reskova grabbed his arm, seeking to restrain him. McDaniels walked by her as if she had not touched him, yanking her forward slightly before she released him. Dreyer shook his head at Reskova.

“Let him go, Diane. It’s his funeral. We need him to confirm we had nothing to do with Hughes’ death. It’ll sound a hell of a lot better coming from him,” Dreyer said.

Reskova nodded but followed McDaniels out anyway. McDaniels was already in a sea of news people, jockeying around for position, and shoving microphones toward the big man, shouting out questions in rapid-fire bursts. McDaniels smiled, nodding and waving. When McDaniels said nothing, the reporters quieted somewhat.

“Hello,” McDaniels said. “I’ve been told you have some misconceptions about the rescue of Alicia Hokanson. I…”

“Does that mean you didn’t cut Hughes’ head off,” a reporter in the front interrupted.

“No, but the FBI did not sanction my actions, or stand by and allow it to happen,” McDaniels stated. “I found a razor wire trap Hughes had set for us on his trail. I crimped it between two pieces of wood. While he watched the FBI agents who were nowhere near me, I came up behind him. Using the razor wire as a garrote, I killed Hughes. It was only then I released the little girl, covered her up, and rejoined the FBI agents. They knew nothing of what I had planned, or what I would do.”

Shocked silence reigned, as McDaniels’ simple recounting of Hughes’ death chilled even the cynical reporters. After a moment, news people whispered anxiously to their producers about whether to cut off from live feed. Finally, a woman reporter began shouting questions.

“Were you armed with a gun? Why didn’t you ask him to surrender? What…”

“One at a time, Ma’am,” McDaniels cut in. “I did have a gun. I didn’t even consider letting him know I was there. The little girl was within his reach.”

“Who made you judge, jury, and executioner?” The reporter next to her barked out.

“Partly the circumstances and partly because anyone going after these sub-human monsters should not be handcuffed by some rulebook. He didn’t steal a loaf of bread. He kidnapped and tortured a little girl. I caught him red-handed. He’s in hell and the FBI agents, little girl, and me are just fine.”

“He was a survivalist and an expert in the woods. How do we know he wasn’t sleeping when you killed him?” Another asked quickly.

McDaniels shrugged. “Why would I lie? If I had snuck up on him when he was sleeping, I might have done the same thing. As it happened, he wasn’t sleeping and I guess he wasn’t as good as I am in the woods.”

“You can be tried for murder, Sir,” the same reporter followed up.

“I expect so,” McDaniels replied.

“Do you picture yourself as some kind of mountain man, like
Jeremiah Johnson
in that movie of Robert Redford’s?” A man in suit and tie with a CBS camera crew shouted out from the fringe of the crowd.

McDaniels smiled. “About the only movie I remember making an impression on me, was that one about the Civil War I saw a while back, called
Cold
Mountain
. I really liked the line Rene Zellwigger recited toward the end:
“
Every piece of this is Man’s bull-shit. They call this war a cloud over the land; but they made the weather! And then they stand in the rain, sayin’ Shit, it’s rainin’.
”

McDaniels repeated the line, imitating the actress’ inflection as he remembered it.

After a moment, the woman who had asked the first question asked another, confusion in her voice.

“So you’re saying this happened because of something in your past?”

“Nope - only that I like the rain.”

A ripple of laughter went through the crowd. Reskova took the opportunity to step between McDaniels and the reporters. “That will be all for now. A statement from the FBI will be issued as soon as we finish our investigation.”

As Reskova tried to propel McDaniels through the crowd with Dreyer’s help, they were bombarded with more questions about whether the FBI was arresting McDaniels. Both Reskova and Dreyer repeated a no comment mantra as they worked their way through the crowd of reporters. Dreyer’s car was waiting for them. The trio jammed into it quickly. Dreyer’s driver took off immediately.

Reskova looked over at McDaniels who sat next to her in the back. “You could get the needle for making those statements.”

“Yep.”

“Why did you do it, Colonel?” Dreyer asked, leaning over the seat.

“It was the safest way to take him out - and I wanted to kill him.”

“We’ll have to take you into custody,” Dreyer said.

“I realize that. The homemade garrote is in my bag. I guess you’ll have someone get my bag and the head, right?”

“Already taken care of,” Dreyer answered. “They’ll pick up the body later on in the day. You should never have volunteered for this if you had the intention of murdering Hughes. I’m sorry our transmission was picked up.”

“I’m still getting paid for this, right?”

“Just as promised,” Dreyer answered. “I know better than to break a deal with you.”

“Good.” McDaniels leaned back with his hands behind his head.

* * *

McDaniels, dressed in an orange jumpsuit, ducked slightly through the doorway. The guard trailing him indicated the seat at the small conference table opposite the three people sitting on the other side. Agent Reskova, AD Dreyer, and a very well dressed man in his late thirties waited for Colonel McDaniels to sit down. Before either of the FBI agents could speak, the man with them stood up quickly and grasped McDaniels’ handcuffed hands in both of his across the table.

“Colonel, I’m Frank Hokanson. Thank you for saving my niece. I’m sorry for this delay in getting to see you. The legal team I hired for you had a bit of difficulty with the DA in this place. Guard, take the Colonel’s cuffs off please.”