John: The Senior Killer (11 page)

Agent Jones had arrived in
the morning. Earie was expecting him. After unloading the books he
went for a walk on the beach. Mostly because he didn’t know what to
do while Billy was locked onto the computer and it was only when he
helped with the books and watched him smoke two cigarettes, he
really felt out of place and asked if it would be ok to take a walk
on the beach. Billy told him to help himself and to tell Earie what
he was doing so she could be on the lookout for him when he came
back. Agent Jones had heard about the house on the beach, but never
in his wildest dreams did he realize what it really looked like.
He’s yet to see the basement and yearned with curiosity what lay
under the first floor. Jones thought his mother would have a fit if
she saw the place. He laughed thinking about how she would have
drift wood stacked around the windows and god knows what all for
furniture left to her own devices. He sobered thinking about all
the questions she would have for him when he came back
home.

Agent Jones was fresh out of
law school and had just completed his training at the FBI school.
He’d gotten lucky being stationed near his home in Sausalito. His
parents had sacrificed their lives for his education. His father
worked for PG &E, the Northern California utility company as a
truck driver. He’d worked all the overtime he could get to put his
son through college and then law school. He was proud as a peacock
with his son landing a job with the FBI. His mother bragged too
much with the neighbors about her black son working for the famous
FBI. He loved his parents and now that he was working he had money
deducted from his salary sent to their bank. Billy lived in an
apartment in a not so good part of town in the old town of
Sacramento. However, the rent was cheap and it was good enough for
him for the time being.

Now as the team sat around
the glass table with computer papers and files stacked on it, Brad
asked agent Jones to bring them up to date on the San Diego
findings. Agent Jones began, albeit nervously, by saying, “We made
an ID on the body that was supposed to be John Mitchell. The man
was a look a like and when the autopsy was performed it was ruled a
heart attack. We exhumed the body and did a toxic screen and found
an abnormally high amount of a drug that increases the heart rate.
We presume John Mitchell befriend this man and fed him the drug
which led to heart failure. Close workers of his in the film
company ID John’s body and that was that. He was just another late
middle aged man succumbing to a heart attack. Next we found his
storage unit and from that we got some hair DNA off his clothing.
When the DNA is matched against what you found in Washington we can
then determine who is who. Now to my final report about the books
and what we found were many finger prints and as this man had no
prior record of crimes committed or service in the military, no
record of his prints is on file.” He looked up and made eye contact
with each member to see if there were any questions and when none
were forthcoming, he closed the file he never looked at giving a
sigh of relief.

Brad thanked him and went to
Billy who had just come back down the stairs for a nicotine fix
just in time for his report. Smelling like stale tobacco and
knowing it he stood back after handing everyone a copy of a report.
He said, “I took all the letters of ‘catch me if you can’ and send
them to a friend of mine at Cal. State. They possess a large main
frame and we ran the letters until we came up with the most
probable set of phrases. If you notice on the map of the sites
where he struck, there are two ‘C’s.” The computer combined today’s
computer talk with regular English and came up with this
possibility: “C me if you can.” I know this leads mostly nowhere,
but if you add the ‘S’ into the equation, which is outside the
original message, you come up with this possibility: “Sure you
can.” Of course there is an infinite amount of possibilities given
more than half the alphabet, but in all likely hoods this is the
message.”

The room was quiet and no
one said anything until Wendy cleared her throat and said, “This
guy wants to be caught and is playing the kids game of hide and
seek.”

Brad sat there thoughtfully
and said, “The books will tell us where he is and I’m afraid we
have a long process ahead of us page by page and book by book. I
feel he is going to ground now that winter is coming. I also think
he needs to devise a game plan to finish off his task. I for one am
going to take a run on the beach and if anyone wants to join me,
they are welcome.”

Mike said he would go home
and be back tomorrow. Wendy said she would like to join him in
running but it has been a long time since she ran anywhere. Billy
said he would run upstairs and out the door for a date with a
Marlboro. Steve left to go to his room and make the dreaded phone
call to his superior. Sujin went upstairs to tell her sister to go
home and that Mike would give her a ride. After that she put on her
running shoes and sweat pants, a pullover sweat shirt and a
windbreaker and was standing at the door waiting for her husband
and Wendy to arrive. Rocky was waiting with her dancing from foot
to foot waiting to run on the beach with them. Agent Jones fooled
everyone and came up at the same time with Brad dressed to run. He
had long powerful legs and out of his suit, he had a nice body that
surprised Wendy.

It turned out the Brad and
Jones left the girls behind and to Sujin’s hospitality she stayed
with Wendy who alternated between a fast walk and short runs. Rain
running down her face, hair soaked she was determined to get into
shape come hell or high tide. I’ll not be the weak link in this
team she thought. Sujin saw the determination on her face and gave
her encouragement. A week later, Wendy could run a mile without
stopping and by the end of three weeks, could do five miles or a
run to the jetty and back with ease.

After Brad and Steve huddled
for a few hours the next day, Steve left for Washington and Brad
went with him to Palm Springs to see his father. The team still had
lots of work to do with the books and after a few days the team had
grown close. Mike, Billy and Sujin made them feel like they were
important and they were. Agent Jones and Wendy held their weight
with the team and if anyone could stop this madman the team
could.

Down in Palm Springs the
weather as usual was sunny and warm even though it was the first of
December. Sitting in his father’s study with Steve, the two of them
gave Brad’s father the respect due. His role was small, but
important as his former position as a high ranking officer in Naval
Intelligence he cut through a lot of red tape with his contacts.
Such as the time Brad needed two helicopters to evacuate wounded
and his team of Seals from deep in the jungles of South America, he
provides the lifesaving air support he needed. Many times he had
proved his ability to make the seemingly impossible happen. His
pound of flesh came in the form of being in the loop and no detail
left out. Rumor had it the he still had the ear of the second term
president from Texas.

Brad’s mother told him one
time that reason he did it was to not be forgotten by his busy son.
And she never failed to tell her son she needed to have some
grandkids soon. Brad always blushed like a schoolboy and told his
mother they were working on it.

To Brad sitting in his
father’s study felt both comfortable and relaxing. The room, and
the house for that matter, reflected a typical retired general’s
house. He still played golf with his cronies at his local golf
club. Now Brad was listening to Steve and his father talk about the
serial killer known as John Mitchell. Brad looked at the familiar
things in the room. A desk the size of a battleship sat in front of
a sliding glass door leading to the back yard. Brad smiled and
thought if he was a kid again he could sit in his dad’s desk chair
with wheels and roll in the pool which lay not fifteen feet from
the sliding doors. Of course on one wall a bookcase with your
typical naval histories and his old law books from way too many
years ago were stacked from ceiling to floor in a beautiful oak
bookcase. Opposite the bookcase a wall full of pictures from over
the years was lined up at attention waiting for a young recruit to
salute the wall. His mother, along with a Filipino domestic worker
made sure not a speck of dust marred the pictures. Famous
presidents from Nixon to the two Bush’s with his father standing at
their side gave Brad a sense of duty. Now his country was counting
on him to stop this John Mitchell with whatever it took to assist
him in bringing to a halt his killing of our senior
citizens.

“Brad,” he heard his father
say, “Are you listening to me?”

“No sir, I’m thinking about
taking a swim.”

“My God boy, a killer is
loose on our people and all you can think about is taking a
swim?”

“Yes sir, Steve can fill you
in and after dinner tonight over a glass of your precious brandy, I
will answer any and all of your questions,” he said with a soft
voice, but a look of seriousness instilled his father’s confidence
in him.

“Off with you then as Steve
and I have important things to discuss while you fritter away the
time.”

Brad laughed and Steve
cracked a small grin as Brad left to change into swim trucks and
have a talk with his mother by the pool side. After countless laps
back and forth his mother bought out some fresh squeezed lemonade.
They sat under a large umbrella and he listened while his mother
talked about their retirement. “Your father is bored Brad. He needs
more to do. He misses the action and if at all possible could you
involve him more from your business?”

“Mom, he is very important
to our team and plays a large role in supporting. However, he is
not a field man and neither is Steve. You can see by Steve’s face
he is a tired man flying coast to coast and from meeting to
meeting. Father wouldn’t like that and neither would you. My
suggestion is moving to Florida, buy a boat and that would be
something you both could enjoy.”

“We never thought of that
and I will talk to your father about that tonight behind the
bedroom door,” she said with an out of character giggles. Brad
grinned and then she told him the FBI Director would be here for
dinner and Brad was a little taken aback about by the news, but no
outward signs could be seen on his face. He winked at his mother
thanking her for the heads up on tonight’s plan. Then he excused
himself for a trip to the shower to wash off the
chlorine.

The current FBI Director was
an unassuming looking middle aged man. Since nine eleven so many
changes had occurred in all of the governing law and intelligence
agencies. The pressure to produce and prevent haunted every agency
and in particular the FBI. Not with this new threat of a senior
serial killer, the heat was on the FBI to produce and prevent. The
director was saying this to them just before dinner was served,
sitting in the study, “We have over five hundred agents working on
this case. It appears we are no closer now to apprehending this guy
than when he first started his killing spree. Yes, I know you are
going to tell me how much you have learned, but the sixty four
dollar question is: are we any closer now to catching this guy than
before?” The table went quiet if it was possible for it to get any
quieter.

Brad never one to be at a
loss for words said, looking the director in the eye, “We will
catch this guy, but time is not on our side. He is smart and more
than that he is clever. He taunts and we will out think him. He’s
leaving a trail behind him, but to catch him we must know where he
will go next. It is my opinion he will go to ground now and wait
until spring to hatch a new plan. Now we must be patient and out
think this guy. It is also my opinion he is pretty much through
with California and now Washington and Oregon are his next targets.
We suggest you concentrate your efforts on Washington State
especially around the northern regions both east and west of the
Cascade Mountains.”

The director never missed a
word and thanked Brad for his input and advice. Then he said,
mostly to Brad, “I’ve selected a special agent to take charge of
the investigation and she will headquarter in Seattle for the time
being. Brad I would like you to meet her and if you will be so kind
to have breakfast with us tomorrow at our hotel, I will introduce
her to you.”

“I will be there as
requested. However, Mr.
D
irector I feel you are not happy
about something and I for one get the impression you are doing
something that goes against your grain,” he said in a louder than
normal voice.”

“You are right. This goes
against what I stand for and that is the FBI shouldn’t have to call
in a special unit to do their job. It’s nothing personal Brad, but
I’ve been instructed to give you and your unit whatever you
request. I have a question and if you don’t mind I would like a
straightforward answer. My question is this, why do you think you
and your team can do what we can’t do. If I’m to understand your
background is military and not crime investigation is that
correct?”

“Yes it is Mr. Director. But
if I understand the word investigation correctly it means to look
for something. Now I realize that is simplifying the term, but in
reality that is exactly what we are doing: looking for something.
For example, if you are looking for a red house and you drive
around looking for one, eventually you will find a red house. Now,
that is simple deductive work. In this case, the human mind is not
objective and not easy to simplify, but is a complex organism
without limits. In this case we are looking for something that few
people know how to look for it. Most murderers leave clues and the
FBI is an excellent agency to have on the investigative scene, but
is this particular case we are dealing with a person who resides
outside the normal state of mental reasoning. We have only a
handful of examples to work with and each one of those past serial
killers had their own unique way of killing. Look at Ted Bundy,
Gary what’s his last name, Jeffery Dahmer, BTK, and the Unabomber
and others. Now we have a guy who was and is most likely a
schizophrenic and who of us can cross that line of mental knowledge
to determine where and when he will strike again.”