The Secret of the Stones (4 page)

Chapter
4

Nevada

Through
a giant arched window, the last rays of afternoon sun shone through the glass
onto the dark walnut floor.
 
A man
with gray hair and a wrinkled face gazed out at the mountainous scene.
 
His mind was occupied, busy with a task
few knew about.
 
An old phone on a
large oak desk rang the way phones did twenty years ago.
 
Aroused from his thoughts, the old
figure sitting in the shadows of his study reached over to answer.

“Have
you begun?”
 
His voice was direct
and commanding.

“Yes.
 
Everything is in place as you wished,
sir.”
 
The voice on the other end
of the line was foreign.

“And
you are certain that Schultz will lead you to the answers we seek?”

“One
hundred percent sure.”

“And
Wyatt?”

“He
will not be a problem.”  

“Is
he dead?”

“No.
 
But he does not have access to the
information.”

“Why
is he still alive?”
 
Irritation
laced the old man’s words.

“Do
not worry, sir.
 
The homing beacon
is working on Wyatt’s vehicle.
 
I
will know every move he makes.
 
He
is predictable if nothing else.”

“I
am not worried.
 
I simply know
exactly what this Sean Wyatt is capable of.
 
You are the expert in these matters, so I expect you to know
exactly what I am talking about.
 
We are proceeding with the plan that you presented, but if at any moment
I feel like things are getting out of control, I will not hesitate to pull
you.”
 
The threat created silence
on the other end for a moment before the shadowed figured continued.
 
“Keep me informed of any further
developments.
 
And Jens…”

“Yes
sir.”

“Dispose
of the woman.
 
She can serve no
purpose for us.”

“Of
course, sir.”

The
dark figure in the high leather back chair gently laid the receiver back onto
the phone base and returned to gazing through the large study window.
 

Soon,
he thought, the whole world would change.

Chapter
5

Atlanta,
Georgia

It
had been a busy day already for Detective Trent Morris.
 
He had been working since 7:00
a.m.
 
And now, right in the middle
of the morning, he gets a call for a double homicide at a coffee shop in
Buckhead.
 
And from the sound of
it, it wasn’t going to be a routine call.

When
he arrived on the scene, one of the CSI guys already on task informed him that
they were unable to find any identification on the two victims.
 
Both were males, roughly the same
muscular build, dark brown hair, and wearing very similar suits with long,
black coats.
 
Each one was wearing
sunglasses as well.
 

If
he didn’t know better, Morris would have sworn the guys were Secret
Service.
 
Unaware of any possible
Presidential visit to North Atlanta today, that was an easy thought to swear
off.
 

Morris
was an imposing presence and commanded a great deal of respect with his
co-workers.
 
He had grown up in
Atlanta with six brothers and sisters just southeast of the city.
 
Being the oldest had taught him a great
deal about responsibility.
 
He
walked with purpose through the police tape, lifting his badge that dangled on
a lanyard from his neck as he passed the officer working the perimeter.
 
Nodding a “thank you” to the cop
lifting the tape for him, Trent breathed in the mild city air.
 
An array of odors mingled in his nose:
restaurants, trees, car exhaust, and cigarette smoke from a couple of the other
detectives already on the scene.

“What
do we got here, Will?”
 
He spoke as
he neared a familiar face kneeling over one of the bodies.

His
partner, Will Hastings, had been transferred to the department a few weeks
ago.
 
The twenty something white
kid had been a breath of fresh air to the investigation unit, and he and Trent
had developed an instant chemistry.
 
The younger cop had a go-getter attitude much like Morris had when he
joined the police force.
 
But
something about the kid seemed seasoned, not too eager like so many rookies
he’d seen.

Will
turned at the sound of his name and stood up, pulling off the latex gloves he’d
been using.
 
“Hey, buddy.”
 
He glanced down at the mess.
 
“At least we got the call in the
morning.
 
Usually this kind of
thing happens at the end of a shift.”

“Just
thinking that myself, brother.
 
So
what’s the story here?”
 
Trent
strode over to the body Will had just been inspecting and looked down.
 
“This where they were done?”

“Looks
that way.
 
Shots were from up close.
 
From the looks of it, they came from
over there near that black car.
 
This one’s fatal wound was to the head,” he motioned to one victim.
 
“This guy here,” he pointed to the
second, “was shot in the throat.
 
Probably only took him a minute to die.”
 
One victim lay sprawled on his back, arms splayed in
different directions.
 
The other
was positioned face down on the asphalt, in a pool of blood from the exit hole in
the back of his skull.
 

“One
fell forward and the other guy just collapsed back.”
 
Trent continued his partner’s line of thought.

“We
know who these guys are yet?”

“We’re
trying to ID them right now but they didn’t have anything on them.”

“Robbed?”
 
Trent was trying to piece this together
as quick as possible.
 
Hunger
gnawed at him.
 
As if hearing his
stomach grumbling, a young beat cop walked up with a fresh cup of coffee from
inside the shop.
 
“Coffee sir?”

“You
read my mind, Kyle.
 
Thanks.”

The
young officer seemed pleased with the gratitude and walked back over to the
perimeter to relieve the cop Trent had seen when he first arrived.

Will
responded to the previous question, “I don’t think it was a robbery.
 
These guys both had Glock 9mms.
 
Powder residue on their hands indicates
they took some shots, too, and there are bullet casings all over the ground
matching their weapons.”

“What
kind of gun did them?”

“Ballistics
hasn’t said yet, but I’d say it was probably a forty of some kind.
 
Sort of looks like a hit gone wrong.”

“Great,”
Trent thought.
 
That was the last
thing the town needed on top of the rising level of gang violence.
 
Through the years, Atlanta had seen its
fair share of corruption, but for the most part, organized crime had not been
able to take root.
 
With so many
international corporations transplanting to the growing city, there had not
been room for the much more localized operations of the mob.
 

“So,
are we talking Mafia type?
 
I mean,
shouldn’t assassinations be someone we’ve heard of?”

“Doubt
it.
 
Got a witness over there.
 
Said he saw the whole thing.
 
Claims it was a man and a woman.
 
The department’s artist is over there
right now getting their description.
 
He speaks with some kind of accent.
 
Sounds like German to me but I can’t really tell.”
 

Trent
looked over at the witness, sitting on one of the patio chairs looking about as
unnerved as a person could look.
 
The guy had probably never seen a murder before, much less two.
 
He was blonde, late twenties, early
thirties, probably around 6’2’’, two hundred pounds.
 
His jaw was distinct much like the rest of his bone structure.
 
Wearing a police issue blanket around
his shoulders he looked visibly upset as he described the suspects to the
artist.

“Any
sign of the weapons?”
 
Morris took
a sip of his coffee, pleasantly surprised that it was just how he liked
it.
 
He looked over at Kyle and
raised the cup in appreciation who returned the gesture with a simple nod and a
wave of the hand.

“Haven’t
found them yet.
 
We got a team
going through the nooks and crannies in the surrounding blocks but nothing so
far.
 
Witness said that the two
suspects hopped in a car and tore out the back entrance.”

“A
male and a female?
 
Did the witness
get a good look at the car?”
 
Trent
dared to hope.

“I’ll
go you one better.
 
1969 Camaro, silver
with black trim, and the witness even got the plates memorized.
 
So, odds are, we aren‘t going to need
those sketches anyway.”

Trent
could not believe what he was hearing.
 
This might actually be over within an hour. “Have I told you lately that
I love you?”

“No.
 
But you can buy me a beer later,
instead.”
 
Will returned the
smile.
 

“Done.
 
So who do the plates belong to?”

“Car
is registered to a Sean Wyatt.
 
Lives out near Dunwoody on the north side of town.
 
No word on the occupation yet, but we got
three units headed that way right now to check it out.”

“Good.
 
Let’s get up there and see what this is
all about.”

The
two detectives turned and walked away from the victims, who were now being
bagged in non-descript coroner body bags.
 
Trent nodded again to Kyle as they slipped under the police line and
opened the doors to the car.
 

He
looked through the windshield at the witness, apparently finishing up with the
sketch artist, the young man looked as though he were about to puke.
 
“Poor kid,” he remarked.
 
“Bet he’ll never get that vision out of
his head.”

“Yep,”
Will agreed.
 
“Some people just
aren’t built to handle that sort of thing.”

Chapter
6

Atlanta,
Georgia

Sean
reached up and clicked the remote to the front gate of his home a few seconds before
they pulled in.
 
From the street,
it was difficult to see what lay beyond the huge brick wall and the spruce
trees behind it, which was kind of the point of the wall.
 
He swung the car into the driveway as
the gate opened completely.
 
Once
the car passed through, it began closing again.

Allyson
gazed, open-mouthed, at the property.
 
She’d not said anything since leaving the coffee shop.
 
He assumed her entire life had been
spent far away from things like the shooting in the parking lot.

Vast
collections of trees, shrubs, and flowers decorated the whole estate.
 
Giant magnolias dotted the large yard
with their dark, waxy leaves.
 
Azaleas surrounded the unmanned gatehouse, along with a few of those
long grassy plants common to golf courses and suburban neighborhoods.
 
Poplars, Bradford pears, and even some
coniferous spruce trees stood in rows in the enormous yard.
 
More hardwoods lined the driveway on
both sides.
 

“Are
those maples?”
 
Allyson broke the
silence and the awe in which she had been at the beautiful landscaping.

“Good
eye,” Sean responded, glad to see she wasn’t comatose.
 
“I planted alternating varieties so
when the fall colors peaked, there would be a more contrasting display of
color.
 
There are silver, chalk,
sugar, and my personal favorites, the crimson king maples.  The colors
have started to change, but it will be another week or two before they really
look amazing.”

“They’re
beautiful.”  Allyson continued to look around as the car sped up the
driveway.

“I’m
kind of a plant lover.
 
Worked my
way through college doing landscaping for a local family.”

“I
think it’s wonderful,” she said with a squinting glance.
 
Even though she was talking, her voice
was still distant.
 
Her mind was
probably still replaying the incident over and over.

“You’ve
killed men before, haven’t you?”
 

He
had anticipated this question and had been pondering what to tell and what not
to tell.
 
After all, she was a
reporter.

“Yes.
 
I’ve killed before.
 
But only out of
necessity—situations where it was either me or the other guy.”

“Do
you think about it a lot?
 
I mean,
ending another human’s life is pretty heavy.”

“To
tell you the truth, I don’t think about it too much.
 
I just look at it like it was something that had to be
done.
 
It’s always been survival.
 
Nothing more.  When I worked for
the government, it was just part of the job. ”

She
didn’t pursue the government topic, though she was curious. 

A
beautiful tan-colored house stood at the top of the driveway.
 
The two-story Mediterranean villa with
a Spanish-tiled roof was not large by any stretch. It could not have been more
than two-thousand square feet.
 
She
had expected a grand mansion to accompany such a palatial garden scene.
 
Instead, the home before her was
certainly nice, but it was humble in a way.

“Bought
it six years ago,” Sean started again.
 
“Since I live alone, I didn’t need a big house, but I loved the property
here.
 
I spend a lot of my free
time out here working.”

“Gardening?”

“I
enjoy the work.
 
There’s something
liberating about manual labor.”
 
His
reply was honest.

He
pulled the machine around the back of the house to a large four-door garage
that was behind and below the house.
 
Invisible from the approach up the driveway, the car house stretched out
perpendicular from the basement and seemed to be nearly half as large as the
dwelling.
 
When one of the four
wooden garage doors opened, Allyson could see there was another car in the spot
where they were about to park. Then she realized that the garage had doors on
both sides.
 
Convenient for a person
with a lot of cars to park.
 
In
Sean’s case, a few cars and many motorcycles.
 

Sean
parked the car, and they stepped out into a small collection of old and new
bikes.
 
Allyson’s gaze went past
the Nissan Maxima in front of her to at least two dozen motorcycles of varying
types.
 
There were cruisers and
sport bikes from different eras; Harley Davidson, Indian, Buell, and all of the
Japanese makers were represented.
 
A few British café style racers sat quietly together as well.
 

“Those
two are my favorite.” Sean read the fascination on her face and acknowledged
the machines with a nod.
 
“The
Norton and the Triumph.
 
I love the
raw style those bikes have.
 
No
fairings.
 
No tricked-out special
parts.
 
Just the bike and the
road.
 
The way it should be.”
 

“Do
you ride them or just collect them?”
 
           

“I’m
a rider first.
 
A collector
second.”
 
He smiled.
 
“Those guys that just collect them blow
my mind.
 
Never made a lot of sense
to me.”
 
The garage door started
closing behind them; the Maxima beeped, and then revved to life.

“Sorry
that I can’t take you for a ride on one right now, but I think it’s best if we
don’t stick around here.”

“Why? 
Won’t we be safe here?”

“I
doubt it.”
 
His reply was
blunt.
 
“My guess is the cops will
be here soon.
 
And then there is
the concern about the person following us.”

Instant
paranoia struck Allyson’s face as she turned around, trying to see out of the
garage windows.

“Don’t
freak out,” he said calmly.
 
“I
doubt we have a tail.
 
But I am
pretty sure we have a homing device on my Camaro.
 
That’s one of two reasons we’re changing cars.”

“What’s
the other reason?

“At
the coffee shop, I noticed a guy in a Lexus in the parking lot just sitting
there.
 
His windows were tinted, so
I didn’t get a good look at him.
 
At first, I thought he was just waiting to meet someone.
 
But he was still sitting there when we
left.
 
It was almost like he was
trying to look casual, even had a newspaper with him.
 
Just struck me as odd, given the bullets flying around and
all.”

“So
you think he saw the plates?”

“I
think he had already looked at them.
 
I keep a spare set of fake tags here in the shop, registered to a very
old friend.
 
They’re on the Nissan,
so I’m hoping that will buy us some time.
 
The police will come here and find my car, search my house, etc.”

“Just
a typical day for Sean Wyatt, huh?”
 
Her sarcasm was cute.

“The
cops mean well, or at least I think they do.
 
Nothing will be taken from my house.
 
I just hope things are left as they
found them.”

“You
get searched often?”
   

He
ignored the question.
 
“Don’t
worry.
 
We’re going to figure this
out, and trust me, you’ll be back in the office in no time.  But I just
killed two guys back there, and if that guy in the car has anything to do with
it, I don’t think we are on the right side of the law at the moment.  Call
it a hunch.”

His
words didn’t ease her mind much.

He
walked quickly over to the running car. “We should probably be going.
 
I’ll be glad to give you a tour of the
whole place some other time.”
 

She
was amazed that he could still flirt at a time like this. She followed him and
opened the front passenger door simultaneously with him.
 

“Promise?”
 
Her voice was playful as she slid into
the front of the car.
 
Apparently,
she had put the double homicide behind her for the moment.

He
smiled at her, careful not to show the concern in his mind.  He wasn’t
sure he trusted her.  She shows up, and then all of the sudden he’s
getting shot at.  And was her fear legitimate or an act?  He couldn’t
tell at the moment, but it was a little odd how one moment she had been
terrified and the next she was ready to hop in the car and go.  A normal
person might have tried to escape.
 

Suddenly,
she screamed at the top of her lungs.

In
the reflection of the tinted black windows, he saw a quick movement.
 

Sean’s
reaction was immediate and fluid. He dropped to his knee to avoid the swinging
elbow that was intended for the back of his neck.
 
His fist launched at the attacker’s groin, finding the
vulnerable area with a confirming groan of pain.
 

Hunched
over, the attacker, dressed in a black sweater, staggered towards his prey, who
had side-stepped quickly over to a row of garden tools.
 

The
man’s recovery was too slow.
 
Sean’s hands moved quickly, scooping up a shovel and bringing the head
of it crashing against the face of the intruder.
 
The stunned assailant crumpled into an
unconscious heap on the floor of the garage.

Sean
dropped the shovel and jumped in the car.
 
Allyson’s mouth was agape as she stared
at the scene.

“We
have to go.”
 
His voice had become
very direct.
 

“Are
you just going to leave him there?”
 

“Yeah.”

The
black Maxima sped down a different, much shorter driveway on the backside of
the property.
 
It led into
a dark, tiny forest of pines and oaks.
 
Another gate within the tree cover was already open for
them, and Sean guided the car out and onto a quiet suburban street.