Civilian Henry Feather II

 

PART II

(EIGHT MONTHS LATER)

~ 18 ~

Henry Feather was lying on his bed looking up at the ceiling in his bedroom, in the house he shared with his father, a US Senator from Maryland, and their housekeeper Flora Neeley. 

He had been back home for eight months from four years as a sniper in the US Army and, for the last few months had been working with his girlfriend and next-door neighbour Lucy Maxwell, as a writer and Lucy’s creative partner in the Baltimore-based marketing company that Lucy’s father owned. 

It was a Saturday afternoon. His father was downstairs in his study reading over a bunch of legislation which was going to be voted on when he went back to Washington. 

Henry was thinking about a lady named Missy Felder, who  had made a suggestion to him a while ago. 

Missy Felder was one of the key people in a group called Blu Fin Consulting which was the hidden hammer of the US Democratic party. They did assassinations, bombings, and other assorted acts of disruption, all designed to keep the Democrats in power in Washington.

Henry didn’t know all that at the time. He just saw Missy and Jackson as very capable people who were there, as a favor from another Senator, to help him find some lunatics who were trying to kill his father.

Before they left to go back to Richmond, Virginia where they lived, Missy extended an open invitation for Henry to come and find out more about the Blue Fin group and see if there was a way he could put his skills to work for them. Henry thanked Missy very much and filed the invitation away in the back of his brain. He then, quite by accident really, began to start working as a writer with his girlfriend, Lucy Maxwell. 

But the long and short of it was that the office work he had to do was interesting at first, then after only a few months, it began to make him feel quite claustrophobic. This, in turn, led him to explain to Lucy that he didn’t feel he was cut out for the work he was doing, which led him back to thinking about the open invitation that Missy Felder had extended to him. 

Missy’s business card was lying on his chest as he lay in his bed and stared up at the ceiling.

Over the course of the next half-hour he made up his mind to call her first thing on Monday.

Having made that decision, he got up and went downstairs to talk to his dad and then headed over to Lucy’s house to watch a playoff NBA game on TV.

~ 19 ~

The following Tuesday, Henry drove down to the address he was given in downtown Richmond, which was about a three-and-a-half-hour drive. Across the street from a low rise office building was a coffee shop, which he entered. There were only two people in the shop at the time, they were sitting at a table together. 

Henry got a coffee and walked over to the table. 

“Mr. Tuttle?” he said to the older man, who extended his hand which Henry shook. 

“Just Tuttle, son.” 

“Henry Feather.” Henry replied. 

The man next to Tuttle was casually dressed with long hair and a beard. He extended his hand and said “Damon Reese.”

Henry shook Damon’s hand and then sat down.

“Missy tells us you might be interested in joining the Blue Fin team.” Tuttle said.

“Interested is the operative word, sir.” Henry said.

Damon Reese reached down into his bag and pulled out an iPad. He played with it for a few seconds then flipped it around to Henry. He also set a digital pen down beside it.

“This is a non-disclosure agreement. Read it over and if you agree with it, sign it at the bottom.” Reese said. “Then we can talk freely.”

Henry read the non-disclosure thoroughly and didn’t see anything objectionable in it. But it was definitely iron-clad. So he picked up the pen and signed and dated it on Reese’s iPad, then gave it back to him.

“Okay,” Tuttle, said. “We’re good to go. What do you need to know?”

“Well, first of all I would like to understand what this Blue Fin Consulting group is.”

“Well, it’s a lot of things.” Tuttle said. “Mostly a problem solving organization with clients in both the private and public sectors. It’s run by a man named Phillip Ross, who is ex-NSA and his lady, Missy Felder, who I believe you already know.”

“So, problem solving. What’s that all about?”

“It’s a range of things. Mr. Ross handles the private sector work separately, which is mostly orchestrating mergers and acquisitions and partnership agreements and dissolutions. The rest of us handle the government work.”

“Which is?” Henry asked.

“Whatever needs to be done that the government doesn’t want their fingerprints on.” Tuttle said.

“So I would assume that this involves killing or Ms. Felder wouldn’t have asked me to consider joining.”

Tuttle nodded. “Yep.”

“How is the group structured?”

“Well, there’s Mr Ross, who you will meet if you’re interested in joining. He does all the planning and is the government interface. Ms Felder, who is ex-FBI and Secret Service, does scouting and works with the shooter on the mission. There’s Jackson, who you’ve also met. He started off as a shooter, then pulled back after one long mission. Jackson does mostly investigative work in his spare time, but has become a well-known photographer, with worldwide representation, which you probably also knew. He’s married to Mr Ross’s daughter, Marlena. Then there’s myself. I provide the munitions, all untraceable. I own a gun range just outside of town. Finally, there’s Damon Reese here and his partner, William Ling. Damon is in charge of all communications with a bit of hacking on the side. William is a genius financial hacker. Finally there’s the Jeep, with a hidden compartment to carry your weapon that’s so far proven to be quite foolproof.”  

“Wow, that’s quite an assortment.”

“Indeed,” Tuttle said. “At the moment, we’re in need of a sniper. Nothing in particular at this point, but you never know what’s around the next bend. Missy and Jackson were impressed with you when they went up to help you with the Iranian assholes who were after your dad. They thought you might make a good addition to the team. That’s about it.”

Henry sipped his coffee and then said. “You know I spent the last few months working with my girlfriend as a writer in her dad’s marketing company. But that got old after a lot sooner than I thought it would. I was definitely not cut out for office life.”

“You’re not the first sniper we’ve had that didn’t have a similar sort of story,” Reese said. “It’s claustrophobic as hell.”

“Yeah, it kind of is.” Henry said. Then he asked, “What about security? I mean you’re talking about pretty illegal stuff here.” Henry asked.

“Well, as long as the Dems are in power and depending on the project, we mostly have immunity, which means we are taken off any suspect lists we happen to end up on. So far no one has ever been arrested. There has been one particular FBI guy who had a special interest in us. But he’s had the riot act read to him by our Washington contact, and has pretty much backed off.” Reese said.

“So basically this group is an assassination squad.” Henry said.

“For the most part. We also take Republican donor money out of the picture, and quite a bit of it, truth be told, thanks to Damon and William.”

“How much, if I may ask?”

Damon looked at Tuttle. “Low to mid billions.”

“Shit. What do you do with it?”

“Nothing. It just sits in Nassau earning interest.” Reese replied. “It’s our retirement fund.”

Henry leaned back in his seat and took another sip of his coffee. He was thinking hard. Then he said. “What kind of money can I expect to make?” 

“Jackson will put you through the paces. But if you’re as good as he thinks you might be, probably a million per major  hit. Half a million for any necessary collateral hits. That’s been the going rate since we started.”

“So you’ve had other shooters.”

“Yeah. Four counting Jackson.” Tuttle said.

“And what happened to them?”

“Well one blew himself up. Completely unrelated to us. Jackson, of course. The third was a good shooter but very young and not a really good fit for us. He had no combat experience and I think that was the main difference. And the fourth live some where across the sea. He was in and out and did a hell of a job for us.”

“So it’s a high turnover job.” Henry said.

“Its a high pressure job. What you do with the opportunity is completely up to you.” Tuttle said in a voice that was a little more emphatic than conversational.

“Okay.” Henry said. “I’m not gonna say yes or no today. I want to think this through. It’s Tuesday. So I’ll give you an answer before the end of the week.”

Tuttle just smiled. “I was hoping you would say that.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I’ve always been leery about people who make up their minds too quickly.”

“Well it’s a big decision?” Henry said. “Will you expect me to move here?”

“Only if you want to. We have a house just a little ways south from here. It’s yours to use if you want to. We all live in Richmond.”

“Okay.”

“And just make sure you don’t talk to anyone else about this, other than your dad if you choose to. He already sort of knows who we are.”

“Roger that. But I don't think I’ll be talkin’ to him about this.”

With that, Henry got to his feet, shook hands with both men and left the coffee shop.”

Tuttle and Damon sat back down. 

“What do you think?” Damon asked. 

“I think he’s a slightly younger version of Jackson.” Tuttle replied. He then picked up his phone and called Phillip Ross. “We’ll know by Friday. But he looks good so far.” Tuttle said.

~ 20 ~

All the way back home and for the next two days, Henry thought a lot about what he was getting into. He knew he had the mental capability and the skills to do the job. He also knew what a political mess the country could be in if anyone like the last president ever got re-elected. So it was probably a job that needed doing.  And that if he could contribute to helping out the current government, which he knew to be much better than the alternative, that would definitely be a good thing.

The only thing he worried about was getting into a situation with the law where, he might have to kill someone who wasn’t the real enemy. That kind of bothered him. But as he thought it through it bothered him less and less. 

Did that mean he was psychotic? His shooting instructor at West Point told him that there was a touch of the psychopath in everyone, but that snipers had maybe just a little bit more. He accepted that. He also accepted that the everyday world had made him feel bored and uncomfortable. Maybe he could get over that, but for what? Contentment, acceptance of the status quo, a normal life? He had no idea what a normal life was like. And on top of that, he had no desire to find out.

By the time he pulled into his driveway, he had already made up his mind and was thinking about what he would take with him when he headed to Richmond.

He had decided not to tell his dad about the offer that was on the table for fear his dad would try and talk him out of it. 

So three mornings later,  he called the number Tuttle had given him.

“Tuttle here.”

“Good morning Tuttle, this is Henry.”

“Morning, Henry.”

“So here’s the thing. I’m not prepared to move to Richmond just yet.”

“That’s OK. The house and the car are there for you to use when we need you. Depending on the project it may take four or five days, or even a week between events. So you can either stay there or at home, whatever suits you.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“I’m gonna get hold of Mr. Ross and we’ll set up a meeting.” Tuttle said.

“Fine with me, sir.”

“Welcome aboard, son. I’ll text you the address, the time  and the passcode for the safe house lock, just so you have it.” 

“Thanks, I’ll wait to hear from you.”

Henry disconnected and leaned back in his chair. His computer was open in front of him. He had been working for the past few weeks tightening up his journal, seeing if there was a book in there somewhere. But he figured he would not be able to write about any of this activity.

The text came through within half an hour. The time was set for Saturday afternoon. It would be at Mr. Ross’s house, the address of which was included with the text.

~ 21 ~

Henry was raised in a wealthy household by a father who was very rich before he got into politics, so the magnitude of Phillip Ross’s house on the north side of Richmond wasn’t
intimidating to him at all. There were five cars parked in the driveway with plenty of room for a couple more. It was a beautiful day and he assumed everyone would be outside, so he walked around to the back of the house. Sure enough, they were all sitting there. There was Tuttle, Jackson, Missy, Damon Reese and an oriental-looking man he had never seen and another older man, whom he assumed was Phillip Ross. When Tuttle spotted him, he got to his feet. 

“Come on in, son.” He said. “I assume you know now everyone here, except Mr. Ross and I guess young William Ling.” 

William just nodded and raised a hand to say hello.

Ross walked forward and shook Henry’s hand. “Phillip Ross. Good to meet you, Henry.”

“Thank you sir. Quite a gathering you’ve got here.”

“Come and have a seat. There’s some beer in the cooler if you like.”

Henry walked to the cooler, which was on a smaller side table and took a beer. He went back to the table and greeted Missy and Jackson Lyall.”

Jackson got to his feet and shook Henry’s hand. “Good to see you again, Henry.” he said. 

“Same here.” Henry replied.

Henry sat down and took a swig of his beer. “He looked around the table not quite sure what to think or when anything would happen.

“You know, Henry,” Missy said. “I was just thinking about you the other day, wondering if you’d lost interest or not.”

“Believe it or not I went to work in my girlfriend’s marketing company. That lasted all of about four months before I started feeling claustrophobic as hell. So here I am loaded for bear, so to speak.”

“Well, this is all of us including our computer guys.” Ross said. “So if you have any more questions, this is the chance for you to ask them. You’re non-disclosured up, so everything you hear will be the unvarnished truth.”

“My question is for you, sir.” Henry said to Ross. “I’m curious about how you ended up doing this.”

“Well. I was in the intelligence service, NSA to be precise for about twenty years.” Ross said. “Then about eight years ago I was approached by a senior Democratic Senator. He sat me down and told me that he was leery of the direction the Republican party was taking. He saw a lot of trouble on the horizon. Then he talked about having a project group that could, more or less balances the scales.

“The idea appealed to me. The money appealed to me as well, so I put in my papers and retired from the NSA and formed this group. It took about two years to come together completely. At first, it was just Tuttle and myself. Tuttle found us our first shooter, who worked with us for two years, before literally blowing himself up, not related to what he was doing for us. Tuttle then recruited Damon Reese, whom you have met and Damon recruited William Ling who specializes in financial hacking. I heard about Missy a few days after she left the Secret Service about five years ago now. Then Tuttle found Jackson. After Jackson, he found another shooter. But he was very young and had no military experience. He did a great job, but he wasn’t built for the game. And now Missy and Jackson have found you. We had another shooter lined up, but he was from Ukraine and left the US to fight for his country. That’s the long and short of it.”

“Okay well, that’s all I needed to know.” Henry said.

‘So what about you, Henry?” Ross asked.

 “I’ve been back for almost a year now and I couldn’t help but notice how pronounced the division is in the country. I mean I left about a year before President Dodge was elected, and I spent three and a half years in north and central Africa so I can spot a political mess a mile off. If the stuff this group does can help, even just a little, to clean things up, then I’m all for it.”

“Well, that’s wonderful Henry.” Ross said. “And the timing couldn’t have been better. Because just this morning I got a call from my contact in DC. We’re getting together tomorrow and he’s going to brief me on a new project.”

“Did he give you any idea what it would be about? Or is that a stupid question?” Henry asked.

“No, it’s a good question.” But we never talk specifics on the phone. You can never tell who’s listening. He basically just invited me over for brunch, which is one of our codes, and it’s also brunch.”

“So how quickly does a project start after you’ve been briefed.” Henry asked.

“Depends on the project.” Ross said. “But if it’s not an emergency, I like to take a few days with Missy and plan things out. The rule is not to rush if you don’t have to. That way you keep all your bases covered everybody out of harm’s way.”

“I get it.” Henry said.

“Good.” Ross said. “I understand you want to keep living at home until you get a better feel for things. But the little house is always available to you. Also before each mission, Damon Reese gives us all special cell phones that are disconnected from any network, so we can all talk freely.” Damon reached into his bag and pulled out several older black flip phones and chargers and handed one to everybody.

“Just tap the names of whoever you want to talk to, and it will connect you.’ Damon said. “It’s sat-based, so distance is not an issue. It’s a closed-circuit network…not exactly legal, but then neither is the work we do.”

“Okay. That’s clever.” Henry said. “Oh yeah, I did have one more question. Tuttle told me there’s some FBI guy who’s very suspicious. What the deal with him?”

Phillip Ross took a deep breath.”Yeah, his name is Hollis Keene. He’s based in Atlanta. Not exactly sure how he honed in on us. But he did and it was a bit of a hassle for a while. But the FBI, you know, like any law enforcement group, needs evidence and we simply don’t leave any.”

“The hardware you will use has had the numbers burned off and the bullets are all hand-made and built to disintegrate after contact. It’s pretty simple, but 100% effective.” Tuttle said.

For the next hour Jackson and Henry told war stories and then it was time for Henry to hit the road.

~ 22 ~

Three days later, Henry was back in Richmond with his car, a new Lexus, filled with clothing, his computer, and a couple of lamps. He had decided that the four-hour drive back to Richmond from home wasn’t worth the time and took and the gas it wasted. 

He had told his dad he was feeling a little restless so he thought he would drive down to Florida for a few weeks and visit some old army buddies.

He found the house down south of West Broad Street, and spent the next half hour emptying his car. There was a fairly new Jeep parked in the driveway. The keys for it were on a hook in the kitchen near the back door.

After he had everything in the house, he walked around and had a look at it. The furniture was all pretty cozy but rather old looking. But the bed in the master bedroom was comfortable and the kitchen was fully equipped. 

He was making a shortlist of what he wanted to pick up food-wise when his closed-circuit phone rang. It was Jackson.

“Hey Jackson.”

“So you decided to move down after all.” Jackson said.

“Yeah, the driving very quickly got to be a pain in the ass.”

“Let me take you out to dinner. Do you like ribs?”

“Who doesn’t like ribs?”

“OK there’s a place on West Broad called Rudy’s. Best ribs in the state. I‘ll meet you there in an hour.”

“Okay.”

“How do you like the house?”

“It’s umm, quaint.”

“That’s a good word for it. I’ll see you in an hour. Just drive up to West Broad and turn right, it’s about three blocks along.”

“Roger that.”

They disconnected and Henry spent half an hour putting his stuff away and finishing his grocery list. Then he grabbed a quick shower and headed off to meet up with Jackson.

Jackson was already there, sitting at a table with his laptop opened and a bottle of Coors Light beside him. The restaurant was about half full. It had a short bar with four stools at the back by the kitchen. Off to the side was an area with video games and a pool table. Henry noticed that most of the people eating looked to be a lot older than him. He shook hands with Jackson and sat down. A few seconds later a good-looking woman showed up at the table.

“Josie, this is Henry. Henry this is Josie.”

“You want a beer there, Henry?” Josie said.

“You read my mind, ma’am.”

“Josie just smiled. “You soldiers are all so polite.” And she scooted off after dropping menus on the table before she left.

“The ribs here are the best. But everything else is damn good too.” Jackson said as he pointed to the bar. “The older guy behind the bar, that’s Rudy. Vietnam vet and all round good guy.”

“Sounds like I don’t need to know anything more about where to eat around here.” Henry said.

“First meal I had when I got here a few years back was right here. We haven’t been anywhere else since.”

“So where are you from, you know, originally?”

“Louisiana, small town you never heard of.”

“So what brought you here?”

I did two tours, as I told you - Afghanistan and Middle East then decided that was enough. So believe it or not, I threw a dart over my shoulder at a map of the US and it stuck here.”

“For real?”

“Yessirree. Best move I ever made. Met my wife here and she got me into the photo art business big time.”

“Tuttle said you only did one mission for the group.?”

“Yeah, it had five parts and that fuckin’ FBI guy was on us. How he figured it out, I have no idea.”

“And now you’re married to Mr Ross’s daughter.” Henry said.

“Yep. And happier than a pig in slop.”

Just then Josie came back to the table and put down Henry’s beer. 

“We’ll both be havin’ the ribs Josie.”

“You got it Jackson.” Josie said.

While they were waiting, Jackson took Henry up to the bar and introduced him to Rudy.

“Good to meet you son.” Rudy said.

“Same here sir.”

“Army or marines?” Rudy asked

“Army sir, had my own little sniper squad in Africa.”

“Africa?”

“Yeah, it was a terrorist shooting gallery.”

“I’ll bet.” Rudy said.

“Henry’s gonna be around for a while on and off, so this ain’t the last you’ll see of him.”

“No sir, it’s not. I’ve been told these are the world’s best ribs.”

“Well, you got that right.” Rudy said. He then held out his hand as he saw Josie walking by with their orders. “Good to meet you son.”

Henry shook hands with Rudy then they went back to their table and dug in.

They talked for about half an hour or so while they were eating. Jackson only gave him one bit of advice. “Never forget, anybody you’re shooting at, they are the scum of the earth. Sad to say there’s no shortage here in the US.”

“I’ll bear that in mind.”

“You do they and it will be very good for your mental health.”

~ 23 ~

The next day Jackson came by and he and Henry, driving the Jeep headed out to Tuttle’s gun range. They stopped and picked up some cantaloupes along the way. They backed the Jeep up to the rear door and went inside. 

Sitting on the table was a beautiful Accuracy International AX150. A 50 calibre long gun, with a silencer attached. Beside it were 6 five-shot clips, four of which were marked with an X.

Tuttle was out front with a customer. So Jackson said, “The gun you were using in Africa was a lot lighter than this baby. But it’s very well balanced and doesn’t kick anywhere near as much as you think it might just looking at it. Pick it up.”

Henry picked the gun up and pointed it at the side wall of the building. It had a beautiful Zeiss scope. He could feel the weight of it but also the balance made it feel lighter when he was holding it in a firing position.

“This is deadly accurate up to about 1200 yards.’ Jackson said. “Which is how you’ll be getting away clean. No bad guy the planet has security out that far. And the best part of all is that nobody walks away from gettin’ hit by one of these rounds. They’ll either check out instantly or bleed out quickly. So you’ve got a whole body to shoot at.”

Henry had done a lot of arm and upper body work in school, in the army and at home, so the gun actually didn’t feel all that heavy to him. it was just longer but so beautifully balanced, he figured he’d get used to it quickly.

“It’s a beautiful piece of hardware.”

 “It most certainly is.”

“Easy to clean?”

“Oh yeah. Il show you all that once we’ve blown away some melons.”

Jackson went out and talked to Tuttle for a second then came back. 

He grabbed the x-marked clips and the gun. They stashed it all in the back compartment, in between half a dozen small sandbags that would keep the gun from sliding around. They drove out to the highway and up about three miles and then turned off. After about 30 seconds, they came to a long straight stretch of road. 

They stopped and set up three tripods with the melons taped to the tops, then drove back, about 1000 yards, according to Jackson’s range finder. 

Jackson turned the Jeep sideways and fastened the bi-pod to the gun. Using the hood of the Jeep with the bi-pod extended allowed Henry to stand fairly straight. They spent the next fifteen minutes or so shooting at the melons. Jackson was pleasantly surprised at just how quickly Henry figured out the gun and was able to demolish the melons within two cartridges worth of shooting.

“And you’ve never used a fifty cal before?” Jackson asked.

“Oh, I’d remember that for sure. What a beautiful weapon.”

“Served me well as I’m sure it will you.” Jackson. “We’ll go back to Tuttle’s and get her cleaned up, then you’ll be good to go, whenever that is.”

They headed back to the gun range. Jackson showed Henry how to clean the gun. While they were gone Tuttle had gotten out the FNX pistol with three loaded clips and a box of bullets as well as a cleaning kit and a small box of mercury/magnesium tipped rounds for the rifle  They then put everything into the gun compartment in the back of the Jeep and went back inside.

They sat down with Tuttle at a table in the front of the shop. There were half a dozen or so people shooting but the building they were in was almost completely soundproof.

“You can tell Mr. Ross that we are good to go,” Jackson said. 

“Will do.” Tuttle said. And then he looked at Henry. “And you my friend, need to open an offshore account. I don’t care where, just as long as you give me the deposit code. I will be transferring your money into it. We don’t deal in cash and we try and keep away from anything in the US. Too many nosey people hangin’ around.”

“Believe it or not, I actually know how to do that. ‘Cause I was thinking the same thing.”

“Jackson, thanks for your help, again.” Tuttle said.

“My pleasure Tut. It’s the least I can do.”

“You’ve done way more than your share. The president owes you her life. I’d say that was above and beyond.”

“Wait. Was that the thing that happened in Boston?” Henry asked.

Jackson nodded.

“I read about that. Never saw a mention of your name.”

“Good.”

“Good? That kinda makes you a national hero.”

“Yeah and also kinda paints a big bullseye on your back. Sometimes heroics aren’t all they’re cracked up to be, Henry.”

Henry thought about that for a bit. “Yeah, I guess you’re right about that.”

Jackson nodded. Then got up. “Okay. That’s it, Tut. Let’s go Henry. The tutorial is done.”

“I’ll get that banking stuff together ASAP.” Henry said to Tuttle.

“Just text me the number on your closed circuit phone.” Tuttle said. 

“Will do.”

Forty-five minutes later, Jackson was shaking hands with Henry and hopping into his own car, leaving Henry with a big gun in the back of his Jeep and a job to do just as soon as the logistics were figured out.

~ 24 ~

Senator Rolland Winters was sitting at his desk in his study in his big house on the south side of Richmond, when his wife, Millie, showed Phillip Ross in. 

The Senator got up and the two men shook hands warmly. Winters then walked over to the liquor cabinet and poured out two tumblers of Glenfiddich for them. 

“So how are things working out these days, Phil?” Winters asked.

“A lot of small projects, a few big ones. The usual I suppose. Damocles is back at full strength personnel-wise. And it’s always nice to hear from you, sir. ”

“Yeah. Well this one is a doozy.”

“Do tell.”

Winters sat down behind his desk and Ross took a seat  directly across from him. They clinked their glasses and took sips of their scotch.”

“There’s a guy. Filthy rich industrialist. Elmore Bishop. Has a lot of government contracts.”

“There are a few of those, aren’t there?”

“Yeah, but this guy, he’s a little different. Wants to use his influence to get control of the Republican party. And with balance of seats in the senate a little too close for comfort and with the pair of turncoats we have on our side, it’s gettin’ tougher and tougher to keep things moving in a positive direction.”

“So are we talking about a Trifecta?”

“Maybe, but I think that taking out the uber-rich shit disturber will bring damn near everything in line and we can get back to business as usual.”

Winters pushed a thin file folder over Ross’s side of the big desk.

“This Bishop, he’s got his fingers in a lot of pies, so in addition to being a pest in DC he does a lot of running around putting out fires in his organization. Since he is an asshole with more money than brains, there are always a lot of fires to be put out.”

Ross flipped through the file. He knew a fair bit about this guy, because he was all over the news. A real egomaniac. It would be a genuine public service to take him out.

“Is he paranoid at all, meaning does he have a lot of protection?”

“No. Like most gazillionaires, he feels kind of invincible. He travels with one guy. An old friend who also happens to be an ex-soldier in his home country’s army. Racist as they come because his main job was killing black insurrectionists. No, the tricky part is that he jumps around a lot. His main protection is that he doesn’t disclose his schedule.”

“But he must have a home somewhere.”

“Yeah, it’s all in the file, and that’s probably the best place to nail him. But it’s gonna require the patience of Job to wait him out.”

“If that’s what it takes.” Ross said.

“He’s gotten next to the new Republican candidate, and with the election only a year off, he’s already starting to throw money around to build this guy’s persona.”

“Does he have a constituency? The last guy had a bunch of fucked up rednecks and a huge assortment of other disgruntled a-holes.”

“He’s hoping to pick up all of them. He’s cut from the same cloth and Lord knows if you make enough promises to these idiots, they’ll get behind him.”

“Does he have a shot at the job? Ross asked.

“I don’t think so, but what he does have a shot at is
re-unifying the Republicans in DC and that’s the big concern. But take away Bishop’s big-time funding and his constant nosiness in DC and it will take the Republicans that much longer to rebuild.”

“So what about your turncoats?”

“I’m not sure what to do about them. All depends on how it goes with the money. Long and short is that if we take this guy out of the picture, we slow down the whole process on the Republican side of things. As you know, they’re having real funding challenges, But this Bishop, he’s just pouring his bucks into the candidate. It would be nice to pick up a couple of seats in both houses, which we figure we can do if the propaganda is dialled down.”

They talked for another twenty minutes or so. Winters was delighted to hear that Marlena was pregnant and that her husband was building himself a strong international reputation in the photography business.  

Winters, who was about ten years older than Ross, had one son: an ex-air force fighter pilot, who was currently in Israel training their fighter pilots, and helping to keep the Middle East from blowing up into a Russia/Ukraine situation. 

“Some days, you know, Phil. I wake up and feel like the world is just about ready to crack into a million pieces.”

“I know what you mean, Senator.”

“You’re one of the guys with the glue gun. Let’s use it to get rid of this big money threat and we’ll all feel a little better about things.”

“Budget?”

“Five million for the big kahuna. Another five for the turncoats, if it comes to that.”

“Fair enough.” Ross got to his feet and picked up the file with him. “I’ll keep you posted Rolland.”

“Go get’em Phil.”

Ross left the house after taking the time to give Millie Winters a hug.

~ 25 ~

 

Very few people on the planet knew the location of Bishop’s central Texas retreat, and all of them were generously bribed into secrecy. The way Senator Winters found out about it was through the initiative of one of the Senate Pages who had, quite by accident, overheard Bishop talking about it to the Congressman the Republicans were putting up for the presidential nomination.

He quietly and discreetly passed the information along to Winters, because he hated the Republicans as much as anyone in the political sphere with any common sense. Winters rewarded the Page by pulling the strings to have him promoted to a more prestigious position, for which the Page, a young man named Charlie Obermann, was eternally grateful. 

Winters then sent his newly minted legislative assistant out to Dulles airport to photograph Bishop’s private jet, which the grateful Charlie was only too happy to do.

After Phillip Ross’s meeting with Senator Winters, Ross went back to his house and sat down to figure out the things he would need to know about Bishop to be able to somehow track him. 

As he looked though the file, it became obvious that it had occurred to the Senator that while Bishop was very secretive about his comings and goings, one of the things he could not control was the aviation regulation that required Bishop’s pilot to file flight plans. This flight history would give Missy and Henry a better fix on when to head down to Texas.

The meeting was mid-morning three days later. Everyone was on hand. When they were all seated around the table in the backyard and Damon had scanned the area to make sure it was clean, Ross handed out folders containing all the pertinent information.

“Okay, this project is in two parts. The first part is a definite, the second will just be for Damon and William to start with. We’ll see how that plays out.

“On the first page of your file you’ll see a picture of a man you will recognize. He needs to be gone, and the sooner the better, because he is already influencing political decision making and we can only assume that he’s just getting started.

“We thought we put the fear of God into a lot of the big time Republican supporters after we took out the last billionaire. But some people obviously didn’t get the message.

“The thing with this guy is that he’s kind of elusive. He’s involved with so many different things that it’s hard to track his movements. What we now know for sure, thanks to Damon’s hacking expertise with the US postal service, is that he has a house just north of Beaumont Texas. It’s actually not a very big house for a guy with his kind of wealth, but it is on its own 14 acre estate, and kind of isolated, which is good for us. And we also, thanks to Damon have a very fairy good idea of when he will be at this location.

Damon chuckled. Everybody looked at him. “I can’t take all the credit.” he said. “Whoever had the presence of mind to go and photograph his jet made my job dead easy, because the FAA network has more holes in it than a spaghetti strainer. I can track his movements, even map his flight history and we can figure out his pattern if there is one. Then, a couple days before he’s due to land near Beaumont, you guys can head out and get set up.”

“So we’re good to go on that front. He also has a pool there and we know he swims for exercise. What we don’t know is what level of protection the guy has when he’s at home. So we have to check that out ahead of time, which will mean a day or two of surveillance for Henry and Missy.”

He then turned to Henry. “This is going to test your
patience more than anything, Henry. It may take a couple of days. And you have to be prepared for both a day or night shot.”

“Roger that, sir.”

“Missy. You need to check out motels in the area. Don’t want you guys staying in the same place for two nights running.”

Missy just nodded.

Then Ross turned to Damon Reese and William Ling. “Damon, after we get the flight schedule you need to hack his correspondence. Evidently, he sends a lot of texts. See if you can give Missy and Henry any more timing details. William, I need you to see if you can get into one of his off-shore accounts and if you can, move as much money as possible. This will piss him off and throw him off balance. It will also tire him out and maybe get him to head home to relax. So that’s it for job one.”

Finally Ross turned to Jackson and Tuttle. “When you both have time, I’d like you two to scope out these two turncoat Dems. Their DC addresses are in your deck. Go through their places in DC and see what you can find that we can use against them. I’m not crazy about doing politicians. I’d much rather find out what’s being used to coerce them into siding with the Republicans. This is a good time because Congress is in recess and they’ll both be back in their home states.”

“William, if Jackson and Tuttle find any banking info, I need you to check it out for large regular deposits, If you see them, take the money.”

William just nodded.

“Okay.” Jackson said. “What happens if they show up?”

“Well, I guess you’ll have to take them out. Let’s just hope that doesn’t happen.”

“Roger that.” Jackson said. “I’ve got some time over the next couple of weeks.”

“I’ll close up the range for a week or so. It’s a little hot for shooting anyway.” Tuttle said. 

“Good. Then we’re all set. Just be safe out there. If you feel the walls closing in, even a little, get the hell out. We can always come back another time.”

After the meeting broke up. Missy came over to sit with Henry. 

“Okay, so, we’re going to Texas so you need to get yourself  some Texas duds. Your jeans are fine, but you’ll probably need a couple of denim shirts and a hat. I’ll go shopping with you, if you like.”

“That would be great.”

“Good. So let’s go.”

“Lead the way Missy.”

Missy kissed Ross on the cheek. “We’re gonna go get Henry outfitted for the Lone Star State.”

“Okay. I’m gonna go into the office for a bit and clean up some stuff.”

“I’ll see you at dinner.” Missy said.

Missy and Henry took off together. On their way to the mall, Missy filled him in on how things would work.
 “We’ll do one day of surveillance. That should be all we need. On the second day we’re gonna find a place, where you can wait comfortably, and I can be no more than a couple hundred yards away in the Jeep. When you’re done, you pick up your ejected shell casings and hightail it back to the truck. The back hatch will be open and you can just lay the gun in and close everything up. We can be out of there in thirty seconds. The best thing about the fifty-cal gun is that it unless you hit absolute dead-centre mass, it will blow the victim sideways and anybody who is close by will have a hard time figuring exactly which direction the shot came from. Most people would assume that it came from the direction where the body landed but even if they’re off by even 10 degrees, that’s a huge time advantage for us.”

“Wow, you’ve got this down to a science, Missy.”

“Yeah, well, you kinda pick this up as you go. Jackson and I figured out a lot of stuff on our excursions”

“I have to admit, I’m a little nervous.” Henry said.

“A little nervous is a good thing. Keeps you thinking. And this is a thinking man’s game.”

~ 26 ~

The billionaire in question, Elmore Bishop, owned a number of military and private sector equipment manufacturing companies, many of which did business with the government. He also owned a ton of blue-chip stocks. Being a hustler and a go-getter, he quickly realized that everything in America could be bought with enough money. Politicians, other businesses, fanatical loyalty, even outstanding female companionship.

Bishop lived primarily on his plane, a refurbished 727, mainly because he spent a lot of time going from one business to another putting out fires, replacing burned-out executives and looking for new businesses to buy. 

He was rumoured to be the richest man in America, with an estimated worth in the area of $400 billion. Lately, he had attached himself to the current frontrunner in the race for the Republican presidential nomination and was propping up his campaign with millions of dollars. This gave him inside access and more influence in the political system than any private citizen had a right to. 

Bishop’s bricks-and-mortar home was a relatively modest estate in the woodlands north and a bit east of Beaumont, Texas. His estate was about 14 acres, which consisted of a stylishly modern house with windows all around and a ring of evergreens tightly spaced around the borders of his property. This had been done about fifteen years earlier and the trees had grown into a dense prickly wall. Around the inside of the tree-line he had installed a four foot high electric fence that packed a whopping 100,000 volt charge to anyone coming into contact with it. So he felt relatively safe, not so much from assassination but from anyone in the press who might want to do some sort of tacky ‘lifestyles of the rich and famous’ type photography. 

He had no enemies that he knew of because while he may have been as avaricious as a latter day Ebenezer Scrooge, his business dealings were all cordial, generous and above board. But once he took over a business, he then started to read the riot act to everyone and suddenly the businesses went from whatever they were to a modern-day slave ships, because beneath his cordial exterior, Bishop was a monster. But Bishop was a true elitist and would never in a million years bring himself to believe that any of his ‘worker bees’ as he called them, would plot to do him harm. 

Bishop’s only protection came in the form of an ex-army captain named Trevor Mason, who had been friends with Bishop for most of his life. Mason’s family were quite a bit less well off than Bishop’s, but because Bishop liked having his friend and protector around, Bishop persuaded his father to pay for Mason’s tuition to the private school he went to. After his military duty Mason rejoined Bishop on his climb to the top of the business world as friend, protector and sometimes advisor. The two men shared the same cynical world view and were determined to grapple with and hold onto as much power as they possibly could.

Bishop was about fifty-six, and the years of flying and fighting and debating and no small amount of drinking and womanizing were beginning to take their toll on him as he found himself in progressively greater need of days off, which hadn’t been the case up until he hit his fifties.

He had kept himself fit through a lot of walking instead of riding in limos or taking elevators and when he was home, he swam fifty or sixty lengths of his pool a couple times a day. He ate sensibly and as a result was quite trim, which was a real advantage because he had pretty much all his energy at his disposal whenever he needed it. 

Over the last few years, Bishop had become interested in US politics. At first, it was basically to influence policies that made sure his companies were paying the very least amount of tax possible.  But when he realized how dumb most politicians and voters were, his interest had grown into an obsession with controlling the government by getting next to and lavishing support on the presumptive frontrunner for the Republican party. 

Over the years, his ego had grown to the point where he really believed himself to have the makings of a kingmaker. And the most malleable politicians all seemed to be Republicans, so that was where he staked his claim.  

As far and away the largest donor the Republicans had, he soon found himself in a position to influence legislation, which is what he did. His belief was that the government was spending an excessive amount of tax dollars on programs to prop up people with no real ambition, not to mention the masses of immigrants that flowed into the country from the south. So he started advocating shifting those dollars into defence spending and border protection which is where the bulk of his businesses resided.

This very quickly became a problem for the Democrats. Interference at this level by rich private citizens was unheard of in modern-day America. But from the looks of things, it seemed that it was being welcomed by the Republican candidate, likely in return for the millions that were going into his campaign budget. And it was precisely that which caused Senator Winters to reach out to the Blue Fin Group for help.

~ 27 ~

It only took Damon Reese about twenty minutes to find and download the flight paths of Bishop’s plane for the past two years. Once he had it, he texted the file to Phillip Ross who studied it carefully. 

Ross’s NSA background came in very handy when trying to figure out puzzles. Starting at the point two years earlier, he slowly scanned down the list, visualizing the flight of Bishop’s plane from place to place. Just past the beginning of the second year, he began to see the pattern plus a definite increase in the frequency of his stays at his home base in Texas. Mostly they were after trips from Washington. Ross could understand that. Politicians had always worn him out as well.

Perhaps Bishop had simply become more adept at dealing with his companies online and by phone and therefore felt less need to be on site. Or perhaps his age was catching up with him. That and a lot of sleeping in spurts on planes and constant travel. It didn’t really matter much what the reason was, the good news was that he was now staying home for around three to five days, every time his plane took him there. 

He called Damon and they talked about it for a bit. Damon had been studying the flight patterns as well and estimated that there was an eight to ten-day flurry of activity between the three to five-day home periods. So they both concluded that somewhere around the sixth or seventh day of activity Missy and Henry could head down and find themselves a setup. The good thing was that the only other activity at the house was that once a week more or less, someone would come and cut the lawn in the acres around the house. Damon had picked up that activity quite accidentally from a trip to Google Earth. 

 They left it that Missy and Henry would get on the road when he thought it would be about three days before Bishop’s arrival. That would give them two days to get down there and another two days to find the ideal location to execute the kill. 

Before Ross disconnected with Damon Reese, he asked about how William Ling was making out. Damon replied that it was a bit of a challenge, but that William had many tricks up his sleeve and he felt optimistic.

As fate would have it, two hours later William found the right doorway to one of Bishop’s largest hidden accounts. Damon immediately called Ross. Ross told them to keep it under their hat until Missy and Henry were set up and then pull the plug. William figured he could syphon off all of the fourteen plus billion that was in the account. And the timing would hopefully have him at home and pissed off.

After Ross disconnected, he leaned back in his chair and reflected on just how much of this highly educated guesswork was supposition.

Two days later Damon called Missy in the late afternoon and told her and Henry take off for Texas the next morning. He texted Missy a map of exactly where Bishop’s property was located. 

So off they went, around mid-morning of the following day. They drove straight through to Nashville, had a great steak dinner and shared a motel room. They were careful to keep Henry as invisible as possible to the motel clerk. 

The next day, around four in the afternoon they arrived in Beaumont. Missy checked them into another motel, then they went had some dinner. Afterward, they took a drive out east of the city and came to the road that led into Bishop’s estate. 

They drove past and turned up a side road that ran along the north wall of the property. They could see nothing of the house itself because the evergreens were so dense that Henry would have to be right up against them to be able to see through. Missy turned at the next crossroad, which was which was nothing more than a one-lane dirt track that ran east along the property line. She stopped a few hundred yards in and Henry got out and made his way through the woods to the evergreens. He had his scope with a built-in rangefinder with him and through the branches he was able to see the entire rear end of the house. There was a slightly elevated deck that was shaded with an artsy-looking green canvas awning. In front of that was the pool, which looked to be rectangular and fairly large, with some lounge chairs along one side. There was no diving board, just a railing in the corner closest to the deck, which Henry assumed were where the steps to the pool were located. He assessed the field of vision as excellent and the distance, about 620 yards, which was ideal. He also noticed that both Bishop and Trevor Mason were sitting on the deck, drinking beer. Mason was reading a book while Bishop stared into his computer. 

Henry shuffled along the evergreens to get a slightly better angle and then called Missy. “I think this is the spot. I’m coming back to the Jeep right now so pop the hatch and time me … go.

Henry walked quickly but carefully back to the car, slipped the scope into the compartment, pushed it closed and covered it then shut the hatch and got into the car. 

Forty-seven seconds give or take. That’s pretty good.” Missy said.

“They were there, by the way.” Henry said.

“They were? That’s weird.” 

“They must have skipped a stop on their usual route.”

“Looks like.” Missy said. And she dropped the car into gear. It took her a little less than a minute to get to the main road. They headed back to town, watched some TV and then turned in. Missy called Ross and told her they were good to go. They agreed on doing it in the morning which would give them a lot of daylight to put between themselves and the shoot site.

The next morning they were up early. They skipped breakfast, which they decided would be brunch or lunch on the road in Louisiana.

It was a warm muggy day, but mosquito season had passed so the woods were relatively bug-free and dense enough to be a little cooler. Henry assembled the gun fastening the silencer and the site and loading the clip. He put another clip in his bag then closed the hatch and walked into the woods. He chatted to Missy on his phone while he walked.

“Let’s hope they swim together, I could take them both dead on.”

“Take’em both anyway you can, Henry.”

“Roger that.”

Henry found the tree he had marked the day before.

He gently laid his rifle onto a fairly thick branch that was about shoulder-high. He took a bottle of water out of the shoulder bag he was carrying and took a long slug.

“Did Mr Ross tell you how much money William had been able to get out of his account?” 

“Un huh. A little over fourteen billion.”

“Wow.”

“Wow is right.”

About an hour later, Henry saw through his sight that there was some activity in the back room of the house which he assumed was the kitchen. It went on for a few minutes. 

Suddenly, Bishop, holding a cell phone and dressed in a pair of swimming trunks, slammed out onto the deck. Henry could hear him screaming from where he was.

“Oh oh. I think he just found out about the money.” Henry said.

He jacked a bullet into the chamber of his rifle.

On the deck, Bishop threw the phone down on the table. Henry could hear it clatter as it broke. Then Mason walked out the door. Bishop had his back to Henry. Mason grabbed Bishop to try and calm him down. 

It was at that exact moment that Henry took the shot. Three quarters of a second later, both men slammed into the sliding screen and went down in a heap.

Henry was stunned. 

“Henry are you there? Are you there?”

“Yeah, sorry Missy. I kinda freaked myself out.”

“Is it done?”

“Yeah. I got them both with one bullet.”

“Missy chuckled. “Okay then. Pick up your brass and get your ass back here.”

Henry snapped out of it quickly. He found the casing and dropped it into his shoulder bag, then trotted on back to the Jeep. He removed the warm silencer with a rag, then stashed the gun and silencer, closed up the compartment and then Missy shut the rear gate of the Jeep from inside. Henry got in and they took off.

Once they were clear and on the highway heading toward Louisiana, Missy said. “You look pretty dazed, my friend.”

“Yeah. well how often do you get a perfect twofer.”

“So how did that come about?” 

“Well, Bishop came out on the deck with a cell phone. He was screamin’ at somebody.”

“Probably his Barbados banker.” Missy said.

“Yeah. Then he slammed the phone into the table and the other guy…”

“Mason.”

“Yeah. He came out and grabbed Bishop by the shoulders trying to calm him down. That’s when I took the shot and they both blew into the screen door.”

“That’s some shootin’, Henry.”

Henry pushed his hair back and shivered. “Yeah. I guess so.”

They made it to Jackson, Mississippi in about four and a half hours, and found a nice place to have a late lunch. Before they headed north Missy called Phillip Ross. “You’re not gonna believe this.” Then she told him the story. “Tell Jackson. He’ll really appreciate it.”

After lunch they headed north and got into Nashville at around 9:30 that evening. They had picked up some sandwiches along the way. Missy called Ross again from their motel room. 

“We haven’t heard anything on the radio or TV. We’re gonna spend the night in here Nashville and be back tomorrow by dinnertime…Sure. That sounds great. I’ll keep you posted.”

“We’re gonna have dinner at Rudy’s, once we get back tomorrow.” Missy said, after she disconnected from Ross.

“Sounds like a plan.” Henry said. But even after three hours and a couple hundred miles he was still shaking like a leaf.”
“That’ll wear off.” Missy said. And it won’t come back either. Because once you see the political ramifications of this, you’ll feel like a real patriot.”

“I hope so, Missy.”

“No sweat. You dun good, Henry.”

~ 28 ~

The bodies of Bishop and Mason were discovered two days later. when the lawn-cutting guy, Darius Bolton, knocked on the front door and getting no reply went around the back. He immediately called the Beaumont PD and a squad car was dispatched. They were greeted by Bolton at the front of the house. 

“They’re out back with big fuckin’ holes in’em.” Bolton said. “I didn’t touch anything.”

The two cops, Pierce Jamison and Elroy Timms, walked around the back and saw the two bodies. Flies were everywhere around the corpses and there was blood splatter  that covered most of the screen partially underneath them on the kitchen floor.

Jamison immediately called for the detectives and the medical examiner, even though it was painfully obvious they were goners. Then he and Timms taped off the entire area. Jackson then started walking to the back end of the property. As he did, Bolton said. “Careful not to touch the fence. It’s got a hundred thousand volts. I can shut it off, if you like. I have to do that when I trim along the property line.”

“You do that Darius. When I get out there, you give me a wave that it’s all clear.” 

Jamison was a hunter, a twelve-year veteran and knew what to look for. But he was pretty sure that he wouldn’t find anything. This was not the world’s most difficult shot to make, but whoever did it must have been some kind of pro with a pretty big gun to blow holes that big into both guys at the same time.

He got to the fence and turned around. Darius waved an all clear at him. But the trees were so dense that the only way he could get in would be to drive around to the service road out the back. He walked along for a while and didn’t notice anything unusual. But then that was to be expected. After only a minute or so out at the edge of the property line he walked back. Several minutes later two ambulances arrived along with an unmarked car with two detectives, Matt Casey and Julien Gomez. Then a third car came up the driveway with the medical examiner, Geraldine Sutter. They talked to both Jackson and Timms and then Bolton. Then they went to look at the bodies.

“Musta been some fuckin’ cannon to take out both guys at the same time and blow them right through the screen.” Casey said.

Geraldine Sutter, aka Gerry, just nodded. “Fifty cal, I reckon. Probably won’t find a bullet. Blowing holes that big means they were tipped with something, like mercury or magnesium so it would have fragmented soon as it hit something solid like the second guy’s spine.”

Gomez walked over to the table and noticed the phone in pieces. “This phone was slammed into that table. Didn’t just drop there. Once the crime scene guys are done, we should find someone who can figure out who he was talkin’ to that pissed him off that badly.”

“You know who these guys were, eh?”

“Gomez, who was fairly new to Beaumont having earned his detective shield down in Brownsville, shook his head.

“The guy on his face with the crater in his back was one of the richest people in the country. The guy underneath him was his bodyguard and best friend.” Casey said.

“That the guy who’s been fuckin’ around up in DC tryin’ to sell the country a Republican president?” Gomez asked.

“Yeah. So we can assume this was an all-pro job.”

“Fuck, that means the the goddamn FBI.”

“Yep. And we get to sit around and play with ourselves.”

Sutter took pictures of the whole scene, including the pieces of the phone and the splatter across the kitchen floor. 

“Cause of death is pretty obvious.” Geraldine said, “Some real good shooter with a real big gun.”

“You have any estimate on time of death?” Casey asked.

“The decomposition was pretty far along. I’d guess a couple days ago at least. Maybe you can get a better time fix off the phone if anybody can put it back together enough to read anything.”

Then she turned to the two waiting ambulance guys. “We’re done. Take’m into town.” Then she turned to Casey. “I’ll get right on it. But you’ll probably get more info from the phone. I’m pretty sure all I’m gonna find are lead fragments,” she said. “I’ll sent you all the photos.”

“Thanks Gerry.” Casey said, “Oh by the way this is Julien Gomez. He’s the new guy, replacing Wiley Forrest.”

“Yeah, I heard Wiley retired.” Nice to meet you Julien, Gerry Sutter.” Gerry said as she closed up her bag. “You guys come by when I’m done the post mortems. Try and find some next of kin so we know where to ship the bodies.”

Then Gerry was gone.

The two detectives stayed long enough to inspect the scene after the body was moved and carefully gather up the pieces of the broken phone on the deck. 

“Nice place.” Gomez said. “A little low key for a big time billionaire.”

“The way I hear it, he spent most of his time on his plane. Had fucking businesses all over the place.” Casey said.

As soon as they did a walkthrough of the house, they left it with the uniforms. “FBI will be all over this presently, Casey said. “Just refer them to us.”

Then Casey and Gomez got in their car and headed back to town.

Later the day after the shooting Phillip Ross Missy, Tuttle and Henry were sitting down for ribs at Rudy’s. It was late evening so the dinner hour was done and they could talk freely.

“I told Jackson about your twofer. He was totally impressed.” Ross said.

“Yeah, well about ninety percent of it, I reckon, was just dumb luck. Got the shakes for a while after. Missy told me that would pass, and it did. I’m alright now.” 

“Yeah. It’s a bit out there as experiences go,” Tuttle said. “But you know what? You deleted one of the biggest threats our country has seen in a long time.”

Henry just smiled and bit into his ribs. He spent the rest of the meal listening to stories from all three and got to know them all a bit better.”

The only thing that Henry was disappointed about was that he could not share this with anyone, not even his father or Lucy. He’d have to keep it to himself for the rest of his life.

At the end of the meal, Henry said. “You know if there’s nothing else on the horizon. I think I’m gonna head home and see if I still have a girlfriend.”

“There will be a million and a half in your Barbados account tomorrow. I sincerely hope we can count on you again, Henry, because you did a splendid job.”Ross said.

“In for a penny, in for a pound sir.” Henry said as he got up shook hands with Tuttle and Ross and hugged Missy. 

“Give my regards to the rest of the group. “I’ll clean the rifle and bring it back to you on my way back north tomorrow, he said to Tuttle. 

“No need, Henry. Jackson will pick up everything, Jeep included tomorrow, drive it to my house and stash it in my garage.” Tuttle replied. “We’ll see you soon.” 

Henry left the restaurant and got into the Jeep then headed down the few blocks to the house. 

The next morning he cleaned the gun then quickly packed up his stuff and tossed it all into the trunk of the Lexus. Just before he was ready to leave, a taxi dropped Jackson off in front of the house. He walked up the driveway to where Henry was standing.”

“Great work, Henry.” Jackson said.

“Thanks.” Henry replied. “You come to get the Jeep and gun?”

“Yeah, and to see how you were doing.”

Henry took a deep breath. “Well, I was a little shaky for the first six hours or so. Then it calmed down. Havin’ Missy to talk to made it a lot easier than if I’d been on my own.”

“Yeah.” Jackson said. “She has that effect on people.

“Well thank you for all your help, Jackson.”

“It’s all for the cause, Henry.” Jackson replied. “You know this country has always done better with a Democratic government. All the Republicans have ever done is run up the debt and keep the rich in a low tax bracket.”

“There’s always that.”

“Look.” Jackson said. “This…you know what you’re feeling right now, is gonna stay with you for a while. But it will fade. Trust me.”

Henry absently scratched his head. “You’re right you know. I believe that. Just right now, I’d like to be home and with my girl.”

“Know the feeling very well, Henry.”

Henry closed the trunk. “Keys are on the hook inside. I’m all packed. You can lock up.”

“Will do.” Jackson said, as the two men shook hands. “And we’ll likely see you soon. Sadly, this country has more than its share of dangerous assholes.”

Henry started up the Lexus and headed down the driveway at just about the same time the story was breaking nationally. So all the way back up to Owings Mills, he took it all in and realized that he was part of something pretty big and pretty small at the same time.

~ 29 ~

FBI Special agents Hollis Keene and James Holcomb arrived at the FBI field office in downtown Beaumont. They were given a car and directed to police headquarters where Casey and Gomez, who had been pre-advised, were waiting for them in one of the larger evidence rooms. They had posted all the relevant photos on a corkboard on the far wall. 

Keene and Holcomb were shown into the room and the two cops stood up and hands were shaken all around.

Gomez poured coffee for everyone and they all sat down at the table. 

“Understand you’ll be takin’ over this investigation.” Casey said. “Anything we can do to help, we’re happy to do it.”

“Maybe you could take us through what you know right now.” Keene said.

“Well.” Casey said, because he was the senior detective. “The vics, Elmore Bishop and Trevor Mason were billionaire and bodyguard in that order. They appear to have been killed two days ago, but because they live out in the country, nobody knew about it until the lawn guy, one Darius Bolton, a local guy, came to cut the grass, knocked on the door, got no answer so he went round back and what he found is plastered on the corkboard. Darius then called the patrol officers and they called us.

“From the size of the holes in both these guys, we deduced that somebody with skills had hit them with at least a 50 calibre bullet, which we found no trace of. The men were facing each other and were killed, we assume, by the same bullet. Lots of blood, no bullet fragments that we found. I then went down to the far end of the property several hundred yards, in fact and walked along the fence line. The whole property with the exception of the front gate is wall-to-wall spruce trees. I further assumed that whoever did this came through the woods at the back. There’s a dirt road running about thirty yards east of the property. So they walked through the woods, set up, shot, walked back to their vehicle and got the fuck out of there, way before anybody knew a damn thing. Ground was rock hard so no discernible tire tracks.

“We also found pieces of a high end iPhone that had been smashed on the table on the deck. We’re having our techs look at it to see if we can nail down a time of death at least, and if we’re really lucky, who Bishop had been talking to. That’s about it. And since they’re out in the boonies, there were really no neighbours to question. And now we are talking to you guys.”

“OK.” Keene said. “Thanks for that update. We’re gonna need copies of everything, any forensics and autopsy info, plus anything you find out from the phone. If you don’t get anything, we’ll take it back to Atlanta and see what we can do.”

“Do you want to visit the site?” Gomez asked.

“Are we gonna learn any more than what you just told us?” Keene  asked.

“I don’t think so.” Gomez replied.

“The only question I would have is how many people in town knew about Bishop?” Holcomb asked.

“Hard to say.” Casey said. “He never really came to town at all. Not even for groceries. But you know, Darius Bolton knew about him. And Darius, well, you know small cities. Could be just him. Could be hundreds of folks. The cops all knew for sure. But we’re pretty much a Republican town so a political motive would be hard to come by. And I’ve been on the force for twenty years and have never heard tell of anyone around here who could handle a 50 calibre gun. That’s what heavy-duty snipers use.”

Hollis Keene took a deep breath and got to his feet. “Okay, well thanks for the excellent briefing gentlemen. We’re gonna go find a place to stay. We’ll be back in a couple of hours to pick up the crime scene package and get any info you may have pulled off the phone. And, of course the phone itself.”

Hands we shaken all around and Keene and Holcombe left the station. 

Casey and Gomez sat back down. 

“Well, that was short and sweet. Fucking feds.” Casey said.

“Well, let’s face it’s better having them out there chasing shadows than us.” Gomez replied. 

“Make them a couple of decks and file it. I’ll type out the report so far, Then we can go see Gerry and the tech guys.” Casey said, but there was definitely a little sadness in voice. “Juicy murders are hard to come by in this town. The minute one does happen the fucking Feds swoop in. Go figure.” 

Keene and Holcombe found a motel just outside the downtown core. They registered, dropped their bags and headed off looking for a restaurant. Lot of Tex/Mex stuff around which was fine with both of them. They got settled in and ordered at a place called elCamino. While they were waiting for their beers, Keene asked. “So what do you think, James, another tail-chasing session?”

“Pretty much sir. It would have helped is there were any witnesses or even some kind of motive. I assume a lot of people hated the guy. Comes with the uber-rich territory, but this just feels so…familiar.” 

“You’re right about that, James.” Keene said. “Whoever is doing this is, well, let’s just say that have my grudging admiration. They show up, execute and disappear without so much as a by your leave. They’re deadly accurate and they’ve got the skills to operate a small cannon. The only thing that gets me thinking is just where they get their information. I mean by all accounts this Bishop character is all over the place, practically lives on his plane. How the hell did they know when he’d be home?

“Maybe there’s a third party…world class hacker type.” Holcomb said.

“Yeah, and maybe there’s a heavy duty planner who’s orchestrating it all.”

“Oh no, sir. Please. Not Ross again. We’ve beat that into the ground.”

“Yeah we have. But have you ever really been satisfied with any of our interactions with him.”

“Well was a high level spook. These guys are not exactly sparkling conversationalists.”

“Yeah, but it would be interesting to see if a certain senator comes crawling out of the woodwork if we were to go visit Mr Ross.”

Holcomb took a deep breath and sighed, just as the food was put down in front of him. “Let’s at least have dinner first.” he said. 

~ 30 ~

The next morning the news of the massive hack of one of Elmore Bishop’s offshore accounts was everywhere. The release came directly from the heavily guarded computer of Damon Reese and was signed by the infamous Sword of Damocles group. 

The night before, it was mass emailed out to more than 500 television stations coast to coast and to all the newspapers in every major city in the country. 

          The Sword of Damocles Comes Down Again

The demise of major league Republican donor and wannabe kingmaker, Elmore Bishop should serve as a grim reminder to all those with designs on turning America into any sort of oligarchy. Furthermore we have taken more than $14 billion of his money, so his heirs, if he has any, will be in for an unpleasant surprise.

America is the leading free democratic republic in the world today. And we at the Sword of Damocles are more than prepared to do whatever it takes to keep it that way.”

   The Sword of Damocles

As Hollis Keene and James Holcomb waited in Houston to board their flight to Washington, they could not believe the amount of traffic at the Houston airport which was the closest to Beaumont. The town was going to be overrun with reporters looking for a scoop. They would turn the place inside out and upside down and a few days later they would head home empty-handed. 

“The media in this country have gone straight to hell, James. Look at them all. What a fucking circus.”

“You’ve got that right sir.”

They got to Dulles airport four hours later and rented a car. They didn’t want to waste time going to the Washington office. 

They got down to Richmond at about four in the afternoon. When they did, they called Phillip Ross’s office and were politely told that Mr Ross was taking the week off. 

So they drove to his house. Saw four cars, three of which  they recognized. As they got out they heard noises coming from the rear of the house. So they went around the corner. 

Phillip Ross and Missy Felder were sitting at a table reading newspapers. Jackson Lyall and Ross’s daughter,  Marlena were sitting at the half submerged in the water as the late afternoon sun beat down upon them.

Ross noticed the agents right away. 

He waved them over. 

“Missy, you remember Agents Keene and Holcomb.”

“Of course, come to question us about that evil bastard, Elmore Bishop, no doubt.”

“Please, have a seat.” Ross said. The two agents sat down opposite Ross and Missy Felder. You remember young Jackson Lyall. And that’s his wife, my daughter Marlena. Neither Jackson nor Marlena said anything.

“So how can we help you gentlemen today?”

“Well you know.” Keene said. “We’re just rolling though the usual suspects list and you’re always right up there near the top.”

“So I assume you’d like to know our whereabouts over the past week. I hate to disappoint you. But Missy and I have  been right here. A stay-at-home vacation if you will. Jackson and my daughter have been working in her studio downtown, in fact, putting together a new showing of his work in Baltimore in the fall. So we are all, how do they say it in the movies, alibied up.”

“Yes, I thought you would be. But we do have to go through the motions, since we haven’t been able to develop even a tiny lead back to this Sword of Damocles group.” Keene said. 

“Yeah, well, as much as I am personally rejoicing in Mr. Bishop’s demise, I have a feeling that you will soon be filing this in your unsolved cases drawer. Mr Bishop was not just disliked but actually hated by every single democratic Senator and Congressmen in Washington. Now, if one of those people ever got it in their mind to take him down and steal, what was it, fourteen billion from him, well I’d be happy to buy them a drink at any bar of their choosing. But alas, none of us have left the city limits in over a week. So there you have it. You can put some surveillance on us if you like. But last time all they got was a plate of cookies for their trouble. There will be no cookies this time, Agent Keene, just a big old nothing burger.”

Keene and Holcomb got to their feet. They said their goodbyes and nodded to Jackson and Marlena. They listened
for their car to start.”

“I’m beginning to think you like it when they come around.” Missy said.

“I must confess, it’s a lot of fun.” Ross said.

Keene and Holcomb drove back to Washington. After about twenty minutes, Holcomb said. “I’ll be honest with you, sir. I’m beginning to feel guilty about the taxpayer dollars we are spending chasing this man.”

But Keene said nothing. Instead he opened his phone and called Damon Reese.

“Damon Reese.”

“Mr Reese. You’re a hard man to get hold of. This is Special Agent Hollis Keene of the FBI.”

“Okay.”

“So I’d like to meet with you. I have a few questions.” 

“Questions? What kind of questions are we talking about here?”

“I’d rather save that till we can meet.”

“Hmmm. Well, let me see. There’s a restaurant called Rudy’s Ribs.”

“I’ve been to Rudy’s.”

“OK. I was gonna go there for lunch. So why don’t we meet there say around one?”

“Sounds like a plan.” 

“We’ll see you then.”

Keene disconnected. “Turn the car around James. We’re going to have some ribs.”

Twenty minutes later they were sitting at a round table in the far corner of Rudy’s Ribs. They had both ordered coffees and were about halfway though when Damon Reese walked in. He was wearing his usual cargo shorts and Hawaiian shirt. He spotted the Feds right away, because they stood out like a two sore thumbs in their grey suits.

Damon caught Josie the waitress and asked her for a coffee. She nodded and Reese walked over to the table and sat down. 

“Damon Reese?” Keene asked

“In the flesh”, Reese responded. “Agents Keene and Holcomb, I assume. So to what do I owe the pleasure of this little tete-a-tete?”

“We’re just curious about your connection to Phillip Ross and Missy Felder.” 

“Well, I built and maintain web sites for both of them. They are just two of about forty clients I have.”

“I know you’ve heard about the Sword of Damocles Group.” Keene asked

“Well sure, they’ve been raisin’ hell for a couple of years now.”

“Suppose I told you I suspected that Phillip Ross was the mastermind of that group.”

Reese smiled and then chuckled. “Wow. You really believe that!”

“Well, you do work for him and he’s been very secretive about his work.”

“And that makes him some fucking domestic terrorist? You guys are way out to lunch. The work Mr Ross does… I don’t know exactly what it all is, but it sure as hell doesn’t involve any of the kind of the stuff this Sword of Damocles group is pulling.”

“Have you ever worked on any of his confidential projects?”

“Yeah, of course I have. That’s exactly how I know you’re barking up the wrong tree. Most of the stuff he does it outside the country. He has no interest in hooligans like the fanatics that Damocles group took out. And he sure as hell didn’t have anything to do with the asshole billionaire who just got
whacked. I was digging around about him and he was a pretty nasty son of a bitch.” Damon said.

“Why were you digging around, as you say, about Mr. Bishop.”

“I’m writing a book on the Sword of Damocles group.”

“So you’ve been in touch with them?” Hollis asked.

No. Not yet at least. I’ve been looking around though and Mr Ross is nowhere in my sights. Best I can figure so far is that these are rich college kids who’ve become radicalized.”

Josie showed up to take their orders. Reese spent the next hour working hard on being completely evasive. He could sense the frustration building in the agents, which made him feel pretty good inside.

The meeting ended like all the other meetings they had had with the group of suspects in Richmond. As far as they knew they had exhausted the last possibility here.

~ 31 ~

As they were sitting in the Dulles departures lounge, Hollis Keene got a call from none other than Senator Rolland Winters.

“Senator. What can I do for you sir?”

“For me, nothing, son. But what you can do for yourself is back off this loco obsession you have with Philip Ross. I told you last time this would a) lead you nowhere and b) get you into a heap of trouble. 

Yes sir, you did. But with all due respect, I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t check on all the people on my suspect list.”

“I understand that, son. But you have driven this nail into the wood and now it’s starting to look like some kinda overkill.”

“Well, if it’s any gratification to you, sir. We are sitting in Dulles waiting to be taken back home.”

‘Well that’s good to hear. But I’ll tell you the truth son. I understand the frustration you’re feeling, but if you keep messing with people who are doing confidential work for the US government, it will not end well for you. And this is the last time I will tell you that. ”

“I hear you sir.”

Keene disconnected. Holcomb chuckled.

“What?”

“Well it’s just comforting to know that my opinion of all this is shared.

“Well, whatever floats your boat James. Of course, you realize we are back to zero leads.”

“Well sir, like you said one time, and it stuck in my head., we’re not dealing with your average criminal minds.”

“No, we’re not, James. But I really wish we were. But it just seems to me that the only people who are benefiting from this activity are the Democrats.”

“Well, there you go. Cuts our suspect list in half.”

“There’s always that.” Keene said. But in the back of his mind, he was having a lot of trouble getting around his instincts.

~ 32 ~

Henry Feather was lying on his bed staring up at the ceiling again. He was still trying to get past the one notion that he was now a hired gun and over to the other notion that he was doing something good for his country. But it was a hard leap to make. Harder than Henry believed in would be in the beginning. The people he was working with were all good souls. They were dedicated to keeping his country from turning into some kind of shithole which he knew the Republicans would turn it into though their greed and enslavement to big business. It seemed they wanted power for a completely different reason than the Democrats did. As that thought sunk in he started to feel a little better. 

Then, when Lucy entered the room and jumped on him, he forgot everything.

“Where the hell have you been, soldier?”

“Had a little something to take care of in DC.” Henry said. “You know, army stuff. Then I ran into an old buddy and we drove down to Chesapeake Bay, where he lives, and did some fishing.”

“I never knew you were a fisherman.”

“Neither did I until I got on his boat and he lent me a rod and reel. There’s something very peaceful about it. So I stayed with him and his wife for a few days and then headed back here.”

“Well, I missed you.”

“Same here, sweetie.”

“So does this mean you’re back for good?”

‘You just never can tell. On the way home I stopped off in Richmond. That town is growin’ like a weed. I talked to a developer there and I think I’m gonna invest in some real estate down that way. So that’ll take me down there every now and then.” 

Henry hated lying to Lucy about what he was actually doing down in Richmond, but he was also a bit proud of himself that he was able to spin that yarn so easily.

“You’re not thinking about moving down there?” Lucy asked.

“No, no, nothing like that. I like living here, keeping the overhead low for the time being.”

“Well,  that’s good because I kinda like havin’ you around.”

“Don’t worry about that.”

Henry then rolled over and kissed Lucy and for the rest of the afternoon they just lay on his bed fooling around and talking about nothing in particular. But underneath it all Henry was waiting for the next call from Phillip Ross.

~ 33 ~

Phillip Ross was sitting on the steps of the Capital Reflecting Pool, surrounded by tourists. A few minutes later Senator Winters came walking up. Ross got to his feet and the two men began to walk around the pool.

“Well we really fucked’em in the ear this time, Phil. The level of panic is palpable.” Winters said.

“Well that’s good to hear, Senator. We broke in a new shooter for this project and it couldn’t have worked out better.”

“I hear tell he got them both with single shot.” Winters said. “That’s some shootin’.”

“Sometimes you catch a break like that. Doesn't’ happen often but when it does, we’re always happy about it.”

“Well I’ll tell you. I think it’s gonna be some time before they find a new Daddy Warbucks. But there’s always something goin’ on with those clowns.”

“Anything specific?”

“Not just yet. But there a bit of a rumour floating around;’ around. I’ll keep you posted. How are things at your end.”

“Lots of business, it’s a really entrepreneurial world, Rolland. Speakin’ of which we uh, investigated the residences of your turncoats. Didn’t come up with anything we could use though.”

“Let’s just let that roll on for a bit longer, see if this last event has any effect on them, you know, bringing them back into the fold, so to speak. The Republicans are really spooked. Maybe some of that spilled over.”

“It’s your call Senator?

“Yeah, well. It’s a lot safer at the moment thanks to you. Trouble is the whole situation can turn on a dime.”

“Yeah, our team is pretty solid. By the way, Missy and I are gonna get married soon. Would love to have you and the Missus attend.”

“Just say when, Phil. And by the way, the fee’s been deposited in your offshore account. And thank you and your group for their service.”

“I’ll let them know, sir.” 

The two men shook hands warmly. 

“Well, you have a good day, Rolland.”

“You too, Phil. Talk soon.”

They were on the far side of the pool. But it was a beautiful day so Ross decided to keep walking. As he walked he thought a lot about how familiar he was with everything around him. But he also realized that he didn’t miss it one bit.”

~ 34 ~

Tuttle unloaded the AX150 into the back room of his range and with a special tool, inserted it into the barrel and changed the striations along the interior of the barrel, just slightly. It was an extra measure of safety that he had read about somewhere on the dark web. This meant that, going forward, he would do it after every shooting. So if the FBI was lucky enough to find enough of a bullet to analyze, they would have no basis for comparison to any gun anywhere. And after each kill, he would change the interior striations of the gun barrel again. 

Tuttle was, and had been since the beginning of his role in Phillip Ross’s underground organization, a very cautious man. And it was this caution along with the cleverness and sanity of all the other players that had kept and, hopefully would continue to keep the FBI at arm’s length.

Later that afternoon, he decided it was time to check up on Henry. He had been home for close to a week and Tuttle was interested in his mental state.

Henry was sitting on his back deck reading a John Grisham novel when his group phone rang.

“Henry, it’s Tuttle.”

“Hi Tuttle. How are things down your way?”

“Just fine. The FBI showed up again, banged their heads against a couple of walls and left. But Damon got a free lunch out of it.”

Henry laughed.

“And how are things with you, son?” Tuttle asked.

“I’m OK. A lot of stuff has faded pretty quickly. Helps to be back home, you know. There’s not another project shaping up is there?”

“No, this is just a courtesy call to see how you’re doin’. You sound just fine. Are you sleeping well?”

Yes sir, I am. I think about things from time to time. I’m also thinkin’ about buying a rifle. Gotta keep up my skills, you know.”

“Well you head down here and we’ll get you taken care of. Employee discount and all.”

Henry laughed. “Yeah, I just might do that.”

“Well you sound good, so I’m happy about that.” 

Okay, well thanks for checkin’ up on me. Any word on what’s goin’ on in DC?”

“Not much at all. The Republicans got hit hard and they’ll all nosin’ around for another mega-donor. But they’re gonna have a helluva time finding one, at least for the foreseeable future, and that was a big part of the plan.”

“Well, that’s good to know. Kinda justifies things in my mind.”

“I thought it would. You take care Henry and get your ass down here when you’re ready to buy that long gun.”

“Will do, sir.”

With that, Henry disconnected and took a deep breath. He was gonna be alright, he told himself, and for the first time since he had blown Bishop and Mason away, he actually believed it.

FIN