A Father's Justice Pt. 06

Many thanks to those who offered comments and constructive criticism on my previous stories. For those who want to say this or that would never happen, remember this is my universe, a place where nearly anything can, and often does, happen. At least on paper...

To understand the full context of what is taking place here, I suggest you first read, "A Father's Justice Pt. 01,""A Father's Justice Pt. 02," "A Father's Justice Pt.03," "A Father's Justice Pt. 04" and "A Father's Justice Pt. 05." For those who may be wondering, there is one final part left. I had originally planned to end it with this part, but it got a bit more involved than I thought and I didn't want to rush the ending.

Please refer to my profile for more on my personal policy regarding comments, feedback, follows, etc. (Yes, I moderate comments) And please remember, this is a work of fiction, not a docu-drama...

...

End of "A Father's Justice, Pt. 05":

"You gonna be alright?" Ryan asked. "You did put your career on the line tonight."

"Let me worry about my career," Smith said. "It'll be alright. I'll call you tomorrow, okay? You gonna be home?"

"I'll be flying back east with Sarah, Bob and Ryan, but you can still get me on my phone," Ryan said. Smith nodded his head.

"Okay," he said. "I'll be in touch."

"Thanks again," Ryan said. "For everything."

"You're welcome," Smith said, shaking Ryan's hand. Weary, Ryan closed the door and headed upstairs where his wife-to-be was waiting. He knew they would only get a few hours sleep before she had to get up and tend to her chickens.

"I need a break," he said to himself as he laid down next to Beverly.

"Goodnight, my husband-to-be," Beverly said as she kissed him on the face. He returned her kiss and wrapped his arm around her. She felt so soft and warm.

"Goodnight, my wife-to be," he responded before falling asleep.

...

And now, "A Father's Justice, Pt. 06":

The next morning, Ryan woke to the smell of bacon coming up from the kitchen. He rubbed his eyes and looked at the clock -- 7:00 am. Crap, he thought. Beverly liked to get up early to feed her chickens. He glanced at her side of the bed and noticed she was already gone. He didn't even know she was up.

He stumbled out of the bed, took a quick shower and dressed in his usual clothes. That's when he saw the note on the dresser.

"My dearest Ryan," it began. "I got up early to go tend to the chickens. I have some deliveries to make this morning, so I'll be gone till about 12:00. I knew you were exhausted from last night, so I let you sleep. Sarah said she would make all y'all some breakfast. I know you planned to take the kids home today. If you have to leave before I get back, just call. I'll be okay. Love you so much!"

The note was signed, "Your soon-to-be happy wife, Beverly." He smiled and shook his head. She was so devoted to those chickens, he thought. How could she have done what she did last night and still get up so early to tend to them, he wondered.

He heard the television playing as he made his way downstairs. Buster saw him coming down, and motioned for him to come in the front room. Little Ryan was sitting on the couch with Buster and Ian, so he picked the youngster up and set him on his lap as he took a seat. The boy's eyes were glued to the television, like everyone else in the room.

"Check this out, man," Buster said, turning the volume up a bit.

"Shares of Knight Petroleum took a hit this morning as news broke of a possible attack on a southeastern New Mexico retreat owned by the company," the anchor said. "State law enforcement officials are working with agents of the FBI to determine what actually took place. We take you live to a press conference in progress at the camp." The scene shifted to a report taken at the site of the camp. Agent Smith's bleary-eyed face took up the screen.

"We are still collecting evidence in an effort to determine what took place here overnight," he said.

"How many were killed or injured in the attack?" one reporter shouted.

"We are not releasing any of that information until the next of kin have been notified," Smith said.

"Were there any survivors or witnesses?" another reporter asked. Smith shook his head.

"No," he said. "None that have come forward at any rate. No survivors have been located in the camp."

"Is it possible drugs may have been involved?" asked a third reporter.

"We are examining all possible scenarios," Smith said.

"What about terrorism?" another reporter shouted out.

"As I indicated before, we are looking into all possibilities," Smith said.

"Could this be related to the ongoing investigation of the former CEO, Jacob Knight or the shooting of interim CEO Lisa Knight?" another reporter asked.

"We have not ruled out either of those possibilities," Smith said.

"If so, how would this impact either of those investigations?" the first reporter asked.

"You'll have to direct that question to the federal prosecutor in charge of those cases," Smith said. "I'm here to investigate a possible crime, not speculate on the impact of an ongoing case where litigation is either pending or ongoing."

"Damn, that Smith fella is one cool cucumber," Buster said. Everyone agreed.

"Can you tell us anything about how this was reported?" one reporter asked. "This is a fairly remote area and from what we can tell, the nearest neighbor is several miles away." Smith turned to a local deputy sheriff, who stepped to the podium.

"Actually, the nearest neighbor is about 12 miles away," the deputy said. "He happened to be outside when he thought he heard gunfire from this general direction. He called 911 and it took officers up to an hour and a half to determine this was the site of the incident."

"Why so long?" one reporter asked.

"Well, look around," the deputy said. "There's very few roads going in and out of here, not very many people. There's a lot of territory to cover out here. This ain't the big city, you know."

"Agent Smith, have you been in touch with any of the executives at Knight Petroleum?" a reporter asked.

"I have not, no," he said. "We attempted to make contact but were told they were not available."

"Don't you find that a bit odd?" the second reporter asked.

"We find a lot of things about this... incident odd," he said in reply. "That will be all for now. We'll be in touch when we have something new to share. Thank you." He stepped down, and the scene shifted to a reporter on the scene, speaking into a microphone.

"And we just heard from FBI Special Agent John Smith, who basically said they are looking into a number of possible scenarios, and have no real information to share at this time," the young woman said. "It is interesting to note that earlier, two damaged SUVs with what appeared to be Mexican license plates were spotted being removed as well as the damaged fuselage of a Lear jet registered to Knight Petroleum. We were able to confirm the aircraft is one of a small fleet used to ferry executives and VIP clients. Back to you, George."

"Thank you, Sherry," the male news reader said when the scene shifted back to the studio. "We now go live to Central City, where reporters are waiting to hear from a media spokesperson at Knight Petroleum." The scene shifted once again to a briefing room. A podium sat in front of a curtain that displayed the Knight Petroleum logo. As they watched, an attractive brunette took her place behind the podium and consulted her notes.

Sarah, seeing that everyone was glued to the news on the television, started bringing plates filled with scrambled eggs and bacon into the living room. She set a place mat on the coffee table and put a smaller plate of food for little Ryan on it.

"Sorry, hon," Bob said. "Do you need some help?"

"No, no, I got it," she said. "You boys keep your eyes on the news." The men began eating as soon as they had food in front of them. Ryan sat the young boy down in front of the coffee table so he could eat his breakfast. As they watched, the brunette looked at the reporters in the room and spoke.

"As you all know, reports emerged this morning that a retreat owned and operated by Knight Petroleum allegedly came under attack by a person or persons unknown," she said, reading from her script. "There have been reports of casualties, but we are not releasing any names pending notification of next of kin. Of course, our condolences go out to the families of those individuals and we will do everything we can to minimize the impact on the families of the victims. We are working with federal and state officials in New Mexico to determine the facts of the case. We will now take a few questions from members of the press."

All of the reporters raised their hands, and the brunette picked one in the front row.

"A report from the scene said a damaged Lear jet registered to Knight Petroleum was removed from the scene for analysis," the reporter began. "As I understand from your own records, that jet is one of several used by your company to ferry executives, members of the board and VIPs. Were any of your executives or board members on that aircraft or in the camp at the time? And if so, what is their disposition?"

"I am not privy to that information," the brunette said. "At this time, I do not know who was on the aircraft. It's possible that it was empty and simply made a stop there to refuel. Our flight crews do that sometimes, and often make use of the facilities for overnight sleepovers. We also keep a small staff stationed at the facility for maintenance and security."

"You don't know where your own executives or board members are?" the reporter pressed.

"I didn't say that," the brunette said. "I simply said I do not know if any executives were on the aircraft or at the facility. It's quite possible there were no passengers."

"But the flight plan we uncovered showed the aircraft left here the day before yesterday, and the plan said its destination was New Mexico," another reporter said. "Also, the manifest we obtained showed the aircraft had nine passengers on board, the maximum number it could safely carry. Can you explain that?"

"I cannot explain that," the brunette said. "I will have to check with management to verify that allegation."

"Why haven't we heard from your board of directors, Mr. Elmer Jenkins?" another reporter shouted out. "Or anyone else from the board?"

"I cannot answer that," the brunette said, prompting groans from the reporters. Another reporter stood up.

"There have been several reports in the last day or so from the UK that say the body one of your board members, a Mr. Colin Blackstone, was found dismembered and stuffed in a suitcase in Manchester, England," the reporter said. "How do you respond to that?"

"We just received those reports as well," the brunette said. "Mr. Blackstone recently returned to England to deal with a family emergency. We have nothing else to report other than we are working with authorities there to solve the case. That will have to conclude today's conference, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you very much." She turned and left the podium, clearly agitated. Reporters shouted questions as she left, but she never acknowledged them. Ryan turned to Jorge and Bill.

"Blackstone," Ryan said. "That's the guy Timmy fingered as the one who introduced him to Jake, remember?" Jorge nodded his head.

"What?" Sarah asked.

"Yeah," Ryan said. "Timmy was the one who shot Lisa. According to him, this Blackstone fella approached him about the job, took him to meet Jake, then set him up with the gun, the instructions and the payment. I asked Elmer about it, and he told me Blackstone had to go home for a family emergency."

"Bloody hell," Ian said.

"I agree," Ryan said. "But we've got another problem."

"What's that?" Buster asked.

"If Sheriff Coltrane saw that report, he'll be looking for answers," Ryan said.

"That's the sheriff who came out last night and escorted us to the state line?" Jorge asked. Ryan nodded his head.

"One and the same," Ryan said. "Agent Smith and I talked directly to him. Russell T. Coltrane may come off as a down-home country sheriff, but he's sharp. He'll put two and two together and I suspect he'll be out soon."

"Then we should probably make ourselves scarce," Buster said.

"I agree, mate," Ian said.

"If Gunner can help me out, I can have the chopper ready to go in 15 minutes," Jim said.

"Bill and I should probably head out as well," Jorge said. "He got a good look at me and my van." Ryan thought for a moment and nodded his head.

"Alright," he finally said. "Let's roll." They all got up and put their things together. Bob went out with Jim and helped get the chopper ready to fly. Ryan walked Jorge and Bill to the van.

"Do me a favor, would ya?" Ryan asked Jorge.

"Sure, anything," Jorge said.

"Can you let me know when Jake has his next court appearance?" Ryan asked.

"I think he's set to be in court tomorrow," Jorge said. "I'll have Bill double-check the docket on our way back and we'll let you know."

"You can do that from your van?" Ryan asked. Jorge smiled.

"Of course," he said. "That's why they call it 'mobile.' We can access the Internet from anywhere these days. Welcome to the 21^st century."

"Okay, okay," Ryan said. "Thanks."

"No problem," Jorge said. "We'll be in touch." They said their goodbyes and Ryan watched as they drove off. He went back inside the house and met Ian, Cap and Buster. They had each gathered their things and were heading out. Ryan shook their hands.

"Thank you, guys," Ryan said. "I really appreciate all your help."

"No worries, mate," Ian said. "Just make sure to invite us to the wedding."

"You got it," Ryan said. They walked out to the chopper and Ryan watched as it lifted off, raising a huge cloud of dirt. After the dust settled, he saw Bob making his way to the house.

"You think Elmer may have had that Blackstone guy murdered?" Sarah asked as she cleaned up the dishes. Ryan nodded his head.

"I do," he said. "He was a loose end that had to be eliminated."

"What a mess," she said. "And to think Lisa was part of all that. What a waste. She had us all fooled." Ryan noticed her use of her mother's name. It was the first time he could remember her not calling Lisa, "Mom."

"That she did," Ryan said. He looked at little Ryan, who was sitting on the couch, watching television. "I'm glad to see Ryan's up and about."

"Me too," Sarah said. "He had me so worried last night. That Cap guy checked him out last night and said he should be okay. Still, I wanna scratch that bitch's eyes out for what they did to him." Ryan had no argument, so he gave her a hug and a kiss on the forehead.

"I know how you feel," he said. "Look, I have to make some calls. I'll be right out front."

"Okay, Dad," she said.

...

FBI Special Agent John Smith looked around at what was left of the camp. It looked quite different in the light of day. He remembered the events of the previous evening as he took in the carnage. He shuddered when he saw Elmer's burnt head in the still-smoldering fireplace of the building where he, Jorge and Ryan confronted Jenkins and considered himself glad that Ryan insisted he leave the building when he did. He knew of the old mercenary's reputation, but he never fully realized just how vicious Ryan could really be.

He had seen things like this before during his time in the SEALs, but never from anyone he had served with. As he watched, crime scene investigators cataloged and bagged thousand of rounds of 7.62 mm brass -- shells he knew came from the minigun Bob used last night.

A part of him felt sorry for the poor suckers at the receiving end of that barrage. More than one pile of bloody body parts were recovered from the compound and he knew the chances of them being positively identified were slim. There just wasn't enough left to put back together.

Among the evidence collected were two cross-bow bolts removed from the dead bodies of two security guards. He remembered shooting one of those bolts last night, killing one of the guards.

"Any fingerprints on these?" he asked Jones as he looked at the bolts that were now in separate evidence bags.

"No, none," Jones said. "Whoever used them knew what they were doing." Smith grunted in response.

"Any video? Surely they had some surveillance set up," Smith said.

"They had a system set up, but all of the cables ran through the security shack, and they were cut," Jones said. "So, no, there isn't any surveillance footage." Smith nodded his head. Ryan was apparently more clever and thorough than he originally thought.

"What about tire or shoe tracks?" Smith asked.

"Forget about it," Jones said. "When I got here the whole road was jammed with all kinds of vehicles. They had to bring in a big ass truck to get rid of the trees blocking the gate and there must've been a hundred agents and LEOs stomping all over the place. Whatever tracks might've been there are long gone."

Smith nodded his head as he took in what Jones said. He mentally considered what was found in the camp.

The buildings contained the nude and nearly-nude bodies of a number of people, some of whom were obviously shot as they engaged in sex. He and Agent Jones had uncovered a huge cache of illicit drugs and weapons. Cocaine, marijuana, meth and date rape drugs like Ecstasy were found, making him wonder what really went on here.

They also found a treasure trove of DVDs and documents, all of which were bagged and tagged for further examination back in El Paso. Several computers were bagged and taken for further examination. Agent Jones came up to him and handed him a document. He looked it over, and saw it was a list of known casualties. Except for Colin Blackstone, the list included the entire board of directors of Knight Petroleum, along with the company's chief financial officer.

The list also included the four names of Mexican nationals, two of which he recognized as known members of a vicious drug cartel that operated across the border. Why were they here, he wondered. Eight unidentified women were included on the list. Perhaps, he thought, they were prostitutes who were either brought across the border or procured in one of the local towns. Or both.

"I've already forwarded this to El Paso," Jones said. "They'll arrange all the notifications. They'll also reach out to the Mexican consulate." Smith nodded his head.

"Good," he said.

"What do you think, boss? A drug deal gone bad?" Jones asked. Smith looked around before speaking.

"Possibly," Smith said, fully knowing the real story. "How would you call it?" Jones thought for a bit before speaking.

"Just from the amount of drugs, the viciousness of the attack and the presence of those Mexican nationals, I'd be tempted to say it was drugs," Jones said. "Maybe a rival cartel did this and the Knight people were just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"Hmm," Smith said. "Sounds logical to me." Smith's calm voice masked the turmoil taking place inside him. He had served his country all his adult life, first in the Navy as a SEAL team member, then as a Special Agent in the FBI. Now, he was directly involved in covering up his own illegal actions.

He thought about the situation as he looked around the compound. He knew how easy it was for a case to fall apart. All it would take was a partial fingerprint, a reflection in a cell phone photo or a tiny blob of DNA from someone's spit. Was Ryan really that good, he wondered. Could he really have pulled this off without leaving anything behind?

"Anything else?" he asked Jones. Jones shook his head.

"No, boss," he said. "That's pretty much it. Everything is on its way to El Paso." Smith nodded his head. As he thought about the scene, something niggled at the back of his mind. Ryan said he saw no vehicles here earlier. He knew the jet carried maybe nine people, tops. The two SUVs might have carried 10 or 12. What about the others?