Eyes Only Ch. 04

"So..." Laura said, beginning to understand, "... you're saying that while there was a threat, it wasn't what we thought it was. So... why did they steal the polonium from State Tech? And why were they going to use it?"

"Because, my love," I said, "they thought that was what they were doing. They thought it was going to be a nuclear explosion. They were told to lower the polonium into the reactor core, and it would explode. They were probably told to lower it slowly and drive out of there as fast as they could, or maybe they knew it was a suicide mission. But either way... it wouldn't have worked."

"So..." Laura said, her mind ablaze, the gears turning, "why in the hell did they do that? What is going on?!?!"

"And that," I said, "is why I didn't come to you immediately about the 'Eyes Only' message. The Consultant of Crime was and is behind this, and I was and am trying to fathom his reasons... and in doing so, it'll be one more way to catch him and bring him down... and his organization, as well. I want him, but I want the hundreds that are following him..."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Saturday, October 24th. After watching the University's Bulldogs beat Taco State by a score of only 20-13 in the Homecoming game, Cindy and Teresa moved outside to the patio of the Cop Bar. There was a chill in the late afternoon air, so they pulled up to the lighted fire pit.

"So Don and Laura are up at Lake Watchacoochie for the weekend?" Teresa asked.

"Yeah." said Cindy. "They're going to look at a property up there, and if Don likes it, they'll buy it. Laura says it's his birthday present... but I think she has better ideas of what to give him for his birthday."

"God, how lucky is that guy to be married to a sex professor." Teresa said.

"Depends on how you look at it." Cindy said with a half-grin. "He also has to keep up with her. He must singlehandedly keep Viagra in business."

Teresa made a sound that seemed to be a bark; it was laughter for her. Cindy then peered over at her friend.

"And speaking of keeping up," Cindy said, "you're all but living with Don's nephew, who from what I hear is the absolute hottest and most long-lasting stud in the State, much less the County. So who's the lucky one?"

"Yeah, right." Teresa said. "But I am starting to miss him when he goes on trips; and yes, he is damn good in bed. Better than my ex-husband, even better than..." she stopped.

"Jack Burke?" Cindy asked. Teresa just nodded.

"Listen," Cindy said, "I'm going to go visit my father at 'The Vision' tomorrow, have lunch with him. Jenna swore off, she's busy with case prep for Monday. Why don't you come down with me?"

"I..." Teresa said, then realized she actually wanted to do it. "Okay." she said.

After a few moments of beer consumption and contemplation as they looked at the fire in the fire pit, Cindy said, "Teresa, can I ask you something. Just between us, never let it get out?"

"Sure." said Teresa.

"What do you know of Patrol Officer Lydia Green?"

"Uh," said Teresa, "she's assigned to Vice at Headquarters, like Rudistan and his boys are assigned to MCD at Headquarters, so she's not in one of the Precincts. She's a decent officer, nothing spectacular. Looks a bit overweight but is in good shape, again like Rudistan. Never had a real problem with her. Why?"

Cindy said "Can you very quietly check her out for me? Check her background, maybe even follow up on her patrols and such?"

"Sure, but why?" Teresa asked. "You think she's dirty?"

"Not in the traditional sense." said Cindy. "But again just between you and me, and I haven't even told Don this yet: when I was interrogating Reynolds and shaking him down for some names, I told him that he was being framed to take the fall for the murders. It was a fib to scare him, of course, but... one thing I said to him was that he'd be found hanging from the University Stadium."

"Ohhhhh." said Teresa. "And Velasquez was found hanging from the bleachers."

"Yes." said Cindy. "Don didn't understand why they did that, and normally he'd be right: it was an unnecessary finesse. But I realized later that I'd said that to Reynolds. And guess who else was in the room, and was the only other person in the room?"

"Lydia Green." said Teresa, understanding. "Are you sure I.A. wasn't listening in?"

"They could have been." said Cindy. "I haven't stolen any anti-bugging devices yet, though I'd love to have one of those. But anyway, Green was in the room, as a Uniformed presence is required at all interrogations thanks to that bastard Ikea beating up people. So she's my number one suspect."

"I'll look into it, and see if she's up to anything." said Teresa.

Part 19 - Epilogue

The leaves were a beautiful array of oranges, yellows, and reds, Wallace Bedford noted as he looked through the large window of his formal living room in his New England mansion. He was waiting for his guest to arrive, and was mentally preparing himself for the meeting. This was no ordinary business rival, but a colleague... or antagonist... of tremendous power and organizational abilities.

The butler announced his arrival and he entered the room, seeming to command it with his presence. Wallace Bedford strode up to greet him, shaking his hand warmly.

"Ah, Wallace," he said, "allow me to present you with this small gift as a token of my gratitude for your hospitality."

"You're too kind." said Bedford, taking the bottle of sherry, seeing that it was a very rare and expensive brand. "Allow me to pour us a couple of glasses?"

"By all means." he said. Soon they were seated. He sipped his sherry first, not only as the guest but in the ritual to show the beverage was safe for consumption. Wallace sipped of his glass.

"Ah, excellent. You are a connoisseur." said Bedford. "You always have had an appreciation for the finest things."

"Yes." he said. "I prefer the wealth of selection to the wealth of accumulation. This sherry is an example. I don't need much in my life, but a drink such as this is something to be sought, and appreciated. It is something the unwashed masses, the common man, cannot properly understand."

"I understand, and I agree with you." said Bedford, whose own wealth by accumulation was considerable.

"How is your son doing?" he asked.

Bedford said "He's doing fairly well, for now." Bedford's son was very sick with a blood disease. "The medications are working well for now, but the doctors have said that he will need a liver transplant within the next few months. We're hoping to get through Christmas before that becomes necessary. He's not the best candidate, from what I'm told, as his blood type and other factors suggest he might have a higher rejection rate than most. But we'll worry about that at it's proper time. So how may I be of service to you today?"

"We have much to discuss." he said, getting to the point of this business meeting now that the required niceties were over. "As one of the most influential... and generous... leaders of Superior Bloodlines, I felt that I should apprise you of the national situation."

Wallace Bedford was extremely proud of the fact that one of his direct ancestors had been a founding member of the Ku Klux Klan in the years just after the Civil War. And even though he lived in New England now, and most of his work was done in Boston and New York, he still yearned for a nation that was free of the pollution of 'undesirables', particularly Blacks.

"Yes." said Bedford. "We're starting to have some trouble. That bastard Deputy Director of the FBI is concentrating totally upon us. We're having to shut down operations in several places because the FBI keeps popping up. Their agents are all too easy to spot, so we lay low until they leave. But it's setting us back, and time grows of the essence."

"Yes, our FBI Deputy Director is not our problem." he said. "He thinks he's king, like Priam within the walls of Troy... but it is his Wildcat with a Crowbar, his Hector, that is our real threat."

"The Iron Crowbar?" said Bedford. He poured them both some more sherry. "Priam is hard to assassinate. He is protected within the walls not of Troy but of Washington, D.C. But the one named Troy, who is protecting him, you believe he is the problem?"

"Oh yes." he said. "I can assure you that if I set my mind to it, Priam would fall. But Hector? the Iron Crowbar?" He shook his head. "That is the luckiest man on the face of this earth. He has somehow escaped multiple assassination attempts. But he will share the fate of Hector: I will drag his dead body behind my chariot until his head falls off his neck."

Bedford could see the feeling, the passion, the anger welling up behind the other man's eyes. He realized that the Iron Crowbar's time on this earth was very limited.

"What is the Iron Crowbar doing now, while you're away and visiting me?" asked Bedford.

"Ah, I have one of my best people keeping him under observation." he said. "He has no idea how deeply I've penetrated the institutions he mistakenly trusts."

"I'm sure. By the way, we do have one question of you." said Bedford. "Why in the world did you try to blow up that nuclear power plant?"

"Ah, that." he said, sipping his sherry with a smile. "First, I really was after the Energy Dynamics directed-energy weapon. But the FBI had it evacuated out of there, so we went for the power plant. That is not a problem, as they'll return the weapon project to Energy Dynamics within a few weeks, and we will simply walk in and take it at our leisure."

He continued: "But unlike what the FBI and the Iron Crowbar believe, the reactor core was not going to explode. But now the FBI is scrambling. They are scared to death of another attack on another facility, and they are having to scatter their forces like a covey of partridge, desperately trying to stop my next move... and they have no earthly idea what that is going to be."

"And what is your next move?" Bedford asked.

He smiled, then was unable to stop himself from chuckling. "Oh, you'll see. In time. Suffice it to say that the niggers will suffer great agony, the God-cursed Jews will feel pain and death that not even the blessed Holocaust could deliver to them, and Superior Bloodlines, as well as other worthy groups of the Elites, will rule the world as it should be, in what the politicians like to call the 'New World Order'."

"And you're right there behind them, in the shadows, like a Spider in the center of a huge web, controlling everything." said Bedford.

"Controlling?" he said. "Not really. I only desire to control my organization, and those things that I can control. I leave the New World Orders to you and your friends of the Elite class. By the way," he said as he drained the last of his sherry, "when the time for your son's transplant comes due, let me know. 'Vauxhall' happens to be one of my most profitable schemes..."

Finis.