The Eightfold Fence Ch. 02

"Well, that's all over now, is what I mean to say." Wellman said. "And we're getting more grant money and more contributions than ever."

"That's good." Tanya said, then played her own subtle gambit. "I'm sure the University will be very sad when you retire."

Wellman laughed, again sounding more sinister than he intended. He then lay back and sighed. "You know, my dear, I once had dreams of retiring and taking you away with me to some island where we'd live happily ever after. Just leaving it all behind."

"Divorcing your wife?" Tanya asked, more skeptical than hopeful.

"Yes." said Wellman. "But then I realized that I don't ever want to leave this place, this University."

"And your wife?" Tanya asked.

"Is entertaining trophy wives at her luncheons..." Wellman said with that evil grin of his, rolling himself back on top of Tanya. "...while I'm fucking your sexy brains out in her bed." Aided by the Viagra he'd taken, Wellman's throbbing member was painfully hard again. He eased between Tanya's shapely legs and sank his turgid meat balls-deep into his lovely mistress's sopping wet quim...

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

I entered the Federal Building in Town at 10:00am Sunday morning and was escorted to the area that only a few knew contained the FBI rooms. Jack Muscone was there, having called me in.

"Okay, Don," he said, "the autopsy was done last night. Blood tests are not back yet, but the examination shows that the woman had her throat slit from behind, then the other stab wounds were made as she lay dying on the ground. Fiber evidence from the fingernails but no biological tissue, so no DNA. There was no blood in the car nor the woman's purse, so the perp did not search the car nor the purse. The keys were not in the car, nor in the woman's purse or hands, nor found at the crime scene. They're missing."

"I again commend your attention to that. It's interesting." I said. I began thinking about it. I knew there was one piece missing, that it was on the edge of my vision... but I wasn't fully seeing it yet.

Jack then said "No gun nor other weapon found, either. By the way... I know you didn't want to talk with Dr. Karpathian in the car with us, but I thought about who the Director's mole must be. I'm guessing that one or more of the Forestry Service agents was more than he appeared to be."

"Yes, that's my guess, too." I said. "And I think I can be specific: it was the guy who noticed the family resemblance between myself and Todd. You may also have noticed that Todd took pains to immediately greet me as 'Commander Troy' instead of 'Uncle Don' yesterday. Todd did not want them to know he and I were related, so unless Michael Burke told them, they didn't know about the Troy family connection."

"Yeah, you're right." said Muscone. "I thought that was odd, about Todd, and you've just explained it. Anyway, I've been researching the girl Stanton, who was known as 'Dawn Starrett' by everyone in her professional world. She and Cherie Ward were pretty good friends, worked the same parties."

"Like Senator Nathan Allen's party, the night he unfortunately had that heart attack and died." I said, looking right at Muscone. He looked right back at me.

"Yes, they often worked high-level parties, just like that one, where the clients were charged very high levels of money. Not what your average john is going to pay a back street hooker." Jack said.

"I'm thinking more of the particular clientele as opposed to their financial resources." I replied. "Politicians... billionaires..."

"You definitely like to think about certain things." Jack said drily. "By the way, Cherie's working name is 'Cherie', just one name; she never uses her last name. At any rate, my agents Speer and Escobar are going to try to quietly interview some of her other friends, hopefully without arousing too much notice from the local City Police."

"A wise idea." I said.

Muscone continued: "I'm also having my guys hit up a few of our own C.I.s, but so far we've gotten nothing on Stanton. We don't think she was a C.I. like Cherie is. We know prostitutes are used all the time and paid well to spy on their customers and get intel, and in fact that was the first thing I thought of when I heard Michael and Todd Burke's names... someone had hired women to get knowledge from them."

I replied "I'm sure the FBI would consider the occupants of the Burke cabin that evening to be major suspects, and they might well be right. But I have my reasons for thinking they are not involved, at least not directly."

Jack said. "So, what is your scenario? And don't tell me 'not enough data'..." I smiled at that.

"Not enough data, for damn sure." I replied, grinning, then said "Okay, I'm visualizing as if I were the killer. First, if it were planned ahead of time, or if she had a contract on her life, I doubt I'd kill her in a remote forest, and so close to the cabin where she was staying. I'd just kill her in the City and throw her in a dumpster, and the local Police call it a whore getting killed by a bad john."

"Well, there's the 'Vince Foster' angle." Muscone said, reminding me of the time that President Clinton's aide Vince Foster had been found dead in a National Park. "Kill her there, and it's the Park Police or Forestry Service doing the investigation, an investigation they're hardly equipped to do. Like the Vince Foster case at Ft. Marcy Park."

"Yes, but in this case the FBI itself was called right in." I said. "So that means-"

I was interrupted by a knock on the door. FBI Agent Lindy Linares was at the door, her mane of curly black hair on top of her head almost exactly matching that of the woman behind her: Dr. Bonnie Karpathian. Lindy said that Bonnie had some information to share with us, and Jack had Bonnie come in. Bonnie gave me a bright smile as she sat down, and I worked hard to keep my loins from heating up at the memory of the previous evening.

"I did a quick bit of data crunching on crimes in the Lake Amengi-Nunagen area," Bonnie cheerfully said, "as well as potential serial crimes in remote lakefront or camps. There are a few copycats of the serial killers in the movies, and I dismissed those. There have been a few unsolved murders in the Amengi-Nunagen W.M.A. One was an FBI agent, found shot dead execution-style. The FBI appears to not have done as extensive an investigation as I would've thought they'd have done, and the few case notes I could find suggested general speculation of a Mob hit. The FBI's data on the victim, meaning their data on him as one of their agents, is also surprisingly thin and was hard for me to get; perhaps you'll have better luck."

Bonnie gave Jack Muscone the file of data. He looked at it briefly, then sat it on his desk, and I noted he did not hand it to me. I also had seen Jack's facial expression change when Bonnie mentioned it, and now he was working very, very hard to keep his face set in stone. I had an idea that Teresa Croyle could tell me exactly what was in that file, but I let that go as Bonnie continued talking.

"One of the dead bodies was a known junior-level mob associate." Bonnie said. "He was shot, but he was given a 'Columbian necktie', and the FBI thought that he had crossed the line with his bosses and was given his just reward by them and simply dumped in the remote location. There was another body: it was discovered by hikers and was decomposed, having been there some time. It was not clear if this person was murdered or just died out there. The Forestry Service was suspicious only because there was no ID of any kind anywhere near where the body was found, so they think it might have been left there."

"But you found nothing that ties this case to any of these others?" Jack said.

"No, Jack," Bonnie said, "except the possibility that this girl was a prostitute and the Mob has dumped bodies up in that area before."

"No, this girl was murdered up there, not brought there dead." I said. "Tell you guys what... Bonnie, I appreciate very much the information you've worked to get us. But for now I think we should just find out information and data that we can, and put the puzzle pieces together. I'm going to go talk to Todd and Jeanine, privately, as a family member, see if they can tell me something usable."

"Don..." Jack said, getting my attention, "be cautious on this one. I thought the Director was calling off the dogs to keep other investigations from being compromised, but that may not be the case. I found out that he really is bringing in a special team, and I didn't find that out from him. He may have shut it down because you were there and your family may potentially be involved."

I just nodded. This was a mess, I thought to myself.

Part 6 - Sheriff Daniel Allgood

"Now this is the one..." Cindy Ross said with a sigh, "that I absolutely cannot believe. Daniel Allgood. Longtime chief of Internal Affairs. Don put Daniel up for Sheriff instead of himself. Daniel is married to Don's ex-wife, who is my business partner, and Melina's a pretty sharp cookie when it comes to judging people."

Phyllis just nodded as Cindy continued "If this guy is the master criminal, then it's the best con job in the history of crime. I can't help but think Daniel just happened to be in the room when Don's conversation happened."

"Yes, of course you could be right," said Phyllis, "but that's what is called the 'rub' about this criminal: no one even knew of his existence until Don began to figure it out. Everyone was thinking Mr. Wargrave was behind it all."

"Phyllis..." Cindy said, finally bringing up the uncomfortable subject, "do you think Don might be wrong about this? Maybe it is Wargrave, or maybe Don is on the wrong path completely?"

"Oh my, I certainly don't know." Phyllis said. "Don is a confident man, but he's also careful and doesn't want to waste his or our time on wild goose chases. I don't think he'd have told you what he did if he did not believe it himself..."

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

On Monday morning, January 12th, I was standing in front of the desk in my anteroom, getting my new assistant Helena French settled in. I'd introduced her to Paulina and Paulina's assistant (with whom Helena was sharing the anteroom), and was about to take her on the grand tour of the Station when Sheriff Daniel Allgood politely knocked on the open door to the hallway.

"Sheriff, come on in." I said. "This is my new assistant, Helena French. Helena, this is the new Sheriff in Town, Daniel Allgood."

"Nice to meet you." said Daniel, shaking Helena's hand across the desk as she stood up to greet him. Helena was wearing a white dress with blue polka-dots, a blue belt and matching high heel blue pumps. She looked delicious, and I knew that she was from our previous sexual encounters as part of the 'Libertines' group.

"Don and I are also brothers-in-law." Daniel said. "Our wives are sisters."

"Ohhhh..." said Helena, looking at me. "I did not know that."

"Neither did they, for years." I said. "I haven't really made a point to tell everyone, but it's not a secret in any way, either."

"So Sheriff, what other secrets about my new boss should I know?" Helena said with a mischievous smile. Helena had a lovely smile. She was in her 40s, wore her light brown hair in a 'Princess Diana' style, and was generally quiet and serious with these flashes of warm humor.

"Oh, you're going to hear many secrets while you're here." said Daniel, getting serious. "And I know the Iron Crowbar hired you because he trusts you with those secrets."

"Certainly." Helena said. Message received and understood, I could see in her eyes.

"Don, can you come to the Chief's office in ten minutes?" Daniel said. "Something important has come up..."

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

It was important. It was staggering. And it was not unexpected.

"Yes sir." said Captain Leslie Charles, sitting next to me in the chairs facing the Chief's desk, Sheriff Allgood behind the desk. "I've put in the papers to retire February 1st." I groaned as Captain Charles replied "I appreciate your sentiment, sir, but it really is time for me to go."

"I hate it, but I can understand it." I said. "You and Chief Griswold were close."

"Yes sir." said Charles. "The Chief and I were together for many years. But that's not the only reason I'm retiring. Now don't get me wrong, gentlemen, I think the Chief did the right thing, and really knew what he was doing, when he promoted you to Commander and put you in charge of everything. And I think your Detectives are a great bunch of Officers, and you and they are doing well in getting good Uniformed officers into places of responsibility. I also think you, Sheriff Allgood, have a lot of promise and will do very well... as long as you get the hell out of the way and let this man solve the crimes for you."

Allgood smiled as Charles paused, then continued: "But precincts, and the dividing of my forces, has pretty much made me obsolete, Commander. It's a young man's game... your game now."

"Well, Captain," I said, "you're not obsolete and never will be. But I understand how you feel, and in truth I've been observing you and I'm not totally surprised that this day has finally come. All I can say is 'thank you' for helping me since I came to the Force, and for all you did to make this the best Police Force anywhere."

"It's been a great honor working with you and these great young men and women." said Captain Charles, trying not to to get emotional, I could see. "At least... at least I got to see my son come on to the Force. If your son follows in your footsteps, you'll understand what I'm feeling now. You too, Sheriff." Daniel nodded.

"Yes, and your son a great part of our SWAT Team." I said. "The height of professionalism and setting the example. I only hope my son will grow up to be like that." Captain Charles gave the closest thing to a smile for him at hearing the praise for his son.

"So let me ask you this." said Sheriff Allgood. "Any ideas of who you want to replace you in command of the Uniformed Division?"

"With precincts, I'm not sure my position is needed anymore." said Charles. I remembered that The-Powers-That-Be carved out the position just for Charles, as he refused to take any position that did not have him with his 'fellow uniformed officers', as he would say.

"The position is not going away." I said. "The Sheriff and I have made sure of that with the Council. It might not be a full Captain in the slot, but it'll be someone. And we do want to hear your ideas on who to put in there."

"The guy who I think will do the best job," said Charles, "who can go around to the different precincts and keep the officers in all of them in line... is not on our Police Force today." He told me the name he was thinking of, a name that did not surprise me, and one of which I wholly approved.

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

As the Iron Crowbar and his Team were solving the crimes of a murdered doctor and pharmacist, Police Chief Harold Malone was looking over the landscape as he drove along the paved, two-lane road. Flat land, peanut farms, cotton farms, farms as far as the eye could see. Boring as hell.

The job was boring, too, but Malone knew that the job was not why he was here. It was his 'extracurricular' duties that were important. The lines of communication had been established to bring in and support one group of drug suppliers, to keep the blacks well supplied with narcotics, and also to distribute into the Southeast... more traditional inroads were being found and interdicted by the Feds.

Now he was now going to a meeting to establish something different. He turned onto a dirt road that went between two farms towards a line of trees that denoted the 'river', which was not much more than a wide, shallow creek, but was the biggest ribbon of water in the area. There was an old barn near the tree line, dilapidated and about to fall down.

He drove his car back behind the barn, where it could not be seen from the road. Stepping inside the dark structure, he could only hear the wind whistling and the creaks of the old boards of the empty barn.

Well, not quite empty, he noted. There was a metal folding chair sitting right there in front of him, about 25 feet inside the opening. It was obviously meant for him to sit there. He looked around, seeing no booby traps above the chair, but he still took it and moved it five feet before sitting down.

He waited, the ten minutes seeming interminable, listening for the sound of a car to drive up but hearing none.

"Hello, Chief Malone." said the voice. Malone just about jumped out of his skin, and was even more shocked when he saw who it was that had come into the barn: it was Henry R. Wargrave himself.

He saw no one else, but that meant nothing: Wargrave would never just come here alone, so someone was out there watching his back.

Wargrave opened another metal chair and placed it where he'd be sitting facing Malone's right side at a right angle; Malone couldn't go for his service weapon without Wargrave seeing it, and the angle was odd for Malone to try that even if he wanted to. Wargrave was a very experienced man at dealings of this kind.

Wargrave further proved it by bringing a device out of his pocket. I was a device that would kill any chance of their conversation being recorded, a very similar device to the one the Iron Crowbar reportedly had, Malone thought. Okay, this is is something big, he surmised.

"How are you doing down here in Alabama?" Wargrave asked.

"You want the truth, or do you want me to tell you what you want to hear?" Malone said.

"You're bored, I understand that." Wargrave said. "It won't be too long before we can get you to a more populated area. Would you like to be in a college town again? Auburn? Tuscaloosa? Athens, Georgia? Gainesville, Florida?"

"Knoxville, Tennessee." Malone said. "Not that I really want to go to a college town, but at least Rocky Top has rocks... and hills. I'm sick and tired of flat land. Being here reminds me how nice it was to have hills near the Town, like the ridge the Iron Crowbar's house is on."

"The house that burned to the ground?" Wargrave said. Malone's face registered his shock.

"It did?" Malone gasped, then before he could stop himself he said "You did that?"

"Hell no." Wargrave said. "I don't kill children. It was a huge mistake by the person that did it, someone you really have no idea about. I'm not really happy with the instigator over it, either. But enough of that for now. What I've come to you for, Harold, is to offer you a deal. A serious and good deal that could make both of us a lot of money. A lot of money."

"I'm listening." said Malone.

"I know you're very good at arranging and overseeing transportation of certain products." Wargrave said. "I am setting up hubs of operations to bring my favorite products, arms, into areas of the United States where they're going to be needed soon."

"For what?"

"For the coming race wars." Wargrave said, beginning to work Malone's weak spot. "My clients were moving slowly, but they see that the enemies of good white men and women are being constantly threatened by favoritism towards minorities, by importing more and more illegal aliens. My clients believe that the other side wants to gin up race wars... and my clients want them to be totally shocked at the sheer number of arms at our disposal."

Harold Malone had long been a white supremacist, but until now he had not considered the scope of what was going on. Henry R. Wargrave was not just a national player, he was one of the "Big Boyz" internationally. He was a billionaire because he had sold arms to groups all over the world, often to both sides in the same conflict. And now he was actually wanting to smuggle arms into the United States! Geez...