The Assassin's Trail Page 3

  After deciding on a California pinot noir, Kruger said, “I called a few old friends while you were at the office today. It appears I wouldn’t have a problem finding a teaching position. In fact, the head of the Psychology Department at OU wants me to fly there Wednesday for an interview.”

  Stephanie looked at Kruger with concern, “Oklahoma City? Sean, are you sure?”

  “I told him I wasn’t at that point yet, I was just testing the waters. I also talked to a buddy with the Missouri Highway Patrol. He’s a captain and wants to discuss an opening they have in the investigation department. So there appears to be lots of opportunities out there.”

  As she took another sip of wine a slight smile appeared. Kruger continued, “There’s one more option. I could ask for a transfer to the KC office. I wouldn’t have to travel as much and we could start making plans.”

  “I like that idea better. I don’t think you’d be happy working somewhere besides the Bureau.”

  “I don’t know. I originally wanted to teach. But I was younger then, I got bored with it, and applied to the FBI. I’m not sure about the Highway Patrol job. I’d still have to travel to various parts of the state. After our talk last night, I’m not sure I want to travel at all. I’m tired of being away from you.”

  Stephanie placed her hand on his arm, scooted her chair closer and leaned her head on his shoulder. “I know, the more I think about it, we should have had that conversation a long time ago.” She was quiet for a minute, then said, “A friend at the office gave me the phone number for a local adoption agency this morning. I called, and they have an opening on Wednesday. We have an appointment at nine.”

  Kruger nodded his head, “Kind of figured you’d start the process. Don’t we need to be married first?”

  She shrugged her shoulders, “Not sure, guess we’ll find out Wednesday.” She paused and looked up at him. “Was that a proposal, mister? If it was, it wasn't very romantic.”

  .Kruger chuckled, “Now when did you start wanting a romantic proposal?”

  “Just because you don’t think it’s necessary, doesn’t mean I don’t.”

  “Hmm... Well, how’s this?”

  Kruger reached into the inside pocket of his navy blue blazer and pulled out a small box. Scooting his chair back away from the table, he got down on one knee and took her left hand. “Stephanie Harris, will you marry me?” He opened the small box to reveal a one-carat engagement ring.

  Stephanie looked at Kruger with surprise. A tear appeared in her right eye. She ignored it as it slowly trickled down her cheek. All she could manage to do was smile and rapidly nod her head. When she finally found her voice, she said, “Yes, Sean, yes I will.”

  Unbeknownst to Sean and Stephanie, other diners at the tables around them had been observing the activities of the proposal. When she nodded and said yes, everyone burst into applause of congratulations. Kruger was surprised at the outburst and slightly embarrassed. All he could do was nod and sit back down in his chair. Max noticed the commotion and hurried over. Realizing what Sean was doing, he too joined the applause.

  After all the congratulations were said, the other diners went back to their private conversations and once again ignored the newly engaged couple. Stephanie stared at the ring now on her finger. “When did you get this, Sean? It fits perfectly and it’s so beautiful. How did you know my size?”

  “Stef, we at the FBI do not reveal sources.”

  She laughed, took her glass of wine and raised it. “To us, a new beginning for two old friends.”

  Kruger nodded, raised his glass and lightly touched hers. A light clink could barely be heard in the din of the restaurant.

  Chapter 5

  Southern Alabama

  Monday

  “How much for this one?” Thomas Cooper said as he opened the driver’s side door of a white 2008 Ford Econoline van?

  “Now there’s an excellent vehicle. This baby only has a hundred and forty thousand miles on it, barely broke in. The manager of our service department told me he’d never seen one this well maintained.” The overweight salesman smiled as he followed Cooper around the vehicle.

  “I didn’t ask about its pedigree. How much?”

  The salesmen paused, a little taken aback by his new customer’s attitude. But he recovered quickly. “Ninety five.”

  Cooper shook his head. “It’s almost ten years old. That’s too much.”

  The salesman shrugged. “Age doesn’t matter on these fleet vans. It’s how they’re maintained. This one…”

  Cooper cut him off and said, “Seven and new tires.”

  “Can’t do the new tires, but I can let you have it for nine.”

  “I’m paying cash, dude. Seven and new tires.”

  The salesman stared at Cooper for a moment, then at the van. “Make it seventy-five and you’ve got a deal.”

  One hour later, Thomas Cooper drove the newly purchased van off the used truck lot with a 30-day temporary tag, four new tires and no intention of registering or licensing the van. Its purpose was to provide a means of transferring his equipment from his small farm in southern rural Alabama to Kansas City. His personal car was currently parked in the long term parking area at Hartsfield-Jackson International in Atlanta. If everything worked according to plan, he would be retrieving his car in a week.

  Cooper was a veteran of Iraq and Afghanistan. He had a Purple Heart and an Honorable Discharge. The Purple Heart was from being the only survivor of an IED explosion that destroyed the Humvee he was driving. He had watched his two closest buddies die in front of his eyes waiting to be medevaced out of the explosion site. It was later discovered that all of the armor plates protecting the Humvees in theater had been manufactured with inadequate strength. It was a problem the Army eventually corrected, but too late for his buddies. Cooper didn’t blame the Army; he blamed the company that supplied the armor plates. More specifically, he blamed the men who put profit above protecting the guys fighting for their country.

  His second and third tour found him deactivating IEDs. He had become an expert in explosives. It became his mission to prevent more buddies from being killed. Now he was a civilian. Not too many IEDs needed to be dismantled in his part of Alabama. With employment hard to find, he lived on his deceased grandparent’s farm and worked part-time for an excavating contractor. To fill the rest of his time, he served as a volunteer fireman.

  But the rage and anger remained.

  He met Sargent Norman Ortega on his second tour. During their off duty times, the discussions always came back to their anger at the men who were profiting from the war. Ortega was a kindred spirit, his anger even greater than Cooper’s. Six months ago, Sargent Ortega had called him with a proposal, one he readily agreed to. His trip to Kansas City would channel his anger toward a specific action.

  It was early afternoon when Cooper backed the van up to the largest of three storage buildings on his farm near Atmore, Alabama. Two hours later, the equipment and supplies he needed in Kansas City were loaded and stored for the thirteen-hour drive. The last task he had to complete was to attach license plates stolen from a wrecked Ford van in a U-Haul lot two weeks ago in Montgomery. He wasn’t concerned about someone reporting the plates stolen. The van was waiting for the insurance claim to be settled before being hauled off, which would not happen for several more weeks. By then, it wouldn’t matter.

  He glanced at his wrist watch. Memphis was seven hours away and the halfway mark of his drive. If he left now, he could be there by nine, grab some BBQ and be in a strip joint before 10 p.m.

  Chapter 6

  Kansas City, MO

  Monday

  Stephanie left early to turn her vacation request into Human Resources and finish up a project. Her plan was to be back by noon. Kruger waited until 10 a.m. on the east coast to call Seltzer, plenty of time for his boss to finish his Monday morning briefing with Deputy Director Paul Stumpf and return to his office.

  His call was answered on the fourth ring. “I
didn't think you were going to call until tomorrow.”

  “Well, Alan, since we didn’t go to war with Israel over the weekend, I figured the pressure was off.”

  Alan laughed. “Sorry about the theatrics Saturday. I was pissed and took it out on you.”

  “I could tell. Anyway, I called to discuss something with you.”

  Seltzer didn’t answer for a few moments. “Okay, I hope this isn't about you quitting or something similarly stupid.”

  “No, I’m not quitting. But those personal matters I spoke about were true. Stephanie and I are going to get married this coming Saturday. Afterward I want to start the process of a transfer to the KC office, that's all.”

  Kruger heard a chuckle. Alan said, “Kind of figured that might be what you were planning. Congratulations. Will it be a big wedding?”

  “No, just my son Brian, Stephanie’s sister and her husband. We’re trying to keep it low key.”

  “Sounds like a good way to get married. We had way too many people at mine. My wife couldn’t say no to anyone.” He was quiet for several moments. “About the transfer. Do you know who’s managing the KC office now?”

  The comment concerned Kruger. The last time he had been there, the office was headed by a friend from his academy days. “Isn’t Charlie Brewer the Special Agent in Charge?”

  “No, he was promoted. Mint Dollar was named to that position about a month ago.”

  “Good for Charlie. What office did he get?”

  “San Francisco. It’s a great opportunity for him, more agents and more visibility.”

  “I'll have to call him and congratulate him.” Kruger was stalling, trying to think through what his next move should be.

  “You still want that transfer?”

  “Well, let me think about it. Mint Dollar and I don’t agree on, let's say, management styles.”

  Seltzer laughed. “Sean, you're being polite. The guy’s a jerk and has no management skills. But the director likes him, or at least that’s the talk around here.”

  Kruger was quiet again. He took a deep breath and finalized his decision. “Alan, I won’t work for him, or with him, for that matter. He’s an idiot.”

  “I agree. Is this about you cutting back on traveling?”

  “That’s all it’s about. I’ve been doing too much of it lately. Maybe it’s time for me to really consider retiring.”

  “Sean, don’t make a rash decision just yet. Let me work on my end to see what I can do to slow down the traveling. I need to keep you on my team.”

  “Okay, Alan, I’d appreciate it. I'll talk to you soon.”

  Ending the call he went back to the kitchen to pour another cup of coffee. After returning to the balcony, he sat down, stared at the early morning activity on The Plaza, and started thinking.

  Of all the people in the agency to be managing the Kansas City office, why did it have to be Franklin “Mint” Dollar? The man was incompetent, uninspiring, lazy, and an ass-kisser. The last time he and Kruger had worked together, Dollar almost caused Kruger to end his career with the agency.

  Almost seven years ago, Kruger was working as a consultant to the Salt Lake City police department on the investigation of the torture and murders of seven young women. At the time, Dollar was working in the local FBI office and forced himself onto the case as it started drawing national media coverage. All the evidence Dollar had pointed to a drifter currently under arrest. Dollar was ready to close the case, but Kruger did not believe the homeless man was even capable of committing the crimes.

  Despite strong disagreement from both Kruger and the local police chief, Dollar scheduled a press conference to announce they had captured the suspect, and the case was officially closed.

  Two days later, another young woman disappeared and was found dead, tortured like the others.

  The morning after the eighth girl was found, Kruger was waiting for Dollar in the Utah FBI office. When Dollar entered, Kruger said, “Dollar, you're an idiot.”

  He stared at Kruger. “What are you talking about?”

  “The guy you have in custody is totally innocent of these crimes. He can barely read and has the mental capacity of a 10-year-old.”

  “He’s our guy.”

  “The person who committed these murders planned them with great care and forethought. The guy you have in jail can’t even plan his next meal, let alone a complex crime.”

  Dollar’s face grew crimson. He screamed at Kruger, “Your fucking psychological mumbo jumbo hasn't produced one damn suspect. At least I've been doing something.”

  Shaking his head, Kruger said. “All you've accomplished is to embarrass the agency with this ridiculous arrest. The man isn't capable of this type of violence.”

  “Oh, the great Sean Kruger. The Bureau’s savior and seer of all men’s souls, I suppose you know who it is. Tell me, who is it?”

  Kruger was tired of the exchange. He stood, headed toward the door and opened it. Before he walked out, he turned back to face Dollar.

  “It's a cop.”

  The next night, a police officer was caught with a drugged young woman just before he assaulted her.

  Dollar held a press conference the next day and took full credit for the arrest and closing the case. Completely disgusted, Kruger left Utah, flew straight to Washington and filed a formal report critical of Agent Dollar. When he was told Dollar had the support of upper agency management, Kruger offered his resignation.

  What followed was a typical agency cover up. Kruger was offered a promotion and a promise he would never have to work with the man again. He demanded Dollar at least be reprimanded. Needless to say, that didn't happen either.

  Now the incompetent Neanderthal was in charge of the Kansas City Office.

  Well, that made his decision easy. He would retire. He really didn’t want to work for an organization that would promote someone like Franklin Dollar. Smiling, he stood up, walked to his bedroom, put on his running clothes, and left the condo.

  ***

  Stephanie walked through Kruger's door at exactly 12:30 p.m. She had changed into jeans and sweatshirt and looked like she was ready for a vacation. She smiled and said, “Hi, how’d the phone call go?”

  Kruger was sitting on his sofa reading. He looked up, removed his reading glasses, and said, “Not worth a damn. They promoted someone to the Kansas City SAC position I refuse to work for.”

  Snuggling up next to him on the sofa, Kruger put his arm around her and kissed her. She said, “So, now what do we do?”

  “I changed my mind, I’m going to retire. I’ll let them know officially next week. I’ll work through June, then I’m done.”

  She nodded. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

  “Yes.” He paused for a few seconds. “I’m tired of putting up with people like Dollar. Seltzer said he would work something out so I could stay in his department and not travel. But I think it was BS, just trying to pacify me. It's time for a change.”

  Placing her arm around his chest, she held him tighter. “As long as you're comfortable with the decision.”

  “I am.” Kruger took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’ll listen to what Seltzer comes up with, and if it’s a good proposal, I'll think about it. But I'm ready to move on.” He stood up and looked at her. Smiling, he reached for her hand as she stood up. “What's on our agenda this week?”

  With an impish grin, Stephanie said, “Let's go get our marriage license this afternoon.”

  “Good plan.”

  Chapter 7

  Kansas City, MO

  Friday

  “I’ll bet you a dollar, Brian and his girlfriend show up around dinnertime,” Kruger said while putting fresh sheets on the bed in the guest bedroom.

  Stephanie was cleaning the small bathroom attached to the bedroom and replacing dusty towels with fresh ones. “Of course they’ll show up at dinner time. Where do you want to take them?”

  “Well, I thought about O’Dowd’s, but we have such a busy
day tomorrow we probably won’t get much of a chance to sit down and talk. Besides, on Friday night, the place can be loud. Not real conducive to getting to know your son’s girlfriend. One I didn’t know existed.”

  Stephanie peeked around the door of the bathroom and looked at Kruger. “Are you still mad about not knowing?”

  “Not really. He’s too much like me to be mad. More jealous than anything.”

  “Why would you be jealous?”

  “He told you, not me.” Kruger smiled at her and finished fluffing the pillows. “What do you say we fix dinner here? We can have a quiet evening and get to know this young lady?”

  “That would be perfect. I may have known about her, but I’ve never met her either. Now, the age old question of having dinner at home. What are we going to fix?”

  ***

  They arrived just after 6 p.m. Friday, having left Columbia after Brian’s last class of the day. Brian was the spitting image of his father, just over six feet tall, slender and muscled like a swimmer. He wore his dark brown hair long and pulled back into a short pony tail. His face was slender, like his father’s. Where Kruger had crystal blue eyes, Brian’s were hazel and changed shades with the prevailing light. The father and son looked more like twins, except for the age difference. Kruger’s hair was short, which allowed a small amount of gray to show at his temples. He also had the beginning of worry lines on his forehead and around his eyes.

  Brian embraced his father and Stephanie, then introduced his companion. “This is Michele Brickman,” he said with a proud smile. “We’ve known each other since our sophomore year.” He was holding her hand as he introduced her, but released it when he continued, “Michele, this is my dad, Sean, and his fiancée, Stephanie Harris.”

  Michele smiled, shook both their hands, “Brian has told me so much about both of you, it’s really nice to finally meet you.” She was a slender woman, five inches shorter than Brian, with long brunette hair, emerald green eyes that sparkled in the lights coming in the room from The Plaza. She was pretty in a subtle way, an honest beauty, not enhanced with make-up. Her smile lit up the room, displaying a natural confidence in herself. Kruger admired this in people, and he liked her immediately.