The Fed Man (22 page)

He grabbed PJ and lifted him out of the truck, hoisted him up onto his shoulder, and began the hike up the narrow, green-lit trail. When he reached the top of the ridge, he stopped and could hear the whine of the Audi engine as the Fed Man shifted down. He eased the night-vision goggles onto his forehead, allowing him to see the bright halogen lights as the car turned into Schwartz’s driveway. Better hurry, he thought, the games are about to begin in earnest.

Nube began shifting down as he approached and turned into the driveway. He knew about where the trail leading up the ridge began, and he was sure he would be able to spot the perp’s truck. He saw the wide path the perp’s vehicle had made in the thick, prickly brush. He cut the Audi’s engine but left the lights on, thinking that Naldie and Pete would see them and know where he went. He grabbed the flashlight Pete had given him and jumped out of the car. Shining the light into the brush, he saw the old red pickup
truck and for a moment wished he had his FBI 9mm Beretta. Well, he would just have to do without it. Just as he reached the truck, a rock hit the old pickup with such a loud bang it startled Nube and he thought he would become incontinent.

Then the most sickening voice he had ever had the occasion to hear pierced through the quiet night. “Hey, Mr. Fed Man. What’s the matter? Did I scare you? And I thought you FBI guys were so macho!” The hysterical laugh that followed almost caused Nube to vomit. “See you in the pit, Mr. Fed Man. Oh … and don’t worry. So far the boy is doing just fine … so far.” And then came another blood-curdling laugh.

Nube had the urge to yell at him, to tell him to take him and leave the boy alone. But he knew that would be playing right into this pervert’s plan. He turned off his flashlight, clenched his fists, and stared into the black night. He muttered softly, “Get a grip on yourself, Nube. Have you forgotten all your training? Take a breath, count to ten, and think.”

Within moments, he had regained his composure, turned on the flashlight, and slowly began to make his way up the ridge. He knew that to hurry would only make unnecessary noise and potentially cause him to injure himself. Despite his caution, his clothes were being shredded by the thorn-covered brush. When he reached the top of the ridge, he turned off his flashlight, stopped, and peered into the ebony obscurity before him. Somewhere down there was an innocent little boy who, he was realizing, he was developing
some strong feelings for. And he was being held captive by one of the cruelest, sickest men Nube had ever encountered. Off to his right he thought he detected a faint light and wondered if that was where Sam Washburn lived. He was about to turn his flashlight on and try to locate the trail that would lead him into the abyss called Whitsell’s pit, when he heard that voice again.

“Hey, Mr. Fed Man! What’s the matter? Are you afraid of the dark? Are you afraid of me? Or are you beginning to realize that you are no match for me?” Then the blood-curdling, hysterical laugh. “Oh, and by the way, Mr. Fed Man, the boy is beginning to wake up! So why don’t you hurry down so we can finish our game before I finish my game with the boy!”

Nube could feel the angry blush and the short hairs on the back of his neck stiffen. He bit his tongue and would not allow himself to reply. Nube also knew that he was at a distinct disadvantage. Even with a flashlight it was difficult to see. For the perp to have traveled as far as he had while carrying PJ and without any visible light source, Nube concluded that the perp had to be wearing night-vision goggles. Well, he would just have to be even more careful and allow his training and instincts to guide him.

He pulled the tail of his shirt out from his pants, turned the flashlight on again, and held the shirt over the light. Perhaps that would allow him to find his way without it being a beacon. He found the narrow trail leading down into the carved-out, overgrown, rock-laden hole in the ground.

“Careful, Mr. Fed Man! Don’t hurt yourself! Save that for me!” Another burst of vomit-producing laughter was followed by, “We’re waiting for you!”

As Nube began the slow traverse to the base of the gravel pit, he heard a car door slam and thought that Naldie and Pete must have arrived. He wondered why they weren’t being quieter.
There’s no need to announce your arrival to the whole world, and especially to the asshole waiting in the godforsaken basement of this pit
, he thought. He stumbled a few times, catching himself on a rock or on the ground. Twice he reached out when he was losing his balance and grabbed some of the thorny brush, which cut up his hands.

When he reached the bottom, he turned off his light and stood quietly. He thought to himself that he may as well let the little jerk yell at him again; the asshole couldn’t help himself. Nube thought that would at least allow him to judge the perp’s location and distance.

It was only a few moments. “What’s the matter, Mr. Fed Man? Afraid to come any closer? It’s dark down here, isn’t it? Don’t you wish you were as smart as me and brought some night-vision goggles? Please hurry! The boy is starting to wiggle and I really don’t like wigglers!”

Nube guessed him to be about fifty yards ahead and, if he remembered the topography correctly, the perp was approximately where he had deposited the first two victims’ bodies. He pointed in the general direction and said to himself, “You are becoming
predictable, you little perverted piece of shit. Just wait, I’m coming to get you.”

He crouched down, turned the light on, and again covered the end with his shirttail. He thought he could make out some footprints, and he began to slowly inch forward. He had gone about ten feet when he heard Naldie yell from the top of the ridge, “Nube! You down there? Are you okay?”

Instinctively, he looked back and saw the bright light of Naldie’s flashlight. He dropped his head thinking to himself, “Where the hell did you learn how to be a policeman?” When he looked up again the light had been extinguished. Nube smiled just a bit, thinking that Pete must have taken over.

“So, Mr. Fed Man! We have company! Well, the more the merrier! I wonder, do you think Dr. Anthony has enough bags?” Then the laugh, always the sick laugh.

Nube continued his slow trek on the trail through the brush-and rock-covered ground. He knew that he was going to have more than just a few wounds to care for later, but he didn’t feel any pain now. Thinking he heard something just ahead of him, he stopped, quieted his breathing, and waited. He guessed he was only about ten yards from the perp’s body depository site. He turned off his flashlight, stuck it in his rear pocket, and resumed his crawl.

The perp crouched behind a large rock near where he had placed his first two victims’ bodies. He could see the trail and had a great vantage point. He’d be able to see the Fed Man when he
crawled into the open. The boy’s body had been placed close to the bush where he had concealed the log he used to stick his axe into when he was here with the young harlot. The boy wasn’t waking up and he wasn’t wiggling. He was just playing with the Fed Man’s mind, just showing him how much smarter he was than some back-East-trained smart-ass. The half-lip snarl began to grow. He would wait until the Fed Man saw the boy, knowing that he would not be able to control the urge to rush to his side and assess his status. That would be the time to jump up and stick the brand-new axe in his back. He thought, though, that he would take his time with the boy.

Nube stopped crawling. He thought he had come up on a small clearing. He strained his eyes as hard as he could and wished there was just a bit more moonlight than the quarter moon was providing. He was about to stand when he spotted the boy lying about fifteen feet from him. He recognized this area now as where the perp had left the first two bodies. PJ was motionless and, from this distance, Nube couldn’t tell if he was breathing or not. He could feel the perp’s presence and even thought he could smell him. But he couldn’t let PJ just lie there, not knowing if he was hurt or if he was even alive. Casting aside all training and betraying his instincts, he rose slowly and began walking toward the still, small body.

Just like I knew you would. I should have named you Mr. Dumb Ass rather than Mr. Fed Man. You’re mine now, you piece of garbage. Game over and I win
, he thought, as he rose and lifted the axe.

The ear-splitting crack was the loudest sound Nube had ever heard. It scared the hell right out of him and for a moment he thought that it must be what it sounds like when lightning strikes a tree. With the sound echoing throughout the vast expanse of Whitsell’s pit, Nube’s training told him he had just heard a high-powered rifle. The sound was accompanied by a dull thud, followed by what he thought was the release of a large volume of highly pressurized air. As the sound and echoes abated, he could hear the baying of a coonhound in the distance. When he’d heard the shot, he knew it was very close and had dived to the ground. He didn’t stir a muscle until he heard Pete’s familiar voice. “You okay, Nube?”

Rising to one knee, he looked around and then yelled back, “Yeah, sure, Pete. I’m okay.”

“What about the boy?”

“I see him but haven’t checked him yet.”

Then he heard Pete direct his voice to the east. “That you, Sam?”

“Yeah, Pete. It’s me. Got him, didn’t I?” Sam said, more as a statement than a question.

“Don’t know yet, Sam. But here’s what I want you to do. You take Jackson, go to your house, and brew up some of that famous joe of yours. And stay there until I come up there. Got it?”

“Sure, Pete. Coffee will be on.”

Then Pete shone his flashlight overhead and called out, “Nube. Can you see my light?”

“Yeah, I can see it, Pete.”

“Have you got the boy?”

“Yeah, I’ve got him. He’s groggy. He vomited and is scared out of his mind, but he’s okay. The perp is decommissioned.” Waving his high-intensity flashlight in the air he continued, “Just come toward my light.”

Pete turned and looked behind him at Naldie. His boss and dear friend of many years looked scared as hell. “You okay, Chief?”

Naldie took his cap off, wiped his brow on his shirtsleeve, and suddenly turned around, bent over, and vomited repeatedly. When he was finished, he dropped to one knee, pulled his shirttail out of his pants, and wiped his face with it.

Pete walked over and put his hand on Naldie’s shoulder. Handing him his red farmer’s hankie, he said, “Here, Chief. Use this. At least your shirt won’t stink like used leftovers. And don’t worry, I didn’t see or hear a thing.”

Naldie took the handkerchief, stood, and finished wiping his face. Then he turned to Pete. “Want this back?” he asked, as he handed the soiled red handkerchief to Pete.

“Nah, I’ve got more. Besides, if I bring that home I’d catch holy hell or have to answer a lot of questions. It’s best we just leave it here for the varmints to chew on.”

“Thanks, Pete. I’m not sure what just happened to me, but I’d appreciate it, you know, if nobody found out about this.”

“You heard what I said, Chief. I didn’t hear or see a thing. Tell you what, let me give some directions to the pups and then we’ll go find Nube.”

Turning to the south where they had entered the pit, Pete took his radio from his belt. “Byron, you hear me?”

“Yeah, Pete. We can hear you. What’s going on?”

“You’ll know shortly. Now you and Arnie take your car and the chief’s and block off the entry to Schwartz’s driveway and the west entrance to the pit. I’ll get you from there. And tell Doc and Nancy to wait at the west entrance to the pit with you. And you better call Dr. Anthony and tell him we’ll need him out here. While you’re at it, you better call Father Paulo also. He’ll do more good for this guy than anyone else. Now skedaddle.”

“Ten-four, Pete.”

Turning again to Naldie, he asked, “You doing okay now, Chief?”

“Sure, Pete. I’m okay now.”

Pete took off his cap, wiped his brow, and said, “Well, you’re the chief and supposed to be in charge. You want to take over?”

Wearing a weak smile, Naldie replied, “You’re doing just fine, Deputy Mohr. I’ll follow your lead.”

As he entered the small opening, Pete saw Nube sitting against a large stone, holding and rocking the young boy, who was sobbing. Pete stopped and looked around. He recognized this as the site
where this now dead perp had left his first two victims. He walked over to Nube and flicked his flashlight beam toward PJ. “He all right?”

“He’s still a little groggy. I think he’s most upset that he vomited and wet himself.”

Nube slowly stood and walked over to the perp’s body. While Pete held his light on the body they assumed was Darius Levinson, Nube nudged him over with his shoe. He was still clutching the axe in his hand. Pete directed his light to the face that had a snarl frozen in place.

Giving him another nudge, Nube said, “You cruel son of a bitch. May you burn deep in the fires.”

He turned and started walking away. Pete directed his light to the path leading out of the pit and said, “We’ll come with you. I think there’s someone up there who wants to see her boy. And you.”

Nancy saw the flashlight beams coming toward her and knew that it was all over. Not knowing the status of her son, however, she let out a sob and wrapped both arms around herself and began to rock side to side. Doc, who was standing next to her, took off his jacket, placed it on her shoulders, and then put his arm around her. He leaned his head close to her and softly said, “He’s all right, Nancy. They’re both all right.”

When they were close enough for Nancy see that Nube was carrying PJ, she started to run toward them. Suddenly, she stopped and put both hands to her mouth. Nube continued walking until he was right in front of her. He smiled and said, “It’s over, and PJ is okay. He’s a little groggy. He vomited and wet himself, but he’s okay. PJ, your mom’s here.”

PJ slowly turned. Seeing his mom, he reached out to her. Nancy took her son and held him tightly. Sobbing, she rocked back and forth, saying over and over, “PJ, thank God you’re all right.”

PJ lifted his head from his mother’s shoulder and turned toward Nube. “Mommy, Nube saved my life. He’s my hero.”