The Road to Justice/Sins of the Son combo pack - A John Fowler Novel (John Fowler (Books 1 & 2)) (71 page)

NY FBI Building

Chapter 97

             
Dr.  Freeman was in his office when he received the text that changed his life.   The text simply contained two words, All clear.  Stephen wasn’t sure how to act.  For the past twenty years he had been under Duck’s thumb.  There was a time in Stephen’s life when he loved to bet on the ponies.  Stephen knew he had devised a system in which he could never lose; until he did.  He kept trying to win money to pay back his bookie, but it never worked.  He started sports betting and for a while Stephen was catching up, until the “earthquake series” in the 90s.  Stephen knew he could never pay off what he owed, and so did Duck. 

Robert Mariotti, previously known as The Duck.
  Today he was known as the alleged head of organized crime, but before that he was a loan shark.  Duck was a genius who knew how to collect on the vig, or interest on a loan.  Duck used his clients to get information that he could turn into a profit.  Sometimes he loaned one of his clients out in return for a payment.  Duck would put a percentage of that payment toward the principal of the loan, creating a win-win for all parties; at least that was how it was originally described to Stephen.

Stephen thought he had gotten out of debt to Duck a few years ago when he finally found a bank that was willing to give Stephen a loan to pay back the loan shark.  What Stephen didn’t know at the time, and soon found out, was the president of the bank was in Duck’s pocket.  Stephen had almost given up hope of ever getting out from under all the money he owed.

Over the years Stephen noticed that he was doing things that in the beginning of their arrangement he would have never agreed to.  This had been Stephen’s last job, and he was grateful.  He was sure that his actions in Trip’s office a few nights ago had led to the death of Trip’s girlfriend. 

Stephen picked up his hat and gathered his papers.  Tomorrow the orders would come down that Stephen was to be transferred.  Stephen didn’t know who Duck owned in the hierarchy of the FBI, but he was absolutely sure that there was someone.  Stephen was scared John was on to him, and the sooner he got out of New York, the better.  He went to the door, opened and took one last look around the office.  Stephen shook his head; he would be back tomorrow to clean up, it wasn’t like this was the last time he would see this office.  Stephen closed the door to his New York office for the last time.

Dr. Freeman started across
the
parking garage floor.  As he was walking, he noticed there was a van parked near the security camera.  He found it odd that the workmen left the camera without having it fixed.  Stephen shrugged.  With budgets being constantly scrutinized and gone through with fine tooth combs, he really wasn’t surprised, but he did find it odd.  As he got to his car, he got the feeling that someone was watching him.  Stephen looked around, but didn’t see anyone.  There were very few cars left in the parking lot.  Stephen chuckled, with only a handful of cars in the lot; one would be parked right next to his.  Stephen paused before he opened the door to his car.  He had a nagging suspicion that someone was under the vehicle parked next to his.  He got in the car quickly, locked the doors, and looked down toward the car beside him.  He saw no movement.  Stephen chuckled and leaned back in his seat.  He blew out a sigh.  That’s when the gloved hand covered his mouth and nose.

             
Stephen was struggling.  His air was being cut off by the hand and now an arm snaked across his neck.  He felt hot breath against his neck.  Stephen was seeing black spots.  His mind spun.  Then he heard a voice.

             
“Steve, ole buddy, I really hate to have to do this . . . but I have to send a message to your boss.  NO ONE!!!  And I mean NO ONE crosses me!!”

             
Stephen tried to answer, to no avail.  Suddenly Stephen felt sweet air rush into his lungs.  Then Stephen felt nothing as his neck cracked. 

             
“When are people going to learn?”  Bruce asked to the dead body in the front seat of the car.  “When are they going to learn?”

             
Bruce hummed to himself.  He got out of the car, walked over
to
the van and opened the door.  The smell of gasoline reeked out of the van; it was saturated inside.  Bruce pulled out a gas can and began to methodically soak the inside of the car.  He was 95% sure no one would be down in the garage, but he wanted to hurry all the same, just in case.

             
After he was satisfied that the car had been properly soaked, he placed the small explosive inside the car.  It was amazing what kind of instructions you could find online these days.  He was glad he had destroyed that computer he used with a sledge hammer and then had it crushed at a junk yard.  You just can’t be too careful these days.  He peeled off the coveralls, coverings for his shoes, and his gloves.  He threw them all in Stephen’s car.  He knew he smelled like gas, but that could quickly be corrected.  He walked over to a stairwell and headed down to street level quickly.  He exited the building out a side door no one used and joined the crowd heading to his gym.  He had practiced the route several times over the past week, and was never spotted on any of the security cameras.

As he approached the door to his gym, he slid his hand
into
his pants pocket and pushed the send button, and listened.  He smiled as he heard the faint explosion and went inside.  He quickly hurried to his locker.  He grabbed his shower gear and washed himself thoroughly.   He knew he smelled of gas, but he had made a big scene earlier in the day when he was fil
l
ing his car of spilling gas.  He knew the two attendants on service would remember him if
t
he
y were
ever questioned.

             
Bruce finished his shower and dressed quickly.  Bruce was running things through his mind as he headed to the lot where his secondary car was hidden.  The van had been stolen and had been in an impound lot.  Bruce had switched plates on the van and parked it in the FBI building
with everything he needed a few days ago when the cameras first went down due to “technical difficulties”.  He moved the van just a few minutes before Stephen had come downstairs to his car.  Bruce had swiped Stephen’s car keys a few days earlier and made a copy. 

             
Bruce shook his head.  He knew his FBI career was over, unless he finished off John.  John was determined to find Sam’s killer, and that just wouldn’t do.  Bruce chuckled to himself.  The best part of the whole thing was Stephen helped Bruce with his escape.  Bruce had gone to Stephen asking to be approved for time off due to his father’s kidnapping and emotions that Bruce needed to “deal with.”  Of course Stephen signed off.  He thought they both were working for Archibald.  Bruce laughed out loud.  Bruce only worked for himself.  The fact the “shrink” had never figured that one out was a mistake that had cost Stephen his life. 

             
Bruce realized he was by the river.  He parked his car, got out, dropped the small detonator to the ground and crushed it.  He then scooped up all the parts and began to throw them into the river.  Bruce knew where to go.  He had left enough clues for John to figure it out.  The next time they met face to face it would be the two of them in a death match.

             
Bruce reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small cloth bag closed by drawstrings.  He opened the bag and pulled out the simple gold ring with the inscription, “Always yours, John,” engraved inside of it.  Bruce began to talk to the ring.

             
“We already know that I’m 1-0 when it comes to Fowlers, don’t we Sam?”  Bruce asked the ring.  He studied the ring for a minute and then spoke his ritual softly.

             
“If I had a sister, I wouldn’t miss her,” Bruce said.  He put the ring in the bag, and the bag back in his coat.  “I’m going to kill you
,
John, just like I killed that pretty wife of yours.  I’m going to frame you for her death, and
I’m going to become the FBI super-agent.”  Bruce’s voice was getting louder and louder.  “And then
,
John, and
then.
. . and then I’m going to tell my father everything I did for him, and if he doesn’t appreciate it. . . well, I’m going to kill him too!!”  Bruce laughed loudly for several minutes.  When he finished he got in his car and prepared to drive as he began to go through his master plan in his head.

             
Immediately after the explosion
 

Chapter 100

             
John still couldn’t believe what had happened.  He and Jessica had been in her office, talking.  Well, talking was really what most would call it.  They were shamelessly flirting.  Ever since their discussion in the car a few days ago, John thought that their relationship had begun to pick up steam.  John knew he had to stop doing that at work, but it was hard.  At work; there was a phrase John hadn’t said without dis
d
ain in a very, very long time. 

             
John snapped back to the present.  He was downstairs in the parking garage.  Trip had joined them.  He hadn’t left the building yet; Trip hardly left the building until very late in the evening.  Trip saw John and Jessica and waved them over.

             
“It’s Stephen’s car, and we’re pretty sure Stephen is inside,” said Trip.

             
Jessica went to take a look at the car.  She came back, faced Trip and nodded.  John was watching Trip and Jessica very closely.  They both turned towards John.  John raised his eyebrows questioningly.

             
“Is there something I should know?”  John asked.

             
Trip sighed.  He started t
o say something and his phone ra
ng.  He looked at the phone and walked off, taking the call.  By the sound of his tone and his body posture, John was pretty sure Trip was talking to someone at the top.  What surprised John was that Trip seemed to be telling whoever was on the other end of the line what was going to happen and not the other way around.

             
“You really just can’t resist, can you
,
John?”  Jessica asked.

             
John turned back toward Jessica, with a smirk on his face.   He shrugged his shoulders.

             
“It just takes over sometimes,” John replied.  “What is going on here?”

             
Jessica looked over at the shell of the car.  She looked back over towards Trip.  Trip was coming back toward them.  Jessica waited on Trip. 

             
“We think Stephen might have been a mole,” Jessica said.  John waited.  Jessica leaned towards John nodding her head, thinking John didn’t understand.  John nodded his head up and down slowly.

             
“OK,” John said.  “What’s the big secret?” 

             
“WHAT!?!”
  Jessica asked, as quietly as she could so it wouldn’t be heard but by the three of them. 
“How??
  How could you possibly know??”

             
John sighed.  This was the frustrating part of his ability.  To John things seemed so black and white.  He just knew things, and it was hard to remember that others didn’t see the same things he did.  It suddenly dawned on Trip how John knew.  Trip almost visibly smacked his forehead.

             
“You found the whole thing fishy when you were made to go to see Stephen?”  Trip asked.  John nodded.  “But how could you have known by just that?”

             
“Trip, I’m an old-school investigator.  That’s what everyone seems to forget,” John said.  “Just because I figure something out by body language or whatever it is, at the end of the day, it’s just a direction I know to look in.  I do try to find actual evidence to back things up.”  John looked over at the burned wreck of the vehicle.  “When I saw him it felt like he was trying to make me think Chet was a mole.  Then there were little things that he did that set off my internal . . .” John
paused looking for the word
,
  “
alarm
.  But the final straw was when I mentioned ‘The Duck’.  Stephen never asked how he got the name.  All of those things made me think it was worth looking into Stephen’s financials.  Arthur cut through the red tape
quickly and found out Stephen was more than maxed out in loans.  I was positive Stephen was Archibald’s mole.  I left it alone, because I wanted to feed misinformation to Archibald.  Apparently he did something wrong in Archibald’s eyes.”

             
Jessica put her hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh.  John turned toward her questioningly.

             
“For once,” Jessica began.  “I think your wrong on who had Stephen killed.”