Shoot Him If He Runs

34

Bill Pepper still sat in the uncomfortable wooden chair, and the light coming through the closed shutters on the window told him that the sun was well up; his stomach was telling him it was near lunchtime. Colonel Croft kept leaving the room and returning and asking the same questions all over again.

Colonel Croft now returned again and took his seat at the desk. “Mr. Pepper,” he said, “I am growing weary of your intransigence.”

“Colonel Croft,” Pepper said, “I have repeatedly answered every question you have put to me; there is no intransigence on my part.”

“Mr. Pepper, go to the door there and open it.”

“Colonel, I have already seen your display.”

“Do as I say immediately.”

Pepper got up wearily, went to the door and opened it. Everything was as before, except that Annie Pepper was seated in the torture chair, blindfolded.

“Return to your chair and sit down,” the colonel said.

“Annie,” Pepper said, “don’t worry, honey; everything is going to be all right.” He closed the door and returned to his chair, this time frightened, but furious.

“Now, Mr. Pepper…” the colonel began.

“No, Colonel,” Pepper replied, cutting him off. “Not now, not ever. I demand to see an official of the American Embassy at once, and if you so much as touch a hair on the head of my wife, I will take it upon myself to see that you will spend the rest of your days regretting it. And if you don’t think I have the juice to do that, you are very much mistaken. This interrogation is at an end.”

The colonel rose from his chair, opened a desk drawer and removed what appeared to be a riding crop. He strode around the desk and stopped in front of Pepper. “Now, Mr. Pepper, we will see how much influence you have.” He drew the crop back so far it was over his shoulder.

Irene Foster was pushing her grocery cart down an aisle at her favorite supermarket in Markstown, thumping melons and sniffing cheeses, when her basket collided with that of another woman.

“Oh, I’m so sorry; I…”

“Irene?”

Irene peered at the other woman. “Margaret Tiptree? I don’t believe it.”

“I don’t believe it, either,” Mrs. Tiptree said. “What on earth are you doing in St. Marks?”

“I retired here earlier this year,” Irene replied. “Is Jim based here?”

“He’s the cultural attaché at the embassy,” Margaret replied, winking.

“Of course he is. What a plum assignment!”

“It’s a great way to ride out the three years until his retirement,” Margaret said. “We like it here so much, we’re thinking of staying.”

“Well, you must come to dinner, soon. It would be good to see Jim again; it’s been years. His work must be boring, though.”

Margaret came closer and lowered her voice. “Not today, it isn’t. Colonel Croft has got Bill and Annie Pepper in his jail, and Jim is worried sick. He’s over there now.”

“I remember Bill Pepper,” Irene said, “but I don’t know his wife.”

“He’s undercover in one of the offshore casinos, and we don’t even know why he was picked up.”

“That’s bad news,” Irene said. “That Colonel Croft is a throwback to the Middle Ages; there’s no telling what he will do.”

“Well, Jim’s all over it, so I’m hoping for a good result.”

The two women chatted a bit longer and made a dinner date for the following week. As soon as they had parted, Irene went to an isolated corner of the supermarket and dialed a cell phone number.

“Yes?”

“Teddy, it’s Irene.”

“What’s up?”

“I just ran into Margaret Tiptree at the supermarket.”

“Jim Tiptree’s wife?”

“Yes; he’s based at the embassy here.”

“Is something wrong?”

“Do you remember a young officer named Bill Pepper?”

“Yes, I outfitted him on his first mission for the Agency.”

“He’s here, too, undercover, in one of the offshore casinos, and that awful Colonel Croft has arrested him.”

“Oh, shit,” Teddy said.

“Jim is on the job, but I’m afraid Bill is going to be hurt before they can get him out. They arrested his wife, too.”

“Christ, I hate hearing that.”

“You’ve had dealings with Croft; is there anything you can do?”

Teddy was quiet for a moment. “Yes, there is, and I should have done it sooner,” he said. “I’ll speak to you later.”

Teddy hung up, remembering where Colonel Croft liked to have his lunch every day. He went to a shelf in his workshop and removed a slightly battered briefcase that was heavier than it appeared. He checked the contents, then closed it and headed for his car. He drove to Markstown, to a hilltop overlooking the town and, in particular, the Markstown jail. He drove up an overgrown dirt trail to a spot he knew: an old tower that had once been used for firespotting, dating to a time when there were more trees on the island.

He climbed the tower, being careful to avoid steps that were rotting, and when he reached the top he looked down onto the Markstown jail. The rambling building had been built as an outpost for the British army, and it was arranged around a parade ground, now planted with trees and flowers. It was like a little park, where employees would take their sandwiches for lunch.

Teddy wasn’t sure this was going to work, but it was all he could do. He hated Croft, and he had become weary of paying his bribes. This was something he had been contemplating for weeks; he had only hoped he would get the chance.

Colonel Croft made ready to rake Bill Pepper’s face with the riding crop.

“Go ahead, Colonel,” Pepper said. “Mark me up; the pictures will look great in the international press.”

The colonel’s normally impassive face creased, ready for a snarl, and he pulled the crop back even farther. Then, as he was about to swing, there came a pounding on the door.

“Colonel!” a muffled voice shouted from the other side of the door. “Please open the door at once!”

“I told you not to disturb me!” the colonel shouted back.

“It is an emergency!” the voice shouted back.

The colonel tossed the crop onto the desk and strode over to the door. He unbolted it and yanked it open. “What is it?” he snarled. Then he saw Tiptree, whom he knew from the American Embassy, standing behind the police officer.

“I know you’ve got an American citizen in there,” Tiptree said, shoving aside the policeman and walking into the office. He saw Bill Pepper. “Are you all right, Mr. Pepper?”

“Yes, but he’s got my wife strapped into a chair in the next room!” Pepper replied, getting up and going to the door. Tiptree followed him, and they both looked into the room.

It was empty of all furniture; everything was gone.

“A few minutes ago, this place was a torture chamber,” Pepper said.

“I believe you, Mr. Pepper,” Tiptree said.

“Mr. Tiptree,” the colonel said, placatingly, “there is nothing wrong here; I am merely questioning Mr. Pepper about his activities on the island. As you can see, he is unharmed.”

“He was about to use that on me,” Pepper said, pointing to the crop on the desk.

“Mr. Tiptree, please, let’s talk for a moment, shall we?” The colonel took Tiptree’s arm and steered him toward the door. “Sergeant,” he said to the policeman, “Mr. Tiptree and I will be in the garden for a few minutes. Please send us out some lunch. And would you please process out Mr. and Mrs. Pepper? You may sign them for me.”

“Yes, Colonel,” the sergeant said.

“Wait here, Mr. Pepper,” Tiptree said. “I’ll be back for you and your wife shortly.”

Pepper walked into the anteroom, sat down on a comfortable sofa and tried to slow his thumping heartbeat. “Bring my wife to me right now,” he ordered the sergeant. The policeman got up and left the room.

The colonel steered James Tiptree though another door, and they stepped into the sunlit courtyard at the center of the police station. “Lovely out here, isn’t it? A great improvement from when the British used it to drill their troops.”

“Yes, lovely,” Tiptree replied through clenched teeth. “Listen Colonel, I’ve been waiting here, demanding to see you for most of the night, why…”

“Please take a seat,” the colonel said, showing him to a bench. “I want to assure you that nothing has gone on here except routine police work.”

“I don’t think there’s anything routine about this incident,” Tiptree said, sitting down. My ambassador has already spoken to the prime minister, and I assure you, there will be repercussions.”

The colonel sat down next to him. “I give you my word, Mr. Tiptree, there is nothing…” And then the colonel’s head exploded.

Tiptree leapt off the bench, flecks of gray matter dotting his dark suit, and backed away from the nearly headless corpse, now lying on the gravel path. “Jesus H. Christ!” he said aloud. He could hear doors being flung open and boots pounding on the earth. “I didn’t do it!” he yelled.