Veil

35

Robert saw everything clearly. He ran down the street behind a black convertible limousine. A crowd lined up along the sidewalk, waved, cheered, and hurled insults. Motorcycles led the procession and several more men in black suits, white shirts and dark ties, ran with him.

In front, riding in the back of the limo, sat a beautiful woman in a pink dress and pillbox hat; waving to the crowd. To her right sat a very handsome man doing the same. Robert heard a popping sound. The man stopped waving and grabbed his throat. Robert struggled to catch up to the car, but couldn’t no matter how hard he tried. He looked up ahead to his right, saw Charlie Ivory’s face at the fence on the grassy knoll, and pumped his arms and legs harder.

A shot, louder than the others, rang out. President Kennedy’s head jerked backwards to the left, exploding in a mess of blood and brain, some splattering Robert’s suit. Jackie Kennedy climbed along the trunk, reaching for a piece of skull. This time his legs worked, and he pushed her back into the car. He threw his body on top of Jackie and looked over at the President. He was gone.

“Robert! Robert!” an echoing voice called. “Robert, wake up!” Robert struggled to fend off the clouds, shaking his head like a wet collie. Slumped over, head hanging down, a pungent odor stampeded his nostrils, but not enough to shake the fog.

The familiar voice grew closer.

“Robert!”

Groggy, he struggled to focus his eyes. “Thorne,” he finally whispered.

“I’m right here, Robert. We’re tied to a pole in somebody’s barn.

Wake up and shake it off.”

“How long have you been awake?” he asked, the pounding in his brain clearing with each breath.

“I’ve floated in and out for a couple of days. I’m really not sure.”

“Days?”

“Yes. We’ve been here for at least a week as far as I can tell, maybe more. When I woke up it was daylight outside. Then that rat faced fuck Simon came in and gave us both shots, and I blacked out. He’s been keeping us under.”

Robert took a deep, cleansing breath. “Have you see anybody else?”

“No, just Simon.”

Each slug of air brought Robert a little closer to lucid. Thirty minutes later, still sore, his head cleared, and he surveyed the barn. A single lantern hung next to the barn’s double-door, giving it a misty, shadowy feel. Shiny black saddles, on hooks next to the stalls, were emblazoned with gold “R’s” which told him the barn belonged to Rothschild.

Moonbeams slid in through the slits in the ceiling, flickering on and off as bats flittered about the roof, disturbing the flow of light. Robert heard Thorne grunt and struggle, trying to break free.

“Damn duct tape. I’ve been trying to weaken it, but the assholes have wrapped it thick.”

Robert strained against his own bonds, to no avail, when his eyes landed on something that made him pause. The casket.

Dusty in the dim light, it appeared to be untouched. Wood with gold trim, it sat in the middle of the barn like a monument. Streams of moonlight touched down on it, reminding him of a scene out of the Dracula movies he enjoyed as a kid. He struggled harder against the tape, but it cut into his wrists.

“We’ll have to make our move when they cut us loose,” said Robert.

“You mean if they cut us loose.”

“All of this expensive riding equipment with the gold R’s means we’re probably on Rothschild’s property. If that’s true, he won’t have us killed here. It’s too risky. He’ll have them take us somewhere else and when they do, we’ll make our move.”

“Got it. And Robert.”

“Yeah.”

“You leave Marilyn London to me.”

Robert smiled for the first time since he’d awakened. “It’ll be my pleasure.”

Sitting there in the dirt, Robert’s thoughts turned toward Fiona and his mother. He wondered if they were safe.

“Thorne, we have to take whatever’s in that casket with us.”

“I don’t have a problem with that,” she said. “Let’s just not miss.

And nobody gets to tell this story but us.” Robert hesitated. He wanted to see Edward account for the things he’d done.

“If we can take Rothschild alive, we should. I’d like to see him fry in public.”

“That’s the point, he won’t fry,” she said. “Bastards like him never do. He’ll die of old age before they put him in jail.”

“Not if we take the evidence with us. What Charlie showed us is enough to destroy him, his family, and who knows how many others.”

“I hope you’re right,” she said. “But for all we know, Julie Rice could be in there decomposed and rotted away. Then what?”

“Then we’ll tell them we know where it really is. That it’s back at Parklawn. Anything to get them to move us.” Hours passed, most of it in silence. More thoughts of Fiona and his mother surfaced but he forced them down, wanting to focus.

A car pulled up outside. He counted three sets of footsteps walking away from the barn, but no voices. Minutes later, a door opened and slammed. The footsteps disappeared.

Minutes faded into hours. Robert heard a door open, and again footsteps hit the pavement. This time toward the barn.

“It’s showtime,” he said. “Stay alert.”

“All ready,” said Thorne. “Just remember. The bitch is mine.” Before he could comment, the barn door opened and Edward, Marilyn, and Simon entered. The dim light barely illuminated their silhouettes.

Simon and Marilyn carried rifles fitted with silencers and laser scopes. Edward walked over to Robert and peered down, a malignant sneer dripping from his face.

“Well, Mr. Veil. We meet again. My apologies for not getting here sooner, but I had some pressing business with a few friends from the Middle East. As you can imagine, the ruckus they caused created quite a mess, and it required my personal attention. And of course, my son is running for President.”

“And I apologize in advance for killing you,” said Robert.

Edward laughed. “That’ll be quite impressive given your present circumstance.”

“I’m glad I amuse you. Let’s see how long it lasts.”

“Now, now Mr. Veil. Be satisfied you’ve gotten this far. Anyone else would be dead by now.”

“You mean like Kennedy and Claymore.”

Edward’s smile faded, and his conceit filled the room like a poisonous vapor. “Touche, Mr. Veil, but you must understand, it’s only business, nothing more, nothing less. Besides, President Claymore is alive.”

Robert felt relieved. “Don’t you think he knows who did it? He’ll come after you.”

“Oh, I’m sure he has his suspicions, but he won’t come after me. You see, our good President Claymore may be a Boy Scout, but he understands how the world works. He’s lucky to be alive.”

“Not all men are as weak minded as you believe,” said Robert.

“True,” said Edward. “But there’s nothing like almost getting shot to death to remind a man of his place in the order of things.”

“And what’s your place?”

“At the top of course. Which is why I’ll walk away a bit richer with the past buried, thanks to the evidence you helped me find. Which reminds me, where are my manners? Did I forget to say thank you?” He bowed his head, hands together, as if he were about to pray.

Robert clinched his fists behind his back, wishing the tape wasn’t there. Edward slithered over to the casket and ran his fingers along its surface, as though it were a long lost friend. “Cut them loose,” he ordered, without turning around. “Take them to the woods two miles north of here. Kill them. Then come back and meet me here.” Marilyn covered them while Simon cut them loose. Robert shook his arms and legs, trying to regain circulation. Edward walked over and looked them up and down, but gave Thorne an extended examination.

“My dear, you are the looker. I’ve gone black a time or two, but I must say you…”

Thorne spit in his face. “Go to hell.”

Edward removed a handkerchief from his jacket and wiped his face.

“Marilyn, before you kill this one have her suffer as long as possible. If you need ideas, I’m sure Simon can be of assistance.” Marilyn smiled. “With pleasure.”

Thorne glared hard at Marilyn, her eyes red, muscles bulging.

Not now Thorne, it’s not the right time.

“Mr. Veil,” said Edward. “Please forgive me. I almost forgot to offer you my congratulations. It seems your girlfriend is now a Supreme Court Justice.”

Robert felt a shiver.

“Oh yes,” Edward continued. “She’s quite the little darling in this town. You see, the first thing President Claymore did from the hospital, was issue a statement reaffirming his support for Justice Patrick. He called it the most important step at the moment, in assuring our nation’s positive and solid constitutional direction. Quite the political move I must say. Public opinion for her rose sharply, and not even I could stop it. She was unanimously confirmed and sworn in day before yesterday.

If I’m not mistaken, she starts her first day this morning. A pity you’re not there, but if it’s any consolation, both she and your mother looked concerned when she was sworn in.”

“So you lost that one,” Robert said, struggling to maintain his composure.

“Oh, I haven’t told you the best part,” said Edward, a hint of triumph in his voice. “It seems your friend Mr. Andre Perchenkov, the Bear, I think you call him, is probably going to kill her soon. And inside the Supreme Court building of all places. Imagine that.” Robert, wanting to lunge, held himself in check. “And how do you know that?”

“Well, it seems your Mr. Perchenkov and I have some of the same friends here in Washington. I saw him plant the note next to Fiona at the Ritz. He’s quite the industrious fellow as you already know.” Edward put both his hands behind his back, and paced back and forth in front of them, enjoying the moment. Robert glanced over at Simon and Marilyn. They’re not close enough. They’d never miss.

“What do you mean?” asked Robert.

“You’re not going to believe this, but this Bear fellow has bought his way into a position on the Court Building’s security detail. His Russian buddies and contacts had a little trouble securing his assignment, so I helped it along.” I have it on good authority that’s where he’ll kill her.”

“You’re lying!”

“I only lie when it’s lucrative. I was going to assist him in his little venture, but like I said, he is the industrious one.” Robert lunged. Simon caught him on the temple with the butt of his rifle, and he fell face first to the ground. He pushed himself up, breathing hard. Marilyn took a couple of steps back, her weapon trained on Thorne, who didn’t move a muscle.

“Get them out of here,” Edward bellowed, turning toward the casket.

“And make sure they die. I don’t want any more ghosts showing up like my old friend Charlie Ivory. When you get back, we’ll burn the contents of the casket and be done with it.”

“Outside,” Simon barked, pointing his weapon at Robert’s head.

Marilyn snatched Thorne by her hair and pulled her outside. Robert glared at Edward. “I’ll be right back.”

Edward leaned forward on the casket with both hands. “Get him out of here.”

Outside, Thorne rocked on her knees, throwing up.

“That six pack’s not as hard as I thought,” said Marilyn. “On your feet!”

She snatched Thorne up by her hair and dragged her to a flatbed truck parked a hundred feet from the barn. Marilyn drove. Simon sat in the back with them, gun ready. They bounced along a rough dirt road through a heavily wooded area, then stopped about three miles from the ranch.

“Okay, out,” ordered Simon.

Robert looked at his partner. This is it!

They shimmied along the truck bed using their legs, and hopped down.

“Let’s take’em into the woods,” said Marilyn. “The further in the better. They’ll be rat food before anyone is the wiser.” Simon pulled out a huge Bowie knife. “Let’s go,” he said, poking Robert in the back.

They walked in the woods for about three quarters of a mile.

“Stop,” ordered Marilyn. “This is far enough. Turn around.” Thorne stopped abruptly. Marilyn stepped a foot too close. A roundhouse kick thudded against Marilyn’s chest, sending her crashing backwards to the ground, her weapon firing into the sky. Simon aimed and fired. Thorne ducked into the woods, and disappeared.

Before Simon could turn around, Robert rammed him with a body block, knocking him on top of Marilyn, and ran in the opposite direction.

He heard both of them screaming. Machinegun fire filled the air.

“I’ll go after her,” Marilyn yelled.

Robert stayed low, running in a wide circle, keeping a sharp eye out for Thorne. He knew she’d do the same.

He couldn’t hear anyone following, but kept running, branches slapping him in the face. He saw a tree in his path and he jumped, but something caught his foot and snatched him to the ground. Thorne!

“Shhhh,” she said, a finger to her mouth. ”If we lay here we can catch them off guard,” she whispered.

“No,” said Robert. “We have to go back to the barn and get the evidence. Edward’s there alone.”

“They have a truck. They could beat us back,” she said. “We should take them here, then head back.”

Robert thought. “Okay, but nobody gets back to warn Edward.” Ten minutes passed. The wind whistled through the trees, making it difficult to hear.

“We’ll wait a few more minutes,” Robert whispered. “Then…” Robert heard the crunch of underbrush, then spotted Simon and Marilyn together, spaced a few feet apart, crouching low. Simon panned a flashlight back and forth. Marilyn followed the beam with her rifle.

Robert gave a hand signal, and Thorne circled around so they could hit them from both sides.

Crawling on his belly, Robert made his way to some brush directly in their path, and waited. The light moved close. He heard whispers ten feet away.

The flashlight hit the brush where Robert hid. They stopped. He saw them look to Marilyn’s left, in Thorne’s direction. Marilyn shot into the brush, then checked the spot where she fired. As far as he could tell, they found nothing, then continued in his direction.

Good. Just a little closer.

Thorne sprang up behind them, grabbed Marilyn around the neck and snatched her to the ground. Simon turned to fire, but Robert jumped up and tackled him to the ground.

Thorne wailed on Marilyn’s face, foregoing the machine gun, which was well within her reach.

Simon scrambled to his feet empty handed. Robert hit him with a reverse forearm on the bridge of his nose, smashing it into mush.

Simon’s face twisted in rage, like a rabid badger, cornered and crazed.

He rushed forward, dropped to the ground, and swept Robert’s legs from under him. He tried to get back on his feet, but Simon pounced, punching like his name was Sugar Ray.

He sent a flurry of bombs upward, then snatched Simon by the collar and yanked downward, head butting him in the mouth. He cried out, grabbed Robert around the throat, and squeezed, with vise-grips Robert couldn’t pry loose.

He bucked and kicked, unable to throw Simon off, frantically scratching the ground, searching for a weapon. His hand touched a rock and he crashed it against Simon’s head, sending the sinewy little man flying. Robert stood up gasping. Simon lay face down, motionless.

Thorne and Marilyn, bloody and bruised, circled each other like prizefighters. Robert took a step, but Thorne held up her hand and he stopped.

She hit Marilyn with a vicious combination; Marilyn retuned it with a barrage of her own, and kicked Thorne in the stomach. His partner fell backwards, but sprang to her feet like a cat.

She rushed Marilyn, who refused to retreat, and they lit into one of the most ferocious toe-to-toe flurries Robert had ever seen.

Their punches landed like multiple gunshots with neither giving an inch. Marilyn growled, rushed forward, and rammed Thorne into a tree.

Her arms dangled like noodles, her eyes rolled up in the back of her head. Marilyn forearmed her in the face, and kicked her into some brush.

Thorne fell out of sight.

“What’s the matter, girlfriend,” Marilyn taunted, breathing hard.

“You black bitches make a lot of noise, but where you at? I knew your black ass was overrated.” She turned toward Robert and picked up her rifle.

“Now let’s finish this.”

She fired, grazing Robert’s left arm. He dove to the ground and rolled, bullets whistling by. A scream ripped through the night, and the shooting stopped.

Robert stood. Thorne had Marilyn from behind, her bicep wrapped around the agent’s neck. Marilyn dropped the rifle, and kicked and struggled for her life. Thorne let Marilyn drop to the ground, picked up the weapon and tossed it into the woods.

Thorne circled, watching her catch her breath. “Get your white ass up!”

Marilyn spit blood, wiped her mouth, and stumbled to her feet.

“Okay bitch. Let’s go.”

She rushed Thorne and caught a flurry of punches to the body and face. Marilyn swung back, missed, and lost her balance. Thorne hit with a kick and forearm smash, breaking Marilyn’s jaw and nose. She fell on her face and crawled, mumbling and coughing up blood.

Thorne straddled her from behind and leaned close to her ear.

“Listen, girlfriend. Didn’t your mama tell you to never call a black woman a bitch? You see, we can be, we just don’t like hearing it.” Thorne placed her other arm around Marilyn’s neck and squeezed.

The agent struggled, but the sound of her neck breaking made it moot.

Robert heard bushes rustle behind him. Simon scrambled to his feet and bolted into the woods. They caught him at the clearing in front of the truck. Simon picked up his knife and slashed the air like a samurai.

“It’s over,” said Robert. “Drop the knife and we’ll take you back to the ranch.”

Simon’s face twisted. “I’m afraid that’s impossible Mr. Veil. You see, I…”

He rushed Robert, but Thorne grabbed him from behind and slammed him to the ground. Simon dropped the knife. She picked it up, and cut his throat.

“ Now it’s over,” said Thorne. “Let’s go.” They hopped in the truck and headed back to the ranch. Thorne checked the glove compartment, and found a. 45 automatic. Robert turned the headlights off, stopping about fifty yards from the fence around Rothschild’s property.

“Let’s walk in from here,” said Robert. “We’ll head for the barn, secure the casket, then drive the truck up to load it.”

“What about Rothschild?”

“We’ll take him in if we can,” he said. “He’ll stand trial for what he’s done. It’ll send a message”

Thorne looked at him, incredulous. “It won’t send a damn thing,” she said. “A bullet in his skull will.”

Robert smiled. “Let’s go.”