THE MCJ

24

Part One / Part Two / Part Three

A new “Chris Johnson, Anglican Investigator” adventure

The following takes place between 8:00 AM and 2:00 PM

8:00 AM - We ate breakfast at Elkanah’s in Webster Groves. As Greg and I sipped coffee and nibbled on sausage and eggs, Dale was a bit too enthusiastically digging into his Clown Celebrant. “You know that thing’s going to kill you, don’t you, D?” I asked him. “Probably in the next couple of hours.”

“Whatever,” Price said without breaking stride. “I’ve had a good run and I’ve got tons of life insurance so Heather and the kids are set. DAYUM, this is good!  The thing I’m wondering is, how am I going to explain to the family why a St. Louis vacation is a good idea.”

“Apart from the Tigers coming in for inter-league play, the Lions coming in to the Ed or the Wings hitting town to bitchslap the Blues some more, you’re on your own, my man. But next time you’re here, try Elkanah’s Clown Celebrant South St. Louis Special.”

“South St. Louis Special? What’s that?”

“For the Special, they add anchovies and pork brains.”

“Anchovies and pork brains?! Mother of pearl, I’m getting one tomorrow!” Greg shut his eyes and shook his head slowly.

Local news was on the television.  Dale was about to say something when I recognized a face on the screen and held up my hand.

A prominent nun was attacked by three men in Webster Groves last night. Sister Joan Chittister says that as she was driving back to her hotel after a lecture at Webster University, three men suddenly pulled out guns and started shooting at her for no apparent reason, riddling her car with bullets. Chittister says that the three men drove off in a Toyota. Police officials will not speculate as to the reasons why Chittister might have been...

Dale and Greg looked at each other. At that very moment, my phone rang. “Chris? Colleen. What the hell did you guys do?”

“Nothing. It was Chittister who shot at us and I’ve got a chunk taken out of my leg to prove it. How do you know about this?”

“Your descriptions just came over the wire. One of them looks like a lot like you and another looks a lot like Dale. The liberals are screaming bloody murder and want an investigation so the President has made this a top priority. I’m heading it up and I just got into town.”

“Kid? Do you believe me?”

Colleen was silent for a long time. Finally she said, “Of course. Now what?”

“Begin the investigation.  Any blood you find in Webster will probably be mine. Pay special attention to the busted windows along Lockwood because I believe you’ll find that they were made by an Uzi, a gun I do not own. But make sure that you check ballistics on Chittister’s car first thing. Later.”

I snapped my phone shut. “What do we do now?” Greg quietly asked.

“Split up.” I took two plastic cards out of my wallet and slid one toward Dale. “You’re Peter Sean Bradley again,” I told him. I slid the other toward Greg and said, “You’re Matt Kennedy.

“The two of you get out of here. One of you go east, the other go west. Find a convenient spot, call a cab and go to the Crowne Plaza Hotel in Clayton. Both of you get rooms. Dale? As soon as you get checked in, walk over to the St. Louis County Library branch nearby.

“It’s a block west on Carondelet, two blocks north on Bemiston and a half block west on Maryland. Sign on the Web, download the Anchoress’s software to a couple of Flash drives and get back to the hotel.

“Greg? Rent us some wheels, preferably a van. Then get Dale and drive out to Lone Elk Park. West on Interstate 44, hang a right at the Valley Park exit and follow the signs. Park by the Visitor’s Center. I’ll get the laptop and meet you there.”

The two of them stood up. “Where are you going?” Dale asked me.

“South.”

I watched them walk away. Then I had another leisurely cup of coffee, walked back up the street to the parking garage, got into the Toyota and drove to an apartment that I rent on 1224 South Elm Avenue. I keep it as a safe house for just this kind of this situation.

I parked the Toyota out of sight, walked upstairs and went inside. I turned on the air conditioner to freshen the air a bit, sat down in one of the two chairs in the room and stared out the window.

9:00 AM - I had never ever felt so alone. “Where are you, Nicky?” I whispered to the trees next door. For the first time in my illustrious career, I had serious doubts whether we could pull this off. They always seemed to be one step ahead of us.

After about half an hour, my phone rang. “Chris?” said Colleen. “You’re off the hook.”

“That’s great to hear. Why?”

“Ballistics on the bullets you guys allegedly shot at Chittister showed that they were fired by a Mahony-McCarrick .38. Standard issue for the Catholic left but not a gun anybody who wanted to actually hit something would use.”

“Figures.”

“And those bullets in Webster definitely came from an Uzi. Chittister must have dumped it but her story is beginning to fall apart anyway. Suddenly, she’s not as sure of her descriptions as she was before. Said she was ‘upset’ when she gave them and now she doesn’t know.”

“I’ll pass it along. Thanks, kid.”

“Just one more question, Chris. What the hell is going on?”

I was silent for a few moments. “Have you ever heard of a copper neutrino pulse bomb?”

“Of course.”

“CETU believes that some time today, the Maryknollers and the Episcopal Peace Fellowship intend to detonate one.”

Colleen was stunned. “Oh my God! We have to get in there! I’ll alert Allen and we’ll begin a full-scale…”

“Hang on. You flood the place and they’re going to know. We haven’t found the bomb yet and we don’t know when it’s going to go off. And there’s a complication. Hostages. Lots of them. Including…uh…two really important ones.”

“Oh no! Nicky and…and…Paul?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh God, I’m sorry, Chris. Be sure to call me the moment you need help with anything.”

“That’s why I’ve got you on speed-dial, kid. Talk to you later.”

I stared out the window some more and then glanced at my watch. It was time to get out of there.

10:00 AM – After a leisurely walk through Best Buy, I picked out a top-of-the-line laptop with a fully charged battery, a wireless modem, a few more Flash drives, several other peripherals, a carrying case for all of it and a digital camera. I paid for everything with my debit card(didn’t make a dent), got on to Watson Road, headed west and picked up Interstate 44.

I got off at the Valley Park exit, turned north, got on to a west-bound outer road and drove out to Lone Elk Park. I took my time, partly to make sure I wasn’t being followed and partly because it’s one of the lovelier parts of St. Louis County.

At the Visitor’s Center, I parked next to a Ford minivan, the only van in the lot. I picked up the laptop, got out, knocked on the van’s door and walked over to a picnic table. Dale and Greg followed a few moments later.

“Nice spot,” said Dale.

“Figured we could see them coming easier here,” I told him.

“Are those elk?” asked Greg. We turned and watched a herd of elk approach the lake about fifty yards away from us. They regarded us with brief suspicion but eventually decided that we were no threat.

“Yes they are,” I said. “Hence the park name.”

“So where are we?” asked Price.

“Off the hook for the Chittister thing. The bullets in Chittister’s car came from a Mahony-McCarrick .38.”

Dale laughed hard. “Bad gun?” asked Greg.

“Of all Christian firearms, that one’s close to the worst of the lot. A step ahead of a Swing-Schori 9mm semi-automatic but not by much. Did you get the software?” I asked Dale.

“Yeah. You get the laptop?”

I took it out of its case and handed it to him. Dale plugged in a Flash drive, uploaded the Anchoress’s software and began testing it. As he typed, his face took on a look of increasing concern. “Chris? This isn’t going to work.”

“What do you mean?”

“The predictor just indicates in the most general of ways where the strongest point of the Nexis will be. It will probably be somewhere in this state and some time this evening. But that’s as close as I can get and I’m not 100% sure of that. As I read this, the strongest point only gets down to an area of fifty miles, give or take.”

“Won’t that be enough?” asked Greg.

“Nowhere near,” I said pensively. “I always understood that the bomb had to go off at precisely the strongest point of the Nexis. They have wiggle room in yards, not miles, If they guess wrong, it’s possible that nothing happens even though the bomb goes off within that area.”

“They must have refined the software,” speculated Dale.

“Which means we’re going to have to pay Susan Alexander a visit.”

“She won’t let you in the door, Chris,” said Greg.

“She’ll let you guys in, though.”

11:00 AM – We left the park and drove toward St. Louis, stopping in Webster Groves so I could leave the Toyota. Then the three of us took off in the van for St. Louis, parked in a parking garage near Christ Church Cathedral and walked up the street.

I took a position in a David Fischler’s across the street from the Cathedral while Greg and Dale went inside. Dale sat on a bench just outside Alexander’s office and pretended to read a Bible while Greg occupied a men’s room stall down the hall.

I speed-dialed Dale. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing. Near as I can tell, she’s in some kind of conference. This could take a while.”

I ordered two Fischler Dogs, some seasoned fries and a Diet Coke and found a seat by the window. The lunchtime crowd was starting to fill the place up.

Twenty minutes passed. Finally Dale called me. “She’s on her way out.”

“Does she have her laptop with her?”

“No.”

“Do it.”

Dale called Greg. “Let’s go.”

A minute later, Dale called me again. “We’re in. Did you see her?”

“She walked into Jeffersonian’s. Figure you’ve got two hours.”

“Won’t need ’em.” A bit later, Dale was back on the line. “Found it. They’ve definitely refined it.”

“Great. Download it and erase it from her hard drive.”

“’Ello, ’ello. What’s all this then? The schematic for a copper neutrino pulse bomb.”

“Same drill. Download it, erase it and get the hell out of there.”

Ten minutes later, Dale and Greg walked into Fischler’s, ordered themselves some lunch and joined me. Greg began playing with the software. “This is much more advanced than the Anchoress’s version,” said Greg. “It’s going to take some time.”

The three of us finished our lunches and calmly walked back toward the parking garage, got into the van and drove off, leaving the delighted attendant an enormous tip. After various turns here and there, I guided us onto Chippewa Avenue where we headed west until Chippewa Avenue became Watson Road.

12:00 PM - In Crestwood, I noticed the same rental company from which Greg had rented the van. I don’t know why, maybe it was the famed Johnson intuition, but I had Greg pull into the place and drop the van off.

As we were contemplating what to rent, I impulsively walked across Watson Road(the original Highway 66) to a car dealership, picked out a used Nissan Pathfinder and paid cash for it. I’m good that way(”With any kind of luck, temp plates will be harder to track,” I told the others). Then we headed west back toward Lone Elk Park.

Out at Lone Elk, we parked the Nissan out of sight, walked over a big hill and found another picnic table. Dale and Greg tooks turns with the software while I kept an eye out for our opponents. On the other side of the lake, I watched a van slow to a stop.

Two men got out and stared intently in our direction. Just then, Greg’s phone rang. He answered it, listened for a while, motioned for us to be quiet and turned up the volume.

“Mr. Griffith,” the distinctive voice of James Carroll said. “Just so you don’t waste your phone’s battery, all of your CETU associates are now comfortably here with us. That’s how we were able to locate you.” Griffith cringed.

“You gentlemen have something of ours that we’d like back,” Carroll continued. “So if you’ll direct your attention to the other side of this beautiful lake, you’ll see that we have two…things of great interest to one of you that we would be willing to trade as soon as we can confirm that you no longer have copies of our property.”

Price took out his high-powered binoculars and looked across the lake just as someone else got out and stood by the van. A look of horror came over his face.

As Dale handed Greg the binoculars, his hand was violently trembling. Griffith took a quick look and instantly handed the binoculars to me. With considerable trepidation, I looked at the van to see who was standing there.

It was Nicky and Paul.

My heart and breathing both began to race as I stared at my wife and my son. I heard Dale say unconvincingly, “We could go around. We could take them.”

“They can see us right now,” Greg said quietly. “They’d know we were coming. Apart from the two on the ridge and the other two on that hill to the right, we don’t know how many of them there are or where they are. And we or they might hurt Nicky and Paul in the process.”

“But we can’t just leave them there.”

Paul was delighted by the presence of some geese several yards away while Nicky’s face was expressionless. Me, I thought very hard about giving up. Greg and Dale could finish this; I was tired and I just wanted to be wherever my wife and my little boy were, whatever that meant. Then I noticed something.

Nicky’s eyes.

A long blink. A short blink, a long blink and a short blink. A short blink and a long blink. A short blink, two long blinks and a short blink. She did it effortlessly, over and over.

Morse Code.

Trap.

“Let’s get out of here,” I told the others.

Price stared at me. “You’re just going to leave her? Leave your son?”

I looked across the lake at my wife and my son one more time. “Yeah,” I replied, barely able to get that word out.

“Why?”

“Because she told me to,” I said, handing Dale his binoculars. “Watch her eyes.”

Dale looked across the lake for a few moments, whispered, “I’ll be damned,” and handed the binoculars to Greg who looked at Nicky, turned to me and mouthed the word, “Wow.”

“Call Carroll back and tell him we’ll be over in a few minutes,” I told Griffith.

1:00 PM - The three of us calmly walked back to the Nissan, got in and drove off a bit faster than we should have. Greg continued to study the predictor software until his phone rang again. It was James Carroll so Griffith put it back on speaker.

“You gentleman have made a big mistake. Particularly you, Mr. Johnson. Your wife and your son will be permanently with us now. Since we intend to destroy you, she’ll be a priceless asset to us.

“We may just bring her on board right now. We have tools to do that, you know. Remember Intensive Ministerial Enrichment?”

“Jimmy?” I said. “If you guys succeed, I won’t have anything else on my plate so tracking you down and getting my revenge will be pretty much all I think about.”

“You disappoint me, Mr. Johnson. Murder doesn’t become an allegedly Christian gentleman such as yourself.”

“Who said anything about murder, Jimmy? I plan on finding you, tying you to a chair and introducing you to a special MP3 player I own.

“It’s got one song on it and it plays that song over and over. ‘Onward, Christian Soldiers.’ Great song for an anti-military guy like you. Think of it, Jimmy.

“’Onward, Christian soldiers, marching as to war. With the cross of Jesus going on before. Christ, the royal master, leads against the foe. Forward into battle see his banners go!’

“It’s got a lot more verses besides that one. Over and over and over and over. Oh, and it’s also got recorded sermons of John Paul II, Benedict XVI, Billy Graham, Rod Parsley, Benny Hinn, Jesse Duplantis, people like that. Over and over and over and over.

“I’m a patient man, Jimmy. I’ll keep you there for as long as it takes. So if my wife so much as breaks a nail or my son gets diaper rash, I’m coming for you.

“It’ll be a little tough for you to enjoy the ascendancy of your religion, whatever that is, what with being completely insane and all. Won’t it, Jimmy?”

Carroll’s voice was suddenly a whole lot less supercilious. “You’re bluffing.”

“Dale?” I asked. “Do I ever bluff about stuff like this?”

“Never,” Price replied. “Ever.” I could hear a gulp, some anxious breathing and Carroll stammer, “You...you’re not...you’re...not,” before he hung up.

I handed Greg his phone. “Sorry, Chris,” he said.

“Thanks. But their grandstanding just confirmed something vitally important. The bomb and the hostages are somewhere in this area.”

“How do you know that?” asked Dale.

“They found out where we were and got Nicky and Paul out to Lone Elk. All in the space of an hour or so.”

“Now what?” asked Griffith.

“Let’s find someplace safe and have a close look at that software.”

My phone rang. It was Colleen and she sounded as terrified as I’ve ever heard her. “Chris? How close are you guys?”

“We’re getting there. What’s the matter?”

“Have any of you been following the story of the Pope’s illness?”

“Slightly. Something about ’serious but not life-threatening.’ How’s he doing?”

“That’s a cover story and I don’t know how much longer it’ll keep the lid on. The Pope’s not sick, Chris. He’s been kidnapped by EPF and the Maryknollers. We just got a video confirming that he’s one of the hostages.”

Next Week: Part Four

Posted on 2/27/2007 12:16:02 AM , 13 comments