Hey all.
So it's been a little difficult to write while I've been unable to see very well. You'd think that all the time off work would give me plenty of time, but apparently not. I've been spending most of my time with my contacts out and finding stuff to do on my phone, which is the only thing I can get to close enough range to see. But with that, here's the next chapter.
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Chapter 7
Richard G Dean was in the middle of a book tour, and had just finished signing about 200 copies of his self help book "The Inner You: A guide to discovering what it is you truly want," and in his car on the way to a 5 star hotel in Miami when the news came over the radio.
"...And news out of Terre Haute Indiana today, experts think that a terrorist attack is responsible for the explosion that rocked the small college town. It's unknown whether this was a directed attack or the preparation for an attack gone wrong, but police and FBI are looking into it. The explosion occurred in a storage unit in the South part of town, and the unit in question was owned by one Raul Muyres- I hope I'm pronouncing that right. Neither the police nor the FBI are saying whether Mr... Muyres ... was involved with the bombing, but are investigating every angle."
Richard, aka Robert, who had let his guard down, and let his own persona show through had slowed down on the Dolphin Expressway, and pulled over to the side once Raul's name was mentioned. The name brought back many memories, and emotions that he had not genuinely felt for a long time. Robert never had real emotions. They said this was the mark of a Sociopath, but Robert knew what that was, and had never felt himself in that category. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that if he was a Sociopath he was a very high functioning one. He was manipulative, this was true, but he'd discovered a long time ago that manipulating people in a way that helped them yeilded far greater benefits than just a short term manipulation which led to their eventual destruction. He had grown rich selling self help to the masses, self help that was mostly rhetoric, but there was some good advice in his books if one took the time to read them.
But the emotions that he denied were brought back to the fore upon hearing Raul's name. Love, fear, sadness, and thought the radio had never specifically said it, loss, as he was certain that Raul was killed in the blast.
He shifted the car into gear, making up his mind on the spot, and causing several cars behind him to blare their horns in protest. He went to the hotel, and gathered his things, and checked out early. The desk clerk reminded him that he had paid for the whole week in advance, and that would not be refunded.
Robert didn't care.It was only money.
He boarded the first plane for which he had to wait 2 hours, then the flight took another 2 hours 45 minutes to reach Indianapolis, then he rented a car, and drove a further hour and a half to get to Terre Haute. He arrived directly at the site of the blast at about four o'clock, about 10 hours after it had actually occurred. He drove up to the gate, which was still blocked by police cars, and got out of the car, looking for all the world, like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.
However the first officer he reached had a combination of stupidity and stubbornness that was altogether too common in small town police, in Robert's opinion.
"Whoa there chief, where do you think you're going?" he said.
Typical. Robert had heard the line a thousand times in various contexts, and even in different languages. He gave the officer a look that said that he had barely noticed him, because he was in fact beneath notice.
"Special agent Regan Florida, Crime Scene Recovery Unit from Homeland Security. I've been sent to assess the bomb site and determine if anything points to domestic terrorism." He started to walk past.
"Nuh, uh Mr. Fancy title with no badge, and no ID. I was told by the the Lady FBI agent to not let anyone through except her and a very small group of others. An' that don't include any upity Homeland Security types, less'n they can conjure up proper ID."
Robert decided to gamble a little. "Have you ever met a member of homeland security who wore a badge? Wouldn't that kind of defeat the purpose." He was banking on the cop to have never met a member of Homeland Security, ever.
Unfortunately...
"Actually my cousins husbands college roommate worked for tbe DHS, and he showed us his badge. Gold with blue with an eagle right up on there. It looked pretty slick." He eyed Robert warily.
Robert sighed and nodded. "Can you at least point me in the direction of the nearest hotel?" he asked resignedly.
He was walking back to his car when something blew across his path.
It was a glossy advertisement for a place called Club Koyote with a K. It was about 40% burned away, which indicated that it had been in proximity of the blast, and it seemed fairly new, not faded or tattered on the remaining portion, in fact the remaining edges and single remaining corner were still fairly sharp. He went back to his car and set his GPS for the hotel, but as soon as he was out of sight of the cop, changed it to the address of Club Koyote.
It was a dingy looking little hole-in-the-wall from the outside, but the cars in the lot ranged from rusted pickup trucks to high end SUVs, with all manner of car in between including a couple of motorcycles. He went in, paying the 15 dollar cover, and sat down at the bar barely noticing the girl on stage, and pulled out his phone, pulling a picture of Raul up on his phone and making sure he looked suitably sad and slightly forlorn. The bartender, a sweet looking girl, dressed in a tight tank top, who apparently didn't believe in bras, asked him for his drink order. He ordered only a coke, and when she brought it back she took pity and asked if everything was alright.
Just like he knew she would.
He showed her the picture of Raul from his phone, it was a picture they had taken together in a hotel bar. Raul looked fairly happy and Robert looked straight faced, though somewhat happier than he normally did. It was their last night together, though Robert had known in advanced that it would be. It was as close as he had ever come to true happiness.
However what he told the bartender was a story about his favorite uncle, and how he'd been missing for several days, and this was one of the last places he'd been known to be, or at least his phone had been. He'd checked in from there about 22 hours ago, and did she remember seeing him?
She thought about it for a moment, and remembered seeing this guy out in the parking lot with a bunch of other guys, well dressed men, and that one of them had been trying to talk to Pearl, one of the dancers. She pointed her out to him.
He thanked her, relief evident on his face, and she gave him a very sympathetic look, and he could tell she was feeling the warm glow that came with helping someone out.
He turned to go to Pearl and saw that she was talking to what he took to be the owners of the motorcycles parked ouside. He hesitated and for a moment considering his actions, but determined that this situation was one that couldn't wait.
She was sitting on the lap of one of the bikers, looking for all the world like she was having a good time, but Robert could see the nervous tension she held in her back muscles, like she was ready to flee. He put a delicate hand on her shoulder and she craned her neck around to look at him and he circled her to be at about a 45 degree angle to her, the optimal angle for a woman when she is unfamiliar with you.
"I'm sorry to bother you miss," be said in a polite but nervous voice. The two bikers looked at him in disbelief for a moment as if he had grown another head. "...but I was told you might know something about my uncle."
"Hey, asshole. You blind or somethin'?"
Robert turned to the biker looking nervous, and stammering, " I-I-I'm sorry sir I just w-"
"Don't you sir me you little panty waist, I work for a living." Robert filed that away for later, under Marine Sergeant, probably a drill instructor, though not for many years by the looks of him. The orc was built like a Sherman Tank, round and slow but powerful when he hit. He wore leather head to toe, except for a sleeveless leather vest, with long hair which showed signs of helmets use, and a large red beard. "Now turn your little scrawny elf ass around and walk away before I toss you away like a cord 'o firewood."
Robert appeared to look nervously, and helplessly around, and noted some details, which he put together into a coherent picture of the man. There was a line where a wedding ring should have been, and a tattoo on his arm with a male and female name and date, about 10 and 14 years ago respectively, right below the one he had expected to see on his shoulder, the eagle, globe and anchor of the marine corps insignia.
He straightened his shoulders and stood up straighter, and showed himself to be more confident, making a show of noticing the Marine Tattoo for the first time.
"Semper Fi, Sergeant," he said, and the biker blinked once and shook his head. "I'm not here to take the young lady away from you, and I'll only be a moment. D'you have a family young man?" he asked slipping ever so slightly into a southern accent similar to the one the biker had used.
"Uh... yes, sir." Just by his tone and wording the biker had assumed that Robert was a higher rank than he was.
"And I know you would do anything to protect them, like any good marine who has ever uttered the sacred vow, Semper Fideleus. Always Faithful." The biker nodded mutely, and Robert nodded back. "Well Sergeant, this is a matter of family, and one I must resolve as quickly as possible. I'll let this nice young lady return to you very soon, I promise, if you will allow me the courtesy of a few minutes of her time."
Both the bikers were looking at him mutely, and nodding their heads in a slight daze, as if they couldn't quite work out what was going on.
Robert smiled thinly at them took hold of the girl Pearl's upper arm and gently steered her toward the door of the club, and onto the street outside, and slightly up the block toward the little parking lot.
"Don't worry, we'll be in sight of the bouncers outside. I don't intend to hurt you, I just need to ask you a couple quick questions, then I would recommend taking the rest of the night off, since you didn't really want to be with the bikers."
She gasped. "Was I really that obvious?"
He smiled at her, to calm her nerves. "Only to me."
Then suddenly there was a roar from inside, and the sound of a table being flipped and tossed into other tables.
"We don't appear to have much time, so have you seen this man?" He held out the picture to her.
"W-w-whhu-uh... Yes. Yeah I saw him last night, he was with one particular group. I remember him because..."
Then at that moment the door crashed open, and the bikers appeared in it.
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Miranda cut him Robert off at this point. "And that's where I come in, which makes it MY TURN!" She bounced and giggled as Robert raised an eyebrow.
In his Richard G Dean voice he said, "My dear you need some professional help. But I will concede the floor to you, if that is your wish." His features seemed to slowly drift back toward the neutral expression always worn by Robert.
Miranda smirked, and looked at Davin. "So there I was in the strip club, showing off the girls..." she wiggled her ample breasts back and forth a little, and Davin's eyes went wide, while Bernard and Gary both grinned and looked at each other. "When all of the sudden... Oh Hang on..." she smacked the heel of her hand into her forehead lightly, and playfully. "I forgot to tell you how I got here!"
****************************** Chapter 8 part 1
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