John: The Senior Killer
Robert C. Waggoner
Prologue
“Candice, I declare this is the finest afghan I’ve ever seen,” a perfect voice for an old lady was heard.
“Oh go on with you. That old thing. I made it twenty years ago when my dear husband felt the chill upon him,” she replied in a likewise creaky voice of her eighty plus years.
“I know dear,” as she fingered the material, “but such design and color.”
“I’m glad you like it and I would like to give it to you for a present.”
“No, I couldn't accept such a fine gift and it was your husbands. I don’t want to take something you can remember him by,” she said with an eye on his victim.
He was dressed like an old woman. A perfect disguise as it was his profession. Now he had his sights on ending Candice’s life. She was too old and time for her to move on. Under his long dress in a special holster on one leg, a Marlin spike lay ready to end her life. On the other leg a hammer in another holster waited for use against the head of the Marlin spike. Now it was time to put it to use.
Candice said, “I insist you take it. I know you are moving to Redding and I’ve no need for it here in Barstow.”
Changing the subject he said, while rubbing his neck, “I have been having trouble with my neck muscles lately and the doctor suggested a neck rub would do a person good. Do you ever have a stiff neck Candice?”
“Oh my yes, even now I feel a tightness there.”
“Let me show you how the doctor showed me to rub the stiffness out,” as he slowly rose up and moved behind her. From his dress pocket he took out a bottle of Efficascent Oil. He showed her the bottle and said, “This is camphor plus menthol and it feels wonderful on the skin and relaxes the muscles.”
Candice looked at the bottle and smelled the contents as she removed the lid. “My, this is nice and I love the smell. Do you mind putting some on my neck?”
“Not at all but could you unbutton a few of your buttons so I can reach your neck easier? Candice did as she requested and soon he had a nice view of her neck and where the spinal cord entered the skull. “Please lean you neck forward a little dreary so I can better rub your tired old muscles.” He began to slowly rub the oil on her skin and soon the room smelled like camphor.
“My, that is nice and feels so warm. Already I feel better.”
“This only takes a few minutes,” he said as he reached for the spike with one hand and quickly grabbed the hammer with the other as Candice gave off little moans of delight. He had the spike by the sharp end and was rubbing with the heel of his hand while placing the sharp end next to the entry hole to the brain. He practiced this many times on a mannequin and gave the blunt end of the spike a blow sending the tip straight up into her brain. In one second she was dead. The oil fell from her hand to the old rug. He wiped off the spike on her old dress and returned it to the leg holster as well as the hammer. He picked up the bottle of oil and placed it in his bag; walked to the door of the tiny house and looked back once at the former Candice from Barstow, California. She was leaned over in her rocker with arms hanging down. She never knew what hit her.
Walking with a cane he closed the door quietly and slowly walked down the street to his old non – descript car. He didn’t care if someone saw him, he was just another old lady in a world that was fast becoming aged and he meant to whittle the old folks down a little. Like in his favorite book, “Sherlock Holmes” says to Watson: “The game is afoot.”
Chapter 1
Precarious was not the word Brad Pratt was thinking about. Stupid might be more like it. A roaring sound in his ears both from the sea and the wind made him think of being out here on a day like today; and the salt air and spray from the waves crashing into the rock, sent the pungent smell of the sea into his nose like someone using an inhaler for an allergy. It was a November afternoon with the tide coming in and hanging by his fingertips onto the rock wall of a sea stack proving he still had it after all this time. His mate, lying flat on the top of the rock, coal back hair flying in the wind stared at him through equally colored eyes without expression. His hands were numbing up and what footholds he had were not going to last long if he didn’t move. Up was the only way to go; down was to be thrashed against the rock from the pounding waves coming through the narrow gap into a bowl like cove from which he foolishly decided to prove he could climb the vertical wall without the use of pitons or such useless things. His ego always got the best of him and this time was no exception. He glanced down at the angry sea stirred up by the coming storms known as the Pineapple Express during this time of year in the Pacific Northwest.
Sweat dripped into his eyes and looking up again he saw a small smile raise her brown cheeks implying, what now big boy? You got yourself in this mess and now you get yourself out of it. Her grin pissed him off and with renewed determination he spied a finger hold and moved up a foot closer to the top. His heart pounding but his breathing normal he methodically made a plan and scampered to the top rolling over on his back as both his dog and his mate climbed on top of him while he let out a crazy laugh. He was soaked to the skin from first jumping into the water from the top at slack tide and from the spray from the waves crashing into the wall as he began his accent to prove he could still do it.
Lying on his back with Sujin on top of him brought back the nightmares that plagued him since Afghanistan. He lay wounded in a small cave completely delirious from the infection in his leg. To keep him quiet she lay on top of him with her hand over his mouth as the sounds of the Taliban crossed the rocky mountain trail. If found, she didn’t want to think about what they would do to the both of them; stories of captured enemy made her shudder and move her knife in her other hand closer to his jugular vein. First she would cut him and then herself if discovered. Sounds of rocks rolling down the mountain as they walked by; little conversation was heard, mostly just an occasional grunting as someone slipped on the narrow trail and more than one had met his Allah on such trails in the rugged mountains between Pakistan and Afghanistan.
He was still moaning from the fever, but the howling wind masked his sounds as all was quiet except the wind. She waited a few minutes more to make sure all was clear. His moaning stopped as he fell into a deep sleep. She crawled to the small opening cautiously to peer out and see if they had left a trailer behind as they usually did with mountains full of caves. She sniffed the wind and lay waiting for the next thirty minutes or so before she crawled back to check on the wounded American soldier. There was nothing on his person to say who he was. However, she could tell by his uniform and haircut he was American. Where did he come from and when she found him lying face down on the rocky trail she thought he was dead. Listening for a heartbeat through his back she heard the steady beat of a heart that was strong and regular, albeit fast. He was not small and it took all her strength and effort to drag him to a cave just large enough for a body to fit the opening. He must have sensed someone helping him as once she stood him up the pain of his leg must have brought him around, he used his hands and arms to drag himself into the cave only to pass out again as she followed him in. Going through his pack and pockets she found some meds. Totally unfamiliar with the names written on the meds, she discovered some packs with antibiotic written on them.
Part of her originally mission to Pakistan was for humanitarian reasons. The basics of first aid she knew, and quickly she opened the pack and shot him in his white butt with the injection. Next she looked at his wound in his thigh. The bullet had missed the femur and passed through the muscle and exited cleanly. He’d administered first aid to himself and had stopped the bleeding. She wondered how far he had traveled since being wounded. The old bandage she removed was smelly and caked with dried blood. From her pack she took some precious water and washed the wound. Applied a new bandage from his store of meds and waited for him to regain consciousness.