Emily laid the photos back on the desk and plopped down into her chair to think for a few moments. Doing the favor for Townsend was a bi-product. She’d been planning on looking into Golden Dawn and its “prophet” anyway. Now she could kill two birds with one stone. Never the less, something still didn’t feel right.
Chapter 44
Will Hastings held up his police badge as he walked through the police line and past the onlookers and flashing cameras. It was too early in the morning to have to deal with this.
Growing up in an orphanage had made him tough. Will had been at the top of his class in everything he’d ever done all the way back to first grade. He’d applied to a special program in the Justice Department right out of college and had breezed through the rigorous physical, psychological, and mental trials that had been the downfall of many others.
Upon completion of the training course, he had received an odd letter requesting a meeting in a specific location. All the letter had said was that he would be provided the opportunity of a lifetime and would never have to worry about money again.
Later that night, at the appointed time, Will had gone to the meeting place specified in the correspondence. He’d been curious and the place was public enough, just outside a coffee shop in downtown Washington.
A black Yukon had pulled up and the rear door opened. Inside, an old man sat smiling at him. “Looks like rain. Need a lift?” he’d asked insistently.
Will nodded and stepped into the vehicle.
His life had changed dramatically since that day. The Prophet had told him about the mission of Golden Dawn and how it would make the world a better place. He explained that soon, they would have the power to wipe out all of the useless and evil people in the world and start the human race over again.
Will had developed a keen hatred of criminals and other people who bled the government dry every month. He hadn’t really bought into the religious mumbo jumbo that The Prophet had been spouting. For him, it was enough that he wanted to cleanse the earth of the riff-raff. Extreme? Maybe. Or was it more extreme that criminals were housed in prisons all over the country at the expense of billions in taxpayer dollars. And what of all the useless people who’d been on welfare for years, doing nothing but sucking money out of the system. To Will, the Prophet’s proposal appealed to him on that level.
When an archaeologist in Atlanta had discovered clues the old man believed would lead to an ancient stone somewhere in North Georgia, Will had moved to Atlanta to work with the city’s Police Department. The paperwork had been put together quickly and no one had thought anything about the transfer. Even fewer bothered to ask questions. The Prophet was well-connected, indeed.
The only downside to using a cover as a police officer was actually having to do police work. Small price to pay for the benefits he was receiving. The Prophet had been very generous.
Will walked through a few more ranks of officers and CSIs before arriving at the motionless heap on the ground.
The body was on its side, lifeless eyes staring off into the hill to the east. A hole in the forehead signaled the likely cause of death, a thin line of dried blood tracing from it to the point where it had dripped onto the ground.
Hastings had no problem looking at the man he’d killed the night before. The man had served his purpose. The man had been Will’s surveillance puppet, ordered to watch Tommy Schultz from the moment he’d announced his initial discovery. The man had followed his orders, for the most part. In the end, though, he had to die.
“How was your vacation?” The familiar voice of his partner Trent Morris came from behind him.
Will turned and saw the tall, stately figure holding two cups of coffee. His tan trench coat was a contrast to his dark brown skin. Trent had grown up in a tough neighborhood on the east side of Atlanta. He’d decided early in life he would choose the right path, something that had gotten him in a few tight spots as a youth. As he’d grown older, though, his reputation commanded respect from all.
“One of those for me?” Will asked with a grin, his breath coming out of his mouth like fog in the cold air.
Trent held out one of the steaming cups. “It’s the least I could do.”
Morris had been a police officer for a few decades and was extremely popular within the department. He always took good care of the people around him and treated everyone with respect yet was unafraid to use his authority when needed. He was a true leader.
Will hoped he wouldn’t have to kill Trent at some point. He liked the man. Personal ties, however, had to be severed sometimes.
“I suppose I don’t really need you here but I just want to make sure your involved as much as possible whenever something comes up. The more you get hands on the better.” There was a hint at something in the tall, black man’s voice but Will couldn’t place what it was. He went on. “Obviously, two gun shot wounds. One to the head. One in the chest. Looks to be close range.”
Will knelt down and examined the body more closely, examining his handiwork. “Forty caliber,” he said in a hushed tone.
“Mmmhmm,” Trent agreed. “Ballistics should confirm that.”
Hastings stood again and took a gulp of the hot coffee. “Who is he?”
Trent looked distant for a moment then said, “Walk with me.”
Confused, Will obeyed and followed as his partner began walking away from the crime scene towards a little patch of bushes and trees just out of earshot of the other people working in the area.
“What is it?”
Morris looked around in all directions as if making sure no one could hear. “Officially, we don’t have a positive ID. When the report comes out, it’s going to be listed as a drug deal gone bad. It has all the makings of an execution so that’s what we’re going to call it.”
“So we’re going to do a cover up? Why?” Will appeared dubious.
Trent pulled closer and when he spoke it was barely above a whisper being extra careful that no one could hear. “Because the victim is a federal agent.”
Chapter 45
The morning had been busy. Sean and Adriana had gone to some shops in Buckhead that he knew would be open in the morning hours. His Spanish companion had needed some clothes due to their hasty escape from the desert. So they’d spent thirty minutes grabbing some things she would need for the next few days. Hardly the way either one of them would have prepared for a trip to another continent but under the circumstances, it would suffice.
Satisfied they had all their required supplies, they drove in contemplative silence to the airport. Sean pulled his sedan up to the outside of a private hangar on the outskirts of Hartsfield International. Enormous black letters designated that the gray-metal facility belonged to the IAA.
After they’d removed their bags from the trunk, he and Adriana walked around the front corner of the building and through the huge opening. Inside, a white G5 jet with the same black lettering stood silently in the cavernous recesses of the hangar.
Tommy was busily checking some paperwork off to the side where his car sat near the interior wall. A few mechanics and maintenance workers were going through their routine check sheets to make sure the plane was going to operate as it should.