Chapter 3: Darth Vader

Several alerts erupted from William’s phone well before sunrise on Friday morning. He was a light sleeper and the first sound he heard made him bolt upright in bed. Jimmy had set custom ringtones on Williams’s phone, from the obvious contacts such as Richard, most of the vice presidents that reported to William, and of course, Jimmy himself. Jimmy also programmed rules into the phone that would react to keywords with messages he sent and play an additional tone. When he explained to William what he had done, he explained, “These additional sounds are only for real emergencies. I put in three levels. Must read and respond ASAP, 9-1-1, and my favorite, holy shit, the fuckin’ world is on fire.”

William reached for his phone hoping against hope that he had misheard the alert, but in his heart he knew that he had just gotten a “the fuckin’ world is on fire” message from Jimmy. He opened his message app and found only the simple message, “On my way. Be there in fifteen. Be ready to roll.”

“Fuck,” muttered William as he tried to get out of bed without waking his wife. Of course, she heard him and rolled over.

“Is everything OK?” Annie asked.

“Sorry to wake you, hon. Yeah, same old bullshit. It seems like we’re good after talking to Richard, then he throws a monkey wrench into the mix.”

“Fucking Richard,” Annie said as she rolled over and closed her eyes.

William smiled as he looked at his wife. Normally, she never cursed, but when it came to Richard and his antics, she could vent like a sailor.

Ten minutes later William had pulled on his suit pants, shoes, and dress shirt. In his hand he carried a tie and the suit jacket. He went to Annie’s side of the bed and leaned over to give her a kiss.

“Jimmy should be here any minute. See you tonight. Love you.”

Annie grunted in reply, “Love you, too. Lock the door on your way out.”

William exited the front and as he pulled it closed he saw headlights turn into his u-shaped driveway. He reached the car as it stopped in front of the steps, then slid into the backseat without waiting for Jimmy to exit.

“Tell me,” was all William said as he sunk into the plush leather seat.

Jimmy turned at the waist and passed William a large black coffee.

“About four hours ago Senator Atkins was killed entering his house by a long range sniper. Local cops played it smart and didn’t call it out on the radio so the news hasn’t hit the national circuit yet, but don’t be misled, the shit-show is coming.”

“Fucking world is on fire,” was all William said as he took a drink of coffee.

Jimmy reached the exit of the neighborhood and turned to the left, which was the opposite direction of the office.

“The clubhouse?” asked William.

“Yes,” responded Jimmy. “I hope that’s OK. Damien and Lucy are going to meet us in,” Jimmy looked at the clock on the dash, “about twenty-five minutes.”

Before William could ask, Jimmy continued, “I also sent a notice to our three investigators. They will be ready to join the meeting by conference call when you are ready. For now, they are laying low and making sure they didn’t leave any breadcrumbs in their queries into the senator.”

Jimmy looked into the rear view mirror and saw William nod his assent. He then leaned his head back on the headrest and closed his eyes. Jimmy knew this was not in response to being tired, but William’s way of focusing his thoughts on pressing matters.

William opened his eyes when he heard the telltale rattle of the rusty garage door. They were in a driveway into an old factory on the edge of the manufacturing district. Most of the warehouses in the area were vacant, or were used only to house ancient equipment that companies had not yet taken the time to sell for scrap.

Jimmy pulled in, pushed the button to close the door, then carefully navigated the car around large piles of debris strategically placed to hide the interior of the building. Clearing the last mound he could see that there were two other cars already parked.

“Damien and Lucy are here,” he said as he pulled in alongside a Porsche SUV. “Where do you want me?”

William had exited the car and paused before he slammed the rear door shut. “Stay in the car but keep your ears open.” He started to push the door, then changed his mind, “Fuck it, we know you’re going to be needed, so come on up.”

Jimmy exited the car and followed his boss up a small flight of stairs and then into a small room with a large window that at one time let a manager oversee the production on the factory floor. Now it was William’s super-secret executive briefing center. The large windows that had given the manager from yesteryear a clear view of the floor were covered with thick drapes. The rag-tag office furniture that had been used for decades was part of the debris piles used to disguise the current layout. The room held a ten-person conference table with high-back leather chairs at one end of the room, with three lounge chairs and a couch on the other. A fully stocked bar sat just before a door that led to a small kitchen and bathroom in the back.

“Lucy, Damien,” said William as he opened the door. They replied in kind.

Jimmy entered and immediately went to the kitchen. He found a half-empty pot of coffee. He carried it to the three at the table and topped off their cups before returning to make a fresh pot. He continued to busy himself in the kitchen until called for by William.

From the head of the table William looked to his left and right. Neither Lucy nor Damien were employees of Argonne Industries. Officially, and in reality, they were the owners of companies sub-contracted by Argonne Oil and Gas to perform various discovery and analytic tests before drilling in new locations. Unofficially, they were William’s fixers.

Without preamble, William said, “Atkins was killed this morning. Was it Darth Vader? He was always an up-close-and-personal killer. A knife, or maybe a snub-nosed pistol. A sniper shot doesn’t seem like his motif.”

Lucy said, “Twenty years ago you are absolutely correct. Now-a-days, he likes to stay clean and use a rifle at range. Especially when it can be as simple as waiting for the senator to get home, then when he exits his car pull the trigger and disappear without a trace.”

“Is that what happened?” asked William.

Damien answered, “More or less. My contact at the FBI is a bit cagey. They got to the scene about an hour ago. From what he said, the senator was killed by a rifle. The round hit him in the chest and disintegrated his guts as well as the bullet itself, so they couldn’t assume a direction of the shot. They canvassed the area but did not find evidence of where the shooter stood.”

“No cigarette butts or foot imprints in the wet garden soil?” joked William morbidly. “So nothing?”

“Almost. One neighbor got up to pee and on the way back to bed he said he heard a pop and looked out the window. He saw a motion sensor light from across the street go off. He assumed an animal knocked over a trashcan and just went to bed. There are no fences at the house with the light, and it abuts a different neighborhood. The current thinking is the shooter parked in the other neighborhood, waited somewhere with a good line of sight, and then after taking the shot scooted back through the yards, and into the bordering neighborhood and his parked vehicle.”

“That’s starting to sound more like Vader,” William said. “Lucy, anything to add?”

“Unfortunately, my closest line-of-contact to Vader died a few years ago. Breast cancer. Only fifty-one years old. I’ve established a few other contacts, but we’ve never worked together so they’re very guarded. Best I can get is that Vader had two really big jobs last year and then went underground. The last they heard, there were feelers being sent to engage him in another big one that would take him through the end of this year.”

“A senator would qualify as ‘another big one.’ And if Richard reached out in person, there would be no middle-men. He’d call directly and the job would be done.”

Jimmy came from the kitchen carrying a tray and a fresh pot of coffee.

“Cinnamon buns. Sorry, they are from a can, but they look good.” He poured more coffee and plated the pastries for each person at the table.