Part One - Chapter Eleven

Tuesday – May 19th – Stakeout – First 8 Hours

“This is boring, Rodgers. I could be out doing real cop stuff.”

“I don’t know how to break this to you, Al. This is real cop stuff. Give it another ten years, and you’ll be glad these assignments come up. How long have you been on the force; about a year?”

“Fifteen months, but I didn’t become a cop just to sit in a car and watch the neighborhood.”

“It’s more than that. If something goes down on our watch, it becomes our responsibility. Remember the words? Serve, protect and….”

“And defend; of course, I remember. But how often does a stakeout really turn into anything; especially on a guy that hasn’t committed a crime, go wrong?”

“Al, I know of two times, and one of them was a personal. One of those two times I was involved. I caught a bullet I’m still carrying around inside me to this day.”

“No way! For real?’

“Real as I’m sitting here. Four years ago; only I was watching a house we knew was a crack haven for cookers. Big money going in and out around the clock. We had a man on the inside. Things went down. It all went too fast. Nothing was supposed to happen until our undercover gave the signal. He was killed. I called for backup. I caught one next to my heart and I mean right up against it.

“I had to go through a complete medical fitness exam after surgery, and then get approval from my therapist and surgeons to return to full duty. Administration wanted me to retire. I wanted to finish my twenty.”

“Looks like you won that one. You’re here.”

“Exactly.”

“What happened with the cookers and dealers?”

“Let’s just say over the course of a few months, there were a lot of funerals.”

“Son-of-a-bitch.”

Stakeout – Next 8 Hours

“Roz, there’s been no movement since we got here; in or out.”

“Good. Makes our job easier. You guys take care and get some rest. See ya tomorrow.”

Roz, short for Rosalynn, was in her eleventh year as a police officer. Her partner, Sallie (Salvatore) Vechellio, was also a nine-year veteran, were kicking back, parked in the same spot that Rodgers and Al had just left from. Both were munching down on burgers and chicken tenders they got at Burger King.

Roz brought a book along to read. A friend of hers recommended ‘Bone Garden’ by Tess Gerritsen. Sallie was into crossword puzzles. Both were expecting a boring night. But Roz decided to sweeten the pot and brought along a portable DVD-player and a couple action movies just in case.

But Roz, like Sallie, also knew to keep a watchful eye.

Stakeout – The Next 8 Minutes

It was barely six in the morning when Mack and Dennis pulled up alongside Roz and Sallie’s unmarked car. Dennis hit the car’s remote button on the passenger door panel and the window lowered.

“Hey, you two, you asleep in there? Wake the hell up. The Calvary is here to save your ass.”

Dennis turned and grinned broadly at Mack with his joke, then looked back at the car and still saw no movement.

Dennis opened his door. and stepped from the car and began banging on the driver side window, when he realized through the tinted window, the shadow reflected a body against the window.

He grabbed the handle on the door and opened it. Then he could make out smears of dried blood across the interior of the car, along the dash and splattered on the inside of the windshield. Roz and Sallie’s bodies had slumped on opposite sides of each other.

He took all this in in a matter of seconds and turned back to Mack, screaming, “Oh shit, Mack! Both are down. Call it in, Mack! Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, they are a mess!”

Dennis couldn’t hold off any longer.

He bent between both cars and threw up.

Two Hours Before

Tied down in his own bed, electrical tape wrapped around his mouth and fully naked, Fredrick Allen Mosher was drenched in his own sweat, and urine. He was petrified.

Things had moved so suddenly. The knock on the door. The friendly face. The warm greeting. Then came a fist. A kick. Another punch. Why? It made no sense. The police! Downstairs, outside somewhere. Where are they? They promised to protect me! He heaved a sigh and tears flowed openly.

“Cry, you little fat wimp. You useless piece of garbage. Cry all you want. Before this is over, you will cry even more, but it won’t matter. You won’t be able to hear yourself cry and scream, except in your mind. You won’t be able to do much of anything when I’m finished with you.”

That was when he displayed the Bowie knife and stepped closer to the bed and slowly sliced off Mosher’s right ear.

Mosher’s body lifted from the mattress as far as his restraints would allow, and his grunts and groans of agony went upon deaf ears. He could feel blood oozing down and behind his neck.

Then off came the left ear, as Mosher, his eyes wide in sheer panic, shook his head from side to side, the pain doubly intense, so to the fear.

His silent muffled screams would have shattered glass were he not gagged.

“See, that wasn’t so bad now, was it? Me? I didn’t feel a thing. But I think you might have.”

He trailed the Bowie knife up and down Mosher’s chest to forehead and stopped just below his right eye.

“Now this; this may cause you some direct pain to your brain. Oh, how forgetful I am. You are too fucking lame to have one of those. So, you shouldn’t feel a thing.”

One hand holding Mosher’s right eye open, his other hand filled with the sharp blade, he inserted the tip into the far corner, pressed in, curling the tip behind the eye, then pulled forward until the eyeball popped out with a dull “plop”, and rolled off the side of Mosher’s face to the mattress.

Mosher was beside himself, captured in the fear and sheer turmoil that had befallen him. Even in all his pain, his fear, covered in his own blood; he couldn’t believe this person to be so cruel, this heartless to do such a terrible thing.

His thoughts were quickly disturbed as he felt his other eye dissected and devastated, then cast aside. His body continued to shake as if in a seizure of ungodly fear as if the devil himself were torturing him.

“See? The tears are all gone now. Isn’t that much better? But I’m afraid I must hurry along. Sorry. I would really like to stay and chat with you longer, but I have places to go, people to do; you do understand, right? You don’t, but I do.”

And just that quickly, the Bowie knife sliced through the air, Fredrick Allen Mosher no longer was concerned about his pain.

The blade sliced deftly across his throat, nearly severing Mosher’s head from his neck. Blood spurted as water does from a fire hydrant. Rampant.

Then two more sweeping slashes, and Mosher’s chest was split open.

“Now your soul can run free. And when it comes time, it will be judged. Don’t be surprised at a guilty verdict.”

Cutting away the electrical tape, he opened Mosher’s mouth and pulled out his tongue as far as possible, and deftly sliced it off.

Blood was everywhere; just like the other bodies, but this one was extra-special: 3 for the price of 1.

Looking at himself, making certain none of the plastic he wore was either torn or ripped away; that his surgical gloves weren’t torn as well, Freddy was very pleased. Leaving evidence behind wouldn’t do.

He placed his three newest evils in a plastic bag and left one of two notes for them to find.

LLEH NI EVIL OT LIVE DRATSAB

Briefly, he thought about the other two outside in the car. A pity, but in war, casualties are expected. He really hates using guns on innocent people, but, sometimes, one must love what he hates most and just go for it.