The Fugitive's Trail (25 page)

Springfield, MO

The GT Mustang engine’s growl could be heard above the siren as Kruger accelerated toward the downtown area. Five minutes after Kruger and Joseph heard the broadcast over Childress’s radio, the car skidded to a stop in the parking lot of JR’s apartment. A patrol car arrived at the same time, and two officers got out. In the distance, Kruger could hear more sirens approaching. He saw two men in BDUs lying on the ground next to the apartment building entry door. Joseph jumped out and ran toward the two men. One of the police officers demanded that he halt, but Kruger yelled, “FBI, officer. FBI.” He held his badge up and rushed toward Joseph who was already kneeling next to the large sandy-haired man closest to the door.

Joseph yelled, “I need an ambulance,
now
!”

Kruger walked up to the other man on the ground and noticed a small hole just above his left eye; he knelt and closed the man’s eyes. He looked toward Joseph. “Is Sandy alive?”

Joseph nodded as he put pressure on the wound in the upper area of Sandy’s chest. “He won’t be if we don’t get an ambulance soon.” As he said that, an EMT vehicle and crew pulled into the parking lot, lights flashing and siren winding down. One of the technicians jumped out of the still-moving truck and ran to where Joseph was kneeling.

The EMT looked at Mike, then at Kruger, who shook his head.

Joseph stood and said to the EMT, “He took one in the chest. He’s alive.” As the emergency responder took over, Joseph backed up and got out of the woman’s way.

Joseph stared at Mike’s body and shook his head. Kruger walked over to him and placed his hand on his shoulder. He said nothing.

Joseph looked at Kruger. “Where’s JR?”

“He’s at the hospital with Mia. He’s been there most of the day.”

Joseph nodded and returned to staring at Mike.

As Kruger glanced around the area, he noticed something. Walking a few steps to the north, he knelt down and pointed to a small pool of a red liquid. “Sandy must have got a shot off before he took a bullet. Looks like Kozlov might have been hit.”

A uniformed police officer walked up to them. “I just got off the radio with Lieutenant Childress. He asked me to tell you he’s headed this way.”

Kruger looked at the officers nametag. “Thank you, Officer Hampton.”

Hampton continued, “We found a trail of blood that leads off toward the north. We’ve got cars headed that way and several men on foot following the trail.”

“Make sure your men know this guy is extremely dangerous. He’s already shot five individuals and killed four. Plus, he’s a suspect in two murders in New York City. I’m not going to tell you what to do, but take this guy down if you can.”

The officer nodded. “It’s already a standing order, agent.” He turned and walked back to a patrol car Kruger assumed was the command car.

One of the EMT technicians stood and walked to where Joseph was standing. “We’re ready to transport, but he wants to talk to you.”

Joseph hurried back to the medical gurney, and Kruger followed. Knoll’s voice was weak as he said, “What about Mike?” Joseph shook his head. Knoll closed his eyes. “I got several shots off. I think I hit him, but I can’t be sure.”

Joseph put his hand on Sandy’s arm. “You did. We’ll find him. What was he wearing?”

“Looked like a homeless guy. Baggy pants and shirt, dark boonie hat, and sunglasses.”

“Thanks, now let them take you to the hospital. I’ll be there later.”

Sandy nodded as the oxygen mask was placed back on his face and the gurney was wheeled to the waiting ambulance.

Kruger wandered over to the bushes next to the apartment after seeing something out of place. He bent down and moved the bushes a little. “I’ve got a gun here. Looks like a Ruger.” He motioned for one of the uniformed officers, who came over and put a red flag next to the gun.

More police cars arrived and another ambulance. Kruger watched as the original chaos evolved into orchestrated effort to figure out what happened. He scrutinized the surrounding area. The buildings were old, clustered together, with lots of places to hide and lots of ways to move around without being detected. He said to Joseph, “If he’s not found in the next few minutes, he’ll be in the wind again.”

Joseph nodded. “Most of the ones I dealt with in the eighties were well trained and knew how to evade capture. My guess is he’s already in the wind.”

Kruger stared off into the distance. “You’re probably right.”

***

The motel room smelled of insecticide and stale cigarette smoke. The bored teenager at the front desk had taken his money and barely glanced at him when he registered. The room was on the ground floor as far away from the street as possible. The old tube television was on with a local channel frantically trying to report the mayhem.

One of the talking heads in the studio stared intently into the camera. “We have a live report from Penny Harrison in downtown Springfield. Penny.”

“The apartment building behind me was the location of a gangland style shootout shortly after one this afternoon. One person was pronounced dead at the scene and another was taken to a local hospital. A third gunman is still on the loose and considered armed and dangerous. Police are not commenting about motive or who the suspected assailant might be. The FBI has been called in to help with the investigation. I spoke to an eyewitness a few minutes ago.”

The view of the reporter was replaced with a video of a tall, lanky woman with stringy blond hair. Her name was displayed under the video as she said, “I seen this homeless guy hangin’ around for several hours. He was a tall dude, at least six foot. He had a beard, he did. He just walked up to those two other fella’s and started shootin’.”

Kozlov laughed and turned off the television. With eyewitnesses like her, he would have no issues evading the manhunt. The bullet wound in his left arm throbbed. Checking it in the bathroom mirror, he noticed blood soaking through the gauze. While the bullet had not struck bone, it had passed through the bicep muscle. Using techniques his instructors had pounded into his head all those years ago, he’d been able to mostly stop the bleeding. But the wound would continue to ooze blood for a few more hours. He would survive without the help of a doctor. The clothes from the old man’s closet had been placed in a plastic garbage bag and tossed into a dumpster a mile from Diminski’s place.

Remembering the words of a long-dead instructor, he was hiding in plain sight. Before checking into the motel, he had driven the nurse’s car to a crowded Walmart on the north side of Springfield. After purchasing a small electric screwdriver inside the store, he had swapped the license plates with one from another white Focus he’d found in the employee parking area. This plan would work as long as the owner didn’t get stopped by the police. All Kozlov needed was a few days and he would be gone.

After changing the gauze on his wound, he put on a long-sleeved shirt to cover the bandage and left the motel room to find something to eat.

***

Mia had been upgraded from critical to stable, so JR sat next to her bed holding her hand as they listened to Kruger summarizing the search for Kozlov. “Weber will be extradited back to New York for the murder of Sharon. He faces other charges in both Greene and Stone County for your kidnapping and attempted murder, but I thought it best to get him out of the state.”

She nodded but remained quiet.

JR said, “Where Kozlov?”

“He vanished. The police followed a blood trail for about a quarter of mile. They lost the trail after that.”

JR stared at Kruger and was silent. Mia said, “Where’s Joseph and his men. I wanted to thank them. I wouldn’t be here if they hadn’t found me.”

“They’re downstairs sitting in the waiting area. Sandy’s still in surgery.”

Having not said a word since Kruger’s arrival, JR finally said, “All of this is my fault.”

Kruger shook his head. “Not really. They started it, JR.”

JR stood and walked to the window. The scenery was stark. The front lobby rooftop was two stories below, littered with air-conditioning units and piping. The wall across from the window was another wing of the hospital. He stared out the window and unconsciously watched a nurse pull shades together on a window in the other wing. Finally he walked back to Mia’s bed and held her hand again. After kissing her on the forehead, he said, “I need to do something. I’ll be back as soon as I can. Okay?”

She looked up at him and smiled. “Be careful.”

He nodded and walked out of the room, followed by Kruger.

As they walked toward the elevators, Kruger said, “What do you have in mind?”

JR turned to look at him. “Something I have to do. Something you might not want to know about.”

Kruger smiled as the elevator door opened. “I have a really bad memory. Tell me.”

***

Five minutes after arriving at his apartment, he had hacked into the Verizon servers and found the phone number he needed. JR set up the call using various servers across the globe to hide his true location. When he was ready, he made the call using VoIP and waited for the call to be answered. The first call rang seven times before going to voice mail. The second call was answered on the fifth ring.

“Hello.”

“Abel Plymel, this is the man you’ve been looking for.”

There was silence on the other end of the call. Finally, “How do I know this?”

JR was somewhat surprised at the slight Russian accent he detected. “That’s the trouble with guys like you; you never take responsibility for your actions.”

“You have my money. I want it back.” Kozlov’s voice was low and menacing.

JR smiled. “I want you to leave me alone.”

“The money first, then we will discuss leaving you alone.”

“Plymel, I can find you anywhere. I found you today. I can find you tomorrow. Here’s my offer. You get your money back, you disappear, and you never bother me again. In exchange, I won’t tell the authorities where you are. You come after me again and I’ll burn you.”

Silence was JR’s answer. He continued, “I have a little of the money in a safe deposit box and will give you the accounts and access codes to get the rest.”

“That will do me no good, the US government has frozen all of my money.”

“I’ll release them.”

“How can you do that?”

“Because I’m the one denying your access.”

There was silence on the call. After what seemed like an hour, Kozlov said, “Your proposal has merit. How do I know you aren’t setting a trap?”

“You don’t, but then you could plan to kill me after I give you the money. So we both have a problem with trust, don’t we?”

“Yes.”

“Here is my proposal. I’ll put the cash I have in a computer bag. In addition, the bag will contain a flash drive with the account numbers and access codes for your money. I will then place the bag in an open field in a remote location. Far enough from any structure the FBI might use to hide and wait for you. However, I won’t tell you about this location until I have the money in place. You can then take your time making sure I haven’t set a trap.”

“This is interesting proposal. Let me think about it.”

“Nope, that’s not how this works. You accept it right now or I’ll call the FBI and tell them where you are.”

“You do not know where I am. You just have the number for this phone.”

“False again, Plymel. I know you’re in a No Tell Motel on the northeast side of town about a half a mile from I-44.”

“Impressive. Okay, I agree to your terms. When will we make the exchange? I don’t have a lot of time to wait.”

“Everything is ready. I’ll call you when the money’s in place.” He ended the call and smiled.

Kruger had been listening to the call in a chair next to JR. “Remind me after this is over never to piss you off.”

JR stared at the computer screen for a few minutes. “I have to do this myself Sean. I can’t be responsible for any more deaths.”

“I can’t let you take the law into your own hands, JR.”

“Yes you can. This guy is responsible for the deaths of your partner and three innocent people. That’s not even counting Crigler and his driver. There are too many bodies associated with this man. If my idea fails, you can do what you need to do, but my plan is better.”

Kruger stared at him and was silent for a long time. “Okay, we’ll try it your way. I’ll go to the hospital and check on Sandy. Call me if you need me.”

JR nodded. “If things go sideways, tell Mia I love her.”

Kruger stood and walked to the computer room door. As he was about to leave, he turned around. “Tell her yourself when you get back.” He smiled and left the room.

Leaning back in his chair, JR took a deep breath and said to the empty room, “Yeah, when I get back.”

Greene County, MO

The land was in a remote part of northwestern Greene County Missouri, halfway between Bois D’Arc and Ash Grove off Missouri Route F. Access was by gravel road and there wasn’t a tree or hill for half a mile in any direction. The only structure visible from where JR stood was an old dilapidated barn a little over eight hundred yards to the north. The Camry was parked and hidden in a grove of Black Walnut trees a mile and a half west. The hike to this spot had taken a little over thirty minutes.

The location had been discovered using Google Earth. Once he had decided to use this location, he was concerned about the age of the satellite photos, but now that he was here, the site was perfect. The long duffel bag he carried was from the cargo section of Sandy Knoll’s SUV, which was still parked at his apartment building. He placed the duffel bag on the ground and slid his backpack off of his shoulders. From the backpack, he extracted a black leather computer bag, which contained twenty-thousand dollars in hundred-dollar bills and a flash drive. He placed the bag on the ground.

The next item he pulled from his backpack was a small red flag, left over from the parking-lot crime scene. He stuck it in the ground next to the bag. Satisfied everything was in place, he started hiking toward the barn.

JR wasn’t sure how long it had been abandoned, and he was a little concerned about its structural integrity. As he approached, his concern was justified. The building leaned slightly and the wood exposed to the sunlight felt brittle to the touch. Carefully, he opened a side door and entered. The barn smelled of rotting hay and mildew. Sunlight poured into the structure through gaps between the side planks. Looking up, he found what he needed: a loft ten feet off the barn floor. On the opposite side of the structure were wooden stair steps leading to the loft. He quickly walked across the barn and set the duffel on the floor. Carefully placing his weight on the bottom stair, he was rewarded with it snapping in two. Trying the next step, it also cracked and buckled downward.

Taking a deep breath, he frowned and looked around the interior of the barn.

On the opposite side, to the left of the door he had entered from, was a wooden ladder hanging on the wall. Returning to the other side of the barn, he slipped the backpack off. He took the ladder off the hooks and stood it up against the lip of the loft. It was at least fifteen feet long and extended beyond the edge of the loft. Placing his foot on the first rung, he gradually applied pressure. It held and felt solid. Smiling briefly, he carefully repeated the process on each of the remaining rungs. The ladder was strong and held his weight with no problems. Not wanting to test his luck, he retrieved the duffel bag and only carried it as he made the ascent to the loft.

Once in place in the barn’s loft, he called Alexei Kozlov. It was answered on the second ring.

“Where is the bag?”

JR read off the directions, telling Kozlov which farm road to turn on and how far the bag was from the road. Then he said, “You can drive up to it. There will be a small red flag to mark the spot.”

“No tricks, hacker. I’ll be checking the area out before I retrieve the bag.”

“Do what you want to do. The bag is there waiting for you.”

JR ended the call and glanced at the time on his phone. Four hours of daylight left. Kozlov would not be able to find the bag in the dark, so he concluded everything would be over before nightfall. JR smiled and opened the duffel bag.

***

After the first call from Diminski, Kozlov left the motel room. He wasn’t sure how he had been found, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. Sitting in a Bob Evans diner three hours later, he received the information on the bag’s location. He knew he was running out of time driving the nurse’s white Ford, so once he had the bag he would drive to Kansas City. Once there, he would decide where to go.

The instructions Diminski gave were exact and led him to a remote piece of land. He drove around for another fifteen minutes until he was confident no one was staking out the site. Smiling, he turned the little Ford onto a gravel road that led to the field. The red flag was visible about a hundred feet from the entrance to the field, and he accelerated the Ford toward it.

Ten feet from the black bag, he parked the car. He carefully opened the car door and stood. The only sound he could hear was the ticking of the car’s hot engine. He smiled again and walked toward the bag.

***

Diminski had not shot a rifle at this distance for more than ten years. But once he was behind the scope on the M110 SASS semiautomatic sniper rifle, all of his training flooded back. He watched from the barn’s loft as the white Ford pulled up to the red flag and stopped a few yards from the bag. Kozlov exited the car and surveyed the area before he walked toward the bag. At this distance, a headshot would be difficult, but the man’s chest was possible.

Peering through the scope, he made slight adjustments to his aim based on the heat shimmers from the field and the slight breeze he could see from the red flag. As Kozlov walked, JR tried to relax, hoping his training would take over. As he prepared for the shot, he took a breath, released it slowly, and squeezed the trigger of the rifle. It broke and the rifle jumped back with the recoil. He sighted again and watched the bullet strike the ground two feet to Kozlov’s left. Before the man could react, JR adjusted his aim and squeezed the trigger again. This bullet struck Kozlov just above the heart and the body slumped to the ground. It remained still as JR peered through the scope.

Diminski didn’t take the time to admire his work; instead, he dissembled the rifle and placed it back inside the long duffel bag. He climbed down the rickety ladder, picked up his backpack, and slung it on to his shoulder. Exiting the barn, he jogged toward the white Ford.

When he arrived, Kozlov was lying on the ground, his hand over a spot on his chest that was bleeding profusely. He looked up at JR. “I continue to underestimate you, hacker.”

“Your mistake.”

Kozlov stared at JR for a few more moments, opened his mouth to say something, but only exhaled. His eyes remained open, but his chest did not rise.

Without emotion, JR looked down at the now dead man. This surprised him, all during the planning stage, he had worried about his emotions. He was afraid he would feel something, something to trip him up. A moment of regret or fear would make him hesitate. Now that it was over, he felt nothing. No remorse, no jubilation, no relief, nothing. In the back of his mind, he wondered what having no emotions about killing a person meant. He shook his head to clear the thought.

Walking back to the white Ford, he opened the back door and placed the duffel bag on the back seat. He took the backpack and placed it on the ground next to the rear wheel close to the car’s bumper. After opening the trunk, he returned to the body. He then dragged Kozlov back to the car and with difficulty lifted him into the trunk. Before closing the lid, he searched the pockets of the jacket the man was wearing. He found a passport, driver’s license, and a credit card in the name of Alexei Kozlov. These items were placed in the backpack. He removed a similar-looking passport from the backpack and placed it in the pocket of Kozlov’s jacket. Satisfied, he closed the trunk lid and put the backpack on the back seat next to the duffel bag. The last thing to do was retrieve the red flag and computer bag, which he threw into the back seat as he got behind the steering wheel and started the car.

The trip to his gray Camry took five minutes. He transferred the duffel bag, backpack, computer bag, and red flag to the trunk of the Camry. Returning to the Focus, he activated the GPS function on his phone and entered a destination.

An hour later, he was in Bolivar, Missouri, purchasing two sixty-pound sandbag tubes at a farm supply store. His next stop was a Walmart a half-mile to the north. There, he purchased a set of black sheets, a boonie hat, a large plaid shirt, sunglasses, a cigarette lighter, and two bicycle locking chains. With his purchases in the back seat, he left the parking lot and drove to the north side of Bolivar. At the intersection with Highway Thirty-Two, he turned west.

Just past the town of Fair Play, a Polk County sheriff’s car passed him heading east. The sun was just starting to set as he watched the sheriff’s car do a K-turn in the rearview mirror. It accelerated to catch up, slowed, and followed the white Focus.

Diminski kept his speed steady at fifty-five miles an hour and took a deep breath. He had hoped to complete this part of his plan without incident, but if the deputy stopped him, it would be over. Resisting arrest or running was not an option at this point. Seconds ticked by as he continued to glance at the sheriff’s car in the rearview mirror. He could see the deputy speaking into his microphone, calling in the license plate number. Soon the flashing lights and siren would be turned on. JR kept his speed at fifty-five, glancing at the rearview mirror every five seconds.

A minute later, he saw a turn-off up ahead. Switching on the right blinker, he touched the brakes to slow the car. As he made the turn, he watched in the rear-view mirror. The sheriff’s car passed the turn-off and continue on west.

Not realizing he had been holding his breath, he blew it out and shook his head slowly. Apparently, Kozlov had switched the license plates at some point. The memory of doing the same thing at Lehigh Valley International eight months ago made him smile.

Returning to the highway, he continued west to the intersection of State Road 245 and turned left. A half-mile later, he turned left again onto a narrow asphalt road. Several miles later, he found the gravel lane he needed and turned right. Slowing, he navigated the loose gravel pathway that eventual degraded to a rutted dirt trail which meandered through the woods next to Stockton Lake. Once again, he had used Google Earth to find the location. Now he was here in person, it was suitable for his needs. There was a full moon and the trees still had leaves, but they were starting to turn toward the fiery reds, gold, and yellows of autumn. In a few weeks the leaves would have fallen, making this part of his task more dangerous. He slowly drove the last one hundred yards on the trail with the car’s headlights off. If anyone was watching on the other side of the lake, they wouldn’t remember seeing headlights where there shouldn’t be any. The full moon provided plenty of light for his next action. As soon as the car exited the canopy of trees, he was only thirty feet from the bluff.

JR turned the engine off and sat in the quiet. The only sound were waves from the lake slapping at the side of the bluff. There were a few lights across the lake, but they were stationary. After several minutes of sitting there, he opened the car door. Taking one of the black sheets, he carefully spread it out flat next to the bluff’s edge. He then placed the long tubes of sand adjacent to the sheet. JR struggled to lift the body of Kozlov out of the trunk. Once it was on the ground, he dragged the body over and placed it on top of the sheet. After the body was wrapped, he rolled the long sandbags next to it, one on each side. He then took one of the bike chains and wrapped it around the bundle, securing the bags to the legs of the body. He used the second chain to secure the bags to Kozlov’s shoulders.

Satisfied with his labor, he pushed the bundle closer to the bluff where the water was fifteen feet below the edge. Through his research, JR had discovered the water depth in this part of the lake was over fifty feet. Deep enough for his needs. Without hesitation, he shoved the bundle farther until body and sandbags toppled over the edge into the water below. Breathing hard from his effort, he stood and listened. The splash was relatively inaudible, considering the quiet night on the lake.

JR stood at the edge and watched the bundle slowly submerge as moonlight reflected off the surface of the lake. Thirty seconds after Kozlov disappeared, JR turned back to the white Ford and drove it back through the woods to the highway.

He drove east toward Bolivar and stopped at a convenience store at the intersection of Highway 13 and 32. Using Kozlov’s credit card, he filled the car with gas.

Two hours after the body had slipped below the surface of Stockton Lake, JR had the white Focus parked in a dry creek bed. After removing the license plates and placing them in the trunk of the Camry, he checked to make sure he had left nothing in the car and then closed the door. He ripped the remaining black sheet into strips and threw the unused parts into the trunk of the Focus and closed the lid. Opening the gas cap, he pushed the end of the long strip of fabric into the tank.

As soon as he felt the cloth outside grow moist with gas, he stopped pushing. The long wick soaked up more gas as JR stretched the cloth away from the car. He lit the end of the makeshift wick with the lighter and walked away. As flame raced along the long strip of fabric toward the Focus, JR got into his Camry, started the engine, and drove away from the dry creek bed. He heard a loud
whomph
as the Focus’s gas tank erupted in flame. As he drove the Camry onto the two-lane farm road running next to the dry creek bed, he saw flames engulf the Ford in his rearview mirror.