Rise of The Iron Eagle (The Iron Eagle Series Book 1) (27 page)

There was a small red dot blinking on Walter’s cell phone. It was the signal from a small transponder he had placed with the roses when they were being prepared to be sent to Sara. It just happened that Walter owned the flower shop that the roses came from. He had stopped in and done the arrangement himself. When he was putting it together, he included a small packet that looked like rose food but actually contained a transponder and a powder, which was a powerful antistatic that was odorless and tasteless and turned to a gas when added to water. It would knock out anything within three feet. He would know when the packet had been opened as the red light would stop blinking. He sat patiently in the afternoon sun listening to his music and watching the blinking dot on his phone. What he didn’t know was that one of Sara’s neighbors, Sally, a widow who spent her days knitting near her front window, was watching him watching Sara. Nearly forty-five minutes passed before the red dot on Walter’s phone stopped blinking. He started his car and slowly pulled out and drove down the street. He drove on toward the corner and turned left out of sight.

There was a loud crash as Sara fell, holding the vase of roses after she had put the powder into the water. She collapsed onto her kitchen floor, losing consciousness.

Chapter Twenty-Three

“Well I don’t know about you, Steve,
but I have enough of John’s lip prints
on my ass that if he were wearing
lipstick I could paint a toilet seat.”

J
ohn opened his laptop as they approached the first in a series of crime scenes in the basin. He took out a small item and plugged it into the USB port on his laptop. “What the fuck is that?” asked Jim, who was wearing a pair of white latex gloves and examining the severed forearm of the Black victim. “It’s an IR camera. It will allow me to photograph each piece of the crime scene and send it to the lab to process while we’re here. “Are you telling me that this is real time detective work?” He nodded while running the unit over the severed limb Jim was looking at. “Hey, cyber boy? If you need a clue, I can tell you that is just one of about a dozen pieces.” John finished the scan and hit send and followed the two men from location to location. “What kind of twisted fuck would do this?” Jim said as he poked at the severed head, the final piece of the victim which was prominently displayed over a DVD case and an all too familiar manila envelope.

They were still processing the scene when Jim called the men over. “Take a look.” John and Steve looked down at the envelope with Steve’s name prominently written in what could only be assumed as the victim’s blood. He looked over at John and Jim and said, “We won’t have to worry about the Basin River Killer anymore.” Jim couldn’t help himself, “Well, I wonder what sick ass shit The Eagle found on this guy.” John didn’t say a word. Steve looked over at him and asked, “Well? You were working on your profile of The Eagle. Did you see this in your observations.” John shook his head. “It all depends on what we’re dealing with here. Based on my observations of the body parts, they all appear to be from the same victim. If that holds true, it’s a dramatic shift in The Eagle’s killing.” Jim piped up, “Unless that envelope and DVD contain a confession and the identity of the Basin River Killer.” “Oh, bullshit, Jim. This fucker only did the DVD thing in the Roskowski case. What are the odds he would do it again?” “Well,” John chimed in, “I haven’t seen the file on Mr. Roskowski. Perhaps the killer is trying to communicate with you in a new way.” Steve looked at John and said, “What the fuck do you know about The Eagle? You’ve been an FBI profiler for less than twelve hours. You don’t know shit about this killer.” He nodded and started typing on his laptop again. Jim looked over and told John just to type the notes. “You are brand new to this killer; you know very little about him. Steve and I have been on almost every one of his crime scenes together, and I’ve been on them all.”

John stopped typing. “You’ve been on all The Eagle’s crime scenes?” “Yes, sir. I was there when they found the first victim he killed at Pendleton. I was there when he got his nickname.” “I had no idea, detective. So, you really have been searching for him for a long time.” “I thought we covered this. Now let’s get this evidence back to the lab. Steve, I think your team should process the scene.” He nodded in agreement. John started to walk over to one of Steve’s team members. “John, where are you going?” “To work on processing the scene. I’m part of your team, right?” “Shit, John, you’re consulting. I want you back at the office with me, so we can all look over what The Eagle has left us this time and see who it is he has killed and why.” He closed his laptop and tucked it under his arm. “You’re the boss; whatever you say.” The two men looked at him with condescension. “You’re the boss? Jesus, man, I’m trying to work with you and teach you how to catch a serial killer. You have no idea how valuable this education is.” “With all due respect, sir, you’re wrong. You have no idea how grateful I am to be here working with the two of you, learning the ins and outs of great forensic work as well as psychological profiling. You’re really helping me to better understand how the FBI and the Sheriff’s Department profile and categorize serial killers. This is invaluable information. This is the type of education that gives me a whole new insight into how this work is done. I’m very, very appreciative.” Steve and Jim started for their cars. Jim looked over at Steve as they left the scene with the envelope and DVD from The Eagle and said, “Well I don’t know about you, Steve, but I have enough of John’s lip prints on my ass that if he were wearing lipstick I could paint a toilet seat.” The three of them laughed as they headed for Steve’s office and the FBI crime lab.

It was half past five when John read Sara’s text about the confusion over the roses. He sent a text back to her letting her know that he would have to get back with her; he was going to be working late.

Chapter Twenty-Four

‘He was out of sight when she
mumbled to herself to play along.
“It’s the only way you’re going
to come out of this alive,”’

W
hen Sara started coming to, the room was cold, very cold, and dark. She had no idea where she was or what had happened. She had a terrible headache and felt cold steel and wood against her back. And she was nude. She called out but there was no response. She tried to move her arms and legs, but they were heavy and felt restrained. “Hello…is anyone there? Please. I need help. I’m hurt, and I’m cold. Is anyone there?”

Walter was sitting in his bedroom security room looking at her on his closed circuit television. The infrared camera allowed him to see her even through the darkness. “What a body,” he murmured to himself. “She’s going to be a lot of fun. But she’s not like my usual dates; she’s hardnosed and independent. I’ve only had a few of those, and it didn’t end well for them.” He pushed a button on the remote, and the lights came on. He could see her nude body quite clearly now. “Oh, how exciting…I’m going to make myself feel so good using every inch of that body! I will have to be patient with her. Strong willed women are much harder to break. I will have to take her by force the first few times, but she’ll come around. I just know she will.” He zoomed in on her face with the camera and could see the fear and confusion in her eyes. “Yes…patient…I must be patient. I just know that she’s the one for me.”

Steve had ordered his team to meet him in the lab. When the three men arrived, they went in an entrance that neither Jim nor John knew existed. There were no security guards or scanners, just a fingerprint thumb scanner beside the locked door. John looked closely at the mechanism, observing how Steve used it and what thumb he used. He asked Steve, “Hey, when do I get access like this?” Steve didn’t look at him, he just said, “When you’re all grown up!” It was meant as a joke, but John didn’t take it that way. The only thing on the other side of the door was an elevator. He surveyed the room and expressed his surprise about the low tech security. Steve pressed the button, and the elevator doors opened. When they reached the lab, all of his agents were working on different projects. He called them together and placed the DVD on a table. The container was emblazoned with the mark of The Eagle on the front and a thumbprint on the back.

“Okay, folks, The Eagle has upgraded his technology and his way of communicating with us. I would venture a guess that the print belongs to our victim.” Jim sarcastically chimed in by saying that maybe the print belonged to The Eagle and perhaps he was giving himself up. Steve ignored the remark and handed the DVD to one of his assistants. He walked over to the light table. The envelope was really thick but flexible, so he could tell it contained paper. He opened the envelope, pulled out the contents, and the projected images appeared on the screen. John watched all of this with a skeptical and relaxed look on his face. The first page document was titled ‘This is the story of the Basin River Killer, otherwise known as Francis Statler.’

“What the fuck?... The Eagle has gone from serial killer to biographer?” Jim said with a laugh. There were a few chuckles which stopped when Steve turned the page. It was a table of contents and a “cast of characters.” They all knew what that meant.

Chapter One: The Story of Francis Statler

Chapter Two: The Inspiration to Kill

Chapter Three Catch Me if You Can

Chapter Four: Running Under the Radar A Guide to Killing and Hiding in Plain Site

Chapter Five: The Confession

“A how-to guide,” Jim cried out. “This is fucked up. I mean really fucked up.” Steve looked at John and asked him his thoughts. He looked at the TOC and said, “This was probably being written by the victim at the time he was found by The Eagle. Until we look into it deeper, it’s hard for me to say just what this is, but what I can tell you based on what we have already seen, this is going to become a profiling guide on serial killers in the future.” Everyone in the room laughed except Jim and Steve. “You glean this from the first two pages of what looks to be a lengthy document? What if it’s some kind of fucked up psycho manifesto?” John crossed his huge arms and looked thoughtfully at the documents on the screen. “I don’t think so. I think this guy had been writing this ‘book’ for some time, probably years, but there’s only one way to find out.” Steve nodded, and they spent nearly three hours reading over what turned out to be the lucid, logical, and very, very disturbing manifesto of the Basin River Killer.

It was handwritten, uniform, clearly documented with dates, places, victim names, and the manner in which he killed them. It also mentioned how the killings made him feel. The cast of characters contained the names of the victims in chronological order with the dates of abduction and dates of death. Mark Summers, the quietest member of Steve’s team, suddenly blurted out, “This list reads like the credits at the end of a movie!” Summers was a forensic expert and worked for the most part with reconstructing victim’s faces when only a skull had been located in Jane and John Doe situations. He didn’t say anything more. The victim count was staggering with the first abduction of two men occurring in December 1969. The final entry told of the two homeless men found in the basin in the past couple of weeks. In all, there were one hundred and thirty-five names. All ages, races, and genders. The only common trait among the victims was that they were all heavy set.

When they got to the confession, the writing changed tremendously. The hand was shakier, and the penmanship less clear; however, the document was easy to read, coherent, and lucid. The final chapter answered John’s statement about the document becoming a text book on serial killers. And its closing chapter solidified it for everyone in the room:

In the beginning, I killed for the sheer joy of killing. I became better and better at it. As I matured in my actions, I realized that I was doing a service to society by ridding the world of the Swine that infest our streets and alleys, the filth that pollutes our river and its basin. I only regret that I wont be able to finish what I started. Perhaps the reader of this document will pick up where I left off, learn from the way I did things, and keep working to cleanse the Swine from our river and clean up our great city. I dont know how but The Iron Eagle found me, and he says that I must experience everything that the Swine felt at my hand. The Iron Eagle calls himself justice. I am the Swine; he has told me so. He told me that I killed human beings with families and friends, that they had their lives ahead of them, and that I decided to play God. As for the lives he claims I took from them, they were stealing the life from the river and contaminating it with their filth. They deserved to die, and I would do it again. One piece of advice: keep your mind, soul, and sexual desires in check. In the beginning of my cleansing of the Swine, I almost fell victim to the desires of the flesh. It happened only once, and I never acted upon it. Keep yourself clean and separated from the Swine, for once you contaminate yourself, you will be ineffective and unable to do the work of keeping our river clean.

Francis Statler, aka, The Basin River Killer.

The room was completely silent. While the detail conveyed was gruesome, Jim commented on how well the killer expressed himself even knowing that he faced certain death at the hands of The Eagle. Steve chimed in on that point, “He was calm because there was a huge part of him that felt he was indestructible. He had a God complex coupled with a psychopathic personality disorder, which allowed him to exhibit great restraint within society and controllable rage. That’s what made him the perfect serial killer and kept him under the radar for over four decades. These killings were performed in a desolate location by Statler, and we have to find that location.” Jim and John nodded and Jim said, “Well, its half past nine, people, and we haven’t gotten to the evening movie. I’m sorry, but I didn’t bring sandwiches and coffee this time. But we might all be glad for that.”

Steve motioned for the lights to be turned off and the DVD to be played. The setting was different as was the manner in which Statler was killed. The one constant in the video was the conversation. The Eagle’s voice, cold, calculating, and disguised. He conversed with Statler as he methodically tortured him. The wood carving of The Eagle with its crimson eyes was always prevalent in the background as The Eagle meted out Statler’s punishment, even as he amputated him piece by piece. The large gloved hands were the only discernible image of The Eagle.

As the film came to an end, The Eagle held Statler’s severed and bloody head in front of the camera, and the eyes moved momentarily. There was a distinct cringe of pain as the gloved hand of The Eagle pressed into Statler’s still bleeding spinal cord. His eyes became fixed and his pupils dilated as The Iron Eagle flung the head across the room and into a wall, and the screen faded to black. When the film ended, there was no vomiting or craziness. Steve said sadly, “While Janet had a thing for the melodramatic, I wish she was still with us, even if it meant getting a laugh at her expense.” There were a few sad smiles, and John piped up and said, “I didn’t know Janet, but I think we can all take some comfort in the fact that her killer was found.” Heads around the room nodded in agreement.

“Okay,” Steve said, “It’s now eleven p.m. We have a confession. We have… a new reality version of chainsaw massacre. There is nothing more for us to do; it’s in the hands of the coroner. Let’s break for the night, and, unless something new pops up over the weekend, let’s take the weekend off. I think we could all use some time with family and friends and to get away from this, if only for a few hours.” There was stunned silence until Jim spoke up. “Wait…the diabolical FBI criminologist… the serial workaholic Special Agent Hoffman is recommending a few days off? Someone break out a video phone and record this because I’ve known this guy for nearly two decades, and I have never heard those words come out of his mouth.”

Steve turned to John and asked how the profile of The Eagle was coming along. “I did a baseline case study with the information I could glean from the case files. Today’s case makes it only the second actual hands-on visual case work on The Eagle’s killings. I can give you the profile, so you can read it over the weekend, but I can tell you that I’m going to be making some significant changes to it.” “Well, email me what you have so far, and we’ll talk over the weekend about the revelations that you have already brought up and the ones that were confirmed by the manifesto and the DVD.”

“Okay, let’s break for the night. I will see you all on Monday morning, bright and early.” Everyone packed up their things and walked back to their offices. John closed his laptop and went back to his office as well. Steve and Jim stopped John and said jointly, “You earned yourself a beer.” He laughed and said, “You know I don’t drink, but I’ll gladly join you gentleman for a beverage, just tell me where.” Jim gave him directions to Santiago’s and told him to meet them there in half an hour. He agreed and finished packing things up. He called Sara but got voicemail. “Hi Sara, as luck would have it, I just got notice that I have the weekend free. I have some business to wrap up, but I thought I could stop by when I’m finished. It will be early morning, but I know you have that comfortable guest room, so if it’s okay with you I would like to stop by and crash at your place. I know you monitor your answering machine, so if there’s a problem just give me a call back. If not, I will see you in a few hours.” He hung up and headed for Santigo’s.