Chapter Ten
In the Belly of the Beast:
Outside the old central business district of a city not too distant from Washington D.C. there was a large late Nineteenth Century hotel. The actual name of the city or its precise location is irrelevant to the reader. It could have been northeast, north, or even south of the nation's capital. But the hotel itself, by the standards of its day, was on the cutting edge of architectural excellence. Even one hundred ten years later it was still the object of artistic and creative envy.
On one of the middle floors of this magical old structure were a handful of luxury suites that had been partially converted. Their owner could accomplish a multiplicity of tasks in his customized little world. There was a magnificent residential suite, close by was a lavishly accoutered suite specifically set up to entertain female guests, and last was a sumptuous dining area meeting room with its concomitant massive oaken table.
There were other lesser, smaller, even more specialized rooms. There was a secret business office. In this office the central authority conspired with selected cohorts, received obeisance from devoted followers, and meted out justice to those whose failures required retribution.
It was to this last room that Todd Bitterman was summoned. His employer, his overlord, Oscar Camulos, was displeased.
Bitterman was seated in a small antechamber adjoining the main room waiting for an audience.
Camulos, seated in a large leather upholstered swivel chair, sent a lieutenant, a trigger man, out to fetch the frightened and nervous flunky. Camulos stared down at the overlarge onyx ring he wore on his left pinkie He reflected on the days when he personally smashed jaws ands broke noses. Though older and more beefy these days, he was still a powerful man with big hands that could be balled into huge fists. He still sometimes preferred the 'personal touch' to the younger hired guns he employed.
He reflected not long ago in this very room he'd made a powerful point with a fist. A young man with his girl friend had failed to succeed on a specific job. The botched job was irrelevant, a minor thing, the punishment was what mattered.
After a few moments of desultory discussion he stealthily extracted a pair of brass knuckles from his desk and smashed the young girl in the nose. He flattened her nose against her face, blood spewed out all over the carpet. When her boyfriend rose to her defense he pounded him down with a dozen hammer-like blows. When it was over it was difficult to tell who'd left the most teeth and blood on the plush carpet, the girl or the boy friend.
Breaking up that beautiful girl's face had been the highlight of his day. Sure he had her nose fixed later, but everyone got the message. She was too pretty, and by the way she looked at him she'd found him too ugly. With one swift swipe of the hand he'd made them equals. For a while she was as ugly as he was; a valuable lesson for those he employed.
Camulos remembered the look of repugnance on the Slattery woman's face when she was sitting beside him in the car. He reached over and fiddled with a large marble paperweight on his desk. He picked it up; it had a nice heft. He bet it could do a lot of damage. He dropped it back his desk; yes, a lot of damage.
Bitterman entered the room and was proffered a chair. The trigger man stood behind.
"We have a problem, you and I." growled an irritated Oscar Camulos.
"I know. I know, and I'm on it." replied the visibly shaking Bitterman.
Camulos leaned forward, folding his hands in front of his face just under his chin, "You do know do you? Tell me what you know."
"The Slattery woman's back with her killer boyfriend, and we haven't been able to track him down."
Camulos gave Bitterman a cold blooded, predatory, stare, "Is that all?"
Todd Bitterman knew he'd failed to bring Susan Slattery into Oscar Camulos's orbit. This had been his first priority, and he's failed at it miserably. He knew the costs of failure, and he was terrified, "If McClellan hadn't resurfaced she'd be in your bedroom right now. But he showed up again. He screwed up all my plans."
Camulos twisted around slightly in his chair. He looked beyond Bitterman to the hired assassin behind the quaking man. The unspoken message he was sending the frightened businessman was clear, "I wanted her Bitterman. I wanted her as a legal counselor and I wanted her for personal reasons. What do you think we should do about this?"
"Give me another opportunity Mr. Camulos. We've already got the documentation we need to draw her in. She'd signed off on several things while she was first home from the hospital." Bitterman tried to lighten the conversation, "She was so moonstruck over the baby and me I was able to get her signature on quite a few things."
He saw his effort at deflecting his failure wasn't working, "I can get her Mr. Camulos. I'll get her for you, if you give me another chance."
Camulos leaned back in his chair. He lit a large expensive foreign manufactured cigar, "I'm disappointed, very disappointed."
He looked beyond Bitterman to the man behind him, "Tell me Myron. Do you think Mr. Bitterman here deserves another chance?"
From the back of the room Todd Bitterman heard the man pass sentence, "No, this guy's a piece of shit. Let me take him out, dump him in a fifty gallon drum, and blow several dozens holes in it."
Myron was a psychopath. He lived to kill people, that's why Camulos kept him around, "No I think we can afford to give our friend Todd here one more chance." He looked at Todd, "You still want another chance?"
"Oh yes sir."
"Good, but you understand your failure has complicated things. That means you'll have to do more to stay even."
"Anything Mr. Camulos. I'll do anything."
"That's my boy." said Camulos, "Here's what you need to do. First you must bring Susan Slattery to me. Not by force. I want her to come to me of her own free will."
Bitterman nodded his head vigorously. He knew better than to interrupt.
Acknowledging the nod, "Good, that done I want you and Myron here to personally find Mr. Shawn McClellan, and I want you." Oscar Camulos pointed directly at Todd Bitterman, "I want you to be the one who puts a bullet in his brain."
Bitterman thought he was going to wet his pants. He was no killer. He'd never ever fired a gun, "Mr. Camulos."
Camulos cut him off, "You aren't going to say anything to let me down now are you Todd?"
Bitterman backed off, "No sir."
"Very good. Then here's what you do. You and Myron will find McClellan and kill him. Leave his body out someplace. In an alley say, or in the park; someplace where people will find it. When I read about it in the newspapers, how this United Nations hero was found dead; then I'll know you did your part."
Bitterman was still scared, but he'd gotten a reprieve, "Yes sir. Bring you Susan Slattery, and kill Shawn McClellan. I'll do that. Yes sir."
Camulos got out of his big chair and walked around the big mahogany desk, "That's what I want to hear. Get the jib done Todd, and there will be something special in it for you. I promise."
Todd smiled and shook the outstretched hand of the psychotic Oscar Camulos.
"One last thing though Todd."
He turned around, "Sir?"
"You fail; Myron here will find you that fifty gallon barrel."
Todd looked askance at Myron, "Yes sir. I mean no sir. I won't fail. Consider it all done."
Camulos waved him off, "Now get out of here."
Of course Camulos had already made plans. Todd Bitterman had long ago outlived his usefulness. Once he finished his two jobs, that special reward would be a new pair of shoes, nice ones, custom made of concrete.
Across the River From the Capital:
Across the Potomac River from the nation's capital there sat an older man in a moderately comfortable chair preparing for the first of several meetings. A history buff, his code name was Sam Houston. He was one of the key figures in charge of operations at CID headquarters. The first person on his list of contacts was his personal favorite, a protégé, and a man he'd grown to love and respect, Shawn McClellan. The message he had for McClellan was important, though Shawn wouldn't appreciate it.
Warrant Officer Sam Houston switched on his intercom, "Alice I need to see Mr. McClellan now."
Outside the warrant officer's private room his secretary pointed to McClellan and pointed to the door. Shawn knew it was time.
Shawn walked in, the warrant officer pointed to a chair, and he sat down.
"Did you enjoy our dinner the other evening?"
Shawn answered, "Yes sir, very much."
"You understand I meant it when I said you're out of CID."
"Yes sir I understood, but I still don't know why." Shawn wanted to stay in the service. He believed he still had a lot to contribute.
The warrant officer wasn't holding a termination interview. This was something different, more important, "You're not being retired or cashiered. You're simply being reassigned to another government agency; an agency where there will be a lot less danger but a lot more paperwork."
"I like it here sir, said Shawn.
"I'm glad you do. I'd be disappointed if you didn't, but it's my call not yours. Do you understand?"
"Yes sir."
"Now Shawn here's what I want, I need, you to do." Warrant Officer Houston started to digress, "You're to go to New York to the United Nations. You have a lot of testifying to do. There are people there who'll be glad to see you. I want you to renew those acquaintances. I want you to get back into your world health activities.
Socialize, get out; be seen. I want you to have a much higher profile. But I don't want you to go off on any expeditions. Stay in New York. I'll see to it you have lots of money. When the time comes I'll contact you."
"Yes sir. Would it be possible if I had a few days off before I went north?"
The Warrant Officer pierced him with a sharp stare, "There's another thing. The woman Susan Slattery; beautiful girl, smart. She's in a lot of trouble, doesn't know it yet, but she could go to jail. I know how you feel. Believe me I want what's best for you and for her. Her situation is a tough one, but I want you to trust me. If you must see her, and I believe you will regardless of anything I say, be discreet, keep it short. Can I trust you on this?"
"Sam you know I'm head over heels in love with her. She has my baby. I've put my neck out for her twice before. She's my life."
"Listen to me Shawn. I know how you feel. I know most everything there is to know about the two of you. I'm not trying to hurt you. Neither am I going to leave her out to dry. But I am telling you there's nothing you can do that will help. You try to help her it'll only make things more complicated."
He stood up and walked over to where Shawn was sitting, "Shawn I know I can trust you. But do you trust me?"
"I trust you."
