Chapter 7

Richard G Dean was in his car on the way to a 5 star hotel in Miami when the news came over the radio. He had just finished signing about 200 copies of his self help book "The Inner You: A guide to discovering what it is you truly want," for his book tour, which was about to come to a grinding halt.

"...And news out of Terre Haute Indiana today, experts think that a terrorist attack is responsible for the explosion that rocked the small college town. It’s unknown whether this was a directed attack or the preparation for an attack gone wrong, but police and FBI are looking into it. The explosion occurred in a storage unit in the South part of town, and the unit in question was owned by one Raul Muyres- I hope I’m pronouncing that right. Neither the police nor the FBI are saying whether Mr... Muyres ... was involved with the bombing, but are investigating every angle."

Richard, aka Robert, slowed the car down on the Dolphin Expressway, and pulled over to the side once Raul’s name was mentioned.

The name brought back many memories, and emotions.

Robert never had real emotions. They said this was the mark of a Sociopath, but Robert had never felt himself in that category. Sociopaths were creatures with no conscience or morality, who manipulated everyone around them simply to get what they wanted. He was manipulative, this was true, but he’d discovered a long time ago that manipulating people to be the best version of themselves yielded far greater benefits than just a short term manipulation which led to their eventual destruction. That was the whole reason he wrote self help books.

But in one sense he was like a sociopath in that he never felt the kinds of emotions others felt, not beyond base instinctive feelings, like desire, anger, and fear. But he kept those under tight control because, without the other emotions to keep them in check, they could run rampant and make him a true sociopath whose only desire was to satisfy the demands of those emotions.

But the emotions that he denied were brought back to the fore upon hearing Raul’s name. Only he thought of them differently in regard to Raul. Love, sadness, and loss. He had no doubt that the explosion was fatal for his friend, otherwise the report would have said he was in custody, or that he was injured.

He shifted the car into gear, making up his mind on the spot, and causing several cars behind him to blare their horns in protest. He went to the hotel, gathered his things, and checked out early. The desk clerk reminded him that he had paid for the whole week in advance, and that they couldn’t refund the difference.

Robert didn’t care. It was only money.

Between waiting for his flight to board and the flight itself it was 4 hours and 45 minutes before he reached Indianapolis and the first hour and a half to reach Terre Haute in the rented car. Using the onboard GPS, he arrived directly at the site of the blast at about four o’clock, about 10 hours after... He had to abort that line of thought, otherwise he was sure the anger would take over, and that might cause him to act... imprudently. He drove up to the gate, which was still blocked by police cars, and got out of the car, looking for all the world, like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

However the first officer he reached had a combination of stupidity and stubbornness that was altogether too common in small town police, in Robert’s opinion.

"Whoa there chief, where do you think you’re going?" he said.

Typical. Robert had heard the line a thousand times in various contexts, and even in different languages. He gave the officer a look that said that he had barely noticed him, because he was in fact beneath notice.

"Special agent Regan Florida, Crime Scene Recovery Unit from Homeland Security. I’ve been sent to assess the bomb site and determine if anything points to domestic terrorism." He started to walk past.

"Nuh, uh Mr. Fancy title with no badge, and no ID. I was told by the the Lady FBI agent to not let anyone through except her and a very small group of others. An’ that don’t include any uppity Homeland Security types, unless they can conjure up proper ID. "

Robert decided to gamble a little. "Have you ever met a member of homeland security who wore a badge? Wouldn’t that kind of defeat the purpose?" He was banking on the cop to have never met a member of Homeland Security, ever.

Unfortunately...

"Actually my cousins husbands college roommate worked for the DHS, and he showed us his badge. Gold and blue with an eagle right up on there. It looked pretty slick." He eyed Robert warily.

Robert sighed, and grinned at the officer, looking defeated. "Okay, you got me." He reached carefully into his wallet and pulled out his press pass. He’d recently written an article for psychology magazine as Richard G Dean, and they had issued the the pass so he could interview a prominent psychologist who disagreed with some of the assertions in his most recent book.

He’d managed to argue his case so well that he’d been able to persuade the the doctor to agree with him in the end.

The pass made the officer roll his eyes, but Robert could see his skepticism fading away.

"Look, I’m a journalist," he explained, as the cop started shaking his head. Robert could see him congratulating himself on being right about him not being a DHS agent. He decided to play on the man’s ego a little more. "I’m doing a piece and I really need to know what happened here. Now, I’m not asking for any classified information, but come on. Are you really going to tell me the Feds know more about what’s going on in this town than Local PD? There’s got to be something a hard working cop like yourself can tell me."

The officer narrowed his eyes suspiciously at him for a moment, then glanced away, looking both prideful, and somehow a little embarrassed.

"Well... There was one thing. But you gotta promise to leave my name out when you write your piece."

Robert looked eager, and said, truthfully, "I haven’t even looked at your name tag."

"Okay," said the officer reluctantly, then looked at his shoes. "When the description of the vic came through, along with his DMV photo, I thought he looked familiar, but I couldn’t say why. Then it hit me; I’d seen him before! Like yesterday! Only I didn’t want to say anything because..." He hesitated. "You sure you’ll leave my name out of this?"

Robert crossed his heart, looking earnest and held his hand up. "My hand to God," he said.

The officer looked mollified, and took another deep breath before he blurted out, "Club Koyote. It’s a- well, it’s a gentleman’s club, out in West T. H. I um... saw him talking to one of the dancers out there."

Robert’s eyes went wide, as the realization hit."That’s why you don’t want your name on the story either. Riiiight."

The cop tapped his nose and winked conspiratorially. "It looked like a ’personal’ conversation, not a ’professional’ one, if you take my meaning, " he said, air quoting. "In fact I doubt he was there for the ladies, if ya know what I mean."

Robert raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, though he knew exactly what the cop meant. Raul would have looked more at the men than the women, and it would have been fairly obvious to someone trained to observe details, like a cop. He nodded at the cop and gave him a grateful smile. "Anything else I should know about this place?"

The officer looked a little shifty for a moment, as if he really didn’t want to have to answer the question. “Well, um…” He didn’t quite meet Robert’s eyes. “There has been a little…” He winked, “...undercover love known to happen there from time to time. For the right price of course.”

Prostitution. Of course. Another reason this perverted little mall cop didn’t want the FBI to know about it. But Robert widened his eyes, and made a silent “Ohhhhhh,” with his mouth, and winked back at the officer. “Y’know, I should really check this place out. Purely for ‘Professional’ reasons of course,” he said, air quoting.

The cop pointed, winked, and made a little click noise with the corner of his mouth, as Robert started heading back to his car.

“I appreciate all the help officer!” said Robert through his open window as he drove off, and set the GPS for Klub Koyote.

It was a dingy looking little hole-in-the-wall from the outside, but the cars in the lot ranged from rusted pickup trucks to high end SUVs, with all manner of car in between including a couple of motorcycles. He went in, paying the 15 dollar cover, and sat down at the bar barely noticing the girl on stage. He pulled out his phone, and brought up a picture of Raul, making sure he looked suitably sad and slightly forlorn. The bartender, a sweet looking girl, dressed in a tight tank top, who apparently didn’t believe in bras, asked him for his drink order. He ordered only a coke, and when she brought it back she took pity and asked if everything was alright.

Just like he knew she would.

He showed her the picture of Raul from his phone, it was a picture they had taken together in a hotel bar. Raul looked fairly happy and Robert looked straight faced, though somewhat happier than he normally did. It was their last night together, though they didn’t know it at the time. It was the closest Robert had ever come to true happiness.

However he told the bartender a story about his favorite uncle, and how he’d been missing for several days, and this was one of the last places he’d been known to be, or at least his phone had been. He’d checked in from there about 22 hours ago, and did she remember seeing him?

She bit her lip and thought about it for a moment, then remembered seeing this guy out in the parking lot with a bunch of other guys, well dressed men, and that one of them had been trying to talk to Pearl, one of the dancers. She pointed her out to him.

He thanked her, relief evident on his face, and she gave him a very sympathetic look, and he could tell she was feeling the warm glow that came with helping someone out.

He turned to go to Pearl and saw that she was talking to, from their leather outfits, what he took to be the owners of the motorcycles parked outside. He hesitated and for a moment considering his actions, but decided that there was no room for hesitation. He marched over.

She was sitting on the lap of one of the bikers, looking for all the world like she was having a good time, but Robert could see the nervous tension she held in her back muscles, like she was ready to flee. He put a delicate hand on her shoulder and she craned her neck around to look at him and he circled her to be at about a 45 degree angle to her, the optimal angle for a woman when she speaking to someone she doesn’t know or trust.

"I’m sorry to bother you miss," he said in a polite nervous tone. The two bikers looked at him in disbelief for a moment as if he had grown another head. He ignored them. "...but I was told you might know something about my uncle."

"Hey, asshole. You blind or somethin’?"

Robert turned to the biker looking slightly surprised to see them, and said, "I’m sorry sir I was jus-"

"Don’t you sir me you little panty waist, I work for a living." Robert filed that away for later, under Marine Sergeant, probably a drill instructor, though not for many years by the looks of him. The pale green orc was built like a Sherman Tank, round and slow but powerful when he hit. He wore leather head to toe, except for a sleeveless leather vest, with long hair which showed signs of helmets use, and a large red beard. "Now turn your little scrawny elf ass around and walk away before I make you leave the hard way.”

Robert appeared to look confused, to buy some time, and noted some details, which he put together into a coherent picture of the man. There was a line where a wedding ring should have been, and a tattoo on his arm with a male name and date, about 7 years ago, right below the one he had expected to see on his shoulder, the eagle, globe and anchor of the marine corps insignia.

He straightened his shoulders and stood up straighter, and showed himself to be more confident, making a show of noticing the Marine Tattoo for the first time.

"At ease, Sergeant," he said, and the biker blinked once and shook his head. "I’m not here to take the young lady away from you, I only need to speak with her for a moment. D’you have a family young man?" he asked slipping ever so slightly into a southern accent similar to the one the biker had used.

"Uh... yes, sir." Just by his tone and wording the biker had assumed that Robert was a higher rank than he was.

"And I know you would do anything to protect them, like any good marine who has ever uttered the sacred vow, Semper Fi. Always Faithful." The biker nodded mutely, and Robert nodded back. "Well Sergeant, this is a matter of family, and one I must resolve as quickly as possible. I’ll let this nice young lady return to you very soon, I promise, if you will allow me the courtesy of a few minutes of her time."

Both the bikers were looking at him mutely, and nodding their heads in a slight daze, as if they couldn’t quite work out what was going on.

Robert smiled thinly at them and gently took hold of the girl Pearl’s elbow and steered her toward the door of the club, and onto the street outside, slightly up the block toward the little parking lot.

"Don’t worry, we’ll be in sight of the bouncer at the door. I don’t intend to hurt you, I just need to ask you a couple quick questions, then I would recommend taking the rest of the night off, since you didn’t really want to be with them."

She gasped. "Was I really that obvious?"

He smiled at her to calm her nerves, and said, "Only to me."

Then suddenly there was a roar from inside, and the sound of a table being flipped and tossed into other tables.

"We don’t appear to have much time, so have you seen this man?" He held out the picture to her.

She tore her panicked eyes away from the door and tried to focus on the picture he was showing. "W-w-whhu-uh... Yes. Yeah I saw him last night, he was with..." she gasped. “Oh my god, he was with…”

Then at that moment the door crashed open, and the bikers appeared in it.

******************************

Miranda cut him Robert off at this point. "And that’s where I come in, which makes it MY TURN!" She bounced and giggled as Robert raised an eyebrow.

In his Richard G Dean voice he said, "My dear you need some professional help. But I will concede the floor to you, if that is your wish." His features seemed to slowly drift back toward the neutral expression always worn by Robert.

Miranda smirked, and looked at Davin. "So there I was in the strip club, showing off the girls..." she wiggled her ample breasts back and forth a little, and Davin’s eyes went wide, while Bernard and Gary both grinned and looked at each other. "When all of the sudden... Oh Hang on..." she smacked the heel of her hand into her forehead lightly, and playfully. "I forgot to tell you how I got here."