John Gilstrap - Damage Control

“Eric, what is he talking about?”

A fine line separates self-righteous anger from all-out panic, and Dom could tell that Eric was toeing the line. If this was going to get violent, now would be the time.

Tammy rose from her seat and walked to her husband. “Eric, is Billy in danger?”

Georgen looked like a trapped animal, his eyes wild and red as they darted from one corner of the room to another, either looking for an answer or a weapon.

Dom rose to join them. “You can get in front of this,” he said. “If you go to the police before the police come to you, I think the Wagners will feel a sense of justice. Confession goes a long way toward counteracting betrayal.”

“Eric, tell me.” Tammy said. “Look at me and tell me.”

Georgen pushed her gently away and started to pace, nervously adjusting the belt on his robe. “I just want you to know that I told Reverend Jackie that this was a bad idea. I thought it was desperate. She countered that these are desperate times. And Abrams guaranteed that the missionaries would be safe.”

Tammy reflexively reached out for Dom’s arm. He covered her grasp with his other hand.

“What went wrong?” he asked Dom.

“First tell Tammy,” Dom said. “You owe her that much.” He walked her to the sofa and sat her next to her husband.

Eric started with a huge breath. “This man named Abrams approached us with a plan.”

“Approached whom?” Dom interrupted. He needed specifics.

“Reverend Mitchell, I think. I showed up for a board of directors meeting and he was there. Toward the end of the meeting, she asked all but the executive committee to leave the room, and then Abrams made his pitch. We were to allow the missionaries to be taken captive, and when the ransom demand came in, we were to walk through a series of very specific steps to arrange for a particular person to rescue them.”

“Oh, my God,” Tammy gasped.

“It sounds worse that it was,” Georgen said. “Honey, you know how strapped the church has been for cash since… well, since the incident. This man-this Abrams-gave us the money for the ransom, with more to spare-millions of dollars-to keep us afloat.”

“You’re talking about endangering children,” Tammy said. Dom sensed that if he hadn’t been sitting on the other side of her, she’d have pulled away from Georgen.

“No,” Georgen insisted. “We’re talking about the charade of kidnapping. We were told that no one would get hurt.”

“Think of how terrifying that would have been,” Tammy said. Giving in to the urge to separate from him, she stood.

“It would be an adventure,” Georgen countered. “They’d be held for a couple of days, and then they’d be let go. No one was going to get hurt.” He pointed to Dom. “I don’t know what you’re talking about when you say they’re dead. I haven’t heard that.”

“There has to be an easier way to raise money,” Dom said, parrying the question.

Georgen rose to his feet, and Dom followed him. He wasn’t going to give him a height advantage. “It’s not like we dreamed this up out of the blue,” he insisted. “Abrams came to us with this. And with the details he knew, I actually thought that he was working for the government.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Tammy shouted. “Why would the government want to kidnap missionaries?”

“It wasn’t about the missionaries!” Georgen said. “It was never about them. That’s why we ultimately agreed. This was about arresting some enemies of the state or some such thing. They didn’t go into a lot of detail, but it was all an elaborate trap for the rescuers.”

He reached out for Tammy and grasped her shoulders. “Honey, you have to believe that we were told that there was zero chance that anybody would get hurt.”

“They’re dead, Eric! Didn’t you hear Father?”

Georgen shot a panicked look to Dom. “What happened?”

“Either someone lied, or communications broke down.”

“But why haven’t we heard?”

“The same reason why none of the families even know that their loved ones were taken captive,” Dom said. He felt his poker face slipping away. “Because this whole thing was designed to thrust all of the danger onto the innocents.”

“Jesus, Father, do you believe for a moment that I would deliberately endanger children and church volunteers?”

“I believe that you’re a coward,” Dom said. “And I believe that you had enough shadow of doubt that you pulled your own son off of the trip while you allowed other people’s sons and daughters to be slaughtered.”

“How dare you speak to me that way?” Georgen boomed.

Tammy was the first to hear the bullshit bell ringing in the back of her brain. “Why are you here, Father?”

“Are you even a priest at all?” Georgen asked. He took a threatening step forward.

Dom stopped him by pointing a finger at a spot above the other man’s nose. If it had been a gun, it would have been a sure kill shot. “Is that really where you want to draw the line for moral indignation?” Dom asked. “Enjoy your eternity in Hell.”

As he walked back thorough the foyer and out into the night, he heard the Georgens going at it. This would be the fight of fights. And boy, was there a surprise coming their way in a few minutes.

He’d just turned the corner at the end of the walk when he saw Agent Boersky and his driver striding toward him. “Your assistant called from Virginia,” he said. “She told us that you got everything.”

Dom pulled the recorder from his pocket and handed it over. “She’s nobody’s assistant,” he said, “and you’d do well not to be caught calling her that.”

“Give me a heads-up on what I’m going to hear on this,” Boersky said.

“He confessed to arranging the payoff, and he confessed to the fraud.”

“What about the government connection?”

Dom shook his head. “Nothing solid. He alluded to it, but I don’t think he knows those details.”

“But we got enough to give us cause to dig deeper?”

“That’s your call, not mine,” Dom said. “Right now, I just want to go and take a long shower.”

“Thank you, Father,” Boersky said.

“Let’s not do this again anytime soon,” Dom replied. “Do I have a ride back to the airport over there?” He pointed in the direction of Boersky’s vehicle.

“Yes, sir. Just wander that way. Agent Palmer is looking for you.”

Dom tossed off a little wave. Under the circumstances, he wasn’t sure if there was a right thing to say.

“Um, Father?” Boersky’s demeanor had darkened. “You need to give my boss a call. I believe you call her Wolverine?”

Dom’s insides tumbled. “Tonight?”

“She said right away.”

With an ever-growing sense of dread, Dom pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed the number from memory. He was about to hit Send when the phone buzzed in his hand. The caller ID showed that it Venice calling from the office.

He answered, “Hello?”

“Oh, Dom,” she said. She sounded near tears. “I don’t know what Digger is going to do.”

“What happened?” He asked the question even though he knew the answer.

“I just got a hit on ICIS. The Phoenix police found a woman’s body an hour ago in a Dumpster behind a bar. Evidence shows that she’d been shot several times. No identification, but the general description matches Gail.”

Dom stopped walking and sat on the curb.

Venice continued, “The body had been wrapped in plastic bags, but a homeless woman looking through the Dumpster for food found it and called it in.” Venice snuffled. “Oh, my God, Dom, it’s just so horrible.”

Dom closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was beyond horrible, beyond it on a scale that he didn’t know how to measure.