Robert Waggoner - John - The Senior Killer

At the east end of town, at just exactly four thirty Terry heard a knock on his motel door. He’d changed clothes to a tear off disguise in case he had to make a run for it. In a small ice chest he had a few cans of coke, beer and a bottle of vodka with some orange juice for his guest. In his pocket he had some knock out pill he planned to use of the unsuspecting bike lover.

However, when Terry opened the door there were two of them standing there and the gray hair older man said hello and introduced his son as a bike lover too. Terry took it in stride and asked them both in and sit down and have some refreshments. Terry quickly found another glass and made ready his knock out pills as both asked for a beer as it was a warm day even for the usual cool Anacortes location next to Puget Sound. Terry poured them a glass full and watched the foam rise from the pills. Next he took the glasses over and sat them on the small round table that had two photo albums of someone that resembled him but many years younger. Both the guys took a long swallow of beer and Terry smiled. In only a few minutes, he thought, they will be out cold for a while and the old one will never see the light of day or another bike in this lifetime, he thought.

Brad listened to Nancy tell him that she found two motels where someone had used a bike license plate for registration. One place had four bikes registered and the other motel, San Juan Motel on 6 ^ th St. Had only one guest registered with a bike. His name was Terry Adams from Everett and his ID and bike registration was checked twice by agents and apparently he checked out ok.

By now Brad was on full alert and told him to have some agents check out the four guys at the one motel and he was going to the San Juan Motel and to have some back-up meet him there. He looked at his watch and it was ten to five. On the way there after running for his car, he called Wendy and agent Jones inform them of his whereabouts and to be on the alert for anything suspicious in the ferry terminal.

Back at the motel Terry watched as the young man fell to the rug and when the old guy started to feel woozy, he held onto him and placed his spike next to the where the spine entered the head and shoved it in feeling it is going past the spinal column up into the brain making a sight sound of metal to the bone and then less force as it made its way into the soft brain. John the serial killer had struck once more as he took a few seconds to relish his satisfaction on a job well done. Then, he quickly left the motel once again leaving all the evidence behind. He’d taken a bouquet of tulips and put them in the dead man’s hands. He smiled at the thought of flowers on his dead victim as he headed to the ferry terminal on his bike. He drove the speed limit and looked at his watch. It was five fifteen and plenty of time to catch the ferry to Canada. He had his ticket and reservation number of a few weeks ago when he booked passage with a small cabin for privacy.

Racing into the parking lot of the San Juan Motel he hit the office at a run asking what room a Terry Adams was in. The flustered desk clerk looked at her book and told him it was room 121 at the end of the first floor. He asked for a passkey showing the clerk his federal ID and took the key lives on the run. There was no bike in sight as he fitted the key into the motel door and with guns drawn went in low and rolling to the left of the door seeing no movement anywhere. Lying on the floor were two men with one on his back by the small table with flowers in his hand and the other sprawled on the floor in a fetal position. Brad jumped up and checked the bathroom and found it empty as the backup team arrived. He pulled out his phone and called his team at the ferry terminal to alert them. The other two agents called into Nancy to put out an alert for all to be on the lookout for a bike rider on a Harley Davison. Agent Jones saw the bike rider cross onto the ferry. Due to it being a bike it was parked next to the railing at the other end of the ferry so off-loading could take place without accident. John moved slowly but efficiently and hurried upstairs to the porter who looked at his reservation and showed him his cabin. On the way up the stairs, making sure no one saw him; he ripped his cover disguise to match his new ID. His new look was of a middle aged balding man with a hearing aid glasses and clothes to match an old man. Stage players and movie actors, in addition to magicians used the relatively new disguise to quickly change clothes. John had stuffed his old disguise in a bag and when safely tucked into his cabin, he opened the porthole window and tossed the Marlin Spike into the Puget Sound along with his old disguise. The weight of the spike would sink the clothes in a matter of seconds. Only a fluke of someone seeing or hearing a splash would draw attention, but as the sump pumps spilled out bilge water, a small risk indeed. Standing in front of a small mirror he checked his appearance and made sure all was in place. He had no intention of venturing out of his cabin until someone knocked on his door to check his credentials. From out of his bag he took another wallet and a fanny pack. In the fanny pack he had a bona fide American passport complete with picture and a driver’s license that was current showing a Mr. Alex Windslow from Seattle who had left his car in the parking lot and walked on board. He was to go to Victoria Islands to see the flowers.

Back at the ferry slip agents Jones and Wendy along with Billy ran to the ferry. Billy lagged behind due to a shortness of breath from too many years of lungs full of brown nicotine. The two other FBI agents, each receiving a call and the news of a Harley bike rider ran to the front of the ferry and one stood guard while the other one ran upstairs to see a member of the staff who had seen someone matching the latest description of the fugitive.

Back at the ferry slip Brad showed the men manning the slip his I.D. and to cast off and let no one in or off. They had been briefed beforehand and one cool man spoke into his handheld radio to the captain to depart immediately on orders from the FBI. The ferry slowly pulled away from the ferry slip and made its way to Canada.

Brad’s heart was pounding and felt they had John trapped on board the ferry. He realized that a new disguise was being used, but somehow they must get some fingerprints from each passenger who even came close to fitting the elusive John the Senior Killer. But first he must go topside and calm the passengers before panic set in with the other agents probably frantically looking for John. Climbing the stairs two at a time he reached the main floor and walked calmly through the swinging doors. He found his team and two suited FBI agents in a pow wow with a half dozen staff and what looked like maybe a second officer in command.

Brad took command and quietly, but firmly told his people to calm down and let’s proceed with caution and above all be calm so as not to alarm the passengers any more than they already were. He told the second in command to produce a passenger list and then he would divide the passengers by last name for interviews by the agents.

An hour later each agent had a group interview and the interviews went quickly as anyone under the age of forty was eliminated, but only after careful scrutiny. By nine pm the list of passengers who fit the ‘John’ was down to about twenty older folks. Half of those were disposed and now it was down to about ten passengers who were men and single traveling to Canada. All but three were found in their cabins. Brad went with Wendy and when it came to interviewing an Alex Windslow, found them knocking on his cabin door. John had been around actors all his life it would seem. So he knew the common man off the street would be nervous when being interviewed by the FBI. He played the role like an Oscar nominee. In the front of his twisted mind fingerprints would give him away, so he had on a pair of very used gloves to pretend his hands were cold on a ferry out on the open water.