Richard Stephenson - Collapse

“Shame on you, Hal! Bad computer!”

“Gentlemen, my sincere apologies.”

“Jackson, to what do I owe the pleasure? Please have a seat. Can I get either of you a drink?”

“Howard, it’s two o’clock in the afternoon,” Captain Butler said, smiling.

“I have a glass of wine two hours after every meal.” Howard had repeated this routine like clockwork for over thirty years.

“No thank you. We’re fine.”

“Suit yourself.” The three men sat down. Howard sat in a very old and ugly recliner that starkly contrasted everything in the room. The two soldiers sat on the couch opposite him.

“Well, Howard, I have a few questions for you, if you don’t mind.”

“Go right ahead.”

“I’m sure Hal has kept you up to speed regarding all of the movement outside your front gate.”

“Yes, he has.”

“I wanted to fill you in on exactly what’s going to happen.”

“I’m all ears.”

“By the end of the week three regiments will be under my command. Once we’re battle ready, we are going to take back Denver from the rebels.”

“I can’t wait. Should be exciting.”

“I was wondering, exactly how big is your estate?”

“A thousand acres.”

“Would you be so kind as to show me a map of your property?”

“Of course. Hal?”

The Enterprise and her torn nacelle vanished from the screen and a holographic map of Beck Estates took its place. The main residence could be seen along with the guest house, private airstrip, golf course, garage, and stables.

“Holy smokes! You own all of that? We’ve barely seen a fraction of it. I must say, Howard, I can’t picture you on a horse.” Captain Butler looked at First Sergeant Bankhead and they exchanged chuckles.

“Well Captain, you are most definitely right. I’m not an animal person by any stretch of the imagination. The stable belongs to my wife.”

“Wife? I had no idea you were married, Howard! Will we get a chance to meet Mrs. Beck?”

“Regretfully, no. She is away tending to something important.”

“Shame. I would like to meet her. Who on earth takes care of your horses?”

“Hal.”

“Of course. I should have known. I take it he also takes care of that grumpy cat over there?”

“Yes. I can’t stand that animal. My wife’s cat, Nala, is more Hal’s pet than mine.

“She is a good kitty, sir.” Hal’s reply elicited laughter from all three men.

“OK, back to the matter at hand. The reason I’m asking about your property is that I have a request.”

“And what would that be, exactly?” Howard’s demeanor changed immediately.

“Well, I would like to move my forces into the compo…”

“Absolutely not. Your soldiers are just fine where they are.”

“Howard, please let me finish. There have been security concerns addressed at the command level. I gave them the impression that we were already inside the compound. I wanted to respect your privacy and keep the promise I made to you when I arrived. I’ve been able to keep my bosses in the dark until today. Once they knew the bulk of my forces were outside the front gate they were not happy.”

“Well, your bosses are not going to be happy at all. When Lieutenant Christopher is on his feet, I want all of you out. You’re welcome to stay outside the front gate and the standing dinner invitation to the both of you will remain the same.”

“Howard, I have bad news. I had hoped that by asking you personally we could come to an understanding and everyone would be happy. I have my orders. Please reconsider and let’s not make this any harder than it needs to…”

“No! You need to understand one thing, Captain! This is MY house, and I decide what goes on inside these walls! When I speak with the president you will understand exactly who in the hell you are dealing with!”

“Mr. Beck, I’m sorry that it has come to this. The order comes directly from the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff with the approval of the president himself.”

“The hell it does! You are looking at the man who put Malcolm Powers in office, and you’re either lying to me or you’re being lied to!” Howard’s face flushed scarlet in his fury, his eyes full of rage. He jumped out of his chair and kicked over a table. Papers and some of the rarest first edition books on the planet went flying across the room. “Get the hell out of my house! NOW!”

“Howard Beck, by order of the president of the United States, I hereby seize your property, and you will be confined to your suite under armed guard.”

“I’d like to see you try, you stupid grunt! Old Man! Lock down the estate, deny everyone but me access to your systems and deploy security measures immed…”

Captain Butler drew his sidearm, leveled it at Howard’s head and pulled the trigger.

Former Master Chief Petty Officer Richard Dupree was lying in his bunk in his private cell in the basement of the Winchester County Courthouse. He was thinking about the pedophile he had murdered. He didn’t want to think about the monster but couldn’t get the image of the man’s face out of his head. The State of California knew that Richard had been highly trained in escape and evasion tactics and didn’t want to run the risk of him getting loose. They were right to be wary; Richard had no intention of attending his trial. A guard had been stationed in front of his cell twenty-four hours a day for the previous six months. At first it was just a guard getting paid overtime for sitting there in a folding chair with a clipboard. Within a month, a desk was moved in along with a comfortable office chair, a telephone, and a computer with limited Internet access.

The duty post had even been added to the weekly roster, thanks to a non-critical post being shuffled so a guard could keep watch over Richard. Every guard that worked at the Winchester County Sheriff’s Office was dying to spend a week with Richard. They all considered him to be a hardcore badass and a hero for murdering the disgusting abomination that was rotting in hell.

The former SEAL wondered why they didn’t just move him to a state facility that was far more secure than the rundown shithole in which he was currently housed. He spent a great deal of his overwhelming amount of free time thinking about this mystery. Richard finally figured out that the California Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation knew that he would be their problem soon enough and saw no rush to roll out the red carpet for Mr. Dupree. Richard was, in fact, correct and hoped his captors wouldn’t realize their mistake until it was too late and he was safely in Canada under an assumed identity he’d created for himself shortly after he became an operator. He loved his country and was a dedicated soldier, but he was not naïve enough to believe that his country wouldn’t disavow him should he be caught in a compromising situation that would cause an international incident.

His trial date kept getting pushed back further and further, thanks to his lawyer. He couldn’t give a rat’s ass what his lawyer did as long as he remained right where he was, and his best chance of escape was within reach. The only thing Richard was the least bit interested in hearing about was information about the monster he had killed. Who was Oswald Jefferson? How many other children had he abused? Are the children okay? Richard didn’t need any further justification for killing a pedophile, or killing anyone for that matter; killing the filth of humanity was how he had earned his living. He was simply concerned for the victims, especially his own children.

Oswald Jefferson had been a highly respected deacon at the Winchester Street Baptist Church. His father had helped found the church. His mother brought an infant Oswald to the very room in which he was murdered. He grew up in the church, was married there, and even watched his two children being baptized there many years ago. Detectives estimated that Oswald began acting on his perversion in his late twenties. By his mid-thirties, children would play naked in front of him while he pleasured himself, an art he was proud of until the day Richard did the world a favor and ended his life. No one had suspected him at all. He always ensured that the children he watched were under the age of three, far too young to understand shame and not possessing the vocabulary to explain to their parents what had been going on. From time to time children did try to explain and were unsuccessful in properly conveying what “special worship” meant. The ones who did garner some understanding left their parents confused. They would reluctantly approach Oswald and ask him about it, not wanting to offend him. He would place his hand on their shoulder, calm their nervousness with a smile and make up some excuse about a diaper changing gone awry that resulted in a giggling child running about the room. Oswald then simply excluded the children who told their parents about his “special worship” to throw off any suspicion.