KILLER SPERM: A Serial: TWENTY-EIGHT

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Tom Bubb may have found a new girlfriend and a murderer all in one.
The organization is very skeptical about Bill Richardson's death and plans are made.
Fiona and Michael prep the friends of Bob Langley and David Groggins to take extreme care for their safety until the beast is slain.

Chapter 28 (v.1) - SENSE OF AN ENDING

Submitted: October 29, 2016

Reads: 224

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Submitted: October 29, 2016

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KILLER SPERM

A Serial

Nicholas Cochran

Chapter Twenty-Eight

 

Electra took a sip of her coffee, a small bite of a triple-chocolate muffin,inhaled through her nose, and began.

Ten minutes later Tom Bubb knew he was interested in this woman in more ways than the obvious ones concerning her spectacular charms. He began to feel as though she was a true soul mate. In essence, Electra had articulated most of the reasons that he had given for becoming a nurse. (At least as far as Electra was concerned) 

In a sentence, they had both seen a horizon stretching before them with all the flashpoints and transitions of life clearly marked, including the place of their death as well as who would attend their funeral. 

Tom had talked for hours with his parents and friends on this topic and suddenly, here, with this glamorous woman, he found someone who not only agreed with him but also experienced similar emotions.

When Electra stopped talking and sat back in her chair, he tapped his fingers on the table in a nervous manner while he absorbed everything he had heard—and thought—about this peculiar relationship they were developing, a relationship where one party believed the other to be a murderer. 

He looked at his watch and truthfully stated that he had to leave; and that they were probably cursing him for not being there to lift the latest four hundred-pound patient onto one of the supersized new beds, manufactured with the changing weight demographics in mind.

“Ellie,” shaking his head, and smiling, “I have really enjoyed talking with you; let’s do it again. Are you going back up there now?”

It was only ten-thirty and Bill had been smuggled away to a similar room in the Pulmonary ICU, where he was undoubtedly waiting for news about Tom’s coffee date.

“Well actually Jack, I have to split as well. Someone I have to pick up and all that; family, you know; but I’ll definitely be back tomorrow. Let’s have lunch together. Is that okay? Can you choose your own time; and how long?”

“Sure can, Ellie. Just call the floor—or come up. Then we can enjoy some prime soup, okay?”

 Electra Wales pushed herself onto the tips of her toes, leaned forward, and gave Tom Bubb a kiss of promise on the cheek. They looked into each other’s eyes and wondered what all this might mean, and what might happen next.

“Bye, Jack. Loved the chat and the muffin. See you tomorrow."

She turned and walked swiftly to the side door of the best hospital cafeteria she had ever graced and set out for her car, a black BMW i 8.

* * *

“Yes, she did go over there. I confirmed it with one of our men in the cafeteria. She was there for almost an hour.”

The brushed steel amplifier crackled and groaned.

Jesus, do you really have to leave that damn thing on when we’re talking?

"We’ve been more than friends for decades, for Christ’s sake.

"And, there’s nobody here. And, I’m in the secure room; the one you blueprinted, helped build, and completely styled.

"The sound on this end is terrible; worse than fingernails on a blackboard.”

He made sure to puff a puff of exasperation.

“I prefer to leave it this way. Of course, my incoming is perfect. I’m sorry about your end, Riddick, but I prefer to leave it on all the time. You never know.”

Yeah yeah, I know: One can never be too careful, and all it takes is once.” He puffed again.

“Oh, grow up Riddick. You can be a real pain, you know.”

Riddick Malcolm said nothing.

“What else are we doing to make sure this snoop is dead.?”

“What else? Jesus; they cleared him out on a slab the night before Electra—Ellie—got there. And the room’s empty; what else do you need?

"Christ, the Head Nurse, the other nurses, the ICU staff, as well as the record keepers, say the guy’s a stiff.”

The amplifier continued to crackle. A few moments passed.

“Is there an obituary?”
 

“Obituary? Jesus Christ, the guy just croaked less than forty-eight hours ago. And why would any paper carry an obituary of a shamus for Christ’s sake.” Malcolm laughed.

“I want to see an obituary, a funeral home, and a funeral. Even those people have loved ones. I think you should start looking today, and if nothing is published in three days, I want a full-court press on that hospital and any other place where they might hide that bastard.”

Riddick Malcolm quickly saw the reasoning behind both the request and the order.

“Good thinking . . .again. Well, I’ll make some calls right away and see if he has a tracking number.” He laughed a gaspy, unfiltered Chesterfield wheeze.

“Sometimes you are a real dick, do you know that, Rid DiCK?

Malcolm gurgled out a louder wheeze. “Clearly, you and I were made for each other.”

“Goodbye Rid DICK” The crackling, dipping and diving, moan-like speech stopped. 

Riddick Malcolm stopped laughing.

*  *  *

Fiona and I set up a ten o’clock meeting with Bob Langley, Mark Simcoe, and David Groggins. They brought along BillNaylor and Jerry Burns. I rang and asked Brett to join us. 

Even before his arrival, we all journeyed back and forth to the side table holding Danish, donuts, and coffee.

Any hopes for a sunlit lunch on the patio were vanishing into the cascading rain.

Brett arrived, shook hands with all our Baker Street Irregulars, and helped himself to some nourishment .

Jerry had contacted Naomi Ellison, the oldest of the three women throwing the party where David Groggins heard about the retiring sperm donor.

Under orders from Mark and David, Jerry gave Naomi only the bare necessities with regard to her party and our request to meet with her.

“Fiona and I wanted to give you some information that you deserve to have, but we’ll keep it to a minimum as a safety measure for you.” 

They all gave positive nods.

“Unfortunately, a situation has come up here at the clinic that could have devastating consequences. 

“It appears that some members of the clinic, as well as a number of outsiders, are marketing a few special strands of sperm on the international black market.

“The outsiders include members of foreign governments as well as extremely wealthy individuals in the private sector.

“Fiona and I cannot reveal any names at this time because of the very high probability that further criminal activity will occur. This is entirely for your safety. The less you know, the safer you are.

“However, having said that, we want you to know that Mark has talked in very general terms with Ms. Ellison and she has agreed to meet with Fiona, Brett, and myself. 

“Mark tells us that with the help of her room mates, Naomi has completed the list of the invited guests. Unfortunately, as in many cases, several of the people attending their party were not invited.” I turned to Fiona.

“Normally,” began Fiona, “we—Michael, Brett, and I, would simply call the three party hosts and ask the questions or have them come over here to meet with us.

“However, their situation is simply too dangerous for us to take that route.

“We are dealing with a sinister organization. They have killed and they have attempted to kill. The sole reason is that the amount of money that is in play here is in the double-digit billions.”

I was watching the faces of our guests, and to this point, they were suitably impressed. A couple were clearly in mild shock.

“It is best that we meet with the young women at their flat and approach their home with great caution. Michael and I are well known to most of the organization personnel.  We have to take great pains to eliminate any possibility of the three young women falling into harm’s way.”

I hastened to add. “Guys, we’re not trying to spook you here, but we want you to take whatever means you have to lay low. Last time we met, we urged you to take vacation time or stay around your homes. Give us a week or so.Fiona, Brett, and I are confident that we can put this lightning back in the bottle within that time. We are that close. Any questions?”

Mark waved a hand. “Ah, yeah Michael, but should we arm ourselves?”

Fiona took that one.

“Well, Mark; good question. I would take whatever arms you already possess with you but not go out and buy any additional protection. These people—this organization—has demonstrated that they have a frightening network of moles and spies. As you can appreciate, when billions are available, severely harming or killing a person or two is viewed by them as just a cost of doing business. So be very, very careful—all of you.”

I added, “And when you go out to any particular destination, try and take some others with you. This organization is ruthless, but we still have one advantage. That is that they have gone to unparalleled lengths to remain under the radar. They have been able to do this for decades. They crave anonymity and want all these blips on their radar to vanish. I don’t see them as being the aggressor, do you Fiona?”

“No. Michael’s right. Everything we have learned about this organization tells us that the organization wants to avoid any snooping on the part of any individual or group—or governmental agency.”

We sat in silence a few moments, thinking and chewing.

 I then asked,” Anything else, Fiona?”

She waited a moment. “No, I think that ‘s it,” turning to look at each of the young men, “any questions?”

They all said “No” and we concluded our meeting.

Fiona and I made a point of shaking the hand of each man and, once again, implored them to be watchful, to try and be with others, and to report any suspicious people or behavior to us at once—using only our cell phones.

After they left, I felt a very strong surge of sadness. 

Some frightening bitter factor in my subconscious was telling me that we would not be seeing one of the young men alive ever again.

 

End of Chapter Twenty-Eight

 


© Copyright 2018 Nicholas Cochran. All rights reserved.

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