Reads: 230  | Likes: 0  | Shelves: 0  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
The worldwide black market in superior sperm has spawned attempted murder, murder, and a dissatisfied customer who seeks revenge.
The Harry Hope Fertility Clinic becomes the center of the final discoveries, surprises, and rewards.
Michael, Fiona, Brett, and Bill cut through the impossible to discover the boss of the possible.

Submitted: December 03, 2016

A A A | A A A

Submitted: December 03, 2016




A Serial

Nicholas Cochran

Chapter Thirty-Three


Our immediate first call was to Bill. Fiona ran down the party surprises winding up with the fact that Electra was present, apparently watched or guarded by a huge man.

“Bet it was Bart Wales, her cousin. The man’s a moose. Not quite Tom’s size but damn close. Now why would he be there watching Electra?”

I offered, “Maybe they don’t trust her. Or she could have asked for protection because of something we still know nothing about.”

Fiona said with ardor, “I have this wild idea about her and the party, but I need to check it out with Brett, first. However, her attendance at the party doesn’t seem abnormal, although the presence of the bozo does add yet another peculiar twist to the tale of the families Wales.”

“Are we reasonably sure that this idea of one guy fathering a ton of tikes began at this party?” inhaled Bill.

“Well, it’s as far back as we’ve been able to trace it Bill,” I paused, “beyond Groggins, Naylor, and Burns, there is only this party. 

We have the list and Brett has a copy. He’s working at home today trying to figure out from the list the answer to your question: was the party the beginning of the Maximum Max anecdote? 

He’s running down all the names with his assets and equipment; which I must say Bill, sounds like it might rival yours. Brett’s hobby is his life,” I paused again, “is everyone out there trying to match or surpass the NSA?”

Bill drew no humor from my remark, “Well that would be one hell of a feat, guys; to somehow figure out if the story began at the party or before. I have to meet this Brett. As I said before, Fiona and I will steal him away unless you treat him much better than right.”

I had no comment to make to this truism.

Fiona changed the subject. “We published the death notice, the cremation, as well as printing the time for your memorial service. I estimate, the way things are cascading, that we have perhaps a week at most to find and handcuff the perps before they become overly suspicious.

I say that because I have a distinct feeling that they are not believing your death, despite all the visual and printed ‘proof’. I’d really like to move you Bill. If I’m right about their continuing skepticism, they will make a thorough check of the hospital within a day or so by any means they think necessary. Even a ‘hospital invasion’.”

I felt a sudden chill as Fiona spoke. I think Bill did too because he immediately replied to her suggestion.

“Great idea, ‘Ona; get me out of here in an hour or so. I’ll talk to the Head Nurse and tell her to arrange an ambulance with all the appropriate cover,” thinking, “but they may be watching the ambulance flow, now that I think about it; maybe a rented or stolen car about three in the morning . . . yeah; let’s do that.

I’ll arrange with the lads for the stolen car. I’ll talk with the Head Nurse personally. I think the bad guys are tapping into the hospital phone system. Yeah, I’ll arrange it. I’ll get Tom to have the lads find me a safe house until I can pop up again.”

“Great idea Bill,” enthused Fiona, “I agree with you on the thoroughness of the organization. I’ll get everything arranged from this end.”

*  *  *

Randy Barger inhaled smoothly in his lying position as he focused his Nikon Coolpix P900. His Detect Ear Pro listening device was on and he could hear conversations of the subjects while he snapped photos from his elevated position three hundred yards from his targets. 

Rankar Meckta zeroed in his Leica on the group of people four hundred yards away. He was not employing a listening device.

Randy Barger and Rankar Meckta were in Redwood park, behind a redwood giant, on separate ridges with a clear view of the secluded picnic ground staked out by the Wales families. 

Randy’s comrade from the Hells Angels, Tom Bubb, arranged for Randy’s set-up by calls to Randy’s father on behalf of Bill Richardson. The Honorary President of the club acted immediately. Once Tom furnished the Regional Park and the selected area to the lads, everything happened within minutes. They had one day to collect equipment and find a suitable vantage point. They found everything they needed within two hours from the door of the Oakland club.

Rankar Meckta arrived three hours after Randy and marked the perfect position for his long-distance photography of the Wales families’ picnic the following day. The forecast was for clear skies, temperatures in the high seventies, with very little wind. 

Meckta was one of four Czech assets hired by C.A.R. to avenge the three deaths of the help hired by the leader of C.A.R. in his attempt to right the sperm deal that the leader quickly perceived as a raw deal.

As planned—and expected, the two recent black assets dispatched by the leader, were detained by members of the organization. They had vanished and presumed to be dead. The first two white Czechs were also missing. 

However, the black-white ploy had succeeded. Meckta and Janwitz, the follow-up ‘whites’ were successful in eluding the agents of the organization. 

Working through secret channels, they arrived on the west coast and were now identifying their targets: June and Tarquin Wales, while agents of C.A.R. were tracing every lead to determine the head of the organization.

Although Meckta would have a very easy open shot at the intended targets, there was far too much risk of others being injured. In addition, police would be on the scene almost immediately. The five plainclothes security guards roaming the perimeter of the grassy glen would know where to look within seconds. They were constantly raising their binoculars to scan the area out one hundred and fifty yards form the picnic.

Although the boss of the organization anticipated snoopers; even troublemakers, the organization was unaware of the amateur group opposing them as well as the highly trained C.A.R. operatives assigned to spy on them.

Meckta’s and Janwitz’s  employer stressed the point many times with them before they were launched, that he had no quarrel with the organization itself, only with the two ‘scammers’. 

For Meckta, first the photos, to be followed by a cautious pursuit of the two, and their elimination. 

For Randy, the orders were to get a perfectly clear photo of everyone in attendance; and especially the five security guards. Immediately following the picnic, the pictures and the conversations were to be delivered at once to Doctor MichaelBarnes at the Harry Hope Fertility Clinic.

Meckta left after snapping several photos of his targets. He included a number of photos of all the other persons at the picnic, including the five security guards, just in case.

Randy remained in position until every member of the Wales families, as well as every guest and security guard, departed.

Meckta unwittingly passed within twenty yards of Randy’s position while he silently skulked through the undergrowth to his car.

*  *  *

We were all; Fiona, Brett, and I, fired up and ready to discuss Brett’s theories abut the list as well as to have Fiona voice her suspicion about the presence Electra Wales at the party in the Marina. 

However, before that stage of excited guesswork, we listened to a number of the audio tapes supplied by Randy Barger. There were also hundreds of excellent photos which Randy had very kindly arranged in separate piles for each person, and slipped over with a rubber band. 

We all dismissed ninety-five percent of the photos as virtual duplicates, but the best of each person—some twenty-two of them—we studied for about half an hour. There they were; every member of the Wales families plus five expensively-attired security guards.

Armed with both audio and visuals of the picnic members we opened our discussions.

“I put all the names in my computer,” Brett began, “and traced every one of them. All the information I got,” sighing heavily, “told me nothing. Every member of that party is clean in every aspect except for the odd DUI, peeing in public, or some other minor misdemeanors associated with too much alcohol; or weed; drugs.”

I must have had a hangdog look on my face at this revelation—or rather, lack of revelation, because Fiona took my arm in a firm grip.

“Don’t you see, darling? It’s okay. We have our answer.”

Now Brett and I wore respective looks of confusion mingled with a share of the excitement that Fiona’s manner was bringing to our conversation.

“It’s here.”

Fiona stopped and waited for the penny to drop in Brett’s head as well as mine.

“It’s here?” quested Brett.


 I finally ‘got 'it’. “You mean Electra spread the rumor or whatever?”

Absolutely. Let’s think about this. First, Brett has now confirmed that everyone on the list or otherwise identified is clean. Take them all away and there they are: Electra and her bodyguard; well, I think; her monitor, her shadow.

Tom Bubb confirms this for us because he told us about all his meetings with Electra as well as the members of both families at the picnic. His conclusion is that she really doesn’t have a clue what’s going on, well—didn’t have a clue until shortly before that party. 

Our conclusions based on her age and that she probably was a ‘mistake’, removed her from the family business; from the organization. In fact, every move by one member or another of the families has been to either follow her or shield her. From what? The truth about the family.”

Fiona took in a deep breath, “There. Questions?”

I shook my head as I had on thousands of other occasions when the sheer brilliance of my wife had both surprised and shocked me. Her ability to laser in on the root of any puzzle or murky mess of a situation was one of the first things that I noticed;on our first date.

Now, years later, her laser seemed to be even more precise and unerring.

“Man, what a thought, Fiona,” gushed Brett, “by process of elimination. Holmesian: 

“When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”. 

Electra must be the source.”

“But if that’s the case,” I asked, “the next question is why?”

Fiona was waiting with both barrels loaded, “She must now know something about the organization. Up until that party, let’s assume that she was never told about the super sperm or advised in any way about the nature of the dicey family business. 

But at some point, for some reason, someone in the family –or families, dropped a word,  name—something that a person as brilliant as Electra would snap up,” stopping to wonder, “but if she truly is that clever, why would she . . . how could she not know about the business much earlier?”

Brett was ready to fire. “That would mean that she was telling people at the party about this to get attention and fan the flames. The guys tell Mark, Mark tells Bob Langley; wah. It all drops into place. Great work Fiona.” Brett grinned the broadest of grins and hugged her. “Now we know where the boss is.”

Fiona and I dropped our smiles and put on our frowns. What had the puzzlemaster deduced form Fiona’s conclusion?


End of Chapter Thirty-Three

© Copyright 2018 Nicholas Cochran. All rights reserved.

Add Your Comments: