Chapter Nine
The three of them headed for the den, their favorite place in the cabin. A long time ago in Vietnam, the trio had been given the code name Three Blind Mice. They had been elite military assassins did what they were told, never asked embarrassing questions, executed their orders. It was still pretty much that way. And they were the best at what they did.
Starkey was the leader, just as it had been in Vietnam. He was the smartest and the toughest. He hadn't changed much physically over the years. He was six feet one, had a thirty-three-inch waist, a tan, weathered face, appropriate for his fifty-five years. His blond hair was now peppered with gray. He didn't laugh easily, but when he did, everybody usually laughed with him.
Brownley Harris was a stocky five feet eight, but with a surprisingly well-toned body at age fifty-one, considering all the beer he drank. He had hooded brown eyes with thick bushy eyebrows, almost a unibrow. His hair was still black, though flecked with gray now, and he wore it in a military-style buzz cut, though not a'high and tight'.
Warren 'the Kid' Griffin was the youngest of the group, and still the most impulsive. He looked up to both of the other men, but especially Starkey. Griffin was six feet two, lanky, and reminded people, especially older women, of the folk-rock singer James Taylor. His strawberry blond hair was long on the sides but thinning on top.
“I kind of like old Hannibal the Cannibal,”Griffin said as they entered the den. “Especially now that Hollywood decided he's the good guy. Only kills people who don't have nice manners, or taste in fine art. Hey, what's wrong with that?”
“Works for me,” said Harris.
Starkey locked the door into the den, then slid a plain, black-box videotape into the machine. He loved the den, with its leather seating arrangement, thirty-six-inch Philips TV, and armoire filled with tapes that were categorized chronologically. “Showtime,” said Starkey. “Dim the house lights.”
The first image was shaky, as someone approached a small, ordinary-looking redbrick house. Then a second man came into view. A third person, the camera operator, moved closer and closer until the shot was through a grimy, bug-specked picture window into the living room. There were three women in the room, laughing and chatting up a storm, totally unaware that they were being watched by three strangers, and also being filmed.
Take note that the opening scene is one long camera move without a cut,“ said Harris. ”Cinematographer is a genius, if I don't say so myself.'
“Yeah, you're an artist all right,” said Griffin. “Probably some latent fagola in you.”
The women, who looked to be in their mid-thirties, were now clearly visible through the window. They were drinking white wine, laughing it up on their 'ladies' night'. They wore shorts and had good legs that deserved to be shown off. Barbara Green stretched out a leg and touched her toes, almost as if she were preening for the movie.
The shaky camera shot continued around the brick house to the back door at the kitchen. There was sound with the picture now. One of the three intruders began to bang on the aluminum screen door.
Then a voice came from inside. “Coming! Who is it? Oohh, I hope it's Russell Crowe. I just saw A Beautiful Mind. Now that man is beautiful.”
“It's not Russell Crowe, lady,” said Brownley Harris, who was obviously the camera operator.
Tanya Jackson opened the kitchen door and looked terribly confused for a split second, before Thomas Starkey cut her throat with the survival knife. The woman moaned, dropped to her knees, then fell onto her face. Tanya was dead before she hit the black and olive-green checkerboard linoleum of the kitchen floor.
“Somebody's very good with a survival knife. You haven't lost your touch over the years, ”Harris said to Starkey as he drank beer and watched the movie.
The hand-held camera shot continued, moving quickly through the kitchen. Right over the bleeding, twitching body of Tanya Jackson. Then into the living room of the
house. A jumpy song by Destiny's Child was playing on the radio and now became part of the movie soundtrack.
“What's going on? Barbara Green screamed from the couch, and curled herself into a protective ball. ”Who are you? Where's Tanya?'
Starkey was on her in an instant with the knife. He even mugged for the camera, leered eerily. Then he chased Maureen Bruno into the kitchen, where he drove the RTAK into the center of her back. She threw both arms into the air as if she was surrendering.
The camera reversed angles to show Warren Griffin. He was bringing up the rear. It was Griffin who had brought the blue paint, and who would actually paint the faces and torsos of the three murder victims.
Sitting in the den of their cabin, the buddies watched the film twice more. When the third showing was over, Thomas Starkey removed the videocassette. “Hear, hear!” said Starkey, and they all raised their beer mugs. “We're not getting older, we're getting better and better.”
Alex Cross 8 - Four Blind Mice
Chapter Ten
Hoorah!
In the morning, Sampson and I arrived at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, to begin our investigation into the Bluelady Murders. C-130s and 141s were constantly flying overhead. I drove along something called the All American Freeway, which I then took to Reilly Road. Surprisingly, there had been no security cordon around the Army base, no fence around the post, no main gate until September 11. The Army had allowed local motorists to use base roads as transit from one side of Bragg to the other.
The base itself measured twenty-five miles east-west, ten miles north-south. It was home for combat troops
