Desert Assassin (2 page)

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HAPTER
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W
ILLIAMS RARELY DISCUSSED THE SPECIFICS
of his time in the U.S. Army other than to say he was Special Forces and served for twenty-one years before retiring. Following the retirement, he spent six months playing golf in Florida and seeing on a steady basis a thirty-two-year-old biologist, Dr. Alice Fay Henderson. Then, just as suddenly as he had retired from the military, he left Florida and emerged in Africa where he worked as a “consultant” for two years. Read consultant as mercenary. One thing that no one who knew him seemed to doubt was that he was trained to destroy and kill.

Following his time in Africa, he flew to Miami, bought the Pathfinder and headed west. Fifteen meandering days later, Williams was in New Mexico looking for a place to call home. He found it after three days of driving through the mostly barren area well south of Albuquerque. A little more than two miles past the last house he had seen was a small faded for sale sign sitting about ten feet in from a back road on which he had been driving. There was a barely legible telephone number at the bottom of the sign. Well off the road were a dilapidated house and garage. After inspecting both, he understood that it would take months of work and a fair amount of money to complete all the needed repairs, but they were doable.

He dialed the number from his cell phone. After several rings he heard a female voice timidly say, “Hello?”

“Are the house and garage west of Route 25 still for sale?”

There was a long pause before a response was forthcoming. “Yes, yes, they are.” There was more than a hint of excitement in the voice.

“Good. How much land is there?”

“A little more than four acres.”

“Excellent. I’m at the property now. I want to buy it. Is there any chance of meeting with you today?”

“Well, I’m in Albuquerque.”

“I can be there by one this afternoon.”

Again there was a long pause before she said, “I can meet you at the Albuquerque Public Library on Copper Avenue.”

“I will be there at one. My name, by the way, is Bill Williams.”

“I’m Mary Landry and I will be at the front desk.”

As Williams began his drive, he realized he was dealing with a woman who was obviously very apprehensive and in all likelihood picked the library for safety. He was also willing to bet that she spent a fair amount of time there and knew most, if not all, of the staff.

He arrived in Albuquerque with a half-hour to spare and used the time to get a container of black coffee from a dingy convenience store located at the edge of the city. From there, guided by his GPS, he drove straight to the library, parked his vehicle and walked through the library entrance at exactly one o’clock.

Standing off to the right side of the main desk was undoubtedly the woman he had come to meet. What immediately struck Williams about her was the clothing she was wearing. Her dress was faded blue. The purse showed signs of having been used for years, and her shoes were worn down. All three items might very well have been purchased at a thrift shop. It was obvious she was in financial distress.

She was slender, about 5 feet 6 inches tall, fair-skinned and most likely in her mid-forties. Her short, straight dark-brown hair showed traces of gray and seemed to be self-cut. With round, light green eyes and full lips, she appeared to have once been a most attractive woman.

Passport, Florida driver’s license and DD214 in hand, he walked up to her and said, “I’m Bill Williams.” Offering her the documents, he continued, “Please inspect these and then please pass them to the young lady behind the desk. She may photocopy them if you wish.”

Much of the nervousness that he had noticed in her seemed to disappear as she briefly looked at the documents. She handed them back to him and said, “That won’t be necessary.”

“Let’s sit at the nearest table,” said Williams.

As Landry looked at Williams after having seen the DD214, a good measure of her anxiety had indeed dissipated when she saw that he had been high-ranking career military. He was self-assured, clean cut, well-dressed, tall, extremely well-built with modestly good looks. The documents revealed his age was forty-two.

Williams got right to the point. “As I said during our phone conversation, I want to buy your property. What are you asking?”

“Well, I’d like to get fifteen thousand.”

“Fifteen thousand?”

She looked disappointed. Williams picked up on this and quickly said, “That’s more than a fair price.”

Landry was surprised. “You do know that the land is all sand, and the house and garage are falling apart?”

“It’s nothing that can’t be repaired. I will have plenty of time to do the work. Do you know a lawyer?”

“If he’s still alive, the one my husband used before he passed away.”

“I’m sorry,” said Williams. “How long ago?”

“Six years.”

“If you don’t mind, please go to the main desk and ask the librarian to find the lawyer’s number. I’ll pay his fee.”

Fifteen minutes later a meeting with the lawyer was scheduled for ten the next morning. That settled, he looked at her bruised right arm and in a soft voice asked, “Who hit you?”

Stammering, she replied, “No one. I tripped and fell.”

“Mrs. Landry, I spent twenty-one years in the Army. I know when someone has been hit.”

Slowly and tearfully she told a horror story of having come to Albuquerque to look for work a year after her husband’s death. She worked as a cashier in a supermarket for three years until it closed. Since then she had depleted what little savings were left and was living off her husband’s small Social Security deposits and an EBT card. A year earlier, she had been forced to move into a one room apartment in an old building that had once been a motel.

“Let me guess. The landlord comes by once a week to collect the rent and then expects something more.”

She looked away from Williams and said nothing.

He knew that he had no choice but to help her.

They sat in silence for the better part of three minutes before he said, “Let’s check you into a good hotel until we can find a permanent place for you to live. I’ll book two rooms as I need a place to stay until we meet with your lawyer tomorrow.”

Landry continued to say nothing, but she had no doubt he was sincere and would do what he said he would. From the library, they drove to the one-time motel. She gathered up her belongings while Williams surveyed the neighborhood from the parking area in front of the building. Although he expected to find the building in a slum area, it was far worse than he had imagined. Shortly thereafter he had her safely in a room at a downtown hotel. He then ordered a full meal to be delivered to the room, guessing that it was to be her first decent meal in ages.

After eating lunch at a nearby delicatessen, he returned to his room and called her. “Mary, dinner will be delivered to you at six and breakfast at eight tomorrow morning. I’ll meet you in the lobby at nine-thirty. Was your husband ever in the service?”

“Yes, the Army.”

“Finally, and I’m sorry to bring this up, but when is your landlord due to make his next visit?”

“Six o’clock tomorrow night.”

“Perfect,” he thought.

He then placed a second call. “General, this is Bill.”

“Goddammit, where the hell have you been?”

“The Sudan and Uganda.”

“If you needed to kick ass, why didn’t you come back?”

“The pay was better and you damn well know where I was.”

“Bullshit.”

Williams laughed.

“What do you need?” asked the General.

What he asked for was delivered before the appointment with the lawyer.

A few minutes into the meeting, Williams knew the lawyer could be trusted. All that was needed to effect the transfer of the property was quickly put into motion.

Looking at Landry, he said, “You now have, if you want it, a job at Kirtland starting next Wednesday. It’s entry level, but it should provide you with more than enough to live on, and it comes with full medical coverage.”

Obviously stunned, she asked, “A job at the base? Why are you doing this?”

Williams pushed back against his chair, clasped his hands behind his head and paused. “Mary, I’ve just returned after spending two years in the Sudan and Uganda. I witnessed atrocities that are beyond belief, including genocide on a scale that defies imagination. Women and children raped and slaughtered. I don’t want to see innocent people suffering here.”

Both Landry and the lawyer remained silent.

What Williams did not reveal was that he most often had been powerless to do anything about the atrocities. He was now in a position to help a woman living in despair through no fault of her own. If he failed to help her, he knew he would live to regret it.

After a full minute passed, he turned to the lawyer and said, “I’m sure Mr. Marchand will make all the necessary arrangements to find you a decent place to live near public transportation to the base. Isn’t that right, Mr. Marchand?”

Understanding that Williams had the power to get Landry into Kirtland Air Force Base in what had to have been a matter of hours, he knew what his only answer had to be. “Of course,” he said.

“Mary, is this satisfactory to you?” asked Williams.

When finally able to speak, she simply said, “Yes.”

Noting that she was on the verge of tears, Williams asked her to give him a few minutes alone with Marchand. As soon as she left the room, he placed an envelope on the lawyer’s desk and said, “I believe you will find this will more than cover all your expenses and fees. Help her to open up both a checking account and a savings account at the credit union on the base. Secure her fifteen thousand. There is an extra thousand in the envelope for Mary to use to get herself ready for Kirtland. Bill me if it’s not enough. You will receive a fax tomorrow which will detail everything you will need to know to get her processed into the base. I will call both of you next week. Thank you for your cooperation and your expertise.”

Williams stood up, shook hands with Marchand and left the room.

Mary was standing by the secretary’s desk in the next room. He walked up to her and said, “Marchand will handle everything. I will call you tonight to make sure you are okay with all of this, and I will check with you after your first day of work.” He gave her a brief hug and walked out of the office.

Williams was standing inside of Mary’s room at quarter to six later that day. The door was locked. There were four pieces of junk furniture in the room – a bed, wooden chair, nightstand and three drawer bureau. The faded gray painted walls were chipped in numerous places, while the ceiling was water stained in the two front corners. Everything in the bathroom belonged in a junk yard. He tried not to think about the existence she endured while living there.

Shortly after six, he heard footsteps outside the door and watched the door handle turn. A loud knock followed. He slowly walked to the door, opened it, stepped out and grabbed the landlord by the neck with his left hand and pulled him into the room.

His victim was well less than six feet, thin and in his fifties. He had no chance against his attacker. Williams released his grip and slammed his right fist into the landlord’s stomach. As he started to fall, Williams once again grabbed him by the neck while delivering a crushing right hand which shattered his victim’s nose. Blood spurted out in all directions. Unconscious, the predator dropped to the floor.

After pulling a wallet and a set of keys out of the landlord’s pockets, he left the room, closed the door and walked slowly toward his SUV. Two teenagers, wearing baggy pants, expensive looking sneakers and showing heavily tattooed arms, were standing at the far end of the building. Williams stopped, turned and faced them. In plain sight, he pulled out what proved to be over six hundred in cash from the wallet along with everything except the credit cards. After stuffing what he pulled from the wallet into a pocket, he walked slowly toward the two would be thugs, holding the wallet shoulder high in his left hand. He stopped fifty feet away and pressed the unlock button on the landlord’s car remote. As Williams knew would happen, lights flashed on and off on a nearby Lincoln. He tossed both the keys and the wallet in the direction of the teenagers, turned around and walked back to his Pathfinder.

Seated in the SUV, he looked at a sprinkling of blood stains on his shirt. “Dammit, Williams, you were sloppy,” he said quietly. There was no way he could imagine the circumstances in which he would next find himself spattered with blood.

After a change of clothing at the hotel, he called Mary and asked her to meet him in the lobby. She in turn asked if he could give her ten minutes. When she came to the lobby, Williams was pleased to see that she was dressed in new clothes. She tried to speak, but it proved to be impossible. He put his right index finger over his lips, handed her an envelope and said, “This is a refund from the landlord. Enjoy Kirtland.” He hugged her and said, “Good-bye.” She squeezed his two hands.

Williams checked out of the hotel the next morning, visited several stores and then headed toward his new home. After reaching the property and unloading his SUV, he decided to visit a diner located several miles to the south. Having entered New Mexico after passing through El Paso, he had seen the uniquely named diner shortly before stumbling upon what was to become his new home.