The Greatest of These by Greg Wendleton (have you read this book .txt) 📗

give them some time to get back here and relax a bit before dinner. Thank you.”

“Consider it done. I’ll make the reservation for three…?”

It was one of those lingering statements that needed confirmation. “Yes, that would be great. As much as they would like to probably be alone, I feel like I should join them tonight.”

Acknowledging and approving of my comment, Pat simply nodded his head. “Well then, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go make that reservation and look forward to seeing the three of you later today. Have a good day, Mr. Cooper, and enjoy your breakfast.”

“I will, Pat, and please, call me Garret.”

Pat nodded, said, “Good day, Garret” and went about his business.

I devoured my amazing breakfast, that was prepared by a true Chef, not a line-cook from Rock and Brews. I smiled to myself and signed the breakfast ticket to my room, leaving a nice tip for my attentive waiter. I replaced my face mask and walked through the restaurant, waving goodbye to my waiter and to Pat.

I stepped outside and into the brightening morning sun. I looked up to the heavens, closed my eyes and thanked God for this new day and the opportunities it would bring. Feeling alive, for the first time since I had received Conrad’s alarming email, just minutes into this past Tuesday morning, I pulled out my phone and took a picture of the front of Mama’s Fish House. I attached it to a text message addressed to Fonda and wrote:

Feeling blessed and optimistic. Wish we were here together. I love you.

I pushed the send button and then marched to my parked Terrain, unlocked it with the key fob and slipped into the driver’s seat. Before I started the engine, I took a good look at the tiny fob attached to the key ring and ran my fingers over it. Such a small thing and what big things it can accomplish. I put my foot on the brake and pushed the start button.

I entered the address printed on Special Agent Presley’s business card into Google Maps and activated the directions. I followed the instructions and at 7:51am I pulled into an open-air parking lot in front of a three-story office building. I parked and then walked inside to find the Maui field office located on the second floor. I took the stairs up the one flight and immediately saw the glass window with a decal of the FBI shield announcing their location.

Special Agent Presley was standing in the small waiting room when I walked in. He looked at his wrist watch, noting that it was before eight and nodded. “Good to see you this morning, Mr. Cooper.”

“Good morning sir. Have you heard anything from the hospital this morning?”

“Yes, I just got off the phone with Dr. Talbot. The Wilhites slept through the night. They are running some additional blood tests to make sure they are in good condition. If they come back clean, the doctor plans to release them this afternoon.”

“That’s great news. I made a dinner reservation for the three of us at Mama’s Fish House for seven o’clock tonight.”

“Well, let’s hope you can keep that reservation. We have a lot of balls in the air and we need to get busy.”

“I understand. I’ll help the investigation any way I can.”

“Good. Follow me then.” Special Agent Presley led me through a touch pad security door into an open bull-pen that contained six desks, only two of which were occupied. I assumed the other four agents were attending to the security of Chad and Jamie at the hospital.

I followed him into an office in the back of the bull-pen and took a seat as directed. Presley closed the door and took a seat opposite me at the small conference table. His laptop and several file folders were laid out on the table. Wasting no time, he announced, “I believe we know the identity of Conrad. I need you to confirm it though.”

He laid a twenty-year old photo down in front of me and sat back. I picked it up and stared at the photo. The man in the photo had thinning hair, but the same square jaw and menacing eyes. I set the photo down and nodded my head. “Yes, that’s Conrad. He keeps his head shaved and has aged, but the eyes, it’s definitely a photo of a younger Conrad.”

“Good. Conrad Bishop, born February 14, 1951. He must have seen this as a belated birthday present to himself. He is ex-CIA. A mutual decision to part company back in ’98. They tracked him for a while and then began to lose interest. He sort of disappeared on them and he eventually fell through the cracks.”

“So, he’s not from Helotes, Texas?”

“No, he was born in El Paso. He was in the Army and served a tour of duty in Viet Nam in 1970 and ’71. Was trained as a sniper, but served in the infantry. Discharged in 1973, kicked around a bit, and then was recruited by the CIA and was put to work using his training.”

Nodding in understanding as Special Agent Presley spoke, I waited for him to pause, then said, “That makes sense. It explains his regimented behavior and skill with a sniper rifle.”

Continuing, he said, “We lifted a clean set of prints from the top, rear section of the Wilhites rental car’s trunk. They belong to a David Michaels of Schertz, Texas. He is former Army, tour of duty in Iraq, sniper training, discharged in 2004. There were some other partial prints, but not enough to get an ID. The hypodermic needle was of no use since it had been run over multiple times. It did contain a strong sedative that was likely injected into either Chad or Jamie.”

Presley removed another eight by ten photograph from the Texas Department of Motor Vehicles. I could not confirm his identity, but his eyes bore a hole right into my soul. “I can’t confirm his identity. I’ve never met the man in