Today’s
excerpt is from Pool Of Blood, Book #3 of the Becker Trilogy. Jim sees a picture of a man who killed the
previous night. The problem being he
thought he had killed the man years before.
Enjoy and have a great day.
m.j.
When the last
dish was dried and put away, Bob made his call to Gus. “Hey, friend—got a favor to ask.”
“Make it
quick. I’m working a hot one. Some bozo shot and killed a fella in a bar
after an exchange of a few unpleasantries.
Happened late yesterday afternoon.
Got a good picture of the guy, but no identification yet.”
“You try facial
recognition?”
“No—why didn’t I
think of that?”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t worry
about it, I’m just a bit grumpy right now.
Damned guy looks like a recruiting poster for a terrorist
organization. The witnesses in the bar
told us he looked Middle Eastern. The
security cameras photo we got sure confirms it…but nothing.”
Suddenly, Bob
got an idea. “You got time to email the
photo to me?”
“Sure. Get it right out to you. May I ask why?”
“So I can
commiserate with you better, knowing what he looks like.”
“Horseshit. What do you have running around in that
devious brain of yours?”
“Just send the
damned picture. You got prints?”
“No, Bob. The bartender wanted the place all nice and
clean when we got there so he washed all the glasses…thanks a heap. Picture on the way. Wait—what favor did you want?”
“About setting
things up for a court appearance Michelle has on Thursday. But that’ll keep for now. Get me the photo and go back to work.”
After a
still-grumpy Gus signed off, Bob brought the others up-to-speed on the
call. He added, “So, Jim—I was thinking
while talking to him you might be able to find something out about the killer,
since he appears to be from the Middle East.”
“Sure…worth a
try.”
When the picture
came in, Bob took his laptop into the living room, where Jim, Holly, and Terri
had moved to when Michelle went into her office to work on a few things, at the
same time Bob went for his laptop.
Jim took one
look at the picture and had the look of a man looking at a ghost. Holly noticed and moved over next to Jim on
the couch. She took one look and her
body tightened. “No way, Jim. No way you missed your shot.”
Jim shook his
head. “I didn’t. I kept the scope on him long enough to see
his brains splatter all over hell and gone.
But this guy sure is a dead ringer.
Let me run facial recognition through our computer. Bob, send this to my laptop…please.”
Bob, knowing the
picture looked very much like someone Jim had killed somewhere along the line,
didn’t answer. He did as asked. Jim then ran the picture through his computer
back at his ranch. The result came back: 100% match for Akbar Rouhani (aka Sammy
Savage). Rouhani was an Iranian who had
joined the Taliban in Pakistan. Jim,
Holly, and some friends of theirs had tracked him and some other high-value
terrorists to a mountain camp inside Pakistan.
Jim had started their raid with a shot through Rouhani’s forehead.
Holly looked at
Jim’s screen and shook her head. “I
repeat—no way. He must have a twin or
something. The jackass you shot is
dead…without any doubt.”
Jim got his cell
phone out and called an old friend—one who had been on the same raid. Hector Garcia answered, “Hi, Jim. How’s things at the rehab center?”
“Still at
Bob’s. Got stuff going on the center,
but haven’t spent any time there. The
reason for my call is, guess whose picture I’m staring at? He killed someone last night?”
“Holly…oh, you
used ‘he’ rather than she—so I give.”
“Sammy Savage.”
“Give it a rest,
Stanley James. Remember I was waiting
for you to get him out of the way so I could take out the hotshot behind
him. I saw his brains splatter all to
hell and gone.”
“Hec, I got a
hundred percent match from facial recognition.
Holly suggested a twin. Far as I
know, he was an only child. You know
anything I don’t?”
“Probably a lot
of things—but not involving this very
dead individual. Hold it…I do remember
hearing somewhere along the line back in the day…maybe when you weren’t
around…about his possibly having been born in the U.S., but his dad flew the
coop with him and went back to Iran.
Don’t know if it was a crock or not.”
“Thanks, Hec—you
may have given me something to go on.
I’ll get back to you if I find out anything.”
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