Tuesday, November 29, 2016

Pool Of Blood, Book #3 of the Becker Trilogy - Jim sees picture of a man thought to be dead.



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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