Chapter Thirteen

He had planned accordingly. It was something that was reflexive, like brushing his teeth twice a day, once he started doing it, it came naturally. William was the best in the field. He learned on the run, taught himself a few tricks that the government either didn’t know about, chose not to show him, or overlooked altogether out of their inability to move beyond the bureaucracy that got in the way of most missions.

It was easy to keep tabs on Ronald because he was a public figure. At least, in the sense that Ronald had a regular media column when he wasn’t neck-deep in his extraordinary investigative reports, William read the articles. It wasn’t like living vicariously through Ronald’s reporting. Because what William soon realized when he read the published works was Ronald wasn’t residing in the same place since William disappeared. It hurt more than he could ever explain to Ronald. There was a fierce burning whenever he thought of Ronald moving on with his life.

When the story broke about Goldberg, William knew it was time to get back to Washington. Ronald had stumbled into something that on the surface looked like a wealthy businessman taking advantage of the system, embezzling from his company. And Ronald hinted at the laundering side of the oversea shell business. What he didn’t know was how it led through a web of bank transactions that had ties to darker business transactions in Africa, Taiwan, and a few other countries that used Goldberg’s sophisticated services. Some people lost out on a lot of money. It hung in cyberspace somewhere, and now that Goldberg was dead, it was only a matter of time before the reporter who found just a scratch of the business, would eventually come to an untimely demise.

But William wasn’t about to let anything happen to Ronald. He used his outside contacts to secure the passport he’d used the last six months. When he made his way back to the states, it was just a simple manner of acting natural because Americans are fastidious about being arrogant. He borrowed the car service application and vehicle from someone who didn’t mind taking a few days off and still collecting a paycheck.

Then it was just a matter of touring around the city, trailing Ronald, making sure he’d stay out of trouble, and certainly out of the line of sight.

But that ended the moment William saw the taxi swerve to hit Ronald. It was a good fortune and a bit of luck that changed the course of action. After that, William knew it was a matter of getting in front of the bullet when the time came. He’d perched outside Ronald’s apartment for three days, nesting in various areas that allowed him quick access to the apartment when Ronald wasn’t home.

He searched the small place from stem to stern. It was a tidy one-bedroom loft apartment with one nice amenity of a balcony, and little else. It hurt William to think Ronald didn’t move on after he disappeared. Sleeping in a box at the top of a converted colonial house wasn’t living, it was just taking up space and time before Ronald fizzled away.

When the municipal meter reader showed up at the house across the street from Ronald’s apartment, William was ready for him. The guy strolled up the sidewalk with no pretense. He made his way through the gate that separated the front yard to the back. The house was quiet. While many people had cameras surrounding their properties, no one questions a uniform. But the case the municipal worker had over his shoulder wasn’t standard issue equipment.

William waited behind the shed in the backyard. It was a rusted aluminum catch-all shed, but far enough away from the wooden fence that surrounded the yard, William tucked his body behind the shed, near the stack of snow tires, and watched as the man scaled the back porch, pulled himself up on the roof, and began assembling the sniper rifle with the silencer.

It was just a matter of luck that William got to him before he took better aim at Ronald. And the beer bottle casualty wasn’t an issue. But when William found out they planned to remove Ronald, he made it personal. Now there was a municipal worker dead in a dumpster behind the row of townhouses a half block from Ronald’s apartment. The man didn’t have any ID when William found him. And now it was only a matter of time before they found the body; if anyone bothered to look.

When he managed to track back to Ronald’s apartment, he wasn’t surprised to see he’d retreated inside from the balcony after the near-miss, William knew the time had come to own up to the responsibility of explaining actions that at the time seemed like a good idea.