Chapter Twenty

The plan seemed simple enough as long as Ronald understood that he was in well over his head and about to commit more than one felony. William was in better spirits. They spent most of Saturday driving around the neighborhood where Edward Goldberg’s partner lived.

The man’s name was Adrian Bautista. He was of Spanish-American descent and had a large house in an affluent neighborhood that bordered the Potomac River. The man was divorced, had a few girlfriends, and lived alone. William had access to internet servers that had detailed portfolios on the man once Ronald did the preliminary work..

They made sure Adrian was home for the night before William found a place to park the car on the opposite street from Bautista’s house. It wasn’t hard to blend with the cars on the street. The one-way paved road had a long line of parked cars. Many people lived in the tight cluster of tract housing that looked almost identical to each other. Most people had more than one vehicle per family. Since driveway space was limited to one vehicle, and there were no real lawns, most people had parking passes that gave year-round parking. There were plenty of areas and looked inconspicuous.

The real challenge, as William pointed out, would be the approach to the house. They were parked on the back side. That meant they had to track between the neighbor’s yard directly behind Bautista’s house. William made sure there were no dogs close by. Then it was a matter of either deactivating security cameras on the house, if Bautista was cautious and had any, or avoiding them altogether.

William picked out matching covert apparel for the job, including new black boots. They wore gloves and black greasepaint from the convenient Halloween display that was set up early at the department store. Ronald couldn’t help but feel excited about the whole thing. He felt closer to William than ever before. William left him in the car to scout the area around Bautista’s house. He’d been gone for almost an hour. William wanted Ronald with him every step of the way because he didn’t want to risk losing sight of Ronald in case anything went sideways.

The tap on the passenger window startled Ronald. William crouched on the sidewalk. They parked in a spot that wasn’t close to a street light. Ronald opened the door. William had deactivated the dome light inside the car.

“Remember what I told you?” he asked calmly.

Ronald nodded. Follow close behind William like a shadow attached to him. Do as he did, crouch or slither as needed. Don’t say anything and just breathe. It seemed uncomplicated.

And by the time Ronald realized they were already pressed tight against the side of the white house, he felt cheated by the experience that happened too fast to appreciate.

William expertly picked the lock on the back door. They went inside and waited. There was no sound other than the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen. The house had a smell Ronald associated with men and no air-freshener to break up the scent.

Bautista was asleep in his room upstairs. This part of the plan was something that made Ronald very uncomfortable. But William assured him it was necessary. So when he stood in shadows of the room and watched William overpower Bautista quickly and efficiently, it was impossible not to feel proud of his lover.

“Now, I don’t want you to say anything until I ask you.” William had gagged Bautista. But that wasn’t what shocked Ronald. It was the fact that William had suddenly become a covert agent in the United States. His accent was foreign and flawlessly Russian. It was thick, and William used murmurs between the securing of the ropes that hog-tied Bautista on his bed. Ronald stood back, quietly waiting, trembling with fear and excitement.

Bautista’s round eyes rolled around in his face. He was thin-haired, and in the dark of the bedroom, it was clear he’d lived in excess for a long time. The room had a musty locker room flavor, like mildew and male sweat, that reminded Ronald of high school gymnasiums. He was a slob, and for a moment, Ronald felt whatever business dealings he had with Goldberg weren’t sophisticated enough to include in embezzlement or money laundering.

“We got rid of your partner,” William explained with the heavy accent. “Now it is time for you to come clean.” This was technically untrue, as far as Ronald knew. He had to trust what William told him. Using the death of Goldberg to instill fear in Bautista was just ammunition for the narrative. He quickly subdued Bautista with thick plastic zip ties around his ankles and feet. Strung together and pulled tight, it was impossible for him to break free.

“I—I don’t know anything,” Bautista choked. William had pounded on him in the bed. Waking from a sound sleep to find a strapping 175-poundman lying on top of him, Ronald thought Bautista was lucky it was William. Restrained with the ties, he gulped for air in the dark. He was as unfit as Goldberg, comfortable living and no exercise. For men who owned construction contracts and rose up to affluent living through heavy manual labor. Ronald was surprised to see how leading double lives as criminals made them grow soft. “Ed did all the outside business. I was just supposed to keep the stateside company running clean.”

“Give me names,” William hissed at him.

Ronald had entered the bedroom shortly after William surprised Bautista. His only job was to stay out of the way and look menacing. Ronald knew how to keep a low-profile. He found a blind spot inside the bedroom door, on the other side of the tall dresser and the en suite bathroom.

While William pressed Bautista for information, he was unaware of the figure that crept into the bedroom. Ronald saw something in the figure’s fist. Something long and thin with a pointed tip, the elbow pulled back like a bowstring.

Without a moment to lose, in an instant, Ronald grabbed the nearest item from the top of the dresser and launched himself at the figure.

“Did I kill him?” Ronald asked, standing over the body with the bowling trophy gripped tight in the gloved hand. He was out of breath from the rush of immediate excitement, like he’d been struck by lightning.

William slipped off Bautista. The man rolled his head, eyes wide in the dark. It was one thing to have two strangers in the house attacking; now a third came in, dressed in a black nylon jumpsuit and full hooded mask. No inch of bare skin showed. The object in the figure’s hand came up when William gripped it. He slipped the razor-sharp tactical knife into his belt.

“He’s alive.”

Ronald carefully replaced the bent trophy on the dresser. He wiped his gloves on the pants. “Who is he?”

William removed the hood. He snapped a photo of the attacker’s face. An unshaven unconscious man with a bloody gash at his temple was all Ronald saw. William quickly searched for a wallet. The man had no identification on him; neither did William or Ronald. That was something William required before their intrusion; try to leave no trace.

Unfortunately, the unconscious man bled on the hood, and it transferred to the carpet in the bedroom. William used the remaining zip ties to secure the intruder. He left the man lying on the floor in the bedroom. 

“Let’s go,” William said. He lost the Russian accent. Ronald never had a foreign accent when he spoke. His job was to stand by, stay close to William, and keep quiet. The fact he’d saved William’s life changed everything.

William picked up Bautista’s cell phone, checked for a security password. Bautista used thumbprint recognition. William pressed the man’s thumb against the screen until it activated. He walked out of the bedroom. Ronald followed.