Chapter Four- A Plan With No Beginning

Johnathon groans in pain, "Let me go!" he snaps.

"Not until I get an answer- here I'll remind you; me or Caroline," I smile and look at him for an answer.

"Caroline!" he answers through gritted teeth.

I smile a little wider and release his arm, sending him forward off balance. His right hand catches the fall, giving him the chance to stand and relax his left arm.

"Now," I say as I wipe my face on my sleeve, "let's go get me washed up and some food. I am starving," I turn and walk back to the Volvo, re-entering the driver seat.

John enters the passenger seat a few minutes later, a look of anger and disgust on his face.

"Yes. You can ask me anything."

"How many?" he ask immediately.

"How many in my life time?"

"Yes."

"About seventy or so."

He gives a short, sarcastic laughs and looks out the window. "When did it start?"

I turn into an Applebee's and park close to the entrance.

"About sixteen. My first kill was not an animal, despite the cliche. It was a man in an alley when we were still in California. He was about to beat a women and I stopped him. Yelling for him to leave her alone." I can't help but smile as my veins fill with joy and excitement, "He laughed and came towards me. I crouched down and picked up a large piece of glass from a broken bottle that rested by my right foot. He reached out for me and I swung the glass, catching the palm of his hand. While he looked at it, I came from underneath him and opened his throat with a effortless motion," chills flow up my back as I tell the story. Mouth hungry for another kill.

John stayed silent for a few moments.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Why would I, John? It's not like anyone would actually do anything for me except fill me with fills and fill my time with shrinks and nonsense. So I kinda copied you; joined the military with you, took the two years in law school. The only difference is that you became the Fed and I became the killer."

I exit the car on that last statement. I pull my thermal shirt off and look ay my reflection in the window. I use it to wipe off most of the blood so that not too much attention was drawn to me as I went to the bathroom to wash up. On the back seat I notice a plain dark blue, hooded sweat shirt, so I grab it and put it on over my undershirt. We go in and get our table, John takes a seat and I hit the mens room to wash myself up as best as I can. When I'm satisfied I leave and rejoin John at the table. 

"What can I get you gentlemen to drink?" the waitress asks, her eyes looking me over quickly.

I give a half smile and look her in the eyes, "Mountain Dew, please. My brother John will have his usual; a Budwiser in the bottle."

She jots down the orders on her paid, looks at me once more and says, "I will be back in a moment."

I turn back to John, "So, what do you have to go on so far?"

He taps his index finger on the table in thought, suddenly he stops and leans forward. "I was investigating a series of murders lined to a drug ring. The drug ring then led to the Cartel, which then brought down people who are paid more than I am. I was reassigned to a team directed towards working on this ring. Finding out who was who, the henchmen- so on and so forth. Well I stumbled upon important information. Information that links the Cartel to the government. 

"Which means there is bribery in the top agents and operators. So, as you can see, no badge and no weapon. I was suspended until the case came to an end, but I didn't listen and I continued to investigate on my own. I found names of people in the FBI who work with the Cartel, this discovery granted me a visit from five Cartel members and a threat. If I continued Caroline would be sold, used, and murdered. Then I would be next, placed in public to represent an example.

"So, I went to the only man I knew who could help. And apparently has more than I expected," he smiles half-heartedly and looks down at the table.

His face never fully dropped the look of disgust and anger he now felt for me. But he knew who could help. He felt Edward, he felt the ability and need I had. I'm the only help he has. And, probably, the only help he can trust.

"Alright. Well, as I said, we do this my way."

The waitress comes back with our drinks and napkins, on my is a number written with her name.

Amber. You can't be serious.

Edward appears next to John and starts laughing hysterically, leaning off the side of the chair. I look away and turn back to the waitress and give her a smile.

"Ready to order?"

"Yes," I begin, "I'll have your surf and turf with mashed potatoes. Well done please," I end with a smile at her.

Amber smiles back and looks reluctantly to John,"Yeah I'll take a bacon, cheeseburger with fries."

"Alright. Gentlemen, your orders will be right up," she spins on her heel and walks away.

I take the chance to look over her curvy and slim physic. It's not too skinny, yet not too bulk. Like a work out body without the lost of chest and hips.

John clears his throat, regaining my attention.

"Yes. Well I haven't had any in about two years, so forgive me.

"But we do it my way. We only save to question and then we kill. We only save if we want to scare our target. My rules, no questions."

John looks me hard in the eyes. I look back and see his morality and principles being strained and tested. And then, I see them snap.

"Fine," his tone cold.

"Wow. Talk like that more often and we'll sound alike."

We catch up on life and what we have done in the two years while we eat. When we finished I drove back to my old apartment; I paid the landlord to keep my place without any questions. John followed me inside to my bedroom. I go into the closet, lift up the carpet to reveal a safe. Entering the electronic combination and finger print, the safe opens. I open the lid and pull out a full, key wallet, two Glock 17s and our Father's Colt 1911, resting inside separate shoulder holsters. Next I reach in for another thin case, containing extra clips and silencers.

"You had all this hidden here?" John asks in surprise.

"Yes," I said as I stood up, moving to the bed. 

I set everything down and begin to sort it. I set up both the shoulder holsters for the Glocks, giving them two clips each and the silencer. On mine I set the Colt up to rest under my left arm.

John picks up his and looks the holster over, "These look like they have been hand made."

"And they have. In my early years as I killer, I spent most nights at home. Rarely going out; mind you this is during college and before I inherited the hospital."

"Did you inherit it or kill to get it?"

I look at John and smile, "There are various ways of moving up the ladder, dear brother. You chose the righteous way," I turn back to the guns, "and I chose the path less traveled, which is also a poem by Robert Frost."

I roll up the holster and return to the closet, pulling out a back pack. Carefully I set the item in the large pouch, followed by John's. Reaching to the end of the hanging clothes, i take down two bullet proof vests and slide them in the bag as well. I walk to my night stand and pulled out two LED bulb Maglite flashlights; they are tossed into the front pouch. Next I walk to my bureau and pull out two pairs of black leather gloves. Ones I've used and a brand new pair in case the originals were lost. I hand John the new pair, looking up I find his eyes fixed on my pair.

"Those were in your early days?"

"Yes. I now use black nitrile; less of a chance for carrying evidence from project to project. I can throw evidence away and not think about it. But these," I smile as I look down, "this pair is my trophy. I don't take any- as you've noticed. Memory and the feeling that I made them feel regret and remorse is my trophy. Taking a physical item is too risky. But I have another tool as well."

"And that is?" John asks.

"My K-Bar in my truck. That has been used ever since I started. Yes it's a big knife, but it is reliable and holds memories as well."

And the wheels began to turn. His mind balancing whether or not he can turn me in. Use all that I have said and turn me in, bring in one of the oldest, ruthless serial killers. But I am his flesh and blood. His twin. His brother. The man who knows him better than anyone else, someone he has suffered with. Yet I am also the one who got away, the one that kept him up night after night. Always escaping his grasp.

I break his gaze by leading him out of my apartment and back to his car. I start up the Volvo and head back to his place.

"Where did you begin last time?" I ask him, shattering the silence.

"It was a meth house in New York, which then led to a chain of others, ending with a home close to the Mexican boarder."

"Sounds like we'll be doing some international traveling," I smile. "Now you must also have some kind of record for the female trading groups."

"Yes and no. There have been some transactions caught in port towns here in Massachusetts, New York, and some in the Great Lakes."

"Good. We'll start here tomorrow. See if we find anyone and get them to talk."

"You have no idea what you're doing do you?" John asks, looking at me.

"Nope, not a single clue," I look over at him and give him a great big smile.