"Purge the Evil" - a novel

by Bill Dunn

(Note: this is a work-in-progress attempt at writing a novel. Feedback, critiques, plot suggestions are more than welcomed.)
 

CHAPTER 13

Friday, November 5th, 10:20 a.m.

Dave “Pit Bull” Peterson and Tom Wilkins sipped coffee in Peterson’s office in the studio complex of WCTR radio. Wilkins usually stopped by the radio offices about once every three weeks to meet with Pit Bull after his show to plan new advertising campaigns for the car dealership. Although the two men were meeting ostensibly to discuss how many commercial spots to run per hour and when Pit Bull would do another Saturday morning live broadcast from the Wilkins Ford-Nissan facility, the only thing they wanted to discuss was the previous day’s successful “mission.” However, the offices at WCTR were rather cramped, and by mid-morning the full compliment of employees—receptionists, studio engineers, salespersons, and on-air personalities—were busily scurrying to and fro, which caused Dave and Tom to speak in whispered tones to each other.

“Did you hear the callers today?” Pit Bull asked.

“Some of them,” Wilkins replied cautiously, not wanted to admit that he usually listened to the broadcast only to make sure his commercials aired at the proper time. Tom considered Pit Bull a very close friend. He agreed with virtually everything Pit Bull said on the air. However, he was not fond of Pit Bull’s over-the-top, inflammatory style. It was a sore subject the two men years ago had agreed to disagree about, and not discuss directly anymore.

“Did you hear Vinny from Meriden, just before 8 o’clock?”

“Um, no. I must’ve been in the shower then,” Wilkins said. “What did he say?”

“Well, at first he made me a little nervous,” Pit Bull began with a chuckle. “He said, ‘Maybe the ghost of Charles Bronson is in West Hartford!’”

Tom stared at Pit Bull with a puzzled expression. “Charles Bronson? I, uh, I don’t get it.”

“Oh, Tom,” Pit Bull said with surprise. “Charles Bronson. You know, the popular ‘Death Wish’ movies. The vigilante movies. Don’t you remember?”

“Yeah, that kind of rings a bell,” Tom said unconvincingly.

“Well anyway, after Vinny said that, every caller for the rest of the show wanted to talk about whether a vigilante, an ‘avenging angel,’ as one caller put it, might be at work cleaning up the streets.”

“That’s not good,” Tom said. “That’s not good at all! Pit Bull, don’t you remember our plan? We want to clean up the streets, yes, but we want it to look like the criminals are shooting each other. We don’t want people to think it’s vigilantes. If that’s who the cops start looking for, that could lead them to…to us.”

“No, don’t worry, Tom,” Pit Bull said. “I’ve been thinking a lot about that. Even if some people suspect a vigilante, they’ll never trace it back to us.” Peterson paused and looked around, making sure he had not raised his voice too loudly for the thin-walled office. “Um, you see,” he continued, noticeably quieter, “we have Captain Bradford on our side. He’ll steer the investigation far away from us. He’s the key, Tom. We’ve got an insider on our team. Even if they think it might be a vigilante, they’ll be looking for someone else, I don’t know who, maybe a younger, hot-headed gun nut, or something. They won’t be looking for respectable, middle-age businessmen. That’s what’s so brilliant about our plan—no one will ever suspect us.”

“I don’t know, Pit Bull. That doesn’t reassure me.” Wilkins stood up and paced in the office. “We said from the beginning that we wanted this to look like thugs shooting thugs. That was the plan. If they think it’s a vigilante, they’ll stop investigating the thugs and start investigating law-abiding citizens. And that’s simply not good for us.”

“Aw Tom, you’re just a little nervous because it’s your turn next. You want to be sure everything will go according to plan—and it will! Trust me, our plan is perfect. You know how I know that? Ask me how I know that.”

Tom rolled his eyes. “OK, how do you know that?”

“Two things,” Pit Bull said excitedly. “First, the Rev’s mission went off without a hitch yesterday. I mean perfect. With Captain Ray’s assistance, we are planning these missions perfectly. They’re flawless.”

“You said two things, didn’t you?” Wilkins asked.

“Yeah, yeah. The other thing, Tom, is something I realized during the show today. Everybody was excited about the idea of a vigilante. Do you know what that means?” Without waiting for an answer, Pit Bull continued, “It means we are doing the right thing!”

“I already know that,” Wilkins said sternly.

“No no, you don’t understand,” Pit Bull said. “We are doing…the…right…thing. After only two missions, the good and decent citizens of our state instantly took notice. They instantly sensed that something exciting and thrilling is taking place: a couple of scumbags are off the streets! I know these people, Tom. I trusts my listeners. Through them I can take the pulse of the entire state. Just think how excited they’ll be when you do your mission next week, then I do mine the week after that. Then we start over again, the captain, then the Rev, then you, then me, and on and on until every last creep is either dead or fled!”

Wilkins shook his head and laughed. “You’re starting to sound like Rev. Morton. What are you turning into, a radio preacher?”

“Hey, I’ve been preaching on the radio for decades. It’s not a religious thing, but it’s still preaching. Preaching the gospel of law and order, my friend!”

“Well, what we need right now, Pit Bull, is a level head. Yes, we’re doing the right thing, and yes, Captain Ray is our inside guy who can steer the investigation away from us. But we cannot afford to let our emotions run wild. We have to be ultra cool and calm and level-headed. If we get too giddy, that’s when we’ll screw up. And that’s when we’ll get caught. Understand?”

“Yeah, I understand,” Pit Bull replied. “But you have to admit, this whole thing is so, so…invigorating.”

“David,” Wilkins said slowly, as he sat back down in his chair, “do me a favor. Imagine you’re saying everything you just said to me, but you’re saying it to Captain Ray. How do you think he would react?”

Pit Bull laughed. “Well, first thing, I’d never say any of this to him. He’d probably shoot me on the spot. I’m only telling you because we’ve known each other for years, and you understand me.”

“Yeah, that’s right, I do understand you,” Wilkins said, sitting up straight in the chair and staring directly at Pit Bull. “I understand that you can get very excited at times, and we all have to be very careful not to get too excited. We have to remember that we are conducting military-style missions. We have to be like robots. No emotions. Do you understand that, Pit Bull?”

“I’m with you, Tom. I get it. I’m not letting my emotions run wild. I’m just…I’m just pumped, man! I’m just fired up because instead of yapping about right and wrong all day long, we’re finally doing something about it.”

“Yes, we are, my friend,” Wilkins said with a smile. “We sure are. But just don’t go shooting your mouth off like this to the captain, OK?”

Pit Bull laughed again. “No chance of that! I don’t want to be his next target.”

“So anyway,” Wilkins said, “I’m running late. Gotta get back to my office. Let’s look at this new proposal you sent me. What the hell’s up with this? I don’t want to spend money on commercials at 5:30 a.m. Nobody’s awake at that hour.”

“Well, I am. At that hour I’ve been awake for a long time. You know, 3 a.m. comes really early!”

“Stop saying that, please! No, I want to focus more on the 8 o’clock hour.”

“OK, but those rates are higher, Tom.”

The two men continued to talk business, but each had a difficult time concentrating on advertising rates, drive-time demographics, and other mundane details. One man couldn’t stop thinking about the exciting and invigorating secret plan of which he was a part. The other man couldn’t stop thinking that his excitable friend was a little too focused on Charles Bronson movies rather than the very real and dangerous path they were on.

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©2009