Jesus Saves, Chapter Fifty-Eight

Morgan rose early. Misty was still asleep.Tomorrow, they would leave for Bora-Bora. Today, he would take care of setting up the system of seeing that things were done while they were gone.

It was imperative that he did so. His foreman was a good man. He trusted him. But the crew was new. And new crews were often green.

A green construction crew was often less than fluid in getting things moving along as usual. They had no rhythm. No pattern. They often were out of sync with each other.

He would need his foreman to be able to keep them in line and in sync. He would need things to move. Quickly. This complex would need to be near completion when he returned.

Thus, he had called an early morning meeting. Everyone was supposed to be there. Every worker. It had been mandatory.

He sat down to a warm breakfast. The smell of coffee and pancakes had awakened Misty, who now shuffled to her chair at the table. He smiled. Even with bedhead, she was sexy. But then, she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

After placing his plate in the sink, he went over to where she sat and kissed her on the forehead. Then on the lips. “I will be home by noon, Baby. We will be packing for our anniversary trip when I get back.”

“OK, Morgan, Honey,” she replied groggily. She knew that she could look out and see the upper girders of the new frame. She had watched them go up. That was where he would be. that site.

She kissed his lips again, then let him leave. She sipped her coffee. She would eat in a little while. First, she needed to get dressed. She needed to get ready for the day.

She went into the bedroom. After she dressed, she made their bed. She wished she could go back to bed and wait for his return, but knew that she needed to get other things done. They had to be ready to leave tomorrow.

She went back into the kitchen and got the pancakes he had fixed for her. He was a wonderful cook. smothering them in syrup, she began eating. She hummed softly to herself as she ate. She was happy.

***

After about an hour fighting morning traffic, Morgan arrived at the site. The security guard waved him in and he drove on in. He stood and waited for the others to arrive. One by one, they filed in.

Work had already commenced. That meant that the crew was already here. His foreman was here. His management team had also begun to arrive from his office. He looked at his watch. It was almost time.

The foreman blew the whistle. Morgan, now surrounded by his staff, put the key into the lock of the door to the trailer and turned it. Turning the knob, the last thing he saw was a flash. It was the last thing any of his staff saw as well.

Morgan went flying backward into a pile of re-bar. He hit so hard that a couple of pieces pierced his heart. As he lay there dying, his thoughts turned to Misty.

His lips, now with blood running from them, began to move. “Oh, Misty,” he whispered, “I am so sorry.”

He died before he could witness the explosion that claimed the unfinished complex. No one onsite would survive, except the security guard. He went flying across the street and slammed into the building. He lost consciousness before any emergency team arrived.

Everyone within the reach of the first explosion was killed instantly. Those caught by the second explosion died in the collapse of the structure. the ball of fire from the explosion could be seen from midtown. Windows were rattled throughout the city.

From her window, Misty watched in disbelief as the site burst into a huge fireball. Suddenly, she felt her heart being ripped from her chest. She didn’t want to believe what she was seeing.

“Oh, God, No!” She croaked, a lump coming to her throat. “No! No! No! Not Morgan! No!”

The tears came, then. Then, the voices returned. The urges. The old feelings.

***

Michael’s crew hustled down to the construction site. He knew, from the sounds of things, that there would be no survivors. He had seen the fireball himself. There was no way anyone could live through that.

He had to remind himself that, no matter how things looked, or where clues seemed to point, Torkelsen had struck again. And this time, he had taken more than one life. He had intended it to be so.

Torkelsen, too, had been watching. With his binoculars, he watched it all unfold. He watched the work crew arrive and go to work. He watched the boss arrive and wait for his underlings. He watched his target stick the key in. He watched as the door swung open and the first explosion engulfed the people standing in front of the open door. He even reveled as he watched his target hit the re-bar and become impaled.

He grinned sadistically. Another rich bastard who wouldn’t get any more money. Perhaps he was married and had a widow worth terrorizing. Torkelsen began to laugh.

He put his binoculars back to his eyes and watched the emergency crews arrive. They could look for survivors, but he knew that there weren’t going to be any. Those who were thrown to their deaths were already burnt crisp by the fires inside. He had outdone himself. Nothing could top this.

He watched his nemesis get out of his car. He knew that Michael had no idea he was watching. Or even where he was hiding. He fought the urge to call and taunt until it was just too much.

He took out his cell phone. It was a disposable. Better to use and discard. No way to trace.

He was still grinning as he listened for Michael to pick up. “Come on, damn you,” he muttered as he waited. Michael finally picked up. “Hello, Detective Sherman. How do you like my handiwork? Nice isn’t it?”

Michael was pissed. “Damn you, Ivan, what did these people do to you to deserve this?”

Torkelsen was unphased. “Nothing, personally. Except the fact that I don’t like rich people. they’re so greedy and oppressive, don’t you think?”

Michael was obviously getting physically sick at how he was being answered. “God, Ivan! What is wrong with you?”

Torkelsen smirked. “By the way, nice suit. I wouldn’t want to see you get it all messy, you getting sick and all. Tell yer pals that I’ll be in touch.”

He hit the off button and gave the phone a toss. He heard it break on the cement below him. He turned and left his look out. Tomorrow would be another day. Another target would be marked.

Advertisements