"Before Nightfall: the Beginning of the Ebon Phoenix, Part IV"
On the way out of the plant, Don notified Andy remotely to take Charles back to the mansion, pick up Xavior from school, and make sure Elisa got some flowers in her hospital room, to remind her that people were praying for her speedy recovery. Don hopped into the company car, and sped off to speak with Commissioner Newton at the Old Charleston Courthouse.
Dustin Newton had just been appointed to the office, and Don was already calling in friendly favors from their days of working together at Casey’s General Store. Though the store no longer stood in town, Don hadn’t seen a reason to stop his friendship with his former co-worker. Dustin already had reports preceding Don’s arrival,about the two billion dollar suit’s disappearance and was already prepared to tell the thirtysomething entrepreneur that his office was “doing everything they could to track the suit down.” He wasn’t ready for his former co-worker to come in and tell him exactly who had taken it and where it was headed.
“Excuse me?” Dustin asked, when Don stood in his office doorway, casually leaning on the door jamb.
“It’s just like I said it, ‘Fig,’” Don said, using Dustin’s familiar nickname, “CJ took the suit to deliver it to Dan. One of my administrative assistants witnessed him with the suit in his possession and overheard enough of CJ’s mumblings to validate my fears about Dan. You know how much he still hates me for what happened.”
Dustin nodded. “Okay, do you know - for certain - that CJ is taking it to Dan?”
Don sighed and shook his head. “No. I don’t know it for certain. But, I do know that CJ took it. That much is fact. It’s just that he was gung-ho for having Dan join the project, and I never gave him a straightforward answer, one way or the other. I suppose it’s my fault, but I thought CJ would leave if I didn’t allow Dan to come in to help.”
“Do you know where he might be headed?”
The bald billionaire shook his head. “I can only guess. Meeting here in the city, where I have so many employees watching, would be foolish. Even meeting in the slums would be stupid, considering how much publicity this whole thing’s gotten. Every two-bit crook in Charleston’s going to be looking to get this thing, if even just to extort me for the money.
“No, if I were CJ and I were smart, I’d high-tail it out of the city at the same time I was fleeing the crime scene. Go somewhere more familiar, wait until the heat is off, and then go where the wind takes me.”
“You haven’t received a ransom threat?” Dustin asked.
“No,” Don said. “I don’t think they’re out for me, but they’re probably out for money. I made up my mind a few days ago that I wasn’t going to accept the military’s offer to utilize the suit for combat purposes. CJ might be trying to monopolize on that. He might still have some people here loyal to him, which is how he might have known of my decision.”
Commissioner Newton nodded. “And where might CJ go to hide?”
Don smirked. “The place he likes most.
“Home.”
*
Newton’s unmarked squad car held only two: himself and Don Ford, who had insisted he come along to speak with CJ. Perhaps, Ford felt, he could convince his former project head to give back the prototype suit by telling him it was faulty. Along with them came Charleston city, Coles and Macon county, and Illinois state troopers’ cars. The billionaire had suggested CJ might be more willing to back down and listen to reason if the authorities came in force.
Upon reaching the Coffman residence in Decatur, a car sped from behind the building, taking to the back roads. Macon County sped on ahead, being most familiar with these roads, letting the other cars take up the rear. Radios were a constant source of chatter, and Don’s fingers had firmly entrenched themselves into Dustin’s dash and arm rest.
When CJ realized he wasn’t going to lose the locals on the country dirt roads, he frantically wracked his brain for a place dangerous enough in which to lose police. He briefly ducked around a few of the streets of Harristown and Niantic, which was enough to shake some of the police from Charleston and the state, but the Macon County department and Commissioner Newton’s vehicles stayed firmly in sight of CJ’s car.
CJ was on the road to Illiopolis when he screeched to a halt, leaping from a still running, still moving vehicle, shoving himself underneath the barbed-wire fence around the old Illiopolis chemical plant. He and Dan had had their first brush with the law here, and he thought it ironically fitting that it may be his last. He was well into the plant’s rusted and collapsing infrastructure when the Macon County police poured out onto the scene.
The radio in Newton’s vehicle squelched to life as the police at the scene finished their search of Coffman’s car, but no suit had been found. Don then directed Dustin how to get to the abandoned chemical plant, and soon the backup the Macon County police needed had arrived. Together, the forces began prying back chain-linked fence and entering the plant. Ignoring the warnings to leave it up to the law enforcement officials, Don charged in with the commissioner, running for the main warehouse.
“CJ!” Don called out inside the main building. A stutter, clank, louder thunk, and muffled curse alerted the billionaire to his presence, and Don charged up a nearby staircase to a narrow catwalk, where CJ was nursing an injury on his hand.
“CJ, I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want them to hurt you,” Don started, easing forward. “I just want my suit back. I don’t even want to press charges.”
“You weren’t even going to ask me what I thought about the military project!” he yelled back. “You were just going to go ahead and cancel, even though we could have made a lot more money with a government contract!”
Don shook his head and eased forward more. “CJ, you weren’t around,” he spoke calmly. “I wanted to talk it over with you, but I didn’t know how to get ahold of you. I was flying blind.”
“Why wouldn’t you let Dan help?”
Don stopped. “CJ, you know that he and I haven’t spoken in years. We’re both too proud and both too selfish to admit to the other we were wrong. And now really isn’t the time, CJ. This stantion isn’t going to hold much longer. Let me help you down, and we can talk about this.”
CJ snarled. “Dan’s got the suit now. I’m not giving it back. Call it pride and selfishness,” he smiled, “but I think we’re going to be able to set ourselves up for life with this.” Then, CJ pulled a gun from his pocket and leveled it at his former boss. “And, if you’re out of the way, we won’t have to worry about lawsuits.”
One of the officers below shouted to the others that their pursuit had a gun. CJ’s trigger finger started to squeeze, and Don ducked out of the way. CJ’s aim was off, and he struck an old gas main, which leaked into the rafters and pipes above.
“Mr. Coffman, lay down your weapon!” Commissioner Newton declared.
CJ, in a fit of bravado, began waving it around in wide hand motions. “Or what?” he yelled over the whine of depressurizing gases.
“Fire a warning shot,” said one of the police officers on the ground floor, as Commissioner Newton made his way up the staircase to keep a closer eye on Don and CJ. One of the officers let a shot fly, and it struck a piece of metal on the ceiling, sparking the gas, causing an explosion which shook free the catwalk, sending both CJ and Don hurtling over the edge. Don’s hand had been gripping the rail, and he was dangling from it, staring down into a pile of collapsed rusted girders and pipes. CJ struggled to reach out, Don’s other hand trying to grab for him.
“Give me your hand!” Don cried, trying to scoot himself closer to CJ’s flailing body. As their fingers touched, the fires erupting above them had finally grown too powerful, and old pressurized pipes began blowing out under the intense exposure, knocking Don’s former business partner into a tangled mass of pipes and jagged pieces of old, rusty metal. Officers rushed to try and catch him, but only a trickle of blood from under the pile of rubble marked CJ’s fate. Dustin Newton ran to Don’s aid, and the entrepreneur was able to be pulled to safety, just as the ceiling threatened to collapse around the survivors.
They all rushed to their vehicles as the last remaining pieces of the Illiopolis chemical facility caved in. CJ Coffman, even if he had survived the fall, was now assuredly no more.
*
Entering the cathedral of St. Charles Borromeo, Don sought the quiet closet of the confessional booths, and soon, a familiar voice was there to greet him. “What troubles you, my son?”
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” Don began. “I treated one of my friends poorly, and now I feel that I have lost him on such a bad note that I might not be able to salvage anything of the old friendships we shared, let alone the objects which he had stolen from me.”
“Don,” Father John said, “CJ’s death wasn’t your fault. It was his. He chose to do what he did, and you could have done no more for him than what you did. I saw the news.”
“But, Father ...”
“Please, call me ‘JJ.’ It makes me feel better.”
“JJ,” Don said, “would it be wrong for me not to attend the funeral?”
“No,” Father John said, “I think God would understand. Besides, I don’t think you’d be very welcome there, anyway.”
There was a long pause before Don spoke again. “All I really want to know is, why did he do it?”
Father John Janega nodded to himself, mulling over his words. “I don’t think you’ll know what happened unless you walk a mile in his shoes. See what CJ saw, and then you’ll know why he did it.”
Don thought long about this, and tapped the screen separating him from the pastor. “Thank you, JJ, Father John. I think I know what I have to do.”
Dustin Newton had just been appointed to the office, and Don was already calling in friendly favors from their days of working together at Casey’s General Store. Though the store no longer stood in town, Don hadn’t seen a reason to stop his friendship with his former co-worker. Dustin already had reports preceding Don’s arrival,about the two billion dollar suit’s disappearance and was already prepared to tell the thirtysomething entrepreneur that his office was “doing everything they could to track the suit down.” He wasn’t ready for his former co-worker to come in and tell him exactly who had taken it and where it was headed.
“Excuse me?” Dustin asked, when Don stood in his office doorway, casually leaning on the door jamb.
“It’s just like I said it, ‘Fig,’” Don said, using Dustin’s familiar nickname, “CJ took the suit to deliver it to Dan. One of my administrative assistants witnessed him with the suit in his possession and overheard enough of CJ’s mumblings to validate my fears about Dan. You know how much he still hates me for what happened.”
Dustin nodded. “Okay, do you know - for certain - that CJ is taking it to Dan?”
Don sighed and shook his head. “No. I don’t know it for certain. But, I do know that CJ took it. That much is fact. It’s just that he was gung-ho for having Dan join the project, and I never gave him a straightforward answer, one way or the other. I suppose it’s my fault, but I thought CJ would leave if I didn’t allow Dan to come in to help.”
“Do you know where he might be headed?”
The bald billionaire shook his head. “I can only guess. Meeting here in the city, where I have so many employees watching, would be foolish. Even meeting in the slums would be stupid, considering how much publicity this whole thing’s gotten. Every two-bit crook in Charleston’s going to be looking to get this thing, if even just to extort me for the money.
“No, if I were CJ and I were smart, I’d high-tail it out of the city at the same time I was fleeing the crime scene. Go somewhere more familiar, wait until the heat is off, and then go where the wind takes me.”
“You haven’t received a ransom threat?” Dustin asked.
“No,” Don said. “I don’t think they’re out for me, but they’re probably out for money. I made up my mind a few days ago that I wasn’t going to accept the military’s offer to utilize the suit for combat purposes. CJ might be trying to monopolize on that. He might still have some people here loyal to him, which is how he might have known of my decision.”
Commissioner Newton nodded. “And where might CJ go to hide?”
Don smirked. “The place he likes most.
“Home.”
*
Newton’s unmarked squad car held only two: himself and Don Ford, who had insisted he come along to speak with CJ. Perhaps, Ford felt, he could convince his former project head to give back the prototype suit by telling him it was faulty. Along with them came Charleston city, Coles and Macon county, and Illinois state troopers’ cars. The billionaire had suggested CJ might be more willing to back down and listen to reason if the authorities came in force.
Upon reaching the Coffman residence in Decatur, a car sped from behind the building, taking to the back roads. Macon County sped on ahead, being most familiar with these roads, letting the other cars take up the rear. Radios were a constant source of chatter, and Don’s fingers had firmly entrenched themselves into Dustin’s dash and arm rest.
When CJ realized he wasn’t going to lose the locals on the country dirt roads, he frantically wracked his brain for a place dangerous enough in which to lose police. He briefly ducked around a few of the streets of Harristown and Niantic, which was enough to shake some of the police from Charleston and the state, but the Macon County department and Commissioner Newton’s vehicles stayed firmly in sight of CJ’s car.
CJ was on the road to Illiopolis when he screeched to a halt, leaping from a still running, still moving vehicle, shoving himself underneath the barbed-wire fence around the old Illiopolis chemical plant. He and Dan had had their first brush with the law here, and he thought it ironically fitting that it may be his last. He was well into the plant’s rusted and collapsing infrastructure when the Macon County police poured out onto the scene.
The radio in Newton’s vehicle squelched to life as the police at the scene finished their search of Coffman’s car, but no suit had been found. Don then directed Dustin how to get to the abandoned chemical plant, and soon the backup the Macon County police needed had arrived. Together, the forces began prying back chain-linked fence and entering the plant. Ignoring the warnings to leave it up to the law enforcement officials, Don charged in with the commissioner, running for the main warehouse.
“CJ!” Don called out inside the main building. A stutter, clank, louder thunk, and muffled curse alerted the billionaire to his presence, and Don charged up a nearby staircase to a narrow catwalk, where CJ was nursing an injury on his hand.
“CJ, I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want them to hurt you,” Don started, easing forward. “I just want my suit back. I don’t even want to press charges.”
“You weren’t even going to ask me what I thought about the military project!” he yelled back. “You were just going to go ahead and cancel, even though we could have made a lot more money with a government contract!”
Don shook his head and eased forward more. “CJ, you weren’t around,” he spoke calmly. “I wanted to talk it over with you, but I didn’t know how to get ahold of you. I was flying blind.”
“Why wouldn’t you let Dan help?”
Don stopped. “CJ, you know that he and I haven’t spoken in years. We’re both too proud and both too selfish to admit to the other we were wrong. And now really isn’t the time, CJ. This stantion isn’t going to hold much longer. Let me help you down, and we can talk about this.”
CJ snarled. “Dan’s got the suit now. I’m not giving it back. Call it pride and selfishness,” he smiled, “but I think we’re going to be able to set ourselves up for life with this.” Then, CJ pulled a gun from his pocket and leveled it at his former boss. “And, if you’re out of the way, we won’t have to worry about lawsuits.”
One of the officers below shouted to the others that their pursuit had a gun. CJ’s trigger finger started to squeeze, and Don ducked out of the way. CJ’s aim was off, and he struck an old gas main, which leaked into the rafters and pipes above.
“Mr. Coffman, lay down your weapon!” Commissioner Newton declared.
CJ, in a fit of bravado, began waving it around in wide hand motions. “Or what?” he yelled over the whine of depressurizing gases.
“Fire a warning shot,” said one of the police officers on the ground floor, as Commissioner Newton made his way up the staircase to keep a closer eye on Don and CJ. One of the officers let a shot fly, and it struck a piece of metal on the ceiling, sparking the gas, causing an explosion which shook free the catwalk, sending both CJ and Don hurtling over the edge. Don’s hand had been gripping the rail, and he was dangling from it, staring down into a pile of collapsed rusted girders and pipes. CJ struggled to reach out, Don’s other hand trying to grab for him.
“Give me your hand!” Don cried, trying to scoot himself closer to CJ’s flailing body. As their fingers touched, the fires erupting above them had finally grown too powerful, and old pressurized pipes began blowing out under the intense exposure, knocking Don’s former business partner into a tangled mass of pipes and jagged pieces of old, rusty metal. Officers rushed to try and catch him, but only a trickle of blood from under the pile of rubble marked CJ’s fate. Dustin Newton ran to Don’s aid, and the entrepreneur was able to be pulled to safety, just as the ceiling threatened to collapse around the survivors.
They all rushed to their vehicles as the last remaining pieces of the Illiopolis chemical facility caved in. CJ Coffman, even if he had survived the fall, was now assuredly no more.
*
Entering the cathedral of St. Charles Borromeo, Don sought the quiet closet of the confessional booths, and soon, a familiar voice was there to greet him. “What troubles you, my son?”
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” Don began. “I treated one of my friends poorly, and now I feel that I have lost him on such a bad note that I might not be able to salvage anything of the old friendships we shared, let alone the objects which he had stolen from me.”
“Don,” Father John said, “CJ’s death wasn’t your fault. It was his. He chose to do what he did, and you could have done no more for him than what you did. I saw the news.”
“But, Father ...”
“Please, call me ‘JJ.’ It makes me feel better.”
“JJ,” Don said, “would it be wrong for me not to attend the funeral?”
“No,” Father John said, “I think God would understand. Besides, I don’t think you’d be very welcome there, anyway.”
There was a long pause before Don spoke again. “All I really want to know is, why did he do it?”
Father John Janega nodded to himself, mulling over his words. “I don’t think you’ll know what happened unless you walk a mile in his shoes. See what CJ saw, and then you’ll know why he did it.”
Don thought long about this, and tapped the screen separating him from the pastor. “Thank you, JJ, Father John. I think I know what I have to do.”