Free Deceitful Moon by Rick Murcer

confid e nt smile spread over his chiseled face . They would never put it together. He was going to sail out of St. Thomas, free as a bird, and move forward with the end game he’d so meticulously put together over the last three months. Too bad. He would have preferred the other contingency. Plan A would’ve been ideal.
    So this is the best law enforcement available? No wonder the country was going to hell in a handbasket. But then again, who was like him?
    He stretched to his full six-foot - four frame, ogled the mirror , and marveled at his physi que . Gods had to look the part, too, and he certainly had accomplished that. There was no match mentally, and he could hold his own with anyone physically. God was a good word.
    After one last look, Argyle moved back to the bed, finished unpacking , and then moved to the balcony facing the h arbor and Charlotte-Amalie. The waxing moon appeared to be almost full , sending glittering moonbeams off the ocean . It was b eautiful by any standard. Yet, dichotom ies like th e deceitful moon existed everywhere. S hining beauty hid the dark, cold, unseen, and even deadly persona that everyone possessed . He was just more honest than most. More real. More god - like.
    But he did recognize beauty when he saw it. The misconception that men like him were incapable of such appreciations was not entirely true. Most of the social interaction was an act , a lesson in mimicry. But appreciation wears many faces , and he did enjoy the island qualities; it seemed to enhance his fairly new journey from prison drudgery to absolute liberty.
    He felt the blood rush thro ugh his body. He could do anything he wanted. The lack of inhibition, of any dictated moral compass , allowed it. Freedom. The very word resonated truth. So what if there was collateral damage ? A small price to pay to see his genius manifested.
    Shifting his feet, he frowned. Men like Manny Williams failed to understand , but he would do his best to help with the detective’s education, and soon. After that, when he was through with Williams, his family, and the rest of the Lansing idiot s , he’d make an unexpected visit to an FBI agent or two. The attractive Chloe Franson could be an endeavor worthy of his attention.
    Worthy indeed.
    Then he would dedicate himself to a more far - reaching purpose, one worthy of his vast abilities. His disdain for politicians in general could be cultivated to include some serious accountability for the corrupt, the crooked. Maybe a face-to-face with the President could be arranged. What about getting an audience with Billy Graham or even the Pope? The things they could “discuss . ” But who knew for sure? The world was his oyster , and there was no one to stop him. Life was good , his life .
    Argyle strolled in from the balcony and removed his shirt , turn ed out the lights, and spread out on the bed.
    His overloaded mind began to unwind just as the knock came to his door. Ah. It was time .
    He sat up, realizing instantly that someone had figured out his location . . . and that Manny Williams couldn’t be in two places at the same time. He smiled.
    Let’s see how good they really are .
    He slipped on his shirt , grabbed his bag, took one last look around the room , and went to the verandah door. He would simpl y swing down or over to another balcony and make his escape that way. They really were dense to think he didn’t have this part of the game planned. He’d give Williams kudos the next time they met. No one else would have gotten this far.
    He slid the glass door open , and stepped directly into the barrel of a Glock . 40. Two more weapons pressed against the side of his head and chest.
    “Good evening Dr. Argyle, you have no idea how nice it is to see you again ,” taunted Manny .

Chapter -20
     
    Three thirty a.m. never felt so good. Manny watched as Argyle, surrounded by armed and ready local officers, was folded into the backseat of a small police cruiser. As the taillights of the