Black Attack

By Greg Seippel

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• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 19, 2008
• ISBN: 9781469117133

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Copyright © 2008 by Greg Seippel.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Contents

1

THE BEGINNING

2

1978

1981

3

4

5

6

DEFINING ONES SELF

7

April 1991

8

9

10

February ’83

11

May ’84

12

June ’84

13

14

15

16

THE BAND

17

February ’84

18

19

August ’84

20

21

WORLD TOUR

22

BLACK ATTACK

23

24

25

26

November ’85

27

28

SNOW STORM

29

January ’86

30

31

32

May ’86

33

PAUL COMES HOME

34

35

36

May ’87

37

38

39

40

41

42

July ’87

43

44

45

46

47

48

March ’89

49

50

51

May ’89

52

53

June ’89

54

55

56

57

58

59

July ’89

60

61

62

63

64

Mid July ’89

65

66

A WHOLE NEW WAR

67

October 1989

68

May 1990

69

70

August 2, 1990

71

72

January 1, 1991

73

74

75

January 5, 1991

76

January 11, 1991

77

78

January 21, 1991

79

January 25, 1991

80

81

February 1, 1991

82

April 1992

83

84

85

REVENGE

86

STARTING OVER

87

Saturday-July 25, 1992

88

89

90

December 24, 1992

91

1993

92

93

94

95

96

97

98

LEIGH

99

100

101

LEIGH JOINS THE GROUP

THURSDAY DECEMBER 1, 1994

102

1995 BEGINS

103

104

THE REPORT

105

106

107

108

TAMPA

109

110

THE REST OF 1995

111

THE END OF THE CENTURY

112

2001

113

9-7-01

114

9-10-01

115

9-11-01

116

117

9-13-01

118

10-4-01 B.A.312

119

10-7-01

120

121

122

123

124

2002

125

2003

126

2004

127

2005

128

2005

129

2005

130

2005

131

132

2005-2006

1

THE BEGINNING

My name is Leigh Rowan and I’m here to tell you an incredible story that has all of the elements that make up a great mystery. It begins with one man that I have known virtually all of my life. He has always been my best friend even when things were at there lowest point in both our lives.

Paul Michael Roth was born into a very wealthy family. At least his parents were. He was born with a congenital heart defect. Blood flowed only from his heart to his lungs and back. At three days old doctors performed a transposition of the great arteries surgery. A mustard procedure it what they called it. They couldn’t repair everything so they did what they could, finishing it up when he was three years old. Pauls heart literally runs backwards. Pretty cool if you think about it. He had this done at a hospital in Kansas City.

When he was four his family moved to the northwest Atlanta suburbs. That’s where I met him in kindergarten class. By then he was living with his Aunt Lynne. She was his dads sister. She became his guardian when both of his parents were killed in a car wreck caused by a drunk driver.

From what I know and can remember his Aunt Lynne was married at the time and they had just adopted a two year old little girl that they named Tabitha. The two of them got along wonderfully. They had come together by completely different circumstances.

Lynne loved both of the children equally as if they were her own, which by all means they were. But her husband John resented Paul very much. He knew Paul had a hefty inheritance coming to him when he turned eighteen. There had been a clause in the will giving his aunt an annual allowance to help pay for Pauls up bringing. Paul never saw a dime of it go towards anything. John would get his greedy little hands on it and have it spent before Lynne had chance to use any of it.

I guess I truly remember everything about Pauls life from about the time he was thirteen. That’s when John disappeared.

It was Tabitha’s eleventh birthday and she was having a pool party. All of her friends were invited, that included me. It was about the time she began to open her gifts when John came home from being gone all day. He was drunk as could be and began yelling at Lynne to get rid of all the fucking little brats before he started throwing them out himself. She was able to calm him down enough that we finished the party. I still say to this day all he did was pass out.

Later that night we could hear yelling and things being broken coming from inside their house. Now I lived four houses away and was sitting in my front yard, that’s how loud they were. All of a sudden there was a loud crash and the entire neighborhood heard John scream. Then it was over as fast as it had begun. There was dead silence. Not one person who had come out to hopefully see something said a word. They all just went back into their own homes after it had been quiet for a few minutes.

I distinctly remember asking Paul the next day what had happened and he acted like I didn’t know what I was talking about. He specifically said that they had had a nice quiet evening at home. But from that day on, till this very moment, no one has ever seen John Sikes again. There wasn’t one single piece of evidence that suggested John Sikes ever lived at the residence. No pictures, clothing, car, or even a toothbrush were there. Lynne apparently had told the police that yes there had been a big fight and that he packed his things and left for good. But for all of us that lived near the cull de sac of Lacy Court knows better.

Now as I said before, Paul said it was a quiet evening knowing that I knew better than that. For all of the things we heard being broken we knew that Paul had to be kicking the shit out of John. He had finally stood up to him like he said he would one day, after all the years of abuse from Johns hands. Paul had been taking three different types of martial arts since he was eight. He was a black belt in all of them by the time he turned twelve. One of the disciplines, I forget the name of it, made him extremely gifted with the use of swords, knives and other deadly weapons.

There was never any evidence of fowl play or blood found anywhere in or outside of the house, but as I said it got real quiet real fast.

2

1978

It was at the age of twelve when Paul took up playing the guitar. He was a natural at it from the start. He could hear a song on the radio once and have it memorized note for note within thirty minutes. Writing music came to him just as easily. He was a genius when it came to music.

He formed a band with three of his best friends when they were in eighth grade. By the time they were sophomores in high school they were already playing night clubs and parties all over town. They were great to watch and it was at the time when all the heavy metal bands from Los Angeles started hitting the scene. So in turn they called themselves L.A., secretly it stood for loud always but they only used the initials. More affect that way.

1981

It was at this time though when I noticed a slight change in Pauls attitude and demeanor towards certain things. I found it odd that he always had to be home at eleven when we went out. Except for the nights that the band was playing.

Finally one night after he dropped me off at home I followed him back to his house without him noticing. And that’s when I saw it for the first time.

After waiting and watching for an hour someone finally emerged from the house. They came from the back yard dressed completely in black. I couldn’t even make out a face but I was certain that it was Paul.

I spent the next hour and a half following as close as I dared without being seen. It was definitely Paul and he was looking for something.

Just before we made our way back home he stopped in front of a store but kept hidden from view. A couple of guys were harassing a young girl. Every time she tried to get away they would throw her back up against the side of the store. Finally one of them hit her with a full punch in the side of the head.

That’s when I saw Paul sneak up behind them. He tapped the one who hit the girl on the shoulder than laid him out with one shot when the guy turned around. The other guy immediately tried to start throwing punches but missed with every one of them. Paul caught the guys right forearm, spun him around half way while keeping the arm straight. In one quick move he broke the dudes arm then knocked him out.

He said something to the girl and she ran off. From out of no where he produced a rope and tied the two guys up before disappearing himself.

I didn’t know what to make of it. All the way home I tried to reason with myself what had happened. Not finding any answers I knew I had to confront Paul about it tomorrow.

3

I got up early even though it was Saturday. I had to find out what the deal was about last night. First I had to figure out how to approach the situation considering Paul didn’t know I had followed him. That would be the toughest part, explaining why I did it. He was going to be super pissed but I had to do it.

I was at his house at ten-thirty. Scared to death of how he was going to react. He had just gotten up and was eating Doritos for breakfast.

So you want to take a ride with me?

Where to?

I don’t know. Maybe up to the mountains.

Sure what the hell. There’s nothing to do around here. No gig tonight anyway. Let me get a shirt on.

Ten minutes later we were headed towards I-575 and the north Georgia mountains. We both stayed silent for awhile. I was trying to figure out how to start the conversation. Finally Paul told me to pull into a convenient store so we could get some snacks and a Dr. Pepper before hitting the hiway.

Once we were on the road I waited about ten minutes before I started confronting him with what I wanted to know.

Can I ask you some personal questions without you getting mad?

You can ask but I can’t guarantee that I won’t get mad. If you think I’m going to get mad then why ask the questions?

Because there’s something I have to know.

Ask if you must. Obviously it’s pretty important if you drug me out here and you just have to know.

Where did you go after you took me home last night?

I went home. That alright? He was already irritated.

Did you stay home?

What the fucks that matter?

It matters a lot to me. Now did you stay home or not?

Why don’t you fucking tell me Leigh. Obviously you know something or think that you do. So just come out and say it.

Fine then! Lately I’ve been noticing how you always want to be home early no matter what any of us are doing. Except nights when the bands playing. So last night I followed you to your house and waited until you left again. But you were on foot, not in your car. I saw what you did to those two guys. The ones slappin’ around the girl. So tell me straight up, what the fuck was that all about? Do ya’ think you’re some kind of Billy bad ass?

So that’s what all of this is about. It’s something you wouldn’t understand and don’t need to be involved with.

Why don’t you try me and see. I’ll be the judge if I don’t need to be involved.

No Leigh you won’t. We’re not going out or anything and I don’t have to account for my where bouts to you. Got it!

You’re oh so right about us not going out Paul! One, you couldn’t handle me. Two, I’m smarter than anything you’ve ever dated. And three, I know you better than any girl ever will.

Fuck this! Just take me back home. So I did.

4

For the next month Paul and I didn’t speak. He had gotten that pissed at me. But you know I didn’t care. I didn’t find out exactly what I wanted to know. But he did confirm that it was him that I saw.

During the time that we weren’t speaking to one another I happened to notice a couple of news reports about someone coming to the aide of others as they were being victimized in criminal acts such as a mugging and an attempted rape.

The night before Paul began talking to me again there was another report. This time a convenient store robbery had been stopped and the robber was found tied up to a light post in the parking lot unconscious and a black business card stuffed in his pocket.

Police said that this was the fifth crime stopped in as many days and that they had no other leads except the cards left at the scenes attached to the perpetrators in one form or another.

It was about five o’clock that Saturday afternoon when Paul called and asked if I’d like to go out and clear things up between us. I was hesitant at first but finally gave in after hearing him beg and apologize for getting so upset. I told him to be at my house no later than seven and he better be ready to explain everything.

5

Paul was prompt as usual. One good thing I can say about him is he’s punctual when it comes to time. He held open the car door for me and helped me in. Was he feeling this guilty that he had to be a gentleman all of a sudden with me. He’d never done this before.

As we left he asked me if there was anywhere in particular where I wanted to go. I told him no, just somewhere quiet so we could be alone and talk. He said no problem as we pulled out of the driveway and headed west.

All the way to our destination we made small talk. The usual how have you been and anything else new, and my favorite how did you do on that blah blah test in so an so’s class. After twenty minutes or so we pulled into the parking lot of an old drive-in movie theater. Paul parked the car then got out with a six pack of beer in his hand. I followed and we sat on the hood of his ’65 Mustang. Baby blue in color.

Look I’m really really sorry for blowing up at ya’ like I did. I just didn’t expect you to start asking me questions about it so soon after following me.

You knew I was following you?

I know everything around me when I’m out like that. I’m so totally aware of any and everything that it’s like a sixth sense or something. I saw from the moment I left the back yard.

Why didn’t you come say anything.

I was in my zone and I don’t break that for anything.

So what exactly are you doing? I mean from what I saw all you’re doing is beating people up.

That’s not it at all. He hesitated for a couple of minutes. "Okay here it is, straight up. I’m going out looking for people who are in trouble. People who are in the middle of being victimized. I wear the black outfit so no one will recognize me. So far it’s worked pretty good. I make it a point not to leave any traces that I’d been there or stopped the crime. Except for the victims account and the perps. I do leave a calling card though to say that one person is doing all of this.

It’s something I started doing right after John left. I swore that I’d help everybody I could from becoming a victim like Aunt Lynne was.

So why are you telling me this now?

One you asked and I got over being mad. You’re my best friend and I can’t keep things from you. Two I wanted to know how you felt about what I do. Do you approve of it or do you hate me for?

No I don’t hate you for it. It’s commendable. I just don’t want to see you get hurt.

How would you like to work with me than doing it?

You’re kidding right?

No, why would I do that? This is serious business. I think you’d be great at it. You’re the same level black belt that I am so there’s less of a chance of you getting hurt. Paul wasn’t smiling so I knew he was dead serious about it.

Well I can see by that look you mean what you say. If I do this what all will I need?

A black outfit for starters. It has to be skin tight yet flexible, you gotta’ have room to move. Then I guess I need to take you out and train you in what we do and how to do it.

Okay let’s do it. But tell me something first. Do you have any other feelings for me other than being a friend?

Of course I do. I fight with myself every day to keep my hands off of ya’. If I could I’d put ya’ in the back seat right now and fuck your brains out. But you’re my best friend and I can’t take a chance of loosing that.

Thank you. I’ve needed to hear that for a long time. I always got the feeling that you looked right through me instead of at me. I started biting my lower lip with a smile on my face as I stared into his beautiful blue eyes. Believe me you wouldn’t loose me as a friend. I’ve always wanted you too bad as well.

6

DEFINING ONES SELF

Pauls band was doing really good during our last two years of high school. They had even recorded a couple of albums on their own label, Loud Records. During our senior year they began on a third album which looked like it was going to put them into the mainstream of music. The metal sound was raw and intense with a lot of power chords. Pauls sister Tabitha had become their manager and was doing a great job at it. She had a thing for business as did Paul.

Paul and I had a lot of success with our late night adventures. We had never been caught and the police still had no clue who we were. We even named ourselves The Black Attack since we only worked at night.

When graduation came around Paul suddenly became outwardly depressed. He was down on the fact that I was going away to school and he wasn’t. Not that he couldn’t have because he got plenty of offers considering he was class valedictorian and an accomplished musician. Matter of fact he had scholarships from some of the best schools in the world. But he was more determined to make it as a rock star. I was headed for Harvard to study law. I had ranked second in our class. I was going to miss our adventures but my education was far more important. I don’t know why he was taking it so hard though. It wasn’t like we were a couple or anything. Just two good friends who tried to save the world a bit every so often.

For the next four and a half years I poured myself into my studies. I rarely took a break at all, even going to school during the summer had become my routine. I only flew home once the entire time that I was gone. That was Christmas of ’86. I didn’t even see Paul because he was out on tour. I did see him one time when the band came to Boston for a two night performance. They obviously were doing very well. I never knew at that time just how well they were doing. I was so involved with school that I didn’t keep up with what was the new and hot trends.

I graduated from Harvard number one in my class with a degree in criminal law. On a job recruitment day I applied to the FBI just for the hell of it. I figured what would it hurt. If I got in great but I was hoping to secure a job as a prosecutor back home. To my amazement I was accepted and immediately put into training. I got all of the basic stuff with ease. After that they started training me for a specialty. Even though I had a law degree my forte became behavioral analysis. For some reason I could read people like a book. It didn’t matter if I was looking at them, talking to them over a phone or just reading basic police reports. I could pick out a psycho path in a heart beat. I could tell you if your sweet twelve year old baby sitter was or would become a killer just by watching how they interacted with other people. It was a gift that I would eventually regret having one day.

I was six years into my career when it happened. I had become one of the most celebrated agents there was due to all of the captures I helped make possible. Also from all of the information I either figured out or got out of the captors themselves.

Then there was the case of Melvin P. Jones. Melvin was a highly respected man by all of those who knew him. There was never a bad word said. Church goer, golf club member, investment banker for a large company outside of Tulsa. No record of any kind, not even a warning for speeding. But there was something about Melvin that no one saw except me after I had looked over some evidence in a serial murder case.

To the police all of their evidence told them that the murders were done by a cold ruthless killer. Maybe a transient. But what I saw showed a killer who was precise in his work. He knew exactly where he wanted to make all of the stab wounds. To the untrained eye the killings looked brutal. But in actuality each mark was centered in areas that would not immediately kill a person. Even four or five wounds probably would not have caused death.

I became involved with the case after the fourth girl had been found just like the others, propped up along side a dirt road that led to an old abandoned farm. All of the victims were teenagers, went to the same high school and lived within a three mile radius of one another. As well as Melvin P. Jones. Upon examining the last victim, Mary Crier, I took special notice to the stab wounds themselves. There were no ragged edges. The coroner attributed it to be a smooth blade knife. Each wound was precisely five inches deep and very narrow in their width. There was no cutting with the wounds either. A perfectly clean entrance and removal of each mark. There were twenty five stab wounds on Mary that I counted and not one of the them ever hit a vital organ. All of the other girls were in the exact same condition as Mary. The same amount of wounds in the exact same places. To top it off none of them had been sexually assaulted.

We began by questioning all of the neighbors that lived within a block of Mary. That’s when I found Melvin, living four houses away. Melvin was out watering his lawn as I approached. It was late April and he had just put down fresh seed.

Excuse me sir can I ask you a few questions about the girl who used to live over there? I pointed towards the house where Mary had lived.

You mean Mary! Damn shame that some one would do that to such a sweet girl. Heard it on the news last night. What’s your name again?

I never gave it. I showed him my badge. Special agent Rowan, FBI. So you knew Mary Crier. Anything in particular you can tell us about her?

Not really, just that she seemed to be a good kid. Kept her nose clean if you know what I mean. Baby sat for us a few times.

Was she a good sitter?

Yeah real good I guess. My son Michael liked her. Any time she saw him outside she always made it a point to come say hello to him.

How old is your son?

Four.

You ever see anything unusual at her home? Anybody hanging around that shouldn’t be late at night or early in the morning?

None that I ever noticed.?

How about her friends?

I don’t really know about that Ms. Rowan. Now if you’ll excuse me I need to get back to work here. I noticed he was becoming more agitated with each question. As he was answering the last one I noticed that his eyes were drifting past me as if he was looking at something behind me. When I turned there was nothing there.

Is your wife home? I’d like to speak to her as well, she might know something.

No. She’s out shopping with her sister and no I don’t know when she’ll be home. Now good day miss. I thanked him for his time but felt like I had just been dismissed like some child.

I had a hunch when I got back to the police station and I asked them to follow it up. Since all of the girls lived close by and went to the same school I had to know if any of the others had ever baby sat for the Jones. It was a long shot but it was a start. I also wanted a patrol car to make rounds down their street, keeping an eye out for anything peculiar coming from or around the Joneses home, especially dealing with Melvin. It would only be natural that patrols would go down the street even if it was a cull de sac. Mary had lived on that street and the house was a partial crime scene.

7

April 1991

The hunch paid off. All of the girls had baby sat for the Jones at one time or another in the last two years. With that in hand I made my profile presentation to the local police. A couple of them didn’t even believe that Melvin Jones was capable of doing this. I pointed