In the evening, John heard a knock on the door. It was Morgan.
"Evening, Morgan, I was just making coffee. Want some?"
"No, thanks. I came here because I got this in the mail." He gave a FedEx envelope to John.
John took a look, "It's addressed to you. Why are you giving me this?"
"Look inside, John!"
John opened the envelope and retrieved a smaller envelope from inside. It was addressed to John. "This is weird. This was delivered to you at the FBI Office. It has a sender name and address, but I guess they're bogus."
"I didn't open the other envelope or take it to you because the person who sent this maybe sent it to me to avoid unnecessary attention being drawn to any of you two."
"You did well, Morgan. Let's see what this is all about!" John opened the letter and found a folded typed carbon copy sheet."
"This is old-school CIA!" Morgan exclaimed, "This must be related to the beheaded woman case."
"Maybe, but the sender surely made it hard for any new technology to read this without opening the envelope. Come, help me see what it says." John went to the living room. He put the carbon copy sheet on a lampshade.
He turned the lamp on and read the note: YOU ARE IN DANGER. DON'T TALK TO ANYONE. GO ALONE TO ARLINGTON CEMETERY. JFK'S GRAVE. 5:30 AM. TOMORROW. CHECK YOUR VEHICLE FOR TRACKERS AND BUGS.
"Wow, John. Maybe it's a trap. You should be careful."
"I don't think so. If they wanted me dead, they'd kill me in my sleep. If somebody took all this trouble, they want to talk."
"Be careful, John. Call me as soon as you get to the FBI. I want to know you are safe."
John thanked him and both men said goodbye. John wanted to work on the Austin serial killer case, but this letter couldn't let him concentrate. It couldn't be from Chief Washington because they would meet on Saturday. Maybe, some of the retired agents he met earlier that day wanted to tell him something related to the beheaded woman. He tossed and turned in bed all night.
He got up at 4:30 in the morning, had coffee, and went to the garage to check his car for truckers and bugs as the note said. He thought it was a bit paranoid but he did it anyway. If this was related to the beheaded woman case, he could never be too careful. Too many people were already dead. Thank God, John was a trained Special Task Forces and also did some intelligence in his army years. It wasn't hard for John to find a tracker. He couldn't find any bugs.
He sat behind the wheel with the tracker in his hand. If he took it away from the car, the person who put it there would know. But he couldn't allow them to follow him. He put the tracker back where he had found it. He left his phone in the car and a note to Morgan on the windshield: I AM TAKING THE BIKE. I WILL COME BACK FOR THE CAR AND DUKE BEFORE GOING TO WORK. SEE YOU THERE. JOHN.
He went back upstairs, took his helmet and leather jacket, left Duke in the garden, and drove away in his Harley Davidson Fat Boy.
He arrived at Arlington National Cemetery at 5:15 AM. He went to JFK's grave and waited. He looked in every direction to find a spot where he could be safe from snipers. There weren't many places to keep hidden. He sat on the floor with his back against some short bushed close to the grave. At 5:30 AM sharp an arrow flew right over his head and got stuck on the grass in between the stones that surround JFK's grave.
He heard the motor of a sports motorbike getting away at full speed from the site where the arrow was shot. It was useless following it. His Harley wasn't as fast as that sport motorbike. If he wasn't wrong it looked like a Ducati Superleggera V4. John loved motorbikes. He knew that bike.
He picked up the arrow. There was a note attached. He unrolled it. It read: 1400 QUINCY ST NE, DC. FRANCISCAN CEMETERY BACK OF CRUCIFIXION STATUE LOOSE STONE. FILE INSIDE. GOOD LUCK. BE CAREFUL NOT TO BE FOLLOWED. TRUST NOONE.
John took the arrow and the note and went from Arlington to the Franciscan cemetery. Once he left Arlington he drove as fast as he could. He paid particular attention to his rearview mirrors, to see if anybody was tailing him. Thanks to his undercover work he was used to keeping watch on his back. For him, it was as natural as breathing.
Nobody was following him. They must think he was still at home. When he was getting closer to the Franciscan Cemetery he lowered the speed. He didn't want to call the attention of anyone.