by CW Browning
“Hey, you got a minute?” John asked.
“For you? Not really,” Alina replied, raising her scope to her eye and studying the white screen. John appeared from around the screen, walking away with his phone against his ear. “But talk.”
“We just got word Lowell Kwan never went home last night,” John told her. “He was last seen heading into the Pine Barrens. You know anything about that?”
Alina shifted the scope from John's profile to the group of local police officers standing in a group near the Warden's House, well out of the way of the hubbub.
“Possibly,” she murmured. She turned her head to watch as the ME van turned down the side street next to the prison and stopped near the curb.
“Let me put it this way, Lina,” John said, a note of steel threading into his voice. “Tell me what happened last night or I'll charge you with impeding a federal investigation.”
“How ambitious of you!” Viper retorted. “Did you put an extra shot of espresso in your coffee?”
“Lina!”
Alina chuckled and watched as the ME and his assistant got out of the van.
“Kwan came after Angela,” she relented. “He showed up in my security perimeter around 2100 hours. Michael and Damon went out, intercepted him, and Damon convinced him he was better off leaving Angela alone.”
“Then what?” John asked after a brief silence.
“Nothing.” Viper lowered the scope and pursed her lips thoughtfully as she watched the activity across the road.
“Nothing?” John sounded incredulous. “He just left and you went about your business?”
“For the most part,” Alina agreed. “You say he didn't go home?”
“No.”
Alina paused for a long moment, then her lips twitched.
“Are you telling me you guys lost another witness?” she asked in amusement.
“I wouldn't get too cocky,” John snapped. “You're the last one to see him, so that makes you a witness now.”
“Hmm.” Alina grinned. “I guess I better be careful. I might disappear.”
“Keep it up and I'll take care of it myself!” John threatened.
Alina burst out laughing.
“Don't get your panties all in a bunch, John,” she advised, still chuckling. “Go finish your coffee and tell Stephanie I still have the tracking dot on his car. I'll find him for you.”
“We don't need you to find anything for us,” John informed her.
“Oh really? Are you sure? Because you don't seem to be having much luck finding your witnesses while they're still alive.”
John was silent, speechless either from chagrin or anger.
“Good. Now that's settled, I have things to do,” Alina said. “I'll be in touch with Stephanie as soon as I get his location.”
Viper disconnected the call and slipped the phone back into her cargo pocket. Glancing at her watch, she got up and moved toward the fire escape at the back of the roof. She dropped her scope into her pocket, swung onto the ladder and disappeared over the edge of the roof.
John put his phone away and turned to go back to Stephanie with a scowl. Larry and his assistant were walking up to the screen as he approached and he watched as Stephanie turned to greet Larry, her phone in her hand. She waved Larry behind the screen and turned to meet John, her expression grim.
“Blake just called. Ramiero Losa turned up,” she told him.
“Ramiero Losa of the cigarette butt in yonder maze?” John asked.
“Yep.”
“That's good news!” John said. “Where is he?”
“In Mt. Laurel, with a bullet in his skull,” Stephanie replied, turning to walk toward the Warden's House.
“Not good news,” John sighed. “Where?”
“Oh, that's the fun part,” Stephanie told him. “Next to a lake behind the IT building of One District Bank.”
John stared at her.
“Where Kwan works?”
Stephanie nodded.
“Did you get hold of Lina?” she asked, glancing at him.
“Yes. Kwan went after Angela last night,” John said.
Stephanie stopped walking and looked at him.
“Well?”
“She says Michael and Damon intercepted him and convinced him to leave Angie alone, then he left,” John told her. “She said to tell you she still has his car tagged and she'll let you know when she has a location on him.”
“Well, that's something at least,” Stephanie muttered and started to move again. “We know he wasn't running last night. Whether or not he is now, after his run-in with them, is another question. Let's get the BOLO out anyway, just in case. I don't like that he's the last one standing at this point. I'll head over to Mt. Laurel and see what the story is with Ramiero while you stay here and supervise this mess. When Larry's done here, tell him to get over to Mt. Laurel. I'm sure he already got the page.”
“You got it.” John nodded and turned to head back toward the white screen.
Stephanie rounded the corner of the Warden's House and strode toward the small parking lot behind it. With everyone turning up dead, Lowell was her last chance to salvage this case. If she lost him, she lost all hope of finding the virus.
She had to find Lowell Kwan before he turned up dead as well.
The scar on Jenaro's face paled against his dark skin as he stared at Turi.
“Are you sure?” he demanded.
Turi nodded solemnly.
“His body was found at a marina yesterday afternoon,” he said. “He was shot in the head.”
Jenaro swung around and strode to the window of the living room.
“Have you heard from Ramiero yet?”
“Nothing.”
Jenaro turned his attention to the street below, his jaw twitching. Turi waited silently, loathe to say out loud what both men were thinking. When the messenger came to him last night with the news of Lorenzo's death, Turi postponed telling Jenaro, hoping there had been some kind of mistake. When he saw the papers this morning, he knew there was no mistake.
“Find Ramiero and get him back here.” Jenaro finally spoke, his back still to Turi. “It must be the Hawk. He's the only one stupid enough to do this thing.”
Turi nodded and turned toward the door.
“Turi?” Jenaro turned his head and glanced at him. “Get everyone ready to travel. We leave tomorrow.”
“What about the boy?” Turi asked with his hand on the door handle.
“We take him,” Jenaro said shortly, turning his attention back out the window. “I have a buyer willing to pay more than I expected for a seven-year old boy.”
Turi nodded and disappeared out the door, closing it softly behind him.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Stephanie got out of her car and looked around. A parking lot ran behind the IT building, running the length of the long structure. Behind it, a stretch of grass led to a heavily wooded area. Blake's SUV was parked on the grass, pulled up near a break in a row of trees, and Stephanie started towards it. A uniformed police officer came toward her, holding out his hand to stop her, and she showed him her badge tiredly.
“Right through there, Agent Walker,” he said, nodding to the break in the trees.
Stephanie nodded and continued across the grass. She could see the glint of water through the trees, and a couple of geese honked as they glided overhead. Stepping past the trees, she saw a small lake nestled in the middle of the wooded area. The morning sunlight filtered through the branches and shone brightly across the water, dappling the mossy grass beside the lake with speckled bands of light. It would have been a picturesque setting had it not been for the flurry of activity taking place to the left side of the lake, near a dense copse of thickets.
Blake looked over from where he crouched beside a figure on the ground and waved her forward.
“Busy morning!” he called, standing up as she approached. “I heard you found Chou.”
“Yes. He's hanging from a tree outsid
e the Prison,” Stephanie told him, looking down at the body stretched out on the ground. “Larry will be along as soon as he's finished there.”
“Meet Ramiero Losa, formerly of the Casa Reino Cartel,” Blake told her.
“He wasn't in the water, I see,” Stephanie murmured.
“No. Some employees found him in the thicket while they were having a cigarette,” Blake said. “They pulled him out, thinking he was just passed out, but then realized he wasn't breathing.”
“Any of them ever see him before?” Stephanie asked, glancing at Blake.
He shook his head.
“No.” Blake crouched down and turned the dead man's head so she could see the small hole near the temple. “Your ME will confirm, but it looks like the same size hole as Lorenzo.”
“Poor Larry.” Stephanie pulled on gloves and crouched down on the other side of Ramiero. “I don't think he's finished with Lorenzo yet, and now he has two more.”
“He hasn't. I already talked to him,” Blake told her. “All he could tell me was it was .22mm shell.”
Stephanie nodded and studied Ramiero. The small hole near his temple barely marred the side of his head, with only a thin line of dried blood coming from the wound.
“That would explain the small entry wounds,” she murmured.
“Nasty things, .22s. They bounce around inside the skull like a pinball,” Blake agreed. “Other than the hole in his head, there doesn't seem to be any sign of struggle.”
“You think he knew his attacker?” Stephanie glanced at him sharply.
Blake shrugged.
“Don't go putting words in my mouth,” he replied with a grin. “All I'm saying is there doesn't appear to have been a struggle. That could mean he was taken by surprise, knew the attacker, or just plain didn't expect to get shot.”
“Fair enough,” Stephanie agreed and turned her attention back to the body. “Are you still standing by your statement that this isn't Gomez?”
“I think so,” Blake said thoughtfully. “There's no reason for Jenaro to be killing off his crew, especially so far from home.”
“Who else would know where they were? Or even who they were?” Stephanie murmured more to herself than to him. Blake answered her anyway.
“Well, that's the big question,” he said. “If we knew the answer to it, we'd have a good idea who wants them dead.”
“Aside from half of Mexico, you mean?” Stephanie stood up and looked around the isolated lake. “What was he doing here?”
“Now, that I think I can answer,” Blake said, standing up and motioning her away from the body. Stephanie followed him a few feet away from the techs and police officers. “One of the guys who found Ramiero said he was pulling into work early this morning when he saw a man coming out from the trees.”
“Did he now?”
“Yes. Now, he says the man came out further down there, toward the other end of the building.” Blake pointed in the opposite direction. “Apparently, this is a fairly common area for hunting and the employees here do occasionally see hunters and fishermen early or late in the day. He didn't think anything of it until they found the body a few hours later.”
“Where is he?” Stephanie asked.
Blake nodded to the police officer on the other side of the trees.
“The officer out there has him waiting for us,” Blake told her.
Stephanie nodded and glanced back to Ramiero.
“You ok here while I go see if I can get a description?” she asked.
Blake nodded and turned back to the body.
“Absolutely.”
John watched as Larry drove away, Philip Chou's body in the back of the van, before he turned to head towards his motorcycle. Two techs were finishing up with the pictures, and he had all the evidence bags in their SUV, ready to go back to Matt. He glanced at his watch and sighed. It was almost ten. Another morning spent at this prison. John glanced up at the dark building and scowled. If he never saw the place again, it would be too soon.
He brought his gaze back down and glanced at a policewoman heading towards him. She was dressed in uniform, a standard issue on her hip, and her hair pulled back into a ponytail at the back of her head. Large sunglasses shaded her eyes from the bright morning sunlight and an FOP baseball cap cast shadows across her face. Smiling at him cheerfully, she headed toward the two officers at the front steps of the prison. He nodded back as he passed, reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone when it started to ring.
“Yo,” he answered, walking up to his motorcycle.
“Are you almost finished there?” Stephanie asked.
“Just finishing now,” John said. “Larry is on his way over there. He said to tell you Ramiero will take up his last open table, so if any more show up, you'll have to call the city ME.”
“Ha!” Stephanie chuckled. “He should be so lucky. Did you find anything interesting after I left?”
“Not a thing.” John got on the bike. “What's the story over there?”
“Ramiero was shot in the head with what looks like the same type of weapon used on Lorenzo,” Stephanie told him. “Larry told Blake it's a .22.”
“That explains the small entry wound,” John said thoughtfully, unconsciously echoing her words. “Any leads?”
“Glad you asked,” Stephanie replied. “As a matter of fact, yes. Lowell Kwan was seen leaving the area around six-thirty this morning.”
“What?!” John exclaimed.
“I thought you'd like that,” Stephanie said with a slight chuckle. “A witness described him and when I showed him his picture, he confirmed it. As a matter of fact, as soon as I showed him the picture, he recognized him as the “crazy smart analyst” who works on the other end of the building.”
“He didn't recognize him when he saw him this morning?” John asked.
“Apparently, it was still somewhat dark and Kwan looked a mess. The witness thought he was a hunter. He was covered in leaves and brush and was favoring his right hand.” Stephanie stifled a yawn. “So, as of six-thirty this morning, Kwan was here.”
“You think he's the one knocking out Jenaro's guys?” John asked with a frown.
“I don't know,” Stephanie answered. “Why don't you head over here and bring coffee and bagels with you? I'm starving and running low on caffeine.”
“On my way,” John agreed and disconnected.
The policewoman glanced back briefly at John's retreating back before approaching the two officers at the front of the prison. She nodded to the senior officer.
“Agent Smithe wants me to check inside once more,” she told him, placing one foot on the bottom step.
“Again?” he asked, rolling his eyes. “I think the Feds are getting a little paranoid.”
“Tell me about it,” she agreed with a grin. “I heard they think a ghost is doing all this.”
“Wouldn't be surprised,” he chuckled. “Karl was busy filling their heads with ghost stories their first day here.”
“Hey, are you the rookie from Mt. Laurel?” the other officer asked, putting a hand on her arm as she started up the steps. She glanced at him.
“Yeah. Sandy Whitaker,” she replied, holding out her hand.
“Joey Miller,” he introduced himself. “And that's Donnie. Welcome to Prison.”
She pulled her hand away and chuckled.
“Thanks, I think,” she murmured. She glanced back to the motorcycle, where John had his phone pressed against his ear. “I better get in there. He looks like he's watching me.”
“If you need anything, give a yell,” Joey told her, watching her as she continued up the steps. He caught Donnie's grin and grinned back. “What?”
“Hitting on the rookie already?” Donnie demanded as she disappeared inside the prison. “She just got here!”
“So what?” Joey shrugged. “Did you see the rack on her?”
“Yeah, I saw,” Donnie retorted. “I also saw the way she carries herself. Do yourself a favor and don't piss her off.�
��
“What can I say? I like it rough.”
Viper slipped silently down the steps to the basement of the prison in her stolen uniform. She shook her head over how easily she had walked into the prison, then grinned. John had looked right at her and not recognized her. People only ever saw what they expected to see, and that one simple fact never failed to amaze her. John expected to see a stranger, and a stranger was what he saw.
The chill in the basement of the old prison crept into her bones and made her muscles ache for the warmth of sunshine. Viper paused at the bottom of the steps for a moment and looked down the long, narrow corridor. It was empty and the silence seemed oppressive. A chill snaked down her spine and her lips tightened as the hair on the back of her neck rose. Reaching out her gloved hand, she rested it on the stone wall lightly. The cold from the stone seeped through her black gloves and the chill spread down her arm.
“Whatever you are,” Alina murmured, her voice a mere breath, “I'm not here for you.”
The cold increased and Viper slowly pulled her hand away from the wall, trying to ignore it. The track lighting in the corridor shone brightly, casting a yellow glow over the old curved walls with their crumbling whitewash, and she sent another glance down the long hallway, searching for shadows. There was nothing, but all her senses were screaming that she was not alone.
Turning, Viper slipped around the corner and opened a storage closet, glancing inside. Boxes and tubs filled the small space, labeled neatly on the outside in black marker. There was no room for anyone to fit in the closet with the containers, so Alina silently closed the door and moved on to the next room. She quickly went through every room and closet at this end of the basement, ever conscious of the cold following her. When she finished, Alina faced the long corridor again with a sigh.
She began to move down the main corridor, glancing into the museum rooms along the way. The basement housed the kitchens and tooling rooms for the prison, and she scanned each room cursorily. What she searched for would not be found in the public display rooms of the prison, and her searching glances were focused on windows and doors, not the artifacts themselves. She moved down the hall quickly until she reached the last room in the corridor. Larger than the others, it boasted a huge fireplace and a fairly large window at ground level.
