Dangerous & Deadly- The Nick Myers Series

by Tanya R. Taylor

  “Detective Nick Myers?” went the voice on the other line.”

  Nick didn’t recognize the voice. “Yes. Who’s this?”

  He heard her sigh.

  “I’m so glad I reached you,” she said. “Were you the detective working the investigation into the Prime Minister’s death?”

  She had his full attention and he immediately sat up. “I’m one of the detectives.”

  “I don’t want to speak to anyone else – just you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Can you meet with me tonight?” she asked. “I have something very important to tell you and I must do so in secrecy.”

  “Sure. Just tell me where.” He reached over and switched on the lamp.

  “I know you’re not from here, so you won’t have far to come. It’s a short walk.”

  “Okay. I’m listening.”

  “Take a left from your hotel and walk the sidewalk about three hundred yards down, then make a left down Main Street. You’ll see the sign. Two corners down on the same side of the road is a short tunnel. You can’t miss it. I’ll meet you there. Hurry! Come now.”

  Nick would have been naive if he didn’t consider for a moment that the whole thing might be a set up, but the question would be Why? What would be the reason for it? Besides, he heard what sounded like desperation in the woman’s voice; like she’d been traumatized by something. There was no mistake about it. Either she was a great actress or something was truly troubling her. Being the detective he was, he was going to take a chance. He knew every day he wore his badge working for the LAPD, he was taking a risk – that each day there was no guarantee when he left home that he’d return. A cop was a cop whether in his hometown or a million miles away; a criminal was a criminal and a hunch was just as good in Haston as it was in L.A. He had a hunch this woman sincerely had something valuable to share pertaining to the case that troubled him and he was going to find out what that was.

  He slipped on a pair of socks and shoes, then shoved his hotel key and cell phone into his pocket, and his firearm in its holster before heading out the door.

  Heading east along the sidewalk, he cautiously observed his surroundings. The street was eerily quiet and he only happened to see one person walking the block. Cars passed by - maybe ten in all by the time he reached his destination. The woman’s directions were clear as he had no problem finding the dark, bizarre-looking tunnel which was not wide enough for any vehicles to pass through. He wondered what it had been used for.

  Standing at the southern end of it, he said in a low voice: “I’m here.”

  And emerging out of the darkness inside was a woman dressed in a light blue house coat with large curlers in her hair. She looked sane enough to Nick, but careful enough not to proceed much further into the night light.

  “Detective...” She looked around and seemed relieved that no one else was in sight. “Thanks for coming to meet me.”

  “What can you tell me?” Nick asked.

  “I wanted you to meet me in private because my life could be in serious danger otherwise.”

  “How so?”

  With her head lowered, she replied with hesitance, “I know who killed Prime Minister Cunningham and it was not that boy on TV.”

  Nick felt something spring to life inside of him. Was this a hoax or could this woman be telling the truth? He waited for more.

  “I saw you on TV a couple of weeks back when they announced who the killer was. I didn’t know who else to turn to. Since you don’t live here and aren’t one of us, I thought maybe you’d be the best person,” she said. “But if anyone finds out I spoke to you about this, I’m pretty sure they’d find a way to get rid of me and my entire family, for that matter. These are dangerous people.”

  She inched a little farther back into the darkness and following her lead, Nick quickly glanced around, then eased in a little as well.

  “Tell me everything you know,” he said.

  “I will, but you have to do something for me.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Expose the truth; make sure the right person is put behind bars and at the same time, protect us any way you can. Promise me you would and I will tell you who killed our Prime Minister,” she said.

  “You have my word.”

  She seemed to be studying his face for sincerity. “Follow me,” she said.

  “Where?”

  “To the other end of the tunnel.”

  Nick reluctantly followed her through the tunnel, which was almost pitch black. Approximately eighty feet in, he saw a light at the end which shone like razor lines on the grass. He could also see a maroon car straight ahead and the silhouette of someone sitting in the back seat whose head appeared to be leaning sideways against the door window.

  “We’re almost there,” she said.

  He heard sniffling as they walked and realized it was her.

  At the end of the tunnel, she quickly turned around and grabbed his hands, much to his surprise. He could now see the tears on her face and the agony in her eyes.

  “Promise me again,” she pleaded. “Promise me you’ll protect us and that the person who’s truly responsible will be brought to justice.”

  He didn’t take her plea lightly. “I gave you my word.”

  She gulped, then turned around and walked out of the tunnel, stopping a few feet away. The back of the tunnel was facing nothing more than a row of trees across the street which stretched hundreds of feet down.

  Nick noticed someone emerging from his left. A man walked up to them.

  “This is my husband,” the woman said. “It pains me to say that he is the killer.”

  Kevin Clarke looked as if the world was resting on top of his shoulders. He seemed utterly defeated.

  “Is this true?” Nick asked him.

  Kevin nodded as the tears continued to stream down Sheri’s face. “Yes, it’s true. I killed Jackson Cunningham.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  Nick was stunned by the story Kevin told. This was something they made up in movies — not real life, he thought. The players involved in this conspiracy were ruthless, to say the least, and realizing how deep the situation was, he was surprised Kevin Clarke and his wife were standing there with him with their son in the car – and not already six feet under. He knew within his heart of hearts that what Kevin related was the truth, and just because he’s living and breathing now doesn’t mean that a plan wasn’t underway to ensure his silence for good.

  He made a call to his superior.

  “Sir, I can’t leave tomorrow as planned. Requesting your permission to stay on a little longer, although not at the Department,” he said. “Something came up that I can’t explain right now, but I will fill you in on the details later tonight.”

  Cleaver was listening intently.

  “Additionally, there are some people I need to protect outside the scope of this jurisdiction, so I would appreciate you making a few calls to ensure this happens once you receive the communication,” Nick continued.

  Cleaver was no amateur. He knew from Nick’s wording that the matter was political and potentially dangerous. “Permission to remain, granted,” he said.

  “Thank you, sir,” Nick responded. “I’ll speak with you soon.”

  He turned to the Clarkes. “Is there somewhere else private where we can go? I need to do something very important.”

  Sheri thought for a moment. “My sister’s place. It’s at the edge of town and very secluded. She’s away for a week and left me with the keys to her house. If you want, we can go there.”

  “Sounds perfect.”

  Nick climbed into the back seat and they drove with the windows rolled up. Kevin was able to put a down payment on the car just two weeks earlier – the day after Cunningham was killed. As he drove, Sheri sat in the front passenger seat.

  “Hey, buddy,” Nick said to Mark who didn’t seem to care if a stranger was sitting there next to him. Nick’s heart went out to the boy as he thought how
courageous he must be to endure such an existence, where he was unable to do so many of the things millions of people take for granted every day.

  “How old is he?” Nick asked them.

  “He’s ten,” Kevin said. His voice, shaking.

  Nick watched as Sheri rested her hand on her husband’s lap and he placed his hand on top of hers.

  They arrived at a little cottage, enclosed by a chain-link fence and surrounded by a clear, open field. No houses were within miles of the property.

  “This used to be farm land,” Sheri indicated as Kevin pulled up onto the driveway.

  “I see,” Nick said. “Your sister lives alone?”

  “Yes. She’s a very private person, so it suits her. She’s not afraid to be alone.”

  Sheri went and opened the little gate at the front of the walkway while Kevin retrieved Mark’s wheelchair from the trunk and got their son out of the back seat.

  Sheri slid her key into the front door, opening it widely enough for Kevin to get Mark through, then after they were all inside, she quickly locked it behind them.

  “What do we do now?” Kevin asked Nick after wheeling Mark over to the living room and switching on the TV for him. He’d set the volume to ‘low’.

  Nick checked out the cottage to ensure that all the curtains were drawn and all entry ways were locked. He knew they couldn’t be too careful and there was no room for mistakes. He also realized that his association with the PM’s killer could also cost him his life, if the story Kevin told was, in fact, true.

  “Let’s use the bedroom,” Nick said.

  Although they had no idea for what, the Clarkes concurred.

  “He’ll be fine out here.” Nick referred to Mark as the boy watched television.

  Sheri led the way to her sister’s bedroom and Nick selected where she and Kevin would sit. He’d brought in two chairs from the dining room and positioned them in front of the bureau where family photos stood. Everything he did that night in the cottage was done with a distinct purpose in mind.

  He sat opposite them at the end of the bed and focused his cell phone camera in their direction.

  “Today’s date is September 9th, 2010; the time: 11:05 p.m. Speaking now is Detective Nick Myers currently stationed in Haston by the Director of the International Operations Division of the FBI under authority of the Department of State. Being interviewed on camera is Kevin Clarke and Sheri Clarke, a married couple and citizens and residents of Haston. Reference: The assassination of former Prime Minister Jackson Cunningham. We’ll start at the beginning.”

  Taking a deep breath in, Kevin began by explaining how it all started. Nick quietly filmed and allowed him to get into it in great detail. Eventually, Kevin got to the part where Deputy Prime Minister Thaddeus Sherman hired him to work at his office and how well he’d been doing there.

  “One day, about three weeks ago, he pulled me into his office,” Kevin said. “I was working late that evening on a project he’d assigned to me and he was still at the office as well. Everyone else, except for his bodyguards had left for the day and the guards were out front in the lobby and at other areas of the building. At first, the conversation was basically what I thought was small talk. He asked about my wife and kid, and if things were much better for us since I’d been working there. I told him it was and explained how much better life had turned out to be on the whole: how I was able to get good medical insurance for my son, Mark, who has Cerebral Palsy and Asthma. And I also mentioned how happy Sheri and I both were now that she’s able to stay home and take care of Mark instead of having to go out to work. He was very interested in what I was saying. Something I always admired about him. He seemed to care, you know?”

  Nick didn’t respond, but allowed him to continue.

  “Well, the conversation soon shifted to politics and how our party, the CPP was obviously in trouble when it came to us being re-elected.”

  “Who brought up that conversation?” Nick asked.

  “Mister Sherman did. He seemed very worried and come to think of it, I’d never seen him that worried about it before. We discussed it a couple of times since I’ve been working there. Well, he mentioned to me that he, as well as other Members of Parliament were pretty much disgusted and fed up with how Cunningham was running the country. He sort of gave me an inside view as to what was really going on behind the scenes and asked me not to mention what he was about to tell me to anyone – including my wife.” He glanced at Sheri before fixating his stare toward the camera again.

  “Did you tell anyone?” Nick asked.

  “Not a soul – not until earlier tonight when I explained everything to my wife. I just couldn’t keep it inside anymore; it was tearing at me every minute of every day since the murder.” He sighed again. “Well, he shared that many of the decisions that were made and the recent tax bills that were passed were not necessarily what the majority of governing members were in favor of. But nobody spoke up, including him. He said that since the PM held the position also as Minister of Finance, he felt he knew what was best for the country going forward in order to relieve the debt burden and he expected his members to be in full support. Basically, he described Cunningham as a ‘dictator’ and even though he was his Deputy, he really didn’t hold much weight as far as decision-making was concerned. And I believed Mister Sherman. He always came across as a sincere person, so I had no reason to doubt that what he was saying was true. He knew the taxes was a major deal and one of the biggest turn-offs to the general public, and because of Cunningham’s stubbornness in refusing to lower or eliminate them, the other members knew, for sure, that they’d lose the next election. He said they had private meetings about it with the majority of the Parliamentarians, but only the ones they trusted.”

  Sheri was watching her husband as he revealed these events. She imagined this must have been extremely difficult for him to do as every word he spoke had the potential to cause not just him, but his family their lives.

  “Mister Sherman then told me that if they lost the upcoming election I would no longer have that job and the only way I could count on having the financial security I’d come to rely on was if Jackson Cunningham had been removed as Prime Minister. I thought he meant there would be some kind of No Confidence vote, but I quickly learned that wasn’t what he was referring to.” He looked at Nick who gestured that he continue.

  “Mister Sherman said that the only way the country would be saved from further ruin and the CPP having a good chance of winning the election again was if Mister Cunningham was killed, then he’d be able to step up and reverse some of the previous decisions that were made that had put the country in turmoil. That way, the CPP government would again receive the favor of the majority of voters and my job would also be reserved at least for another seven years. Everything he said seemed to make perfect sense to me at the time, although I was shocked when he mentioned killing the PM as a means of bringing this about. I thought it was amazing that he entrusted me with this information knowing he was going to get someone I had no knowledge of to commit the murder. Then he suggested that I do it and I was in shock. Couldn’t believe my ears. I refused straight off the bat, but then he dangled my job and my son’s insurance, and Sheri being able to stay home with my son, over my head. He told me out of the goodness of his heart he’d given me a well-paying job that I wasn’t even qualified for, when the Prime Minister, who was also the Member of Parliament for my constituency and the man I’d campaigned hard for didn’t give a damn if my family lived or died because he never tried to help us in spite of his promises. I realized, sitting there, that Mister Sherman was right, and in a way, I started to feel that anger again that I’d held in against Jackson Cunningham for years – ever since they won the government and he turned his back on me. I thought I let that anger go, but I guess I didn’t completely. Anyway, I eventually agreed to do it and Mister Sherman assured me that what I was about to do would never be disclosed by anyone. He said he’d spoken to other Members of Parliame
nt about it and what his plan was, and that they were in full agreement.”

  Nick requested the names of everyone that was allegedly involved in the conspiracy and Kevin willingly listed them.

  “How does anyone know that what you’re saying is true?” Nick finally asked.

  Kevin lowered his head for a few seconds, then looked up at the camera again. He twisted his mouth from side to side in all nervousness, as he got ready to provide the answer. “Although I’d been persuaded to do the most heinous deed I’d ever done in my life, I was aware that if the shit hit the fan, this guy, Mister Thaddeus Sherman, in the end could hang me out to dry and no one would believe he had anything to do with it. So, I excused myself for a minute; told him I needed to use the restroom. He allowed me to use the one right there inside his office. And I took the opportunity while in there to switch on the recording feature on my cell phone, then slipped it back into my pocket before I went back out. He went on to tell me one of the Members, Simon Roosevelt, owned the building complex opposite Parliament Grounds and that he’d provide a key for private access to the balcony from the rear of the building. He said I wouldn’t have to use the elevator or go inside the main entrance of the building to access it and no one would see me. He said they agreed the balcony would be the perfect spot for me to shoot from.”

  Nick realized then and there that his hunch from the beginning was right. That balcony was the perfect spot.

  Kevin continued: “One of his bodyguards, Pete Mosely, agreed to provide the shotgun and to place it in a corner of the little room which led out to the balcony. That way, I wouldn’t have to go in there with it. But they said they’d give me a bag to conceal it and that I must dispose of it when the mission was complete. Personally, I think they wanted it that way because they knew the fired weapon would be evidence and they were not about to touch it after I’d committed the act. I wasn’t totally clueless.”

  “All of this is recorded?” Nick inquired.

  “Yes – all the way from the part I mentioned when I came out of the bathroom.”