Hour of Reckoning (Donatella Book 2)

by Demetrius Jackson

  “Daddy,” a voice came from the doorway into the room.

  Donatella, Buckley, and Aaron simultaneously turned toward the noise. There, in the entrance, stood a little girl roughly 5 years old holding a pink teddy bear with a white shirt that said, “I love you beary much”.

  Training kicked in and Donatella had swung her gun toward the sound while applying pressure to her own trigger. Heart pounding and adrenaline pumping she nearly pulled the trigger, but somewhere in her subconscious she recognized the voice as that of a child and she paused.

  Wiping her eyes and trying to bring her world into focus the little girl asked, “Daddy, who are these people and why is everyone making so much noise?” Without realizing it, the little girl, half asleep, continued making her way toward Aaron until she was sitting next to him on the sofa. She curled her feet up on the sofa and lay her head in the lap of her father.

  Buckley tracked the toddler’s progression from the threshold of the door until she reached her father sitting on the couch – all the time eyes unblinking.

  “Terri, you have to put the gun away. There is a child, an innocent child that doesn’t need to be involved in the middle of this.”

  Buckley, arms still fully extended, didn’t waver. The pressure she had exerted on the smooth finish of the trigger hadn’t lessened. The rage in her eyes still burned.

  “Do you remember the Alexander case?” Buckley asked in the flat voice that originated from thousands of miles away. “Do you remember Ashley Lewis? The 13-year-old girl that was raped, strangled, and then buried in a shallow grave. Do you remember when we apprehended the suspect? Do you remember the trial? Do you remember the not guilty verdict handed down by the jury of his peers? DO YOU REMEMBER HIS SMILE AS HE WALKED OUT!?

  I will not trust the system that failed 13-year-old Ashley Lewis. I will not trust the system that allowed the man who did what he did to her to walk free. I will not trust the system that left the mother and father of that poor little girl sobbing in the courtroom after the verdict was rendered.

  I still hear their sobs. When I think back to what happened to me and I cry into my pillows, I hear their sobs. Their sobs are my sobs and my burden.

  I will not trust the system to exact the necessary justice for this – this monster. I’m here, at this moment, right now, and I will exact justice for me, for Ashley, and for anyone else the system has failed!”

  The tear that left its trail on Terri Buckley’s cheek had completely dried and no new tears were forming. The intent to kill this man had etched itself over every ounce of her face.

  “Terri – the little girl. You can’t”

  “I can – and I will!”

  A single shot was fired.

  Chapter 7

  T he report of the gunshot reverberated around the enclosed space as the little girl that had curled up on the sofa to sit with her daddy began to scream. Donatella quickly holstered her gun and pulled out her phone.

  “I have a 10-3 and a 10-24. Agent has been shot and needs medical assistance.” She rushed over to the sofa where Aaron Smithville sat stunned at the developments. “Mr. Smithville, I’m going to need you to stand up. You are still going to be placed under arrest.”

  His daughter clinging to him and still screaming, he did as he was told. “It’s going to be alright, sweetheart,” he said. As he stood and Donatella placed the flex cuffs around his wrist, he looked down at Terri Buckley, who now lay on the ground clutching her right shoulder. “Serves you right you lying bitch!”

  “Sit down and shut your mouth!” Donatella spewed as she pushed him back in his spot on the sofa. His daughter once again clung to him and began to pull herself under control.

  Donatella walked over to her partner and took a knee. Terri Buckley had not said a word since Donatella had pulled the trigger.

  “Terri, I’m sorry. I couldn’t let you kill that man, especially in front of his daughter.” Terri simply looked at her with cold, brown eyes. The murderous intent had been removed and had been supplanted with hatred.

  Donatella was jolted back into reality by the vibrations from her phone. She opened her eyes and peered down at the screen, BJ.

  Bryce Jacobs who goes by “BJ” was a child genius. At the age of 15 he scored a perfect score on the ACT, 36 out of 36, followed up the next week with a perfect score on the SAT, 1600 out of 1600. BJ spent most of his academic youth in fruitless fights with his instructors as he felt he knew more than they could offer. Finally, at the age of 15, with perfect scores on both the ACT and the SAT, he petitioned to be accepted into MIT though he had not received his high school diploma. He won his petition, enrolled that same fall and within two years he graduated summa cum laude and sat at the top of his class.

  At 18, he had graduated from the top technology school in the country and concluded his fight with the academic system. However, he hadn’t planned for what was next. Bored out of his mind, he decided he would write an algorithm that would predict the outcome of the lottery. Many people had used mathematical formulas before to predict where the winning scratch off tickets would land, but no one had truly succeeded in predicting the lottery numbers.

  BJ focused his initial efforts in his hometown of Chicago, Illinois. The winning numbers obtained by normal and legal means could be pulled from the lottery’s website. However, the data only went back one year. He knew he would need more data for his statistical analysis, so he broke into the lottery database and was able to retrieve 25 years of lottery data. Within three months he was able to correctly predict the Pick 3 95% of the time, the Pick 4 80% of the time, and the Lotto 55% of the time.

  He popped up on the FBI radar when he accessed the lottery databases in four other states: Ohio, Virginia, Tennessee, and North Carolina. Agent Dabria was put in charge of the case and she worked meticulously to collar this criminal. However, he would not face any jail time. Although he had accessed databases illegally across multiple states, he did not profit from his efforts. He had not played the lottery and he had not capitalized on the algorithm that he created. He was put on five years of probation at the request of Agent Dabria and the two stayed in constant contact over the years.

  Every so often Agent Dabria would reach out to BJ when she needed something done that she felt toed the ethical line, figured no one else could do, or simply because she also didn’t like to follow the rules.

  “Yes BJ?” she answered while pulling the phone to her ear.

  “It’s B – wait, you called me BJ. Is everything alright? You hardly ever –”

  “Bryce, it’s been a long day and it’s getting late, what do you need?”

  “Well at least you are straight to the point, as always. Anyway, I heard about the fiasco at the headquarters of Global Insights Security. The more I heard, the more I began to question. See, Agent Dabria, the news reported that all 15 board and senior management members had been killed in the attack.”

  “Yes BJ, that is something that I already know.”

  “Hold on a minute. There may have been 15 people killed in the attack; however, there should have been 16.”

  With this, Donatella shifted to the edge of her bed and stood up. In situations like this, BJ was notorious for having some video proof and she wanted time for her laptop to power up so she would be ready.

  “I found this to be curious to say the least. If there is a board meeting taking place, why was there a board member missing? So, I did a little research on my own. I temporarily tapped into the video feeds for Global Insights Security. I promise I didn’t steal anything, I was simply a voyeur today.

  I started by watching the video footage in the lobby of the building. Everything moved along as expected up to 11 a.m.”

  “What happened at 11 a.m.?” Donatella responded, urging BJ to quicken the story.

  “At 11 a.m. the video footage went dark so I tapped into the video footage of the other cameras too. Each of them had gone dark as well. At exactly 11 a.m. I read about a technology that GIS was working
on that recorded in 4-hour segments. Although they live stream the footage to an offsite storage facility, they always keep the 4-hour segment running onsite.

  And before you ask, yes, I found out where the offsite storage facility is located. Yes, I snooped around in there as well. And yes, it too is completely blank. It became clear that someone wanted to keep what happened in this building a secret.”

  “Thanks BJ, but I’m not sure how this helps. We already know the murders took place during this window of time.”

  “Well if you would stay patient just a little longer, you’ll understand.”

  “BJ,” Donatella said in a tired voice. “I need for you to get to the point.”

  “Ok, ok, ok. I just sent you a video file from the garage underneath the GIS building. In particular I sent you the segment for the executive reserved parking area. Starting at 7 a.m., when the new video recording segment started, you see a number of executives pull into their reserved spots. By 8:30 a.m., every executive spot is accounted for. Fast forward past the 4-hour block we missed from 11 a.m. – 3 p.m. and you see –”

  “An executive’s car has been moved. Who’s spot –”

  Before the words could come out of her mouth, the camera zoomed into plate denoting, “Parking Reserved for V. King”

  “The V. King this spot is reserved for is Mrs. Veronica King, COO,” BJ stated, “I can confirm that at 7:15 a.m., she parked her car in that spot and walked into the building. However, by the time this massacre had ended, she was nowhere to be found.

  I’ve sent you her address, phone number, and a quick write up on her as I know you will want to pay her a visit.”

  “BJ,” she said with all sincerity, “You have done fantastic work. Thank you!”

  And with that she disconnected the call.

  Headline: Massacre at Global Insights Security

  www.TheSalReport.com

  By: Sal Grandson

  Today in the headquarters of Global Insights Security, GIS, an unknown substance was released in the board room wiping out the executive team. At this time, we do not know the motive for this senseless crime or if it was a terrorist act. The CEO and chairman of the board, Edward Stein, was among those who lost their life in the building this day. Stein, a respected member of the community, took over the company from his father.

  Since he took over at the helm, the company has become one of the most well-respected security firms within the country.

  Police and crime scene investigators have been milling in and out of the building since their arrival on the scene. Sources within the CMPD have confirmed that they do not have any suspects at this time. They continue to question employees that were in the building today as well as reviewing video footage in the hopes to find that one thread that will point them in the right direction.

  Should any additional information become available, I’ll have it right here on The Sal Report.

  December 12th – 4:30 a.m.

  Veronica King awoke suddenly from the nightmare that plagued her every time she closed her eyes. She recalled her husband, the no-good, cheating bastard, and his mistress tumbling to their death on the tarmac; however, in each version of her dream her daughter was being clutched in the arms of her father. Then the scene shifted to the glass board room. She could see her peers gasping for air while clawing feverishly at their throats to allow fresh air into their lungs.

  For the third time this night the nightmare manifested into her, soaking through her pajamas with perspiration. Looking at the clock that now read 4:30 a.m. meant there was no reason for her to pretend that sleep was going to happen. Her daughter, Gina, lay snuggled next to her, oblivious to the horrors her mother had unleashed the previous day. Thinking about it made her want to retch. In fact, she had done so several times, ridding herself of all the food she had consumed that day. Now she just experienced dry heaves which made her throat raw and voice scratchy.

  She pulled the covers back, also damp from her perspiration, and ambled out of the bed. She didn't know what this day would bring but one thing was for certain, she didn't want to deal with anyone given the state she was in and the things she had done.

  She slipped on her robe to give her some warmth as she made her way to the kitchen. She would have a cup of coffee, take a hot, long shower and then climb back in bed. Today was Friday and she would keep Gina out of school. She couldn't bear the thought of leaving her unattended for one minute. She would not let her out of her sight. Not for anything!

  As she turned the corner to enter the kitchen, she flipped on the light.

  “Good morning, Veronica,” a voice said as the lights began to illuminate the room.

  Veronica King nearly peed her silk pajamas as the voice echoed across the room. It was a voice she would never forget and she would find out later that she had indeed peed herself.

  “How - how did you get into my house?” she asked looking around frantically for any other intruders. My daughter, she thought now filled with fear.

  As if she had read her mind Terri Buckley, who Veronica knew as Bree, said, “No worries, it's just me here. It's your first day on the job and you have a lot to do.”

  Although she should of felt a sense of relief, she didn’t. This woman who sat across from her forced her to destroy the lives of people she called friends and that sick feeling started to creep over her again.

  “Please have a seat, we have many things to discuss this morning.”

  In her mind she wanted to put up a fight and tell this woman to get the hell out of her house. She wanted to put her hands around her neck and squeeze the light out of her eyes. But she knew better. This woman had already proved to be well connected and any wrong move she made would put her daughter in danger – mortal danger.

  She pulled her left foot, which felt like lead, from the ground and propelled herself forward toward the proffered seat. Once seated she could see three orb-shaped items sitting in a semi-circle in the middle of her island that were not there the night before. She also noticed a slender 12-inch metal tube located precariously next to the orb in the middle. The metal tube had a blinking red light about three-fourths of the way from the base of the object. Veronica prepared herself to ask a question but before she could a vertical light burst from each of the orbs. The lights stopped level with the top of the metal tube. The light formed the shape of an upside-down pyramid and was roughly 8 inches across. She stared in wonderment at the scene that had been laid out in front of her.

  Veronica looked up at her visitor, Bree, who sat with a stoic expression on her face and then back down at the orbs. As she did, an image began to appear within the middle orb. This was followed by the one on the right and finally the one on the left. A silhouette was encased within the light masking the faces. However, she could tell enough from the silhouette to know that the person on the left was a slender man with a close crew cut. The one on the right was a heavy-set woman who wore her hair in a bob and a necklace around her neck. The person in the middle was also a woman. Veronica discerned from her erect posture that she had some level of physical fitness. Her hair cascaded down to her shoulders, barely touching on each side.

  Realization hit her. Even though she could not make out any of their features, she was sure they could make out every feature on her. She suddenly became self-conscious.

  “Veronica King,” the feminine voice spoke from the base of the middle orb, “We are happy you have become part of the team.”

  As if I had a choice, she thought.

  “We have had our eye on you for some time and I must say we are proud of all of the things you have been able to accomplish on your own. However,” she said leaning forward, “Your talents were being wasted sitting behind that pompous, sexist, and racist pig, Edward Stein. You’ve been facing an uphill battle, one you were surely going to lose yesterday, so – we decided to, let us say, intervene.”

  Countless thoughts began to run through Veronica King’s head. How long had they been watching me? How d
id they know what I was planning to do yesterday? What else do these people know? And most importantly, who are these people?

  “Undoubtedly,” the voice continued, “You would like to know more about us and who we are.”

  Shit, are they able to read my mind as well?

  “For now, we will forgo official personal introductions. We are simply known as The Syndicate in many circles. An organization that operates in the shadows providing services to our clients who need to have a problem fixed. You can think of us as fixers. We are also an enterprise that dabbles in commercial trade, and that Mrs. King, is where you and your company come into play.”

  An uneasy feeling began to well in the pit of her stomach and she needed to take a couple of deep breaths to quell another bout of dry heaves.

  The slender man on the left picked up the dialogue. King began to wonder if structurally he was the right-hand man of this woman.

  “The Cleveland Museum of Art located in Cleveland, Ohio needs an overhaul to their security system. Suffice it to say, we aided them in this realization last week and they are now scrambling to replace their security system with a state-of-the-art security system. What hasn’t been shared with the public yet is that they will be hosting an art exhibit of the previously unseen works of Jackson Pollock. This lost work was discovered hidden in a buried chest and they have been restoring the work for the last two months.

  We found out about the restoration efforts from one of our contacts and began to put the wheels in motion to acquire the said artifacts.”

  The heavy-set woman with the bob hair on the right began to speak.

  “While their security in this day and age was pretty useless, it still presented us with challenges of extracting the artwork without being detected. They plan to complete the restoration efforts sometime in April and the exhibit will be held in June. We, or should I say, our client, does not want this artwork to see the light of day. Our client would like for us to procure the artifacts, each of them, so that they can be sold on the underground market where a buyer is already lined up.”