“Egress and ingress?” Marc asked.
“Sorry. That’s security speak for leaving and entering. They seemed interested in determining how to get onto and off the property without being noticed.”
Marc exhaled, “So they arrive at different times and through different gates. Once on the property, where did they usually meet up?”
“Different places, but usually near one of the food concessions. They arrived early for breakfast every day, at least on the days that I saw them.”
“And how many days did you observe them?”
“I first noticed them on Tuesday, the day of the second practice round. When they showed up again on Wednesday, I alerted my supervisor. We then monitored their presence on Thursday, Saturday, and, of course, today.”
“What happened on Friday?”
“Either they didn’t come or we may have missed them.”
Marc again studied the photos. “Okay, exactly what was it they did that got your attention?”
“Well, Tuesday, the first day that I noticed them, I didn’t really suspect much. I mean, I saw them sitting in the bleachers near the fourth hole. They were talking and drinking coffee. But when I walked by them, I noticed that they stopped talking and looked straight ahead, even though there were no golfers in the area at the time.”
“Alright,” Marc said, encouraging her to continue.
“I still didn’t think much of it, and like I said, I didn’t see them on Friday, although they could have been there. But if they were, they got onto the course without going through one of the regular gates or the cameras would have picked them up. I think attendance that day was a little over fifty thousand, so they could have been there, just not seen. Then, on Saturday I saw them again, several times actually. And, just like Thursday, I still didn’t give them a lot of attention. People have tickets for all four of the regular tournament days and I often see the same people throughout the week. But Saturday, then again today, they seemed to hang around the area of the last two or three holes. They didn’t have any drugs or explosives or my dog would have alerted on them. It was mainly their behavior that made me curious.”
“Tell me a little more about their behavior,” Marc said.
“It was right before the incident at the eighteenth hole, before the chlorine gas was released through the sprinkler system. The spectators who had been watching the progress of the tournament at different holes along the course began following the final twosome, which is usual for any tournament. But I noticed that right after the final group had teed off on the eighteenth hole, these three didn’t follow along, they held back.”
Marc considered what he’d heard. “What happened after that?”
“Later, when I heard the president of the Savannah River Golf Links introducing the winners, these three turned away and started toward the parking lot. To me, it was like they knew something was going to happen and didn’t want to be there.”
“Were you in the area when the gas was released?”
“Yes, I was near the eighteenth tee box. A large number of patrons had gathered around the green to listen to the club president make the presentations to the winners of the tournament. That’s when I saw these three running back toward the pedestrian gate located near the concession stand.”
“That doesn’t sound unusual. Maybe they just wanted to leave early to get a jump on the crowd,” Marc said.
“Yeah, I thought of that, but why would they be running. It was like they knew something was going to happen and didn’t want to be caught up in it. Of course, about a minute later, the gas was released, and all hell broke loose.”
Marc continued to study the photos as he thought about Rebecca’s recital of the day’s events at the course.
“Could you tell if these guys left together, or did they split up?”
“Not for sure, but I assume they left together. We don’t have cameras set up at all of the exits, and I don’t know what they would have gained by leaving through different gates.”
“Then, for all you know, they could still be on the property somewhere?”
“No. We swept the property thoroughly as the police were conducting their interviews. We didn’t find anyone.”
“So, who the hell are these guys, and where did they go?” Marc asked, holding the photos.
“That’s why I came to talk to you,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“Although we don’t have cameras at the exits, we do have them in the parking lots. We use them to look for possible acts of vandalism during and after the tournament. We picked up their trail when they got to the main parking lot.” Rebecca pointed to the last photo that Marc held. The photo displayed a time stamp.
“This is a wide-angle view,” Rebecca said, pointing at the vehicle in the photo. “If you look closely, you can see the images of three people next to that minivan. Unfortunately, their faces are hidden from view, but, as you can tell by the similarity of their clothing, we believe these are the same three guys leaving right after the attack.”
“Were you able to get the license plate number off the van?” Marc asked.
Rebecca pointed at a spot on the photo, “As you can see, one of the men standing at the back of the van partially obscured the plate number. With enhanced imaging techniques however, we were able to determine it was a Ford rental.”
Marc studied the photo. “How do you know it’s a rental when you couldn’t read the license plate number.”
“See that little sticker?” Rebecca said, pointing to a spot on the vehicle’s rear window. “That’s a rental car sticker.”
Marc squinted at the tiny white rectangle, “Really hard to see it. Any luck tracking the partial plate number?”
“Very difficult. These things move around from dealer to dealer like pieces on a chess board.”
Marc started to ask another question, but Rebecca cut him off. “With enhanced imaging however, we were able to connect the sticker to a rental agency. It’s a black Ford Transit Connect XL belonging to Budget Rental located right here in Aiken.”
“Interesting. Have you had a chance to contact them?”
“Yeah. They gave us a name,” she said, then referred to a notepad. “It was rented to a David Ackerman. He used a Florida driver’s license with an address in Miami. The Feds checked the address. It doesn’t exist.”
“Ackerman? I suppose it makes sense for a terrorist to use a family name that probably originated in the country he may be out to destroy. I assume the vehicle hasn’t been returned?” Marc said.
“No, and I don’t expect it will be,” Rebecca said.
They were both silent for a moment as Marc studied the photographs.
“Look, Mr. LaRose, the reason I’m giving you this information is that, I thought maybe, with your background and what you did at the course today, you might have a lead. Something you could share regarding who may be responsible for what happened.”
Marc thought how to answer. “How well do you know the course superintendant?”
“I know who he is. I’ve seen him around the course. He seems like a hard worker and is cooperative, but that’s about all I know.”
Marc glanced at his phone. “He’s supposed to meet me later this evening.”
“Why? You think he’s connected with the attack?” she asked.
“No, I think he may be able to help us. Have you ever heard of the Apex Irrigation Company?”
“Vaguely. I think they had something to do with installing the irrigation system at the course, right?”
“Correct. Bill worked with the people at Apex. Don’t know if you realize it, but Apex has recently, in the past year or so, changed hands.”
“No, I hadn’t heard. And this is significant because—?”
“It may be nothing. But, Goodspeed informed me that the new owner is a man named Sajak Akhtar.”
“Akhtar? Rebecca repeated. “Do you know if this Akhtar is an American citizen?” Rebecca asked.
/> “I doubt it. I understand he’s a recent immigrant to the U.S.”
Rebecca pursed her lips in thought. “I have a contact at ICE, Immigration and Customs Enforcement. Maybe they could help us with that.”
Suddenly the interior of the SUV was filled with the sounds of one of Marc’s favorite tunes. It was his phone’s ring tone set to Dave Brubeck’s ‘Take Five.’ He glanced at the number, but didn’t recognize it.
“Hello,” Marc answered.
“Marc, this is Bill Goodspeed. “
“Hey Bill. I was just thinking about you. Are we still on for tonight?”
There was a pause. “That’s why I’m calling. I can’t. Something’s come up.”
Marc noticed tension in Bill’s voice. “Bill, what’s the matter? Everything alright?”
Marc waited for a long moment, and when Bill didn’t answer, Marc asked, “Bill, what’s the matter?”
“They’ve got my wife.”
“Bill, who has your wife? What are you talking about?”
“I received a call a few minutes ago. I didn’t recognize the voice. He just said, ‘stay where you are, do not go home. Your wife is with us and if you try to leave the course, or say anything to anyone, you will never see her alive again.”’
“That’s it? Did you happen to notice the caller’s phone number?”
“No, it was blocked. It came in on my cell. I’m calling you on a pre-paid I keep as a backup. There’s law enforcement all over the place. The course is still on total lockdown from the gas attack. “
“Have you told the police about your wife’s kidnapping?”
“No, the caller said that if I did, I’d never see her again.”
“So, you’re doubly stuck. You can’t leave because of the attack and you can’t inform the police of your wife’s kidnapping. I’m so sorry, Bill.” Marc exhaled into his cell. “Have the cops talked to you about the attack?”
“You kidding? They grilled me for two hours. They haven’t talked to you yet?” Bill asked.
“No, other than the State Department security that were on the scene when the helicopter landed, I haven’t seen anyone.”
“You got away just in time, but I’m sure they’ll catch up to you eventually. They just haven’t got around to you yet.”
Marc glanced in Rebecca’s direction. “Bill, I know you’ve got a lot on your plate, but if you wanted to look inside the Apex building for any evidence that someone there may be involved in this mess, where would you start?”
Again, there was a long silence on Marc’s end of the line, and just as he was about to repeat his question, Goodspeed spoke. “At this point, all I want is to see my wife safe again. But if I thought Akhtar is hiding something, and no doubt I think he is, I’d access his computer.”
“The computer at the plant?”
“No, not the company computer. That’s in the main office. I seriously doubt that you’ll find anything incriminating there. It’s mostly full of billing information. Besides, he’s too smart. No, I’d start in his office. There’s a desk computer, plus he has a laptop. Trouble is, he always takes his laptop with him wherever he goes.”
“So where does he usually go?” Marc asked.
“Besides work, he goes home. You know anything about the hamlet of Jackson?”
Marc thought a moment. “I’ve heard of it. Isn’t it somewhere near the Savannah River Site?”
“Yeah, close. It’s at the end of Atomic Road, near the entrance to the Bomb Plant. Akhtar has a large home at the end of the road. From his front porch you can see the Site’s main security gate.”
“You’ve been there?” Marc asked.
“Once. Just after he bought Apex. Said he needed help moving a few things. That was just before he put up the fence.”
“Fence?” Marc asked.
“Yeah, he had a six foot cyclone fence installed shortly after he moved in. He said it was to keep his Dobermans from running off.”
Marc thought a moment. “Does he live alone?”
“I guess so, just him and his dogs. But like I said, it’s a large house, which I thought was peculiar. It’s a two-story and has about four bedrooms and an attached three-car garage.”
“Sounds like a lot of room for one person,” Marc said.
“That’s what I thought, but I wasn’t in any position to pry. Also, he’s a private kind of guy, keeps to himself. But like I said, he doesn’t go anywhere without that laptop.”
Marc thought a moment. “Bill, I appreciate the info. Hopefully, this mess can get straightened out and your wife returned to you unharmed.”
“Thanks, Marc. You hear anything, let me know.”
“Will do,” Marc said and ended the call.
“Was that the Course Superintendent?” Rebecca asked.
“Yeah, he’s in a jam. The Fed’s won’t let him leave the course until they’re through with their investigation, and now he’s learned that someone, probably whoever is responsible for the attack, has kidnapped his wife and is threatening to kill her if he says anything.”
“I don’t get it. What is it that the kidnappers think he knows?”
“Well, for starters, he’s pretty sure that a friend of his, a former employee of Apex died at the irrigation plant just before the start of the tournament. His death has been ruled accidental, but Bill takes issue with that decision. He thinks his friend was murdered.”
“Why would Bill suspect someone at Apex killed his friend?”
“His friend’s name was Zach Saylor. He was responsible for designing the irrigation system at the Savannah River Golf Links. Saylor died of chlorine gas inhalation and, like I said, his death was ruled an accident. Bill had known Zach for years. Besides being a chemist, Saylor was an expert in the field of landscape irrigation and fertilization. Bill is convinced that Zach Saylor’s death was no accident.”
Rebecca was quiet as she appeared to think about Marc’s statement. “I gotta say, this shit’s getting deeper by the moment.”
“I agree. And it all seems to be pointing toward Apex and its owner, Mr. Sajak Akhtar.”
Rebecca seemed to mull over what Marc was telling her.
“I have to ask, Marc. Why do you care? I mean, your future son-in-law was the tournament’s low amateur. Why not just pack up his trophy and boogey back on up to New York State?”
“Because somebody’s put my daughter, my future son-in-law, and me in danger. Any one of us could have been seriously hurt, or even killed today. I’d have a hard time walking away from this without at least trying to find out who is responsible and making the fucker pay. Simple as that.”
“I see your point, but don’t you think it’s about time we get the police involved?” Rebecca asked.
“And tell them what? That we suspect someone at Apex is responsible for the attack on the Israeli Prime Minister at the Golf Tournament? We have suspicions, but no direct evidence, certainly nothing they could use to get an arrest warrant. Plus, Goodspeed has been told that if the police get involved in his wife’s disappearance, she would be killed.”
“So, where do we begin?” Rebecca asked.
Marc glanced at the dashboard clock. It was almost 9:00 p.m. “The offices of Apex Irrigation. That’s where this mess started. Hopefully, there’s still something there we can use.”
“Sounds good, but just how do you propose we get inside? I suppose we could knock on the door and pretend we’re police officers and demand to look around inside?”
Marc looked over at her with a grin, “No, already tried that, didn’t work out so well.” Marc held up the key he had received from Zach Saylor’s wife. “I have a different plan.”
“Where did you get—“
Marc held up his hand. “You don’t want to know.”
Rebecca returned the photos to the envelope and turned the key in the vehicle’s ignition. “Which way to Apex?” she asked.
Chapter Twenty
Five minutes later Marc directed Rebecca to the deserted Texa
co gas station where he had parked a few nights before. He pointed her to the spot at the back of the lot and told her to cut the engine. Leaving the vehicle, Marc motioned for Rebecca to follow him around the deserted gas station. With the help of a partial moon and clear skies, he led the way through the brushy field toward the Apex building. The cyclone fencing and the outline of deserted vans were clearly visible along the back of the property. A sudden rustle in the brush nearby caused them to stop in their tracks.
Rebecca quickly withdrew a semi-automatic firearm from her belt and crouched in the standard policeman’s ‘ready’ position.
Marc held up his hand. “It’s okay, just a wild boar.”
“If you say so,” she whispered as she slowly re-holstered the gun.
Cautiously the pair continued toward the perimeter fencing that outlined the rear portion of the Apex property. Marc located the channel under the fence that he suspected had been created by the wild boar. Laying on his back, then grasping the bottom of the fencing, he pulled himself under the fence to the other side.
“Okay, your turn,” he whispered.
In a few seconds, Rebecca was crouching next to Marc, inside the fence.
Marc could see a few lights on inside the building. Most of the external lighting filled the parking area off to the building’s right-hand side. Keeping low, Marc continued toward the rear of the structure following the same path he’d used on his previous visit. He passed the large window that he’d tried to open before, and headed toward the side of the building where the perimeter fencing ended. Just inside the fence, he spotted an exterior door. Unlike the main door out front, there was no window in this door and no light over it. Through the fencing he could see that the front and side parking lots appeared empty, save for two vans with the Apex name and logo imprinted on them.
Marc retrieved the key he had obtained from Zach’s widow, and slowly inserted it into the door’s keyway. Alert for any alarm that unlocking the door might cause, he turned it slowly. A muffled metallic click indicated the lock was disengaged. He carefully turned the knob and pulled it open. If there was an alarm, Marc figured it would be of the silent variety that would alert someone off the premises, giving him at least a few minutes to look around. After the two entered the building, he eased the door closed behind them.
Masters of Terror: A Marc LaRose Mystery Page 18
