by Jack Davis
The other end of the spectrum was populated by suspects who had watched too many movies or TV shows. They were too anxious and that sometimes translated into abnormal behavior, which could tip off suspects.
For this op, Morley couldn’t have asked for a better team. There was no one in the office better at prepping an electronic crime UC than Swann, Greere, and Posada. They’d provided Anthony with the confidence he needed to act naturally. They’d go over all the scenarios he might encounter, and stress, but not too heavily, the bad scenarios so he wouldn’t be caught off guard if things didn’t go smoothly.
After Anthony was thoroughly briefed, Morley came back in the room. “Ready?”
Anthony looked down as if thinking. “Yeah, I think so.”
28 | The Blairs
Savannah, Georgia, 09/25/09, 0856 hours
In Savannah, Georgia, there was a very different line of questioning taking place. It was much more one-sided. Two people were talking—pleading actually—while the third waited for a question to be asked. While he waited, he busied himself. He moved between Tabitha Blair and her husband, Ted, in a constant cycle. He was either prepping one for suffering or making them suffer. Oh, how he loved to make things suffer. Still he knew that more than half his enjoyment came from watching the horror the methodical preparation caused his victims. The unveiling of objects that were either razor-sharp or red-hot always brought about a more pronounced level of terror to his victims. They thrashed around, sometimes uncontrollably. They screamed, howled and eventually lost control of their bodily functions—a situation he had learned to expect and prepare for. All also offered every last cent they had, to no avail. The most gratifying were those who pled desperately for their lives to the very end. They hoped to the last that there was some shred of mercy in the soul of the man in front of them. Playing on those hopes and then extinguishing them was exquisite. The greatest feeling in the world.
He was just letting a new wave of that ecstasy wash over him in the basement of a very nice vacant single-family home twenty miles outside the city. Tabitha, whose real name was Mary, had just passed out after some work on her genitalia with a razor. The tormentor used her pain-induced sleepy time as his cue to move back to Ted. Before he did, he wanted to enjoy his male victim’s helplessness and desperation. Excited and breathing deeply, he heard Ms. Blair gurgle and sputter blood behind him. He thought it was a little early for her to be conscious again, but she had been in good physical shape for thirty-five, and that probably gave her a resilience she now regretted.
In another minute, both victims were fully conscious. They faced each other from a distance of ten feet, each tied securely hand and foot to sturdy metal chairs.
Then it happened. Ted ruined it—he ruined everything. He went well past ruining it; he actually reversed it to a degree that wouldn’t be able to be undone, no matter how much pain he inflicted.
Before “the learning process” had really begun Ted, the fucking pimp of a husband pled for his wife’s life.
This was too much. It stopped the game, and rage boiled inside the killer until he began to visibly shake. Nobility, self-sacrifice, from this piece of vile scum. NO! There would be no nobility here besides his own. He would be the only one in this basement with any virtue!
These creatures were supposed to be devoid of all redeeming qualities. They were so bereft of human goodness that it was not only his right but his duty to make them suffer. If he were to give any thought to them having the capacity for the finer qualities of human nature it could push him into thinking that these things might have some redeeming qualities. That might lead to him seeing the animals as human, which he couldn’t do and still continue the process. It might even have made him question the morality of what he was doing.
As it was, it just caused the tormentor to pour hydrochloric acid into the rubber boots he had put on the feet of his immobilized male victim a bit earlier than planned. Any honor was immediately washed away in a sea of agonizing screams as the acid ate away at the young man’s flesh. The pain caused Ted to convulse and jerk wildly. Luckily for the demon in charge, he had secured the chair well. Ted spent the next thirty minutes in excruciating pain as the acid ate the flesh on his feet up to his mid-calf. At some point in the process, mercifully for Ted and Tabitha, who was awake again, the dying man passed out. This too upset the killer, as he had wanted Ted to watch the demise of his whore of a wife…but there was a timetable to keep. He would try to keep Tabitha alive and screaming long enough for Ted to come back around. If not, the grinning killer would make sure Ted woke up to see what was left of his wife before it was his turn to answer for the lifestyle he had chosen.
The procedure was over just before ten-thirty a.m. The doctor cleaned himself up and left the house by eleven, just as he had planned.
29 | Miguel LNU
Brooklyn, New York, 09/25/09, 0930 hours
“I can’t release buy-money without a case number,” protested Brown.
“Tommy, we’ll follow up with the paperwork after we get back. Our target will be at the site in ninety minutes. We’ve got to get out there, set up, brief the locals, do comms checks; we don’t have time for all the paperwork now.”
“So last night you had to do the raid, couldn’t wait. This morning you have to make the arrest before eleven. You aren’t in control. The case is controlling you.”
“Everything’s moving along well, we’re working our way up the chain. We caught a break and we’re exploiting it. Things are under control.” Morley’s voice was calm.
“I don’t like this, any of it. You say the case came in through a CI? What do we know about the CI? What if the CI is setting you up?”
“Legitimate concern,” Morley agreed, trying to placate his boss. “But everything the CI provided to us so far has panned out. We recovered close to sixty thousand dollars of stolen merchandise last night during the raid. We were able to flip the defendant. The case is solid. We’ll make sure this exchange is safe. If things don’t look right, we’ll abort.”
“I don’t know,” said Brown. He took a sip of Diet Pepsi. “Before I can approve any buy-money, you’ll have to brief the SAIC and the DSAICs.”
Morley could tell that his boss didn’t want to try to explain the case by himself and more critically, didn’t want to be on the hook if something went awry.
“Tommy, there’s no time for that kind of briefing now. I need to be headed out the door ten minutes ago. It’s two hundred and forty dollars for heaven’s sake.”
“You’re rushing. You need to postpone this. Do it later, or Monday.”
“How’s this: I brief the boss from my car en route to the meeting location. It’ll take me thirty minutes to get there so I can answer any questions during the drive. If he’s got heartburn with it, we can call it off then.”
Morley waited as Brown pondered. “I don’t like it.”
“Tommy I gotta go.” Morley got up to leave. “If you want the SAIC briefed call me on my cell.”
“Wait a minute, I’m not done,” complained Brown.
“This may be our only shot,” Morley added as he walked out the door.
“I’m not done! I’m not authorizing any money.”
“Boss, I’ve got you on speaker,” said Greere. “Doc’s drivin’.”
“Hey guys. Waddya got?”
“Anthony did a good job with the phone call. He told Miguel his car died, and he had to borrow one from a friend. Miguel sounded annoyed, but not suspicious.”
“Excellent.”
Swann’s voice came next. “Carpenter gave us the paperwork to pull information about the target’s cell number. It comes back to a Julio Hernandez of Queens. A check online revealed that the address resolved to a Mail Boxes Etc.”
“The interesting thing about the cell account is that it’s actually been open for four months and the bills have been paid.”
“Then he’s not a very security-conscious criminal. A good criminal would’ve tossed it when th
e bill came in. That’s a thread to pull.”
“Already on it,” said Greere. “Hogan and Fatchko were vectored there already. The store manager told them the box holder was a Hispanic male who had been a regular for five months. They got a description of Mr. Hernandez, who, get this, is normally in twice a week.”
“Wow, a criminal with a pattern. How nice is that?”
“There are four packages waiting there for Mr. Hernandez. Hogan and Fatchko got the information off them and passed it to the office for follow-up. They got a copy of the security cam footage for the past thirty days, the original application, and all the slips from the packages Hernandez signed for.”
“What about the contact information on Hernandez’s application,” asked Morley.
“The address comes back to another Mail Boxes Etc.; the phone is a disconnected cell. The one piece of information that is still valid is the payment method. A quick check with Visa revealed that the card, also in the name of Hernandez, has an address in Staten Island, another PO Box.”
“Pencala went out to Staten Island address and got everything from that location. That contract is under the name Miguel Orchiva.”
“Miguel? Really?” Morley was pleased that they might finally have gotten to the end of fake names.
“Pencala says the description is almost identical to the one we have for the Hernandez alias. She’s en route with the paperwork. We can see if the handwriting matches to the other Mail Box applications.”
“Excellent work, guys. I’ll see you at the briefing location.”
Morley’s next call was from Pencala who’d been tasked to look into the gang connection.
“PJ with what little we had, on our Miguel LNU, my contact in the gang task force couldn’t help. He did say the Latin Kings don’t control the area in question, and it’s not known for gang activity. Last thing, none of the detectives or agents in the NYPD gang task force knew of any gang members working stolen credit cards.”
“Interesting. Anything else?”
“I notified the local precinct that they’d have a surveillance in their area beginning at approximately 1030 hours. I gave them vehicle descriptions and tag numbers and set up running passwords for the agents and officers.”
“Great,” said Morley. “Murray and Kruzerski are in the area right now looking it over. They said they’ve found a good parking spot fifty yards up the street. It had a view of the corner, and enough parked cars to make the surveillance van look inconspicuous.”
“I spoke to Posada a minute ago. Anthony is all wired-up and ready to go. In addition to the mic in the undercover car, he’s gonna have an iPad with the mic and GPS tracker. We gave him a new cell and a tablet with the transponders. He’s gonna tell Miguel that he bought them for a guy who didn’t have the money. Anthony’s gonna offer either one or both to Miguel for twenty bucks each from the day’s take.”
“Great idea. Who came up with it?”
“Greere.”
“Sounds about right. He is the sneakiest of the team.”
Pencala laughed. “I’m not sure if I’d agree with that, but I’ll let that pass. Anyway, I hope he takes one or both of ’em. Trying to tail him in that part of town is gonna be a challenge.”
“See you at the briefing site.”
The briefing was held in the garage of the 57th Precinct over the hood of the undercover car, a souped-up 2006 Honda Civic that had been seized in a counterfeit investigation. Morley gave a synopsis of the case, briefed the plan Murray and Kruzerski had developed, then made assignments. The plan was sound, and with some tweaks based on new information about the site, it was as solid as it could be on such short notice. The agents pulled out of the garage at 1015 hours and were in place by 1045 hours.
Pencala and Swann hopped out of the Honda Civic in front of a McDonalds ten blocks from the meet site.
Swann recounted the money Morley had given him, — money Morley had withdrawn from his bank account only minutes prior.
Handing Anthony the money, he said, “Pretend this is like any other day you’ve exchanged money for numbers. You’ll be fine.”
As it turned out, the group had more time than they expected. Miguel, on skel-time, showed up thirty minutes late.
“The suspect is on the north side of 124th Ave headed east.” Posada had unusually keen eyesight and was the first to identify Miguel. “Black jeans, a green shirt, and a Mets cap.”
One by one, the others picked up the suspect walking toward the UC car. No one could help notice he didn’t seem to have a care in the world. He seemed completely at ease.
Posada continued to relay information over the air for the units who didn’t have a visual. “He’s reached the car and rapped on the window…He’s leaning into the car.”
“Lionel, Brian, you gettin’ audio,” asked Morley.
“Roger that, he’s four-by-four.” Murray took up the narrative. “Everything sounds normal. They’re talking about how things went yesterday, and it sounds like they exchanged the money for the numbers.
“Our boy’s offering the electronics. Target agreed to take the iPad.
“They appear to be wrapping it up.
“Okay, they’re done.”
“Roger that,” responded Morley, “I’ve got him. He’s headed back the way he came. I’ll have him for a couple blocks on 124th, Fatchko, you take 67th Street. Hogan, you take 68. Murray, are you getting a signal from the iPad?”
“Yeah, we got ’em.”
As the target turned onto 68th Street, Agent Hogan took up the narrative. “Target is getting into a white two-door Mercedes convertible. The car is facing northbound on six-eight. I can’t see the license plate. I’ll get it when he pulls out.”
When Morley heard the vehicle description, he got on the radio. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a transmitter and a vehicle that we should be able to pick up from space it’s so bright. If you lose this guy, you’re all fired.”
“Or, we could just go to the Protection Squad.” Swann couldn’t resist.
Swann and Greere got an email from Posada within a minute. “PJ’s driving so he couldn’t send this himself. He didn’t want to put it out over the radio, so he asked me to send it. Here is the message in its entirety: Assholes.”
While Morley and Posada went to pick up Anthony, the rest of the team followed Miguel at a leisurely distance, with only one car at a time having a visual. The other cars paralleled and tried to leapfrog ahead when possible.
Miguel made two stops on his way home: a drive-thru McDonalds and a post office. Morley assigned one car to drop off the surveillance and preserve any evidence at the locations. The rest of the team followed Miguel to his apartment.
Not knowing how long their target was going to be “down,” the agents tried their best to use the time to its fullest. Kruzerski and Murray, who were completely exhausted, were left as a backup team on the apartment. They took turns getting thirty minutes of sleep after downing pastrami sandwiches from a local deli.
The team in the van used the break to take turns getting something to eat and taking, bio-breaks. They sent photos of Miguel back to the office electronically, and a photo lineup was developed. Morley had teams of agents sent to the Mail Boxes Etc. to show the photo lineups in the hopes of getting a positive ID.
While the team still had a clear signal on the transponders, not knowing if Miguel would take the iPad with him later, Morley took the opportunity to place a bug on the Mercedes. Once tested, the teams relaxed and took turns watching the apartment.
Pencala and Posada took Anthony to the office to continue his processing.
Morley began making phone calls as soon as he was alone.
“PJ, what’s going on out there?” There was concern in Kensington’s voice.
“Excuse me?”
“The SAIC has me calling my counterpart over at the Bureau to set up an APT briefing. He told me to say we have someone in custody who may be associated with the APT.”
“What? Tha
t’s crazy. Where’d he get that?”
“He said Tommy briefed him on a case that has ties to Asia.”
“We arrested an Asian kid who happens to be a hacker, but the only tie this kid has with China is takeout. He’s not associated with the APT and I never implied that in the briefing.”
Morley was exasperated; he thought for a second. “When did the SAIC contact you?”
“He just called.”
“This is bullshit. Tommy’s grandstanding. He was in the SAIC’s office after my briefing. It would have taken him about this long to convince Bruce that it couldn’t hurt to include the Bureau. Don’t call the Bureau. Tell Bruce you and I spoke and…” Morley paused. “…better yet, I’ll handle this. I’m gonna call Tommy and tell him the numbers seem to be coming out of Greenland…”
“Greenland?”
“Yeah, it’s the most nondescript country on the planet. I don’t think even Tommy can come up with a conspiracy theory about Greenland. If I tell him our new suspect is Mexican, he’ll have this tied into drug kingpins. Greenland will keep him spinning for days.”
“I’m not gonna let you lie to the SAIC,” Kensington protested.
“I won’t be. Tommy will do it for me. Oh, and don’t answer your phone for ten minutes after this call. When I tell Tommy it’s not the Chinese, he’ll want to contact you immediately to cancel the FBI briefing. You not answering will force him to sprint, or whatever his version of a sprint is, to your office to tell you not to engage the Feebs. Do me a favor and string him along. Tell him all the Bureau brass is coming in and wants to see what we have.”
“I always liked the devilish side of you, PJ.”
Following the conversation with Kensington, Morley called Brown and figuratively lit his hair on fire. Morley could picture his ASAIC’s face turning deeper shades of red as he realized the ball he had started rolling. When Brown hurriedly disconnected, “To call Marilyn,” Morley was pleased with himself.
