The Gilded Sanctum

by Keith Veverka

  Walker lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. What was Castillo hiding? he asked himself. And most importantly, Was Meredith now in danger? Would Castillo eventually learn it had been her that had given him the keycard, and had he just inadvertently dragged her into the crosshairs with him? Walker wasn’t so sure he could answer any of these questions, and he stopped trying as the day’s weariness slowly got the better of him. Walker fell asleep, so the nightmares could begin.

  Chapter 19

  Special Agent Walker tugged on his kevlar vest with both hands, pulling the bulletproof padding down from his neck. Designed to absorb the impact of bullet rounds, the woven vest of laminated fibers was surprisingly light, but it weighed him down now. Still the newest certified member of the Washington Field Office SWAT team, he was well aware of the importance of the gear, had practiced with it many times in training, but he had never quite gotten used to it.

  Walker peered around the inside of the armored car, his fellow SWAT teammates readying themselves for whatever they would face, adjusting helmets, checking automatic rifles, and ensuring their equipment was in perfect working order. All police officers were keenly aware that the slightest malfunction in a tool or weapon could cost them their lives, especially in a hostile situation where a SWAT team was required, so ensuring all their various military-style accoutrements were ready was of paramount concern.

  A human miscalculation, on the other hand, could neither be planned for nor prevented at this juncture in the operation. At this point, each member of the SWAT team would simply rely on their intensive training to ensure a successful outcome. But unfortunately, it didn’t always work out that way.

  The emergency request for backup came into the FBI field office about 20 minutes earlier — around 8 PM — based on a 911 dispatch call approximately 30 minutes before that. The Virginia State Police were already on the scene, responding to a hostage situation that had developed in an office building on Route 50 in West Falls Church, Virginia. Elements of the state police SWAT team were not in the vicinity because of a training exercise, so the FBI received the call.

  From what Walker had gathered from his commander, who was seated in the passenger seat of the vehicle and could be seen through the small bar-covered window separating the cabin from the rest of the armored car, a fight had ensued between a female lawyer and a former client. And now he was holding her — and her daughter — at gunpoint.

  State troopers had surrounded the building, which was situated along a cluster of other businesses in an office park, and negotiations had begun. They needed SWAT to secure the perimeter, conduct reconnaissance, and prepare for a breach if negotiations with the hostage-taker broke down. The situation was standard fare for the elite officers, and they had trained on this very scenario countless times. The armored car lurched to a stop. Seconds later, the rear doors opened and twelve men, clad in their SWAT gear, descended from the vehicle in a single file line into the darkness.

  Walker surveyed the scene. Several police vehicles — lights flashing — had formed a semicircle around the front of the office building. Portable lights, placed at various intervals around that same perimeter were also pointed at the building, illuminating it in a white glare, red and blue lights dancing within the glow. A large window, emblazoned with ‘Andrea Shelby, Attorney At Law’ in gold writing, was the most notable feature of the storefront, next to a standard-sized door with a full-length pane of glass. Through the haze of lights, shadows of movement could be seen inside. A police helicopter thumped rhythmically overhead, its circular search light bouncing around the parking lot as it hovered back and forth.

  As the SWAT members jogged past a makeshift negotiation station behind a police cruiser, consisting of a small table covered by a radio receiver and schematics of the building, an officer spoke into a cell phone on speaker with the subject. It sounded like a lot of talk from the negotiator with only silence in return. The SWAT commander moved to the next police vehicle and his team gathered around him as he threw a blueprint of the building on the hood of the car, illuminated by the lights from their helmets.

  “Alright, gentlemen, as far as we can tell, we have one subject inside with what we believe to be a semiautomatic pistol and two hostages. The first is the owner of the business, a thirty-five-year-old Caucasian woman, and the second is her twelve-year-old daughter. There are smaller offices here and here,” he said, pointing to the blueprint, “but we believe all of them to be located in the main office...in the front right here. Hostage negotiations are ongoing, so right now we’re the backup.”

  “Any idea how the girl got in there?” asked one of the SWAT officers.

  “Sounds like she was dropped off by her father a short time ago. He’s in the back of a squad car over there. Mom and daughter were going to a movie tonight. Dad thinks the assailant is a former client, came back with the gun after he dropped off his daughter,” the commander replied.

  The SWAT officer nodded as the commander proceeded to assign two-men teams to various checkpoints either around or on top of the building by pointing to the locations on the map. Finally, he said, “Walker and Bingham, I want you two right here on the roof. There’s an access panel for an air duct there. Remove the plating so we can gain access if needed, but for right now, just sit tight and observe.” Walker and his partner, Marcus Bingham, nodded.

  The commander surveyed the group. “Any questions?”

  There were none.

  “Move.”

  Chapter 20

  Walker awoke, but still felt drained. He sat up, struggling to catch his breath and groggily returned to his present reality. Unfortunately, his dreams had become reality as well, but he couldn’t change that. His dreams were the mistakes he couldn’t correct, the errors he couldn’t erase. Making the transition from a reality he couldn’t change to the one that he could — but rarely ever did — was a daily ritual, so he was used to it by now.

  He stared into the bathroom mirror after splashing water on his face and ran through the previous day in his mind. After last night’s threat from Castillo, he was more convinced than ever that Lewis had been right, and the suspicious dean and his security chief were hiding something sinister behind the gilded walls of this exclusive private school. He wasn’t sure what it was or how deep it went, but he was certain there were secrets.

  The video evidence only proved to complicate that theory. He wasn’t sure how Josh Easterly, or any of the dozens of other boys who may have had those same rings, fit into the story. Was it related to the Sons of Liberty? Or just a ghost story? It was fairly obvious why Castillo hadn’t shared the video evidence with Walker. First, it was a hidden camera which presented a litany of legal issues, and second, it was an image of a stranger cloaked in a robe and wearing a mysterious ring. That image in and of itself would scare the hell out of any parent who wished to send their child here, and it certainly wouldn’t be appearing in marketing materials any time soon. But the question still remained: Was it a dangerous cult or an innocent child’s game? And was Castillo aware of it?

  Walker wondered how many other girls may have also disappeared from this campus; how many missing persons may have gone unreported. If Walker hadn’t been involved in this case, he wondered where the case would be right now. Would Amanda simply be just another unsolved mystery, or was Castillo trying to protect someone? Whatever the motive, Castillo had been hiding a crucial piece of the puzzle, and that was deeply concerning.

  However, he had to tread carefully. Any misstep now could result in his expulsion from the campus, and for all intents and purposes, the end of his investigation. As far as he knew at the current moment, Castillo was unaware he had seen the hidden footage, so he had to invoke its existence without tipping his hand. He needed to speak with Ellis again, try to rattle him, and see if any inconsistencies emerged in his story.

  Walker decided to place a call to Dr. Ellis’ office requesting a meeting, and surprisingly, through his receptionist, he agreed. He imagined
Ellis was projecting this facade of cooperation to appease Arcuri, but instead, they simply had to wait it out. Walker only had two days left, so if they appeared to collaborate on the outside, while hamstringing the investigation behind the scenes, he would be left with nothing. But at least Arcuri would be satisfied because his private investigator had been given a chance. Or if Walker happened to get too close, he didn’t doubt that Castillo would decide to take care of him. He knew the threat last night from Castillo was real. He was former military, meaning he knew how to kill people, and perhaps even make it look like an accident. The closer Walker got to the truth, the more dangerous this investigation became.

  After showering and dressing quickly — in a fresh button-down and jeans — Walker made his way to the third floor of the administration building for his second attempt with Ellis. The receptionist entered the office with him. This meeting was certainly not as cordial as the first, no pretentious introductions this time, and Castillo and Ellis were talking as he entered the room. Both men — Ellis behind the desk, Castillo in the same chair as last time — leaned in close toward each other. The secretary closed the door behind her.

  Walker approached the desk as Ellis and Castillo halted their conversation and leaned back into their chairs. Before Walker had reached his seat, Ellis spoke. “Joaquin tells me you were in a secure area last night.”

  Walker sat in the chair, pausing for a moment to decide how best to solidify his lie. “Yes, I lost my way I guess.”

  Ellis moved forward, his elbows firmly on the desk, his hands folded just below his chin. “Mr. Walker, please remember that we have invited you here. And we have very strict rules regarding entry into certain locations on this campus. As a former member of law enforcement, you should know that.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “But Joaquin tells me you have shown little respect for these rules and no deference to our operating procedures.”

  Walker looked at Castillo, who was staring at him. He turned back to Ellis.

  “Yet we have shared all of our information from this investigation with you. You’ve interviewed several of our students, and today I’m told you will be talking to the faculty members. We have even given you a keycard for entry into virtually every location on campus, except for our sensitive areas. I’m not sure what you’re expecting from us, Mr. Walker.”

  Bending forward to match Ellis’s aggressive stance, Walker said, “I need to know what’s going on here that you’re not telling me about?”

  Ellis started to chuckle and dismissed the suggestion, but Walker continued. “I need to know why you have so many cameras on this campus, but a girl goes missing from these grounds without a trace. I need to know how many other girls have disappeared from this campus that have never been reported. I need to know why Joaquin has been leading me around by the hand and not allowing me to do my own investigation.”

  Ellis glared at Walker. “Mr. Walker, I know you are frustrated by this case. We’re all frustrated by this case. But we did not bring you on board so you could fling accusations at Joaquin and me and accuse us of not being forthcoming with you. We brought you here because we thought you could help...”

  “Did you have anything to do with Amanda’s disappearance?” Walker interrupted.

  Ellis looked surprised. “I’m sorry. Is this an interrogation?”

  “Are you able to answer the question?”

  Castillo spoke up, “He doesn’t need the answer the question. He’s the dean of this school for Christ’s sake.”

  Ellis held up his hand. “It’s okay, Joaquin, I’ll answer the question.” He stared into Walker’s eyes. “I had absolutely nothing to do with Amanda Bryson’s disappearance. All I want to do is find her and reunite her with her family. And for her to finish her high school career at Washington Academy.” He breathed. “Mr. Walker, we cater to a very privileged segment of our society. And for a multitude of reasons — be it the wealth or the power or the sensitive nature of what they do, our parents expect a level of privacy and secrecy from this institution. Please do not assume just because we are not transparent, we are hiding something. We are opaque because it’s what our clientele demands.”

  “Yet Mr. Arcuri asked you to bring me here.”

  “Yes, but I could have refused. Lorenzo knows full well what we are about here. In fact, he is one of our clients who expects it, and so he fully understood that what he was asking me to do was going against that philosophy. But his father is an old friend, and he’s given a lot to this school, so I agreed. But only within the confines of our standard operating procedures,” Ellis said, wagging his finger. “Nothing more.”

  “I can’t solve this case if you’re hiding anything from me.”

  “I assure you, Mr. Walker, we are not. But you must understand our need to do this quietly. We must be discreet to honor the wishes of our many other clients and their children, including Lorenzo Arcuri. It would not be wise to draw any undue attention to this matter.”

  Walker kept his discovery of the video evidence to himself. For now.

  Ellis lowered his voice and spoke softly. “I understand that in the absence of any real evidence, it is very easy to suspect us. It makes sense. That we’ve simply covered everything up to hide the truth of what really happened,” he said, glancing at Castillo. “But I assure you, Mr. Walker, nothing could be further from the truth. We want to find Amanda Bryson just as you do. Work with Joaquin, interview the faculty, and whatever you need from me, please don’t hesitate to ask. We’re all on the same side here.”

  I very much doubt that, Walker thought to himself as he nodded and thanked Ellis for his support. As far as he could tell, Ellis was telling him the truth. Or similar to Josh’s answers, he believed he was telling him the truth. Walker’s questions had been direct, but Ellis was able to field them with expert precision. Perhaps that meant he wasn’t involved, or perhaps after all these years of hiding so many secrets, he had gotten really good at lying.

  Chapter 21

  Special Agent Walker and his partner easily scaled the wall of the office building through a maintenance ladder on the far side of the complex. They reached the roof, methodically swung their assault rifles to clear the area for any activity, and settled by a large air vent, a rectangular-shaped aluminum structure which jutted out from the flat roof. According to the schematic, this air vent led directly into an adjacent office of the main room where the assailant was holding the woman at gunpoint.

  A small electric screwdriver was used to remove the flimsy metal grate which covered the opening of the vent. It was only a short distance to the main floor, and the two SWAT officers could hear the yelling. The negotiations did not appear to be going well.

  “Unit two, is the air vent clear?” crackled the question over his earpiece.

  “Roger that, command. We have removed the access grate and are holding at the opening. We can hear the subject inside.” Walker said into the microphone, attached to his helmet.

  “Unit two, move into position. Subject is becoming increasingly erratic and negotiations are breaking down.”

  The two men exchanged ‘anxious but inevitable’ glances and Walker replied on the radio, “Roger that. Moving into the air vent now.”

  The SWAT officers climbed into the aluminum tunnel and crawled a short distance on the flat silver plates until they reached another metal grate, which covered a rectangular opening directly above an office space. This room was adjacent to the main lobby, and the door between the offices was slightly ajar, so the arguing could easily be heard in the next room.

  “Command, this is unit two, we are in the air vent above the adjacent room. Permission to enter the room?”

  There was a long moment of silence. The commander was most likely checking in with the hostage negotiator. On the continuum of deadly force, the commanding officer had to decide if there was enough cause for an escalation — if a tipping point had been reached to take it to the next level. Making entry into the room was t
he next level of engagement, not a full breach, but definitely upping the stakes.

  As evidenced by the increased tension and angst in the hostage-taker’s voice, the situation was rapidly deteriorating. Literally any trigger at this point could scuttle the negotiations and send the entire episode south in a matter of seconds, giving law enforcement only a few precious moments to react. Having a SWAT team in position in an adjacent room might be the only chance they had if the subject decided to start killing.

  The order finally came. “Permission granted. Enter the adjacent room and hold position.”

  Walker removed the second grate and passed it back to his partner, who set it gently on the air duct, and then swung himself down into the room, holding onto the grate opening for support. He dropped the couple of feet to the floor, went down on one knee, and aimed his rifle at the slightly open door. The ranting in the next room continued unabated, which provided perhaps the best cover for his movements. Moving low in a crouch-like stance, Walker stepped gingerly toward the open door as his partner did a similar maneuver and lined up against the wall behind him.

  As Walker reached the slightly open door, he raised his assault rifle through the slit in the entryway and peered into the lobby. Sitting in an office chair in the center of the room was a young girl with long black hair, ensconced in a thick, woven blanket and shivering from fear. Her hands covered her mouth as she wept quietly, her body shuddering as she tried to contain the muffled cries and not draw any attention to herself.

  The subject was a white male, approximately six-feet-tall with a buzz cut. He wore camouflage pants and a sleeveless, ribbed undershirt — pejoratively known as a wife-beater — which showed off his bulging muscles. A tattoo on his left arm signified he was probably former military, and that wasn’t good. Ex-military meant he was most likely proficient with his firearm, so any advantage SWAT might have with a low-skilled criminal had just narrowed significantly. He had the mother in a stranglehold with his left hand, while his right hand waved a handgun. The negotiator’s voice, calm and measured, emanated from a speakerphone on a nearby receptionist counter. In contrast, the perpetrator was irate and loud, shouting back at the phone as though it was a real person sitting there.