"The rods, Doctor," Aiguo said, staring at Lingli.
"If you insist. But it will be done the right way, not here. Help him back to the surgery," Lingli ordered, while pointing at Chonglin and Bingwen, by far the largest and strongest individuals in the group.
Jian nodded, and the two men began to help Aiguo back to the surgery.
"Jian, please walk with me. We have much to discuss," Aiguo said, as he was helped back to the surgery.
CHAPTER 11
Central Intelligence Agency
Mission Center for Weapons and Counterproliferation
Office of Amanda Langford
Manassas, Virginia, USA
April 30, 2017
0945 hours EST
"Daddy, I can't believe that you and Momma are thinking about selling the farm. You've lived there for over 30 years," Amanda said, her cell phone in one hand as she sat behind her office desk.
"Almost 40 years, Amanda, and our bodies are telling both of us that it's time to move on. The population in Wake County is exploding, and we've been fending off developers for years. We just got an offer that may be too good to refuse," Will Langford said.
"But what will you do? Where will you go?" Amanda asked, as another call came in on her cell. The face of Detective Morehead popped up.
"Well, we haven't decided yet if we're going to take the offer or not, but we're leaning that way. As far as where we'd live, well, we're both natives of North Carolina, so I doubt we'll leave the state," Will said.
"Daddy, I've got to go. It's a call I've got to answer, but I'll try to call tonight. I love you both," Amanda said, as she terminated the call.
"Detective Morehead, I haven't heard from you in a while," Amanda said, as she answered the call.
"I said I'd be back when I had something. Meet me in Alexandria at the corner of South Pickett and Osprey in an hour. I think we found the ambulance," Angelo said.
"How did you find it?" Amanda asked.
"Just get here. I hate talking on these things," Angelo said.
"I'll be there," Amanda said, and hung up.
After texting her boss, she was out the door.
CHAPTER 12
Public Storage Unit 62
401 South Pickett Street
Alexandria, Virginia, USA
April 30, 2017
1115 hours EST
"So, what led the police to this place?" Amanda asked, as she and Angelo walked up the driveway leading into the Public Storage facility.
Angelo stopped, and pointed across the street.
"See the three power poles beside the back entrance into the Home Depot? There's a pole right beside the entrance. That's a security camera mounted on top. It was installed to cover the back of the store, where everything is delivered. It also rotates to cover the road and the exit. At approximately 0410 on April 20th a white ambulance was recorded pulling into this driveway. The fog was thick as hell, but the guy hit his brake lights as he pulled in. All you could see were the tail lights and the word 'ambulance'," Angelo said, as the two continued to walk up the curved driveway.
"We've been here about an hour, and we're ready to enter one of the units," Angelo said.
"Why do you think it's this particular unit?" Amanda asked, while walking beside Detective Morehead.
"We don't know for sure if it's this unit, but the dogs are mighty interested," Angelo said.
The alley between the two long rows of storage units was filled with police cars, equipment and people. South Pickett Street had been blocked off for two blocks in each direction, much to the frustration of the assembled media. The second set of mass murders in the same hospital, combined with the strange incident at the Torpedo Factory, had left the whole DC Metropolitan area on edge. Rumors of chemical weapons, dirty bombs and terrorists were openly discussed on the local news programs and newspapers.
"So why not cut it open?" Amanda asked, as they reached the unit.
"Waiting on a call about a court order," Angelo said.
"Court order? Don't the dogs give you probable cause?" Amanda asked.
"Yeah, but my boss isn't taking any chances on screwing this case up when it goes to court. Just like you, I've got a boss I have to answer to," Angelo said, as his cell phone began to ring.
"That's a different ring," Amanda said, as Angelo removed the cell phone from his coat pocket.
"Miles David . . . 'All Blues'. He was the best. 'The sea, the sky, the you and I. The sea, the sky, for you and I. I'll know we're all blues, all shades, all hues, all blues.' The man was a genius," Angelo said, while reading the text message.
"Cut it open. We got the warrant," Angelo said, to the officer standing beside him.
"Everyone, back away," the officer yelled, as a SWAT Team stepped forward and faced the rollup door.
Angelo and Amanda retreated behind a van and watched as the first member of the SWAT Team removed the large padlock with bolt cutters. The SWAT team crouched behind two officers carrying transparent polycarbonate shields, then walked as a unit toward the door. One officer reached between the shields and grabbed the bottom of the door.
"Ready, pull," the officer shouted, as he pulled the door up.
The back of an ambulance was clearly visible on the right side of the double unit.
As the door rose up, the officer yelled, "Secure the area."
After verifying that no personnel were in the storage room, a dog handler entered with a large male German Shepard. Five minutes later the handler exited with the dog and shook his head.
"Man, I can smell the bleach out here. No wonder the dogs were going off. This is the part I hate. Now I have to squeeze my big ass into 3XL paper coveralls to get in there," Angelo said, as other officers began roping off entry into the storage unit.
"I've got the opposite problem. I flop around in a small set like I'm wearing a sack . . . if they have any smalls," Amanda said, as they walked over to the back of the Forensics van.
"I'm surprised they didn't booby trap the unit," Amanda said, while sitting in a folding chair and slipping on her white paper booties.
"They just wanted to get out of the area. This was an assault with a specific objective. These guys aren't terrorists, they're soldiers. They just wanted to grab their boy and exit the area," Angelo said, while struggling to pull the white paper coveralls over his right shoulder.
"Damn, I feel like a stuffed sausage," Angelo said, as he finally squeezed into the papers.
Amanda snickered while looking at him.
"Can you even walk?"
"Yeah, but I can't bend over. I'd blow out the backside for sure."
"Mind helping me with the booties?" Angelo asked, while leaning against the van and raising one foot.
"Your shoes are as long as my arm," Amanda said, as she stared at the raised shoe.
"Spare me the comments and just put them on," Angelo said.
As they walked into the unit, a bespectacled older man walked up to Angelo and said, "Remember the rules, Detective Morehead. Keep your hands to yourself. That goes for you too, young lady."
"Meet Doctor Wilton Janson, Head of Forensics for the City of Alexandria. Doctor, this is Amanda Langford, CIA," Angelo said.
"Nice to meet you, Doctor Janson," Amanda said, while reaching out to shake his hand.
He looked at her as if she had just dipped her hands in excrement.
"Oh, sorry," Amanda said, while withdrawing her hand.
"A Southerner. You don't hear that accent in this area very often anymore. I've read that it is slowly becoming extinct. Yours isn't deep South, not that pronounced, not enough drawl. My guess is the Carolinas, probably North Carolina, but not Eastern, not the mountains. They are both quite distinctive, which leaves the Piedmont," Doctor Janson said, while staring at Amanda like she was a specimen under a slide.
"I'm sorry, that was rude, but linguistics is part of my trade . . . more like a hobby. I speak 15 languages fluently, a smattering of another 30," Doctor Janson said, while
turning away as if he had lost his interest in the specimen.
"He's known for his winning personality," Angelo said, as Amanda looked up at him, the irritation obvious.
"He's also the best forensic scientist and profiler on the East Coast. His wife is buried over in Ivy Hill Cemetery, off King Street. She died six years ago, and he won't leave the area. A couple of years back, I was in a meeting with him and our Chief of Police. The Doc looked at his watch, got up and walked out. Didn't say a word to either of us. He goes to his wife's grave every Wednesday at precisely 11:15. That's the day and time that she died. I think it almost killed him. They had been married for over 30 years. His work and his studies keep him going. I think he's also an adjunct professor at American University. He has a lot of energy for an old dude," Angelo said, while walking up to the back of the ambulance.
The door had been opened. One of Doctor Janson's assistants was slowly working her way through the rear compartment, cataloguing and photographing everything she found.
"Anything interesting?" Amanda asked, the young woman in the back of the ambulance.
"Can you smell?" the woman asked, turning to stare at Amanda. Her face was a pale white with no makeup. Her thin lips looked as if they would crack if she ever smiled.
"Claire, this is Amanda Langford, CIA," Angelo said.
"Whatever," Claire said, returning to her work.
"Claire is the daughter of Doctor Janson," Angelo said.
"And that's 'Doctor' Claire Janson, Detective Morehead," Claire said, while photographing a wad of gum stuck to the side of the bench on the right side.
"If this is fresh, we may have something. Most gum starts to solidify in 72 hours. Within two weeks, it's firm. Fossilization occurs in a month to six weeks, depending on temperature and humidity. Yes, this is fairly fresh. I'd say less than a week. Damn, I need the temperature and humidity in here with the doors secured. I see an article in the Journal of Forensic Sciences in my near future," Claire said, as she used a scalpel to scrape the gum into a paper sample container.
"So you think you'll be able to get DNA from the gum?" Amanda asked.
"Of course! If not, why would I bother?" Claire replied.
"Is her father like this?' Amanda whispered, as she and Angelo walked away.
"Worse. Much worse. We are intruders who are barely tolerated in their world. But the results they get, and their ability to withstand vicious cross examination in the courtroom . . . absolutely amazing," Angelo said.
Amanda's eyes wandered to the far wall as they walked across the double storage unit. At first she saw oil on the concrete from a leaking vehicle. Then, while circling the oil spill, she glanced at the surface of the workbench built onto the side of the storage unit.
"Angelo, look at this, scratched into the paint," she said, while walking up to the workbench.
Angelo followed her and stopped, glancing over her shoulder at the strange scratching.
"Looks like Chinese," Angelo said.
"It is. That's the character for 'Tiger'. It's pronounced . . . Hǔ, like the sound an owl makes," Amanda said, while taking out her cell phone and taking a picture.
"To me, it's a gang sign. Like, we were here, screw you," Angelo said.
"You mean like a marker, a calling card," Amanda said.
"Exactly! This is arrogant and sloppy. Everything else is precise, professional. These guys are Special Forces. I don't get it," Angelo said, while turning and continuing his inspection of the storage area.
"I think they have a problem. They have an outlier who likes to do things his way," Amanda said, while continuing to stare at the character carved into the surface.
"Sounds like you're starting to develop a profile for this guy," Angelo said.
"Gotta start somewhere," Amanda said, looking at the character one last time, and then turning away.
"Hey, Wilton! What have you got? My girl found a clue and you haven't got shit," Angelo said, while walking up to Doctor Janson.
"What, the tiger scratching? It's already catalogued. There's another one in the back of the ambulance," Wilton replied, as he removed a hair from the mat on the driver's side of the ambulance.
"The inside was wiped down and sprayed with bleach, but they should have used a vacuum cleaner," Wilton said.
"We retrieved one finger print from the inside of the glove box, a wad of gum, and now, a hair; and we're just getting started. Now, if you two would leave and quit fiddling with my crime scene, things might progress more quickly," Wilton said, while waving his hand for them to leave.
Amanda began to respond, but found herself being guided to the exit by Angelo's huge arm.
"That man is an ass, and his daughter is no better," Amanda said, as they were removing their outer clothing.
"Yeah, but in 48 hours they'll produce a report that will give us more insight into these people than you can possibly imagine," Angelo said, while bending over and ripping the suit.
"I'm still thinking about the Tiger. He carved the character on a table top and in the ambulance. To me that looks like compulsive behavior," Amanda said.
"Trust me. Walter will include that as part of his report. That pair doesn't miss anything," Angelo said.
"Did the camera at Home Depot show them exiting?" Amanda asked, straightening her suit.
"We weren't that lucky. It rotates on a 90-second cycle. They left while the camera was pointed away," Angelo said.
"Other cameras? There couldn't have been that much traffic on this road at four in the morning," Amanda said.
"We're still looking, but so far, nothing," Angelo said.
"If we can't find a picture of the vehicle, then they've won. They'll disappear into the country," Amanda said, as they reached the base of the driveway leading up to the storage units.
"They had a guy on a gurney. They couldn't transport him in a sedan. It had to be another truck or a van. We'll find them. I'll contact you if anything new comes up," Angelo said, as he nodded and turned away, heading back to the storage units.
Amanda heard an argument in the distance, and saw a woman in a running outfit being restrained at one of the barricades.
"Listen, I don't care if this is your normal route. Today you're going to have to go run someplace else," an officer told the woman.
"Runners! That's it! Rain or shine . . . or fog, they're going on their run. It's like a religion for some people," Amanda said, as she removed her cell phone and began texting Angelo.
CHAPTER 13
230 Harlless Bridge Road
Little Rock, South Carolina, USA
May 5, 2017
0930 hours EST
"I can't believe that he can walk on that leg," Jian said, while standing beside Lingli.
Aiguo had just completed his fourth lap around the barn. The team had cleared and leveled the ground to minimize the chance of him tripping and falling.
"The doctors had to slice his thigh from the hip to the knee to repair the femur. The rectus femoris, the large muscle above the knee, was punctured by the bullet. Several other muscle groups and ligaments were damaged by bone and bullet fragments. Both legs have atrophied, but are healing. If he can take the pain, this will help. Physical therapy will speed up his recovery," Lingli said.
"If you think this is impressive, you should see his routine in the gym," Heng said, while crunching on an apple.
"Oh, didn't you know? Chonglin and Bingwen have set up a gym of sorts inside the barn. They said they were bored and getting soft," Heng said, as Aiguo came around the side of the barn and stopping, bent over, and threw up.
"I hate this weakness," Aiguo said, as Lingli ran over to him.
"The exercise is good for you; but if you tear something, you'll just set back your recovery. That's enough for today, Doctor's orders," Lingli said, as she handed her water bottle to Aiguo.
"She's right, you know. Let your legs recover. Come in and we'll work on your upper body," Chonglin said, appearing at the entrance to the barn. He was
stripped to the waist, his muscled torso glistening with sweat.
Aiguo nodded, drained the water, and limped toward the barn.
"There are parts of plows and other farm implements in the barn. They use them as weights. There are also horizontal poles that the farmers must have used to hang things, perfect for pullups," Heng said, while mimicking Chonglin's heavily muscled physique.
"It's good for the Lieutenant to be around his old team again. After he left for 22 Base, we never thought we'd see him again. He wasn't happy about the transfer out of the 'Tigers', but he knew it was his duty," Jian said, as he and the doctor stood in the warm sun.
"How did you wind up here? It seems a strange assignment for Special Forces," Lingli asked.
"A year after the Lieutenant was reassigned, so were we. We didn't know it at the time, but we were all part of General Kung's plan. He had a special connection with the Siberian Tigers. All of his agents were recruited from our ranks," Jian said.
"If Kung has been executed and discredited, where does that leave the Tigers?" Lingli asked.
"I don't know for sure, but I'm sure that there were changes made in the leadership cadre. They may have joined General Kung and his ancestors," Jian replied.
"I was not a Tiger. I was recruited from the Female Special Operations Company. As American women became more involved in combat operations in the Middle East, I think our government felt challenged to reply. So they created us. They would not dignify us with a proper unit name. We were given silly names like 'Advanced Company of Overall Construction at the Grassroots Level' and 'Female Civilization Post', whatever that means," Lingli said.
"But you are a doctor. How did you wind up there?" Jian asked.
"Ninety percent of us had degrees. There were other doctors and PhD's, a few engineers, mathematicians, nurses. It was a fine group. They recruited me from the 301 Hospital in Beijing. I was trained as a trauma surgeon. I was not the best, only in the middle of my class, but I am still a very good surgeon," Lingli said, while looking at her hands.
HARRIS (Detonation) Page 5
