by Brown, TW
He smiled to himself as various cars would enter the dip in the hill that prevented his being noticed until the vehicle was almost on top of him. His radar gun led would read “40...37...32.” Several cars passed, each one slowing as he became visible to the driver.
Ten minutes into his vigil, it happened, a car roared past. The driver seemed oblivious to his midnight-blue squad car. A small beep emitted from the radar gun. The display flashed “63”!
Dakota slipped his car into gear and rolled out in pursuit. Reaching over, he flipped on his lights and was unprepared for the driver’s response. Instead of slowing, the car accelerated and began to pull away. Dakota reached for his mike as he gunned the engine to give chase.
“Dispatch, this is Riley,” he said, trying to conceal his excitement. “I am in pursuit of a highspeed perp moving west on one-three-two. We are approaching First Avenue, request backup.”
Before dispatch could respond, the car shot into the intersection against a red light and promptly smashed into a city bus.
The driver of the car turned out to be in possession of an entire kilo of pure cocaine. Dakota made the bust that resulted in a commendation, along with a great deal of praise from his commander.
The office of the Des Moines Police Department now housed its first real major felon in its tiny cell. The felon’s name was Mark Sherman, a known drug dealer, currently wanted by the local DEA affiliate for suspected involvement with a major drug trafficking operation currently under investigation by the Seattle Drug Task Force.
The day before Mr. Sherman was to be transferred to the King County Jail where he would stand trial, four men paid him an unscheduled visit. The lone security camera showed the four men in ski masks burst in and gun down the duty officer that sat at his desk. They proceeded to Mark Sherman’s holding cell and shot him in the head...five times.
It was quickly assumed that word had gotten out that Sherman was going to testify. He had readily expressed knowledge that he could identify the major players of the drug ring in question. A drug operation that used Seattle as a distribution hub running from Vancouver, Canada to San Diego, California.
In exchange for his testimony, Sherman was to have received immunity from prosecution. In addition, he would’ve been given a new identity and then covertly relocated to another city. He moved to Sky View Estates Cemetery instead.
Dakota received an invitation to assist the Seattle Drug Task Force in its investigation. During that time, he quickly impressed Captain Matt Bell. Bell held the position of not only liaison between the Seattle Drug Task Force and the DEA, but commander of the task force as well.
Although none of the assassins were apprehended, a complete search of the Sherman residence by Dakota yielded some more useful intelligence. A major shipment of heroin was being transported To Seattle from San Diego. Its ultimate destination was Vancouver, Canada. The street value had an estimate of just over eight million dollars.
Dakota assisted the men of the Seattle Drug Task Force with the bust. His performance in that raid prompted Captain Bell to recommend that Dakota turn in his citation pad. “You seem more suited to busting some real bad guys,” Bell suggested.
With a few phone calls, the arrangement was made. Dakota put his patrolman uniform in mothballs and became a Suit. Four years as a speed-trap cop was over, he became an official undercover detective on November 21, 1990.
The next three years were the fastest in his life. He was paired up with a senior detective by the name of Derrick Rider. Rider, a seven year veteran of the war on drugs, proved to be a superb mentor. Dakota quickly learned that undercover work wasn’t the thrill-a-minute, shoot ‘em up lifestyle depicted in movies.
If Derrick was an excellent teacher, Dakota established himself as an even more ambitious student. It took almost no time for a solid bond to develop between the two. Their relationship extended beyond just work. The pair spent many of their off hours together forming a connection stronger than any friendship the two had ever experienced before. When Derrick married his child-hood sweetheart, it was Dakota who stood at his side as best man. Throughout it all, they never ceased in their relentless investigation of the drug ring known on the streets as San-Sea-Ca. It became their obsession to bring the organization down.
In February of 1995, a routine drug raid netted additional information involving alleged personnel of the San-Sea-Ca organization.
This time, Derrick and Dakota vowed not to let the prize slip through their grasp. Leading a strike team, they went after every name on their list. Time after time it seemed that the bad guys stayed one step ahead.
Finally, the break they needed was at hand. They were called in when a routine traffic stop yielded a man named Victor Nonsa. The unit pulling Nonsa’s car over was a K-9 unit. The dash mounted camera caught it all as the officer approached the vehicle. Suddenly the occupant, Nonsa, slams the door into the officer and leaps from his car as if to run. Then a blur darts from the area of the squad car. Brutus, the trained police dog, had his jaws clamped around the fleeing suspect’s throat awaiting his partner’s arrival.
A little questioning was like pulling the arm on a slot machine and lining up the cherries. Enough packaged drugs were found in the car to send Nonsa away for the rest of his formative years. He quickly gave up working for San-Sea-CA and just wanted out from under the organization’s thumb.
He claimed not to know much more than the person immediately above him, who he revealed as Marty Pennington, owner of the Pennington Motor Group. He did however know one key element of the current supply load, it would be coming from Canada.
When lab results came back on the drugs confiscated in the bust the initial guess that they were dealing with a heavy meth distributor took a slight twist. This meth was cut with a potent hallucinogen that packed a much stronger rush than standard crank. The twist was that it eventually mellowed into euphoria akin to LSD. In a short period of time, it became the choice in Seattle’s many Techno-Rave clubs. It also gained immense popularity with the social elite. Plain and simple, this stuff was bad news.
So far, nobody actually knew just how this stuff arrived in the Emerald City. To date the Canadian and American Border Guards had yielded a big fat zero in their attempts to make any Sort of bust. The only consistent fact was that the ‘White Rager’ only arrived for distribution to its dealers twice a month. This increased its appeal as a hot commodity.
More strong-arm interrogation of Nonsa resulted in a few additional pieces to the puzzle. First, deliveries were always on Thursdays. Second and more essential to tying their leads together, delivery was always made by the same man, a man whom Nonsa easily identified as Brian Sherman, brother of the late Mark Sherman. Third and the icing on the cake, Sherman always arrived in the same vehicle, a HumVee.
With all the miles of heavily forested and mountainous terrain, it would be impossible to monitor a single vehicle with the capabilities of handling rough terrain like the Hummer. Any attempt at single-unit surveillance would be too simple to detect and likely be unable to manage the trip in any case.
After a few hours of brainstorming, Dakota and Derrick devised a plan that, while a bit extreme, was doable. The plan would need the varied components of a Piper single prop airplane and a helicopter in addition to the unmarked cars for city driving. After some heavy convincing by both Dakota and Derrick, Captain Bell gave the approval. Negotiations were made with Canadian officials, and the plan was set in motion.
***
Anticipation grew as the first Tuesday arrived after affirmation had been given by the Canadian government. A team set up to observe Sherman as he left the Pennington Lot in his Hummer. Once the word had been relayed, the helicopter picked up the trail. It maintained a visual on the Hummer, reporting regularly the location via secured-channel radio communications. Once outside the more densely traveled areas, the clandestine pursuit became the responsibility of a series of unmarked cars. The unmarked cars maintained contact on the ground until Sherma
n exited the Interstate.
From there, Sherman utilized a series of back roads as he wove his way towards the border. Eventually he turned off anything resembling a road and made for the foothills and forests that gave the Northwest its idyllic beauty. That was where the Piper took over surveillance. The Piper held contact for this leg until the Hummer slipped back onto a major thoroughfare inside Canada. At that point, the Piper peeled off so that it could refuel. The unmarked cars led by Derrick and Dakota picked up the trail from there.
Since they were out of their jurisdiction, they trailed Sherman in the accompaniment of a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. Sherman led them to a parking garage located in downtown Vancouver B.C. The location was quickly relayed to RCMP officials who were asked to wait for Sherman’s departure before raiding the location. The last thing Dakota wanted was for the Canadians to barge in before the exchange could take place. Extraditing Sherman would be a major pain in the ass.
Apparently Sherman and his contact (or contacts) were very adept in this exchange. Less than ten minutes elapsed when Sherman emerged from the garage. Dakota quickly relayed the go-ahead for the Canadians to proceed with their end of the bust. After bidding farewell and good-luck to their RCMP rider, Dakota signaled his surveillance team that the suspect was returning. This time however, things would operate a little differently.
***
At about one o’clock in the morning, Sherman pulled into a rest area. The news was immediately relayed to Dakota and Derrick who had taken up a position just inside the U.S.-Canadian border. They were set up to apprehend their suspect once it was determined where he would emerge on the U.S. side.
“Maybe he’s got to take a leak,” Dakota radioed back.
“Uh, that’s a negative,” a voice crackled back on the radio, “he appears to be just sitting in the vehicle.”
“Well, just maintain visual contact and keep us advised of anything that occurs, over.”
The two Canadian agents sat in their vehicle staring at the parked Hummer waiting for something to happen. What could this Sherman fellow be waiting for? Had he caught on? The answer came about fifteen minutes later.
“Hunter, this is Bloodhound Six, come in, over,” the radio squawked, startling Dakota.
Derrick grabbed the mike, “Go ahead Six.”
“Hunter, we’ve got an interesting situation. A big car-carrier rig has just pulled in. They appear to be loading up the Hummer, over.”
“You want to run that by me again!” Derrick replied, not sure he had heard the report correctly.
“I said, they’re loading the Hummer onto a car transport rig,” Bloodhound six repeated.
“Shit!” Derrick muttered. He keyed the mike again, “Maintain surveillance, Bloodhound Six. Inform us as soon as they roll out, over.”
A moment later the radio came to life again. “Hunter, I have an update you’re gonna want to hear,” Bloodhound Six announced. “Man, these guys’ve got it together.”
“Just give the report and save the commentary,” Derrick snapped.
“They have off-loaded a second Hummer identical to the first. They are currently switching the plates,” Bloodhound Six reported.
“What about the shipment?” Derrick asked.
“It appears to still be aboard the vehicle on the transport rig.”
Dakota quickly pulled out a map of the area, checking any routes that the transport rig might utilize. After conferring with Derrick, he deployed their surveillance teams to the locations that would best allow interception.
“Hunter, this is Bloodhound Six, the switch has been completed. Both contacts are rolling out.”
“Are you certain that they didn’t transfer the drugs?” Derrick asked.
“It doesn’t appear so,” was the reply.
“Thanks for the good work,” Derrick acknowledged.
Within minutes, the directions of the transport rig and the decoy Hummer was determined. Dakota assigned the Piper to maintain contact with the Hummer, while ground teams kept an eye on the transport rig. Considering its size, the semi would need to stay on the major highways. The transport rig proved to be relatively easy to follow as it circled around in a southwestern arc towards Utah.
Sherman did little to mask his movements as he cut through Idaho and into Oregon. He stayed on Interstate 8, and then switched to I-5 at Portland. From there he made a bee-line straight to Seattle.
He pulled into the Pennington lot early Wednesday afternoon. Less than four hours later, the transport rig arrived. Dakota and Derrick had already set up surveillance early that same morning, choosing to observe the arrivals personally.
They watched as the original Hummer was off-loaded. Afterwards, the decoy was reloaded along with two other vehicles that sat beside the garage adjoining what could only be the office.
Upon completion of this obviously well-oiled evolution, Brian Sherman, along with a man Dakota identified as Marty Pennington from DEA photographs, disappeared into the office. Meanwhile, a mechanic pulled the original Hummer into the garage, pulling the door down behind him to keep out prying eyes.
Ten minutes passed as Derrick and Dakota waited anxiously for any sign of activity. Finally, the mechanic emerged from the garage and strolled casually to the office. The garage’s roll-down door remained partially open, allowing for an only slightly obstructed view of the Hummer inside.
Derrick produced his field glasses and took a look. “Well, what do you know,” he passed the binoculars over to Dakota.
Dakota took a look. There sat the Hummer, the driver’s side door propped against the body of the vehicle. Also, the driver’s seat had been removed.
Another half an hour elapsed with no further activity. Derrick radioed back to Captain Bell that everything so far seemed to substantiate their suspicions. He informed the captain that they would hold their position until Pennington was alone before making the bust. Captain Bell approved, informing them that Brian Sherman’s residence was staked out. Warrants for the arrest of both Pennington and Sherman were already complete, along with the appropriate search warrants for the two locations.
“No mistakes, boys.ad, he climbed into a gray Mercedes. If he was indeed en route to make his deliveries, then he wasn’t conforming to the story Nonsa gave them. Both men watched as the Mercedes turned onto an access ramp that led to I-405.
Another minute later, Pennington exited the office with the mechanic. There was a brief exchange of words between the two, a handshake, then Pennington proceeded to a red Corvette. They both noticed a metal box that Pennington carried tucked under one arm. Pennington placed the box in the car, climbed in, and drove off. Meanwhile, the mechanic busied himself with locking up the office and garage.
“What do we do?” Dakota asked.
“We follow Pennington,” Derrick replied. “He’s our man. We can nab the John Doe mechanic later if need be.” in the car, climbed in, and drove off. Meanwhile, the mechanic busied himself with locking up the office and garage.
“What do we do?” Dakota asked.
“We follow Pennington,” Derrick replied. “He’s our man. We can nab the John Doe mechanic later if need be.”
Dakota started the engine of the car they had spent the last two days in and took off after their suspect. He managed to keep three cars between Pennington and themselves as they followed their quarry towards I-5. Once on the interstate, maintaining contact became more difficult. Rush hour was in full swing causing Dakota to fall as many as five cars behind at times.
Once they approached Seattle’s City Center, Pennington exited. His route made it likely that the ferry terminal was his destination. It was in the downtown chaos that Pennington managed to elude them. A red light brought the car in front of Dakota to a halt, they watched helplessly as the red Corvette pulled away.
By the time they managed to continue pursuit, Pennington had disappeared from sight. Dakota crossed his fingers and hoped their assumption about the ferry terminals being the ultimate
destination was a correct one. They slowly crept along in the bumper-to-bumper gridlock that plagued downtown Seattle’s rush hour.
Eventually they rounded the corner. The terminal came into view, but their dread was confirmed as they watched the ferry pull away from the pier. As it broke out into open water, they spied Marty Pennington’s red Corvette in the car bay.
“Dammit!” Dakota pounded the steering wheel.
Derrick radioed back to Captain Bell with the bad news as they moved in line for the next ferry. Thirty minutes later, they were on the trail again proceeding to the address that belonged to Pennington. By the time they arrived, an hour had elapsed. Pulling up to the house, they saw no sign of the red Corvette. A quick check of the residence revealed that Pennington was not there.
“Now what?” Dakota turned to his grim-faced partner.
“I say we get on the horn and get a unit out here to keep an eye on the place. We go back to the car lot and wait to see who shows up,” Derrick decided.
They drove back to Burien in silence. On the way, Derrick pulled a duffel bag into the front seat and changed into a pair of worn out coveralls. Once they reached their destination, Dakota pulled out another bag from the back and changed as well.
The night passed with no activity. Word came that the situation at the Pennington house likewise was proving to be a bust. As morning came and went, Dakota could feel the frustration building. They continued to wait. Sooner or later, someone would have to show up.
In the years that he had been partners with Derrick, Dakota had learned a lot. The first lesson had been the hardest.
“Be patient,” Derrick had said, “these guys ain’t rocket scientists. Eventually they make a mistake. Our job is to be there when they do.”
Right now, Dakota found little consolation in those words.
