Without Measure: A Jack Widow Thriller

by Scott Blade

Kelly said, “Widow, don’t make her ask again. Turn around.”

  Kelly continued to use a stern cop voice and expression, but he never yelled. His voice never went above a professional octave. They were good.

  I rose up off the bed, slowly. Kept my hands visible. I didn’t want to turn, but by the look in Kelly’s eyes, he’d shoot first and ask questions later. No doubt about it. Between getting shot and arrested, I had a clear choice.

  I turned and placed my hands on my head, which I assumed was the next command. Romey stepped forward and circled around behind me. She grabbed my right hand and pulled it back behind me. Then I heard the second worst sound that I hated to hear when someone was behind me, the metal clanging of handcuffs. The first worst sound I hated to hear was the crunch of a shotgun. This was better. At least that’s what I thought at the time.

  CHAPTER 6

  ROMEY AND KELLY sat me down on the bed and holstered their M9 Berettas. Romey stood about four feet from me, leaned to one side, rested her hand on her gun. Up close and even in her uniform, she looked like she spent eight hours a day working in the field and two hours in the fitness center on base after. I doubted she had much of a social life with that kind of dedication.

  Kelly looked like he stayed in shape, but rarely visited the gym for more than thirty minutes. In my experience, guys in the gym are there to pack on muscle as much as get stronger. He didn’t have much meat on his bones to make a lot of muscle. I guessed his weekly regimen probably consisted of just enough to get stronger, with little effort in aesthetics. Nothing wrong with that. But Romey was spending extra time on her fitness. I wondered if she competed professionally. If she didn’t, then she should’ve.

  “What the hell is going on?” I asked again. I was starting to feel like a broken record.

  They didn’t answer me.

  Kelly said, “I’m gonna put your shoes on for you. Don’t fight back or we’ll have to make this less comfortable. Got it?”

  I just nodded. This wasn’t how to get on my good side.

  Kelly grabbed my boots and ignored my socks. He pulled them over and kneeled in front of me. He lifted my foot and shoved the boot on like a guy putting a shoe on a horse, only the guy hated the horse. First, he did the right and then the left. He stood up and said, “Come on.”

  He grabbed under my right arm and pulled me up to my feet. I said, “I gotta say, guys, this feels a lot like a violation of my civil rights. Not to mention wrongful arrest.”

  Kelly said, “It’s not wrongful.”

  “How you figure that?”

  “We came here. Asked you to cooperate. You resisted.”

  “I didn’t resist. I invited you in.”

  Romey said, “You refused to come with us and kept pushing for answers.”

  “So?”

  Kelly said, “So, it’s our job to ask you questions.”

  I stayed quiet.

  “You got a shirt?”

  I nodded and said, “How you expect me to put it on in cuffs?”

  “I didn’t ask you to put it on. I asked you if you got one”

  I pointed my head in the direction of the chair and said, “It’s under the jacket.”

  Kelly nodded, let go of my arm and walked over to the chair. He scooped up the jacket and T-shirt. He sifted through it and separated my shirt from my jacket. He went into the pockets and came out with my passport and debit card. He said, “You really are nobody.”

  Romey said, “What?”

  “He’s only got a passport and debit card. Nothing else.”

  I nodded.

  Romey said, “Take it all.”

  Kelly put everything back into my jacket pocket and tossed the jacket around me like he was doing me a favor.

  I said, “Don’t you think you should put my shirt on as well? It’s cold outside. I could catch a cold. You could get involved in a lawsuit.”

  Romey said, “There’s heat in the car.”

  Kelly jerked me and led me out of the room and into the hall.

  We left the motel and entered the parking lot. It was still early in the morning. I was guessing it was around nine, but wasn’t sure. I saw no sun in the sky, just the overcast—gray and dreary.

  They came in a new Ford Mustang, black police car with Military Police scrolled on the side in big, white block letters. It came with a top-of-the-line police tactical package. It was all tires and steel where it counted.

  They took me around to the back and shoved me in, nothing gentle about Kelly’s treatment, but not quite unprofessional either. I hadn’t broken any laws or given them any reason to use force, not that I was aware of. I could’ve kicked up dirt and made a fuss with lawyers and complaints, but what good would that do me now or in the future? I went along.

  CHAPTER 7

  WE DROVE in silence. They took me out of downtown, no sirens or lights. We drove the speed limit, back to the highway and then headed north, out of downtown. Once we were a good few miles away from the locals, Romey accelerated and we hit about five miles over the speed limit. I stared out the window.

  I wanted to sleep.

  The terrain was thick and green. It contrasted heavily with the gray sky overhead. The road was smooth. I saw a sign that said we were headed exactly where I suspected, Arrow’s Peak Marine Base. The sign said it was another five miles ahead for a grand total of about ten miles from downtown Hamber.

  We drove on in more silence, except for ambient chatter from their police radio.

  Finally, I leaned forward and said, “Please tell me what this is about.”

  Kelly said, “You said it already. It’s about your friend.”

  “I don’t have a friend here. I told you. I’m just passing through. Don’t know anyone.”

  “Then how do you know Turik?”

  Romey said, “Wait till we’re there.”

  “I don’t know Turik.”

  Kelly obeyed Romey’s orders and didn’t respond.

  We rounded a bend; overhung trees and high grass covered both sides of the road. The blacktop turned to a two-lane and the shoulders vanished. I saw another sign saying: Arrow’s Peak Marine Base.

  There was a huge opening, where trees had been cut down and plowed away. I saw the base. The road parted into two directions. One went off to the east and looked abandoned. The blacktop didn’t follow it. The second branch of the road headed onto the base.

  There was a guard shack, small but made of brick. There was one way in and one way out. The guard shack stood under a large brick shelter with overhangs protecting the area underneath from rain.

  Inside the shack, I saw two MPs, one for exiting traffic and one for incoming traffic. Not unheard of to have a guard posted on the exit side, but not customary for them to be there either. They normally aren’t stopping cars that are leaving.

  There was also a huge barrier set up that incoming cars had to slow and zigzag around. All of that was normal about the entrance, but this base did have something completely unusual except during times of heightened alertness, like war time, or terrorist attacks. That was the four armed guards that stood on opposite sides of the road. Four MPs in full body armor and helmets and armed to the teeth. They had M16s, down and ready. They looked like good sentries, like they should be guarding Marine One and not some obscure Marine training base in the California mountains.

  We drove slowly around the barriers. Romey decelerated and came to a full stop at the guard shack. The MP stepped out. He was also in full body armor, helmet, and armed with an M16, which he kept pointed at the ground. He saluted our vehicle.

  The MP had a distinctive face. It was rugged with a boxer’s nose, closer to a snout than a nose. He was bigger than your average MP. He was bigger than me. I was 6’4”, but pretty lean. I didn’t know my weight, not precisely. I guessed it was somewhere between two hundred and two hundred thirty pounds. I’d given up days in the gym and long SEAL training sessions. I was lean because I walked every day and I walked a lot. The extra weight I cared was solid
muscle.

  Romey rolled down the window, flashed a badge and stared up at the MP. She saluted and said, “Let us in.”

  The MP recognized her immediately and hopped to it. He said, “Yes, ma’am.”

  He stepped back into the shack, hit a button, and a white, metal arm ascended. Romey said, “Thanks.”

  The MP gave me a look, like he knew me. He stared at me with content on his face. I’d seen it before. It was like he was blaming me for something, but I had no idea what.

  Romey accelerated and we were through the gate.

  The base was spread out. There were buildings neatly scattered around. Multiple streets snaked in different directions. Military bases were often like little cities. This one wasn’t anything special. Average size. Average setup. I was surprised about it being as big as it was, but not shocked. The military liked small, out-of-the-way towns. Easier to keep bases away from public interference when they were stationed in the middle of nowhere.

  We turned right and two minutes later stopped at a four-way stop, and then took a left. Romey followed the speed limits and made full stops at the stop signs.

  I looked around, studied the buildings. Some were clearly marked and others weren’t. The highest were the four-story buildings, which I gathered to be dorms for the enlisted. Most of them were grouped together in a square shape with a large, grassy field between them. At the center was a huge flagpole holding an American flag. It had a large rounded cement area at the bottom with benches around the pole.

  The flag was at half-mast. Which told me that my visit here was more serious than I had thought. I had mentioned Turik, the guy from the diner. I didn’t know him. But they thought I did. What the hell did he do? I thought, even though I had a suspicion.

  After we entered the base, there was something obvious and disturbing that I couldn’t stop noticing. It was everywhere.

  Instead of speculating, I just asked them. I said, “Where the hell is everyone?”

  CHAPTER 8

  KELLY SAID, “The base is under lockdown. Everyone’s confined to quarters. Officers are confined to the club.”

  I nodded. Something happened here.

  We drove one last street and Romey turned the car into the parking lot of the MP station. The lot was full of the same Ford Mustangs. All military police cars. All with the same tactical police package—front-mounted battering rams, blue light bars, and probably reinforced steel, not that fiberglass crap.

  Romey parked the car at the first space that was nearest to the entrance ramp. There was a white sign that designated it her spot. It read: MAJ Romey. She said, “Let’s go.”

  They got out and opened my door. Kelly pulled me out. He was less aggressive this time around. I supposed because he saw that I was cooperating, not that I had much choice.

  “Go up the ramp. Follow Romey in,” Kelly said. He shoved me, gently like he was herding me in the direction that he wanted me to go. I complied and stepped out in front of him.

  They hauled me into the MP station. We entered through the front entrance, which was a good sign to me. They didn’t pull me through the rear entrance, which was normally designated for customers. Which is the terminology for people going to booking and then to jail. At least it was in my circles. When an MP brings in criminals due for arrest and a night in jail, they were called customers. Even though I was in handcuffs, they were considering me either a witness or a person of interest. Either way, I was going to disappoint them. Maybe I could be out of this mess in a few hours and then back in my room. Back to sleep.

  The entrance to the station thrusted us into a long hall with several glass doors that went to different departments. But before we could enter, there was a metal detector station and two armed guards. They didn’t wear helmets, but every other stitch of gear was just like the sentries outside the guard shack—armored vests and M16s, which were more for show of force than for practicality because the hall and space were too narrow to make use of an assault rifle efficiently in guarding the station against attack. I assumed that the MPs were completely aware of this and their first choice of weapon was going to be the M9s holstered at their sides.

  The walls were generic gray, with white tile floors. Everything was clean and tidy.

  Romey nodded at the MPs, who saluted and skirted us through. Romey grabbed my arm for the first time and tugged me behind her. Her hands were cold, but soft. Probably the only soft part on her. I followed her through the metal detector. It beeped twice as we passed through.

  She released my arm and I followed her down the hall. She stopped and stared through a glass partition at a desk sergeant, a black woman, who was maybe six months pregnant, the second woman that I had seen pregnant that day. She had quite the baby bump. So far, she’d been the only Marine that I had seen who didn’t have a look of death on their face. She had a glow about her, but she didn’t smile. It was just a natural thing like how some people are more inviting then others. She avoided eye contact with me, but smiled at Romey. She buzzed us into a metal door and we passed through.

  I was still carrying my jacket, draped over my back.

  On the other side of the door was a series of rooms in an open floorplan. It appeared that the first room was a recordkeeping department or something to do with computers. There was a room full of uniformed personnel, all busy at their desks.

  We walked past them and through the second area, which was more conventional to police work. I saw what looked like special investigators combing over their cases or over the same case. They were prying through internet pages and files.

  Romey led me into a third area with a set of two doors, an interrogation area.

  We went in. The room was small, but classic and optimal. In the center was a table, with two chairs on either side. A thick file was on the center of the table. It was closed. The north wall even had a medium-sized mirror, which I guessed was a one-way like in the movies.

  “Stop,” Kelly said. He spun me around and pulled out his keys. He undid my cuffs and said, “Don’t cause any problems. Got it?”

  I stayed quiet, didn’t respond, and didn’t nod in agreement, either.

  Kelly took the cuffs back and handed me my T-shirt, which I slipped on and then my jacket over it. I dumped myself down on the chair that I expected was meant for me, the hot seat. I said, “Better offer me some coffee.”

  Kelly said, “We’re not offering you shit!”

  Romey said, “Joe, get him some coffee.” And then she swiveled her head and looked at me. She asked, “How do you take it?”

  “Black. No sugar. No milk.”

  Kelly looked at Romey and she nodded and then she said, “Bring two.”

  He nodded back and left the room, leaving us alone. He didn’t even bat an eye at leaving her alone with me. Which I suspected was either because he was reckless or we weren’t alone. I looked at the one-way mirror and said, “How many guys back there?”

  She looked at me in the glass, made eye contact and asked, “What makes you think they’re men?”

  I nodded, said, “So this is good cop, bad cop?”

  She shook her head, said, “No, Widow. Nothing like that. We just wanna ask you some questions. Kelly’s always like that. He’s an on-edge type of guy.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m more levelheaded.”

  I nodded and got a little annoyed, which I hadn’t meant to, but I spoke first anyway. I said, “Let’s get something straight. I don’t know you. You don’t know me. I don’t even know why I’m here. And I’m tired. So, get on with it.”

  “Okay, Widow. Tell me about Turik,” Romey said. She pulled the chair out across from me and sat down. She didn’t sit in the way that most women did. She didn’t sit with her back straight, in good posture like I’d seen most women in high-ranking positions do before. She sat more like she was lounging, like a guy does. It was different. It was not illicit or insolent, just noteworthy.

  I paused.

  She said, “Go on.
”

  “There’s nothing to tell. I don’t know him.”

  “You mentioned him.”

  “Sorry, I don’t know him.”

  Silence fell between us for a long moment. I don’t think she was lost for words. I think she was waiting for Kelly to return, which she had been. The doorknob turned and the door opened, slowly like Kelly was making sure that no one was on the other side of it. And then the door was kicked open, gently with the toes of Kelly’s boot. He had his hands full with two piping hot cups of coffee. He didn’t have paper cups like I expected. He had two coffee mugs from their breakroom. Both were white with no markings.

  He set mine down in front of me. I stared at it. I wasn’t sure if I should take it or not. Not because I suspected there was a hidden agenda behind the coffee, like they were going to take it and test it for my DNA or anything like that. I had nothing to hide. I simply didn’t trust it, like second nature to be distrusting of two uniformed MPs who haul you in when you have no idea what it’s about.

  I took a sip from the coffee. It was okay—not good, not bad, but serviceable.

  Kelly walked over to the opposite wall, next to the mirror, and leaned against it, to one side. This was a move I’d seen before. He was leaning near the mirror so that when he asked me questions, I’d stare in that direction. It was so the camera and the suits on the other side of the mirror could get a clear view of my face. Everything is about tactics—a Marine’s life.

  Finally, I repeated, “I don’t know Turik.”

  Romey cleared her throat and opened the file. She said, “Captain James Muhammad Turik was a decorated officer in the United States Marine Corps. He was a lifer. Nearly twenty years of flawless service with only one citation in his record for misconduct and that was over five years ago.”

  She paused and looked up at me like I was supposed to add something more to her story.

  She continued, “Captain Turik was born in Houston, Texas, in 1971 to Ali and Medina Turik, who were a pair of refugees from Turkey, but originally from Iran. They migrated to the US when they were children. Turik had three sisters, no brothers. Two sisters are married and living in Texas. The youngest changed her name, but is unmarried. She is a teacher and, ironically, a well-known advocate against Islam. She works at UC Berkeley. We looked her up because the changing of her name was interesting. She’s got quite the story.