by Craig Hurren
“It’s me. I need to get a package to you for safe keeping. I’m getting very close to exposing Devlin and I need some insurance.”
He listened intently and acknowledged the instructions from the man on the other end of the phone then hung up. The copier finished its work and Matt tucked the original documents into a manila envelope and sealed it. He took the photocopies and inserted them into a binding folder and put them into his briefcase then locked his office and briskly left the building.
Arriving at his destination, he looked nervously around the large bus station for the lockers he was told to find. Spotting them in the far corner of the terminal, Matt composed himself and waded through the sea of people that filled the building. He found the locker number as instructed, placed the manila folder full of originals inside, inserted some coins and turned the key to lock it. Shoving the key in his pocket, he then proceeded to the men’s room around the corner, checked the stalls for occupants and entered the last stall to find the false ceiling tiles as described in his phone conversation. Standing on the toilet, he lifted the middle tile and placed the locker key inside, an inch to his left then dropped the tile back into place. He waited a moment in case anyone else had entered the room then flushed the toilet, washed his hands and left the terminal. Relieved in the knowledge that such vital evidence would soon be in very safe and capable hands, Matt left the building, flagged down a taxi and headed for home. He wanted to be fully prepared for his lunch meeting with the congressman the next day and also needed some well earned sleep before making the four hour drive to Washington.
Unknown to Matt, a pair of steely blue eyes followed and observed him from the upper floor of the bus terminal. These wise, knowing eyes which had seen so many things people should never have to, were set in a lean, chiseled face with a strong jaw line. He was handsome but for a deep, ugly scar running from his forehead to the middle of his right cheek. Standing six feet one inch, he was tall but not obviously so and had a lean but powerful frame developed through a life of elite military service and over two decades chasing perfection in a number of different martial arts. Jake Riley, as he was known, watched to ensure that Matt Lewis hadn’t been followed and no one suspicious entered the men’s room after he left. Once fully satisfied that Matt’s movements had gone unnoticed and no one had followed him, Riley pushed himself away from the railing and started down the stairs to the main terminal area.
Walking through the crowded room, his highly trained eyes searched for anything out of the ordinary until entering the men’s room to retrieve the locker key from its hiding place. He then moved to the locker, opened it and folded the manila envelope into the inside pocket of his jacket. With one last visual sweep of the terminal, he stealthily disappeared into the crowd.
*****
At his modest but tasteful Washington apartment, Private First Class Damien Fraser of the United States Capitol Police sat on a chair in his bedroom, polishing his shoes. Following his daily regime, he had risen at five thirty in the morning and gone for a half hour run then returned to his home to do three sets of fifty pushups, three sets of twenty chin-ups and eat breakfast. After showering, he set out his crisply pressed shirt and suit then got out the shoe polish and brush. He was a former Marine who took pride in his professional appearance and enjoyed the reliability of a good routine. Damien had joined the US Capitol Police right after his military service ended and his experience as a Marine had allowed him to breeze through police training. He had served in several different areas of the Capitol Police since graduating and been promoted to Private First class in record time. Since being assigned to congressional protection, PFC Fraser had proven his worth protecting junior members for two years before being assigned to protect senior Congressman Stewart Taylor. He enjoyed his job and considered Taylor an honorable man who was firm but fair and in many ways reminded Damien of his favorite sergeant in the Marines.
Congressman Taylor had made a name for himself as a man of action in Washington. He was a very experienced representative who had successfully headed many committees and sub-committees investigating cases of corruption, fraud, antitrust and other serious matters. The vast majority of his constituents genuinely liked him and he consistently won reelection by a wide margin. His skills and capabilities were very well respected in most political circles and feared by anyone who had something to hide. Taylor’s hand-picked staff members were the best in the business and through their skills, experience, mutual respect and trust, operated as a well-oiled machine. He had assembled the brightest researchers, investigators and legal minds available into a highly effective and cohesive unit. Any organization or individual who came under their scrutiny had very good reason to fear swift and decisive justice.
The congressman’s long time friend and ally, Matt Lewis had put Devlin Industries onto his radar during a phone call a few days earlier and aside from the obvious potential antitrust case against the company, Matt had alluded to more sinister activities which he wanted to discuss in person. He had asked Taylor not to mention anything about the matters to his team until after they met and went over the mounting evidence together. Taylor honored Matt’s request and was intrigued to see what his very competent and determined friend was getting his teeth into. Their meeting was set for twelve thirty in the afternoon and to maximize their time, the congressman had ordered lunch to be catered in his meeting room.
It was nine in the morning when he arrived at his office, his two US Capitol protection officers in tow. He had at first considered the precaution unnecessary and restrictive but had quickly changed his mind a few months later, when Officer Damien Fraser had prevented a deranged stalker from stabbing him. He had already warmed to Fraser before the event despite his initial feelings about the security detail but after the attack, his respect and appreciation of the former Marine rose to a whole new level.
“Good morning Rita.” he called out to his personal secretary as he entered his outer office.
“Good morning congressman. Your coffee is on your desk along with the Post, the Times, and the Journal. There is nothing particularly remarkable in the newspapers so I’ve set the documents that require your signature up as your first order of business before your ten o’clock with the union people and the meeting room is prepared for your twelve thirty with Mr. Lewis. You’ve also got a conference call with the Mayor at eleven thirty.”
“Thank you Rita - I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“It’s a good thing you don’t need to think about that, there’s no room for it in your schedule.” Rita said with a wry grin.
The congressman smiled playfully, “I wish you could teach my wife some of your famous organizational skills.”
“And I wish your wife would teach me some of her famous cooking skills. Please thank her again for the banana muffins; they were delicious.”
“I’ll do that. Hold my calls until after nine thirty Rita.”
Damien Fraser opened the heavy oak door to the inner office, his eyes gave the room a once over and he nodded approval. Taylor walked into his office, sat at his desk and took a long draw of his coffee then looked down at the pile of unsigned documents. He picked up his pen to make a start as Fraser and his partner, George Geoffrey exchanged a few words before closing the door with Geoffrey remaining outside and Fraser taking up his post inside.
“Do please have a seat Damien.” Congressman Taylor called across the large room. “You can’t stand there all day.”
“Thank you sir but I’m happy to stand for now.”
“Suit yourself but it’s going to be a long day.”
“That’s why they pay me the big bucks sir.” Damien said dryly.
Amused by Fraser’s humor but also genuinely concerned, Taylor replied, “From my point of view, they could triple your salary and it wouldn’t come close to enough.”
“Thank you sir but money isn’t everything.”
“Indeed not Damien. Indeed not.”
With that, the co
ngressman got on with his work and the day progressed as scheduled with Rita Hill’s stern hand ensuring punctuality was strictly adhered to. As the time neared twelve fifteen, Damien Fraser excused himself to do a quick sweep of the congressman’s meeting room. As he opened the office door and walked out, he absent mindedly scratched at the back of his neck and informed Geoffrey of the sweep.
Fraser exited the outer office and proceeded a short way down the hall to Taylor’s meeting room. It was used by other members from time to time as needed but was designated as Taylor’s due to his seniority and high volume of meetings. It was standard protocol to sweep the room before each meeting because of its shared nature. Damien held his pocket sized digital bug detector out and began his sweep. After checking all possible bugging sites, he went to the window and made sure the locking mechanisms were secure then left the room. There were two deadbolt locks on the door. One was for the use of other members and their staff and the other required a unique key that was only available to Congressman Taylor, his personal secretary, and the head of his security detail. Fraser pulled his key out and locked the door to ensure no one else entered between his sweep and the twelve thirty meeting. He then returned to Taylor’s outer office where Matt Lewis was now seated, waiting for his meeting with Taylor. Fraser knew Lewis from his many previous meetings with the congressman and greeted him.
“Good afternoon Mr. Lewis. Right on time as usual, I see.”
“Punctuality means respect.”
“Excuse me while I see if Congressman Taylor is ready for you.”
Fraser knocked on the door of the inner office, paused a moment then entered and informed Taylor of Lewis’ arrival.
“Send him in please.” he said without looking up.
“Yes sir and the meeting room is all clear when you’re ready.”
“Thank you Damien, we’ll be out in a moment.”
“Please go in Mr. Lewis.” Fraser said, motioning to the office.
“Thanks. Rita; any chance I could have one of your excellent cappuccinos, please?”
“Of course Matt, I’ll bring it to the meeting room with your lunch shortly.”
“Great; thanks.”
Lewis entered Taylor’s office and greeted him warmly. Taylor busily finished up his notes from the previous meeting and stood to shake his old friend’s hand.
“Great to see you Matt; it’s been a while. You must have been very busy to stay away from Capitol Hill this long.”
“Hi Stewart; great to see you too. Sorry it’s been longer than usual but I’ve been really tied up with this Devlin Industries thing.”
“I understand but let’s not talk here. Lunch should be ready in a minute and the meeting room has already been swept so let’s walk down, shall we?”
The two friends walked through the outer office with Damien Fraser leading the way and George Geoffrey following behind. As they reached the meeting room door, Fraser unlocked the congressman’s dedicated deadbolt and opened the door for them to enter. Just as Lewis and Taylor sat down at the meeting table, Fraser’s demeanor suddenly and dramatically changed.
“Gun!” he shouted as he drew his own weapon and shot both men dead in their chairs.
Officer Geoffrey’s face dropped in disbelief as his mind struggled to process the surreal event he had witnessed. In a split second, his instincts, training, and experience took over and he drew his Glock 45, shouting at Fraser to drop his weapon. Fraser turned toward him and began to raise his gun when Geoffrey squeezed his trigger three times in quick succession and Fraser slumped to the floor, blood gurgling from his mouth. Damien looked up at his partner in complete confusion.
“Why?” he asked with his final breath.
Geoffrey was shocked and confused. His mind couldn’t make sense of what just happened. Not only had his trusted partner just murdered his own protectee and a civilian friendly but he seemed surprised and confused that Geoffrey had then shot him. This made no sense whatsoever. He stood, gun in hand as his mind tried to assimilate the event. Rita came running from the congressman’s office without fear for her own safety.
“What are you doing Officer Geoffrey? What happened?”
Arriving at the meeting room door, her eyes widened and her jaw dropped in disbelief. She looked at Geoffrey then down at Fraser and bent to shake the dead man.
“Officer Fraser? Damien?”
Rita realized in horror that Fraser was dead then looked up to see Matt Lewis and Congressman Taylor slumped in their chairs, each with a single bullet hole in their foreheads. A sound began to emanate from within her. At first, it started as a low guttural groan then picked up and grew into a despairing wail of disbelief as she walked, hunched over to Taylor’s lifeless body. By this time, several uniformed US Capitol Police Officers had come running after hearing the shots, their guns drawn and trained on Officer Geoffrey.
“Drop it! Put your hands behind your head!” one of them ordered.
Geoffrey; still stunned by the event, robotically obeyed the instruction and his gun fell from his loosely hanging arm as he sunk to his knees. As though in a trance, his face was devoid of expression while he slowly laced his fingers behind his head. An officer quickly cuffed his hands behind his back then pushed him roughly against the wall. Another uniformed officer checked Fraser’s body for signs of life while two more went into the meeting room, guns still at the ready. Once they realized the room was clear, one of them had to physically remove Rita from the body of her beloved boss. She was hysterical by now. Tears streamed from her eyes like rivulets, drawing dark lines of mascara down her cheeks and she wailed plaintively in denial of the reality before her.
At the end of the hallway, a small man with sharp features and gloved hands pulled a cell phone from the pocket of his overcoat and dialed a number.
“It’s done.” was all he said before turning to walk down the stairs.
Chapter 6
Alan arrived at the police station in Columbus to make some calls and arrange to interview Helen Benson’s coworkers at Blue Sky Biotech. Entering the office of Homicide Investigations, a strange feeling struck him. The usual cacophony of voices and sounds that normally filled the room was gone. The only noise was that of ringing telephones going unanswered. He looked up and glanced around the office for any sign of life but there was no one there. Lieutenant Walker’s office was vacant and even the coffee room was devoid of any people. He went back into the hallway and heard voices coming from the briefing room down the hall. Following the sound, he found Lieutenant Walker and the entire squad of detectives gathered around the large television staring intently, some speaking quietly to each other as they watched dumbfounded. Wary of entering the roomful of detectives who so often gave him grief, Alan stood in the doorway and focused on the television, trying to understand what was happening.
“Details are sketchy but we are able to confirm that Congressman Stewart Taylor and well known consumer rights advocate Matt Lewis have been murdered here at the Capitol Building in Washington.” the reporter’s voice wavered with emotion.
The station cut back to the news anchor who presented some background on Congressman Taylor’s history and achievements as voices in the police briefing room began to grow in volume. Lieutenant Walker looked over at Alan and cocked his head in the direction of his office. Beach obeyed his silent gesture, went back to Walker’s office before any of the other detectives noticed his presence and was already seated in front of his lieutenant’s desk when he came in. Walker’s eyes held the look of futility they would often get when society threw up such an affront to civility. While his many years on the force had hardened him to most acts people perpetrated against each other, he was not completely impervious and an event of such magnitude was capable of piercing his armor.
“They’re keeping some information from the press.” he said softly. “Don’t go spreading this around but my buddy with the Capitol Police says one of Taylor’s bodyguards went nuts and shot them both before his partner killed h
im.”
“Unbelievable!” Alan responded with a shocked look.
“Yeah, former US Marine with a perfect service record too. Just doesn’t make any sense.”
“Are you OK boss?”
“Don’t go getting all psychoanalytical on me Beach.” his usual gruff demeanor returned. “Just because you visited a nut house, doesn’t mean you can examine my head!”
Alan gave Walker a crooked smile, “I wouldn’t dare lieutenant.”
“See now there ya go being a smartass again. Quit screwing around and tell me about this Adler guy.”
Alan explained the events at Sherbourne and told Walker that there was no way Adler could have gotten past their security. Walker listened intently then asked about the possibility of a copycat.
“Well, it’s possible but I’m confident that if it was a copycat, it wasn’t some kind of fan directly influenced by Adler. He’s too arrogant to communicate with what he referred to as, ‘lifeless trolls’ and ‘vacuous scum’. His ego is quite different to some of the famous serial killers and it seems he will only entertain people he considers intellectually worthy of his attention.”
“Freak thinks he’s a rocket scientist, huh?”
“He’s surprisingly intelligent, as many psychopaths are but this one is particularly clever. He has unusually efficient powers of deduction and he used them to play me for a fool - purely to get his kicks. Anyway, I don’t think Adler really enters the picture in this case. I need to work with what I’ve got: the man in the elevator, the mark on the back of the victim’s neck, and the fact that there was no forced entry at the Benson home.”
“So your next move is to talk to her employer?”
“Yes, I’ve come in to set up appointments with the relevant people at Blue Sky Biotech. They work on some serious cutting edge technology so I don’t know how accessible they’ll be. I might need to call on your influence at some point.”
