Contents
On the ropes
With the absence of manpower, Chief Hogan spent more time at Susan’s murder scene than he had anticipated. The coroner had bagged up the victim’s body and headed for the morgue to carry out the post mortem, and SOC were just loading up their van.
“You finished now?” Hogan asked Jeff.
“Yeah, all done. Nothing in the way of forensics I’m afraid. They’ve been busy tonight.”
“What do you mean ‘they’?”
“This one can’t be the work of the guy in the hospital. Unless...”
“Unless what?”
“I shouldn’t joke under the circumstances. I was just going to say, unless he’s had an out of body experience on the operating table.”
“Yeah, that’s what bugs me. I’m working on the possibility the father set it up at the last scene. He’s gone missing. They’re still searching the hospital with Special Agent Hammond in charge. I think they’re wasting their time. He’s long gone.”
“The father did you say?”
“Yeah, you remember, that guy who needed the bathroom on the threat of ‘pebble dashing’ your van.”
Jeff was just about to put his forensics case in the wagon, when he stopped and turned to Hogan.
“That’s him!”
“What do you mean?”
“I saw the guy. He was here. There was a detective leaving the scene when I arrived, and he left in a police car.”
“What detective?”
“That’s the point; it wasn’t a detective. It was that guy from the van, the father. I thought he looked familiar. I’m working too hard.”
“Christ almighty, we have him at the scene, hallelujah!” said Hogan. He called Hammond on his cell phone. “Call the search off and get everyone on the road. Jamie’s been identified at the scene of the latest murder.”
“Damn it, Hogan, what did I tell you? Organize an APB and I’ll alert all the airport and port authorities.”
“You’d better have the uniformed guards at the hospital check their vehicles. He’s driving a freakin` police car! Can you believe that shit? He’ll be able to monitor our radio calls. I’ll have to arrange an APB through ops using cell phones and word of mouth. I’m heading back to the station, and I’ll meet you there.”
Hogan took off. His vision was blurry from sheer exhaustion. He dialed Frank. “Frank, are you at the station?”
“No, do you want me down there?”
“Right away and pick Joe up on your way.”
“On my way, Chief.”
Hogan pulled his car over to gather his thoughts and called Hammond back.
“As soon as you find out which car is missing, contact me with the number and I can scramble the helicopters to try and make a visual. It’ll stand out like a sore thumb in the traffic with the huge number on the roof.”
“Yeah, I’m just contacting the guards now. What about calling the media and using their traffic choppers? Not long until rush-hour and we’ll need all the help we can get.”
“Good idea. As soon as you get me the number, I’ll give them a call,” Hogan said.
“Back soon,” said Hammond and the phone disconnected.
***
Hammond gathered the guards and set off down the corridor where they waited for the elevator. The elevator arrived and a doctor bid them “Good morning,” as he walked out. They made their way to the parking lot and one of the guards screamed, “Oh shit!”
“You fool, you didn’t think to lock it?” Hammond sneered.
“Shit I’m in deep trouble,” he said taking off his cap and scratching his head. His partner laughed.
“Thank God my car’s here!”
“Not funny,” he retorted.
“You idiot!” Hammond popped him again. “What the hell is your car number and registration?”
The guard whispered it into his ear hoping to escape any further embarrassment. “Okay, I have it,” Hammond said. “Now get back to your posts.”
“Rodger, on our way,” he replied and they hurried back to the elevator followed by Hammond. The elevator doors opened and they stood back to let the Doctor out with an orderly pushing a patient on a bed-trolley. The Doctor held an oxygen mask over the patient’s face as they hurried away.
“Poor sod, looks like an emergency,” Hammond said.
The guard looked at him and said, “I suppose there’s a worse thing that can happen than having my car stolen.”
Entering the elevator, they made their way back to the Ward and took up their post.
Hammond relayed the car details to Hogan, and called off the search at the hospital. Traffic cops scrambled to get back on duty, and Hammond walked out to his car to head for the station. Driving past the Emergency Room entrance, the scene was bustling with activity. Agent Hammond braked hard, startled by a short blast from a siren and an ambulance passed by him at high speed. He rubbed his eyes, his lack of sleep catching up with him, and he continued to the police station.
As he drove, his mind worked on the case. But with fatigue taking its toll, he struggled to make sense of his thoughts. Jamie obviously had psychological issues the psychiatrist felt would manifest in the future. He had a psychiatrist’s calling card at his home, so maybe he was trying to resolve his problems. Okay, so he was devoid of emotional attachment in his army days, but he has children now. How could any parent arrange to do what he did to his own kids with Bill as an accomplice? The guy has to be a psychopath.
Looking at his watch, he worked out that there were approximately three hours left to nail them both. Steve and Ellie would come out of sedation by then to make a statement against Bill, and Bill’s DNA would be ready by lunchtime. All we have to do is take a statement from the witness at this morning’s murder scene that Jamie was there. Bill’s collaboration isn’t necessary. He wished he could sleep for just three hours to clear his head. This case was so close to the end game, he could taste it. His cell phone rang.
“Agent Hammond, Eric Moody CIA. Sorry if I got you out of bed. I understand that you’ve been sent an army service report on a Jamie Jameson?”
“I wish I was in bed. Sure, I received the file about an hour ago. Looks like you guys have been busy. Half the record is blacked out as Top Secret.”
“Never mind that, I need you at the station with Chief Hogan. I should be there in fifteen minutes.”
“I’m on my way there now. Why’d you want to see me?”
“Sorry, can’t discuss it over the phone. What’s your interest in Jamie Jameson?”
“Sorry, can’t discuss it over the phone. All I know, you could be him.”
“Fair enough, but when you get to the station, don’t discuss this conversation with anyone, not even Chief Hogan.”
“Understood, see you there,” he said ending the call. That’s all I need, CIA on my ass. At the same time, he felt intrigued and stepped on the accelerator.
Contents
Mayhem at the station
Hogan was taking a power-nap at his desk, suddenly woken by a knock on the door.
“You wanted me boss?”
“Err...uhh...yeah. Frank, I just need you and Joe to standby. Some shit’s comin’ down. Looks like we’re nearing the end game on the Crossword Killer. It should hit the fan any minute. I have an APB out for Jamie, and he’s stolen a police car. The birds are in the sky looking for him right now and in two hours the traffic helicopters are going to join in the search.”
“Does that mean I can get my head down?”
“May as well; I intend doing the same. But before you fall into a coma, phone Madge and get her in here.” The door closed as Frank left and Hogan resumed his nap, drifting into a deep slumber, resting his head down on folded arms at his desk. Again, he heard a knock on his door and lifting his head, he saw Jamie Jameson walk right in.
“Come to turn myself in,” said Jamie.
Hogan moved an arm off his desk to reach for his gun. In the blink of an eye, Jamie pu
lled out a gun and aimed it at him. Hogan could see Hammond in the office through the open door. He pulled his gun from under his desk and fired without hesitation. As the bullet hit Jamie, his gun fired also, a bullet hammering Hogan in his shoulder and he blacked out.
“Chief Hogan, Chief Hogan. . .” someone called faintly. With great difficulty, he slowly raised his head.
“For Christ’s sake!” he barked, “it was only a damn dream. What do you want, Frank?”
“Hammond’s here to see you, Chief, and Madge wants to know what to do?”
“Send Agent Hammond in and tell Madge to pick her nose until something happens.”
“Christ you look rough,” remarked Hammond as he walked into Hogan’s office.
“Yeah well you should take a look in the mirror. You look like shit too. Glad to see you’re human. Any developments?”
“No. Just a matter of someone spotting him, unless you know where to look.”
“I think it best we all take a nap.” Hogan yawned. “Need some shut-eye bad. Why don’t you find a comfy chair and inspect the inside of your eyelids?”
“Chief, Internal Affairs to see you,” said Madge sticking her head in the door.
Hogan placed his head in his hands in despair.
“What’s happening to me?” He felt like his brain was going to explode. “FBI, Internal Affairs? Surely, it can’t get any worse,” His telephone rang. “Yes? What is it?”
“The mayor’s on the line.”
Shit!
“Hogan, what the hell are you doing? I’ve just being dragged out of my bed. My switchboard’s going crazy with reports the Crossword Killer’s confessed on You Tube.”
“Unghhh... Probably a prank, sir. Look I haven’t got time for this,” he snorted and slammed down his phone.
“What was that about?” asked Hammond.
“Nothing, probably a prank. Madge, ask Internal Affairs to come in. Agent Hammond do you mind? I need to see them in private.”
“That won’t be necessary. Ron Beckwith, Internal Affairs. This is, Eric Moody, CIA and Christine Baker, my assistant.” The whole mob stacked into his office.
“Christ they must have a production line somewhere,” he said aloud and wished he’d kept his thoughts to himself. Hogan had never seen so much starch. “Sorry, I don’t have enough chairs.”
“Is Detective Frank Andropov on duty?”
“Yeah, he’s here in the office, why?”
“Good, if you would please vacate your office, we need to interview him in private. Send him in, will you?” asked Ron Beckwith, stepping aside.
Hogan opened his desk drawer and took out his stress ball. He lifted the Crossword Killer’s file from the desk and stormed out, followed by Hammond.
“Hey, Frank, someone’s here to see you in my office.”
Frank pulled himself up from his chair and came forward, a furtive look on his face. He walked in Hogan’s office and closed the door behind him.
“What’s all that about?” asked Hammond.
“Beats me. Could be helping them, or maybe he’s been up to something. Whatever it is, it must be serious if the CIA’s involved. All I know is, we could do without it,” he said sighing and squeezing his stress ball.
“Chief, you’d better come and look at your emails,” said Madge. Hogan walked across to her desk.
“I don’t really have the patience to be looking at my emails right now, Madge. Is it something important?”
“Could be,” replied Madge. It reads, ‘Confession of The Crossword Killer.’.”
“Probably a crack-pot. Open it all the same.”
Madge opened the email. “Has an attachment, video. Wanna see it?”
“May as well,” replied Hogan and he waited until it downloaded.
“What is it, Chief Hogan?” Hammond asked.
“Come and see. Probably some crazy-head. Somebody tied up in a chair with a cover over his head. Press play Madge.” All looked on in silence and watched the video.
“He’s a good actor, I’ll give him that,” remarked Hammond.
“Shush, I missed that,” said Hogan. “Play that part again.” Hogan listened intently to his words about the anagram and then watched the film play out. “Madge, get me the Crossword Killer’s file off that desk and bring it over here, please.”
Madge handed him the file and he flicked through it until he came to the message. “Madge, search for the Greek alphabet.”
Hogan worked his way through the alphabet and substituted the letters crossing them off the word, Mathematician. Suddenly he was excited with the prospects and adrenalin pumped.
“This ain’t no crank video. Get me a SWAT team, Madge, and have SOC standby,” he said and returned to the email. He printed off the name and address. “Joe, phone Margaret at the singles’ club and check this name out on her list of members.”
“Have you seen the address, Chief? It’s the Greek deli right across the street,” said Joe.
“He’s been under our noses the whole damn time,” Hogan said. “Where does that leave us with Bill and Jamie? Don’t tell me they’re all in this,” he told Hammond.
Hammond spread his hands and shrugged his shoulders.
“She wasn’t too pleased about the time of the call, but Margaret didn’t need to check her list. Apparently she barred him the night of Grace’s murder for sexually harassing a woman at the club,” said Joe.
“Joe, go over to the deli right now. Grab a uniformed guy to keep an eye on the front of the shop, and you stake out the back. Whatever you do, don’t try and enter until the SWAT team arrives. Look Agent Hammond, can I call you, Greg? After all, we’re practically joined at the hip. You can call me John.”
“No problem, John, but only when we’re alone. I wouldn’t want to dilute our authority in front of the troops.”
“Fine, but we need to find some vests for protection and get over there. Madge, play the video again and write down the safe combination.”
“You realize we can’t use that vid in court,” said Hammond. “Definitely coerced.”
“Yeah, sounded like someone was holding a gun to his head, but who?” Hogan asked.
“Let’s just look at the video again quickly before we go.”
Madge handed Hogan the safe combination and they replayed the video.
“Madge, pause the film.” The video stopped on the frame where the camera panned down on his lower body. “Look at that watch. Can you zoom in?”
“Not on our budget. We’ll have to send it to the lab,” answered Madge.
“Damn it. I’m sure that’s the type off watch Jamie was wearing today at his house,” said Hogan. “That’s all we need, a renegade driving around the streets in a police car with an arsenal in the trunk. Madge, check the name on criminal records.”
“Here you are, Chief, four warnings for soliciting and one conviction for GBH on a prostitute. Bingo! There’s his fingerprints and DNA,” said Madge. She printed off a copy.
“Get a message to forensics to check why they missed matching it with the DNA from the third murder. Have them recheck it. Come on, Greg, let’s go for a walk.”
“Wait a minute, Chief Hogan, we need to speak to you,” said Ron Beckwith, popping his head out of the office.
“Sorry, it’ll have to wait. Grown up business,” replied Hogan.
“Chief Hogan, I’m ordering you to wait right here.”
“Fuck you, Beckwith,” replied Hogan. The pressure took its toll and Hogan wasn’t feeling very tactful. “Come on, Greg, we got a perp to apprehend.”
“Agent Hammond, don’t leave, I need to speak with you,” shouted Eric Moody the CIA operative.
“Same goes for you, Eric. Fuck you and the horse you rode in on! I’m right behind you, John,” he said and grabbing two vests. They left.
Arriving at the deli, they made their way to the rear where they met the SWAT Commander.
“Didn’t have far to travel on this one, Chief. What’s the script?” asked the
Commander.
Hogan filled him in on the situation and told him not to release Jake from his bindings but to secure the apartment. The Commander took two of his team to enter the back yard. Returning, he gave orders to his troops and they made their way to the back door. Hogan heard a loud crashing sound and waited nervously.
“You ready for us yet?” asked Jeff.
“Soon, just waiting for the all clear,” answered Hogan as he saw the Commander return.
“All yours, Chief. Send down my guy that’s guarding him,” said the SWAT Commander.
“Right, Jeff, after you. Do you have some gloves?”
“Here take these. Not much point in booties with those apes trampling everywhere.”
Hogan followed Jeff into the back yard.
“Why do they have to make such a mess every time?” Jeff asked. “They even smash the doors when they’re unlocked. Look at that removed panel. Whoever broke in must’ve used it as his entry point. God knows why they couldn’t follow his example. Jim, check the panel for prints,” Jeff ordered his assistant and made his way upstairs with Hogan and Joe in tow.
Hogan relieved the guard and told Joe to keep an eye on Jake as he made his way to the kitchen to locate the safe. Hogan quickly opened it. He was taken aback at the find, as Hammond caught up with him and peered over his shoulder.
“Don’t jump to conclusions, John. Jamie could’ve planted them.”
“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. I’ll get Jeff in here.” Hogan made his way into the living room. “Read him his rights, Joe,” he ordered as he looked at the pitiful sight of Jake bound to the chair.
“I’ve finished with him, and I found a good print on the cuffs,” said Jeff.
“What should I do with him?” Joe asked.
“I wish I could say shoot the fucker! Just listen and see if he says anything, Jeff, I need you in the kitchen,” said Hogan, as he passed Jeff’s assistant.
“The door handles have been wiped clean. I think we need to search for a body. There’s a foul odor in this bedroom,” said the assistant.
Survival Instinct Page 27
