Circle of Terror

by Larry Powalisz

  “Did you ever see the guy?”

  “I think so. I was there about two months ago to get something and saw a man going in the front door, using a key. Must have been him.”

  “Can you describe him at all?”

  “He was wearing a black leather cap, so I couldn’t see his hair, but it was bald on the sides. Clean shaven, with a big earring in one of his ears. About six feet tall. Medium build. He had on a black leather vest with some kind of writing and symbols on it. I think one was a capital A with a circle around it. Isn’t that some sort of anarchist thing or something? Couldn’t read any of the writing on it.”

  “Very good, ma’am. Anything else you remember about him?”

  “All I remember was blue jeans and black leather boots. He smiled at me and even waved. I saw this tattoo on his right inside forearm. Couldn’t describe it, except to say it had initials and a design. That’s about it. One more thing. This may be a little weird, but I also remember he had intense eyes. Hard to explain.”

  “Fantastic, Mrs. Barker. I may call you within the next hour or two for some other info. Please don’t call Angela or the people downstairs. That’s very important. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, I do, young man. I’ll be home the rest of the night if you need something.”

  “Thanks again. Good night.” Tomczyk hung up the phone. Several minutes after he finished speaking to Gabriella Barker, John Birke walked into the assembly.

  “How you doing, Detective? Whatcha need?”

  “Doing well, man. On the night of the bombing, did you get a look at either of the two guys in the car?”

  “I think I could maybe pick out the driver if I saw him again, but probably not the passenger as I focused on the driver. Just too fast of a look. He never really looked at me … just his eyes, if you get my drift.”

  “Got it—fish eyes. I’ve tried to explain that to people for years, and they always give me the thousand-yard stare.”

  “Exactly.”

  “John, I want to show you a photo array and see if you can identify anyone. It’s worth a shot.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  Declan pulled out the photo array from a folder he was holding and placed it on the desk. “Take your time.”

  “Wow, didn’t expect this.” Birke tilted his head toward the ceiling, closed his eyes, and exhaled. He looked down at the paper and placed several fingers from his right hand underneath each photo. Starting from the top left, he slowly moved his fingers to the next one on the right. It was obvious he was concentrating very hard, trying to remember a fleeting face in the night. He went to the bottom row, starting again on the left. When he got to the middle photo, he closed his eyes again.

  “This is the son of a bitch, right here. I’ll never forget those eyes or that face. The lights in the parking lot illuminated it fairly well, and he gave me a look that told me he was guilty of something. I’d bet my career this is him!”

  “Very good.” Declan had made several additional copies of the colored photo array just for this reason. He turned the paper over and had the officer sign and date it, positively identifying the subject in position number five as the person driving the car the night of the explosion. Declan wrote all the information in his memo book.

  “Do you know where he is? I’d love to be in on this arrest.”

  “Not yet, but we’re working on it. I’ll keep you in mind. How long you working tonight?”

  “Usual shift. Squad 5258 until midnight.”

  “I’ll be in touch.” Declan shook his hand. “You doing okay? That was a tough night.”

  “Won’t ever forget it. I keep seeing those firefighters in my dreams, and I’ve been sleeping like garbage.”

  “You see the shrink? That’s what they’re there for. After my first shooting, the doctor I went to see helped me out.”

  “You’re right. I have a female shrink, and I’ve seen her once so far. My problem is at night when I’m alone in bed and have time to think about it. I keep reliving how I could have done things differently.”

  Declan put his arm around the young officer. “I hate to say it, but that’s normal. It’s going to take a while. Here’s my business card, John. When you have those tough times, give me a shout. I’ve been there and have more than my share of those dreams.”

  “Thanks, appreciate it.”

  “Great job. Later.”

  Tomczyk called the intelligence division lieutenant’s extension. “Lieut, Tomczyk. Things are progressing regarding the bombing case at District Five. You got a sec?”

  “Talk to me, Ski.”

  “He related the story to Lieutenant Vohl. From his initial contact with a teenager who provided information, through to the positive identifications of Richard Zuber from George and John Birke, putting Zuber at the police station explosion. “Lieut, this is also the driver from the cemetery bombing. I recognized him right away.”

  “Fantastic. What’s next?”

  “I’ll need the duty DA’s phone number so I can tell him what we have and hopefully get a telephonic search warrant. I think it’s enough, but the assistant district attorney has to think so also. I’ll head over to the East Side and show the array to the duplex owner to see if we can get a positive ID of Zuber being the guy she saw go in the front door of the duplex. That will shore it up more tightly.”

  “Good job. Where’d this kid come up with the idea of this Zuber as a possible suspect?”

  “The old man gave him the first clue. Then this kid, Demetrius Simms, picked up the ball and ran with it. His dad was Willie Simms, if you remember him.”

  “Remember him! Willie was a friend of mine. Met his wife, Dorrie, a couple times. She introduced me to the son at the funeral, but he was a couple years younger. A tough time for us all. How’s Demetrius doing now?”

  “You wouldn’t believe what a class act he is. He’s also a high school football star who will probably be going to college on a full ride.”

  “That’s fantastic news. Keep me posted.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  Declan re-contacted Gabriella Barker and told her he needed to meet her for something. She agreed. Twenty minutes later, he had another positive identification of Zuber. Great, puts him living there. He drove over to the duplex to get a detailed description of the exterior for the search warrant. He already had the upper-floor plan sketch from Mrs. Barker so he could brief the officers doing the entry. Next, he called Duty ADA Deann Skenarz, one of his favorites.

  “Deann, this is Detective Tomczyk. How’s my favorite assistant district attorney doing?”

  “Things don’t change, Ski. Haven’t heard from you in weeks, and you’re already sweet talking me. What do you need?”

  “Nothing’s changed. Still in love with only you. I have a great story and need your expertise to get me a search warrant.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Go for it.”

  Declan laid the case out to her, which took ten minutes. She asked intermittent questions to clarify some of the information he provided.

  “Sounds good. I’ll type it up and send it to Judge Wagner. He’s still the best judge on the bench for these after-work-hours warrant requests. Is this a good number?”

  “Yes. And Deann, thanks.”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  “One more thing. This guy’s an expert at secondary explosives and booby traps. I’m having the bomb squad meet me.”

  “Sounds like a smart idea. I’ll get back to you as soon as I have it.”

  “Later.”

  It was seven thirty when he received the call from Deann. “I have the search warrant for the upper and the basement, along with a felony arrest warrant for Zuber. I’ll scan it to your email address.”

  “Excellent.” He provided her the information.

  Declan had already requested for a couple tactical section squads, etc., to meet him at District Five. With search warrant in hand, he briefed everyone in the assembly about the suspect and the contents of th
e warrant.

  “Keep in mind, the duplex could be booby trapped like other places you’ve read about. This guy really knows his stuff. We’ll knock, but if no one answers, we’re not making entry until we verify there are no bombs rigged to blow. We’ll let the bomb techs do their magic. Understood?”

  Everyone nodded their heads in agreement.

  Within ten minutes, officers were pounding on the front door of the upper duplex, after shining their lights in the door window to make sure it was clear. Additional officers were staged at the back door, which was common to both the lower and upper level of the duplex. The rest of the perimeter was also covered. Repeated door banging failed to bring an answer. Officers contacted the elderly couple in the lower flat and apprised them of the situation. They related to Tomczyk that they heard Zuber and Angela yelling briefly sometime around five o’clock, then it got quiet. A couple minutes later, they heard someone walking down the back stairs to the basement. They heard that person walk back upstairs shortly thereafter. About thirty to forty minutes later, they saw Zuber leave in an older, maroon Buick, the one they usually saw him driving. The couple said they’ve heard no movement or other sounds since then. They were placed in a squad car down the block. The homes on both sides of the duplex were also evacuated.

  Detective Billy Hammer, bomb technician, secured a ladder from a neighbor’s yard and placed it against the rear porch. He carefully climbed it and stepped over the porch railing. Shining his small high-beam flashlight into the darkened kitchen, he observed what they all had suspected.

  “Looks like a bomb on the back door.” He checked along the inside of the porch door and saw several colored wires, but his viewpoint didn’t allow him to see any device. “The inside of this porch door is rigged as well.” He took a closer look at the device attached to the back door to give him some idea of what they were facing. Several minutes later, he stepped back onto the ladder and climbed down.

  “What do we have, Billy?” Declan asked, with genuine concern on his face.

  “Not looking good at all, Ski. The device on the back door looks to go off once that door is opened. We obviously can’t disarm it from outside the apartment. I can’t see the device on the porch door.” He pointed directly above them. “All I can see are a couple wires that your boy didn’t hide as well as he could have. We can enter through one of the windows to check out the place for bombs. I think we have a better chance of removing a window to see in. What do you think?”

  “I’m game, man. You’re the expert.”

  “My guess is this guy didn’t set a bomb at every entry point from what you said the downstairs people told you. He didn’t have the time. I’ll try one of the windows on the side of the house and see what we got.”

  “Okay.”

  Billy climbed the ladder to the second floor and pulled a cutting tool from a full utility belt he had taken from the bomb truck.

  “You never know when this stuff may come in handy,” he said to the uniformed officer holding the ladder. He shined the light into what turned out to be one of the upstairs bedrooms and surveyed every corner of the window and surroundings to see what he had. The blade screeched along the window as he made a cut several inches in from the window molding holding the glass in place. Declan felt a tingling in his body as he had flashbacks of fingernails raking down a chalkboard.

  “Got it.” Hammer used a small suction cup to pull the glass out and carried it down the ladder, handing it to one of the police officers assisting him. He climbed back up and slowly placed his head inside the dark room, his flashlight leading the way. Hammer then came back down the ladder.

  “This bedroom’s clear. Ken and I will enter through the window and see what we’re facing in the rest of the apartment.”

  “You got it, Billy. Zuber’s gone, and the neighbors didn’t see or hear the female leave. Her car is still in the garage out back.”

  “Okay. We’ll see what we got. Can I get one police officer to come up with us and stay at our six as a go-between? It’ll make things much easier.”

  “See what I can do.” Declan walked over to Sergeant Davis and discussed the situation. Within minutes, an officer presented himself.

  “I’m your man, Detective. Two tours in Iraq as an EOD guy. Totally understand it’s their show. I’m just their eyes, ears, and helper.”

  “You’re a quick learner. What’s your name?”

  “Josh Zastrow.”

  Declan looked over at the bomb tech. “Hammer, this is Josh Zastrow. Former Army EOD who wants to be your Boy Friday.”

  “Okay, good. Name’s Hammer.” He began discussing strategy as they prepared to enter the apartment window.

  Chapter 26

  MILWAUKEE RIVERWEST

  A cell phone rang at an apartment in Chicago. “What’s up, Spike?” “Bad news, cuz. Somehow the cops found out about me. Can’t figure it out. The only way would have been the old guy at the nursing home. He told me about the detectives who messed with him years ago and gave me the idea in the first place. Hate to think he ratted me out.”

  “So what’s the drill?”

  “I met Madman at the building and loaded the goods into a van we borrowed last week. Ditched my ride over by the building. They’ll have a hard time finding it. We’re heading down by you tonight to lay low until the big job I have planned later this week. It’s much sooner than we thought. Those dirt bags decided not to pay up, and the little payback plan we had didn’t work out. That okay with you?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Good. See ya when I see ya. Shouldn’t be more than two or three hours, depending on traffic.”

  “You got it.”

  Spike clicked the off button. “All set. This should be an interesting week.”

  Search Warrant

  Fourteen years on the bomb squad taught William ‘Billy’ Hammer never to overlook the obvious. He was the first one through the window and stood for several seconds to get the feel of the room. As he shined the million-candle-power flashlight slowly around the room again, the additional angle allowed him to notice the tripwire in the doorway leading into the hallway. He locked it into his brain. Continuing around the room, illuminating a section at a time, he noticed nothing else that gave him concern. He motioned for his partner, Ken Smith, to come up next.

  The two experienced bomb techs found the source and defused the bomb. They checked it out to see what kind of bomb maker they were dealing with. It had the usual components, but something about it was different from many others they had dealt with. Less weight, which meant less explosives, or a higher quality explosive. They would be checking that out later, but either way, the first one was defused. “Good job, Kenny. Why don’t you scope out this short hallway, and I’ll call for Josh to come up?”

  “Roger that.”

  When Police Officer Zastrow climbed into the bedroom, Hammer showed him the IED, explaining how and where they found it. Zastrow looked at it and shook his head.

  “Okay, Hammer. I won’t make a move until you guys give me the high sign. This is nothing like the stuff we had in the ‘sandbox.’ Most of those scumbags didn’t have the knowledge or materials to make something this good.”

  “That’s encouraging at least. Why don’t you hang here in the bedroom until we call you?”

  “I’m cool with that.”

  Smith glanced out into the hallway, skillfully short-stepping the ten feet that opened up into the once-beautiful stucco walls. Should he go left or right out of the bedroom? He chose left. He had placed yellow “Do Not Cross” tape on the hallway floor to be sure the others knew it was “hot.” A small table light gave him enough illumination in the living room to see fully. Once Billy gave him a pat on the right shoulder, they steadily made their way across the large room. Hammer observed an explosive device attached to the front room doorway.

  “Kenny, bomb on the front door.” He pointed at his discovery. The rest of the room was clear. Within several minutes, that bomb was defused as i
t appeared to have been hastily made and set to go off when someone opened the front door.

  “Stand by for a minute.” Hammer opened the door and peered down the front staircase with careful examination. He flashed his light through the glass of the door at the base of the stairs and unlocked the door. “Two rooms clear, three more to go,” he mentioned to two tactical section officers standing on the concrete walk at the base of the porch, MP5s at the ready. “One of us will be back shortly to give the ‘all clear’ signal for you to come in. We’ve diffused two so far. I know you don’t want to come in yet.”

  “You’re a genius, Billy. We’re fine standing right here.”

  Hammer gave a wink and closed the door. Smith was examining the explosive device as Billy returned to the living room. Zastrow was standing in a fixed position at the entrance to the bedroom, scoping out the uncleared portion of the duplex. It was obvious to the detectives he’d been in this position before.

  “All good, Smitty. Ready for the next part?”

  “Happy as a pig in mud. Let’s do this.”

  Hammer walked over the yellow tape and the additional five feet of the hallway, looking into the bedroom on his left. He saw a queen-size bed and a set of legs on the floor in blue jeans. The smaller-sized tennis shoes confirmed it was probably a female.

  “Josh, why don’t you stay on this bedroom until we clear the other rooms? We’ll be back in a jiff.”

  “Got it.”

  The bathroom was old styled and had seen better days, but was surprisingly clean like the rest of the unit, considering the “monster” who had been living here. It took Smith a minute of observation and searching to reassure himself that no bombs had been placed in the commode, sink, or the bathtub/shower area.

  The bomb setup in the kitchen was unique. Zuber had rigged double switches to go off if either the back door or porch door were opened from the outside. The wires led to a device placed inside a red plastic garbage can in the corner of the room. This was where Hammer got excited. As creative as a bomber thought he could be in making and designing explosive devices, Billy’s thought process was exponentially more imaginative in diffusing them. Ken Smith shook his head as he watched his long-time partner examine and take apart a bomb, always with a perpetual smile on his face. SCARY. THE MAN WAS JUST PLAIN SCARY.