Inception_The Bern Project

by M James Conway

  Morgan tried to brush it off. “Yeah. Whatever. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” He had a second thought and stood up. “Hey, what do you think?” He spread his arms out and turned around, showing his black “The Ramones” T-shirt and black utility kilt with matching combat boots. He went full circle then stopped, staring at John with a smile.

  John smiled and said, “You look like a washed-up roadie for the Sex Pistols.”

  “Yeah, well, as they say…I Wanna Be Me.”

  John left and closed the door behind him, making his way toward the front. He heard Brie laughing, and, as he entered the lobby, saw her and Sam joking around as they cleaned up after the rush. There were a few customers left, but they were all sitting down, lost in their own techno world.

  John walked up to the front and grabbed a muffin off the counter. He said, “How you guys doing?”

  Brie, who had a crush on John and wasn’t shy about it, said, “Oh, just waiting for you to ask me out.”

  John smiled. “I’m old enough to be your dad. Well, technically.”

  “True, but I’ll be twenty-one next month.” She winked, playfully.

  “You don’t want baggage, Brie, trust me.” He nodded to Sam. “Try Sam, here. He’s single and looking. Right, Sam?”

  Sam, a skinny Hispanic kid with close-cropped hair and pencil-thin mustache, blushed and tried to play it off. He had confided in John that he was attracted to Brie, but had been too shy to ask her out. “Uh. Well, I’m seeing a few lucky ladies, but uh…you know…I’m kind of busy and whatnot.” To Brie, he said, “But we can hang out sometime, I guess.”

  John laughed and walked out, feeling the heat from the Friday midday sun. He got on his bike, pocketed the muffin, threw the bagful of money into the side bag and put his helmet on. Edging the bike into traffic, he revved the engine, causing the windows of neighboring businesses to shake. He headed down the road, thinking about how much he liked Brie and Sam, not knowing it was the last time he would ever see either of them.

  Chapter 7

  “Easy now, boys,” Redmond said. With the help of Wolf and Nitro, Redmond pushed the wheeled cart down to the dock. Fifty pounds of highly pressurized aerosol gas was contained in each of the three fire extinguisher-sized canisters inside the airtight crate.

  They got the crate on the dock and wheeled it down to the seventy-eight-foot Archangel patrol boat moored under the dock canopy. Wolf let go and jumped into the boat. He pushed the thick slab plank onto the dock, creating a ramp.

  While Redmond and Nitro pushed the cart up, Wolf was backing with it, careful to make sure it made it onto the boat safely.

  Nitro was leaning against one of the slip cover posts. Redmond nodded to the end of the cargo container. Nitro stood up and took hold of the end of the container and waited. Redmond and Wolf walked around to the sides and lifted.

  “Slow, slow, slow.” Redmond and Wolf walked sideways while Nitro walked backward as the container was taken onto the boat.

  They took their time lowering the crate to the ground and it came to rest on the deck of the boat without a sound. Redmond walked to the gunwale on the port side and opened the bottom compartment. He pulled the door up and secured it in place. Inside were three open tubes with clamps ready to be connected.

  “Slowly push it over here.”

  Wolf and Nitro pushed the container over until it was right at the base of the gunwale. Wolf walked around and opened the lid of the container. Inside, the large black canister had the skull and crossbones inside a red diamond, telling anyone nearby that what it contained was poisonous.

  No shit, Redmond thought.

  All three men slid the container into the pre-built compartment. Redmond bent down and connected each tube coming from the compartment into its matching colored nozzle on the canister.

  They pushed the canister the rest of the way in, closed the small door, and backed up away from the gunwale.

  Redmond stood up and wiped sweat off his forehead, staring at the gunwale. “This better work.”

  Wolf stood to the side, put a dip of tobacco into his mouth and said, “Why wouldn’t it? It’s been jihadi tested, General approved.” He shook his head. “It’ll work.”

  Redmond looked down at his watch. 1:00PM. In twenty-two hours, the world would experience something it had never experienced before. A rebirth. A makeover. A change that people across the planet weren’t going to be prepared for. That’s what Redmond and his men were waiting for. Deliver the payload, come back to the island, observe, then kill survivors.

  He had to admit, the prospect of what was coming excited him more than the thought of deploying to Iraq or Afghanistan, where Redmond had been multiple times. The adrenaline rushes he got from battle were something he was addicted to. He both loved it and longed for it.

  He looked up and saw Wolf and Nitro waiting by the boat. “All right, gentlemen, let’s get inside and prep the weapons. We’ve got less than twenty-four hours.”

  Chapter 8

  The police station was two blocks away from Bellevue Mall. Walking distance, technically, but time was of the essence. Russell made it back in five minutes and was just entering the Detectives’ Bureau on the second floor when his cell phone chimed. Assuming it was Kat, he picked it up.

  It was a text from Sims that read, “Got a copy. ER back.” He was on his way.

  Russell hit the little phone receiver icon next to Sims’ name and heard it ring twice, then Sims picked up. “Yea!”

  “Okay, thanks. See you when you get here.” Russell clicked off before Sims could respond. He hated texting, thinking it was a childish and lazy form of communication.

  “Detective Mixney. What’s the status on Bellevue Mall?” Lieutenant Connelly somehow appeared behind Russell as he was entering his office.

  Russell heard him, but continued to walk to his desk. “Well, it’s still there. Has lots of stores and shops, rich people, and screaming kids. I’ve heard they’ve added a shitty cinnamon roll kiosk, so that’s new.” Russell hated his boss.

  “You know what I mean, Detective. Stop with the bullshit.” Connelly was leaning against the doorjamb of Russell’s office door, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his “World’s Greatest Detective” coffee mug. Obviously he was a kidder.

  Russell sighed. “The D.B. is being processed. As per the M.E., it occurred roughly twelve to fifteen hours ago. If you’re not good at math, that means roughly around nine o’clock last night. Three stab wounds, one of them major, also a cut throat, but not that much blood, signifying, of course, it was done after the fact. Now, whether the killer knew that or not is anyone’s guess. Sims is seeing to his car and obtaining a copy of the security cameras’ footage. Matter of fact, he’s on his way here now. Wagner is at the victim’s residence, looking for next of kin.” His cell phone rang. He looked down at the screen and saw it was Wagner. “Speaking of which…” Russell pointed down to his phone, passively dismissing Connelly, swiveling his chair so his back faced the door.

  “Okay. Keep me updated.” Connelly walked off before Russell could respond.

  “Go, Wagner.”

  “Hey, Russ. Okay, he lives alone, no family known. I’m speaking with the housekeeper right now. She says he’s never had any family or friends over and hasn’t seen Ali in about one week, give or take a day. Apparently she has a set schedule where she comes twice a week, usually when Ali is at work. He’ll leave money on the counter for, uh…” Russell heard Wagner rustling some papers, “…Gloria Espinoza, the housekeeper here, to pick up when she’s done.”

  “Okay. Who’s there with you?”

  “Me, Carter, Villanueva, and a few uniforms. The house…all eighty-five hundred square feet of it, by the way…has been searched, except…hold on…” Wagner was heard talking to someone in the background, which took about twenty seconds. “Okay, there’s an outhouse or boathouse type thing by the water that we can’t access. Gated, fenced, and padlocked. That building by itself is as big as my house, so
we have no idea what’s inside. Windows are blacked out, no response to yells, so…probably empty, but that’s the one thing we haven’t covered yet. We’re working on it, though.”

  “Sounds good, Wagner. Sims is on his way back here now. We’re going to check the security cameras of the garage. As soon as we’re done here, we’ll head on down to you. If you get into that house thingy, let us know. If not, we’ll be down there and see what we can do.”

  “Roger that.” Wagner clicked off.

  Russell had grabbed his paperwork and opened the bottom drawer to extract a manila folder when he heard a knock on his door.

  “Got it.” Sims was waving a DVD in the air for emphasis.

  “Good. Let’s take a look.” Russell scooted over to give Sims room to hover.

  “Nah, fuck that. You have no windows in your office. Let’s use Conference One. Has that new TV that Connelly thought we needed really bad.” He nodded to Russell’s computer. “We can’t even watch shitty porn on that thing.” Sims hated Connelly too, but not as much as Connelly hated Russell, hence the lone windowless office that just somehow seemed to belong to Russell.

  “Good idea. I’m grabbing a coffee from the machine. Want one?”

  “Hell, yes. I’m walking dead right now. Bring mine in enema form.”

  Russell grabbed both coffees and met Sims in the room marked “Conference One.” Sims knew more about technology than Russell did, so he gave Sims the pleasure of being lead man on the DVD.

  “So, I did a quick look of the cameras from the garage. I had security burn me a copy of all camera footage on floor three for the past twenty-four hours. And before you ask, twenty-four hours is as far back as they record. Entrance and exit cameras are, quote unquote, ‘non-functioning.’ Fortunately, all of floor three works. Lucky us. Ali arrived at seven forty-two at night. Came in off of Bellevue Way. He gets out of the car alone and walks away. Camera loses him after he gets to the elevator bay.”

  The DVD was burned in a way that allowed them to watch all the cameras at once, each occupying its own space on the screen. Fortunately, it was a large TV screen, so they were able to clearly see all six camera views. Only one was occupying their attention right now.

  “Okay. Arrives there at almost eight. He was killed sometime around, what, nine o’clock?”

  “According to our Detective Medical Examiner, yeah.”

  Sims fast-forwarded at five times normal speed, then slowed it down when he saw activity. “There.”

  “What is that, a BMW X5?”

  “Looks like it. Backing in.” Russell noticed a smallish white female, mid-twenties, sitting in the driver’s seat. She got out and walked to the elevator bay. “She doesn’t exactly look like a killer, but…and not a very good view. Only see the front half of the car, if that.”

  “Might be able to get one after she leaves, depending on which way she goes. Or maybe one of the other cameras picked it up.”

  Russell pointed to the screen with his middle finger. “Looks like one hour has elapsed. Let’s slow it down.”

  Sims did. After four minutes had elapsed Russell said, “Whoa, right there!” Sims stopped, then rewound the disc. “Shadow.” Sims played it at normal speed.

  Both Russell and Sims leaned in, almost touching heads to watch. It showed a shadow walking towards the Tesla from the front.

  “Probably him,” Sims said.

  “Let’s hope. Can we slow it down to half?”

  Sims did and the shadow continued toward the car, then stopped.

  “Maybe it’s not him.”

  “I think it might be. Look…” Sims pointed and they both saw a second shadow visible in front of the BMW.

  “Looks like both drivers are walking to their cars. Tesla guy first, BMW driver second.” The shadows moved back and forth, their gaits dancing across the ground. After about two minutes, the Tesla shadow started to grow.

  “That’s Ali. Betcha,” Sims said.

  “Probably right. We need that Beemer plate, though.” Russell and Sims both watched intently. The BMW seemed to shake a bit, indicating the second shadow had entered the car. Sims said, “Beemer gal, for sure.”

  The first shadow walked toward the Tesla and the top of a head came into view. Ali.

  Russell pointed to the Tesla. “There’s Ali. Looks like he’s putting his bags in the trunk.”

  They both noticed the brake lights of the BMW semi-illuminating the concrete wall.

  “What the hell is that?” Sims was pointing to a darker portion in the illumination. It looked like a cheap version of a Rorschach test. “There’s something behind the BMW. Maybe a post?”

  “No, there weren’t any posts there. What the hell is that?” Just then, the dark spot appeared to change form, indicating that whatever was causing the shadow had moved. Both men jumped back, as if watching a horror movie.

  “Okay. That is our killer.”

  Russell didn’t respond. The shadow behind the BMW moved again, back to its normal position. The woman let off the brakes and accelerated, taking the shadow with her, leaving an empty concrete wall. Go time.

  “There.” As Ali was getting in, the top of his head was overtaken by a large arm and a head. Russell watched as Ali was dragged back from view. The arm came back and moved toward Ali, came back slower, then repeated the movement two more times with more intensity and more speed.

  “That’s our killer. One slow deep stab wound, back and forth, then two quick ones,” Sims said.

  Again, Russell didn’t respond.

  This was their killer and he was focusing on the back door on the driver’s side, holding Ali’s body up. Eventually, he would be putting Ali’s body across the back seat. The top of the killer’s head came into view and Russell said, “There he is. Slow it down a bit, would ya?”

  “Tall guy. Black hair cut close. Looks like a goddamned accountant. Maybe glasses?”

  “Maybe. Hard to tell. Lot of man, though. Very Clark Kentish.” Russell watched as the subject moved with ease, as if he’d done this before. They watched as the killer hauled Ali’s body around and pushed him into the back seat. “He just put him in the back seat.”

  “I want to see where he goes now. See if we can get a better look.”

  Both Russell and Sims watched intently as the killer’s shadow navigated across three of the six screens towards the elevators, but never revealing who he was.

  “Killer knew the cameras. We have to figure out how…”

  “Shhh!” Russell wanted quiet, even though no sound was present on the TV. “Just watch for a sec.”

  The shadow moved toward the far end of the elevator bay and out of view of the camera. It disappeared, replaced by the illumination of headlights and a brief glimpse of a smaller white car. The license plate was not in view. The car stopped, and a familiar head appeared, although briefly, and got into the passenger seat. The head had turned and lowered in one motion.

  “Rewind that, Sims. I think I got a partial side view of his face.”

  Sims rewound it about five seconds, then played it at half speed. It came to the side view and Sims paused it. “That…” Sims was pointing to the screen with a pen, “…is our killer.”

  “And his accomplice. White male, large. Looks fit. Maybe, what…six-two or six-three? I’m guessing around two hundred thirty pounds, muscular.”

  “I won’t argue.”

  Russell and Sims watched the rest of the video, waiting to see if there was a better view of the car. The video ended. There was no further footage of the white car.

  “Well, shit. We need those exit and entry cams.” Russell leaned back in his chair, rubbed his eyes and yawned. “I need more coffee.”

  “Hold on a second.” Sims rewound the video at twice the speed, going back to where the headlights first showed against the wall next to the elevator. He then played it at half speed until it got to the point where the driver of the vehicle was visible. “Right there.”

  Russell looked and saw what Sims w
as pointing to. “Interesting. I didn’t see that the first time around.”

  “I thought it was just a glare at first.”

  The driver of the vehicle had a cast on his right hand, exposing the top half of the fingers. It was difficult to see at first, due to the overcoat he was wearing, but the unmistakable slight bulge around the wrist and the white of the cast were easy to see.

  “It narrows it down, but it doesn’t at the same time. Accomplice has a cast, but how many adults have casts, especially during August with outdoorsy shit and can get them at any doctor’s office? That’s a lot of phone calls,” Russell said.

  Sims sighed and seemed to ignore Russell. “Maybe the city has traffic cams working. I know they do during the day, but maybe they do at night? We could check the Eighth Street and Bellevue Way camera. Also the Fourth Street and Bellevue Way camera. There’s got to be something. Of course, if they were smart enough to not be seen in the garage, odds are they were smart enough to avoid the street cams.”

  “Yeah.” Russell looked down at his watch. 9:00PM. He tried calling Kat again but got no answer. He didn’t leave a message this time. He stared at his cell phone and was about to call Wagner, when his phone rang.

  Kat.

  Russell hit the phone icon and put it to his ear. “Hey, Sweetie.”

  “Hey, Dad. Sorry, I saw you called, but was watching Christina practice for tomorrow night.”

  “Oh, no problem.” Russell tried to hide his relief that his daughter wasn’t mad at him. “How’s the practice going?”

  “It’s going great. Christina is doing really well, and honestly, you have to hear her. She’s going to kill tomorrow.” Russell wasn’t up on the teen lingo, which seemed to change every week.

  “Oh. Coolio. So, what time is that thing tomorrow?”

  She didn’t respond right away. “Uh. Coolio?”

  “Sorry. Cool. Bitchin. Rad. I don’t know what you kids say nowadays. Laugh out loud?”

  Kat laughed. “Well, good thing I’m not a kid anymore. You know, almost an eighteen-year-old adult and all. Oh, and its L-O-L, Dad. You don’t have to say what it stands for. We kids will know.”