Rise of a Phoenix: Rise of a Phoenix

by phill syron-jones

  She smiled and looked up at Captain Brant who had approached her as Steel had left. Brant had noticed the tears building up in the corners of her eyes and put a massive hand on her shoulder.

  “It’s like Dad all over again.” She had lost the smile.

  Brant shook his head. “This is nothing like your father’s murder, nothing. Now Steel will get in and out of there, you hear me, Detective?”

  She nodded and turned back to watch as Steel was being lowered into the building. A bad feeling came over the two of them.

  “We have to go.” She dried her eyes and turned, and as she looked up at her Captain she could see the worry on his face, and his concern made her feel a little better.

  The roof had been made secure and a hole had been cut above the target. Steel stood open-armed as the team put the harness on, finally latching the cable onto him via the clip; the man tugged on it to check that it was securely attached.

  “OK, central we are good to go here.” The team’s leader gave a thumbs up to Steel, who stepped off into the open frame of the window. As he fell into the open air the gears of the mechanical pulley locked in, leaving him hanging in mid air a few feet from the roof’s entrance.

  FIFTY-TWO

  Back at the command centre they watched a second monitor, which held live feed from Steel’s head cam. They saw the rocky motion as he was been lowered into the depths. Suddenly, with only a few feet to go, Steel yelled for them to stop.

  “What’s up? You changed your mind?” North spoke into the head set.

  “How did you check this part of the room?” Steel asked.

  North look somewhat confused at the question. “What do you mean? We used every sort of sensor and view that the bot has, you’re safe to proceed.” North shook his head as though to comment how unbelievable this man was. “Did you use x-ray?”

  North’s back stiffened. “And why would we use x-ray? So far he has used every gadget we know.”

  “Because, this guy is smart and at the moment I’m looking down to a large area that could have anything in it. Listen, if I know this guy he will start with technology and revert back to old school just to throw us off.”

  North looked at Doc Davidson who gave him a nod that signified that Steel was right.

  “Listen Sergeant North, all your scans, can they pick up old fashioned trip wires?”

  Then North’s face changed, and he ran over to the techs. Steel knew from the silence that that answer was no.

  “OK, bring back the bot and set it up for x-ray, even though I know it will be a waste of time.” North was mad. He felt as if he had just been shown up as incompetent, and he didn’t like that. After some readjustment and new equipment the copter was good to go. Flying through the gap in the ceiling it did a sweep and found all to be clear, and they also found the man to be alive. Using the x-ray they scanned the man for any sign of movement, which was slight but definitely discernible.

  As they watched through Steel’s cam, the Captain and the rest saw Steel untie the man and bring him forwards towards the cable. Locking him off onto the winch the man then disappeared into the haze of light above Steel. Everyone cheered as the man was retrieved through the skylight.

  Alarms sounded inside the complex and a loudspeaker activated. McCall and the others listened in fear as they made out a countdown being hailed from within:

  “30, 29, 28, 27...” the voice continued.

  North ordered his men off the roof. As he did so McCall turned to him and screamed abuse, telling him how he couldn’t leave Steel in there on his own. Then everyone fell silent as they heard: “5, 4, 3, 2, 1.”

  Steel listened intently, as the next thing to come over the speakers was Sinatra singing My Way. “Nice touch,” he thought, looking for cover. He spied the perfect spot: a metal plate, like a manhole cover, stuck slightly out of the ground, and he dived for it.

  Using all his strength he ripped up the metal cover and climbed in. A clang of metal echoed in the small crawl space as the cover crashed down behind him.

  “Well, this is going to hurt,” thought Steel out loud, crouching in his hiding spot and covering his ears. McCall ran forwards from the HQ with two SWAT members chasing after her.

  A blinding white flash came from within the building, then the area where the extraction team had stood moments before was blown apart as the roof structure was swallowed up by a blinding flash. Four simultaneous explosions could be heard, followed by the building being consumed by a fireball. Then a loud explosion ripped the construction apart, throwing Detective McCall and the two SWAT team members across the ground, where smoldering bricks and timber rained down on them.

  North and Carter stumbled forward, their faces registering the shock of what they had just witnessed, while McCall crawled to her knees and screamed Steel’s name in the hope that this phantom of a man would rise up, desperate that this annoying partner of hers would be perched on a building somewhere, laughing at them for being so foolish as to think he was gone. But there was only fire, smoke and death in front of them.

  McCall tried to throw off the two swat guys who had to restrain her from running into the inferno.

  “Ma’am, there’s nothing you can do, sorry about your guy but he’s gone,” one of them said.

  Her eyes were blazing, as if she was snarling at the two men, who let her go, raised their arms and backed off.

  “They are right, McCall, as much as I hate to agree,” the Captain told her. “Steel gave his life for this sorry son-of-a-bitch. I just hope it was worth it.” Brant could see how upset everyone was, and he ordered them all off the scene, even if ‘off scene’ was just around the corner.

  Brant knew that CSU would be there soon too set up a canvass, and because the area was large they would have to move quickly providing the weather held. The press had wasted no time in setting up their crews, and cameras and vultures with microphones circled the scene, hoping for something to broadcast. The response crew stared at the press and shook their heads.

  “Look at them, building burns down, couple of press guys arrive, said Tooms. “Put a cop in it, whole fucking precision.” There was nothing that the homicide department could do, not here. They had two people to question; unfortunately one of them had to go to hospital, but the other was all theirs.

  FIFTY-THREE

  The next morning the press was giving maximum coverage to the story about a cop in a booby-trapped building. It was reported that he had gone in to get a homeless guy out of danger. McCall smiled softly to herself, grateful that at least the press made a hero out of him. She had gotten in early, not wanting to waste any time. They had someone to talk to and she thought that he had better have the answers, for all their sakes.

  As she sat at her desk McCall sipped her coffee and her gaze was transfixed on the empty chair next to her desk. She felt the presence of someone standing behind her and she turned quickly, hoping to find Detective Steel there wearing his black suit. Her face fell when she saw that it was the Captain.

  “Thought it was him?” Brant smiled, reading her mind. “Yeh, the bastard really knew how to get into your head.” He sat on the edge of her desk as she looked up at him.

  “Why, Captain?”

  “What do you mean why? Why did he pick here? Why did he choose you as a partner? Or why did he go into that building?” He shrugged. “Thing is, Sam, I really don’t know. But I do know he cared about this team, and he cared about you.”

  She looked puzzled.

  “What, you think he needed to sit here?” he said, pointing to the empty chair beside her. “The man had an office of his own.” He stood up and laid a caring hand on her shoulder. “All we can do is to catch the bastard who did all this.”

  She looked up at him, and then her smile turned to a scowl. At that moment Brant pitied whoever was responsible for his murder.

  Tony was on the phone to the CSU department. He was speaking to Cindy Childs, a one-time girlfriend from his college days, now a professional collea
gue. They talked for a while about this and that but mostly she was sympathizing with his loss of a fellow officer. She had spent some time down at the scene and her heart went out to the people in the department.

  “Hey, are you guys OK?” Cindy went on. “I mean I saw the scene and everything and well, all I can say is I’m sorry.”

  Tony was touched at her words.”Yeh, well to lose someone like that is just—well you understand how I feel.” She quickly changed the subject to the reason she called in the first place. “Mike from ballistics came up trumps for you.”

  He looked puzzled for a moment.

  “You know that sniper rifle you sent down from the shooting at the bridge?”

  He sipped his well-needed coffee. “Yeh, don’t tell me it was used at the hotel shooting as well.” He dismissed the idea as ludicrous.

  “It’s not that. There was another shooting.” She explained some details of the weapon’s history, which came as a shock to Tony. The detective, having gone pale at the news, thanked her and slowly put down the receiver.

  McCall was with the rest of the team in the briefing room. The Captain was giving a breakdown on the events as they had happened, to try and elucidate some clues from the other people involved. Tony knocked and slowly walked in, and the Captain stopped talking and looked at him.

  “What’s up, Detective?” he asked, reading trouble in Tony’s pensive expression.

  “Uhm, I got the report back from ballistics.” He fumbled with a piece of paper which he was grasping tightly.

  “And what did they come up with?” asked the Captain, unable to figure out what was wrong.

  Tony ignored him and looked across at McCall. “McCall, can I speak with you alone please?” he said.

  The female detective wasn’t in the mood for messing around. “Tony, if you have something, spill it right now, will you?” She leant back in her chair and rubbed her eyes, feeling as if she hadn’t slept for a month.

  “Okay. The weapon that was used in several of the shootings. One time it was used in the hotel room and the other was around eight years ago.”

  Sam’s eyes lit up. At last they had a lead.

  “Who was the target?” she asked excitedly.

  “Detective Samuel Robson.” His heart sank as he watched her stagger slightly as if she had been shot herself. She looked across at him, feeling as if her legs wouldn’t support her.

  “Are they sure?”

  He nodded.

  She took off, making for the ladies room. Meanwhile, Doctor Davidson and Thompson looked puzzled.

  “Who the hell was he?” the doctor asked.

  Captain Brant sat down and composed himself before he spoke: “About ten years ago I got partnered with this hothead; he wanted to save the world—a good guy, a good cop.”

  His audience listened attentively.

  “We kicked some serious ass back in the day, bustin up all sorts of shit. Anyway one day on a big raid we busted big: weapons, cash, and oh I mean serious stuff. Now one detective made it his mission to find who was shipping the stuff and he shut them down.”

  Pausing only to take a sip from his coffee mug the Captain continued. “Around eight years ago he tells me he is close, he needs one final piece of the puzzle and he has everything. But he warned me it was bigger than we thought.” He coughed and loosened his tie. “We were called to a hotel room somewhere in the Bronx, disturbance and possible use of weapons, so we go in nice and quiet, not wanting to spook them so they can run, you know? Anyway we get to the room, the door is open, Samuel goes in to check his vitals.”

  The Captain stood up and walked round, finding his admission of past events difficult.

  “So what happened, Captain?” asked Doctor Davidson. He could see the pain in Brant’s face and sympathized with him.

  “A bullet from God knows where landed in my partner’s chest, sending him across the room. I tried to do CPR but that was useless, he was gone.” He wiped his eyes, weeping at the memory .

  “So who was he?” asked Thompson, still confused.

  The room went silent as McCall re-entered the room. “He was my father,” she told them.

  FIFTY-FOUR

  Jerry, the homeless man who’d led them to the building, sat in Interrogation Room One. On the table in front of him sat a large plate of hamburger and fries. For a moment Detective McCall watched the man through the other side of the two-way mirror. She felt loathing for the man who sat calmly eating, while her partner had been vaporized by the blast. The Captain, who was standing next to her smiled.

  “You okay going in there?” Alan Brant’s words were a comfort, but she knew she had to do it. As she stood outside the door of the interrogation room she blew out a lungful of air, readying herself for the ordeal.

  As McCall entered, Jerry looked up at her, looking beyond where she was standing, expecting to see Detective Steel.

  “Where’s the big guy?” he asked.

  She sat down slowly, not saying a word, not even looking at him. She sorted out some paperwork in front of him then she looked up and gave him a smile.

  “Hello, Jerry, how is the food?”

  He began to chew slowly, sensing that something was wrong.

  “It’s real good. Thanks.” He suddenly became more nervous, looking at the door and hoping that Steel would enter. Then, when the realization hit him, the man began to tremble with fear.

  “Where is the other detective?” he asked.

  She shot him a look that was so evil he almost wet himself.

  “Don’t you even speak his name, you do not have the right to ever speak his name, you piece of” A bang on the glass behind her shocked her back to reality.

  After a lengthy period of questioning, all McCall could get out of Jerry was he didn’t know anything about the bombs or the fact that his friend George had been tied to a chair in the middle of it all. George was in hospital, guarded by four men; the Captain was not prepared to risk losing another witness.

  “So, Jerry, tell me again about the deliveries?” The man she was questioning was tired and just wanted to sleep, but she figured that put her at an advantage.

  “We would pick up the parcels and take them to wherever we were told to go.” He drank the coffee she had put in front of him. “We would get word through Eric where to be and we would just deliver the goods.”

  “What sort of goods?” She leant back in the chair so it rocked backwards.

  “I don’t know. Some big, some small—just parcels,” he said, taking another sip of coffee.

  “Where to?” She could see he was breaking. Just a little further, she thought.

  “All over the place. We would bring them to parks, disused places—all sorts.” He was so tired that his hands were shaking. His eyes widened as she opened the file and laid out the crime scene photos of the women. Tears ran down his face as he realized the locations.

  “I had nothing to do with this,” he declared forcefully. “Really, this is wrong. As God is my witness, I didn’t know what was in the parcels.” He began to cry. “I was just told to bring the parcels there and leave them. That’s all. Please, you have to believe me.” He collapsed forwards on the table, the horrific images on the pictures burnt into his brain.

  “Okay, Jerry, I believe you,” she said, putting the photos away. “So these parcels. How long has it been going on for?”

  He looked up at her, surprised at the question.

  “Months? Years? I really don’t know.” He had stopped sobbing and took another sip of his coffee.

  McCall got up and went to the door and spoke with another officer outside the room. She sat back down and regarded Jerry. She had so many mixed emotions about this poor soul. Because he had led them into a trap, she would have liked to put a bullet into his brain. But on the other hand, this poor bastard was just being used.

  Moments later there was a knock on the door and a hand appeared with a map and some pens. McCall got up and took them, returning to her chair.

&
nbsp; “Jerry, can you show me on this map where you delivered to?” she asked, placing the map on the table in front of him.

  Jerry looked round nervously, then nodded. “But, see, if I help you, I have to disappear.”

  McCall leant back in her chair, and her cell phone buzzed. Taking it off the table she saw a text from the Captain, saying: get the locations I will speak to witness protection. She nodded to herself and put the phone back on the table.

  “Okay Jerry, you show us and then you disappear. It’s being arranged as we speak.”

  He looked back at her suspiciously. She picked up her cell phone and showed him the screen displaying the text from the Captain. She saw the beginnings of a smile of relief touch the corners of his lips. A moment later there was a knock on the window and she knew the deal was done. His head shot up, looking round desperately.

  “Are you expecting someone, Jerry?” She noticed his fingers rasping on the table, beads of sweat pouring down his dirty brow. He grabbed the pens and started to mark spots on the map. She instructed him to put a red dot to signify where he’d delivered a large package and a blue mark for a small one.

  “You never know, he could be here, couldn’t he?” Jerry’s nervous scribblings on the map continued frantically.

  “Who could be here?” Sam asked, intrigued. Who was it who was terrorizing him?

  “THE MAN, of course! That’s who! He is everywhere and everyone.” As he picked up his coffee mug she noticed that his hands were shaking violently.

  “Who is he? Have you ever met this THE MAN?”

  He shook his head still looking around anxiously.

  “Listen Jerry,” she tried to reassure him. “You know you are safe here. Nobody can get to you here.”

  He looked up at her, his eyes full of fear and remorse, before looking back at the map.

  “No,” Jerry replied at last. “I have never met him. Nobody has. All we know is Eric gets a call and we go to wherever and move whatever.” He shrugged, and as he sipped his coffee McCall could see he had calmed slightly.