“Your Mr Jones was a very interesting customer.” McCall walked over to her usual perch and hopped up to sit on the counter.
“What do you mean? What did you find?” McCall lifted the sheet that covered Jones’s face.
“Well, to start with your boy has had a lot of surgery and not just one makeover. This guy has changed his face several times, and I do mean changed.” Tina pointed to the cheeks and the jaw area.
“All of his teeth are implants so no chance of dental and also his fingerprints have been surgically removed. His facial features have been altered as well: cheeks, nose, chin. Well you get the idea.” McCall nodded.
“Just like someone else who paid a visit.” The ME and Sam looked at this strange man on the slab. At first glance he was Mr Average, Mr Everyday.
“So there is no way of finding out who our mystery boy was?” Tina threw a file to McCall.
“I found some plates and pins in him, many in the legs and arms. He was Sergeant Luck Powell of SEAL Team 3, and he disappeared after an operation went wrong and the team were taken out. It was a set-up to get the team there and take them out. There were only two survivors: Sergeant Powell and Sergeant John Steel.”
McCall’s mouth fell open. Her friend and sometime lover, John Steel, had said a bit about his past but never mentioned that. As far as she was aware, he had left the service to join the police department. She looked down at Powell’s body and shook her head, still thinking back to that terrible day in the hotel, when he’d been killed.
“I don’t know what to make of him,” Sam said thoughtfully. “Was he a killer with morals?” Tina shot a look at McCall.
“What makes you say that?” McCall picked up a hint of anger in Tina’s voice.
“He could have quite easily killed both Tooms and me but he didn’t. When he put you in the freezer he phoned all of us to ensure someone found you.” Tina could see Sam’s point but was reluctant to concede it. As far as she was concerned, whoever shot him did the world a favour.
“Any more good news?” McCall joked, but Tina wasn’t smiling.
“The ballistics came back from the gun Tony handed in. It definitely was the weapon used to shoot Jones—I mean Powell, you know what I mean.”
McCall looked up from reading through the report on Powell.
“So Tony was the shooter. Why would he lie?”
Tina looked uneasy as she shifted from one foot to the other.
“That gun was also used in several other homicides.” McCall felt faint. Could it be that Tony was the mole?
“What homicides?” McCall forced the question out, her mouth feeling dry and sickly.
“All your shootings, the ones you’re now investigating, were done with the same weapon. Somehow someone has been able to replicate the same ballistic signatures in two guns.” McCall sat silent for a minute.
“So what you are saying is, if we caught two people with two guns that fired in exactly the same way, we couldn’t do a damn thing because we would have no way of proving which of them was used to kill someone?” Tina nodded—her sorrowful look said it all. Sam breathed in a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment, letting all this new information wash over her.
“Did we get any prints on the weapon, the one Tony gave up, I mean?” she asked, her eyes remaining shut as she waited for an answer.
Tina searched the notes. “Yes. Prints were found on the slide and the grip.”
McCall’s eyes opened wide.
“Was that it? Nowhere else?” Tina rechecked the report and shrugged.
“No, fingerprints were only found there. Why?” McCall swung her legs backwards and forwards from the knee, like a schoolgirl.
“Get CSU to dust all of the weapon again and include the magazine and bullets please.” Tina made a note of it.
“What are you thinking, that he was set up?” Sam shrugged.
“I suppose next you’re going to say that Powell never killed anyone, it was someone else,” Tina guessed.
McCall looked up at Tina with a strange look as if she’d suddenly realised something.
“Uh huh, no way, don’t you even think it.” She jumped down from her perch and ran for the door.
“Thanks, Tina. If get anything else I’ll be uptown.” When she’d gone, Tina sneakily took out her phone and pressed the dial icon and waited.
“Hi, it’s me again.” The M E laughed seductively.
As McCall rode the elevator up she pulled out her cell phone, then she paused before going through the contact numbers. She was about to make a call, a call she hoped she would never have to make, to speak to someone she hoped she would never have to speak to again. She located his number under the code ‘ASSHOLE’, and she pressed the dial button and waited while it rang. Part of her hoped he wouldn’t be there to pick up, but she needed information that only he could get.
“Agent Bryce, can I help you?” She closed her eyes as the sound of his voice reawakened so much anger in her.
“Bryce, it’s Sam...McCall. We need to talk.” There was a silence. She sincerely hoped that the sound of her voice had made him fall off his chair but she wasn’t that lucky. “The place, fifteen minutes.” The line went dead, but that suited her. Talking to him made her skin crawl. She put her phone away and breathed out a long indrawn breath. “Alex Bryce, God, I hope it’s worth it,” she whispered.
TWENTY-EIGHT
The huge ship cut through the giant waves like a child’s toy at bath time. Even though its massive tonnage held it firm, the powerful waves heaved it upwards on the back of Poseidon’s steeds. The blackened clouds above flashed with power, releasing bolts of white streaks that turned the heavens an eerie purple.
They were approaching the eye of the storm and the wrath of nature, as the ship remained true and steady. The passengers and some of the crew hid themselves away in their cabins as they felt the vessel heave up and down. The ship had been locked down and anything breakable had been made secure as much as possible. Shops, bars and restaurants were closed until the all-clear order was given.
Captain Tobias Long stood on the bridge of his ship, watching the heavens give a terrifying display of raw power. “How are we doing, number one?” he asked the tall officer who had walked over to him.
“So far no casualties, the ship is taking it in her stride,” the officer reassured him. “Passengers and non-essential crew are in their quarters as you instructed.”
Long nodded as he took out his cell phone and sent a text.
“Very good, number one, Thank you.” The officer looked at the captain strangely, the way he had said ‘thank you’ sounded more as if he was saying ‘goodbye’.
Steel looked at his watch. It was quarter to four and he had to get to that room. He moved down the corridor quickly with the silenced .45 calibre Glock held up, ready to take out any of the mercenaries if necessary. He moved the weapon in a sweeping motion as he went, covering the area. Then as he turned the final corner, he saw two large men standing by the door.
Steel smiled and holstered the weapon.
“Hey, buddy, this is a private matter so scram!” yelled one of the two, a man who was completely bald.
John kept smiling as he approached.
“It’s okay, fellers, I am expected.” The bald man shook his head disapprovingly and stuck his hand out to stop the newcomer’s approach.
“Do you really want this?” Steel frowned as the man prepared to take a swing.
Tia had joined them at the chairs. She could have stood, but her feet were killing her from wearing the black high-heeled shoes. Blacke had lit up a huge Cuban he had produced from the inside pocket of his black suit and was busy making smoke rings. The air was thick with the musty smell of the burning hand-rolled leaves.
“So, when do we start business, Mr Blacke?” asked a nervous Albert Studebaker.
Blacke turned and looked at him and gave a brief smile before taking another puff from his cigar.
“I mean to say, what if we are
disturbed?” Albert blustered on. “Someone could walk in and.....”
Blacke shook his head. The large elderly American man’s nervousness was making him suspicious. “Don’t worry. As you heard, all passengers and crew are to stay in their quarters. Also, Mr Vedas has two large gentlemen guarding the door. Trust me, Mr. Studebaker, absolutely no one is getting into this room.”
The doors burst open and one of the guards flew in, landing next to a white concrete pillar. The other guard was dragged in by the collar and dumped next to his unconscious partner.
“Mr. Black, what in heaven’s name are you doing?” asked Bob.
John Steel stood before them, the machine pistol held tight in both hands.
“Everyone against the window. Move!” Everyone stood up with a look of complete surprise on their faces and started to walk slowly.
“Is this is your doing? Did you make all this happen?” Tia demanded, her eyes red with build-up of disappointed tears as she yelled at him. Steel looked down at his watch: there were five minutes to go. Steel cocked the weapon and opened up, spraying bullets indiscriminately.
The group dived for cover as the large window exploded outwards, sending broken shards out into the wind. Steel released the empty magazine from its housing and let it drop to the ground. Taking out a fresh magazine from the ammo pouch on his left leg, he clicked it into place and ran over to the window.
“Everyone move closer to the window!” he yelled over the roar of the wind that howled past them and into the large room. They all looked up at the speakers as a strange voice came over the microphone:
“Ladies and gentlemen, on behalf of the new crew I bid you all a good night and pleasant dreams.”
The group ran towards the broken windows as a strange green cloud began to seep out of the air ducts. But the blustering wind carried the knockout gas to the back of the room, where it eventually dissipated.
“Okay, will someone tell me what the hell is going on here?” yelled a red-faced Albert Studebaker. Steel ignored him, frantically searching the room to see if he could find the storm shield controls.
“What the hell you looking for, boy?” Albert yelled over the howling wind.
“The storm shield controls,” John replied. Everyone stared at him blankly.
“The what?” Tia shouted.
Steel moved closer to them all so they could hear what he said. “The storm shield was created for all the larger windows to help protect them from adverse weather conditions; it’s a bit like the roller blinds that roll down like a garage door. It will keep the storm out but give us fresh air at the same time.”
The group separated, looking for the controls. As they moved off Steel turned towards the open door, just in time to see two mercenaries wearing gas masks come through it. The men rushed in and were suddenly surprised by the forceful wind that was blowing furiously through the missing window. Steel had ducked down behind one of the large leather couches and prepared himself.
The bad guys moved in slowly, trying to figure out what the problem was. “Control, yes that alarm was set off in the smoking lounge. Yeah, you should see it, the whole damn window’s gone,” said one of the men into the intercom in his gas mask. “Where’s the shield control? By the bar, okay, Roger that.” Steel looked into the large mirror to see the men’s position, and then he caught a glimpse of Tia, disappearing behind the bar. He had to get to them without making a scene.
Steel moved silently out of cover and across the room. Luckily the noise from the wind would mask any sound of footsteps. He moved from cover to cover, ensuring he was not in the view of the mirror. The men walked slowly, hampered by the storm’s blasting wind. Steel moved up to the man at the rear and held him in a neck-lock, cutting off his oxygen long enough to render him unconscious. Slowly he laid him down and moved to the next one. Steel was almost upon him when something crashed at the back of him, causing the mercenary to turn round.
“Would sir like anything from the bar?” Steel joked as he kicked the man in the chest with a straight-leg kick. The mercenary careered backwards and raised his machine pistol, firing it as it swept upwards, but Steel managed to dive out of the way in time and waited for the click of an empty magazine. He came back, aiming to catch the man before he could reload. The mercenary threw his weapon at Steel, hoping to distract him. John batted away the weapon and came straight for him. The men locked and exchanged punches and kicks, before Steel grabbed the man and rolled, throwing him far across the room towards the open window. Steel rolled back over so he was now kneeling, then sprang up and ran at the mercenary, who had spotted his weapon. Steel ran forward towards the man and then leapt at him, using a double-footed kick; the man staggered backwards from the impact but shook it off and smiled
The mercenary reached behind him and drew out a large combat knife; Steel saw the light reflect off the blade as he moved it slowly, ready for the next attack. Steel grabbed one of the magazines from his leg pouch and held it tight. The two men circled each other, each waiting for the other to make the first move. The mercenary sprang first, swishing with the blade, trying to slice at a piece of this new foe, but each time Steel caught him with a jam to the upper thigh or the arm. The man swung again but was met with two swift stabbings to the eyelets on his mask, then a kick to the middle. The man stumbled backwards; dazed, he ripped off the mask and growled at Steel.
Steel never saw Blacke pick up the gun from the unconscious mercenary. But he did feel the first round pass by his ear before it lodged in the flesh of the mercenary’s leg and torso. Steel dived for cover as Blacke just kept on firing until Steel got up and snatched it from him. John then rushed over to the dying mercenary.
“Who do you work for and why are you here?” he yelled at him.
The dying man mouthed words but no sound came out, until eventually his eyes stared into nothing and his lips stopped moving. Steel turned round and strode towards Blacke.
“It’s okay, everyone, you can thank me later,” Blacke said smugly.
Steel grabbed him by the throat and threw him to the ground. “What the hell do you think you were doing?” Blacke looked shocked, then became angry.
“Look, pal, I just saved your life and this is the thanks I get!”
Steel grabbed him by the lapels and lifted him up so they were face to face.
“I wouldn’t have been in that situation if you hadn’t knocked something over, now would I? I needed them alive so I could find out what the hell is going on. And as for saving my life, I doubt it.” Steel threw Blacke aside and headed for the second mercenary but he was also dead: a trail of bullet holes reached up from where the mercenary had started to shoot and they ended in his chest and head.
John Steel kicked one of the coffee tables, sending it up in the air.
“Just great, Blacke, thanks very much,” yelled Steel as he headed for the bar and the control panel. Finding the switch, he activated the shutters and watched them come down and lock off at the bottom. The room was silent for the first time in what seemed like ages.
He moved over to the first mercenary and started to take his ammo and anything else that could prove useful—he found his shoulder radio but it was shot to pieces.
“So what’s with the private party?” Steel asked Blacke as he checked the second man for useful items.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Blacke announced, trying to look innocent and failing.
“You’re all here for a private meeting,” John continued.
“CIA, FSB and the rich couple, so my instincts tell me you guys are having a sale. So what’s on offer? And I bet I can offer the best deal.”
The Russian man, Vedas, moved to the bar and put a bottle of vodka on the counter and started to pour himself a shot in one of the small glasses, while the others sat on the chairs, shaken by the experience.
“So, Mr. Blacke, how are you involved in all of this?” John persevered.
Blacke shook his head and waved his hand.
“Not
me, sorry, I don’t know anything about any of this.” He sat down and crossed one leg over the other.
“That’s strange because you’re obviously selling something,” John surmised. “And those mercenaries are looking for you because you stole something from them. So do you want to start again? Or shall I just throw you outside where these guys can find you and they can just go on their way?” Tia shot Steel a puzzled look.
“What makes you think they will just leave?” The investigator looked at her seriously. “They used knockout gas. That means they want everyone alive. They just want to get their stuff, and get out without a trace. Killing everyone is not on their agenda. These people prefer anonymity.” Steel looked at Blacke with angry eyes.
“So, Mr Blacke, what did you steal from these people that made them so upset that they want what they’ve lost, and your head on a plate?”
Blacke said nothing, just sat there looking at the shattered window
“Does any of you know what you’re buying into?” They all shook their heads.
“We heard that he had found some sunken cargo from a ship that went down in New York around a month ago,” Jane Stewart piped up.
“The ship was supposedly smuggling weapons, so naturally when we heard the Russians were interested we jumped on board.”
Vedas looked up, shocked.
“That is the same for us also.” He stared at Blacke who was now avoiding everyone’s eyes.
Steel turned and gave a snort of laughter.
“So no one has any idea what is in the cargo? He has played you both for suckers.” Steel glared at Blacke.
“You have no idea what’s in the cargo, do you?”
Blacke looked around and then at the floor before shaking his head. “No. There is a digital lock on the cases and I didn’t have the key.”
John sat down on the arm of one of the leather armchairs. “So how were you going to show the merchandise if you couldn’t get at it?” Then he thought back to the captain. “Wait a minute. Walter, the boy from the engineer’s deck, gave something to the captain, something that got him killed. You found someone with a key, didn’t you? And then you got double-crossed. Tell me, whose idea was it to do business on the ship?”
Operation:UNITY (John Steel series Book 2) Page 32
