The NightShade Forensic Files: Fracture Five (Book 2)

by A. J. Scudiere

  “Sure, but she matched the outfit I was wearing the day it arrived. And the package was waiting in a room Donovan had just picked. I don’t turn down protection of any kind, let alone that kind.”

  Eleri laughed. “You also researched the hell out of it, didn’t you?”

  “I did.” Vasquez clutched the grisgris through her shirt with one hand while with the other she finished arranging her things. Then she once again turned her tablet to face Eleri. “This is what I have on the militia.”

  She pushed a piece of paper across the table at the two of them. As Donovan took his seat, Eleri realized she heard the coffee maker burbling and she felt something decent seep into her bones at the sound. She scanned the list. “It’s what? Forty-five people?”

  “Sixty plus. Though I’m not sure they’re all currently active. The problem is that they very well might be networked.” At Donovan’s frown, Marina continued. “There are well over fifteen hundred active militias in the U.S. today. And that’s just known, anti-government militias.”

  “There are other types?” He asked.

  “Sure, religious—”

  “Our Texas case bordered on that. They were a cult that also armed themselves heavily. But they were probably a cult first.” Eleri explained.

  “Yeah, those aren’t counted in these numbers. Neither are those who are pro-government, but consider themselves their own small branch of the military. They train in their own time, in their own way, and aren’t planning to overthrow the government, but to protect it when our regular military fails or needs help. Then there’s the gun-nuts who form groups. They love guns and they get organized and train. So not really military-like even though they like to play war games and wear camo.” Marina sighed. “This group is definitely anti-government. No religious affiliation.”

  “The one thing we managed to weasel out of Mrs. Deen is that those guns are from her sons’ group.” Eleri added, not sure if Marina already knew that.

  “And Cooper Rollins was right. Those guns were U.S. Army issue. Special order, serial numbers track back to the Army holdings. They should never have been in the hands of civilians.”

  Something about the look in the other agent’s eyes made Eleri tip her head.

  Marina held her hand up. “You do not want to know the earful I got from the Army. Where were they? How had I gotten them? No, they were not FBI evidence but U.S. military property.” She sighed. “He threatened to put me in jail.”

  “We won’t let that happen.” Eleri reached out.

  “There are actually quite a few agents named Vasquez. So he can probably find me, but it should at least take him a while.” She sighed. “I hung up on him, but I can’t get prosecuted for rudeness.”

  Eleri tried to steer away from that. Vasquez couldn’t get prosecuted for her work, but Eleri had seen harassment from a person or group in one branch toward another. It wasn’t pretty. It would get less pretty if Eleri and Donovan identified exactly how the Army guns were leaking out of U.S. holdings. It happened all the time, to be frank, but Eleri was trying to prove that this was an organized operation.

  Marina’s voice brought her thoughts back to the table. “Here’s what I have.”

  She started scrolling through dual pages. One side had a head shot, most of the time. The other side listed bio info about the person. Eleri took over, Vasquez had put this all together, so she’d already seen it.

  Starting back at the beginning, she looked over each one.

  “This.” Marina pointed to the first one—Madden Deen. “This is the son that came to the house and left, the one Cooper and Walter followed. Word is he’s the front man. Known in the community. He’s got a law degree but only uses it on constitutional cases. Keeps up relations with a few local businesses.”

  Eleri showed it to Donovan. “Would you recognize him? Did you get to see him?”

  Donovan pulled the tablet closer. “Not at all. I was trying to hold that old woman together.”

  Eleri felt her eyebrows go up.

  “Hey.” He protested at her look. “So my bedside manner sucks? I’m an FBI agent with special skills and I think she was a rank bitch. You should have seen her in the ambulance. Tried to stab the EMT with a needle.”

  Eleri nodded in concession and went to the next picture, then the next. “Hey. This is another Deen son, right?”

  She turned the page on Maxim Deen around to face Marina, who nodded back at her. “He’s the oldest. Rarely leaves the compound. Runs the drills. Up to his neck in this shit. It fact, the shit is so bad, that the FBI already has agents on them and is looking to run a raid. They’d already figured out the group isn’t just practicing but running guns they’re getting through U.S. military lines. I may have almost messed that up a little bit.”

  When Eleri looked up, Marina explained. “Let’s just say it’s a good thing that Walter Reed and Cooper were tailing them and not any of us. Those two—if they are identified—are ex-military. They could maybe, maybe claim they wanted in on the action. But if agents had been seen tailing a Deen boy to the compound it would have blown a year’s worth of plans.”

  “Ouch. So we need to get together with these agents.” Eleri added.

  “Exactly. That’s our eight a.m.”

  Eleri frowned and looked at her phone, the meeting was now in one hour.

  Eleri motioned to Donovan about the time. Marina didn’t notice as she was at the refrigerator reaching for more to drink. The junior agent might need a blood transfusion when this was all over. Not that Eleri was doing much better.

  She held up the phone to show Marina. “So we’re on for this ASAP?”

  The junior agent nodded. “I set it up at three a.m. Honestly, I let you sleep as long as I thought I could.”

  She had. But this was not the eight a.m. meeting Eleri had been expecting. Marina was left waiting while they cycled through the showers. Eleri had to dry her hair. She wasn’t going out walking the streets of L.A. trying to dress so she could blend in at a meeting or hop the fence at the Square. She was heading into a full FBI investigation—non-NightShade.

  She asked Donovan to get in touch with Westerfield and get some guidance on how to proceed with an interlocking investigation.

  When she was finally ready, there were only about ten minutes to spare. Eleri entered the main room as Donovan was slipping into his lightweight suit jacket. She hadn’t realized before that Marina had arrived ready for the meeting.

  Eleri looked to Donovan. Had he talked to Westerfield? His small shrug said no. They were going into this with no guidance, and once again Eleri fought the nagging sensation that Westerfield was poised to leave them under the bus should anything go wrong.

  “Are you set to present this?” Eleri asked Marina, “You did all the research. We haven’t even read it all. Grab your shit, people. Let’s go see what’s up at the compound.”

  They were in the conference room, having just poured round two of coffee for the morning, when two other agents walked in. Eleri was disappointed. She’d harbored a secret hope that she would know one of them, but she didn’t.

  They nodded and sat down, the older gentleman looking like a kindly grandfather with a stern Bureau gaze. For a moment she thought he might be wondering when they started letting women into the bureau, he looked that old and that set. But luckily when he opened his mouth he seemed to have none of that good-old-boy vibe.

  “Agents.” He nodded, barely bothering with introductions. “Vasquez tells us you have a case that intersects with our investigation of the anti-government militia in Fontana.”

  It was a statement, not a question. Eleri had no idea what Marina had told them other than, yes, it did seem to intersect. She sat down, mug in hand, and leaned forward. “I sure hope so. Ours is all over the map. But it looks like big time terrorism and it seems your guys are involved.”

  They started by matching the address—or coordinates—of the physical location that Walter and Cooper had followed the yellow coupe to.
>
  “You had agents follow them to the front gates?” The younger one leaned forward this time, his tone clearly conveying what he really wanted to say. How could you be so stupid? It was the older agent who put a hand on his arm and held him back mentally if not physically.

  “They didn’t know. They followed a lead that brought them to our front door.” He shook his head. “I’ve always thought we should have a fucking newsletter or something that said, ‘hey, here are the other cases in your area.’ So shit like this wouldn’t happen.”

  “You followed someone off the main roads!” The younger one yelled, the hand-on-arm move having not really worked. “Where the hell did you think that car was going? A yellow sports coupe with black racing stripes and guns in the back seat. What else could it have done?” He went on about how they were so stupid, making sure to aim his vitriol equally at all three of them.

  Marina flinched. Eleri moved her leg to touch Donovan’s in a signal, then sat still, waiting with a purely flat expression. When he ran out of steam, she made sure she sounded bored as hell. “Are you finished?”

  At least the older agent wasn’t mad. He just seemed a bit embarrassed by his partner. There was no right to be angry, but many agents didn’t recognize that when their hard work was compromised by other agents just doing their jobs. Eleri had been on both sides of it, but she’d never yelled at anyone for what they hadn’t known. So she was ready to pick up and walk out if the agent went off again. When he didn’t, she asked another question. “Are you ready to hear what really happened or would you like to keep bitching about the way you made it up in your head? Because I have shit to do.”

  At least he looked contrite as he sat down. He was still angry, but he was finished.

  So Eleri turned her attention back to the older—more sane—agent. “The coupe didn’t have guns in it. The guns were in our possession at the time after stopping the attempted murder of Mrs. Deen.” Eleri pulled up the picture and turned it around. “I believe she’s the mother of the group’s leader?”

  The older one nodded, and Eleri tried to aim her discussion toward what was important to them until she had things more sorted out. “The guns came to Mrs. Deen’s house with a delivery woman named Sarah. No last name yet. Now deceased. Madden Deen, another son of hers, pulled up in a different car—which we have impounded—checked the front door, saw the body of the deceased and left in the yellow coupe.” Then she turned her attention to the younger agent, “So you can sure as hell bet we followed that car. I’m just sorry your people weren’t already on it. By the way, it was two Army consultants who followed them, so not agents at all. And the second turned around about five miles back, once they realized where he was heading.” She stared a moment, daring him to call Walter and Cooper stupid again. Then she explained the connection to the Jewish cell, asked if they knew about Sarah? Alya, Aziza?

  “Those are women. Muslim women?” The older agent asked. “So what makes you think they’re involved?”

  “Honestly, sir, it’s brilliant. They violate the dictates of a strong religious order, but they do it for ‘God’s work’ or ‘Allah’s’ or ‘Saint Issa’ and no one suspects them. Think about it. Almost our entire terror watch list is men. No one is watching these women. Except us.” She pointed at the three on her side of the table. Then she turned the conversation back to the compound, since they didn’t seem to know much about the cells’ agendas or why Sarah would try to kill Mrs. Deen. In fact, if the ricin poisoning worked, she still might succeed. But the other two agents did know about other gun deals.

  “That’s the Indian group.” Donovan pointed to a trade location on the map they gave.

  Eleri shook her head. “The address was phantom.”

  “It’s a letter and number off on each part. It’s not phantom, just coded. Look.” Donovan pulled it up, suddenly in the mix after having been silent for most of the time.

  “You know the group they were selling to? We have nothing on them.” The younger agent frowned but was civil, now that the trio had proved to have something he wanted. What a dick.

  “We don’t have much. Only that they exist. They committed a murder associated with a string of murders and we think they’re in line to be part of a coordinated terrorist attack.”

  He explained a little more about the groups and Eleri let him. Being a brick wall to an asshole was draining, but she kept up the front.

  “Can we have a few minutes?” the older agent asked.

  Though he was polite, Eleri had had enough. “Certainly.”

  So she kept her butt planted in the seat and took a careful sip of her coffee while looking toward the door. They could leave. The message was clear.

  With a nod of acceptance for the assholery his associate had displayed, the older agent pulled a few papers to head to the hallway.

  Eleri waited until the door closed.

  Marina breathed out a sigh of relief, and words followed right on its heels. “You were so badass. I want to be you when I grow up.”

  Eleri laughed out loud, some of the tension leaving her.

  “At least you didn’t do that thing with your eyes.” Donovan said before he realized. Then he covered quickly, leaning toward Marina. “She gets this glare that no one else can do.”

  He gave her a slight tip of the head indicating that he hadn’t lied. She still hadn’t seen what he had, so she dismissed it. “Let’s get something done. I can hear the clock ticking on this one. I’m just hoping the younger one can get the big stick out of his ass and be useful.”

  Marina smiled again, but picked up with info over her cup of coffee from where they’d left off in the apartment earlier. “There are four Deen boys total. Actually there are ten Deen kids, but some are cousins. Gotta love that. Four are Mrs. Deen’s kids, probably part of why she’s not talking. The third oldest is Madden—who came to the house. Second is Magnus. He’s ex-Army, the only one who served. The general consensus on him is that he served solely to get information for the militia. Guess where he was stationed?”

  “Fallujah.” Eleri and Donovan said together, almost like it was a game show. Then Eleri added. “We have to get these photos to Cooper and even Walter. See if they know this guy. It’s a long shot, but . . .”

  She made mental notes of task after task that had to be completed. If anything fell through the cracks, the world just might burn. She turned back to Marina. “Who’s the fourth son?”

  “Marvel.”

  “Marvel?” Donovan asked, right as Eleri was asking “Are you serious?”

  Marina sat down again even as she shrugged. “Ran out of M names? Maybe she was high?”

  Flipping through the screens, Eleri almost passed him in the short bios, but she recognized the face. “He’s the one who bumped me downtown.”

  Eleri looked at the two of them. Did they know what that meant?

  “What?” Donovan looked at her.

  “Marvel Deen. He made me.” She almost whispered it. “They made me. Before I even knew they existed. Our groups have been working in explosives, knives, that kind of thing up until now. They’re only just now getting guns into the picture. But the militia that’s supplying them, or whatever, realized we were on it and they put a tracker on me!”

  Her heart was racing. That was bad.

  He’d come by after Walter had helped her out of that little altercation with the lobomau. If he was paying attention, he’d seen Walter, too. If they’d spotted Walter at the compound . . . If they had security that got facial pictures of the drivers going by—and they had to have that—then he could pull out Walter as being associated in some way with the FBI. With Eleri.

  Her brain turned over. “So even if these agents don’t know about the cells, the militia sure does. Enough to loop back around to me. Other than being a Bureau agent, I’m not associated with the militia case at all. Hell, I’m not even on the Los Angeles roster. Fuck.” Her brain turned over yet again. “Donovan?”

  “I’m on it.” He already
had his phone to his ear. “Walter?”

  It was all she heard over the pounding of blood in her veins.

  When she focused, she heard him asking Walter to come down and ID names and faces. She was shaking her head ‘no’ and he was nodding ‘yes’ as the other two agents returned.

  Donovan’s voice was clear to all of them. “Wherever you are, get out fast and get out clean. It’s not safe. Let us know when you’re in route.”

  “You’re pulling your operative?”

  Eleri pushed the tablet forward. “Your guy, Marvel Deen, tagged me with a tracker downtown two days ago when I was trailing one of our main cell operatives. Whatever you don’t know about the cells, I’m pretty certain your militia guys do.”

  The agents didn’t flinch at the barb. But the older one ran his hand through his hair. “They’ve been ramping up these past few weeks. More than the past months. About nine months ago they went from a watch list to active investigation because of their change in quantity—”

  Eleri interrupted. “That’s when our cells started getting active.”

  “Shit.”

  The younger agent picked up the slack. “They ramped up again about a month ago—doubling their supply and sales. More of them moved out to the compound. There are more drills, and they’ve been running ground-to-air missiles for three months now.”

  He paused, but then continued.

  “We have reason to believe they’re planning an attack in two days at the most. Maybe today.”

  Eleri’s blood ran cold.

  40

  Cooper Rollins was in ‘go along to get along’ mode. It wasn’t a place he was comfortable, but comfortable had left his sphere the day he’d turned his rifle on his teammates.

  This was particularly bad, though.

  He had the backpack over his shoulder and was walking down the street as though he didn’t have the means to blow them all to high hell. If he hadn’t carried explosives before, if he didn’t know how to double-check the damn thing himself, if, if, if .o . .