Return Fire (Sam Archer )

by Tom Barber

  There was a pause.

  ‘Whoever took her definitely knows who she is.’

  ‘But why kidnap her?’ Ethan asked. ‘Something from her past?’

  ‘That’s what I’m thinking,’ Shepherd said. ‘Pull up her file.’

  Ethan’s fingers quickly flickered across the keypad and a few moments later the news report was replaced by Vargas’ police bio.

  The file photo had been taken just a few months ago when she’d joined the NYPD; she was in official uniform looking straight at the camera, her black hair tied back neatly and a hint of a smile at the edges of her mouth. Archer felt his stomach clench as he saw the snap, Vargas suddenly joining them in the room, part of the team.

  ‘3rd Grade NYPD Detective Alice Vargas,’ Ethan read as the group all looked at her file on the screen. ‘Twenty eight years old, born in Los Angeles to Elaine and Raul Vargas. Raised in Reseda, California.’

  He scrolled down.

  ‘Parents divorced soon after she was born; she lived with her mother and attended Reseda High School. Ended up working a 9-5 in LA for a few years then quit and signed up to the Police Academy when she was twenty five. Since then, she’s former LAPD, Miami-Dade PD, a United States Marshal and currently NYPD.’

  He paused, studying her history.

  ‘Holy shit; all that in three years?’

  ‘It’s a long story,’ Shepherd said. ‘But including New York, that’s four different career locations.’

  He turned to his team.

  ‘Four separate places to make enemies.’

  ‘So let’s start with the most recent, right here in New York,’ Josh said. ‘All NYPD detectives are potential targets.’

  ‘I agree,’ Archer said. ‘But this isn’t something from New York.’

  ‘How can you know?’

  ‘She works out of this Bureau and pretty much everything we do here is covert. Not much use being a counter-terrorist cop if the players on the other side know everything about you.’

  ‘Plus she’s only worked here for a few months,’ Marquez continued, agreeing with Archer. ‘We’ve all seen the cases she’s been involved in. How much trouble could you stir up in that timeframe when the other side don’t have a clue who you are?’

  Shepherd turned to her. ‘You’re Vargas’ partner out there in the field. Has she been caught up in anything unusual that you can think of? Anything at all?’

  Marquez shook her head. ‘Nothing. This can’t be someone she’s encountered in New York. Surely we’d have noticed anything out of the ordinary if it was?’

  Shepherd thought for a moment.

  ‘OK, so that’s one option struck off,’ he said. ‘Let’s move backwards chronologically. Before us, she was a member of the Marshals Service and Miami-Dade PD prior to that.’

  ‘Her work in both seems to have been wrapped up too,’ Ethan said, reading the file. ‘There’s a lot of history there, but no apparent loose ends.’

  Shepherd, Josh and Marquez all glanced at Archer, who nodded, suddenly taken back four months.

  ‘Yeah, I can vouch for that,’ he said.

  ‘So already that’s three out of the four options void,’ Josh said. ‘Leaves us just with her time in LA.’

  ‘She worked a squad car for two years after the Academy,’ Ethan read, scrolling down on the file, everyone looking at it up on the screen. ‘Partner was an older veteran called Alvarez.’

  ‘Where was their beat?’ Shepherd asked.

  ‘Inglewood, then a few months in Chinatown before she was transferred to Miami.’

  ‘A lot of gangs have links around the world,’ Josh said. ‘It’s conceivable she could have pissed someone off and they tracked her down.’

  ‘For what, issuing a parking ticket?’ Marquez said, reading the file on the screen. ‘Look at her record. It’s innocuous.’

  ‘But she shot someone,’ Ethan said, pointing. ‘Bottom of the screen.’

  The team all focused where his finger was aimed. As he read the notation, Shepherd’s eyes narrowed; Ethan was right.

  ‘Open it up.’

  Ethan tapped a few keys and the official LAPD police report appeared on the screen.

  ‘Shootout in Chinatown,’ he read. ‘Vargas put two guys down. One of them had to have the lower portion of his arm amputated due to a later infection.’

  ‘Cause of the gunfight?’

  ‘They held up a liquor store,’ Ethan read. ‘Vargas and Alvarez were first to respond. Apparently these guys decided to bang it out on the street so they had no choice but to take cover and fire back.’

  ‘She and her partner shot two gang members,’ Josh said. ‘There’s motive.’

  Ethan pulled up another window and searched for the incident, drawing up the report. Vargas’s file was momentarily replaced by two LAPD profiles of the two gang members. They both had shaved heads and tattoos on their necks, both with tear drops tattooed under their right eyes. Studying them, Archer knew that certain gang members were rewarded with a tear tattoo whenever they killed someone; it wasn’t the smartest thing to do if you wanted to beat a murder rap, but it sure as hell sent a message to people who might be thinking about crossing you.

  ‘Emilio Sanchez and Rodrigo Fuentes,’ Ethan said. ‘Both Surenos; Mexican Mafia.’

  He pointed at the photo on the right.

  ‘Fuentes is the one who lost his lower arm. But I guess it doesn’t matter anymore.’

  ‘Why?’ Shepherd asked.

  ‘He’s dead. Stabbed to death in prison six months into his sentence. And Sanchez is doing life for murder at Pelican Bay.’

  ‘Nevertheless Vargas still put two bullets in Fuentes,’ Josh said. ‘And after she dropped him, he went to jail for six months before he was killed. That’s a lot of time to think about revenge; especially when you’re sitting in a cell all day.’

  ‘But he died some time ago,’ Archer replied, unconvinced. ‘And these guys are street bangers, not criminal masterminds. Even if they had friends who were determined to get revenge, there’s no way they could track Alice down. Not from Miami to the Marshals service to New York, and definitely not to Spain.’

  He shook his head.

  ‘It’s got nothing to do with them. They don’t have the connections. For guys like this, LA is their entire world.’

  Leaning forward in his chair, Archer cursed quietly, frustrated and worried as Ethan brought Vargas’ file back onto the screen.

  Four options from Alice’s past, all seemingly dead ends. He’d been banking on this being a ransom case, but with no obvious suspects he realised Josh could be right.

  Her kidnappers might not even know who she is.

  No ransom calls. No witnesses.

  And no trace of Vargas.

  As the thoughts crossed his mind, Archer felt his stomach grip.

  He was suddenly starting to feel a hell of a lot worse about this.

  FIVE

  ‘Let’s take another look at the present, not her past,’ Shepherd said. He turned to Archer. ‘She moved in with you recently, right?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Three weeks ago, from Brooklyn.’

  ‘You seen anyone hanging around outside your apartment lately?’

  Archer paused, thinking about it. He’d been so distracted with work and all the shit he and Vargas were dealing with that he realised he hadn’t been paying as much attention as he normally would have.

  ‘I don’t think so. But it’s New York; there’re always people on the streets.’

  ‘Any of them catch your attention?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Is Vargas well off? Financially?’

  ‘Same as the rest of us.’

  ‘Family connected?’

  Archer shook his head. ‘Mother died over a decade ago and she never knew her father.’

  Pause.

  ‘I still think the kidnappers could be people who only saw her in Spain this week,’ Josh said, his argument seeming more plausible by the second. ‘People who never encounter
ed her before.’

  Behind his laptop, Ethan frowned. ‘But like Arch said, why would they go to so much trouble? And why Vargas?’

  ‘Trafficking.’

  The word hung in the room as a silence descended.

  Josh paused a beat.

  ‘We have to consider the possibility. Exporting women is a growing problem worldwide, especially in Europe, and Vargas isn’t exactly hard to look at.’

  ‘It’s possible,’ Shepherd said eventually, glancing over at Archer.

  As he went to continue, the phone on the desk suddenly rang. Shepherd picked up the receiver, the other three detectives all watching as he took the call.

  ‘Shepherd.’

  He listened for a moment.

  ‘OK, put him through,’ he said, pushing the loudspeaker button on the phone and placing the receiver back on its base.

  ‘Hello?’ a voice said.

  ‘Travis?’

  ‘Speaking.’

  ‘This is Sergeant Matt Shepherd, Counter-Terrorism Bureau. You’re on speakerphone; as well as myself, there are three of my detectives and an analyst in the room. I’m leading the investigation into Detective Vargas’ disappearance. What have you got?’

  ‘Good news, sir; well, kind of. The blood test results just came back from the lab.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘There were four different types. Three have come back with a match.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘One of them was Detective Vargas.’

  Across the table from Shepherd, Archer’s knuckles tightened.

  ‘The other samples belong to two men called Milo Stanovich and Ibrahim Payan.’

  Shepherd frowned. ‘Who are they?’

  ‘Slovakian immigrants living in the UK. Both men have extensive criminal records; they’ve each been convicted for prostitution, drug usage and sex trafficking.’

  ‘Age?’

  ‘Early thirties.’

  ‘Where are they based?’

  ‘Currently in London. The Metropolitan Police have been informed; apparently they sent officers to each man’s last known address but there’s been no sign of either of them. Wherever they are right now, they’re laying low.’

  ‘Who’s to say they’re even in the UK?’ Archer said. ‘They could be anywhere in Europe with her.’

  ‘We considered that, but both men are back in the city.’

  ‘How can you be so sure?’ Shepherd asked.

  ‘Stanovich ordered a pizza from a twenty four hour joint forty minutes ago. Paid over the phone using his bank card and took delivery on a street corner in South London. Police are checking the surrounding area and already have the delivery man in for questioning, but it’s not looking promising. Seeing as the guy had already paid, the delivery man hardly spent any time with him. Just handed over the pizza and left.’

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘It looks like Stanovich didn’t even pick it up though, so he couldn’t have been arrested at the scene. His file says he’s six foot five and has a shaved head, but the delivery guy said the man who collected the pizza was nearer six foot and had blond hair.’

  ‘And Payan?’

  ‘He called his girlfriend just over thirty minutes ago saying he’d just got back from a trip and that he’d see her later today. Call was too quick to trace, but Met police are with her and her house is under surveillance. Judging by the timing of the two incidents, it seems likely they arrived back together.’

  ‘So what’s happening now?’ Shepherd asked.

  ‘Police in London are searching for Stanovich and Payan. When they find them, we should be able to get them talking and find Detective Vargas. Police here in Spain say abductions similar to this have happened before; most of the time it’s gangs involved in the sex trade. The good news is the girls who are rescued are almost always found alive; they’re not worth any money dead.’

  Shepherd nodded. ‘OK. Good work, Travis.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. In the meantime the lab teams here are working on identifying the fourth blood sample. I’ll call you the moment a result comes through.’

  ‘Got it.’

  Then he hung up.

  While Travis had been giving his report, Ethan had located Stanovich’s and Payan’s files via Interpol and he pulled them up onto the screen, replacing Vargas’ police file. Shepherd, Archer, Marquez and Josh saw two tough-looking men not dissimilar in type from the two gang members from LA but with different ethnicity and no tattoos on their faces.

  On the left, Stanovich looked tall and lean, bags under his eyes and a bent nose no doubt broken in the past but never reset. In the other photo, Payan’s eyebrows were criss-crossed with scar tissue like rough patchwork above dark expressionless eyes staring straight at the camera.

  Both looked just what they were.

  Menacing, dangerous thugs.

  At the end of table, Archer sat totally still, studying the two men who’d snatched Vargas, searing their image into his brain.

  They had no idea who they’d just pissed off.

  ‘Our suspects,’ Shepherd said, studying the mug-shots. ‘Give me the vitals, Ethan.’

  ‘Both were born in Bratislava and moved to the UK eight years ago. Stanovich is thirty two, Payan thirty three, and according to this they’re old acquaintances. Like Travis said, they’ve been arrested numerous times for various offences and served time. The most recent on each file is eighteen months for trafficking and running a prostitution network in south London.’

  ‘But they can still remain in the UK despite jail time?’ Marquez said, frowning.

  ‘Joys of membership of the EU,’ Archer said. ‘The government’s probably paying their rent.’

  ‘Do they have a history of going to Spain?’ Shepherd asked.

  ‘Not that I can see,’ Ethan said. ‘But it’s hard to track movement around Europe these days.’

  ‘Two known sex traffickers,’ Josh said. ‘I knew it. They were probably searching for targets to abduct; young attractive women who were alone or in pairs. Nerja’s a tourist spot, so it’s probably a good hunting ground for them. Vargas must have caught their eye.’

  ‘And without her badge and gun, they wouldn’t have any idea who she is and the connections she has,’ Marquez added, now on board with the idea.

  ‘This is progress, guys,’ Shepherd said, looking at the pair of suspects. ‘Now we’ve got two of our kidnappers.’

  ‘I’ll contact the Met,’ Ethan said, reaching for the phone and picking up the receiver. ‘Ask them to give us a rolling update as news comes in.’

  Shepherd nodded. ‘I want to know anything the moment they do.’

  As he spoke, there was a knock on the open door behind them; turning, the group saw Lieutenant Franklin standing there, head of the Counter-Terrorism Bureau. He was a grizzled moustached veteran who was as tough as nails and a legend within the Department. They all started to get to their feet but he waved them back down, looking at the screen across the room.

  ‘These are our suspects?’ he asked, indicating he knew exactly what was going on.

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Shepherd said. ‘Both are based in the UK.’

  Turning to him, Franklin motioned to the walkway outside with his head. ‘One moment, Shep.’

  Shepherd rose and walked outside, shutting the door behind him and joining his boss on the walkway, their conversation a murmur on the other side of the door as Shepherd explained the situation and the leads they’d just been given on the two sex traffickers to his boss. In Shepherd’s absence, Archer, Marquez and Josh continued to focus on Stanovich’s and Payan’s photographs and vital statistics.

  ‘Can you print copies of their files?’ Marquez asked Ethan, who nodded, his phone still clamped to his ear as he tapped away on his laptop.

  Across the table, Josh turned to Archer, noting his partner’s fixed stare as he studied the mug-shots.

  ‘Thoughts?’ he asked.

  ‘I hope they’ve each written a will.’

  As J
osh went to reply, the door opened again and Shepherd stepped back into the room alone, Franklin already gone. He looked over at Ethan.

  ‘Did you get through?’

  ‘Any second, sir.’

  ‘Do something else for me first.’

  ‘What do you need?’

  ‘Four seats to Heathrow on the first British Airways flight of the day out of JFK. Book them in Club Class on the Bureau’s budget. Lieutenant Franklin wants us over there on the ground to help find these men and get Vargas back.’

  ‘Club, sir?’

  ‘Yes, as I said. He wants us rested and ready to go as soon as we arrive.’

  Ethan nodded, ending his current call abruptly and pushing the operator line. Checking his watch and standing by the door, Shepherd turned to his three detectives.

  ‘It’s just past 3:15am. You three, go home and get a change of clothes, your passports and then get your asses over to JFK immediately. I’ll meet you there.’

  As the trio rose, he took a last look at the two sex traffickers on the screen who’d kidnapped Vargas.

  ‘We’re going to London.’

  SIX

  Just over an hour and a half later, Shepherd, Archer, Marquez and Josh were all together again inside JFK’s Terminal 4 as the clocks inside the building ticked past 4:50am. The Terminal was subdued and quiet, none of the long queues so typical later in the day, but the British Airways booths had already been opened, checking in passengers for the 6:20am flight to London.

  The four NYPD detectives had already collected their boarding passes, and were now moving through the security points that stood between them and the Gates on the other side. Watching Marquez and Josh walk through two rectangular metal detectors, Archer waited his turn in the queue.

  He’d changed into light blue jeans, a black t-shirt and a checked grey and white shirt over the top, the first things that had come to hand in his wardrobe. After Josh had made a flash pit-stop at his own place to grab a bag and his passport, he’d driven Archer back to his apartment in Queens and waited as he gathered his own gear. Archer hadn’t concentrated as he’d changed his clothes, working on autopilot, but as he’d pulled the shirt he was wearing from a hanger inside his closet, he’d seen Alice’s clothes lined up neatly beside his and caught the scent of her perfume. Quickly closing the wardrobe door, he’d thrown a spare set of clothes into a holdall, secured his pistol and after grabbing his passport, had walked out of the apartment and re-joined Josh in the car, the two of them heading straight for JFK.