NOTHING TO LOSE - Angie Bartoni Case File # 5 (ANGIE BARTONI CASE FILES)

by Marshall Huffman

  “Wait. No. If you do that he will kill me.”

  “Wow, you’re really sharp. Are you just now picking up on that? You really are a dumb one.”

  “Look. I don’t know what he has planned except to say it is big. Like his biggest thing ever. He won’t share it with us. Well, maybe the Pete guy, but not Justin and me,” he said.

  “That’s too bad. It seems you have nothing to trade to get yourself out of this jam Mr. Rice.”

  “Come on. Give me a break. I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”

  “You know where you were delivering the goods to don’t you? Give it to me,” I said, slamming my hand down on the desk so hard he jumped.

  “Okay. He is at an abandoned farm just off County Road 300N. I can show you on a map,” he said.

  “Alright, I’ll get the map but if your screwing with me it will be very bad news for you later,” I replied and went to get the map.

  The captain was standing there.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think he will point it out but Belk took off the minute he found out this dork was caught. It’s been on every news station nonstop,” I told him.

  “We still need to check it out. This time no one within five hundred yards of the place, understand Bartoni?”

  “Got it.”

  “That’s a direct order. Five hundred yards.”

  “Okay dad,” I said, retreating hastily.

  I found the right map after searching for twenty minutes and took it into Murray to point out the location. It was almost a waste of time. He thought it was this one, then that one, and finally, possibly this one. We ended up with three potential places. Finally I decided the only way to go about finding the right location was to take him along.

  Since it was in the county, we had to get the Sheriff’s office involved again and he brought along the bomb squad knowing full well Belk would undoubtedly have an unfriendly reception waiting for us.

  **

  “Come on Murray, is it this one or not?” I said.

  “I don’t think so. It had a ditch in front of where you turned in.”

  I closed my eyes. This was the fifth place we had been. The three potential places had not been right. I was quickly losing my sense of humor with this clown.

  “There,” he said, pointing to the other side of the road.

  What a dunder head. It wasn’t even on the right side of the road. We all pulled over and I got out and went to talk to Albertson, our bomb squad guru.

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  “I think we should all just go home and forget the whole damn thing. After the last place, this guy could have a thousand booby traps laid out. I’m still pissed about Bonny getting her poor little butt blown up,” he said referring to the robot.

  “Do you have an attachment to this one?” I asked, pointing at another robot.

  “Sheila? Damn right. I love her like she was my own.”

  “Albertson, you need to get a life,” I replied.

  “At least they are loyal,” he shouted back.

  I was beginning to worry about that guy. I climbed in the front seat of the Sheriff’s car.

  “Don’t be screwing with us. You’re sure this is the place?”

  “I’m pretty sure. I mean, it looks right.”

  “For your sake, I hope it is,” I said and got out to join Albertson as he was bending down talking to Sheila.

  I was surrounded. There were crazy people in front of me and crazier people behind me. Help me, please.

  Nevertheless, we went on. Albertson finally said goodbye to Sheila and sent her on her merry way. I watched at the prescribed five hundred yards with a pair of binoculars. The robot stopped every so often and to scan the surroundings. Eventually it made it to the stairs and I was pretty amazed at the way the damn thing managed to climb the steps. Once on the porch it opened the door and slowly disappeared inside.

  I looked over at the monitor that Albertson was using to control Sheila. Did I really just say Sheila? I meant robot. It was looking around and I watched as a separate monitor suddenly showed a jagged line.

  “Napalm,” Albertson whispered.

  “In the house now?”

  “Don’t know yet. Sheila just picked up a whiff of it. If it isn’t there now it was and not that long ago from the strength of the signal,” he assured me.

  “Anything else?”

  “C-4, Semtex, gasoline, Kerosene. I’m also getting faint readings of RDX and PETN. Why, I just don’t know. I can’t see why that would have been there,” Albertson replied.

  “How do you know what is in there?” I asked.

  “Sheila has EDS,” he said proudly, like it was his kid in there.

  “And EDS is what exactly?”

  “A sniffer. Explosive Detection System.”

  “Ah.”

  “Pretty cool huh?”

  “Uh, yeah, sure,” I said, backing off to look through the binoculars again.

  This guy ought to marry the damn thing.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  After two hours Albertson declared the place was safe to enter. Having seen what Belk was capable of I decided to wait a while just to be sure.

  I was still outside when Albertson came out and handed me a pamphlet.

  “I found this behind a table,” he said.

  I looked it over.

  SUMMER

  PAN-AM GAMES

  Inside was a schedule of the events due to take place over the ten day event. Everything from the opening ceremony to the closing of the games was listed. Coke and American Express appeared to be the big sponsors.

  The opening ceremony was just a little over a week away. This would be the perfect venue for Belk to spit in the world’s face. What better event? I carefully bagged the pamphlet.

  It was obvious to even me that napalm had been made in the bathtub. I sure would hate to have to clean it out. The rest of the house turned up nothing much. Other than the pamphlet we had little to show for our efforts.

  The only one happy seemed to be Albertson because nothing had happened to Sheila.

  Back at the station I filled the captain in on what we had learned so far. When I showed him the pamphlet, I thought he was going to croak right there.

  “The Pan-Am Games. We are talking about thousands of people. Bartoni we have to get this guy and fast.”

  I love it. Now ‘we’ have to get the guy. I’m pretty sure we means me in this case. Dan is out of action, Brad is down for the count and Potts is pretty much potted out. That just leaves me the way I figure it.

  “Captain. You know the situation. I need to have people to do leg work. Cindy, Marsha, Eric and the HLS guys have to be assigned to me or we need to bring in someone with lots of feet on the ground to take over.”

  “No, no. I would rather it be you running the show. I’ll take care of getting the others placed under your command. But Bartoni, we simply can’t let this crazy bastard blow up the Pan-Am Games.”

  “One thing we have to do and I mean right now is get a permit system in place for each truck, no matter what size, in place that can’t be tampered with. A new pass each day. Every truck inspected. Nothing goes in without proper documentation,” I said.

  “That will cause a hell of a backup,” McGregor said, rubbing his eyes.

  “So would a few hundred fire engines and EMTs picking up bodies. It’s either keep them out or pick up the pieces later. Your call captain.”

  “Okay. Point taken. No one in or out without a daily pass. Everything checked.”

  “Twice. At two different check points.”

  “Fine. You just lay it out and I’ll get the people.”

  “We need to start that today captain. Some vendors are already gearing up so we need to inspect every nook and cranny,” I said.

  “We need to hold a press conference and alert everyone to our plans,” McGregor said suddenly.

  What? Why? Giving out information was the last thing I wanted to
do.

  “Excuse me captain but that is not your best idea by a long shot.”

  “Bartoni. If we suddenly start throwing up barricades and check points the press will eat us alive. We just can’t do it with no warning at all.”

  “But that is exactly the point of doing it. Just do it with no publicity. I don’t want to give Belk the time to think of a different way to get past security.”

  He shook his head from side to side.

  “No. We have to tell them that we have new security measures in place. The vendors have a right to know what is expected of them.”

  “Boss, I don’t really care about the vendors right now. It’s the spectators that we need to focus on.”

  “Sorry Bartoni but I’m just not willing to go along with that. We will make them jump through hoops to get the necessary clearance but we have to let them know what is expected of them.”

  “This is wrong,” I said.

  “It may be but that is what I’m going to do.”

  “So how do they get these permits? Have you given any thought to that? What kind of permit? Can it be duplicated or forged? Captain, you can’t go about this half assed and not get a lot of people killed.”

  “Bartoni, we are doing this my way. I don’t want to argue with you over this but that is the way it is going to be. It’s on my head,” he said.

  Sure it is now but what about when it hits the fan?

  “Okay. I would like to be at the conference and have a few words to say myself,” I offered.

  “About?”

  “Just a quick message to Belk and Pete Anderson.”

  “About what?”

  “It’s personal.”

  He looked at me for several seconds then nodded.

  “Keep it short.”

  “I will. I promise.”

  **

  The captain had just finished explaining for the third time how the permitting system was going to work. Half of the reporters didn’t get it at all and the other half were only concerned about how it would affect them. In all, I thought it was a dumb idea. He was more than ready to turn the microphones over to me.

  “As you all know Richard Belk is on the loose along with his compatriot Peter Anderson. They are both responsible for hundreds of bombing deaths. Why bombs? Because like all terrorists they are cowards. They hide like little children and then kill innocent men, women, and children. Who would do such a thing? A fanatic? Maybe I could understand that but in this case it isn’t even that. They do it because they are chicken. Crazy chickens for sure, but nevertheless cowards. Belk is like all megalomaniacs. He gets others to do the dirty work while he stays far away. Well Belk, we have two of your minions and that leaves just Pete. So when will you consider him to be expendable?” I said and walked away.

  I could hear the shouting behind me but I wasn’t about to answer any questions. I wanted Pete Anderson to think about what I had just said.

  **

  A glass shattered into a million pieces as Belk ranted.

  “I’m going to kill her. I should have killed Bartoni when I first got out.”

  “Easy,” Pete said, “She was just trying to get under your skin.”

  “Under my skin? When I am through with her she will have no skin left. I’ll make sure it is all burned off.”

  “Later. We have other things to take care of. This new permitting process adds a new challenge we hadn’t anticipated,” Pete said.

  “I don’t care. Bartoni has got to go. Now.”

  “Richard we can’t afford to become distracted. She can wait,” Pete replied.

  Belk swept his arm across the table, scattering paper, empty food containers, and bottles everywhere.”

  “No. She has to die now. I want to see her in hell,” he screamed.

  “Okay. Easy. If it is that important to you we can do it in one day. I’ll disable her car at her house and then she will have to call someone or a taxi to pick her up. I can put enough C4 in the car to blow half the neighborhood up. I’ll fix the car, she will come home and give it a try and ‘BOOM’, no more Bartoni.

  “Just make sure you kill her,” Belk said clenching and unclenching his fists.

  **

  Pete put his light on around his head and turned on the single led light. It didn’t give off much but it would be enough. Getting inside the TR6 was easy and it only took a second to pull the hood latch. It made more noise than he would have liked. Once he pulled it he waited a good five minutes before going back to work. It took him another two minutes to realize the final release was on the passenger side. He walked back over to the driver's side and removed the distributor cap.

  He was surprised to find the points had been replaced with electronic ignition. He took the rotor cap off and put it in this pocket. He replaced the distributor cap, gently closed the hood and pressed it in place.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  I heard the phone ringing but just couldn’t make it all click in my mind. I hadn’t gotten home until almost 2:00a.m. last night and fell asleep with my clothes still on.

  I finally opened my eyes enough to sort of see around. My phone was chirping away on the dresser. I had never hated anything more than I did the phone at that moment. I finally got up and answered it.

  “Bartoni.”

  “You coming in today?”

  It was the captain.

  “Look, I got home at 2:00 a.m. okay?”

  “I have your people here, you want to talk to them or have me fill them in?”

  “Oh crap. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  I walked to the bathroom and kept my eyes closed while I brushed my teeth. I did not want to see what was in the mirror. Finally I had no choice. I opened them, gasped and closed them again. I looked like hell. I ran the brush through my hair which did absolutely nothing for it. I washed my face and dabbed some deodorant under my arms.

  God, I had slept in my bra. My boobs felt like I was having a mammogram after being squished all night. I dressed, grabbed my shield and gun and headed out.

  I jumped in the TR and the engine ground over. Now what the hell? I pulled the choke out and tried it again. I did this three more times before I decided it wasn’t going to start. I popped the hood and looked inside. Everything looked like it should. The distributor cap was in place, the coil and coil wire were in place. I could smell gas so it wasn’t that.

  I did not need this right now. I closed the hood and decided I would look at it when I got home. I called central and had the nearest cop car come pick me up.

  When I got to the station, twenty very pissed off people were waiting for me. At this point I really didn’t care much.

  “I need a Diet Coke and coconut donuts,” I said but no one moved so I went off and got them.

  When I got back I had the same feeling Custer must have had at Little Big Horn. No more friendlies to help me.

  “Here is the deal,” I said at last, “We know Pete Anderson and Richard Belk are planning a spectacular explosion. Right now it looks like it could take place at the Pan Am Games. We found a pamphlet at one of his houses and that does not bode well. Captain McGregor has initiated a procedure that makes each vendor come pick up a pass in person with proper identification before it is issued. No one gets a permit without being vetted. That goes for every vendor, big or small. Even the Porta-potty guys need a permit to get in. They will be checked using face recognition software. To get a permit you have to agree to be entered into the system. No last minute ‘he was sick’ will be allowed. Your job is to make sure each and every vendor is who they say they are. You need to start doing background checks, doing interviews and in general, get all the ducks in a row. Is everyone clear on that?”

  Three hands shot up immediately.

  “Yes,” I said pointing to a grumpy looking woman.

  “Are you telling me I am just going to issue permits to vendors. That is all my job pertains too?”

  “Oh heavens no. You’re real job is to keep several th
ousand people from getting killed. If you don’t want to do that then take a hike. I don’t have time for attitude.”

  The other two hands dropped immediately.

  “Okay then. Our resident techno genius will show you how this is all going to work. This is who we go to when we don’t know who else to ask.”

  **

  One thing about being a cop is that you get to see every type of human. The good, the bad, and the ugly all show up eventually. Today we saw them all.

  Some of the owners of the business threatened to sue us if we didn’t give them a permit. Some ‘knew people in high places’, some were just plain nasty. A few tried the charm school approach but in the end, they all had to go through the same process. One of the things I did notice right off was that smaller vendors took it in stride and just did what was asked of them. It was usually the big outfits that pissed and moaned the loudest. They were used to getting their way.

  **

  Around one o’clock the captain came and found me and asked me to come to his office.

  “How is it going?”

  “So-so.”

  “I just wanted you to know. The lab called. The pamphlet has both Anderson’s and Belk’s prints on it.”

  “Okay...?”

  “They were definitely there.”

  “Captain, we already knew that. We found napalm residue and all kinds of other explosive materials.”

  “It means we are going to have to call in more than just the local police, state police and Sheriff for this.”

  “Whoa. You surely don’t mean the National Guard. Those guys have enough on their plates without asking them to do civilian duty as well.”

  “I don’t see that we have any choice in this. The Governor has already authorized their use.”

  “Give those guys a break. Isn’t it enough to ask them to put their lives on the line for the country’s defense? Look, you implemented the permit change every day. We have over two hundred CCTVs watching almost every inch of the place. No trucks will be allowed in to the area forty-eight hours before the event. All other cars, vans, and trucks will be parked out away from where the events are taking place and people will be shuttled in.”