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

by Marshall Huffman

  “Lots of things can be used. Not just metal. I mean, that’s preferred but stones and rocks could work as well,” he replied.

  “Belk likes metal. He doesn’t want to just hurt people. He wants to maim and kill them. For that he needs metal. He is pretty much cut off from the traditional sources so he has to get it someplace else.”

  “Scrap yards?” the captain said.

  “Exactly.”

  “We can have that checked out. I’ll get on that immediately while you go assess the damage to your house.”

  “I don’t care about that just now. I want Belk.”

  “Go. I can take care of having scrap yards checked. There can’t be more than half a dozen in the area.”

  I reluctantly agreed.

  **

  Standing in my front yard, I realized how lucky I had been. One half of my house was mostly missing. A small pile of burnt scrap iron was all that was left of my TR6. A new coat of paint wasn’t going to fix it that was for sure.

  My neighbor, Mrs. Gleason came out and stood beside me.

  “Sorry honey. I think you lost just about everything,” she said patting me on the shoulder.

  “Looks pretty bad.”

  “Well the main thing is that you are okay.”

  “Yep. Anyone else get hurt?”

  “Mrs. Livingston is pretty mad about the damage to her house but she will get over it. She didn’t lose everything like you did.”

  “Well it doesn’t matter really. It was just stuff. I can get more stuff,” I said.

  Pretty philosophical I thought. In reality I was really pissed. That was my stuff and most of it could never be replaced no matter how much I acted like it didn’t hurt. It didn’t matter I guess really because there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it at the moment.

  “Where are you going to stay?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t given it much thought really. A hotel I guess.”

  “No need for that dearie. I have two extra bedrooms. You are welcome to use one of them.”

  “That is very gracious of you but I think the best thing I can do until we get this guy put away is stay at a hotel and move around. He may not be done with me yet,” I told her.

  It really was a nice gesture but I could almost see her give a sigh of relief when I declined the offer. I can’t say I blame her. Belk was certifiable and who knew what he would do next.

  I took one last look at my house and what was once my pride and joy and drove off.

  **

  “Not much left,” the captain said when I got back to the station.

  “Not much. Maybe I can sell what is left of my car as a modern art piece. I’ve seen worse.”

  “Look I have some...upsetting news I guess is the best way of saying it,” McGregor said.

  “Great. Just lay it on me.”

  “The Department of Homeland Security is sending in a bigshot to take over. We have been relegated to an advisory role.”

  “What? Are you kidding me? Captain that is bullshit! Do they really think they can just waltz in and know what the hell is going on? That’s just nuts,” I spewed.

  “Angie, it’s out of my hands. Like you, I was told that was what was going to happen. I told them it would be a disaster but they know more than us according to them,” he said.

  This was just wrong on every level. Some yahoo just walking in and taking over without having the faintest idea of the situation. I was seriously pissed.

  “When does this happen?”

  “He will be here at 3:00 p.m. A meeting is scheduled for 4:00 p.m. with everyone involved,” the captain said.

  “Well that’s just great. Since I am no longer needed I guess I’ll just take care of my insurance problems until he gets here.”

  “Sorry Bartoni,” he said as he walked off.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  I was at my desk enjoying a Diet Coke when Marsha came over.

  “Hey Angie. Glad to see you up and about. Other than the black eyes you look pretty good.”

  “Liar.”

  “I was trying to be nice.”

  “I know. So what’s up?”

  “A guy showed up with a big dump truck at the Miller Scrap and Reclamation Center. The owner informed us when we sent our agents to the various yards. We have him coming in to question. I assume you want to be in on it.”

  “You bet. When is he due?”

  “Maybe five minutes or so depending on traffic.”

  “Great. Let me know when he gets here. Put him in room one and make him comfortable. We need his cooperation.”

  “You got it.”

  I finished talking to my car insurance agent who wanted to know if it was fixable. I told him to go take a look and make up his own mind.”

  A few minutes later Marsha informed me that the owner, James Miller, was in the interview room.

  I grabbed my Diet Coke and headed over to see him.

  “Mr. Miller, thank you for coming in,” I said, extending my hand.

  He took it and shook it. His hands were course. He was definitely a working man.

  “I didn’t have much of a choice. I was told this was voluntary, sort of.”

  “Sorry for that but we desperately need your help. You probably know about the bomber, Richard Belk. He has already killed several hundred people. We are certain that he is planning his biggest murder spree to date. We believe he is trying to take thousands this time.”

  “Whoa. Look, I don’t have anything to do with that kind of stuff. I just buy and sell scrap metal. I don’t ask where it came from or what it is going to be used for. Do I need a lawyer?”

  “No, no. It’s nothing like that.”

  “It doesn’t sound like nothing,” Miller said.

  “Look, you did nothing wrong. In fact you may have nothing to do with this. I would like to show you a couple of pictures and see if either of them was the person that bought the scrap iron.”

  “Yeah but if it was, I could be liable right?”

  “Mr. Miller this isn’t about assessing blame. It’s about getting these madmen before they kill again. You may be able to help,” I tried to assure him.

  Honestly, I guess he could be right if some sue happy nut decided to go after him as well. Such is our society today.

  “What do you need from me?”

  “Look at these pictures,” I said laying out the pictures of Belk and Anderson, “Was either of them the man who bought the scrap iron?”

  He studied them for several seconds and then tapped the picture of Anderson.

  “He is the one. I’m sure of it.”

  “What did he use to transport the scrap that he purchased?”

  “A big, older dump truck. He wasn’t much of a driver. He stalled it three or four times but he finally got it into position and we dumped in a load. He wanted smaller stuff.”

  “Did you get the address or anything that would help us locate them?”

  “Not really. I mean it was pretty straight forward. Cash for scrap. We filled the dumper and he paid. The total was nine hundred and forty dollars. That’s just a little over three thousand pounds of scrap.”

  “My God. A ton and a half,” I said, my heart sinking. The damage that could do! I know my hand was shaking as I tried to take a drink of Diet Coke.

  "Detective Bartoni, I don’t know if it would help but we have a security camera that records the license plates of every truck or vehicle that comes into the yard. Would that do you any good?” Miller asked.

  “Maybe. Thank you for your help. We will take you back to your scrap yard and we would like to borrow the security CD to see if it helps locate them.”

  “I really hope it helps,” he replied.

  **

  At ten minutes to three a man in a black suit that said FED walked up the stairs, looked around and headed to the captain’s office.

  It would appear the big cheese had arrived. A few minutes later they disappeared into the conference room. I could see him ta
lking to Marsha, Cindy, and Eric. They seemed to be doing a lot of bobble head stuff. Not talking, just shaking their heads from time to time.

  I saw Marsha point to me and I immediately looked down at my desk like I was working. A few seconds later the big cheese approached my desk.

  “You are Detective Bartoni.”

  It was more of a statement so I didn’t bother to answer. I wish I didn’t get like that but I can’t stand people who try to act superior. Like I was supposed to be in awe of him.

  “Is that correct?” he asked.

  “You seem to know that already. What can I do for you.”

  “They tell me you were the one responsible for putting Belk away. I would like all of your files on him and his partner.”

  “No problem. Do you mean from when he escaped or everything?” I asked.

  “Everything. Every scrap of information you have on him.”

  “I’ll take care of it. I’ll have it delivered to the conference room.”

  “Can’t you just give it to me now?”

  “Nope. It’s in storage. I have our current file but that’s all I have here.”

  “Alright. Have it delivered as soon as possible,” he said and walked off.

  Nice guy. Didn’t even introduce himself. No please or thank you. His mamma must be real proud of how he has turned out. I called over to records and made arrangements to have everything delivered. I could almost picture his face when he came in tomorrow and there wasn’t enough room to wedge himself into the conference room. It had taken me three years to get the bastard. I had boxes and boxes full of files. Good luck going through them sucker.

  Marsha came over a few minutes later.

  “You met Thompson I see.”

  “Not really. He didn’t bother to tell me his name. Just ordered me to turn over everything I had on Belk.”

  “He has a hell of a reputation for cutting careers short if he doesn’t like you.”

  “Well, in that case I guess it would be a good time for me to update my resume. Frankly, I think he is just another Fed jerk I’m going to have to deal with. No offence meant,” I said realizing that Marsha was a Fed as well.

  Geez, I am so insensitive at times. I just open my mouth and put my foot in it. Sometimes both feet, which is hard to do even for me.

  What was bothering me the most was that this guy was going to want to jump in and try to figure this thing out cold. I’ve seen it before. One thing I know unquestionably, you can’t go from one to ten without going through two, three and four. Jumping ahead is a recipe for catastrophe.

  He may be in charge but I was determined to go my own way no matter what he said. I knew Belk. I was inside his head better than anyone.

  I know, I know. That doesn’t say much for me but...well there you have it. I knew the bastard, pure and simple.

  **

  “I had no idea,” Belk said when Peter showed him the dump truck, “That is a hell of a lot of scrap.”

  “Yeah, I thought about that. I picked up a conveyer belt to make it easier to load.”

  “It’s still going to be a hell of a lot of work.”

  “I don’t see any other options do you?”

  “No I guess not. We need to get started, we only have three more days left,” Belk said.

  “I’ll get the conveyer belt set up and we can start immediately. The fertilizer is already in place. The napalm will go in last,” Pete said.

  “I agree. Call me when you are ready to start loading the trailer.”

  Twenty minutes later the conveyer was hooked up and they started the long process of loading the scrap from the dump truck to the trailer.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  “What the...” Thompson exclaimed when he looked inside the conference room.

  “The files on Belk,” I said, looking up from my desk.

  “I can’t read all of that before the Pan-Am games. I need this all on a disk,” he said, his mouth slightly hanging open.

  “Sorry. They haven’t gotten to it so far. We are several years behind on converting to a disk storage system. Budget cuts and all.”

  “This is worthless. Is this supposed to be a joke?” he said coming over and standing in front of my desk looking down at me.

  “No," I said. "It is exactly what you asked for. Every scrap of it. That’s what you ask for and that’s what you got,” I said not even bothering to look up at him.

  “I’ve heard about you Detective Bartoni. You are uncooperative and have a severely disrespectful attitude. I don’t appreciate that.”

  Ah hell. Bartoni, don’t do it. Just let it go. I can’t. I just can’t do it.

  “Well, Mr. Asshole agent who hasn’t even had the courtesy to introduce himself yet, I don’t give a crap what you think. You think reading the files is going to help you get Belk? If you do, your dumber than you look. You want him off the streets and put away, you just stay out of my way because I got him the first time and I’ll get him again. If you think you can do it without my help then everything that happens is on your head. It will be your career that takes a nosedive,” I said. I got up, shoved in my chair and walked to the break room.

  When I looked back everyone was just sort of shell shocked including Thompson. It was like the movie, ‘When Time Stood Still’. Nothing moved. Even the captain, who I now realized had been coming out of his office, was standing there.

  Way to go Bartoni. I seem to have a very touchy ‘pissed off trigger’. I really need to work on that.

  **

  My insurance agent came through with a rental car and expense money for a hotel room for the next few nights while we all figured out what to do next. I was glad I had one agent for both the car and house. It made things so much easier.

  The rental car reminded me of just how much I missed my TR. It was more like a big boat than a car. No way I would want to own one of these things.

  When I got in the next day I felt a lot better. I had a good night’s sleep and even ate a fairly healthy breakfast for a change.

  “Bartoni,” the captain said as soon as I came up the stairs.

  I entered his office fully expecting a butt chewing about my little pep talk with Thompson.

  “Agent Thompson is having a meeting at 9:00 a.m. and he has asked for you to be there to give a briefing about Belk and Anderson,” he said.

  “Right. And I believe in the tooth fairy.”

  “No, really. It seems that you reminded him that if this all goes south he will take the fall. He decided to make sure some of the blame could be shifted elsewhere.”

  “Namely me.”

  The captain just raised his eyebrows.

  Right on the button.

  “Look I want to run something by you that has been really eating at me.”

  “Besides the Feds?” McGregor asked.

  “Cute. No really. It concerns the pamphlet we found in the last house. It was about the Pan-Am games.”

  “So?”

  “That isn’t something Belk would overlook. I think he wanted us to find that as misdirection.”

  “No way. It was behind a dresser as I understand it.”

  “Yes, but he didn’t blow the place up like usual. I think he was trying to lead us to believing that the target is the Pan-Am games.”

  “Come on Bartoni. What else could he be after that was bigger than the games?”

  “I don’t know yet but I have a gut feeling.”

  “Well this time I think you are wrong. Everything points to the games. They are huge and he would become the most prolific murderer of all time which I assume is what he wants,” the captain replied.

  “It is, but that could come later. Captain, we pretty much shut them down with the different pass requirement every day and limiting how close large trucks could get. I just don’t see how he could pull it off.”

  “You’re over thinking this. He will have television coverage. What more could he want? A world wide audience for everyone to see how he beat us. Concentrat
e on the Pan-Am Games, that’s where it will happen.”

  I have seen the captain like this too many times to argue. Once his mind was made up he was like a bull in a china shop. He would just bull his way through.

  I’m not Spiderman but my senses were tingling. I was missing something. No way Belk would have ‘forgotten’ the pamphlet.

  And then there was this thing with Thompson. What was that all about? Looking to lay it off on me? I wasn’t too worried, he wasn’t the first and he probably wouldn’t be the last to try to CYA.

  I looked at my watch. It was 8:30 a.m. I needed to get cracking if I was going to have something to tell them. I’m sure Thompson would like to see me fall flat on my face.

  Not to worry, I could handle him.

  **

  “Detective Bartoni is our resident expert on Belk and Anderson. She is going to give you a briefing on what we are up against. Detective,” Thompson said.

  He gave me a smile like the Cheshire Cat.

  I spent the next forty-five minutes going over everything I could cram into a briefing without making them fall asleep. I even had a short PowerPoint presentation for them.

  When I was finished, I opened up the floor for questions and immediately got three or four. There were a couple of good ones, one that I had covered in the briefing and one that came from left field and had nothing to do with Belk or Anderson.

  “Very impressive Detective Bartoni,” Thompson said.

  I wasn’t sure, but he seemed almost sincere. I was waiting for it and wasn’t disappointed.

  “One thing you said that concerns me,” Thompson said, “Was that the Pan-Am Games may not be the target. I am curious as to how you came to that conclusion.”

  “Well for one thing, Belk and Anderson never makes mistakes. The pamphlet is a mistake and I just don’t see that happening. It was used to misdirect us. I think he has something else in mind.”

  “I see. And you don’t consider the Pan-Am Games important enough, considering the people all packed together and national television present?” Thompson said.

  “Oh it’s important. So important that he figures we have to believe that that is the target. Look, it is so obvious that he has to have something else in mind. That’s the way he does things. He plants ideas and then goes off in another direction,” I tried to explain.