by R. A. Lamb
Marty said, “What’s that under the shelf? Looks like a piece of tape.”
The CSI reached in, pulled the tape loose and held it out. Sticking to it was a flash drive. Marty carefully put it in an evidence bag.
“You okay?” I felt Marty’s hand on my shoulder.
“Better,” I said sitting up.
“Good,” Marty turned to the CSI, “You finish checking the locker for prints. We’ll take this back to the lab.”
The CSI continued and we left.
I felt much better by the time we arrived at the station. We went to the lab. It was well lighted and a lot more modern than the rest of the building. I didn’t recognize much of the equipment except the centrifuge, computers of course and a scanner. There were several technical analysts working in teams studying the vests and the backpack. One came over to Marty.
“Here’s the status of what we have so far. There is nothing unique about the vests themselves or the backpack. They are a pretty common design. Could have ordered them off the internet or even bought them at a sporting goods store.”
Marty looked disappointed, “I hope you found something we can use.”
“There is something that may help,” and the analyst handed Marty a report. “The bomb on the other hand was interesting.”
“How so,” Marty opened the folder?
“Most of the components you see here you could buy at an electronics store but not this.”
“What is it?”
“Semtex, and not only that, its military grade.”
“That may be our first break. Run a check to see if any military base is missing some and let me know immediately.”
I was curious, “Is there anything else you can look for?”
“Of course, we are now examining all the bomb components for trace. If we get lucky maybe we’ll find a hair or something we can run DNA.”
Agent Holland abruptly took the report out of Marty’s hand and flipped through it. Marty remained calm but I thought he was irritated, I would’ve been. Marty handed the technician the two envelopes they collected. “I’m also interested in what’s on the flash drive, He said. Call me when you have something.”
“Oh yeah,” Marty looked at Agent Holland, “Make a copy for the FBI. Let’s keep them in the loop.”
My stomach started growling. It was dinner time and I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. Marty must have heard it. “Let’s grab a bite. I want to hear your story again anyway. You can tell me while we eat. Holland, you want to join us?”
The three of us walked to a pizzeria down the street and ordered a large pepperoni and sausage. I would rather have Texas Bar-B-Q but this was DC not Houston, Texas. Agent Holland turned toward me’ “Let’s hear your story again, Todd.”
The pizza arrived. Between bites I described the incident. The rain, taking the tunnels, the blast, being knocked down and hitting my head, being dragged across the floor, seeing the tiles, a sneaker, something white above it, tucking the folder under my arm like a football, the three men, and the vests. “That’s about it.”
Holland and Marty looked at each other but didn’t say anything. Agent Holland wrote in his notebook. I wondered what they weren’t telling me. Marty changed the subject, “Did you see the game last weekend? How about those Redskins?” Agent Holland loosened his tie as they discussed the last quarter. Marty reached for his cell phone. “Simmons.” He listened then put it away. “We may have caught a break. Captain says we got a hit on the facial recognition software. We need to head back.”
At the station the captain found us. “You’ll want to see this.” He led us to his office. “We got three hits. Two are in the DC area, one in Maryland. Todd, anyone look familiar?”
They all looked similar. “It could be any one of them.” My cell vibrated. It was the Congressman’s office. “Hello Kathy, are you checking up on me? Excuse me Congressman Bradford, I thought--. Yes Sir, I’m feeling a lot better thanks. Yes Sir, I remember tucking it under my arm after the blast. It must be--. Did they search the bookstore? I can’t imagine--. Yes Sir, I will. Thank you.”
I looked at Agent Holland and Marty, “The Beta Project Update report is missing, that’s the envelope I was taking to Congressman Bradford.”
A CSI walked over to us and handed Marty a file. “We got a partial print from the flash drive; we’re running it through AFIS, as yet no hits. The drive contains music files, some of it sounds pretty weird, there is a list of names and phone numbers, some files on how to make explosives and some encrypted files we haven’t broken yet. We’re running DNA samples from the sock. It’s a long shot.”
“Any feedback on the Semtex?”
“The only report was from a military base in upper New York State. A case of Semtex is unaccounted for. We’re checking it out.”
Marty said, “Keep me up to date. That will be all. Thanks.”
Agent Holland looked at his watch. “I’d like to get a copy of that flash drive to my headquarters. We have some experts who might help.”
“Okay, consider it done,” Marty nodded.
I detected something in Marty’s tone. I sensed he and Agent Holland weren’t on the same playing field yet.
Marty turned to me, “Todd, you’ve been through a lot today. I’ll have a car take you home. Get some rest, I may need you to look at a lineup tomorrow.”
An officer drove me to the apartment. It was dark and I could see a new moon. The clouds were clearing. I guessed the front moved through.
Damon was watching TV and wanted to know if I heard about the explosion in the tunnels today. “It’s all over the news,” Damon said. “They reported there were three terrorists and one got away but the Feds have a witness who may be able to identify him.”
I didn’t say much except I was there and was taken to the hospital to be checked out.
“Damn, y’all have all the luck, Damon said imitating a Texas twang. “I was stuck in Senator Rawlings office all day drafting a brief on poverty in Haiti.”
“Well did you come across any habas in Haiti, Bas-tin boy,” I returned?
We both laughed. Damon threw a newspaper at me. It broke the tension I was storing. I needed that.
I was beat and turned in. Congressman Bradford had told me to take the day off so I didn’t set an alarm. The phone woke me about 9 AM. Damon was long gone. I noticed Damon’s open brief case was on the dinette table. He’ll miss that today, I thought and answered the phone. It was Marty.
“Have you seen the morning papers?”
“No your phone call woke me.”
“The Post says a Congressional intern witnessed the explosion in the tunnels and may have seen the terrorists.”
“Holy crap, Marty, how did they know?”
“That doesn’t matter now. Pack a few things and stay inside until an officer comes for you. I’ve already talked to Congressman Bradford’s office. We’re putting you in protective custody.”
My first reaction was shock, then disbelief. There was this funny feeling in the pit of my stomach. A few minutes later I was dressed and threw some things together. I chocked down some breakfast. As I rinsed the dishes in the sink there was a knock at the door.
I glanced out the window but didn’t see a patrol car. “Who is it?”
“Package, I need ya ta sign.”
I looked out the peep hole and saw a guy in a delivery man’s uniform. I put my hand on the doorknob. Probably a care package from Texas. Mom knows I miss her baking.
The delivery man raised his cap and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. I sucked in a breath and my chest muscles tightened when I saw his dark curly hair and close cropped beard.
“Just leave it by the door.” I ran to the window. There was still no patrol car.
Zap. Zap. Zap. I could see light through three splintery holes in the door. The man outside kicked it. The frame creaked. I opened the window and crawled out onto the fire escape. Two stories down, three stories up. I headed down.
My h
eart was pounding as I hit the sidewalk running. I didn’t know where, just away.
Bits of concrete hit my leg. I glanced back and saw the fresh pock marks in the sidewalk. Another bullet hit the corner of the apartment spraying brick dust. I turned the corner and kept running.
Chapter 4
Panting and sweaty, I ducked into a coffee shop several blocks from my apartment. I took a seat at a table where I could see the street. A waitress took my order for a latte and I nursed it while I watched for anything out of the ordinary. Everything looked normal, at least for the moment I was okay. I reached for my cell phone. The battery was running low. I had Marty’s card in his pocket. He answered on the second ring.
“This is Todd, I need help,” and briefly explained what happened.
Thirty minutes later an unmarked black SUV pulled up in front of the coffee shop. A blue one stopped across the street. Agent Holland got out of the black car and left the rear door open. Marty was in the driver’s seat.
I climbed in the back seat with Agent Holland getting in behind me. Marty stepped on the gas. The blue SUV made a U-turn.
Agent Holland said, “We’re taking you to a safe house. This is a Federal case now. I’ll send an Agent to your place to get your stuff. A group is on the way now to check it out.
“Agent Holland how did …”
“Better start calling me Hank. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together. And to answer your question there was a leak to the media. You can thank them for this.”
Marty drove a zigzag route for over an hour. Sometimes the blue SUV was behind, sometimes it would pull ahead, park then catch up to us again. Marty said over his shoulder, “It’s not far now. We just want to make sure we’re not followed.”
Marty pulled into a parking garage under a high rise in Tyson’s Corner. “This looks pretty fancy,” I said.
Hank Holland got out and looked around. He motioned me out. “Don’t worry about it. The government is picking up the bill.”
Marty turned off the engine and joined us as we made our way to the elevator. Hank hit six on the control panel. As the door closed Marty said, “I’ve been temporarily assigned to the FBI task force on this case.”
“Task force but I thought this was--.”
Hank interrupted, “We’ve been working with Homeland Security for over six months since we monitored chatter on the net about a series of planned disruptions. You just got caught up in it. Simmons has been assigned to stick to you.”
“You mean a bodyguard?”
“Let’s just say he’ll be standing outside the door when you shower.”
The elevator door opened and they walked down the sixth floor hallway. Hank knocked on 614 as I glanced around. The building was fresh and new. I saw security cameras mounted near the ceiling and the emergency stairwell down the hall.
The door opened. “This is Darvin Hicks”, Hank Holland said, “He’s Homeland Security. Darvin, this is Simmons from metro and our witness Todd Boling. They’ll be bunking here awhile.”
The apartment was painted a light green and nicely furnished with a leather sofa and two big overstuffed chairs in front of a large screen TV. There were several sports magazines and today’s Washington Post on a large glass coffee table. On the outside wall was a floor to ceiling window with the drapes drawn. To the left was a small study with book shelves along one wall and a good looking wooden desk and chair in the center. Next to it was a bright kitchen with granite counter tops. The kind mom talked about. On the other side of the living room were two doorways which I assumed led to the bedrooms.
“Welcome aboard Todd.” Mr. Hicks said. We shook hands then he went into the study and stood by the two computer monitors on the desk. I followed.
Darvin Hicks was a thin man in his late forties, an African American with a receding hair line and a small moustache. He gave a first impression that he knew what he was doing. I liked that.
“There are cold cuts and drinks in the refrigerator. Help yourself. We’ll order in dinner later,” he said staring at the monitors. “And try to relax Todd,” he turned and looked me in the eyes. ”You’re safe here.”
“This is a pretty impressive setup, Mr. Hicks.”
“Make it Darvin. Yeah, this monitor is linked into the security camera system throughout the building. By using this joy stick we can pan anywhere we want including the garage. The other one is hooked to an encrypted 4G with added scramblers on reception ports. Very secure stuff.”
The phone rang. Hank picked it up. “Hello.” He listened. “What’s his condition?” Hank lowered his voice, “He’s standing right here. I’ll let him know.” Hank turned. He looked serious. “Todd, your roommate…”
“Damon?”
“He was shot outside your apartment. His key was still in the door. They think the terrorists were tossing your place when he came home and surprised them.”
“Will he be okay?”
“He’s dead, Todd. I’m sorry.”
“Dead?”
“It was too late when the paramedics got there. Nothing they could do.”
I stood frozen. I felt the muscles in my chest tighten. It took an effort just to breath. I never had a friend die. Marty came over and put his hand on my shoulder.
I stared at Hank. He was silent. I saw Hank’s jaw tighten. I guessed he didn’t know what else to say. We broke eye contact. Hank turned and said something I didn’t hear to Darvin Hicks.
I couldn’t believe it. Damon’s dead. Why and what were they looking for?
I yelled, “Why?”
It got everyone’s attention. I sank onto the leather sofa and stared blankly into space. Hank turned back to Darvin. Marty didn’t say anything but sat down beside me. The room was deadly quiet. To break the tension Marty reached for the remote and turned on the TV. It was a soccer game.
A few minutes later there was a knock at the door. Darvin checked the security camera and motioned to Hank. Congressman Bradford and three men came in.
“I was just informed about your roommate, Todd. I’m sorry. Senator Rawlings’ staff is trying to locate his parents. I’ll contact them tomorrow.”
The Congressman hesitated, “Todd, I know this is bad timing but I need to hear exactly what happened yesterday and don’t leave out any details. Are you up to it?”
“I’ll try, Sir. I was bringing an envelope to you at the Capitol. Something to do with a Beta Project”
“Right, I was going to brief the Joint Chiefs and the Congressional Security Committee on suspected terrorist activity.”
“I walked down the tunnel until I reached the Capitol gate. I put on my badge and waited in line for security to let me pass. There was an explosion. I fell backward and hit my head. I remember getting a good grip on the envelope. Someone grabbed me under my arms and dragged me across the floor. I saw the floor tiles just a few inches from me. I saw a sneaker and something white above it, maybe an ankle. Then I guess I hallucinated. The next thing--.”
“The Congressman put his hand on his chin and stared at me, “What do you mean you hallucinated?”
“Well Sir, I thought I saw something blue wrapped around that ankle.”
“What was it?”
I hesitated, “Blue barbed wire. I know it doesn’t make sense but--.”
Hank interrupted, “Could it have been a tattoo?”
“I guess so; I can’t get it out of my mind.”
Congressman Bradford nodded, “That’s a big help, Todd, anything else?”
“No Sir. That’s all I remember.”
“Okay.” Congressman Bradford turned to Holland, “Check into the tattoo angle and keep me informed. I must get back. If you do think of anything, Todd, call my office.”
“Yes Sir, I will right away.”
One of Congressman Bradford’s men put his hand on the door knob and glanced at Darvin Hicks. Darvin studied the monitors and nodded. The man opened the door.
The Congressman turned to leave then said, “Todd, you’
ve been through a lot but you’re in good hands.” His other men followed the Congressman and closed the door behind them.
Hank turned, “Simmons, do you think we can get Hendricks over here and get a sketch of that tattoo?”
“Better yet we have a file on gang tattoos. Darvin could link in and Todd could try to ID it here.”
Marty’s cell rang; he listened, “Right away.”
Marty looked at Hank, “The tat ID will have to wait. They want Todd back at the station for a lineup. We have a suspect.”
Hank took a small Bluetooth headset from his pocket and put it over his ear. “Darvin, can you hear me?”
Darvin made a couple of keystrokes and spoke into a microphone on his monitor, “Loud and clear.”
“Check the hallways and garage. I want to know we have a clear path,” Hank walked toward the door.”
Darvin raised a thumb. We headed down.
It took about 30 minutes from Tyson’s Corner to DC. I could see the Washington Monument shrouded in dark clouds as we pulled into the station’s parking lot. Hank and Marty took me directly down a hallway to a small room with a one way glass partition which looked into an interrogation room.
Slouched in a metal chair at a table was a white man in a blue tee shirt and faded chinos, about my age, maybe a little older. The tee shirt had Club T&A printed on it in yellow letters. He had a beard and dark curly hair. His eyes were closed as he drummed his fingers on the table.
Hank and a patrolman entered. “You’re a real bad boy Mohan.” Hank sat down opposite the prisoner and opened a folder, “Let’s see, Mohan Suk Alkobar. I’ll call you Suky.”
The suspect glared at Hank. You could sense the hatred in his eyes.
“You have a pretty impressive rap sheet, counterfeiting, drug possession and assault with a deadly weapon. And your passport, well, you’re a world traveler, Suky”
“Whatever you say, piglet.”
“You’re in deep this time. Setting off explosives in a government facility is a federal crime. It could be life without parole in a maximum security facility.”
