There were no calls and no traffic in the lot, just the sound of Jackson flipping and tapping the device on the desk. After twenty minutes of exhaustive internal debate, his cop side won. He took a deep breath and stuck the drive into the USB slot on his Dell.
An array of zipped folders came up. They were labeled with number and letter codes. Some had video. Others had only audio. And more still were typewritten documents.
As he opened the first file on the left, his eyes almost bugged out of his head. He yanked the phone out of the cradle.
7
Brunell answered on the first ring.
“You looked at the package,” Brunell said.
“Unfortunately,” sighed Jackson.
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Don’t leave.” He hung up.
Jackson opened file after file and his anxiety grew by the second. If half of this stuff was actionable, the entire city was about to go up in smoke. It could go up the food chain. Way up.
His investigative instincts came flooding back. He realized how devastating all of this intel was. There were missing pieces, but it was enough to set off a ten-alarm fire in his head.
“Where did Brunell get this?” he muttered out loud.
Jackson was used to looking at standard data from the Unit. This was nothing like that. It looked like it came straight from Homeland Security or ICE. It could even be NSA or CIA stuff. Some of the documents were in English. Others were in Spanish or Arabic.
They scared the living hell out of him. Just being in possession of the drive could mean a long prison sentence—or worse.
Someone could ‘disappear’ very easily. And here in the desert, there were many remote places a person could wind up ‘disappearing’ to.
He looked up just as Brunell was pulling into the lot, but something else caught his eye. He noticed the turd brown Ford Taurus pull up across the street - the same car that had been there a few days ago. After three years on the lot, he knew cars. That was definitely the same car.
Brunell got out of his department rig and opened the front door. Jackson jumped up and put his finger to his lips. He pulled the thumb drive out of the computer and motioned Brunell to the back of the office. Jackson got out a pad of paper and scrawled quickly:
‘You were followed. Taurus across street.’
Brunell took the pen and wrote: ‘You sure?’
Jackson nodded. He put up his hand up and locked the front door. He flipped the sign to closed and put the phone on voicemail. He motioned to the back door, and they both walked out back into the parking area.
He got up in Brunell's face and spoke in a whisper.
“Those dudes came in here a couple days ago. They looked around for a minute and then took off. They pulled up again, right behind you. Maybe I’m being paranoid, but I don’t think so.”
Brunell spoke quietly. “It might be nothing, but right now, nothing would surprise me. That drive has some serious crap on it. You have the only copy.”
Jackson blinked wide-eyed and stopped. The only sound was the distant traffic out on the street.
“You mean you don’t have any other copies of this?” Jackson blurted out.
“No, I couldn’t risk it. I told you, The Unit is full of eyeballs. Nothing is safe in there,” Adam said.
Jackson stuck his face into Brunell’s so close they were almost touching.
“Shit, Adam! You laid all this on me, and I’ve been walking around with the only copy in my pocket? I had my son with me! I was at my ex’s house! I was at La Hacienda! These bastards may know I have it, and they’ve been watching!” Jackson could barely control his rage. “You’re going to tell me everything, and you're going to do it now. We’re getting out of here, and you are coming clean. Then, If I don’t have a heart attack, I’m going to beat the living shit out of you! Now get in the car!”
They both got in the BMW, and Jackson pulled up to the wooden fence in back and hurriedly moved it aside. He got back in and tore out of the slim rear driveway. He flew through the apartment parking lot and onto the residential side street as fast as he could.
Neither one said a word for nearly thirty minutes. Jackson was peeling up the freeway, looking in the mirror the whole way. He was playing a million scenarios in his head and was wondering how much of the last twenty-four hours the brown Taurus had been shadowing him for. He cursed every time he approached one of the speed cameras that dotted the road. They could track him without even following his cell. There were cameras everywhere. Anything digital could be hacked by someone with enough money or tech-smarts.
He sped out of town. He wanted to get as far away as possible before they stopped. He flew past Fort McDowell Casino and headed out into the Sonoran Desert before finally pulling off on a secluded desert road close to Saguaro Lake. He got out and slammed the car door.
Brunell unbuckled and slowly got out.
“Jackson, I’m sorry to have done this, but do you see what I have been telling you?”
“Yes, of course I see it, you idiot! A freaking moron could see it! What I want to know is, where you got it and why you dragged me into all of this?!”
“Like I said, I had nowhere else to go. I am at the end of my rope on this thing. It wasn’t fair to you or your family, but this could be so big that no one’s family is safe. I’m sorry, man. I really had no choice,” Adam pleaded.
“I could literally beat your brains out at this very moment, Brunell. I had no intention of dealing with any of this ever again. The government is a freaking cesspool. My family and friends’ lives have been put at risk over something that I have no clue about or control over. I have no idea what else you might have and now, I have some shady assholes tailing me around! What can a PC-neutered intel cop and a half-drunk car guy possibly do about anything anyway? We have no power! Even if this thing might be what you say it is, it may not touch anyone I care about. And I can promise you, I don’t give two shits about you, the department, or anyone’s precious pension or job security!”
He finally stopped. His heart was pounding almost as hard as his head. His breath felt ragged. He was out of control.
They stood in silence for a couple of minutes, with Brunell blinking and staring at him.
Finally, Jackson spoke quietly, “Give me everything you have right now, or start walking.”
Brunell coughed.“I’m sorry, I’m not at liberty—”
“There’s no time for this any more, Adam. Tell me, or I’m leaving you out here for the coyotes and javelina. You can figure out how to get back.”
“Ok. Ok. Let me think a second…” Adam begged.
“ONE! Second's up. I'm out of here!” Jackson flung the driver's door open.
“Wait. OK… here’s what happened. When I got the mule in the box, he was terrified. He passed me a note under the table with an address, a locker number and a combination on it. It was a locker at a Metro commuter station. The drive was in there in an envelope,” Adam said.
Jackson listened intently, his breath slowing down.
“There was a note in there that said he had swiped it off one of his handlers back in Mexico. It was his only bargaining chip. His wife and family are up here. She’s an anglo, and his kids are small school kids over in North Phoenix. No names. No address. He was obviously afraid the note might fall into the wrong hands and that his wife and kids would be taken out,” Adam sputtered out.
Jackson eyeballed him suspiciously. Brunell paced nervously back and forth.
“He must have owed someone, so it appears he is still in the game, family or no. But he is scared shitless for them. It appears that there is an Islamic and cartel joint venture. They want to take out a large event. There may be some locals or others in positions of power involved as well. Possibly with the cops, but it could go higher. There is also some chatter about something else, but I’m not sure what.”
Jackson shook his head slowly.
“I don’t know what the big event is, who the locals are, or what th
e something else is,” Adam said.
“Oh, God,” Jackson groaned. He felt like someone had just punched him full on in the gut.
“Yeah, so now you see what I am saying. I have been living with this for a week. I can’t bring in the Feds. I don’t know what their level of involvement is. I can’t tell the local cops for the same reason. I don’t even know what the major event is. All I know is, that on a scale of one to ten, this might be an eleven.”
“Shit, shit, shit,” Jackson said as he paced around, chewing on his knuckles and kicking gravel. “Let me process this. I gotta think.”
Jackson was so far out of the loop nowadays that he was unsure where to even start. The fact that his brain was still a throbbing fuzz ball from the night before didn’t make things any easier.
“Who else have you told?” Jackson asked.
“No one.”
“Not a soul in the office? Not your wife or partner?”
“No one,” Adam repeated.
“Then how did those goons that are following us know anything?”
“I have no idea. Unless the mule is talking in jail,” Adam said.
“Of course he is, Brunell! How stupid can you be?” Jackson shouted in his face. “They probably have his mama or sister in Mexico that they’re raping and torturing and relaying the message to him in the can.”
“That’s possible, I suppose. Then why haven't they gone after the wife and kids?”
“How do you know they haven't? You idiot! It’s more than possible. You have killer cartels teamed up with psycho-religious nuts that would cut off their own sisters’ heads just to please Allah. Do you think they give one shit about some mule and his family?!” Jackson shouted.
“Could be, but I thought he would hold out until he was almost dead before he turned the wife and kids over,” Brunell opined.
“I gotta think. Get back in. We're going back,” Jackson stated.
They got in the car and drove silently back to the lot. Jackson’s brain was on overdrive. He felt like someone had injected him with a syringe of pure adrenaline. He had no idea how they even got back, but he did notice that the goons in the Taurus were gone.
He pulled around back, and that was when everything hit the fan.
8
Dumitru had been fading in and out of consciousness throughout the night. Mrs. Drazov stayed with him, waking him occasionally to drink water.
“My sister will be here soon. You must stay hydrated, Dumitru.”
She had used Dumitru's phone to call her sister. She was far too poor to afford such a luxury. Her sister was in another town helping someone and couldn't get there until six o’clock, on the bus.
Dumitru could only groan. He had vomited so many times that his stomach felt like it was inside out. He could barely choke down any water. Every time he took it in, he would regurgitate it back up. Dehydration was definitely becoming a real problem.
There was only one hospital available to the poor in Moldova. The general population relied upon clinics staffed by various UN and other religious charitable organizations, and their hours were very limited. Unless you were one of the government elites or a handful or semi-wealthy landowners, you were usually left with folk remedies or other means. You had to make an appointment and wait weeks to get into a real hospital.
It felt like time was standing still, every second more painful than the next. He was going through hell.
Finally, at ten minutes to six, there was a soft knock on his door. Mrs. Drazov got up and let her sister in. Valeria came in with her bag and sat down next to the couch by Dumitru's face.
“Hi, Dumitru. I understand you are sick. Can you hear me?” she asked.
He nodded softly, mouth hanging open.
“OK, good. Can you see me?”
He wrestled his eyes open slightly. The soft light from the hall pierced into his brain. It felt like someone was sticking burning knives into his eyes.
He winced and nodded softly.
“Good. I am going to touch you a little. I will be gentle.” Valeria moved her hand towards him.
She carefully lifted his shirt and saw large, red blotches all over his abdomen and chest.
She set his shirt down and looked over to Mrs. Drazov, shaking her head.
Valeria pulled her out of earshot. “This is very sick man. He needs a doctor. I have salve for his skin, but not much else I can do for him.”
Mrs. Drazov shook her head and said, “I don't know what I will do without Dumitru. He is such a good man. He helps me so much.”
“I know a doctor. He is very good. He works at one of clinics. I bring him patients I cannot help. Only one thing….” Valeria hesitated.
“What?
“He is Muslim.”
“Will he come here and see Dumitru?” Mrs. Drazov asked desperately.
“I can ask. Maybe I can convince him. Do you have any money?”
“No. I have no money. And I do not care what religion he is as long as he can help my Dumitru,” Mrs. Drazov stated.
“Let's ask him. Maybe he has hidden some money,” Valeria said.
Most people in Moldova hoarded cash, especially US dollars. After everything the country had been though over the centuries, no one trusted the banks or the government. They knew it could all change overnight and they would end up penniless, so they had creative hiding places where they would squirrel away cash.
They walked back over to him.
“Dumitru, you are very sick. I want to get you a doctor immediately. Do you have any money?” Valeria asked.
He nodded softly.
“Point to where it is,” she said.
He slowly lifted his hand and pointed to his jacket on the chair.
Valeria walked over and pulled out the envelope. She opened it and saw the US dollars and smiled.
“I'll be right back.”
“Hurry!” Mrs. Drazov shouted as Valeria ran down the stairs.
9
Valeria re-appeared about an hour later with her doctor in tow. She rapped softly on the door, and Mrs. Drazov came over and let them in.
“Come in, come in!” She motioned with her hands for them to enter.
He was wearing a white smock, the traditional Muslim turban and had a stethoscope around his neck. He looked to be about forty. His beard was neatly trimmed and his demeanor calm and gentle.
“This is Dr. Al-Hazi.”
He put out his hand for Mrs. Drazov and then, they walked over to Dumitru.
He kneeled down slowly and got up next to his face. He spoke softly, “Dumitru, I see we are not feeling well today. I am here to help you.”
Dumitru blinked his eyes. Every movement shot unspeakable pain through his head.
“Let's take a look, OK?” the doctor said gently.
He carefully pulled back the ratty blanket and lifted his shirt.
His eyes got large as he saw that his entire torso was covered in one huge throbbing rash. It looked like his skin was literally about to fall off. He very gently put the stethoscope up to his chest, as Dumitru shuddered and winced in pain from the touch.
He listened for a few moments. He pulled it back and took hold of his head on each side.
“Please. Open your mouth as far as you can.”
He opened it, but barely got it halfway. He was in great pain. The doctor had a penlight and looked around inside his mouth and down his throat.
He clicked it off and shook his head.
“Dumitru, you are a very sick man. Have you been around any chemicals lately? Anything that may have gotten into your skin?”
He slowly shook his head no.
“Have you eaten anything that may have had chemicals or poison in it?”
He shook his head again.
The doctor thought for a moment.
“I have seen this kind of thing before. It is unusual. It was in Pakistan when I was in medical school. There were several workers from a local nuclear plant who became very ill from a leak. They brought
them to the university because the regular hospital didn't know what to do with them.”
“Doctor, are you saying that Dumitru might have nuclear poisoning? How could this happen?” Valeria asked.
“Dumitru, have you been around any medical supplies that may contain radiation? Any X-ray machinery or power sources?” the doctor asked him.
He shook his head slowly.
“If this is what I think it is, we need to act very quickly. I don't know where or how he got exposed, but this man appears to be suffering from radiation poisoning. If that is the case, we all may be exposed as well. Let me notify my clinic and prepare a room for him. We all need to be tested and evaluated,” the doctor stated.
The two women shook their heads in disbelief.
“Help me get him up. We do not have time for an ambulance,” the doctor ordered.
They all helped him up and shuffled him to the door. Step by step, they got him down the three flights of stairs. Dumitru was groaning with every movement.
They got him down to the street and to the doctor’s car. He opened the back door and they gently set him in.
Valeria got in back next him, and Mrs. Drazov sat up front. He pulled out his phone and called the clinic.
“Prepare three rooms and find a Geiger counter. Get a drip prepared for acute radiation poisoning. STAT!”
10
When they pulled back into the dealership, there were two black and whites sitting in the parking lot. Four cops were nosing around, and Jackson looked at his watch.
“We’ve been gone for nearly three hours! I totally lost track of time.”
Just then, the oldest owner-brother came screeching up and got out, slamming his door.
Jackson got out a moment later.
“Jackson! Where da hell you been?” he shouted in broken Slav-English. Obviously, he was pissed.
“People been call here, try get help! You in charge here today. Paul sick. We being call, you never answer!” he shouted at Jackson.
Black Flag Rising: A James Jackson Thriller Page 5
