Ogrodnik

by Gary Coffin

  “Coffee?”

  Rayce pointed to a fresh pot over by the fridge.

  Elliot sat across from Rayce with his coffee and watched Rayce scribble out notes on a pad. After a few minutes, he asked, “What’s next? “

  Rayce looked up from his notepad. “Whatever advantage we thought we had is now gone. They sent that guy out here for a purpose. It was not a recon mission. He was sent to kill you and whomever else might get in his way.”

  “How do you know?”

  “He had a silenced gun tucked into his waistband when I took him. Did you see the tattoo on his wrist?”

  “Yes, it looked like a Middle East language.”

  “It was Arabic. It translates to ‘infidel.’ That man fought in the Middle East: probably in Syria or Iraq. He’s a merc.”

  Rayce waited for a few moments as if he were deciding what to say. “I visited Eastern last night and took the facility out.”

  “Took the facility out. What does that mean?”

  “There were only four mercs at the compound. They left themselves vulnerable, so I took the opportunity to eliminate them and then burned the compound to the ground,“ Rayce stated without emotion.

  Elliot looked at Rayce trying to find words for his next question.

  “You killed four men last night? Were they the guys we’re looking for? They might have been innocent.”

  Rayce’s drew in a deep breath before answering. “There are no innocents. These men are soldiers, hired killers. When they got this job, they brought their guns with the intent to use them. They know who we are and where we live. It’s them or us, Forsman, and, just so we’re on the same page. Sarah’s and your father’s killers will answer for what they’ve done. And I fully expect they’ll answer with their lives.”

  Elliot said nothing as he came to the full realization of the situation.

  “I did manage to extract intel from one of them.”

  Elliot wanted to know what “extract” meant but kept that question to himself. “What did you find out?”

  “The four in the compound were all relatively new to the team, all with less than a year at Eastern. They didn’t know why the old man was killed and had never heard of Sarah. These guys were muscle and paid strictly from the neck down. The rest of the Eastern mercs are holed up in the place he called ‘the bunker.’ It’s a building at the back of the Biovonix property. My intel guy, Evan, is gathering details on the bunker as we speak.”

  “What did he say about Biovonix?”

  “He didn’t know anything about Banik or Biovonix except that Biovonix pays the bills.”

  Elliot mulled over this new information. “Did he say anything about Ogrodnik?”

  “He verified what we already suspected. Ogrodnik does work for Banik on occasion, but he is not one of them. The merc doesn’t know where he is or how to find him.”

  “Where does that leave us?”

  “I’ll wait for new intel to come in, but I’d like to hit the bunker as soon as possible. If we take the fight to them, it could be to our advantage. I’m going to need your help.” Rayce continued to jot items down on a pad.

  Rayce went to the window and separated a couple of blind slats with his fingers to peer out toward the parking lot.

  “Do you know these guys?”

  Elliot looked out alongside Rayce. “It looks like my friends Detectives Duval and Durocher.”

  Rayce went out to meet them as they exited the unmarked car.

  “Rayce Nolan?” Duval asked as they approached the house.

  “That’s me.”

  “I’m Detective Duval, and this is my partner, Detective Durocher,” he said displaying his badge.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “We’re here investigating a fire last night in Pointe St Charles, and we have a witness who says a man matching your description was seen in the area last night. We’d like you to come down to the station to answer questions.”

  “Which station would that be, Detective?”

  “Ville de Montreal, central office.”

  “Aren’t you out of your jurisdiction here?”

  “Let’s just say we have a collaboration agreement with the locals,” answered Duval as he tried to control his irritation.

  “Am I under arrest?”

  Rayce saw the two readying for a possible confrontation. Duval, closest to Rayce, was reaching for his handcuffs, and Durocher, standing back another 10 feet away, had his hand on the butt of his revolver. Rayce did nothing knowing that any sudden moves would surely draw Durocher’s gun from its holster. He also knew that if he got into the back of the police car, he’d probably never make it out alive.

  “Gentlemen,” yelled Elliot as he walked out of the door holding his cell phone in the air.

  “Before you answer that question, I’d like you to say hello to my attorney, Joseph Greenspan.”

  “Joseph, can you hear us?”

  “Yes, Elliot, I hear you quite well,” came the tinny response from the cell phone.

  Les RD Boys stepped back without saying anything in order to reevaluate the situation.

  “I’ll repeat my question. Am I under arrest?”

  The seconds ticked by until Duval eventually responded. “No, we’d just like to ask you a few questions.”

  “In that case, I’m not going anywhere, but if you’ve got a question, then let’s hear it.”

  “Where were you last night between midnight and 2:00 a.m.?”

  “I was here at my house, asleep.”

  “Can anyone verify that?”

  “I can,” replied Elliot. “I was also here.”

  “Having a little bro sleepover were you?” sneered Duval while shooting a glance over at his partner.

  “Is there a law against that?” asked Elliot. The detective had a look on his face like a grade school kid who got caught passing notes to his girlfriend.

  “Let me ask you a question, Detective. How did you know what I look like? We’ve never met, and I don’t have a police record.”

  The detectives said nothing as they realized that their play was busted.

  The tinny voice on the phone interrupted the moment, “I think you’ve said enough, Mr. Nolan. Let the detectives go back to their books, and if they have some real questions for you, I’ll make myself available to represent you.”

  The two detectives turned to slink back to the car, and Duval turned back to Rayce as something just entered his mind. “Do you mind if we look around?” His head bowed slightly after the words left his mouth knowing that he’d set himself up for another failure.

  “Do I need to ask you if you have a warrant, Officer? If the answer is no, then you should be on your way.”

  Rayce and Elliot watched as the squad car fishtailed out of the parking lot.

  “Sammy, you actually sounded like a lawyer.”

  “I won’t take that as an insult, but what can I say? I’m a man of many fucking talents. And if they’re working for the cunts that cut off my thumb, then I’d do that and more, up close and personal, if you know what I mean.”

  “Thanks, Sammy. I’ll let you know if we need you again,” said Elliot as he ended the call, and they returned to the house.

  “Well, I guess the cat’s out of the bag. They know I torched Eastern last night and sent out a fishing expedition to see if they could get lucky. If you hadn't been here, it could have gotten messy,” said Rayce as he settled back down in front of his notepad.

  Elliot sat with his coffee cradled between his hands staring blankly out the window.

  “What are you thinking?” Rayce asked.

  “Just going through the case in my mind trying to make sense of it all.”

  “Walk me through it. Two heads are better than one.”

  “Okay. Eight years ago, there was a massive fire at the Waller Building in the McGill campus. It destroyed the entire medical research facility at the university. It was arson, but the culprit was never found nor a motive e
stablished. The only reason I start here is that the MO for the arson was the same at the Waller Building as Eastern Security used at my house.

  “Three years ago, my wife, who was working at the university in the Medical Records Office at the time, was killed in an apparent accident. We know now that it wasn’t an accident and that the same security company that Biovonix uses, Eastern Security, was responsible for her death. Coincidence? Not likely.

  “Last month my father was also killed by Eastern Security. Was he killed for the same reason that my wife was killed? Unknown. I do know that he was researching pharmaceutical companies in the weeks before his death and that he met with Alex Banik the week before he was murdered.

  “Since we started investigating Dad’s murder, Rivka and I have both been warned off the investigation. My assumption is that both Dad and Sarah came across some information related to the Isotin testing that got them killed. The fact that we’re still alive tells me that Biovonix was afraid that murdering me or Rivka would draw too much attention to their situation and, therefore, they were reluctant to do away with us. That of course, has now changed; we are on Eastern’s hit list, which means we must be getting too close.”

  “On top of the Biovonix and Isotin situation, there is a connection with the Stungun Killer. It seems to me this could be coincidental. I have not seen any other Biovonix events that are related to the Stungun angle and can’t fathom how they could be related.

  “I’m going to put the Stungun angle off to the side for now. I’m not saying that I don’t want to pursue it. I do, as does Rivka, but we need to focus our efforts on one thing at a time, and because a band of mercenaries is hunting us, that makes Eastern Security a pretty good area to focus on. My next move will be to visit the university. I know the person who manages the research program. She would know what happened eight years ago and if Biovonix is a university client, and she might be able to shed some light on Sarah’s involvement three years ago.“

  Elliot paused and looked over at Rayce. “What are your thoughts on Eastern and what their game plan is? They sent a hit man after promising to leave me alone. That tells us they already had a plan. Now that you’ve struck the first blow against them, we have to assume it’ll be an all-out war.”

  Rayce started in a low rasp. “Yilmaz will have a plan. They sent the cops out here so that tells me that he knows who I am and that I’m involved. I’d rather take the fight to them. He probably knows that, and he’ll be ready for us. We took them by surprise last night. They weren’t expecting you to take the fight to them, and they certainly weren’t expecting you to have someone like me helping. The mercs in the compound were not on high alert. They were little more than staked goats. I’ll be getting details about the Biovonix bunker later today. I won’t try to plan anything until I get that report.”

  “Okay. We have a lot to do today. I’m going into town to the university. I need to get to the bottom of this Biovonix mystery. I also need to get Rivka onboard and see if I can bring her back here. She’s in danger, and she doesn’t know it. She’s not answering her phone, so I’ll swing by her house.” And in anticipation of Rayce’s warning, he added, “and I’ll go to Rivka’s across the golf course so if someone’s watching her house, they won’t see me.”

  Elliot continued mulling over the case while nursing his coffee and came to the point where he wanted more background on Yilmaz and Rayce.

  “So you know Yilmaz?” Elliot probed hoping that Rayce would answer this time.

  Elliot let the question hang sensing that Rayce might be internally debating if he should answer or not. After a long moment, Rayce began as if he had to force the words out in his low, throaty voice.

  “They call him the Owl,” he said as he leaned back in his chair and stared blankly out the window.

  Elliot thought about Yilmaz and the way his face seemed to pull out forward from the middle centered on a hawkish nose and could easily see how the description of Owl made sense.

  Rayce continued as if he had read Elliot’s thoughts, “It’s not what you might think. They call him the Owl because he preys on the young and helpless in the night. They say his sexual appetite knows no boundaries. He takes what he wants and discards them when he’s finished. Women, children, whomever.”

  “I first met him in Iraq, back in the early '90s. Yilmaz was a mercenary hired by the Sunni to interface with the coalition forces. He was an easy man to dislike. Rude and arrogant, it was obvious he didn’t like the coalition and even more obvious that he liked his employers less. We butted heads the first time we met. In the morning scrum, he was critical of the way I ran my team and then openly questioned the coalition strategy. I didn’t say anything until later when I cornered him in the mess tent. When I challenged him on his words, he tried to dismiss me as if I were one of his trainees and beneath his attention. I made it quite clear to him as his feet dangled six inches from the floor that if he had an issue with my team or the manner in which I ran it, he should come see me in private.” Rayce stopped to reflect.

  “The coalition had driven Saddam’s armies out of Kuwait in Operation Desert Storm but wouldn’t go as far as ousting Saddam from power. At that time, Saddam had squashed the Kurd rebellion in the north and Sunni in the south and, to provide some protection to those rebels, the coalition enforced a no-fly zone in southern Iraq.

  “I led a small team in an initiative called ‘Operation Sand Badger.' The Iraqis had retreated from the Kuwaiti border but had left behind hidden missile launchers, anti-aircraft installations and munitions depots in the desert that could still be used against us. My mandate was to find those dirty sites left behind by the retreating Iraqi forces and get rid of them. My primary source of intel came from a geostationary satellite high above the Middle East that detected light sources that could not be correlated to a building or road. Light sources as faint as a match lighting a cigarette or a flashlight would be detected by the satellite, catalogued, and mapped out as Possibles. If a light was detected more than once at the same location on different nights, it was flagged as a Probable Dirty site, and my unit would investigate. We’d take our Humvees out to the general area and then, under cover of darkness, we’d move in to investigate. Using NVGs, we’d drive dark until we were about a mile out and then hoof it in from there just in case the site was occupied.

  “When we found a dirty site, we’d catalogue the contents and then make the call to blow it up ourselves, have it taken out with an airstrike, or to nothing at all.” Elliot nodded in acknowledgement as Rayce told his story.

  “At that time, there were too many Probables for my team to follow up on, so we enlisted help from the defeated Sunni rebels. We’d feed them location intel, and they’d investigate. If the Probable turned out to be a dirty site, they’d catalogue and call it in, just like we would.” Rayce sipped his coffee, and Elliot could see his eyes glaze as he turned his thoughts back.

  “It was the fall of 93. We went out to investigate a Probable Dirty site in the desert west of Basrah. As usual, we went in with our NVGs under cover of darkness and found a munitions depot in a shallow cave system. It turned out this wasn’t a typical munitions depot, though. We uncovered a stash of modern Surface-to-Air missile launchers. There were Stingers, StarStreaks and FIM-92s, the best in current SAM technology. In the back, there was also a large stash of containers that looked like they contained something toxic. I radioed in the label descriptions to central, and they identified them as Sarin nerve gas canisters.

  This was not a stash and forget munitions depot. Based on signs of recent activity, it was obvious that the depot was actively being used. Our orders came through that we should fall back and watch the cave from a distance to see if we could catch the Iraqi red handed. For two days and nights, we camped out in a rocky outcrop about three miles from the cave. On the third night, we saw our first activity. A couple of light trucks coming in from the east turned off the road and headed directly for the cave system. Our orders were to watch and
let Command know if anyone approached so they could have an intercept team cut them off on their way out. While the two light trucks were still at the depot, we saw a second party coming in from the north. This one was a substantial convoy of light and heavy transport with armed support coming from deep Iraqi-controlled territory. Command recognized this as a major event and deployed three platoons, fully armed, along with air support to cordon off the cave area and trap the whole lot of them.

  “Once the dust had settled, we found that the original two light trucks were Sunni rebels, and the large convoy was Iraqi Republican Guard. It didn’t take long to figure out that a splinter group of Sunni was stockpiling Iraqi munitions. Before the Sunni would call in an airstrike, they’d raid the depot, take the most valuable ordnance and stash it in this cave system with the intention of selling it back to the Iraqi. Unfortunately, all the Sunni involved in the operation were killed in the ensuing firefight, so we could only speculate as to who the brains behind the operation was. The Sunni were quick to point the finger at Yilmaz, and the fact that he disappeared after that episode lends credence to their theory. It’s possible that the Sunni dispensed their own justice and quietly executed Yilmaz on their own, but one of my colleagues who is still active saw him in Darfur a dozen years ago. I’ve heard various other reports of Yilmaz being seen in Somalia, Angola and Chad. How many are true, I don’t know, but I assume that some of them are.“ Rayce said as he subconsciously rotated his shoulder while running his hand over it as if thinking about Yilmaz had aggravated an old injury.

  “When a mercenary is hired, he is selling more than his gun and his wit. He is selling his loyalty. Yilmaz’s loyalty has never been for sale. He is loyal to two things, himself and the almighty dollar.”

  Elliot could tell from the way that Rayce had described Yilmaz that there was no love between them. In the short time Elliot had known him, he saw that Rayce had no compunctions about taking another man’s life, but he also lived by a strict code of honor; a code that allowed him to operate on the right side of the moral ledger. Yilmaz had no such code. He lived to serve his own interests.