by G. K. Parks
“How do we know there are more soldiers of fortune out there?” Cooper asked. “Based on yesterday’s reports, it’s possible they’ve all been wiped out.”
“Until you can guarantee that with absolute certainty, we’re working under the assumption that more will come. Passport records are being reviewed. Since we have photos and fingerprints of the men involved in yesterday’s attack, it should make it easier to pinpoint others who traveled into the country around the same time. Based on what Homeland has to say, the mercs probably entered the country in waves,” Jablonsky stated.
“What about the half a dozen or so that were apprehended yesterday after the assault on the police station? Why aren’t they being questioned?” Lucca asked.
“They are. The police department is handling that until orders are passed along from Homeland. I didn’t see any reason why we needed to enter the pissing contest to take custody when there are much better uses for our time,” Jablonsky said. “Lieutenant Tinsley has agreed to give us transcripts and recordings of the interrogations they conduct.”
“The cops need to stay off the streets,” I said, “since they’re the targets. What can we do to pick up the slack?”
“Find Jakov, bring him in, and find out what else Shade has planned.” Jablonsky looked around the room. “Look, people, yesterday hurt. We don’t have time to mourn or to process. I know you’re angry, scared, and possibly homicidal,” he cracked a slight smile, “but we push on. The best thing we can do is stop this from happening again. If anyone has any idea how to find Jakov or any clue how to track down the hired guns, speak up. I’m all ears.”
No one spoke, but an errant thought kept running through my mind. I cleared my throat. “Donaldson’s CI file might be key. The restaurant employees that Ivan was ratting on should know something. You and Tinsley were questioning them yesterday before shit blew up. They might have known Niko’s true identity or something else relevant to stopping another terrorist attack. We need to speak to them again, and we need to review all of Donaldson’s notes again for any discrepancies or odd information that didn’t fit before.”
“Okay,” Mark nodded, “Lucca, take a team and head to the precinct. Request a transfer, but if that fails, question them there. We don’t need to waste time.”
“Yes, sir.” Lucca looked at me. “Are you coming?”
“Actually, there’s something else I want to follow up on.” I focused on Mark, shaking my head slightly instead of sharing it with him.
“Then let’s get to work. Dismissed,” Jablonsky said, leaving the conference room and hitting the elevator without missing a beat.
Taking a deep breath, I waited for the rest of the room to empty, and then I stepped out of the conference room. Everyone was determined and desperate to end this, and so was I. Swallowing, I took the elevator to a different level and wandered down the dreaded path that I had come to despise years earlier. Knocking on the door, I licked my lips, hoping that Weiler was out.
“Enter,” he called, looking up as I opened the door and stepped inside. “Mandatory counseling?”
“No.” I snorted. “Not yet, anyway. We need your help.”
“The behavioral analysis unit is working on a psychological profile for Jakov Horvat based on the latest information. Forensic psychology isn’t my area of expertise. I doubt I can give you anything faster or more useful than they can.”
“Okay, well, it turns out Niko killed Detective Donaldson. He could’ve killed me, and frankly, given what we know, it makes no sense why he didn’t.”
“He didn’t kill you because you’re a woman.”
“So he’s sexist?”
“Possibly, but he saw his mother gunned down in front of him. It’s unlikely he’d intentionally put himself into a position to revisit that trauma.”
“But he planned to kill me,” I argued.
“Maybe someone else was going to do it. You said Niko was in the back seat, so there must have been a driver. Maybe he was told to kill you.”
“Thanks, Doc. That makes me feel so much better.”
“You asked for help. I’m just giving you my honest opinion.” He picked up the copy of the reports and files that the FBI had received concerning Shade. “I find it hard to believe that you came down here yourself just to ask for a rudimentary profile. Why are you really here, Agent Parker? Do you want to talk about yesterday?”
“No,” I growled, struggling to keep my annoyance to a minimum, “we need a lead, which means I have to remember who else was in the kitchen helping Niko murder two men.” I sat on the end of the couch and hugged the pillow. “Hypnotize me, but so help me if you make me cluck like a chicken.”
“Apart from the fact that hypnotherapy is nothing like a vaudevillian act, I can’t just snap my fingers and make you remember something that your psyche suppressed.” He came around the desk and sat in the chair across from the couch. “First of all, for you to be open to any therapeutic technique, you have to feel safe. It’s apparent you don’t.”
“Cut the bullshit. Just talk me through the Kantian or Freudian hullaballoo.”
“Fine, but I don’t expect this to work.”
“We’ll see.”
“Shut your eyes,” he said, flipping on the white noise machine, “and take a deep breath. How do you feel?”
“Frustrated,” I opened one eye and looked at him, “let’s just cut to the chase.”
He sighed. “Talk me through that evening, just whatever sights, smells, and tastes that come to mind. Describe them. Focus on them. The facts aren’t important; you’ve gone through that information with the investigators. So just concentrate on immersing yourself in the memory.”
I remembered the chime when I first entered Pepper, the smell of thyme and garlic, the sizzle of a skillet, and the low roar of people talking and laughing. I remembered the indention of the carving on the bar beneath my fingertip and the sound of Donaldson’s voice. Ivan was harder to remember since he stayed in motion the entire time. He didn’t spend a lot of time speaking to us, instead whispering a few phrases or pointing out employees between serving drinks and writing notes.
“Okay, let’s move on to after the restaurant closed. Focus on that,” Weiler instructed.
The frigid breeze against my skin, the smell of the cold, and the prickles on the back of my neck when that man approached. He stayed concealed, ushering me back inside and into the kitchen. It was a rush. A blur.
“I never got a look at him,” I said.
“Keep going,” Weiler insisted. “You have to work past what happens next. Just remember, you’re in a safe place, Alexis. No one can hurt you here.”
I snorted at the condescending words. “No shit, really?”
“Focus.”
“It’s dark. Everything has a red tint to it from the exit sign.” I closed my eyes tighter. “I can see Donaldson. There’s a body slumped in the corner. It has to be Ivan.”
“You’re not sure?”
“I was, but now it’s hazier. I know it’s him though. His body was found alongside the detective’s.”
“What about the other man? Is he in the room?”
“He’s behind me. He’s keeping out of my line of sight. He follows Niko’s orders but doesn’t speak much. He cuffed me to the chair and held me at gunpoint. Shit.” I bolted upright on the couch. “During the interrogation, Niko said he should have killed me, and you just said that he would have avoided the act if he could.”
“What are you getting at, Agent Parker?”
“In the back seat of the SUV, the man pulled the trigger.” I held up my casted arm, knowing that the damage to the webbing of my hand was a result of the failed attempt to fire. “I recognized him as the interrogator, but if what you said is right, it was Jakov that planned to shoot me. Niko must have been driving.” I stood up, heading for the door. I had to see the surveillance footage from outside Pepper again. Lucca said that they spotted Jakov on the feed, but it might have been Niko since they did
n’t see Jakov loading the SUV with the bodies. Perhaps they were both there that night. At the moment, I couldn’t figure out if that would hurt or help us in the long run.
Once I found the file, I watched it play through with Agent Lawson peering over my shoulder. He adjusted the sharpness as best he could, but the glimpse of the man we believed to be Jakov Horvat was nothing more than a quick pass. It was enough to place either him or his twin brother at Pepper the night of the murder, but I doubted we’d need the solid evidence. I was there. I remembered seeing at least one of them. Dammit, maybe my double vision from the booze was actually twins.
After thanking Lawson for his continued patience with my off-the-wall requests, I detoured to the behavioral analysis unit to find out if they’d finished their profiles. They were briefing a crisis negotiator and SSA Jablonsky on the details when I appeared. Mark waved me over, and I listened in. Apparently, they believed that Jakov was the meeker brother, but he was bullied and guilted into helping Niko with his vendetta.
“They both suffered the same loss, but Jakov’s world rebuilt itself. His understanding of the world was painted by the love and support his adopted parents provided. However, they both have a shared history. Jakov probably repressed it until he came face-to-face with Niko. Based on the communication logs we’ve seen and passport records, it’s only been in the last ten years that the two were reunited,” the analyst said.
“That’s because Niko wanted to have things in place before he recruited the final piece of the puzzle,” Jablonsky said. “He couldn’t be sure how Jakov would take it, and in the event his brother betrayed him, he wanted to be able to carry out his plan before the authorities could stop him.”
“Probably,” the analyst agreed.
“Do you think Jakov suffered some kind of episode?” I asked. “Normal people don’t turn into killers overnight, but I’m fairly certain that Jakov was the man who attempted to murder me.” Mark raised a brow. “That’s the verdict Weiler and I reached a few moments ago.”
The analyst mulled it over for a few minutes. “If the juvie record belongs to Niko and not Jakov, which would explain the fingerprint discrepancy, then I’d say that the brothers weren’t reunited until their mid-teens. By then, the shock would have shattered Jakov’s self-image. His entire foundation would have shifted. It’s possible that everything he’s done since was to earn Niko’s approval or to make up for being given a life that his brother was denied. Jakov’s been manipulated into feeling like he abandoned his brother and is struggling to make up for it. Niko’s aggressive, dominating attitude, emotional manipulation, and attempt to isolate his brother from rational outside forces have molded Jakov into the perfect vessel to carry out Niko’s mission.”
“So he’s been brainwashed?” the negotiator asked. “How can a situation be deescalated if the subject is in a semi-delusional state?”
“It’s not delusion,” the analyst argued, but Jablonsky interrupted before this turned into a lot of big words and not much useful information.
“Does this make Jakov more dangerous than Niko?” Jablonsky asked.
“That’s hard to say. Jakov will do anything to win his brother’s affection, perhaps to the point of suicide. You need to approach him with extreme caution, and if you attempt to talk him down, choose your words carefully,” the analyst said.
“Parker, what do you have?” Jablonsky asked as we went back to the elevator.
“Nothing. I thought if one of the restaurant employees had been helping Niko, we might be able to find out what Shade’s next target is, but it was his brother, who we can’t locate.”
Mark narrowed his eyes. “I bet they pulled a switch a time or two. It’s probably how the weapons came to be beneath the freezer. Yesterday, someone said that there were times that Jakov acted like he didn’t recognize him. Someone else said he spoke differently. I thought maybe it was his psychosis, like the way he changed when you kept kicking the table, but now I think it’s because they were reenacting The Parent Trap.” He pulled out his phone. “Let’s see how Lucca’s doing. Are you up to revisiting the precinct?”
“If we must.”
“You can bow out, Parker. I probably would if I had the option. It’s not even twenty-four hours. That was some crazy shit yesterday.”
“I’m fine. Send me where you need me.”
Thirty-seven
After several long hours, we were convinced that the staff of Pepper wasn’t part of a sleeper cell of Shade operatives. The police weren’t as quick to jump to that conclusion, and everyone was being held in custody until further notice. A sympathetic judge had signed arrest warrants for all of them, and given the extreme circumstances, the employees were denied bail. However, from Detective Donaldson’s records and his informant files, the restaurant was a front for gang activity. The information and case files had been turned over to narcotics and gangs to sort through. Even if they weren’t terrorists, those involved would pay for something. After all, it was the initial illegal activity that led Donaldson to Pepper in the first place.
“What about the other restaurants?” Lucca asked.
“We’ve run backgrounds on everyone. Homeland even checked our work, but aside from a few minor violations, everyone’s clean. No ties to the Balkans, terrorists, drugs, guns, or the Horvats. The same can’t be said for that trucking company,” Jablonsky offered. “One of the drivers made a lot of money recently. He’s offered up everything he knows.”
“Doubtful,” Tinsley muttered. We were inside the roll call room, sharing updates on our progress. “He knew he was transporting something illegal. He should have reported it sooner. He’s just as guilty as the rest of them.”
“What’d he think was in the crates?” I asked, understanding her anger.
“Exotic ingredients,” Jablonsky said. “We know that a man matching Horvat’s description approached him during a routine delivery at Pepper and told him that if he loaded a few dozen extra crates onto the truck and dropped them off at the restaurants without saying a word, he’d be handsomely rewarded.”
“Where’d he get the crates?” Tinsley asked.
“They were left outside the warehouse. It was timed. Surveillance footage is being collected and analyzed,” Jablonsky replied. “Look, the point is we’re too late to stop what’s already been done, so we need to concentrate our efforts on grabbing Jakov.”
“I think it was a ploy,” Lucca said. “Niko made sure he’d get caught, so we’d be caught with our pants down.”
“Fool me once,” Tinsley snarled. She stormed across the room and slammed her palm against the map. “Police are canvassing the area. We’ll track down this son-of-a-bitch.”
“No uniforms,” I said.
“No.” She agreed. “Even our patrolmen know to wear civvies. We’re under attack, so we’re gonna blend in. If they want to fight dirty, so will we. The entire city is on alert. We’ve removed our visible presence from most of the neighborhoods. We’re better safe than sorry.”
“Are we sure that isn’t what Niko wants?” Lucca asked. “He could be hoping for anarchy.”
“I doubt a riot is going to happen just because the beat cops are out of uniform,” I retorted.
“The commissioner expects an increase in criminal activity, but we’re still patrolling the neighborhoods. And the regulars know what we look like. They won’t do anything that stupid,” Tinsley said. “So until this manhunt is over, none of us with a shield can rest easy.”
“You have the OIO’s full support,” Jablonsky said. “We have agents monitoring every possible location that Jakov might visit, and we have teams at the airports, bus terminals, and roadblocks set up on the roads leading out of the city. He won’t disappear. We’ll find him.”
“What about the soldiers that Shade hired?” Tinsley asked.
“Their records have been carefully examined, and Homeland is in charge of their interrogations,” Lucca said. “Based on our latest update, Assistant Director Behr believes that
roughly forty men were hired. From the casualties and arrests that occurred yesterday and that day on the off-ramp, it’s possible we’ve eliminated the threat completely.”
“They work in teams of four,” I surmised. “Three to carry out the mission and one to coordinate from an op center. So maybe ten teams.”
“What are you basing this on?” Tinsley asked.
“I know a private contractor that operates like that. It makes sense. Plus, there were three shooters trying to take out the police vehicle. Someone removed from the line of fire was controlling things from an outside location.”
“It’s speculation,” Jablonsky said, “but we work with what we have.”
She nodded. “Do what you can, and I’ll do what I have to.” She offered us a grim smile. “Thanks for helping out yesterday.”
“Sure,” Mark said, and I nodded.
After she left the room, Lucca cleared his throat. “There’s nothing else we can do here.” He focused on Mark. “What do we do next, sir?”
“How the hell should I know, kid?” Jablonsky shook his head and looked around. “Dammit.” He picked up a chair and heaved it across the room. “We find that little shit, and we end this by any means necessary.”
* * *
“You’re home early,” Martin greeted when I entered the kitchen. “After the men in black kidnapped you this morning, I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again.” It didn’t sound quite like a joke, but I managed a polite chuckle anyway. “Have you seen the news?”
“Uh-huh.”
“That’s why you turned off my phone last night.” He put the spoon down that he was using to stir whatever he was cooking and reached for me. “Is everything okay? The reporters said it was a coordinated attack and there might be more.”
“Yeah,” I swallowed and looked up at him, “that sums it up.” I wanted to cry, but I shoved my emotions down into the pit of my stomach. “What’s for dinner?”
