The Zombie Deception

by Marvin Wolf

  He moved silently to the dumpster, went past it, and after pulling on gloves and wrapping the blanket around himself, found a spot against the wall to crouch between a telephone pole and the dumpster.

  After ten minutes, he eased to his feet, and silently did ten slow pushups against the pole until he was a little warmer.

  Hardly had he settled back into his crouch when he sensed the presence of another person. He backed against the pole; after several seconds a muscular man several inches taller than Will strode past him down the middle of the alley. When the man reached the mouth of the alley, which was partially illuminated by street lights, Will saw that he was clad in close-fitting dark clothes and wore a ski mask. He looked left and then right before producing what looked like a walkie-talkie. He spoke into it in a low voice.

  Then he turned left and melted into the darkness.

  Half a minute later, Will heard the unmistakable whine of an electric motor and a soft rumble that he supposed was a garage door. Hooded parking lights appeared at the far end of the alley, and Will heard the faint but familiar opening notes of a military march. The car turned right, away from Will’s end of the alley and a moment later its taillights went bright red. Its headlights blasted the street, and the SUV turned right and disappeared from view.

  Will returned to his crouch. Several minutes passed until the motor whined again. Another dark shape with hooded parking lights appeared at the far end of the alley. This one crept down the pavement toward him. Flattening himself against the back of the pole, as the car passed he darted into the alley, bent almost double. He found the SUV’s right rear wheel well, and when the vehicle paused at the alley’s mouth, he slipped one of his radio trackers inside the well.

  The car sped away as Will returned to his hiding spot.

  A few minutes later he felt his cell phone vibrate against his thigh and fished the phone out of a trouser pocket. Concealing the phone’s glow beneath his blanket, he read a text message: “LET’S GO HOME.”

  Closing the phone and returning it to his pocket, he gathered the blanket under one arm and stealthily left the alley to cross the street. As he slid into the front seat next to Ash, she grinned. “Good job, Spaulding. Got a signal from your tracker, and another from Landon’s—he’s headed back to the base.”

  Will said, “Did you get a little sleep?”

  Ash shook her head. “Not much.”

  “Ash, about that little stunt—“

  “We’re both tired. We’ll revisit that at a better time,” she said, and pulled away from the curb.

  Chapter 43

  Chelmin said, “You’ve all had quite a night. But let’s not forget that our investigative goal is to find out what happened to the missing officers. How will busting an illegal gambling den move us toward that goal?”

  Will swallowed the last of his second cup of coffee and looked around the conference table, wondering if he should answer or let one of the others.

  Ash spoke up. “Landon was poking around in gambling because we’re sort of desperate to find some link between Slocum, McHugh, and Lopez—the three missing officers. Spaulding and I learned that another missing person, Sharon Coe, had ties to this base—the officer who fathered her child, and the soldier who later married her. That led us to Mrs. Richardson, the child’s grandmother, who had a motive for wanting Coe dead—custody of the child. She also pounced on Coe’s house the day after she disappeared and made off with documents. It’s as if she knew that Sharon wasn’t coming back.”

  Will said, “So we visited Richardson, and got nothing except that she has a sheriff’s deputy in her pocket. Since then, we have indications that the sheriff’s department buried the Coe murder investigation.”

  Ash said, “But! Coe’s body was dumped out of a chopper into a farm pond. It might have been one of our birds.”

  Chelmin nodded. “And Landon’s investigation led him to the Richardson house, which is an underground casino. Could this be the tip of some crime iceberg?”

  Will said, “And don’t forget, Rudy, that Landon was picked up from the Officer’s Club on this base and returned there by a vehicle that had no trouble entering the base.”

  Chelmin said, “Too bad neither of you got a look at that vehicle and got the tag or the base sticker number.”

  Ash said, “We may have something better. Will got a GPS tracker into a wheel well on one of the other vehicles that left that place.”

  Landon said, “And I put my GPS tracker into the seat of the SUV that brought me back to the base.”

  Chelmin pulled a face. “I’m just hearing this now?”

  Will said, “Hold on, Rudy. We were out well past midnight—I’d just walked in the door when you called this meeting. We can find those vehicles, and we can see where they’ve been. Won’t take five minutes.”

  Chelmin said, “Landon, go jump on that now.”

  Landon got up from the table and left the room.

  Chelmin said, “General Davis’s aide called this morning. His boss wants to see Will right after lunch today. What can we tell him?”

  Will shrugged. “Only that there are at least three other recent disappearances that may be linked to this base—Sharon Coe, and the Thompson brothers. And that Coe’s body was dumped in a farmer’s pond by a helicopter.”

  Ash said, “Sheriff Taliaferro told me that she’d have her deputies check around for civilian helicopters that could have dropped her body.”

  Chelmin said, “Call her and see how that’s going. There can’t be too many in the area, and remember, they’d have to be big enough birds to hold three people.”

  Ash looked interested. “How do you come up with three?”

  Will said, “One to fly the bird, one to push Coe’s body out, and Coe. There are some very small civilian helicopters, like the Robinson, that seat only two. I’m not sure you could take off with three people and a full load of fuel. We should be looking for larger aircraft.”

  Will said, “Does the county sheriff have a helicopter?”

  Ash said, “They used to have an old Huey, but the county cut the maintenance funding so they sold it.”

  Will said, “Thanks.”

  Ash said, “I’ll go see Taliaferro while you’re visiting with General Davis.”

  The door to the conference room opened, and Landon entered wearing an ear-to-ear grin.

  “Right now, one of those SUVs is parked near the commissary. The other was at a farmhouse near Bear Creek until a few minutes ago.”

  Chelmin said, “Who’s available for surveillance at the commissary?”

  Ash said, “Foosler and Keiser—Steve and Elliot. And that’s everybody in the office except Katrina. Larry Burton is on leave, and Kendra Fellows is on TDY to the Pentagon.”

  Chelmin said, “Landon, brief Foosler, and Keiser. Surveillance only. No attempt to contact the driver or occupants. If they move, follow at a distance—use the GPS to track them. Tell them to get the tag number and base registration sticker number, and call that in.”

  Landon nodded. “On it.”

  Chelmin said, “Hold on, Landon. I don’t want you anywhere near that vehicle. You’re still undercover.”

  “Got it, boss.”

  Will said, “Landon—you said the other one was at a farmhouse near Bear Creek. Where is it now?”

  Landon shook his head. “That’s the one you tagged. Its GPS went off the air about twenty minutes ago.”

  Chelmin said, “Might have fallen off the vehicle and been run over.”

  Will said, “Or maybe they found it.”

  Ash said, “Or maybe it’s in a building or under an overpass. Somewhere the signal can’t get out.”

  Chelmin said, “How long will the batteries last?”

  Ash said, “Maybe a week.”

  Chelmin looked at Landon. “Go! Get that surveillance started.”

  Chapter 44

  Chelmin looked at Ash, then at Will. “How’s that partnership working out?”

  Will sh
rugged. “Great. Ash is a fine investigator.”

  Ash smiled. “Will’s pretty sharp, too. We’re good together.”

  Chelmin said, “I had to ask. This didn’t start as a happy pairing.”

  Ash laughed. “As arranged marriages go, this isn’t terrible.”

  Will said, “We’ve had a few kinks, but we worked them out.”

  Ash said, “No complaints. He even rolls the car window down before he farts.”

  Will said, “And she sometimes offers to pay for lunch.”

  Chelmin granted Ash a brief grin. “Good. What do you think we should do about this casino?”

  Ash said, “Landon brought back a bunch of digital photos that we haven’t looked at yet. It would be good to share those with Sheriff Taliaferro and see who she can identify.”

  Will said, “Hold on. How do we know she’s not in Richardson’s pocket too?”

  Ash shrugged. “We don’t. Maybe we could test her with one or two pictures and see what happens. Not tell her where they came from, just show a face.”

  Chelmin said, “Let’s see the pictures, first.”

  Will said, “Let’s not forget that our mission is to find Sharon Coe’s killer, in the hope that it will help us find out what happened to our missing officers.”

  Landon stuck his head in the door. “Steve Foosler thinks that he’s spotted the SUV. He’ll be texting the tag and bumper sticker info in a few minutes.”

  Chelmin nodded. “When you have that, go next door and ask the desk sergeant to run them on his system.”

  Landon frowned. “We have access to their system. Why—”

  “Because if there’s anything hinky about the tag or the sticker, I want MPs to approach the vehicle.”

  Will said, “So it will look like MPs caught it? Not us?”

  “Exactly. I want it to seem routine. Ask the desk sergeant to tell his men to find a reason to run the tag.”

  Landon said, “It could always have a broken tail light.”

  Chelmin frowned. “I hope they can do better than that. Maybe the plate’s expired—easy enough to pull the sticker off. Or they rolled through a stop sign.”

  “Got it,” said Landon. “Uh, I’ve got a question about last night.”

  Chelmin said, “It’s a gray area.”

  “What is?”

  “Poker winnings from an illegal casino while working undercover. For now, it’s evidence. Deduct your own money—what you started with—and prepare a voucher for the rest. Then secure it in the evidence safe. We’ll see how the investigation turns out. If we don’t bust the casino, and intelligence that you gathered leads us to something on the murder case, I can make a strong argument that you should keep the money.”

  Ash said, “Uh, wait. Sorry, Alvie, but about four or five months ago we got a Secret Service circular. Something about counterfeit hundreds. Anyway, if I remember this right, the Secret Service wants to see all hundred or fifty-dollar bills seized as evidence. If they’re genuine, they’ll be returned. If not, there’s an ongoing investigation.”

  Landon shook his head in disbelief. “Where do I send them?”

  Ash said, “You don’t. Call the Secret Service office in Huntsville, and they’ll send somebody down. Takes a couple of weeks, usually, before they get around to sending somebody.”

  Chelmin said, “I’ll call them.”

  Landon pulled a face. “Okay. First, do you want to look at my photos from last night?”

  Chelmin nodded. “Can you put them on the plasma?”

  “Give me five minutes. Gotta download from my watch to a thumb drive.”

  Chapter 45

  A small, wiry, prematurely balding man of 28, Special Agent Steve Foosler climbed into the backs of Elliot Keiser’s white 2014 Chevy Malibu, put his personal Nikon D750 SLR to his right eye, and peered through its telephoto lens.

  “Elliot, can you back up, just a little?” he said. “I need a better angle on the sticker.”

  Keiser started the engine, glanced around the bustling Fort Rucker commissary parking lot, and put the transmission in reverse. The car crept backward.

  “More,” said Foosler.

  “I’m gonna hit that post,” said Keiser.

  “It’s like, three feet away.”

  “More like one foot.”

  “Don’t be a pussy.”

  Keiser put the car in park, set the parking brake, and got out. A big, broad-shouldered man with a full head of blond hair and a long, thin, Nordic nose, he moved behind the car and held up two hands until they were about the length of a stalk of celery. Then he opened the back door to peer at Foosler.

  “I’ve got about a foot to spare. That gonna help?”

  Foosler shook his head. “How ‘bout, I drive, you take the photos?”

  “I’ll drive. Get out and walk to a better angle.”

  “They’ll see me. Ash said to be unobtrusive.”

  Cursing under his breath, Keiser climbed back into the front seat and started the engine. He released the parking brake and started forward.

  The woman driving a minivan into his path jammed on the brakes and honked.

  “You need to look where the hell you’re going,” she shouted through an open window. “I got kids in here!”

  Chagrined, Keiser lifted both hands, palms outward.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  The woman drove off.

  Looking both ways, Keiser eased the Malibu out of the parking spot and turned right. He drove to the end of the row, turned right again, and stopped.

  “Steve—move over to the other side. I’ll go by real slow and you can get a picture as we pass.”

  Foosler said, “Wait. If we’re gonna be that close, I gotta change lenses. This is a telephoto zoom. I need a wide-angle.”

  A loud honk sounded from behind the Malibu, and Keiser looked in the mirror. A Subaru Forester with a woman behind the wheel was right behind him.

  He stuck his arm out the window and gestured to the driver to go around.

  The Subaru backed up, then swung left into the path of an oncoming Honda.

  They met with a crunch, and the Subaru driver jumped out and ran to the Malibu, where she pounded on Elliot’s window.

  “This is your damned fault! I’m calling the MPs!”

  Keiser rolled down the window and showed his badge. “I’ll testify to your reckless driving. Go talk to the other driver.”

  As he rolled the window down, Foosler said, “Okay. Let’s rock and roll.”

  Keiser took his foot off the brake and the car rolled forward to the next row of parked cars. He turned the corner and drove slowly toward the middle of the row—and an empty space where minutes earlier the black GMC Yukon hybrid had been parked.

  “Son of a bitch!” said Foosler. “He’s gone.”

  “Use your tracker app and find it.”

  Foosler took out his phone and thumbed open the app.

  “Looks like he’s headed north on Andrews.”

  Keiser made his way out of the parking lot, then threaded the network of busy streets that made up the main post, keeping to the base speed limit of 20 mph, and stopping at intersections until he reached Andrews Avenue. He turned north and drove faster.

  Keiser said, “Where is he now?”

  “Just turned left onto Christian Road.”

  “In the housing area?”

  “Looks like it.”

  Slowing to 20 mph, both men squirmed in their seats as Elliot turned left into Christian Road and continued past a series of cross streets. Dozens of small, neat, almost identical houses lined the roadway.

  “Where is he now, Steve?”

  Foosler said, “Approaching Four Mile Creek. Looks like he’s going to the heliport.”

  Ninety seconds later, approaching th the unpaved road that parallels Four Mile Creek, Foosler cursed. “He’s disappeared. Gone. I can’t see him on the app.”

  As they approached the turnoff, Keiser slowed the car.

  “Do you see hi
m in the app yet?”

  “I just told you that he disappeared.”

  “Maybe the tracker quit?”

  Foosler shrugged. “Possible. Landon said he jammed it into the back of the seat, between the cushions.”

  “Maybe the driver found it?”

  “Maybe, but why now?”

  Keiser braked the car to a halt on the narrow shoulder. “Steve, come up in front with me. Maybe he went off the road into the creek.”

  Foosler got out and walked around to the front door, then climbed in.

  “Let’s take a slow ride down Four Mile Creek road and see what we can find,” he said.

  Chapter 46

  Ash said, “Wait, Alvie. Go back one.”

  Landon used the remote and the photo on the big plasma screen in the conference room faded into the previous one.

  Ash said, “I’m pretty sure the man in the center, standing at the bar, is Judge Sewell.”

  Chelmin said. “Do you know him?”

  “Andrea Taliaferro took me to his chambers and we tried to get him to sign a search warrant for Idelle Richardson’s phone and financial records.”

  Spaulding said, “I guess we know why he said no.”

  Chelmin said, “What do you think about showing that photo to Taliaferro?”

  Ash shook her head. “Not a good idea. At least one of her deputies is on Richardson’s payroll. No telling how high this goes.”

  Chelmin nodded his head. “I agree. This has got to be federal from here on out.”

  Will said, “I’ve been thinking about this, and I wonder if we might learn something if we took a peek at the property records for the Richardson house. Construction permits and such. Such as who owns the house and when it got turned into a casino.”

  Chelmin said, “Good idea. Ash, while Will is hobnobbing with the general, why don’t you go online and check the Houston County tax assessor and find out who actually owns that house. Then, go down to the Dothan Planning Department and look at the building permits. See when a nice house in a nice neighborhood became a secret gambling casino.”