Silver Shirts
Page 11
He closed the program and the small dialogue boxes winked out. And now to check on my shirts… they need to be ready when I implement the first stage of my final solution. He clicked on a desktop bookmark and a browser opened on the screen. He sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest as the website for We Are Silver Legion filled on his screen. He investigated American fascist groups over a four-year period, searching for one he could take over, and after being either ignored or rebuffed by several, he finally established a rapport with Pelley’s Silver America. He wooed the four members with money they spent on guns and ammunition and survival gear, all the while listening to and reading his personal philosophy for his intention to take America down, and then bring it back under his exclusive leadership. Once they had pledged allegiance to him, he renamed and redesigned their website, claiming it and them, as his own. Grabbing the headset that lay next to the keyboard, he placed it on his head and positioned the microphone just in front of his lips. He clicked on the webcam icon and checked his image, wanting only his face to show.
He called in a quiet voice, “Is anyone at home?”
The face of a young man filled the screen, “Schmidt? Is that you?”
“I am here.” Jeffers grinned into the small pinhole opening at the top of his monitor, “Did you get my shipment?”
“Yeah, it’s was all in there. We’re gonna go practice in the woods tomorrow.”
Another, slightly older man’s face filled the screen, “Are you ready to initiate?”
“Almost.” Jeffers assured him, “Do you need anything else right now?”
“Yeah,” he nodded, “we’re gonna’ need more reliable transportation… we might as well get it now. I’ve got my eye on some used Hummers and trucks I can get locally.”
“Fine,” Jeffers nodded, “but not locally, and use the ID’s I made you.”
“You got it.”
“Alright then, do you believe?”
The younger man nodded vigorously, “Ja, Herr Schmidt, I believe and I dedicate my life as a Silver Shirt to the Legion.”
“I believe,” the older concurred, “and dedicate my life as a Silver Shirt to the Legion.” Both men tapped their right fist twice over their hearts then extended their hands, held palm down in a classic Nazi salute to the camera.
“And so we will rise…” Jeffers intoned softly, adding, “Good night.” He closed the connection and leaned back in the chair, tilting it until his stocking feet left the floor. They’ve done well… If they can behave themselves… then they can work for me. Just as Pelley hoped to seize power in a silver revolution and set himself up as dictator of the United States, I will do the same… and my Silver Shirts will help me as I lead the way.
New York City, NY
Jordan’s desk phone rang and she glanced at the caller ID before picking it up, “Hey, Stewart.”
“I have good news and bad news…”
She sighed expressively, “Bad news first.”
“Your suspect hit again, this time in La Jolla, California. Our alert popped on the Sheriff’s database and county coroner so I gave them your email address.”
“Any hard drives left behind?”
“Yeah, but they were wiped, their techs removed them and are shipping them straight to Doctor Bernard in case she can retrieve something.”
“So, there’s no reason for me to go out there?”
“You were the one who found the used condom up in Winthrop so I think it’s a good idea that you go for a look see.”
“Okay,” she leaned her head on a hand propped on her desk, “and the good news?”
“Going to sunny California…” he sounded offended, “Isn’t that a nice trip?”
She frowned, “Well, before I had a home life, yeah, it would have been, Stewart.”
“Oh…” She thought she could hear the wheels turning in his head, “yeah… I forgot. Well then I guess it’s only bad news.”
She tapped the confirm button for her flight on her tablet and slumped further in the seat. Fumbling for the remote in her lap, she clicked open the file with the crime scene photos of Jeffers’s fourth victim, William Zegher; And all the markers indicating Jeffers was the killer are present. She gazed briefly at the auditorium ceiling, craning her neck until the vertebrae popped. She stared at the picture of the dead man lying on his back, the word FAG carved across his chest. Sodomized at least twice and the body wiped clean, the carpet around the body probably vacuumed. She clicked to the next picture of Zegher lying face down, So he’s a modern day Caligula, butt-fucking everyone so he can dominate them.
She heard a soft gasp and when she turned, she saw Catherine standing just inside the door, a horrified look on her face. “Shit…” Jordan muttered, hurrying to close the picture file on the wall-sized screen.
“I knocked,” she whispered in a faint voice, “but…” The picture suddenly disappeared from the screen and she rushed forward, “No, wait! Jordan that is exactly what I saw in my dream!” She pointed at the dark screen, “That shirt! Bring it back…” She gestured frantically, “the victim was wearing that yellow plaid shirt and Jeffers was gripping his shoulders…”
Jordan licked her lips, suddenly feeling nervous, “You saw Jeffers?”
“I…” Catherine shook her head, “no, I didn’t see his face, I just saw hands; I just assumed it was him.”
With reluctance, she reopened the picture file, “Were you seeing it through his eyes?”
“No, I was seeing it from the side… like I was standing next to him.” She crossed the room to sit next to her, “I did,” she jabbed a finger at the screen, “I saw that…”
“I believe you.”
“But,” Catherine scowled, confused, “how is that possible?”
“I don’t know…” Jordan shrugged, “You had this dream night before last?”
“Yes… remember? We made love after.”
“Ah…” Jordan nodded, “like I’d forget that.” Catherine snorted and chuckled, but the sounds quickly faded and she fell silent. “But when you had this dream…” Jordan clicked back to the autopsy report, “The coroner’s time of death…” Her brows arched high, “Uh… given the three hours difference between the west coast and here…” She pointed at the screen, “I remember the time you woke up because you asked if it was too late or early for sex… I think it’s possible you were having this dream here on the east coast at or around the same time Jeffers was killing his victim on the west.” The color drained from Catherine’s face and Jordan draped an arm around her, “You okay?”
“I…” Intense brown eyes turned to look into a sea of calm and concerned blue, “How is this possible? It was so intense…” she jabbed her finger at the wall-sized screen again, “That is the shirt I saw.”
“I believe you...” she repeated.
Catherine gave her a look, “How can you? This is so bizarre.”
She shrugged, feeling suddenly helpless, “I’ve never had an experience that made me feel like there was something psychic going on, but you know the bureau has studied that kind of thing here a lot.” A single brow arched skeptically on Catherine’s forehead. “Oh yes,” she assured her, “I’ve never been privy to that stuff and to be honest, it all just seemed so subjective I never had any interest in it… but I still believe you.”
“You think I had a psychic experience?”
“I have no idea, but it has to be a possibility.” She cocked her head to one side as she regarded her, “Do you think you’re psychic?”
“No,” Catherine snorted, “if something like that had ever happened to me before I think I’d’ve remembered it.”
“Okay, but the fact you saw that,” she jabbed the remote at the screen, “in a dream makes your experience irrefutable… at least so far.”
Catherine nervously licked her lips, feeling off balance, “So what do we do?”
“I don’t know,” she shrugged again, “were you able to see where you were in the dream?”
“Mostly?”
“Well,” her face colored slightly, “there do seem to be some credible stories out there, and,” she shrugged, combing back her hair with her fingers, “I always wanted to believe my mom was watching over me… when she could, anyway.”
“Okay, well let’s put a pin in the dream for now and come back to it when we have more information or ideas about what to do.” Jordan pressed her lips against soft hair, “And I think we should revisit the idea of you working just with Bea…”
“No,” she pulled away, “please Jordan, I meant it, people see worse things on the news everyday…”
Jordan’s voice was a low murmur when she said, “But your daughter was murdered in front of you.” Catherine’s chin trembled and her eyes brimmed. “I’m sorry,” she tightened the arm around her, pulling her close again, “but I couldn’t live with myself if this kind of work constantly tortured you with what happened that day.”
“I didn’t see… that,” her voice shook, “he shot me first before…” Her fingers trembled, feeling for the scars on her throat and side of her neck and Jordan gently drew them to her lips.
“Catherine, there is a world of difference between you and the average TV viewer who’s never…”
“No.” Catherine’s sudden determined look matched her tone, “Everything in my gut says to let me continue.”
Jordan had to smile, “Okay.”
“Okay.” She drew a shaky breath and sniffed, “In the meantime, I had an idea about the software we found on the victim’s hard drives in Florida.”
“Great,” Jordan leaned back in her chair, feeling more relaxed.
“But… I don’t know if this is something you can do… legally.”
Her brows arched high and she grinned, “Go on…”
“Okay,” Catherine visibly relaxed at the change in subject and turned in her seat to face her, “I was thinking even though you cannot legally touch Jeffers’s offshore accounts and freeze them, I could make it so every time he accesses them he’d get an instant message like, I can see you, or be nice and share, that sort of thing.”
Jordan’s smile was brilliant, “And then what?”
“He knows how to hide his location, but if he responds to the message I may be able to trace him.” Jordan looked shocked and she held up a finger to stop her, “I doubt he’ll be that careless. I can put the program on a new tablet and make the IP address untraceable, and hopefully make him think he’s been hacked.”
“That would freak him out.”
“And maybe you could lead him into a trap, but as I understand it now, hackers are used to this, Jordan. Just as it’s common for online criminals to pretend to be someone other than who they really are, law enforcement officials, like you, have been known to impersonate criminals and hackers in order to catch more of them, yes?”
“Yes,” she agreed, “so Jeffers will be not only be paranoid he’ll be working hard to figure out if we’re a fellow greedy hacker or the cops. He’ll for sure have to slow his activities in order to figure out what’s going on with his offshore funds.” She paused, “Although he could simply open new accounts and start filling them with more millions from more murdered hedge fund managers.” She sighed heavily, “Having any luck finding these guys who made massive financial windfalls five years ago?
“No, trying to track down the victim’s chat room conversations got me nowhere fast… all the data, like IP addresses, is regularly dumped.”
“So… we can’t find these guys and warn them and we can’t stop Jeffers from targeting them.” Jordan fiddled idly with the remote, “All I can really do at this point is wait for him get caught trying to kill again… And the likelihood of that happening becomes increasingly remote since he’ll just get better at killing the more he does it.”
She pulled her arm from around Catherine’s petite frame and dug her phone out of her jacket pocket. She tapped the screen and held it to her ear, “Hey, Stewart, have you got a few minutes?” She paused and added, “Great, I’m on my way.” When she hung up she drew a deep breath, “So, how long would it take you to write that program?”
Catherine’s face colored again and she stared determinedly at the wall screen, “I uh… already did. I just need a new tablet I can configure.”
Jordan chuckled, My god I never thought I could be so turned on just by watching her blush.
La Jolla, CA
Catherine and Cameron dropped her off at the airport in time for her six-forty non-stop flight to San Diego. She tried, unsuccessfully, to sleep on the five and a half hour flight to the west coast and emitted huge yawns in the rental car, once so loudly she drowned out the navigation system and had to make a u-turn.
She came to a stop at the end of Inspiration Court and double-checked the address before pulling into the driveway. You can’t see any of the houses for the overgrown entryways… Jeffers could drive up and down this street all day long and no one would see him. She drove past the wildly overgrown vegetation, seeing the sheriff’s vehicle when she pulled around a bend in the long driveway and rolled down her window. It was only after nine o’clock but she still kept her voice down,
“Good evening,” she held out her badge wallet, “I’m here to do a walkthrough of the victim’s home.”
“Agent Hawkins…” the young deputy actually touched the wide brim of his hat, “I was told you were on your way.”
“Great,” Jordan tucked her wallet back in her jacket pocket, “are you here all night?”
“Till six, then I’ll be relieved by a new deputy.”
“Okay, well, I expect to be here for awhile but I hope to be gone before then.”
He touched the brim of his hat again and stepped back so she could park in front of the house. He had a key for the front door and she thanked him when she entered.
“You bet,” he nodded, locking the front door from the inside, “I’ll lock the deadbolt from outside too… the entire house is locked up tight, I checked it myself when I came on.”
“Thanks.”
He shut the door behind him and she smiled when she heard him turn the deadbolt. She stood in the middle of the living room and ran her fingers through her hair, massaging her scalp. So, Jeffers knew enough about Victim Number Four’s schedule to assume he had time to steal one hundred million dollars in ten million dollar increments… “And,” she added aloud, “We know that from getting warrants on Mister Zegher’s financial records.” She moved her head back and at a slight angle until she felt a vertebrae pop, “So why not just clean them out? You could just clean them out; it’s possible on offshore accounts… You could have a hundred times what you have now.” Her voice dropped to a thoughtful murmur, “But you don’t, you only take an even amount each time then target someone else… Is that supposed to have some sort of symbolic meaning too? Or is it just an excuse so you can play this game; killing, sodomizing and stealing?”
William Zegher, found by his cleaning lady, had the word FAG carved into his chest and had been sodomized after being killed by garrote. He was, unsurprisingly, a successful hedge fund manager who made, like the other victims, a massive windfall on the subprime crash of 2008 to the tune of over fourteen billion dollars. So Jeffers establishes some level of rapport with him online and finagles an invitation here… or maybe he just showed up, who knows? She tiredly scrubbed her face and turning to her left, began her walk through the house, visiting each of the three oversized bedrooms until she got to Zegher’s home office.
She stared down at the dark bloodstained carpet and emitted an exhausted, ragged sigh, “It’s all the same fucking crime scene…” she grumbled aloud. “There’s nothing here except for a big pool of arterial blood…” She shook her head in frustration and left the room. She walked down the hall and into an enormous brick and stone
kitchen, feeling the bottoms of her shoes drag on the tile floor. “So Jeffers pulls in the driveway...” She continued speaking aloud, more to keep herself awake than anything else, “He must have loved the privacy of the long driveway and heavy-duty landscaping.” She stared at the enormous sliding glass doors that looked into darkness and jumped when her phone suddenly chimed and vibrated softly in her jacket pocket. Fumbling to pull it free, she grinned when she saw the blue window that filled her screen; a dark lighthouse emitting a white beam of light filled the center and beneath it blinked the words, “Catherine is sending you a message.”
She stepped over to the counter, leaning her elbows on it. “Hello,” she typed, “it’s been a long while since we’ve used this app.”
“I’m missing you and I can’t sleep. Can you call me?”
Jordan closed the app and tapped the number for home. When Catherine answered she said, “Hello, I really miss you too.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m in the victim’s house, but there’s nothing helpful I can see.”
“I know this was bound to happen but I really wish you were home.”
“Me too…” Jordan began walking through the house again, stopping to eye an eight foot long snow-white couch in the living room. “My return flight lands at two-fifteen, can you leave work early and pick me up?”
Catherine scoffed, “You know I will.”
“I do,” Jordan chuckled, “and I need to ask a favor, when you get up can you call me? I’m gonna’ go through this place again and hope something terribly insightful will leap out at me and then I’m going to take a little nap on the couch.”
“Doesn’t Stewart know all the evidence collected that is isn’t digital is being shipped to us?”