Memories of a Murder

by Sid Kar

  “Always up for driving,” Joe said.

  Frank and Joe exited the headquarters but Frank stopped at the police armory on the way out and replenished his magazines for his rifle. He always liked to keep a steady supply of 10 mags with him in his car at all times. He also told Joe to pick up a couple boxes of buckshot and slugs for the shotgun.

  “What’s going on Frank? Do you expect trouble?” Joe asked.

  “There is also geolocation data next to the phone records,” Frank said, “one of the burners is in that old warehouse outside of Dunlap’s refinery.”

  Joe and Frank got in his car. Joe started up the engine and sped up north. Once they got on the Parkway, Frank took out his cellphone and called Clara.

  “Been waiting for your call, Frank,” Clara responded, “I had to renew the room for one more day.”

  “Listen I got something that may lead to Panther,” Frank said, “But first I want to ask you if you know if Panther was mixed up with any drug rackets out of Afghanistan. And Clara, don’t hold anything back from me.”

  There was a silence on the other end as Clara took a deep sigh and waited.

  “Clara, are you there?” Frank asked, “Look we even let you in on our secret with Friedrich and his crazy scheme to get memories from a dead man’s brain. You can’t refuse me after that!”

  “Okay, Frank, I will tell you more about his background once you get here,” Clara replied.

  “Alright, but don’t leave your room till we are there,” Frank said, “the chances are remote but I don’t want you to run into Panther.”

  “Frank, if he is around I need to know where you suspect him to be,” Clara said then added, “for my own safety.”

  Frank thought about it for a second. He did not want Clara to call in a team of CIA Paramilitary Operatives to apprehend Panther. It was his case. He had tied Adam’s murder to Panther. If they got to Panther before him, they would completely hush it up and his case would forever remain unsolved.

  But it was unlikely. Even if she called a team, they would have to plan and approve an operation. That would take time. He knew from experience. Even if they came in a chopper from DC, Joe’s driving would beat them to it.

  “Clara, he is in that old warehouse next to Dunlap’s refinery, or at least that’s what I think based on the patterns in Dunlap’s calls,” Frank said, “we will investigate once we get there.”

  “I will stay right in my room,” Clara replied, gave them her room number and hung up.

  “You don’t trust her, Frank?” Joe asked.

  “She is definitely hiding something,” Frank said, then looked out the window at the passing traffic and wondered what it could be.

  Clara took a deep breath as she sat down on the edge of her bed with her hands holding up her face. She looked at herself straight ahead in the wall mirror and let the time while away.

  It would be easy to just wait for Frank and Joe, but that would defeat the purpose of her coming here. If she abandoned her resolve now, she might as well have stayed home.

  But would she have the strength to confront him one on one?

  She felt nauseous and ran to the bathroom and leaned over the wash basin and let the water run. But she did not throw up. She started shivering again and it was five minutes before the intensity had reduced.

  It had to be this way.

  She took out her pistol, examined the magazine, put it back under her jacket and walked out of the room.

  Panther lay down on the pillow of his bed while he surfed news on his burner smartphone.

  What a mess.

  That policeman, Frank, was a dangerous opponent to have. It was his bad luck it couldn’t be anyone else.

  But how in the seven hells did he connect him to that truck driver?

  Panther had thought about it over and over again since crawling out of the icy Raritan River with the shakes and a fever. Even in that state of hysteria, as he had popped pill after pill to stabilize his nerves and warm up his body, that one question had haunted him like a wicked ghost. Only he and the client had planned the hit…

  It didn’t matter now, Panther thought, as he rolled up his shirt and caressed his wounds with his fingers. The major had sent one of his boys to take out the pellets and patch him up. Panther was more than capable of doing it himself using the local anesthetics that he had in his possession, but another hand never hurt. The major’s boys were all trained operatives like him – albeit not as good as him – as Panther had always reminded the major. He could operate alone in the shadows. That’s why they needed him. He had converted his bitcoin into a million dollars now sitting in a Cayman Island’s account. It didn’t matter if he got the second million, the time to gamble was now.

  Suddenly a small alarm went off on his wrist watch and Panther sat up straight, on alert. He reached over to the side table and grabbed his pistol. He rolled off the bed and quickly put on his shoes. His stomach ached when he bent down to tie his shoe laces, but he gritted his teeth to bear the pain. Thereafter, he popped a couple painkillers from the bottle nearby then stood up.

  He had told those fools to always call ahead. Two rings, that was the signal that they were coming in. But they had always followed that. Something was wrong. Someone who didn’t belong here.

  Panther’s watch was connected to a motion sensor. Both devices he had been issued for his field operations, but he had not returned them since he had “lost” them in the field. A surveillance camera would have been better, but electronics was not amongst Panther’s skill sets. Besides the warehouse upstairs was dark, shadowy and filled with barrels, drums and forklifts which would have obscured most of the view. A motion sensor did the job better.

  The warehouse above him was two floors stuffed with abandoned equipment. He himself had chosen a small studio room that had been the residence of the night time janitor when it had been in operation. But it was a hidden location in the basement that was not easily accessible. Even his client had forgotten about this room—he had himself discovered it by reading the original construction blueprints. And he was glad he had done it, as no one could stumble upon this place as it was located behind the rusting boilers which concealed the door.

  Panther slowly opened the door and looked outside with his pistol held close. He walked around the boilers and then tiptoed to the stairs leading to the first floor. His mind rapidly flipped through the possibilities that could cause the motion sensor alarm to go off. An animal or a bird? No, he had closed all the doors and the windows.

  Not the client or the major or one of his boys, they knew where to find him.

  An intruder then!

  Clara stepped into the warehouse and cut a quick arc with her pistol. It was empty. She pushed the metallic door closed and she was glad that it did not creak or clank despite the rust spots betraying its old age. The door had been locked but easy to break with the pick she had.

  She let her eyes adjust. Some light came in through the windows but interspersed with shadows of tree trunks outside and the mass of barrels strewn about inside. She realized she didn’t have a plan. She hadn’t even endeavored to study the blueprint of the building, if it was even available at the town hall.

  And she couldn’t even be sure that he was actually here, that was just Frank’s theory. If Frank had been certain, he would have called in the Troopers and perhaps even a SWAT Team. Clara walked around the barrels, careful to avoid tripping over the metal objects on the floor. In the light from one of the windows, she spotted an open door leading to the stairs to the second floor. She began walking towards it.

  The next moment, she jumped back with a low whistle as she saw a silhouette twenty feet in front of her holding a pistol of his own. The second required to bring down her own arm holding the pistol felt a lifetime as her mind couldn’t wait for the bullets to fly out of the barrel and in that instant, fear of being slower to the trigger gripped her.

  Then she fired. One. Two. Three shots. She let out a breath of relief which
swiftly turned into a gasp of horror when her shots ricocheted off the wall and struck oil drums with metallic clangs. She had shot a mere shadow. And she had given away her location to the person who had cast it.

  She heard a laugher laced with the contempt of a master for a student who had acted in an attempt to best him only to fail and fall flat on her face. He had been her trainer.

  “Is that my favorite witch?” he jested, “I could always tell from that ponytail.” His voice was not too far from her back and a dread filled her body.

  She turned around as fast as she could, her hands shaking, with full knowledge that even as he laughed he would have his own gun aimed at her.

  Panther took two steps forward out of the window’s light when he saw Clara turn around. He leaned forward and whacked her gun away with a karate chop of his left hand to her wrist. He tossed his gun to his left hand and backslapped her across the face with his right palm. Clara stumbled back but steadied herself against an oil barrel even as she wiped the blood off her mouth.

  He raised his own pistol at her and smiled.

  “Clara, Clara,” Panther said and shook his head exaggeratedly as a grown adult would at a child caught doing mischief.

  “I hate you Travis,” Clara replied.

  “The feeling is not mutual. Indeed you did me a favor by showing up,” Panther chuckled, “you are the only eyewitness the boys at Langley have against me.”

  Clara knew that Panther was ruthless, that she wasn’t going to walk out of this one alive…unless Frank and Joe reached here in time. She couldn’t match Panther in fighting chops but she had always been great at mind games. She had to buy time. She had to keep him talking.

  “Those boys at Langley want to know why you would kill a trucker like Adam,” Clara said forcing herself with great willpower to speak calmly in the face of a gun pointed at her.

  Panther was startled a bit. What the hell? First the New Jersey State Police, now the CIA, did the whole damn world know? He wondered to himself.

  “What the hell do they care?” Panther said.

  Clara’s purpose had been served. She had roused his curiosity. He would want to know more. He would contemplate whether he should make an offer to her in exchange for information. As Panther pondered the matter, he let his pistol droop down away from her.

  “Where is the lady in the room #234?” Frank asked the proprietor of the hotel.

  “She checked out a while back,” the hotel owner replied looking up from his register.

  “Did she say where she was going?” Frank asked.

  “Nope, and we don’t inquire into our guests’ business,” the proprietor replied.

  “Do you mean Franny Kirk?” Dave the bartender asked walking over to the front counter from the hotel bar that was within the hearing distance.

  “Franny Kirk Aha Ha Ha Ha!” Joe let lose loud bouts of laughter and patted Frank on the shoulder.

  “You are a smart ass, huh?” Frank said to Dave.

  “Smart ass? No, not at all, but I am smart,” Dave replied, “just trying to help you, officers. I met Franny the other day.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Frank asked irritated, “I am asking about Clara Bridges.”

  “He is Frank Kirk,” Joe pointed to Frank and grinned.

  “She had a police card with that name,” Dave shrugged his shoulders.

  His card. Frank understood the matter.

  “What do you know?” Frank asked.

  “Nothing, just saw her walk out,” Dave replied.

  “Then why don’t you go back and drink yourself into a stupor?” Frank said annoyed, turned around and hurried out the door. Joe followed him laughing.

  “Franny!” Joe giggled, “Frank, you owe me a feast if you don’t want that to reach the headquarters.”

  “If we manage to find Clara before Panther does, I will throw a damn party,” Frank said as he jumped in the driver’s seat and Joe got into the passenger side.

  He turned on the lights but not the sirens as he accelerated onto the road and drove towards the warehouse.

  “You think she went after him?” Joe asked.

  “Almost certainly,” Frank said.

  The warehouse was not far from the hotel. A two lane road forked off from the main road to the refinery and led to the warehouse that was surrounded by the forest on three sides. The road had been left in the state of disrepair with potholes galore. Frank did not pull in the front parking lot but instead parked the car at the side of the road where trees obscured the view from the warehouse. Joe grabbed the shotgun while Frank took out his AR-15 from the trunk. He was not going to trade pistol shots with a crackshot like Panther. Frank was a good marksman himself; however, he knew in a straight shootout Panther would nail him. But not if Frank possessed superior firepower.

  “What’s the plan, Frank?” Joe asked, “Why don’t we call the locals?”

  “I am not even sure he is in there,” Frank replied, “I wanted to get a feel first, but it’s too late now. Clara might be in there. Joe you take cover of the trees and get to the front door. I will swing around to the back. Put your phone on vibrate. Call me when you have picked the lock. We will break in at the same time.”

  “Will do,” Joe replied. Frank and Joe rushed into the trees, keeping low, making sure they stayed hidden behind the tree barks and the bushes. When they reached the corner of the warehouse, Joe turned left, stooped below the window ledges and trotted to the front door. Frank picked up speed and ran towards the back. He turned around after reaching the corner, saw no windows and sprinted to the back door. He took out a lockpick from his pocket when his phone vibrated.

  “You ready, Joe?” Frank asked.

  “Front lock is broken, I am ready to storm in,” Joe replied.

  Frank felt grave apprehension after hearing this. Clara must have gone in already.

  “No storming, Joe. We enter quietly,” Frank replied, “give me a couple of minutes,” he said then dropped his phone in his pocket while still on call. Clara may not have two minutes, he thought as he worked rapidly to pick the lock. He heard a click, grabbed the door handle and gave it a gentle pull.

  “I am ready, Joe. Count till five, then we both go in,” Frank said. He barely had time to put his lockpick back in his pocket and steady his rifle.

  “Tell me what they know down in Washington and I will make it painless for you,” Panther demanded angrily.

  Clara curled her lip and rolled her eyes at the threat.

  “Make me a better offer,” she retorted.

  “Don’t tempt me, witch,” Panther said raising his pistol and taking aim squarely at her.

  The front door behind him slammed open. Panther jumped on the spot but before he could turn, he saw a man from the corner of his eye with what looked like a shotgun. The shotgun that was aimed at his back the next moment.

  “Drop that gun, boy, and drop it now,” Joe said.

  Simultaneously, Frank had entered but he had been careful to not make noise. He aimed his rifle straight ahead at the crowd near the front door while he made his way keeping close to the barrels for cover.

  “Take it easy, officer,” Panther replied, “I am not…”

  “Shut up. Let me see them hands,” Joe barked, “the hands! The hands! I want your hands up in the air or I swear I will blow a hole bigger than the moon in your head.”

  Panther dropped his pistol to his feet, raised his hands over his head and turned around to face Joe. It was the foolish, fat cop, Panther thought, where is his tough as nails partner?

  Then Panther saw Frank who had reached halfway there. Panther knew he had to act soon. He couldn’t fight the three of them alone. His window of opportunity closed in five seconds.

  “Good timing, Joe,” Clara replied. She looked around for her pistol but it was lost somewhere in the shadows. She dare not reach to Panther’s feet to pick up his pistol. She knew if she got that close to him, he would attempt to grab her as a hostage.

 
; “Clara, handcuff that boy for me,” Joe said. He let his left hand go from the shotgun and took out the handcuffs from his back pocket.

  “Joe NO! Wait!” Frank yelled.

  Both Frank and Panther had sensed Joe’s tactical mistake. They both knew Joe couldn’t fire accurately with one hand, not with Clara right behind, and wouldn’t be able to handle the recoil even if he did.

  Panther acted. He ducked and dived to the side then he charged forward. Joe’s eyes bugged out as he tried to swing around the heavy shotgun. Panther kicked the shotgun out of Joe’s hand and it went flying back over his head. Clara darted to pick up Panther’s gun but Panther jumped back then back kicked her in the stomach. Clara fell back holding her stomach and yelling in pain. Joe rushed forward at Panther but received a side kick to his face and saw stars all around his eyes.

  Frank could not fire for fear of hitting Joe or Clara. He let his rifle sling from his shoulder and sprinted forward. Panther turned around and darted at him in turn. Panther kneed Frank in the chest just as Frank punched Panther in the face. They both stumbled backwards a few feet. Frank reached for his sidearm but Panther had recovered quickly from the blow and was close again. He tried to sidekick Frank once with his left leg and once with his right. But Frank had seen that kicking was Panther’s strong suit and was ready. He jumped back to avoid the first kick. The second time when Panther tried to kick him across the face with his right leg, Frank actually turned his shoulders, stepped forward towards the kick and took the blow from Panther’s shin on his right forearm.

  The pain was intense and Frank let out a scream even as he reached for willpower to execute the counter strike.

  He instantly turned the other way, brought his left forearm with his fist curled into the backside of Panther’s knee just as he pushed forward with his right forearm into Panther’s ankle and then crossed his arms to snap Panther’s foot.

  A searing pain shot up in the right leg of Panther who yelled, jumped and twisted around in the air to straighten out the cramps in his foot and fell on the floor with his palms on the ground.