Shattered Order: A Psychological Crime Thriller (Shattered Survival Thrillers Book 3)

by S. J. Braden

  “Over here. What are you doing back here?”

  Court looked up to see Pierce carrying a day box.

  “Brought you this. We figured out you found something between telling us to take a head count and someone else coming back with Jake.”

  “Thanks. I was hoping someone would figure it out.”

  “Frankie caught it right away and sent me.”

  Court carefully pulled the back off the cell phone and then cracked open the case. The phone was still functional and didn’t contain any explosive material. It was just the trigger. He then turned his attention to the laptop. From the outside, it looked perfectly normal. Court was quite sure it looked pretty normal going through the security checkpoint and x-ray as well. First, he opened the screen and examined the laptop. The screen, the keyboard, and the case looked normal. He needed to look underneath. That’s where the case screws were, but also where a pressure switch might be. He told Tom and Pierce to move back, in fact, to leave the area completely. If there was a pressure switch and he lifted the laptop, it could blow. He looked all around the base of the computer and under the edges with the flashlight. The computer appeared to be flat on the ground and sat level indicating there shouldn’t be anything underneath, but one never knew. He gently lifted the edge of the laptop and continued to peer underneath. Once he was sure there was nothing underneath, he turned the computer over and began removing the case screws. When he finally got the case open, he found the interior was lined with C4 and most of the computer circuit boards were still inside so a security scan of the computer would not be suspiciously empty. He disarmed the wiring to the phone and found there was no other switch to detonate the explosive. They were lucky. They found it and disarmed it without anyone getting hurt.

  Once everything was in the day box for further evidence collection and disposal, Court used his cell phone to call Frankie and Tommy. He told them each he would announce the bomb was neutralized and they needed to watch everyone around them, and all surveillance cameras to see if anyone reacted suspiciously to the news. He would wait five minutes to make the announcement so everyone could be on alert.

  In the meantime, the exterior of the airport, all vehicles in short and long term parking, and all checked luggage were cleared of any explosives. This ordeal was almost over. But Court’s frustration was only growing. He knew there was no way this cat and mouse chase would lead him to Colleen. Each one was an opportunity to gain more evidence as to who held her captive. He didn’t believe anything was really pointing to her location. So far, there hadn’t been any clues as to who was responsible for any of this, except the signature of the bombs that pointed to the Artist. Court also knew, the Artist is not the one who kidnapped Colleen. He had no reason to. He was simply paid to construct the explosives. But if they could find him, maybe they could intercept the buyer. He took a deep breath and hoped for a reaction.

  “Explosives in Terminal B are neutralized. Issuing an all-clear. The airport may re-open. Repeating, all danger is neutralized.”

  As the crowd of people who were previously evacuated began to make their way back toward the airport entrance to resume their travels, one man attempted to make a phone call. When no one answered, he hailed a taxi and left the scene. Anyone who saw him assumed the excitement was just too much for him and he canceled his trip. But the taxi driver overheard him say, “This isn’t over yet, McAllister.”

  Chapter 37

  The information officer for the Memphis Police Department called a press meeting. Members of broadcast and print media were included, but no recording devices or cameras were allowed. As the members of the press gathered at the appointed meeting place they talked among themselves about the unprecedented stipulations of the meeting. No one could ever recall a press briefing with no recording devices. At precisely two p.m. they learned why.

  A group of men and women filed into the room and stood at the front ready to address the members of the press. Among them, members of the MPD, ATF, and the FBI. They learned four of the FBI agents were part of the Behavioral Analysis Unit.

  “Good afternoon and thank you all for coming. I’m Chase Whitley, the information officer with the MPD. We know this is a highly irregular meeting, but it’s also an unprecedented situation. Most of you follow police scanners and know what’s going on in the city the same time law enforcement does. This time, we believe the press is actually influencing what’s happening in the city. We are not here to hide anything, but we believe that the media can provide some assistance and if the situation is not handled correctly could make things much worse. There are multiple incidents occurring in the city involving explosive devices. With the help of the FBI and the ATF, we have determined there are at least two different suspects or groups of suspects. Dave Dupree with the ATF will brief you on the incidents, then Charles Harrington of the FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit will elaborate on our suspects and how the media can help.”

  “Hello, I’m Dave Dupree. We became involved in this investigation following the explosion at the International Music Festival. After our involvement we learned there were some incidents involving explosives and devices that were not reported to the local police. In the last forty-eight hours there have been several more incidents. It is apparent there are two different activities going on in the city. One series of explosives is similar in design and officials are alerted to the existence of the bombs in a certain manner. The other series is much different in design and there is either no early notification or the notification manner has differed from the first series. So far, known issues have occurred at a privately owned yacht at the yacht club, the Crowne Plaza Hotel, the Peabody hotel, The Children’s Museum, Graceland, the Music Festival and the airport. Advanced warning for all of these locations leads investigators to believe they are part of the ongoing investigation into the kidnapping of a U.S. Attorney. Different explosives used in a warehouse and private residence of suspected gang members are believed to be gang activity. There was no advanced warning regarding those two incidents. The third incident today, regarding two bombs found and neutralized at the Wolfchase mall don’t fit either M.O. The FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit guys will explain more about that as well as why we need your assistance in only reporting what we release to you.”

  “Good Afternoon, I’m Charles Harrington, with the FBI BAU. Thank you for coming today, and thank you for your cooperation in this situation. The BAU often uses the media to help identify and locate suspects. This time, we know that one of the suspects is watching local news broadcasts. This would be the suspect from the warehouse and home explosions. As you know, those explosions were from easy, simple pipe bombs and Molotov cocktails. We believe this particular suspect is also responsible for the bombs at the mall today. We believe he changed his MO and explosive type after the word simplified was broadcast describing the home and warehouse explosives in contrast to the Music Festival explosion. The suspect interpreted that report as a challenge or a taunt that he is inferior. That’s why we called this meeting. It is critical that everything reported not cause this suspect to continue to escalate. We will be issuing news briefs for you to use, and ask that you only use the released wording. We will not take any questions now, as it could lead to information leaking we are not ready to release yet. We have prepared news statements regarding all the incidents with the details we are ready to release at this time. Please do not report information as it is broadcast over the police scanner or any other confidential reports. Thank you for your cooperation.”

  Court wasn’t himself. Days of stress and worry were taking a toll. Frankie noticed that as Court walked to the safe, his hands were tightly balled into fists, his gait was choppy, his eyes darted to and fro and his whole head from his neck to his ears to his forehead were flaming red as if from a tropical sunburn. Frankie also knew what was going to happen next in this investigation and feared that Court’s reactionary explosion would overshadow any amount of C4 and Urea Nitrate. Frankie pulled Trent aside to prepar
e him.

  “Trent, I need to ask you something over here, please.”

  “Yeah, what’s up?”

  “Look, things are about to get real bad. Court is on the precipice between sanity and desperation. We are about to get kicked out of this case now. Help me keep an eye on Court. I don’t know him well enough to know how he is going to react. You know him the best and for the longest. He’s going to need you.”

  “Really? How can they kick him off of the case? He’s the one the kidnapper is communicating with, who the kidnappers expect to respond.”

  “They will handle it like every other kidnapping case. Court’s expertise is what has let the kidnappers get this far, but it’s all going to stop now that the feds and locals are involved. Even if he was still on the force, they wouldn’t allow him to work the case. It’s just a bad idea and against all protocols.”

  And then they heard it. They all heard it.

  Chapter 38

  “What? Are you crazy? What the hell do you mean I can’t work the case? Just hide and watch! You can’t stop me!”

  “Court, you were in law enforcement long enough to know this is the way it works. I’m sorry, I know it’s hard, I know how much you love Colleen and I do too. But we can stop you and you know it. Isabel and I will be with you every minute. When we get the next contact, we have to sit on it. Me too. We have to make the best of it.”

  “Make the best of it? What best? What in the name of all that is holy is good about this situation? I’ll tell you what. Not one blasted thing. My girl has a bomb around her neck, the city is coming apart like a zipper with no pull, and you want me to sit on my damned ass and do nothing.”

  “I’m not asking you to do nothing. Isabel and I and your friends Trent, Frankie and Pierce are going to your house and wait for the next contact. And we are all going to try to brainstorm anything that will help the folks in the field to solve this.”

  “What makes you think there will even be another contact? The last contact was Colleen and the damn line went dead after she said I was told not to call the cops. I didn’t call the cops, dammit. Some psycho pyromaniac blew up a freaking bomb in a park full of people and he thinks the cops won’t show up? We are dealing with someone who is unhinged at best or been living with wolves his whole life at worst. I don’t even know if Colleen is still alive!”

  And that’s when Court crumbled. Literally crumpled on the floor, his fists pounding the tile, tears running down his face and his breath ragged as deep guttural moans escaped his throat. It took Tommy and Pierce to lift him from the floor and guide him to the passenger side of his truck, as Trent got in the driver’s seat and started the engine. The process was only made harder by Jake, who was determined to soothe his owner and Frankie swore he saw tears escaping the big lab’s eyes too.

  Thankfully when the tall man wearing the Jay Leno mask barged into the room, Colleen had not seen him in two days. He was angry. She heard his footsteps from further away than normal as he stomped toward the large empty restaurant space. He yelled as he entered the room, “What kind of dumb fuck is your husband?”

  Colleen was holding her breath, waiting for the man to notice her moved position, closer to the bar, and the broken mirror tiles in the floor. But he was much too self-absorbed to notice anything, and the lady had been coming for the last two days, so this man didn’t know Colleen was moving closer to the shards of glass.

  Tall man pulled out his phone and dialed a number, and then held the phone to Colleen’s face.

  “When he answers, tell him this is his last chance to save you.”

  Colleen did as he said and then he jerked the phone back. “I’ve had enough of you. I’m organizing one spectacular affair. You ain’t seen fireworks yet. I hope you and all those cops are ready. You’ll hear from me soon.”

  And the line went dead again. Court didn’t mutter a single word through the entire call. There really wasn’t time, but when he heard Colleen’s voice and knew she was still alive, he was stunned into silence. Thanks to Tommy who had a tap on the phone, the call was recorded and everyone heard it. But it was going to be yet another waiting game.

  Tall man then did something he had not done before. He made two business calls in front of Colleen.

  The first call was short. “Expedite delivery. I need the next three tomorrow.”

  The second one was longer and seemed to frustrate the man even further. He was already pacing the large room when he said, “We need to meet,” and then he listened.

  “No, we have to meet today! Meet me at the usual place in one hour,” and after a pause, “Okay fine. First thing in the morning then,” as he threw another phone across the room, hitting a window and shattering the phone, but not the window glass. Then he stormed out and left. Colleen knew her time was short and she needed to get out and get word to Court.

  Sunday was a long and frustrating day for the men and Isabel at the McAllister home. Tommy grilled and asked questions. The same questions Court, Pierce, Trent, and Frankie had been asking for days. While it was a long and frustrating day at the house, waiting for the kidnapper to call back and the phone never rang, it was a productive day for law enforcement. The FBI lab gathered enough evidence from the mall bombs to isolate a suspect. ATF and MPD officers arrested Yancy Goldman for the bombings of the warehouse, house, and mall.

  “At least that eliminates some of the chaos going on around town and spreading out the forces,” said Frankie.

  “Someday I will hate myself for saying this. But today is not that day. I wish there were more bombs, so they would have to let me work the case. Do you guys really expect me to sit here in this house and do nothing? Trent and Tommy you guys have known Colleen and me for a long time. How are we supposed to just sit here and not know where she is or what’s happening to her?”

  Chapter 39

  In an abandoned restaurant overlooking the city, Colleen grappled with how to make it all work. She had a fork up her sleeve, but she couldn’t get the angle right to use the prongs to loosen the knot that bound her wrist to the chair. It wasn’t long enough to reach the rope around her ankle. There was a perfect looking shard of the mirror only two feet away. But her tied wrist wouldn’t let her reach it on the floor. Even if she could pick it up off the floor with her toes there was no way to reach it with her hand. The rope was thin and loosely twisted. She was sure if she could get the shard into her hand she could cut the rope. Then her escape would be easy. If the rope proved to be more difficult to cut than she imagined, once her hand was free she could use the fork to loosen the knots at her ankles.

  Well, there it is. There’s no other way. It’s time to bite the bullet and try this old girl. I just need to get a little closer, and then I’m going to have to turn myself over. I just need to line up like this so that when I fall I can grasp the glass with my hand. It’s not going to be easy, but I’m sure I can do this. I just hope like hell this bomb around my neck doesn’t go off. I’m tired of the heavy thing being there.

  She held her breath and her muscles tensed, bracing for the impact and she began to rock her body from side to side as much as the restraints would allow her. She was careful to sway further and with more force to the right than the left so she wouldn’t fall the wrong direction and away from her goal. She didn’t know for sure since she hadn’t ever done it, but she was pretty certain it was going to be even harder to move once she was on her side. It only took four tries before her chair tumbled to the right and a split second before she was on her right side. She remained as rigid and tense as she could and tried to hold her neck and thus the bomb as stable as possible in the fall. She blinked and sucked in a gallon of air, filling her lungs as her body relaxed slightly. It hurt, there was no doubt about that, she would be lovely shades of blue and purple for days to come. But with only a little bit of wiggling, she managed to grasp the shard she was after in her hand.

  She felt the blood from the cut on her index finger she sustained while trying to grasp the shard,
but she didn’t care. Carefully she began working the pointy apex she watched for hours from across the room under the two layers of rope circling her wrist and began the flexing and release of her wrist that resulted in a sawing motion on the ropes. It seemed like hours, but Colleen knew it wasn’t that long and the rope gave way. Her hand and arm were now free, except her body weight was resting on that same shoulder. She knew her time was limited so she pushed on through the pain and wiggled the fork from inside the sleeve of her suit jacket. Once she had the fork by the handle she used it to pry the knot loose around her right ankle. She couldn’t decide which method was faster, or easier. Both the shard and the fork were hard to do, frustrating and tedious and slow. But she decided she would do less collateral harm to her body with the fork than the broken mirror.

  Her one hand was now free and her right ankle was untied. But she still was laying on her right side. Her hand wouldn’t reach the left ankle with the limited movement laying on her shoulder allowed. She spent about fifteen minutes trying to use her right leg and foot, which were also supporting her weight to right herself. Then she threw the fork as tears slid down her cheek.

  There’s no way I’ve come this far to fail. I can’t believe two of three limbs are free and yet I still can’t free myself. I would think this would be one time only having three limbs would be a blessing.

  She began swaying her weight again trying to turn the chair and herself onto their backs. Each time she would try a little harder. This was a lot harder than falling over that’s for sure. It took quite a bit more time, but she finally rolled herself and the chair onto the chair back. She tried to reach the rope on her left ankle but she still couldn’t reach it. She needed to be able to bend at the waist and this position wouldn’t let her bend that far, she needed the advantage of gravity. But now her right leg was free and she swung it to try to rotate herself and this stubborn chair one more time onto her left side. The third ferocious kick did it, and then she reached down and untied her final ankle.