Wolf Trap (Casey Reddick Book 1)

by Charles DeMaris

  “You heard from your friend, Ken? Everything okay with him?”

  “He called from Canada. They should be at the lake by morning if all goes well.”

  Keith Ingram came back from the concession stand with his hands full.

  “Here you go buddy,” he said as he handed a tray to his partner, Mark Williams, “one Buddhist hot dog and a Coke.”

  “Buddhist hot dog?”

  “Yeah, one with everything.”

  “Ha ha. I’ll have to remember that one.”

  “Great game tonight.”

  “Yeah, fifteen- point lead with a couple minutes left. I like our chances.”

  “Good chance to go all the way this year. Best team we’ve had in a long time.”

  “Say, you seen Stewart? He always picks up these shifts.”

  “Saw him in the service area before the game. Had deliveries coming in.”

  “Should have locked up back there before now.”

  “Who’s his partner, Mullins?”

  “Think so, but Mullins didn’t take the shift tonight. Daughter had a recital.”

  Keith looked around the arena and didn’t see Stewart anywhere.

  “I don’t like this,” he said.

  “Could be in the john.”

  “For the whole game? We should check with the other guys.”

  He checked with the other officers present and nobody had seen Stewart since before the game.

  “I don’t like this. I’m gonna go back and check on him. You with me?”

  “Sure.”

  Keith radioed the other officers that they were heading to the service area to check on Stewart. As they got into the back hallways a cheer rose up from the crowd, indicating the end of the game. They walked by the dock doors and everything was locked up, by the kitchen and the cook was just returning after having laid out the food in the locker rooms.

  “You seen Officer Stewart?” Keith asked the cook.

  “He was back here before the game. Haven’t seen him in a while. Figured he was out with you guys.”

  “Never showed up. He’s gotta be back here somewhere.”

  “Last I saw him he was heading toward the mechanical room.”

  “Okay, we’ll check there.”

  They went toward the mechanical room and the first thing Keith saw was Hassan lying dead next to the canisters and a second later he saw Stewart sitting against the wall. He got on the radio immediately.

  “Officer down, mechanical control room. It’s Stewart.”

  “What the hell happened here?” Mark asked.

  “What are those canisters next to the other guy?”

  Mark took one look at the canisters and the nearby air intake and shuddered.

  “Figure it’s gas. He was gonna release it in the ventilation system and Stewart stopped him.”

  “If he hadn’t…”

  “Yeah, poison gas circulating through the whole arena…”

  “Oh man, Stewart had a kid, didn’t he?”

  “Son, about twelve, I think. Came by the station a couple times.”

  “This sucks. What we gonna tell his kid?”

  “His dad died a hero.”

  “Yeah…would have been worse than 9/11. Dude’s a hero alright.”

  Casey picked up a rental car and plugged Prescott’s address into the navigation system, only about fifteen minutes away down in Alexandria. He synced his phone with the car, selected Darius Rucker, and turned the volume to a level his mother would not approve of. Fifteen minutes later he turned onto W. Walnut St. in Alexandria and located Prescott’s house. There was a light on downstairs and a car in the driveway. He drove past the house, turned around on Russell St., and drove back down Walnut and parked on the street near Commonwealth.

  He tried to call Prescott’s cell twice but got voicemail both times, so he walked toward the house. When he got to the driveway, he put his hand on the hood of the car and noted that the engine was still warm. They hadn’t been home that long. Why wasn’t Prescott answering his phone? Casey thought about ringing the doorbell, but decided against that, and headed to the back door of the house. He could hear the television from the living room, turned up quite loud.

  He came around to the back door of the house and tried the door, unlocked. Weird. He eased the door open and poked his head in.

  “Mr. Prescott, you home?”

  No answer. Maybe the TV was too loud. He walked in the back door and through the kitchen toward the living room. Doug Prescott was sitting in a recliner facing the television where a late- night talk show was playing. The remote control was still in his hand, but the hole in the back of his head and the splatter of blood told Casey all he needed to know.

  Casey drew his weapon and walked slowly around the living room. Prescott had never seen it coming. He checked the rest of the downstairs level, all clear. He crept up the stairs, taking his time and trying not to make a sound. He was halfway up the stairs when he heard it. A faint footstep. He continued up, gun drawn and held out in front of him. There it was again. Someone was walking around upstairs. It could be Mrs. Prescott, but he doubted it. These were the footsteps of someone trying to be silent. He crept farther up the steps, conscious of any sounds he might make as well.

  Two steps to go and he heard the creak of a door opening. He flattened himself against the wall and saw a man dressed head to toe in black with a balaclava over his head coming out of the bathroom. The man was creeping down the hall toward a bedroom, holding a drawn pistol out in front of him. Another floorboard creaked as the man took a step.

  “Daddy, is that you?” a voice said from the bedroom ahead.

  ‘Prescott’s got a daughter,’ Casey thought to himself, ‘and the killer’s headed right for her room.’

  The man turned a corner in the hallway. Casey didn’t have a clean shot unless he went up the steps. He took the remaining two steps, pistol drawn and ready, and the man whirled around, having heard his footsteps on the stairs. Casey saw the man begin his turn and ducked into the bathroom just as a bullet tore a chunk out of the wall where his head had been. Mrs. Prescott was still in the tub, staring blankly at the ceiling while the blood from the hole in her forehead turned the bath water red. Two more muffled spits and two more holes appeared in the bathroom door. This was not a safe place to remain. Casey looked through the gap between the door and the wall and could see the man approaching cautiously down the hall. He placed his suppressor at the gap and fired.

  The man in the hallway grunted as the round tore into his shoulder and Casey opened the door, prepared to charge him. He wanted to take this guy alive and see what he knew. The man was only a few feet away and was still trying to bring his left hand up to fire. He could be on him in a couple strides and…bang!

  The shot was not suppressed. The pistol dropped from the man’s hand and he took one staggered step toward Casey before toppling over.

  “Hold it right there. Don’t you take one more step,” Rachel Prescott said, still holding the revolver in both hands.

  Casey dropped his pistol and held up his hands.

  “Don’t shoot lady, I’m a good guy.”

  “Keep your hands where I can see ‘em. How do I know you’re a good guy?”

  “Do you think he was?”

  “No.”

  “He was trying to kill me and I was trying to keep him from killing you.”

  “How did you know he was here?”

  “Your dad asked for my help. He thought he was in danger. I got here too late.”

  “Dad’s…this guy…”

  “Yeah, I’m afraid so.”

  “And Mom…”

  “I’m sorry…”

  Rachel took a couple steps closer.

  “You want to put the gun down, lady? I’m on your side.”

  She put the pistol down and came closer to the bathroom.

  “You might not want to go in there,” Casey said.

  “Mom’s in there.”

  “It’s too late
.”

  She walked in the bathroom and came out sobbing. She sank to the floor and wept while Casey turned his attention to the dead killer. He rolled him over and searched him. Nothing. He pulled the balaclava from his head. The same as the others, white guy with a crew cut. He snapped a couple photos and forwarded them to Jenny with an update. He looked at Rachel, wondering how much time to give her to grieve. They needed to get out of there. She appeared to be about his age, brunette, fit athletic build, not bad looking. He couldn’t imagine what she was going through. He let her sob for another minute.

  “Uh…lady…we need to get out of here.”

  No response. He touched her on the shoulder.

  “We need to get going. There could be more. These guys don’t operate alone.”

  “How…how do you…know that?”

  “Long story, let’s go.”

  She stood up and looked around.

  “Like this?” she said, pointing to her night shirt.

  “Take a minute to pack a bag, but hurry.”

  She disappeared into the bedroom and came back a minute later wearing a pair of jeans and a t shirt and carrying a purse.

  “Okay, I’m ready.”

  “Is that your gun?”

  “It’s Daddy’s.”

  “Take it. You know how to use it.”

  She put the safety on and stuck the pistol in her purse. Casey retrieved his and they started down the stairs. Halfway down and Casey held up his hand and put a finger to his lips. The back door had opened and someone was in the kitchen. Seconds later they saw another black clad figure emerge from the kitchen with a pistol drawn.

  “Boris?” the man said, followed by something in a language neither understood.

  They were in a bad spot. If the man turned to face the stairs, he would see them. He didn’t turn. He instead walked into the living room and stopped by Doug Prescott’s body. Casey moved quietly down the stairs, followed by Rachel. The man still had his back to them. They might be able to slip out. Rachel took one look to her left and saw her father’s body with the hole in his head and let out a gasp. Casey heard her, and the man heard her. He spun around with his gun drawn and Casey was ready, putting two rounds into his chest. The man only staggered slightly but didn’t go down. ‘He’s got a vest,’ Casey thought to himself. The man raised his weapon again and this time Rachel dropped him with two rounds to the forehead.

  “Man girl, you’re fast,” Casey said, inwardly shuddering at the icy look in her eyes.

  “Lot of time at the range with Dad.”

  “That’s two of them. We need to get moving.”

  “We’re just going to leave them like this?”

  “No choice. There could be more.”

  “Who are these guys?”

  “I have no idea,” Casey said as he photographed the man and sent the photo to Jenny.

  Rachel took one last look at her father’s body and they went out the back door. They stuck to the back yards and made their way to the end of the street where Casey’s rental car was parked. They got in the car and drove a few blocks before Casey pulled off and called 911 and reported hearing gunshots at the Prescott house.

  “I’m Rachel, by the way.”

  “Nice to meet you. Wish it was under better circumstances. My name’s…”

  “Casey Reddick.”

  “You recognized me?”

  “Just now. Thought you looked familiar, just clicked. Dad was a big football fan. Saw you on TV a few times.”

  “Lot’s happened since then.”

  “I can see that. So, where we going?”

  “We need to get someplace safe, but I’m wiped out. No way I can manage an eight-hour drive right now.”

  “We can’t fly?”

  “Don’t know if your ID is flagged. They could track you.”

  “Who’s they?”

  “Not sure.”

  “How far is this safe place?”

  “Ohio, about 500 miles.”

  “I can drive part of it.”

  “You awake enough?”

  “I slept half the day.”

  “You sure you’re up to it? After what you’ve been through…”

  “I need to clear my head.”

  “I’ll start out. If I get tired, I’ll let you know.”

  Casey stopped for a Coke and got on the highway, listening to the rhythmic hum of the tires on the pavement, and Rachel’s muffled sobs from the passenger seat.

  20

  Jenny received the photos and the update from Casey. She ran the photos through facial recognition and had the results a few minutes later.

  “Two more Russians?” Ahmed asked.

  “Appears to be the case,” Jenny said.

  “What news from Casey?”

  “He's on the way here, driving. Prescott and his wife were dead when he got there, but he got their daughter out alive. They should be here by morning.”

  “Why not fly?”

  “He wasn’t sure if the daughter would be flagged.”

  “Good thinking.”

  “Listen, you and Miriam ought to go home and get some rest. You can come back in the morning.”

  “I’ll just hit the bunk. I brought some extra clothes.”

  “I’ll see you in the morning then,” Miriam said.

  “Well, Ahmed, I’m going to go home before Earl forgets who I am. I’ll see you bright and early.”

  Rachel took over driving two hours later when Casey couldn’t go any longer, but woke him up in Morgantown when she found she wasn’t up to driving. Casey would have liked more time to sleep, but it was better than nothing.

  “This is as far as I can go. Got a little sleepy,” she said.

  “I appreciate it. I think I can manage the rest of the way.”

  “So how does a quarterback end up playing James Bond, or whatever you were doing back there?”

  “Long story.”

  “You doing anything else for the next few hours?”

  “Guess not. You’re not sleeping?”

  “Not sure I want to right now.”

  “Yeah, not sure I would either. Just lost my sister the other day. Still see her in my dreams.”

  “What happened?”

  “The bus station. She was there when the bomb went off.”

  “Oh my…my dad…he was fired over that.”

  “Yeah, we warned him the day before.”

  “That was you?”

  “Well, my boss actually. You’ll meet her in a few hours.”

  “So that’s the safe place?”

  “Can’t think of anyplace safer.”

  “That whole thing doesn’t make sense. Dad got your warning and believed it. Said the FBI director believed him and told him he’d take care of it.”

  “The FBI director told him he’d take care of it?”

  “Yeah, that’s what he told me and Mom. Called the guy up when he got your message.”

  “So, the FBI dropped the ball and your dad took the fall?”

  “Dad copied agency people as well. Nobody acted. Lot of blame to go around on that one.”

  “Did your dad always talk about his work?”

  “Not before he got fired, but after…”

  “If you don’t want to talk about it…”

  “That’s okay. I think I need to. So, about you. How’d you end up working for this…what is it you do?”

  “It’s kind of a private intelligence group. Jenny, she’s the boss lady, she wanted to just gather intel and turn it over. Thought the Feds would act on it. She’s got me and a couple other folks our age working there. Got a killer computer system that can spy on anyone. Pretty cool place to work really.”

  “So, it’s a bunch of geeks hacking everything in sight to try to find threats?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “But now you’re running around with a gun playing field agent.”

  “After the bombing we decided we needed people in the field to act on things. Not gonna get bu
rned again.”

  “Don’t blame you. I probably would have done the same thing.”

  “You’re in the same boat as I am. What do you want to do?”

  “I want to get the bastards that killed my parents.”

  “You got a good start. You got the guy who did it.”

  “They were just hired guns. Somebody else is behind it.”

  “I think it’s the same guys I’ve been dealing with the last few days.”

  “They’re after other people?”

  “At least one guy. They dress the same and they’re all military- looking white guys. I send the pictures to Jenny and she checks them against databases. All former military from all over the world. Found Russians, Brits, a couple Americans.”

  “Who else are they trying to kill?”

  “The Pakistani defense minister.”

  “That guy went missing the other day, didn’t he?”

  “Well, kinda, but I have a good idea where he is.”

  “You have a lead on where he is?”

  “Not a lead, we have him.”

  “Come again.”

  “Don’t ask me how we got all this info. The day he went missing, we found a payment to an offshore bank account. The dude had another identity and decided to disappear. We tracked him to Kenya, port city called Mombasa. Nice beaches. If you’re gonna disappear, that’s the place. It’s all guessing, but what would the Pakistani defense minister have access to that someone would be willing to pay him fifty million dollars for?”

  “Pakistan has nukes…oh my God…you don’t think he sold a nuke, do you?”

  “That’s a possibility we have to consider. Some cartel in Mexico has been talking about a big shipment over the border happening shortly. The two might not be connected, but if they are…”

  “Dad talked about something like that a couple years ago. Some ISIS guy said that’s how they’d do it. Sneak it over the border from Mexico. If they got a nuke, getting it into the U.S. wouldn’t be that hard.”

  “Yeah, that’s what we’re thinking. We need to have a talk with this guy and we didn’t know if we could trust anyone at the CIA with the intel after what happened the last time.”

  “So, you went over to Kenya to nab the guy?”

  “That was the plan, and it would have worked too. We had him drunk in his hotel room, but these other guys showed up to try to kill him. I had a local guy helping me out and we killed the attackers. Ansari got wounded, but we patched him up and drove out of town. Met up with another guy in Nairobi and got attacked again on the highway heading out of town. Three more guys dressed the same, same kind of weapons.”