37: A Thomas Ironcutter Novel

by David Achord

  “That’d be correct,” Agent Delmonico answered.

  Her partner gave her a brief, rebuking look, which she ignored. She set her pen down and placed her elbows on the table, making a steeple with her fingers and straining her blouse even further.

  “The evidence indicates Agent Stainback put up a fight,” she said.

  “Would it be possible for you to be more specific?” I asked. The two agents glanced at each other. Pike whispered into Delmonico’s ear and she whispered back.

  “Look you two, stop dancing around and let’s get down to it. Otherwise, let’s end this interview and I’ll get my car and get the hell out of here.” The two of them glanced at each other again before Agent Pike gave his partner a subtle nod.

  “Alright,” Agent Delmonico said. “Agent Stainback and I were in the academy together. I happen to know she is in excellent shape and is an avid kickboxer. When she was found, she had heavy abrasions to her knuckles. We are certain she put up a hell of a fight.”

  “What about her duty weapon?” I asked. Delmonico slowly shook her head.

  “It has not been recovered,” she said.

  I nodded slowly. “Okay, so, the current speculation is she somehow lost control of her duty weapon, but she fought back against her assailant, or assailants.”

  “That is the theory,” Agent Pike said.

  “And you believe her attacker may have sustained injuries,” I surmised. The two of them did not answer, merely stared.

  I gestured toward my face. “Alright, I don’t know what you two see, but when I shaved this morning, I didn’t notice any injuries to this handsome mug.”

  “Point taken,” she said. “But perhaps you have injuries that are covered by your clothing. You would not object to us having a look, would you?”

  She had a hint of a tantalizing smirk. I glanced over at Pike, who stared back stoically. I thought it over. I’d always kept in shape, and after that near-death experience with the overgrown rogue cop, I’d been working out on a regular basis. So, I had a decent physique for my age, if I do say so myself, and it was no cause for embarrassment. I stood, pulled off my shirt, and then dropped my pants.

  I stood before the two of them bare-chested and my pants at my ankles. Thankfully, I had put on a clean pair of boxer briefs this morning.

  “No injuries,” I proclaimed and held my hands out at shoulder level. I might’ve even sucked my gut in and flexed a little.

  The two of them sat there in silence a moment before Agent Delmonico stood and walked around the table. She stopped when she was within inches of me and slowly looked me over. Before I knew it, she reached behind me, grabbed the elastic waistband of my underwear, and pulled it out. She then proceeded to give my ass a rather close inspection. After a moment, she let go, causing the elastic band to pop against my skin.

  “There’s not a mark on him,” she said to her partner. She then leaned in close and whispered in my ear, “Not bad, but you’ve got a hairy ass.”

  I shrugged. She was right, I did in fact have a hairy ass. Blame it on my Italian heritage. I wasn’t embarrassed, never have been. The only thing I was currently worried about was the little soldier. I doubt she was aware, but her up close and personal inspection had awakened him. I hurriedly pulled my pants up before either of them noticed. Once I was clothed again, I tried to put on a nonchalant air as I sat back down and scooted my chair close to the table.

  “Well, thank you for your transparency,” Agent Pike said. “My only other question would be to ask you for an alibi for the hours of ten last night until four in the morning.”

  “I was home. I went to bed at approximately eleven. I have a roommate who was home as well. She can vouch for me, if you feel it is necessary.”

  “Female roommate?” Agent Delmonico asked with an arched eyebrow.

  “Roommates only,” I said. “She has her own bedroom.” I turned back to Agent Pike. “Her name is Anna Davies. If you want her number, I’ll have to look it up on my phone.”

  He nodded and waited while I pulled out my phone and scrolled down to Anna’s contact information. I once again made a mental note to memorize her number in case something like Memphis happened again.

  While Agent Pike jotted down the information, I glanced over at Delmonico. She was staring at me plainly, but there was a hint of something in her eyes, or maybe I was imagining things. Agent Pike got my attention by clearing his throat.

  “If you two will excuse me a moment, I’ll go make the call.” He stood and left the room. I turned back to Agent Delmonico.

  “Alone at last,” I said. “What shall we do to pass the time?”

  She gazed in amusement. “I think you should know, we are convinced you know more about these people than you’ve told us.”

  I gave a slow, agreeable nod.

  “Would you care to be more forthcoming, in light of the current situation?” she asked, and then leaned forward. “We are desperate to catch these people, Thomas. Juanita is in critical condition and there is a strong possibility she won’t make it. If that happens, we’ll have a murdered FBI agent and nothing to show for it. Please help us.”

  “Alright, let’s see. It began one night when I was looking for a friend who’d gone off the radar. I went to a strip club he owned and met a stripper who went by the alias, Midnight. Her real name was Lilith Gray.”

  I gave a brief synopsis of my relationship with Lilith and went on to tell her she was suspected of murdering a man in Nashville.

  “She fled the city. Nobody knew her true name at that time, but I was able to find her family in Chicago.”

  “How did you do that?” she asked.

  She stared in curious interest as I described the internet search of Lilith’s unique tattoo and how it led to the tattoo shop in Chicago.

  “You must have been up close and personal with that tattoo to remember all of the details,” Agent Delmonico remarked.

  “I have a good eye,” I replied and winked.

  She offered another, small smile. “I have no doubt. What was the name of the tattoo parlor?”

  “The Gypsy Dragon. I have the address, if you want it.” She nodded and I pulled up the info on my phone. I don’t know why, but I had never deleted it.

  She wrote the information down and then looked up. “You said was, as in past tense.”

  “I’ve heard it has since shut down, but the Chicago police had it under surveillance at one time. They may have good intel on the players involved.”

  She nodded thoughtfully. “Were you able to make contact with Lilith?” she asked.

  “No, I haven’t. That leads to my next item that you guys don’t seem to be aware of. Lilith is dead.”

  Agent Delmonico stared at me blankly for a long five seconds before speaking. “Would you please elaborate?” she asked.

  “I found her dead yesterday morning. She’d been murdered. Broken neck. The investigation is ongoing, but it appears she was involved in an attempted abduction of a teenage girl, but backed out at the last moment. Somebody here ought to contact the investigating detective with Metro and see if he has any other useful information.”

  She picked up her pen and began writing furiously. After a moment, she paused and looked up. “Something tells me you know the name of the investigating detective and you possibly even have their phone number.”

  “It just so happens he is one of my closest friends, Percy Trotter. He may have some additional information. I should caution you though, he’s not a big fan of the FBI.”

  “You don’t seem to be either,” she said.

  “True enough, but I kind of like you.” I motioned for her notepad and wrote down Percy’s info. While I was writing, Agent Pike returned. He walked over to Agent Delmonico and showed her something on his notepad. She read it and then looked up.

  “Would you excuse us a moment, Thomas?” she asked. “We need to go speak with the boss.”

  “There is a restroom and water fountain down the hallway,” Agent
Pike said.

  I took the hint and stood. They wanted to talk about me behind my back. I understood. Besides, the coffee was having an effect. I found the restrooms without problem. They were clearly marked with signs that were written in English, Spanish, and Braille. They were also spotlessly clean, unlike the restrooms at the old police headquarters. Those restrooms could have been used for hazmat training. Once in the restroom, I sent a text message to Ronald.

  Have you seen the news about the FBI agent being attacked?

  Yeah. Did you know her?

  Yeah, it was the same agent from Memphis.

  Oh, man. Who was with her? Her partner?

  No. Candy.

  Oh wow.

  I sent him a couple of additional texts before someone walked into the restroom. He looked like a typical agent, dark suit, starched white shirt, muted tie, black wingtips, clean shaven. He gave me a look, I guess wondering who the hell I was. I ignored him and walked out.

  Special Agent Delmonico found me at the water fountain, which was also spotlessly clean.

  “I’m not sure I have my clothing on properly. You want to come to the men’s room and check me out again?”

  She responded with an amused smile. “Maybe later. In the meantime, we have work to do.”

  When the two of us returned to the interview room, Special Agent Dresden Carpenter was now present. He offered a pleasant smile.

  “So, am I still considered a suspect?” I asked after I sat.

  “Not at all, Thomas,” Agent Carpenter said. “The preceding interview was merely a formality. Now that we have established your innocence in this matter, we can now proceed to the next step.”

  “Which is what?” I asked.

  Agent Carpenter’s smile broadened. “Are you aware each regional office has the authority to hire people on a temporary basis as independent contractors?”

  I stared. “Are you suggesting hiring me as an independent contractor? Doing what, cleaning the restrooms?”

  Carpenter smiled patiently. “In your case, you will be an investigator,” he said.

  “Wait, you’re offering me a job?”

  “Temporarily, yes. Your sole mission will be to assist in locating these gypsies and pass the information along to us.”

  Well, this was surprising. When I came here this morning, I knew I was going to be interrogated. I understood the logic behind it, considering the recent conflict between myself and Stainback. But, to formally include me in the investigation was something I had not considered. Agent Carpenter continued.

  “Let me be specific, Thomas. As a temporary contractor with the FBI, this will be your only mission,” he said. “I’m sure you can understand, at no time should you identify yourself as an FBI agent, circumvent any laws, or deviate from your mission.”

  I nodded thoughtfully.

  “Do you have any questions?” he asked.

  “Do I get paid?”

  I caught a smile on Agent Delmonico’s face before she hastily resumed a professional demeanor.

  “Yes, there will be a stipend,” Agent Carpenter said. “Also, I would add, you are to have absolutely no contact or communication with the media for the duration of your contract.”

  I scoffed. “You won’t have to worry about that.”

  “You’ll also be expected to be a team player,” he said.

  I made a subtle glance over at Delmonico. She declined to make eye contact this time. “Yeah, well, I’m more of a maverick these days.”

  Agent Carpenter leaned forward, putting his large hands on the table palms down. I noticed his cuticles had a fresh manicure. “I’ve read the dossier on you, Thomas. I’m impressed, I must say, but there have been times where you have played a little fast and loose with the letter of the law.”

  “I prefer the descriptor, unconventional.”

  Delmonico snickered. Carpenter again exercised his patient smile. “I’m not judging, but in this case, we must do everything by the book.”

  I nodded again and mulled over what he said. The three of them waited a minute before Carpenter spoke.

  “Well, Thomas, what is your decision?” he asked.

  “I must admit, I am intrigued, but I have concerns,” I said.

  “What kind of concerns?” Agent Pike asked. I eyed him.

  “Agent Pike, with a few small exceptions, I have had nothing but shitty interactions with your esteemed bureau.” I made air quotes with my fingers when I said bureau. “Back when I was a cop, there were more than a few occasions when bureau agents hindered, interfered, and sometimes even sabotaged our investigations. And, that does not even include my episode with the late Special Agent Enrique Hernandez. In case you guys didn’t know it, I killed him. So, short answer, I can’t find it in my soul to trust any of you guys.”

  “Point taken,” Agent Carpenter said. “Which is why you will be working directly under my authority.”

  “Why you?”

  He smiled again. “I have taken over the original case. Once you get to know me—for that matter, once you get to know the three of us—I am certain your view of the bureau will change dramatically. We are going to become very good friends, Thomas.”

  Or mortal enemies, I thought. It was true, I had no warm and fuzzy feelings for the Feds, but if I rejected this offer, I’d get a handshake and then shown the door. I’d be out of the loop.

  The truth was, this was a hell of an opportunity. I’d be able to get an inside glimpse of how the Feds worked and perhaps, with their resources, I’d be able to find Wolf and his crew. But, one thing was certain: If I had the opportunity, Wolf was a dead man. I could not tell them that though.

  “Alright, I’m in,” I said.

  Agent Carpenter smiled broadly. “Excellent.” He then proffered a manila folder and opened it. “Now then, let’s get the paperwork out of the way and get to work, shall we?”

  The paperwork was the usual stuff, and it was no surprise there was a confidentiality agreement included in the contract. He gave a brief explanation of each form and I signed them without comment.

  After all of the signatures were completed, we exited the interview room and proceeded down the hall to a large room similar in design to an auditorium capable of seating a hundred or more people. Currently, it was a beehive of activity. There were multiple flat-screen monitors lining the front wall and a few dry-erase boards were on the dais below them. One screen currently displayed a Google Earth view of I-65 in southern Tennessee.

  A large dry erase board had, “Stainback Incident Command” written on the top in big bold letters. The various job positions were identified in a neat block diagram. As I watched, one of the monitors updated. It had a clock in the upper right corner which did not have the current time. Instead, it was like a timer, counting off the hours, minutes, even seconds of the time that had elapsed since the two victims were found. Below it, a message scrolled across announcing there would be a section-level briefing in five minutes.

  “Are you familiar with the incident command system?” Agent Carpenter asked.

  “Yes, I am,” I said and pointed at one of the dry erase boards. “It appears your job is the intelligence section chief.”

  “In name only,” Agent Carpenter said. He pointed around. “Everyone has a job. My question for you is, where can I best use your talents?”

  “That’s a good question,” I answered. “I have one or two ideas, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to sit in on this staff briefing before I answer.”

  “Certainly,” he said. He started to say more, but an agent walked up to him with a clipboard in hand and began showing him something. I took up a position at the back of the room and watched the activity. The briefing began exactly five minutes later when Reuben stepped up to the podium. He turned the microphone on and spoke into it.

  “May I have everyone’s attention, please?” The volume of chatter dropped, but there were always those three or four people who felt they were exempt from such orders and continued chitchatt
ing about fantasy baseball or something equally important. When they noticed the harsh glares, they reluctantly closed their pie-holes and feigned an attentive demeanor.

  “Excellent. Everyone here knows me, but we currently are on a conference call with both Chicago and the DOJ, so I am going to be slightly redundant in this briefing. Please indulge me. I am Special Agent-in-Charge Reuben Chandler and for the moment, I am the Incident Commander for this operation.

  “At approximately zero-three-eleven hours, the Marshall County Emergency Services received a 911 call from a truck driver. He was parked at a turnout lane on Interstate 65 in Marshall County at the 25-mile-marker. He reported finding two victims, unconscious and badly beaten. A Marshall County Deputy responded to the scene and immediately called for an ambulance. The two victims, identified as Special Agent Juanita Stainback and Raymondo Calendar, were transported to a local hospital. Mister Calendar was pronounced deceased at that time.”

  I already knew he was dead, but hearing it like this made me inwardly grimace. Raymondo was a drug dealer and a hustler, but even so, I found myself liking him and I got the impression he was a great father to his kid. I listened as Reuben continued.

  “As a result of the investigation thus far, we have been able to put together the following.” Reuben made a head nod toward a woman who was sitting in front of a computer. One of the monitors changed. The title identified it as a timeline. Reuben explained.

  “At approximately 2120 hours, Special Agent Stainback received a telephone call from her operative, Raymondo Calendar. The conversation lasted thirteen minutes. She then attempted to call her partner, Special Agent Avery Pollard. That call was placed at 2136 hours. Agent Pollard’s phone was apparently turned off at that time. Agent Stainback tried calling again once more and left a voicemail.” He paused, and a moment later, the sound of Stainback’s voice could be heard over the speakers.

  “Hey Ave, you need to stop turning your damn phone off. You ain’t going to believe what’s happened. Wolf called Candy. He wanted to know if Candy knew anyone who was interested in buying a white baby. Can you believe this shit? This is big, Ave. If we can catch them with an abducted baby it’ll bring this case down. The man wants to meet at a gay bar on Church Street. I told you that boy was on the down low, but you didn’t believe me. If you get this message anytime soon, call me on the burner.”