Mulberry drew a breath in as Jimmy Howe nodded to him. "Mr. Pike, what I'm about to tell you is classified."
Jackson nodded. He was no stranger to top secret information. "Go ahead."
Mulberry paused, "Susan Winters, the woman you claimed to have witnessed murdered at the Carmike Facility, was working with me. I was her point of contact at The Bureau. Before she disappeared, she had called me with what she stressed was very important information. That was Thursday evening. I never heard from her again." He shook his head.
"She was found dead in her car, along with another Carmike employee, a man that you claim to have killed at your residence. His name is Mohammed Fatal."
"The problem," Mulberry continued, "is that their injuries appear consistent with those sustained in an automobile accident.
Jackson shook his head. "That's why Fatal broke her neck, instead of putting a bullet in her head. That was the disposal plan all along."
Jackson knew that there'd be no way to differentiate a broken neck from a car crash and a couple snapped vertebrae from an assassination.
Mulberry nodded. "You are probably right. The problem is, we cannot prove any of it. Right now, all we have is your word."
Jackson nodded.
Howe and Mulberry both paused for a moment, glancing at one another. Howe spoke next.
"There are still some things that we are looking into. We have a request in to a federal judge for a warrant to search the Special Security Group headquarters in Norfolk. With the level of interest in this investigation, we assume we'll get permission."
Mulberry nodded. "But if we don't find anything there, I'm afraid we'll have nothing to go on. Whoever is responsible for this took great efforts to ensure that all the evidence points to a small, independent group of young men, all of whom carried Iranian passports and temporary student visas."
Jackson was speechless.
For the first time, he was starting to realize that what he knew might not matter to these men or to the US Government. All that mattered was what the evidence could prove.
Howe was quiet, it was as if he could see the disappointment and rage clouding Jackson's mind as they briefed him on the seemingly countless dead ends in their investigation.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Pike." Howe said, "I can see that this is upsetting."
Jackson nodded. "They aren't going to get away with this." His voice was steely as his eyes narrowed; his heart rate monitor beeping rapidly as he shifted further into an upright position. "They aren't going to get away with murdering my family."
Both Mulberry and Howe were quiet. Jackson's intensity and conviction would have been enough to silence anyone. Both men shook their heads without saying a word, before Howe spoke. "So far, Mr. Pike, it's looking like you or the SWAT snipers eliminated everyone associated with this plot and everyone involved in killing your ex wife and daughter."
Mulberry continued. "We have agents searching your residence for DNA from the man you say that you encountered yesterday morning, and a search of the Special Security Group headquarters is forthcoming, but if we are unable to tie anyone with the Special Security Group to these crimes, we'll have to assume this to be exactly what it looks like."
Jackson shook his head. "And what does it look like?" He asked.
Mulberry looked Jackson in the eye and his voice was cold as ice. "It looks like a terrorist attack on the United States sponsored by the Iranian government."
Chapter 49:
10:00 AM- Sunday, September 10th
Sumner, VA
The phone vibrated insistently on Julie Page's nightstand as she shook the cobwebs from her head. The effects of last night's Merlot were clearing from her brain as she peered around her room for the device.
She soon located the device and glanced quickly at the number. It was Officer Howe.
Julie's hands began to shake as she stood up, tossing the heavy blankets from her body and peering out the window into the late morning sun. "Hello."
Howe responded immediately, and Julie could hear the fatigue in his voice. "Ms. Page, this is Officer Howe. Have you been watching the news?"
Julie glanced at her television, which was still set to CNN. "I just woke up."
She reached for the remote, adjusting the volume before settling on the edge of her quilt.
Julie's attention was split between the television and the phone. The lead story was unbelievable. Last night, a terrorist plot to attack twelve major American cities had been discovered and foiled by an as yet identified person.
Howe didn't give her much more time to absorb the story.
"I'm sorry to call so early, Ms. Page." He said, interrupting the news. "But I wanted you to be the first to know. Jackson Pike was not responsible for the murders of Leigh and Clementine on Friday night."
Julie breathed a sigh of relief. Somehow, she had known all along that Jackson couldn't have been capable of that kind of brutality against his own family.
"Do you have someone in custody?" She asked, standing up and walking out of her bedroom to the kitchen where she filled a glass with tap water and took a long drink.
Howe paused for a moment. "It's a long story. But it's all tied up in this terrorist plot. We think that Jackson stumbled across the theft of the chemicals that these men used in their weapons. The men went in search of Jackson and unfortunately found Leigh and Clementine."
Julie nodded to herself. "Go on."
"Jackson tracked the men responsible to an abandoned shipping and receiving facility on the river and called the police. By the time we got there, he had killed all but four of the twelve men involved in the terrorist plot."
Julie took another long drink of water and glanced once more at her television. Helicopters circled above the facility, their telephoto lenses sweeping across the large brick building. "So Jackson is the unnamed hero that the media is talking about?"
Howe took a breath. He really shouldn't be telling anyone this, "That's right. And he could really use a friend."
Julie set the water down on her wooden roll top desk. "Where are you?" She asked, without hesitating.
Jimmy spoke softly. "Memorial Hospital in Sumner. Room 113. He's been in and out of consciousness all morning, but seems to be very lucid. A visit from friends or acquaintances would definitely help with his outlook, if nothing else."
"I'll be there in a bit." She said simply.
Jimmy interrupted before she could hang up the phone. "Does he have any other friends, acquaintances that I should contact?"
Julie laughed without mirth. "No. Jackson never really was the type to have friends. He's always kept to himself and has no family that I know of. Leigh and Clementine were all he had. Well, that and the SEALs."
Jimmy exhaled, suddenly finding himself sad for the man who rested just beyond the wooden door of the hospital in the Intensive Care Unit of Memorial Hospital. "Thanks, Julie. This really means a lot."
She flipped the plastic earpiece of her phone shut and set the telephone on her kitchen counter. She frowned, a tear coming to her eye as she stepped back into her bedroom.
What kind of a man has no one to visit him in the hospital but a work colleague of his ex-wife, she wondered sadly as she pulled on a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt, glancing in the mirror and running her fingers through her long brown hair.
She walked to her front door, wiping a tear away from her right cheek. She would need to hold it together this morning.
If not for her own sake, then for Leigh and Clementine, she thought as she took a deep breath and stepped into the cool humidity of the mid September morning.
Chapter 50:
10:15 AM- Sunday, September 10th
Sumner, VA
Jimmy Howe was on his fifth cup of coffee. But even with the caffeine pumping through his system, he was having a hard time staying awake and alert.
He was sitting outside of Jackson Pike's hospital room, offering the other two officers who had been sitting here all night a short respite whil
e he polished off the last of his black coffee.
He peered deeply into the paper cup that he held in his trembling hands. The dark coffee was like a mirror in the bright fluorescent lights of the hospital hall. The mirror reflected his face, a face haggard from the events of the past few days.
Jimmy took a deep breath.
Agent Mulberry had requested one more interview with Jackson this morning. After that, hopefully Howe would be able to climb into a much deserved and long overdue slumber in his own bed.
He heard Mulberry approaching and stood up. The man was nothing if not punctual, thought Howe as he glanced down the gleaming passageway that led to the hospital's Emergency Room.
Mulberry shook his head and before Howe had a chance to say a word. "Seems you have a leak, Jimmy."
Jimmy had not left the small confines of the hospital hallway and cafeteria since early this morning. He had no idea what the FBI Agent was referring to.
"What are you talking about, Brad. I've been here all morning" replied Howe, his face showing the strain of the past day, and his tone impatient with the accusation.
"Someone leaked to the press that the international hero who foiled the terrorist bombing plot is right here in Sumner. At this very hospital." Mulberry shook his head.
Howe heard the helicopters a moment later. "Fuck."
Mulberry shook his head. "That's what I said. It looks like a goddamn press convention out there. Someone is going to have to make a statement."
Howe looked down, his hand going to his cell phone. The Chief would want to make a statement, he felt certain. He recalled his haggard reflection in his coffee, noting that it would certainly not be him.
The phone rang once before the Chief answered. "I'm aware of the situation, Jimmy. I'm on my way to the hospital now. How did this information get out?"
Jimmy stammered as he spoke. "I don't know, sir. It could have been any of the hospital staff. What is certain is that it was not anyone associated with our department."
"I understand. This story was bound to get out sooner or later. I'll keep a lid on his identity for as long as I can, but make sure you let him know, eventually the press will figure out who he is, and they'll come looking for him."
Jimmy exhaled loudly, "I will, sir."
He hung up the phone and tucked the device into the left pocket of his blue pants before adjusting his law enforcement belt.
"Shall we?" he asked stepping towards the door to Jackson's hospital room and glancing nonchalantly towards Agent Mulberry.
Mulberry followed close behind as Howe opened the door to Jackson's room. The patient was awake, and sat staring out the window into the approaching fall outside, his face a mask of melancholy and loneliness.
Jackson turned his head, nodding in acknowledgment towards the two law enforcement professionals. He shifted his weight towards the men and pushed himself to a sitting position in his hospital bed. "Good morning, gentlemen."
Both men nodded a brief acknowledgement and stood side by side at the foot of Jackson's bed.
"It seems I'm famous." Jackson almost cracked a smile as he pointed to the news helicopters circling outside of his window.
Howe chuckled. "You won't have to talk to them until you are ready."
Jackson did not return Jimmy's mirth. "I'll never be ready. What did you gentlemen find out?"
Mulberry was first. "I'll keep this short, Mr. Pike. We have made a positive ID on the man you claimed to have killed in your home. DNA analysis has proven the man to be none other than Mohammed Bin Abdul."
The agent set his black briefcase on the table next to Jackson's hospital bed and pulled a manila file from within. He unfolded the file and pointed out a photograph and dossier on the man he had referred to as Mohammed Bin Abdul.
Jackson could not forget the face. It was him. The man he'd seen at the chemical distribution center. The man he'd seen murder Susan Winters; the man who had likely killed his family.
Jackson's hands began to shake as he held up the photo in the early morning light that cascaded from the hospital's windows. "On the news, they identified him as Mohammed Fatal."
Mulberry nodded. "From what we've been able to ascertain, it appears that this man stole the identity of an American citizen named Mohammed Fatal. Using fake identification and even military records, he was able to obtain employment at none other than the Norfolk branch of Carmike Industries' Special Security Group."
Mulberry continued, "We believe this was all in an effort to use the company's resources to carry out his planned attack."
Jackson took a deep breath and closed the manila folder, before handing it back to Mulberry.
"That's not all." It wasn't a question. Based on the look on Mulberry's face, Jackson knew there was more to this story.
"Mohammed Bin Abdul was an Iranian national." Mulberry glanced at Howe. "A former member of the Iranian secret police, and a professional assassin with an Interpol record as long as any I've ever seen."
Jackson nodded. "So, because he was able to dupe the personnel folks at the Special Security Group with fake credentials, he's offered the company plausible deniability."
Mulberry nodded. "Association does not imply guilt. And in this case, that's all we have."
Jackson's pulse began to quicken, the heart monitor next to him beginning to beep more insistently. "Were you able to at least place him at Leigh's home? Mine?"
"We found no usable DNA or genetic material in either location. The blood we located at your home was fouled with some sort of solvent, most likely a simple bleach solution. As for your ex-wife's home, it was a clean crime scene as well."
"Did you check the Carmike SSG facility in town?" Jackson's voice was beginning to crack, his heart rate monitor beeping more insistently with each passing moment.
It was Howe's turn. "We served the warrant this morning. The entire third floor of the facility is a construction zone. The carpet has been torn up, cubicles ripped out. Not a trace of evidence of any corporate involvement."
Jackson frowned. "So, you have nothing."
"Unfortunately, Jackson" said Howe, using Jackson's first name and placing his hand on his shoulder, "all we have is your word. Any and all evidence that could have indicated any guilt or association on the part of Carmike Industries has been destroyed. Your testimony will be refuted as based on the behavior of one man; Mohammed Fatal. A man that the company will claim was a rogue operative."
Mulberry frowned and took a deep breath. "Mr. Pike, I don't like this any more than you do, but we have no legal justification for following up with Carmike. We're going to have to let this one go."
Mulberry nodded curtly and stepped from the room. Howe paused for a moment and faced Jackson, whose face was a mask of frustration and anger. "One thing I forgot to mention, Jackson."
Jackson looked Howe in the eyes and waited, his heart rate slowing as Howe looked at his feet for a second before glancing up.
"The third floor of that building, the construction zone," he paused. "Before I was a cop, I used to work construction. I've never been to a construction zone before that wasn't absolutely covered in dust. That was the cleanest damn construction zone I've ever seen."
Chapter 51:
11:15 AM- Sunday, September 10th
Sumner, VA
The acrid smell of smoke from the nearby burning chemical plant burned Julie Page's nostrils as she pushed through the crowd of reporters that stood just outside the entrance to the Emergency Medicine Department at Memorial Hospital in Sumner, Va.
A few of the reporters cast her interested glances, as she was sure they did to every visitor. Most appeared jealous of her ability to walk through the sliding glass doors that led to the interior of the building.
She smiled sadly. They would be even more jealous if they knew she was here to speak with the man they all hoped to catch a glimpse of in their telephoto camera lenses.
She pushed through the last of the reporters and strode past the uniformed officers wh
o were setting up a podium in front of the building. It appeared there was about to be an official statement from the Sumner Police. She was glad she hadn't arrived fifteen minutes later.
The inside of the Emergency Medicine Department looked no different than you would expect, except for the small cluster of uniformed officers and men in dark suits that congregated together in a small semicircle near the triage counter. Thankfully, thought Julie, among these men stood Officer Jimmy Howe.
Julie waved to Officer Howe, who turned and excused himself from the group of men and walked heavily towards her, taking a long sip of coffee from a paper cup in his broad hand.
"Good morning, Julie. Thanks for coming."
Julie nodded and peered around the Emergency Room. "Thank you for the phone call. It's truly an amazing story," she said. She'd heard bits and pieces briefly on NPR during the drive to the hospital.
Howe shook his head. "It truly is. Jackson is down the hall. He was awake the last time I saw him. I'll walk you down there."
Howe nodded once more to the group of men who prepared to face the onslaught of reporters outside. "After all, you're doing me a favor. I hate the press."
Julie chuckled sadly and followed closely on the now scuffed heels of Officer Howe's shoes, following closely behind him down the Emergency Room Hallway to room 113, where a bored looking uniformed member of the Sumner Police pushed open the door to the room and greeted Jimmy Howe with a wave.
"Morning," said Jimmy Howe as he stepped through the door and into Jackson's room.
Jackson looked up, nodding weakly to the officer as he stared at the television. It was a few seconds before he noticed the female form standing behind Officer Howe.
A familiar face stared back at Jackson. It was a face he hadn't seen in over a year, but a face he recognized as Leigh's coworker and friend Julie.
"Good morning." Jackson sat as upright as he could in his bed, turning to face the unexpected visitors.
Julie took a couple of steps towards the bed, blinking back tears as she absorbed the deep sadness in Jackson's eyes.
Iron Triangle: A Jackson Pike Novel (Book One of The Iron Triangle Series) Page 18