by Chris Carter
‘Great,’ Hunter replied. ‘You said that the tracker will be able to transmit for twenty-four hours, right?’
‘That’s correct.’
‘OK,’ Hunter checked his watch. It was past four in the afternoon. ‘Let’s do this.’
‘I’m on it,’ Keller replied. He was just about to disconnect from the call when Hunter stopped him. A new idea had just popped into his head. It was a bold idea, but it could provide him with an odd type of insurance.
‘Vince, hold on a second,’ Hunter said. ‘I need something else.’
‘Sure.’
‘A contingency plan.’
‘OK? What do you have in mind?’
Hunter told him his idea.
For the next few seconds, Keller went totally quiet. Finally, he spoke.
‘Are you sure about this, Robert?’
‘Not one hundred percent,’ Hunter admitted. ‘But I still want to go ahead with it. It might save a life. Taking Angela was his insurance. This is mine.’
‘Taking who?’
‘Never mind.’ Hunter dismissed the question. ‘Can you do it? Do we have enough time?’
‘Sure. No problem. I’ll get on it right away.’
‘I’ll be over at twenty to five to pick up the diary.’
‘All right, I’ll see you then. Oh, and don’t forget to bring your cellphone with you. I’ll give you a tablet with the tracker application, but I can also install it onto your phone.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll have it with me.’
Sixty-Seven
At exactly twenty to five, Hunter and Garcia were once again at the reception desk inside the Piper Tech building. This time he didn’t have to wait, as Keller had left specific instructions with all the receptionists to buzz both detectives in as soon as they got there.
On the second floor, Keller had just finished his task, when Hunter and Garcia appeared at the door to Electronics Lab number two.
‘Wow,’ Keller said. ‘Talk about perfect timing. I just finished sealing the back cover less than a minute ago.’ He ushered them into the lab with a hand gesture. ‘Here, have a look.’
Both detectives approached Keller’s workbench. He handed the diary to Hunter with the back cover flipped open.
‘Run your finger over the leather sheet and let me know if you’re able to notice anything.’
Hunter ran his finger over the leather. There were no bumps, or lumps, nothing to indicate that it had been tampered with. He checked the edges of the leather sheet, where Keller had reapplied the glue. Perfect. Hunter watched Garcia also run his fingers over the sheet before flipping the diary to the front cover. Another perfect job.
‘This is excellent,’ Hunter said, closing the diary.
‘Thank you.’ Keller looked very proud of the good job he had done. He turned back toward the workbench and picked up two tablets that were to the right of where the diary had been. ‘I remember your captain saying that you would have a SWAT and an SIS team tracking you, so I’ve installed the tracking app on these two tablets.’
Keller turned both tablets on. The tracking app was already loaded and opened on the screens. It showed a blinking red dot on a map.
‘As I’ve said before, the signal that the tracker emits isn’t terribly strong, and it works using cell towers. That means that this is as effective as a cellphone. So in locations where a phone would lose its signal, so will this.’
‘We understand,’ Hunter said.
‘Do you have your cellphones?’ Keller asked. ‘It takes less than a minute to install the app.’
‘Sure.’
Hunter and Garcia handed them to Keller. He guided both detectives to his small and crammed office, connected the phones to the computer on his desk and loaded the tracking application onto them.
‘There you go,’ he said, returning the phones to their respective owners. ‘All done and ready to go.’
‘Thanks, Vince.’
‘Robert,’ Keller called as Hunter and Garcia were leaving his office. Hunter turned to face him again. ‘Good luck. I hope the plan works.’
‘So do I,’ Hunter said before closing the door behind him.
Sixty-Eight
Hunter and Garcia got back to the Police Administration Building at 4:53 p.m. – seven minutes before the killer was due to call Hunter again. Captain Blake was waiting for them in their office, but this time she wasn’t alone.
‘Detective Hunter, Detective Garcia,’ she said, as both detectives entered the room. ‘This is Agent Terrance Shaffer, SWAT team leader . . .’ She indicated a very tall and slim man with a three-day stubble, who was standing to her left. ‘ . . . And this is Agent Trevor Silva, SIS team leader.’ She indicated the person to her right – a six-foot-one, dark-haired, broad-shouldered, muscular man who could easily be mistaken for a professional linebacker. ‘They’re each leading a six-man strong team that will be following you throughout whatever this murderous piece of trash comes up with when he calls.’
‘Both of our teams are locked and loaded and ready to go as soon as you are, Detective,’ Agent Silva said, as he and Agent Shaffer shook Hunter’s hand.
The anger that burned inside their eyes traveled down their arms and into their handgrips, which with just a few more pounds of pressure could’ve probably crushed bones.
The news that two LAPD SIS officers had been murdered earlier in the day had spread like wildfire throughout the entire Los Angeles Police Department. Yes, it was true that certain units inside the department didn’t really get along. Rivalry between some divisions was even considered normal. But every single division, every single unit inside the LAPD would drop any beef and come together as one when a fellow law enforcement officer lost their life in the line of duty. Rivalry did exist, but so did respect.
‘Thank you,’ Hunter replied, before handing each team leader one of the tablets that Keller had given him just minutes earlier. As he did, he explained the limitations of the tracker.
‘Both teams will be using unmarked cars,’ Agent Silva said, acknowledging Hunter’s explanation. ‘Two agents in each car, or on foot, whatever the case may be, spread across possible routes according to your position.’ He tapped his index finger against his tablet screen. ‘All of it from a safe enough distance. But in case his plan is to run into a subway or the sublevels of a building somewhere, I can guarantee you that one of the vehicles with a two-man team can get to said location in thirty seconds or less. The others will be right behind. Air support will also be hovering in the sky nearby, ready to engage if needed.’
‘There’s also this,’ Agent Shaffer said, handing Hunter a small, kidney-shaped earpiece. ‘It should sit comfortably inside your ear. It will allow us to hear you and you to hear us.’
Hunter adjusted the earpiece into his left ear.
‘How does it feel?’ Agent Shaffer asked.
‘Comfortable.’
‘As always,’ Captain Blake took over, ‘a tracer will be immediately run against any calls you might receive on both of your cellphones – personal and work. Not that we’re really expecting him to be stupid enough to give us a location, but . . .’ She gave Hunter a ‘you never really know’ kind of shrug.
‘I really hope he does,’ Agent Silva said.
Hunter locked eyes with him for a long moment. The anger there, if anything, seemed to be intensifying.
‘Trust me, no one wants to get their hands on this killer more than I do, but I must stress that whatever happens, no lethal force is to be used. He has a hostage – Angela Woods, twenty-one years old. Until we’re certain that she’s safe, this killer, whoever he is, holds all the cards and we have to play by his rules.’
Agent Silva didn’t shy away from Hunter’s stare.
‘James and Darnel weren’t just SIS agents,’ he said, his voice full of pain but firm, nevertheless. His heavy-lidded eyes gave him a dim-witted look, which was deceiving because Trevor Silva was one of the brightest minds inside the Special Investigation Section o
f the LAPD. ‘They were friends . . . close friends . . . my close friends. They both had families: . . . kids who’ll never see their father again . . . wives who’ll never sleep by their husband again.’ He paused, doing his best to contain his anger. ‘Do you have a family, Detective Hunter? A wife? Kids?’
‘No, I don’t.’
Agent Silva nodded back, slowly. ‘So you cannot possibly begin to understand—’
‘Look,’ Captain Blake intervened, addressing Agent Silva. ‘I understand that they were SIS agents, and maybe we didn’t know them as well as you did, but they were still LAPD officers, which makes this personal to all of us. All of us have sworn an oath, which is “to protect and to serve”. Detective Hunter is right. First and foremost, our duty is to protect the life of an innocent civilian and that means that no lethal force is to be used until we have confirmation that the hostage is safe and well. Is that understood?’
The captain’s eyes widened and her brow deeply furrowed. Her stare threatened to decapitate the SIS team leader.
He held her stare, but hesitated.
‘Is that understood, Agent Silva?’ Her voice was thunderous.
‘Yes.’
Captain Blake’s eyes moved to Agent Shaffer.
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Once we have confirmation that she’s safe and well . . .’ The captain shrugged unconcerned. ‘Then all gloves are off.’
‘We better end this pointless conversation and right quick,’ Garcia said, consulting his watch. ‘It’s four fifty-nine. We’ve got one minute.’
At that exact moment, a knock came on Hunter and Garcia’s office door.
‘Come in,’ Hunter called.
The door was pushed open by a young uniformed officer carrying a small FedEx envelope.
‘Detective Hunter?’ he asked from the door.
‘Yes,’ Hunter replied.
‘This just came for you, sir.’ The officer stepped inside and handed Hunter the envelope. ‘It says “Urgent”.’
Hunter frowned. He wasn’t expecting any deliveries.
‘For me? What, just now?’
‘That’s correct, sir.’
Hunter’s stare rounded the room.
Despite the same quizzical look in everyone’s eyes, they all knew that that wasn’t a coincidence.
Hunter took the envelope, ripped it open and tipped the contents into his right hand.
A smartphone.
Five o’clock.
The phone rang in Hunter’s hand.
Sixty-Nine
No one had to ask. Everyone inside Hunter and Garcia’s office knew who the caller at the other end of the line would be, even before Hunter had accepted the call. The display screen read ‘unknown number’.
‘You didn’t have to kill them,’ Hunter said, accepting the call and immediately switching it to speakerphone. He managed to keep all his anger out of his tone.
Everyone gathered around.
Hunter held the phone in front of his face, just a couple of inches from his mouth.
‘Detective Hunter,’ the male voice said. It was the same husky, toneless voice that Hunter had heard on the phone the day before. ‘I did tell you that you wouldn’t be able to protect her, didn’t I?’
‘You didn’t have to kill them.’ Hunter said it again.
‘Really?’ the voice replied. ‘So what should I have done? Asked them to hand the girl over to me? Somehow I don’t think that would’ve worked.’
From the corner of his eyes, Hunter saw the look on Agent Silva’s face change. He instantly lifted a hand at the agent to stop him from saying anything.
Agent Shaffer placed a warning hand on Agent Silva’s shoulder.
‘So now that you know what the bargain is,’ the caller continued, ‘let’s talk about what really matters. Do you have it?’
Hunter’s head dropped to his chest and he refilled his lungs with air. ‘I do,’ he replied.
‘OK.’
The line went dead.
Hunter looked at the display screen in confusion. The caller had disconnected.
‘What the hell?’ Hunter said, with a quick shake of the head.
‘What happened?’ Garcia beat everyone to the question.
‘He disconnected,’ Hunter replied.
‘He what?’ Captain Blake looked dismayed. ‘Why?’
‘I don’t . . .’ Hunter started his reply, but he was interrupted by a new phone ring. The melody to this ring was significantly different from the first one.
Hunter checked the display screen again.
Video call.
Hunter’s stare once again circled the room.
As if rehearsed, everyone nodded at him to take the call.
Hunter slid his thumb across the screen to accept it. The display immediately changed into a live camera feed. At the very top of the screen, a tiny green light lit up to indicate that the phone camera that faced Hunter had been activated.
On the screen, the lighting at the other end wasn’t great, making the picture dark and brittle. All Hunter could see was a crude, white wall. It looked like a basement.
Everyone quickly repositioned themselves directly behind Hunter to peek at the small screen, but Hunter quickly swung away from everyone. He pointed the phone away from his face for a quick second, as he shook his head at them.
Garcia and Agent Silva both lifted their hands to show their understanding.
Hunter aimed the phone back at him.
‘Show me,’ the caller said.
Hunter was still looking at a wall.
‘Show it to you?’ he asked.
‘Yes. You just told me that you have it. So show me my diary. Do it now.’
Hunter once again pointed the phone away from his face. He took one step to his right and collected the diary from his desk. He held it at around chest height and aimed the camera at the book.
On the small screen, despite the odd angle, Hunter could see movement. Then, someone wearing a rubber werewolf mask came into view.
‘Flip it open,’ the Werewolf said.
‘Any particular page?’ Hunter asked.
‘Surprise me.’
Hunter opened the diary to a random page, somewhere around halfway.
The Werewolf examined it for five seconds.
‘Flip it again,’ he commanded.
Hunter did. Further forward.
Another five seconds examining it.
‘Funny how having something – or someone – to use as a bargaining tool can make things happen a lot faster, isn’t it?’
‘I already had the diary,’ Hunter shot back. ‘You didn’t have to kill them. You didn’t have to take Angela.’
‘But now you also know not to try anything,’ the Werewolf replied. ‘Which brings us to the real reason for this call. First, let’s start with the rules. One – I say, you follow. No questions. No buts. If you question anything I say, the thieving bitch dies.’ A short pause. ‘Two – I’m going to put you through a number of tasks. Every one of them will come with a time limit. If you are even a second late accomplishing any of them, the thieving bitch dies.’
Everyone in the room exchanged a worried look.
‘Three,’ the Werewolf continued. ‘I know that you’ll have people following you. I would be stupid if I believed that you wouldn’t have. I don’t mind it, but if anyone interferes with any of the tasks I give you, the thieving bitch dies.’ Another short pause. ‘That’s it. Three simple rules. Are those rules understood, Detective Hunter?’
‘Yes.’
Agent Silva scratched an itch at the back of his head.
‘So here comes your first task. Are you ready?’ The Werewolf didn’t give Hunter a chance to reply. ‘Do you know where the Downtown Independent Theater is?’
Hunter’s eyes narrowed slightly at his phone screen. ‘Yes, of course. It’s just around the corner.’
‘That’s right, it is,’ the Werewolf agreed. ‘Take the diary, make your way there on foot, buy a ticket
for the film that will start in ten minutes and grab seat K16 on the last row.’
‘What if there’s somebody already sitting in seat K16?’ Hunter asked.
‘Then you ask that somebody to move,’ the Werewolf replied. ‘And, Detective, don’t be a dick and flash your badge at the ticket office. Buy a ticket like a regular person.’
Hunter nodded at his screen. ‘OK.’
‘You have five minutes to make it. Those five minutes are starting . . . now.’
The line went dead.
Seventy
As soon as the Werewolf disconnected from the call with Hunter, both agents, Shaffer and Silva, got on their radios and immediately instructed their teams to take position near the Downtown Independent Theater.
‘Robert,’ Captain Blake said. ‘You’ve got five minutes. Go. Now.’
Hunter turned on the balls of his feet and reached for the diary on his desk. As he did, the phone in his hand rang again, stopping everyone dead.
‘What the hell?’ Garcia said.
Hunter checked the screen – another video call request.
He took the call.
As the screen came alive again, the image of the Werewolf materialized once more.
‘One last thing, Detective Hunter. There’s something else I want to show you.’
‘And what is that?’ Hunter asked.
‘Just keep your eyes on the screen.’
Hunter did so and a second later the image began to slowly pan right, dragging along the crude white wall for about three to five seconds before it finally paused again. Hunter looked at the screen in such a way that made everyone in the room frown at him.
‘What’s going on?’ Garcia mouthed the words.
With his index finger, Hunter ushered everyone to come closer again.
They all bunched up behind Hunter and in a flash their frowns quickly morphed into dismay.
‘What the fuck?’ Agent Shaffer said under his breath.
What they were all looking at was a young man who appeared to be around twenty-one years old, twenty-two at a push. His features would’ve been attractive, if not for the state he was in. His longish, black hair was dirty and disheveled. His fringe, drenched in sweat, was glued to his forehead, with part of it falling over his left eye. His eyes, very dark in color, were now an ugly shade of pink and the dark circles under them, together with how puffy they looked, indicated that he hadn’t slept for days or had been crying for days, or a combination of both. The stubble on his face was a consequence of at least three days without shaving. His lips were severely dried, with a couple of cracks at the edges.