The Warriors Series Boxset II

by Ty Patterson

  The video ran and paused over the image of Diaz on the table.

  ‘Not her, look at the killer. What do you see?’ Zeb commanded.

  The room went silent as everyone tried to spot what Zeb had seen.

  Meghan was the first to react. She ran to the screen and pointed.

  ‘Here.’

  She indicated the killer’s left wrist. He wore what looked like a black, long sleeved pull-over, his arm extending into a black rubber glove.

  There was a faint shine on his left wrist and if one looked hard, the outline of a bracelet could be seen.

  A small patch of pale skin gleamed between the edge of the glove and the end of the sleeve.

  Chang swore softly and apologized immediately. ‘You’ve got eyes like a hawk. Twenty people in the room and only you spotted that.’

  ‘I can vouch for his eyes,’ Rolando said drily, satisfaction etched on his face.

  ‘Maybe the technicians can play around with that video and tell us more about the bracelet, skin.’

  Pizaka nodded and rapped out instructions.

  Rolando waved an assistant over and ordered a round of coffees. ‘This speech stuff is new to me. I didn’t know you had it in you.’ He smiled briefly. ‘I haven’t seen my men so fired up in a long time.’

  Coffees arrived, were gulped, the commissioner continued, ‘Chang said you were confident he would make mistakes. Looks like you were right.’

  ‘Nothing from the detectives in California, New Mexico, or Texas?’ Beth asked around a mouthful of cookies.

  ‘Nope.’ Chang replied. He eyed Zeb. ‘The commissioner has spoken to his counterparts but those pipes are not flowing. Anything you can do? Any arms you can twist?’

  ‘I have been thinking about that. Let’s pay them a visit.’

  Rolando frowned. ‘How long will you be gone?’

  ‘Two days. Zak and Chang will come along.

  ‘You think he won’t strike in those two days?’

  ‘The odds are in our favor. He knows we’ll be on the highest alert now. He also knows all blonde, young women in the city will be wary. He’ll wait for the heat to lessen.’

  Pizaka and Chang nodded in agreement.

  Zeb looked behind Rolando; the room was empty, except for the two lead detectives and the twins.

  He eyed the commissioner who read his glance. ‘Go ahead, Zeb. These two guys are cleared for anything and everything.’

  ‘Something else is brewing.’

  He briefed the three cops on the information Clare had sent him, the intel that had crossed her desk, the references to terrorist attacks, the warning by intelligence agencies for large cities in the U.S. to be alert.

  The silence when he had finished was loud and heavy.

  Rolando was sombre. ‘I am aware of this. Our city is a magnet for terrorists and any possible threat crosses my desk. In any case, Luis has been briefing me every day on possible attacks. His teams are on high alert.’

  Luis Murphy, the Deputy Commissioner for Counterterrorism, headed the Counterterrorism Bureau whose role was to protect the city from domestic and international terrorism.

  The Bureau had developed deep intelligence, operational, and tactical capabilities ever since 9/11. Specialized Emergency Service Units, Critical Response Vehicles, Transit Operational Response, Canine, Heavy Weapon teams, as well as various other crews, patrolled the city regularly and took swift, hard action whenever needed.

  The Bureau also had operational control of the detectives who worked with the City’s Joint Terrorist Task Force. The NY-JTTF was another anti-terrorism initiative.

  Post 9/11, the security apparatus in the country and in the city was as smooth and efficient as it possibly could get. But both Zeb and Rolando knew that things could and did slip through the cracks.

  Rolando looked at the expressionless faces of his detectives and smiled for the first time in the day. ‘Don’t even ask how Zeb knows all this, what his role is in all this. Even I haven’t a clue.’

  He glanced at his watch and rose. It had been a long day, but going by what Zeb had revealed, the next few days would be even longer.

  He walked with Zeb and the twins to the elevator bank and clasped Zeb’s shoulder.

  ‘Thanks.’

  Zeb pressed his hand in return. Not needed.

  The commissioner looked at him searchingly. ‘You are involved in this other development?’

  Zeb didn’t reply, but Rolando got his answer. They headed down in silence and just before the commissioner stepped out on his floor, Zeb stopped him.

  ‘Bruce, I think you should visit Diaz’s family.’

  Rolando’s eyes were bleak in agreement. ‘I was planning to. Tomorrow.’

  They left behind the commissioner with the weight of the victims and their families on his shoulders.

  The twins were silent as Zeb navigated through the streets of a city that had witnessed horrifying attacks and yet remained defiant and unbeaten.

  ‘Zeb,’ Meghan asked hesitantly after a while.

  He turned his shoulder fractionally at her.

  ‘Ask.’

  ‘Are you the Butcher?’

  ‘What? No! Where did that come from?’ He looked at her incredulously before an angry horn brought his attention back to driving.

  ‘Don’t give us the innocent act, Zeb. You are not that good a liar.’ Beth stormed.

  ‘The Butcher kills some HOF guy just when you are absent for a week. His videos flood the internet. We have seen you following news coverage of that guy. You never turned on the TV before! The one in your apartment is gathering dust.’

  Zeb laughed in bemused exasperation. ‘I have been in D.C., with Clare, every one of those weeks.’

  ‘Who I am sure will very conveniently back you up.’ Meghan snorted.

  ‘It’s the truth.’ Zeb said simply.

  ‘The chatter I mentioned today – we picked that up several months back. It increased exponentially when this Butcher came into the picture. There are a few cells we are monitoring here.’

  ‘Here? In our country?’

  Zeb winced as Beth shrieked.

  ‘Yeah. Home-grown extremists are the new threat facing our country. Clare and I have been having several meetings with the National Security Advisor and a few others on how we tackle these new threats.’

  ‘Why are you following the Butcher so obsessively?’ Beth didn’t let go.

  Zeb sighed and rubbed a hand over his forehead. ‘We all are trying to work out his identity. He could be a potential game changer in the fight against the HOF.’

  He slowed and stopped as traffic bottlenecked, his face red in the glow of tail lights ahead. He risked a quick glance at the sisters and his lips curved in a smile when he saw them staring at him.

  Beth punched him hard on his shoulder. ‘It’s no laughing matter. If you’ve lied to us, I swear we will – ’

  Her phone rang and when she saw who it was, her face transformed. She hunched away from them and spoke softly to the caller.

  Meghan caught Zeb’s gaze in the mirror and rolled her eyes. ‘She goes all moon faced and dumb whenever Mark calls.’

  Zeb grinned and diplomatically refrained from reminding her that she had been no different with a previous boyfriend. However, he had no intention of being punched by her. The twins’ insanity workout routines, customized by Zeb, had added power and muscle tone to their natural fitness. They never lost an opportunity to demonstrate just how strong they were.

  He caught fragments of Beth’s conversation and his smile disappeared.

  Mark and I need to have a talk.

  Chapter 10

  November 5th – 11th

  Zeb picked up the two cops early the next day and drove all of them to a private airfield outside the city, to where a Lear jet gleamed in the winter morning. The Middle Eastern royal’s gratitude had funded the sleek airplane and their business interests paid for its operation and maintenance.

  The pilots, tall, lean and
lantern jawed, bumped fists with Zeb, greeted the two cops and hugged the twins. Both of them had seen combat, knew their way around weapons and had a shared history with Zeb.

  ‘Hiya, Paul, Jed.’ Meghan greeted them when they had set her down. ‘How’s it hanging?’

  Paul’s rich drawl broke over his grin. ‘It’s well anchored, Meg. We pilots don’t let anything hang.’

  Chang whistled when he took in the leather interior and thrust his phone toward Beth. ‘For my wife. She won’t believe my tired ass was resting in such surroundings till she sees proof.’

  Beth snapped his picture, couldn’t resist and turned the camera on his companion. ‘Relax Zak. You are made for this.’

  Chang seated himself with a sigh and when the jet was wheels up, he leaned back and commented. ‘Hey, Zeb, holler anytime you need your bags carried. I’ll be the best flunky you ever had.’

  He turned around when Meghan nudged him and pointed at Beth. ‘Watch her.’

  Beth was wriggling on the seat, trying to dig in deep, a blissful expression on her face.

  Her eyes snapped open when she felt their gaze. ‘If the plane goes down, at least I will be in plush leather.’

  Her eyes switched to Zeb’s. ‘First stop Austin?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  Pizaka swiveled his seat and regarded Zeb who was lying back with his eyes closed.

  ‘Those police departments missed a trick. They should have checked out if other such victims had turned up across the country.’

  Zeb shrugged. ‘Let’s not rub it in when we are there.’

  ‘You think turning up in person will make any difference? All three PDs have already shared all that they had on the victims.’

  ‘I am hoping. Memory works better when you are in front of a person.’

  ‘Oh yeah, my wife will agree with that.’ Chang called out from the front. ‘She remembers me only when she sees me.’

  Pizaka ignored his levity and continued to look out of the window. He was sporting another light jacket over a blue shirt, and as a wingtip cut through blue sky, he lowered his shades and polished them.

  Hollywood was in California. Hollywood had casting agents. Cop shows were popular.

  Austin was mild compared to the city they had left behind. Meghan rolled the window down to let the warm air blow through as Zeb drove them to the Austin PD’s office.

  ‘We left one traffic tangle to come to another.’ She grumped as they got sucked into slow moving traffic in the city center; it took them another forty-five minutes to navigate through.

  Bill Leon greeted them, a heavyset detective with thinning hair, a neatly trimmed moustache, and a belly that protested against his belt. He led them past a noisy squad room which fell silent at their approach. Eyes pierced their backs when they disappeared into a small room.

  ‘We aren’t equipped for royalty.’ He looked pointedly at Pizaka and gestured at the five chairs around a desk that was long past its sell by date.

  ‘I’m puzzled,’ he said when his girth settled and his chair squeaked in protest. ‘We sent everything over to you on the Morales case. It’s a long way to come to hear nada.’

  ‘We like to travel,’ Zeb said mildly as he skimmed through the files Leon dumped in front of them.

  Leon regarded him for the first time, took him in, and regarded the sisters.

  ‘You aren’t cops.’

  ‘We’re consultants to the NYPD.’

  There was a sneer in his eyes when they swung to the other two policemen. ‘You can’t solve cases on your own?’

  Pizaka reached out for the files and an elegantly manicured finger toppled the one on top. ‘You got anywhere on your own?’

  Leon’s face reddened, his lips thinned and just as he opened his mouth, Zeb spoke quietly.

  ‘Can the act, Bill.’

  The transformation on the Texan was immediate. The aggression left his face, his lips smoothed and broadened into a grin. He rose, kicked his chair behind and hugged Zeb and pounded him on his back.

  ‘When the Chief told me you were coming down, I couldn’t believe it.’ He held Zeb back and the warmth radiating from him embraced them all.

  ‘You look good man, a bit skinny, but not all of us can be perfect.’ He noticed the others looking on in bemused silence and laughed.

  ‘Well hell, he didn’t tell you about us, did he? Just like him. Zeb saved my ass a long time back, in Iraq. I was with the 3rd Infantry Division then and the transport we were traveling in was blown to bits by an IED. I survived, just barely, along with three others. I had a bad concussion and next thing I know, this guy is pulling me away from the burning wreck. If he hadn’t, I and the others would be goners when the fuel tank exploded.’

  He pounded Zeb’s back again with such force that Zeb doubled over. He sat down; rose again, thrust his head out of the door and yelled an order. ‘Bad coffee and stale doughnuts, we’ve got visitors from the big city.’

  He rubbed his hands when he heard an acknowledgement and settled again.

  ‘So, when you called me a week back, I went through all the files that I had sent across to the Male Model Masquerading as Cop.’ He eyed Pizaka, who was seated in one of the chairs. ‘I was lead detective on the Morales case and my partner was Joe Sanchez. He’s retired now.’

  He said straight faced. ‘He wasn’t as fit as me.’

  ‘I did uncover something. It’ll be better if I showed you.’

  He didn’t move and when Zeb looked askance at him, he explained. ‘Coffee and doughnuts, I need to maintain my weight or else my wife will think I am having an affair.’

  Zeb sighed. ‘Bill, let’s grab some on the way.’

  ‘I can no longer digest the fresh and warm stuff. If I die, it’ll be on you,’ he grumbled but lumbered out of his chair, shouted something in the direction of the squad room and led them out.

  ‘Follow me,’ he beckoned imperiously.

  ‘Was he always like this?’ Beth whispered.

  ‘I heard that,’ he roared from the front, ‘and yeah, I was.’

  He drove out, followed a circular route and occasionally a hand came out of his window. The first time it did, Zeb slowed down. It came out again, made a circular motion.

  Keep following.

  The hand jabbed again and they all looked left.

  The Capitol Building.

  Another twenty minutes, the jab again.

  The Governor’s Mansion.

  ‘We’re not here for the fricking tour,’ Pizaka exclaimed in irritation.

  ‘His town, his way,’ his partner said laconically.

  ‘I like him,’ he added and earned a glare from Pizaka.

  They finally reached a mixed residential neighborhood, which had brightly-colored storefronts, dive bars, and coffee stores. Zeb recognized the area, East Austin. It had undergone a transformation over a decade, a gentrification that had changed the demographics of the area.

  Leon parked illegally on the curb, came out and pointed to a construction site.

  ‘This was a two-story strip mall, four years back. It was where Morales worked.’ A thumb pointed upwards. ‘On the second floor. There was nothing here then, just this strip mall on the intersection. We reckon the killer grabbed her there,’ a finger pointed down the intersection, ‘since that was the route she took home.’

  He drove them to East 12th Street, stopped outside an open area where several food trucks were parked. Lines of customers snaked outside each van and the air was rich with the smells of Mexican, Thai, and Indian cooking.

  Leon nodded to a few vendors, ducked under an awning and reached a bicycle stand. He headed to a man propped against an empty stand and crouched in front of him.

  The man was dressed in layers of clothes, a half open shirt, a torn and dirty vest under it, another vest peeked from underneath. His trousers, if they could be called that, were large and loose, caked in mud and torn shoes hung off his feet.

  He stank of alcohol, urine, sweat, and despair.
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br />   ‘Carl?’ Leon waved his hand in front of the man and when he didn’t stir, he snapped his fingers. ‘Hey, Carl? You awake? Anyone in there?’

  The man opened his eyes, blinked when he saw the cop in front of him and yawned lustily.

  The blast of sour breath would have stopped a freight train. Leon didn’t flinch.

  ‘You all right, buddy?’ he asked softly.

  Carl scratched the stubble on his face, straightened his legs, tried to stand up, and gave up when the effort was too much.

  ‘Thirsty,’ he mumbled.

  Leon’s hand disappeared into the depth of his jacket and came back with a plastic bottle of water.

  Carl grabbed it and gulped greedily. He splashed some over his face and wiped the drops away with a tattered hat.

  He smiled, revealing teeth that a dentist would have loved to advertise in a before/after project.

  ‘’Lo, Officer. You arresting me?’

  His eyes darted behind Leon and took in Zeb and the others.

  He stumbled to his feet. ‘Guests.’

  He bowed at the women, lost his balance and Zeb stepped forward and held him up easily.

  ‘Carl, you gotta tell these people what you told me two days back. What you saw all those years back.’

  Carl tilted the bottle back and his throat worked as the liquid went inside him. Some water dribbled outside his mouth, ran down his chin, and fell to the ground.

  Out of the corner of his eyes, Zeb saw Pizaka look away.

  Good cop. Not a great one. Lacks empathy.

  Carl lowered the bottle, wiped his mouth and shook his head. ‘That was way back, man. I was drunk then. Don’t wanna get in trouble.’

  ‘Come on Carl, there won’t be trouble. Don’t be difficult. These folks came all the way just to hear what you saw. This is important.’

  ‘Not to me,’ the drunk said stubbornly and turned away. He stopped when a steel hand gripped him and swung him around.

  Zeb had spotted the tattoo on the man’s inside arm.

  Gunnery Sergeant, U.S. Marine Corps. A vet fallen on hard times.

  His eyes drilled into Carl. ‘Gunny, it may not be important to you. But what you saw might save some lives.’