Without Measure: A Jack Widow Thriller

by Scott Blade

  Berry looked back at Baker with surprise on his face and then stepped aside like he was giving me permission to continue.

  Baker said, “This way, Mr. Widow.”

  I nodded and said, “Lead the way.”

  I stepped past Berry and could feel his eyes on the back of my head as I moved on.

  Baker led me past the guard shack and under the covering. I turned and looked back at the gate. I saw the guards, the shack, the long crowd of media and vans. I also saw something that I wasn’t expecting. Several of the news crews were filming me. Huge, expensive cameras were videotaping me, while a few regular cameras flashed pictures. Then I realized that they probably had telephoto lenses or at least a decent zoom.

  Baker said, “This way.”

  He led me down the street and we turned onto the main street. There was still no one walking the base. I guessed that Romey was keeping these guys on lockdown for the whole night. A precaution to her, but for me I was glad. If we found evidence that Turik was innocent, then it was best to keep everyone in check.

  Baker took me out to the corner of one more street and said, “Walk down that way and stop in front of the flagpole.”

  I said, “You’re not going to take me all the way?”

  “No, sir. Major Romey will pick you up there.”

  I nodded and followed his instructions. I started to walk. The abandoned streets and space between the buildings meant that the breeze was doubled on my face. I felt it.

  I looked up at the sky as I walked. The gray overcast had changed to a grayer overcast. The tree line was jagged, like sharp spears, ruggedly crafted centuries ago. Snow capped the tips of the trees, but below that I could see the branches, but no signs of foliage left.

  I saw no signs of daylight, but I knew it must’ve still been on the other side of the clouds because it wasn’t dark out.

  I scanned the tops of the buildings. I looked for the command building. I couldn’t see it, but I was pretty sure which direction it was in. I looked off to the east and saw a small flight tower. I couldn’t see a runway, but I was sure that there was at least one, probably a helipad as well. I hoped that there was because it would be very hard to get off base if I had to go back through the reporters.

  I could see the tops of the dorms, to the north. I saw several blinds moved aside and saw dozens of Marines staring back at me. They were only dots, but I could see the shapes of heads and shoulders. I imagined they were staring down at me, wondering who the hell I was. What made me so special that I got to walk around free while they were cooped up under lockdown?

  Being locked up like that was bad news for them, but good news for me. It meant that Romey hadn’t quite closed the book on this investigation, not yet.

  I saw the flag, still at half-mast. I stared at it. The cold breeze washed over me and below the flag. It whipped and sputtered like clothes hanging on a line outside. It reminded me of being at sea. The sound of Old Glory whipping like that always reminded me of what America stood for. The American flag didn’t need to speak. It always said the same thing without words. I believed that it spoke the same words to me as it did every sailor, soldier and Marine on the planet. I believed it said the same words to every American all over the world. I believed that it spoke the same words to everyone. It said words like bravery, compassion, tolerance, democracy, and freedom.

  I doubted that the flag could even represent any other words. It spoke to me without measure.

  I looked back down at the street and saw one of the black police Mustangs headed my way.

  It cruised the speed limit, even though there was no one else on the road and even though it was a police car. It must’ve been Romey. She was a by-the-book cop.

  And it was Romey. She pulled up on the opposite side of the street and parked the car. I had expected her to buzz her window down and talk to me, but she didn’t. Instead she parked the car, left the engine running, and stepped out.

  She put her hand over her eyes like a visor, which I thought must’ve been a habit because there certainly was no sun in her eyes. She stared at me. She even looked both ways before she started to walk over to me.

  I walked to her and we met in the center of the street, right on the yellow line.

  I said, “Romey.”

  “What are you doing here, Widow?”

  “I wanted to see you again.”

  She smiled, lowered her hand and reached it out to shake mine, like we were meeting for the first time. I took her hand in mine. It was warm and she had no gloves on.

  She wore her camo uniform. She had an armband that said MP. She wasn’t wearing body armor. Her hair was up in a bun, military regulation. She looked good.

  I saw the veins in her wrist and felt the hard work that she put into her arms at the gym. It reflected in her handshake.

  I said, “Really, we need to talk.”

  She said, “Shoot.”

  We stopped shaking hands and I said, “Don’t you want to talk back at the station?”

  “Why? Is it serious?”

  “I’d say so.”

  “I think it’s better that we talk here?”

  I said, “Why?”

  “It just is.”

  I stared at her eyes and said, “Who’s at the station?”

  She said, “Never mind that. What do you need to tell me?”

  “Who is it?”

  She was quiet for a beat. She looked right and then left, like she was looking around for spies. Then she said, “There are some guys here.”

  “What guys?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “You already know that you can trust me.”

  She looked around again, thinking about it. Then she said, “They’re from secret service and probably the State Department too.”

  “Secret Service? What the hell for? Why would the US Secret Service be here?”

  She said, “It’s not the US Secret Service.”

  I said, “I thought you said it was?”

  “No. I said the Secret Service. I never said the United States Secret Service.”

  “I’m confused.”

  “It’s another secret service.”

  “Another secret service?”

  She nodded and said, “There are guys in my station. Some secret service and some State Department and some…Well, some with no credentials.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. I stepped closer, not because I was afraid of someone listening in on our conversation. There was no one to listen. The streets were so empty that if a tumbleweed blew by, I would’ve been surprised.

  “If you were the kinda cop that I think you were, then your guess is better than mine.”

  I looked above her head for moment and stared at the building past her. Then I made eye contact with her and said, “DOD.”

  She nodded and said, “Probably.”

  “The secret service is foreign?”

  “You got it.”

  “What do they want?”

  She shrugged.

  I said, “Come on. I know you know.”

  “I can’t tell you. You know that.”

  “You already know that you can trust me, right?”

  “No, I don’t. All I know is you used to be somebody. Trust has got to be earned.”

  “I used to be somebody? You mean I’m nobody now?”

  She said, “You said it yourself. You’re just passing through. I asked you to help. You turned me down.”

  “That was because I knew you could handle it. No reason to get myself any more involved.”

  “Now you think I can’t?”

  “That’s not it.”

  “What is it then?”

  I said, “I got something.”

  “What?”

  “I got something major.”

  “What could possibly be major now? Like you said, Turik killed five Marines and then himself. Case basically closed.”

  “I got a video.”

  She perked up and looked right
into my eyes. She was a beautiful woman, rough around the edges, but I liked that sort of woman.

  She asked, “You got the video confession?”

  Normally, an ISIS operative is nothing more than a scared and confused teenager. Operatives are promised certain bonuses by ISIS after they commit martyrdom. They’re promised that they will be remembered as heroes of Allah and that their wives and mothers will be given large sums of money.

  Often, they make a confession video. Obviously, before their deaths. They confess on tape what they plan to do. They confess what targets they plan to blow up. And all of it is in the name of Alijah.

  This was the type of video that Romey was asking about.

  I said, “No. It’s not that kind of video. But it is from Turik.”

  “Where?”

  “I’m guessing that he filmed it here.”

  “No. I mean where is the video?”

  “Bring me on as a consultant.”

  “What? No way. Not with all the people here.”

  I said, “Aren’t you the ranking officer?”

  She said, “Technically. But I have to answer to someone who answers to someone who outranks both of us, Captain.”

  “True, but you still can.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Don’t tell him. No one on base will argue with you.”

  She didn’t answer that. She said, “Why do you want to help now?”

  “Maya Harris.”

  “You called her? We’ve tried to reach her.”

  “I didn’t call her. I saw her. She’s here in town. She’s driving back to San Francisco now.”

  “Why? She should be here. Talking with me.”

  “I know. And she wants to help, but she’s got her career and her child to think of. Her brother’s dead. Dragging her own name through the mud won’t bring him back and with the media here, they will connect the dots. Someone, somewhere will find out she’s his sister and implicate her. Her whole career is based around her views on religion. She’s worried if word gets out that her brother was an ISIS terrorist, then no one will hire her. She’ll be out in the cold.”

  Romey looked away and nodded.

  She said, “Okay, show me the video.”

  “Let me see your phone.”

  “For what?”

  “She’s got it on her phone. I’ll have her text it to you.”

  Romey took her phone out of her pocket. It was a BlackBerry and not one of those new ones. It was an older model with the big keyboard. I held it in my hand and said, “Why do you still have this?”

  “I don’t like the smartphones.”

  “Isn’t this a smartphone?”

  “You know what I mean. I’m talking about the iPhones everybody else has.”

  I said, “Don’t forget about the Samsungs and LGs and Nokias.”

  “I don’t like any of them.”

  I handed the phone back to her and said, “You call her. I can’t use one of these.”

  “Why not? Are you more technologically illiterate than me? Weren’t you a SEAL?”

  “I can’t use it because the keys are too small.”

  She nodded and said, “You mean your fingers are too big.”

  I said, “You flirting with me?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “What do you call it then? Being mean?”

  “What’s the matter, sailor? Can’t take a little flack?”

  I stayed quiet.

  She said, “Give me the number?”

  I gave her the number and she dialed. She waited and got an answer. She introduced herself and told Maya that I was here with her.

  I couldn’t hear Maya, but I imagined her professing that her brother was innocent. I saw Romey nod and listen for a few moments. And finally, Romey gave Maya some reassurances: “We’ll do what we can,” and so on. Then she hung up.

  “She’s sending it now. She sounds nice.”

  “She is.”

  Romey’s phone vibrated, signaling her that she had an incoming message. I wasn’t sure how this model of BlackBerry would play a video file, but I’m sure Romey had some kind of app on there that would do it.

  She watched the video and forty-one seconds later she said, “Oh my God!”

  “He might be innocent.”

  “Not that. I know where he is.”

  “Where?”

  “It’s General Carl’s private bathroom.”

  CHAPTER 23

  “GET IN THE CAR,” Romey ordered.

  The one thing that I liked more than working with a strong woman like Romey, was being ordered around by one. Some kind of ancient slave gene in me, I guessed. Maybe long ago, my ancestors had been big guys, the kind who carried the queen on her mobile throne like in ancient Greece.

  I jumped in the car and she gassed it. It was the first time that I’d seen her not be so uptight about procedure. She gassed hard, not super hard, just got us moving faster than she normally drove. I’d guess over the speed limit, but not breakneck speed or anything.

  Neither of us wore a seatbelt. She took the curves wildly and didn’t stop at a single stop sign.

  Within moments we were on the street with the command building.

  The guards were still in place. They recognized her and waved us through the checkpoint.

  I said, “I need to see it too.”

  “You will.”

  We stopped in the street in front of the command building, just as Kelly had done this morning.

  Romey said, “Open the glovebox.”

  I leaned forward and popped the box open.

  “There’s a visitor’s badge in there. Grab it.”

  I reached in and sifted through some clipped-together papers until I found a visitor’s pass on a lanyard. I looked at it. It read: Police Visitor. Which I had never seen before, but was self-explanatory.

  Romey had hopped out of the car without saying another word. She scrambled back to the trunk. She must’ve pushed a button on her keyring because I heard the trunk lid pop open. I got out and shut the door, walked around to stand next to her over the open trunk.

  She said, “Put these on when we get inside.”

  She handed me a pair of blue plastic gloves. She took some for herself and shut the trunk.

  I said, “Did you guys already do forensics?”

  “Just the basics. There was no need to do anything more.”

  “You guys just assumed he was guilty.”

  She stopped halfway in the grass up to the command building and looked at me. She said, “So did you.”

  I nodded and said, “You’re right. He looked guilty.”

  “He still does.”

  I almost said the old cliché that you can’t judge a book by its cover, but then I thought better of it. She already knew.

  I followed her to the front door. We passed where Turik shot himself.

  She looked at it and said, “That’s where he died.”

  “I know. Kelly took me by here earlier.”

  “I know. I asked him to.”

  “Why?”

  “Figured it would scare you into leaving town.”

  I said, “You wanted me to leave?”

  She opened the glass door to the front entrance and motioned for me to go first. I didn’t argue and I walked through.

  She followed after me.

  CHAPTER 24

  THE COMMAND BUILDING was only two stories, but it was long.

  I was staring down a long hallway. It reminded me of breaking into a school during winter break. Which I had done once, with a friend. We didn’t get caught, but years later I found out that he was in prison for breaking and entering, whereas I’d been employed to do undercover work. Sometimes I had to break into places that I wasn’t wanted.

  My skillset had landed me a career. His had landed him in a cell, with a prison sentence. Life is full of twists and turns.

  I whispered, “I feel like I should have a gun.”

  “Why?”

&nbs
p; “I don’t know. Crime scene. It’s quiet. Just a habit, I guess.”

  She asked, “Why are you whispering, Widow?”

  I hadn’t realized that I was doing it, but she was right. I didn’t answer.

  Romey took the lead and walked through a metal detector and security station. Of course, it was unmanned. The entire building was empty, like the streets.

  She said, “Follow me.”

  The metal detector was off and didn’t beep when she walked through it. I followed her and she led me halfway down the long hall and stopped at a staircase that led up.

  The lights were all on. No one had bothered to turn them off.

  She led the way up the stairs and I followed. I got a little too close and she caught me looking at her in a nonprofessional manner, but an entirely natural one for any man. And I was after all only a man.

  She said, “Hey.”

  “Sorry. Accident,” I lied.

  “Sure.”

  We continued on and went up to the top floor.

  She stopped in the hallway and said, “Put on the gloves.”

  More orders. I still didn’t complain.

  I started to slip on the first glove. She watched and said, “Those are the biggest size I had.”

  I wasn’t sure it would fit, but it did.

  I said, “It’s snug, but it should work fine.”

  She nodded and said, “This way.”

  We walked slowly. The first murder scenes that we came to were in the hall. They were marked with chalk outlines and crime scene number markers. Two victims were shot in the hallway, in front of the staircase.

  He had shot them in the back. Kelly had said.

  The top of the staircase didn’t provide any cover for that. I turned and looked down the other end of the hall. The hallway was brightly lit, like the first floor. Then I saw an office across the hall, about fifteen feet down on the opposite side. I walked over to it.

  Romey said, “This way.”

  She walked with her back to me, toward General Carl’s office. But I kept going the other direction.

  She stopped and watched me. She said, “Where are you going?”

  “I’m looking.”

  I stepped carefully. There was broken glass from a window that used to separate the office across the hall. I looked through it. It was an automatic glass door that was still on. As soon as I stepped near it, the sensor kicked in and the doors slid open. The rest of the hanging glass broke off as the door fought to swipe into its recoil position.