by Luke Murphy
Calvin twisted the steel rod, bending the man’s wrist and dislodging the gun before whipping his hand through the air, and swooping the rod into the side of the man’s neck.
First, he gurgled, then choked on a geyser of frothy blood, bringing his hands to the wound as the red liquid oozed between his fingers. The boss died within seconds.
Calvin turned to Livia. “Get us out of here.”
Chapter 24
“This is messed up,” Jimmy said.
Dale and Jimmy sat in the sergeant’s office. They’d just told Sarge about the call Dale had received last night from Major General Howard Kennedy. The sergeant lit up a cigarette while his previous one still burned in an ashtray.
“What do you think it’s all about?” The sergeant took a greedy drag on the cigarette.
Dale shook his head. “I honestly don’t know. It has to be about the whole Baxter deal. I don’t see of any other reason for a personal meeting. They must think we know something and are keeping it from them.”
The office door opened and a young-looking, pimple-faced, male intern shyly entered, dropped a box on the sergeant’s desk, and left without saying a word.
The box was full of electronic equipment, surveillance devices, wiretaps, and bugs that had been discovered at Dale and Jimmy’s houses that morning. Multiple listening devices had been found inside phones and throughout the various locations of their living arrangements.
The government had gone above and beyond.
“What time is the meeting?” the sergeant asked.
“Late afternoon, just before the dayshift guards are released and switched out. The Major General hopes they’re tired and not as questioning or fresh as they should be. And we hope the same.”
“Maybe you should think about wearing a wire.” The look on the sergeant’s face told Dale that he wasn’t completely on board with the idea.
“That’s an idea, but knowing the US military, I’m sure they’ll be ready for that. Everything with them is hush-hush and one big cover-up. It seems worse than the CIA. There’s no way I’ll be allowed near the Major General without being thoroughly checked.”
They sat in silence for what seemed like minutes, the intensity in the room thick and suffocating. It was broken by Dale’s cellphone.
He checked called ID and looked at the sergeant. “It’s Mike Armstrong.”
“Answer it.”
“Mike, how are you?”
“I’m okay. I heard our boy is safe and sound.”
Dale could hear the smile in Mike’s voice. “Yeah, I’m sure it was quite a trip. I bet he’ll have some stories for us.”
“He usually does. Now about your little situation.”
“What did you find out?” Dale clicked his phone to “speaker” and held it in the air so that Jimmy and the sergeant could follow the conversation.
“The damnedest thing. I went to that page you told me about and I thought I was in. I found what looked like a secured government site and began a series of proven hacking techniques to get me through the outer layers into the meat and potatoes. But as I got into the core, the screen froze and then blinked.”
“That’s exactly what happened to us,” Jimmy said.
“What do you make of it? Have you ever seen anything like that?” Dale asked.
“Many times. Whoever was on the other end of that link, the government, had put a tracer in place and attempted to locate the person trying to break into that specific site. That’s why the screen froze, hoping that whoever was on would stay and attempt to get back in.”
“What did you do?”
“I hightailed my ass out of there. I backtracked and retraced my steps as fast as I could before I was detected. Whatever security system the government has locked in on that site, and whoever they have working at the other end, is damn good. Tougher than the Cayman Islands. My location was being compromised. But I’m sure I got out of there in time. No one has come breaking down my door.”
“Shit, sorry about that, Mike. I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”
“I’ve been in my share of binds and I’m still breathing. So, I went a step further. I took the information that Jimmy sent and I started doing my own web searches and explorations, without touching any of the obvious major government sites.”
“Great!” the sergeant looked genuinely excited.
“Don’t get too excited. I had about the same luck. Every time I got close to some kind of input into that symbol, I got blocked and a trace was started to track my fat ass. That information is so heavily guarded and protected that not even the best hackers in the world would be able to break it out.”
Dale looked at Jimmy. “I guess we shouldn’t have kept trying to get in.”
Jimmy nodded. “Do you think that’s why we were followed?”
“And bugged. That’s what the Major was talking about when he said that someone in our department stuck their nose where it didn’t belong, and when he mentioned my pay grade. Mike, you better be careful. Make sure you check around for suspicious people. You could be followed or bugged.”
“I’ll keep an eye out and I’ll check for taps. Sorry I couldn’t get what you needed, Dale. I’ve never been shut out like that before. Some sites take longer than others, requiring a little more finesse, but never have I been completely locked out before,” Mike had real remorse in his voice.
“Don’t worry. You tried your best. Thanks for the help.” Dale hung up. “Shit! I hoped to have something before we went to meet with the Major General. Now we’re going in there blind.”
The sergeant sat down. “And they have all the leverage.”
“Not necessarily,” Dale said. “There has to be a reason he wants to meet with us. The military doesn’t just ask for outside help, unless they really need it. As the colonel once told us,” Dale changed his voice, lowering it to try to imitate that of Colonel Hughes. “The military prefers to handle these situations internally.”
“Do you think they want our cooperation in nailing Baxter?” Jimmy asked.
Dale smiled. “Yeah, because it went so well the last time we were involved. A lot of people have died at the hands of Derek Baxter, and I’m pretty sure we can’t help to bring him down. But I think the Major believes that we have some information about that carving that they want buried. They seem really worried about their dirty laundry getting aired.”
“So, what are you going to do?” Jimmy asked.
Dale’s smile grew bigger. “Why would we tell him he’s wrong? As long as he thinks we have vital information for him, the more chances we have of getting vital information from him. Let’s play hard ball. This is Vegas, right?”
♣
Dale and Jimmy showed up at the base gates at 3:45 p.m. They were forced out of their cars, requested to leave their firearms, and patted down before a metal detector scanned their bodies.
Dale was asked to open the trunk, and the camo-clad duty guard rummaged through the back.
“Are you looking for a bomb or a body?” Dale asked sarcastically, grinning at the guard.
The guard’s lips didn’t twitch, not even a smirk. His expression was unreadable. He shut the trunk and passed by the car, glancing briefly through the tinted windows, as he headed back to the gate booth.
Beads of sweat peppered his upper lip. That’s right. Just keep on walking, keep on walking.
The guard’s partner used a mirror and rod, with an extension, to search underneath the vehicle. Dale followed guard number one into the booth, just realizing that he’d been holding his breath.
“Are we almost done?”
The guard looked at a clip board. “What did you say your name was?”
“Dayton.”
The guard scrolled down a list with his finger. “You’re not on here.”
“What do you mean? We have a meeting with Major General Howard Kennedy.”
“Major General Kennedy is retired. What business do you have with him?”
Dale was a
bout to speak up when a young-looking, peach-fuzz-faced kid in an army uniform and beret stepped into the booth.
“I’ll take them.”
“They aren’t on the list.”
“The Major General sent me to get them. They’re working on a fundraising project with him and the American Cancer Society.”
The guard didn’t say anything. He just nodded.
Dale followed the young soldier out of the booth and got in the car, as the two gate guards sat inside and stared at them. The young soldier bent over and stuck his head in the open driver’s window.
“Thanks,” Dale said.
The boy nodded, then lowered his voice. “The Major General is retired, so this meeting is running under the radar. I don’t know what it’s about, but I’ve been serving under Howard Kennedy for my entire tour in the military and I trust the man with my life. He wants to see you. He asked me to come and get you, so I’m doing it. No one else knows about this meeting.”
“So where are we going?”
The soldier gave them directions to the Major General’s house. Dale was surprised that, being retired, the man still lived on base. But he learned from the soldier that the house was located at the far corner of the base-zone, an area designated for retirees, senior staff and commanding officers. More secluded from the rest of the on-base military housing.
“Are you coming?” Dale asked.
The young soldier shook his head. “My job is done. I don’t want to know what the Major General is working on.” He turned and walked away.
Jimmy said, “He doesn’t want to know, or is better off not knowing?”
They drove through the base grounds, which looked just like a small community. Well-kept houses were lined in rows, with lawns mowed to equal length, mothers walked babies, and a team of teenage boys threw balls against a baseball backstop.
A half-drawn shade in the window moved as they rolled the vehicle into a gravel driveway of a single-story white-stucco house, flanked by six-foot ferns. Two camo-clad guards perched outside the front door straightened when the detectives got out of the car.
An older looking gentleman, in casual street clothes, jeans and a red hoodie, opened the bullet-proof glass storm door and walked out onto the front veranda.
“At ease, Gentlemen,” he said to the two guards.
He proceeded down the steps and approached Dale and Jimmy, who headed up the walk towards the house. Dale could smell sweat and booze seeping from the Major’s pores as the man got closer to them. His eyes were red and a bit glazed over, and he hadn’t shaved.
Kennedy reached out his hand. “Detectives Dayton and Mason?”
Dale was the first to shake his hand. “Major General Kennedy, I’m Detective Dayton. This is Detective Mason.”
Jimmy shook hands also.
“Please, come in.”
Kennedy turned and led them into the house. The door guards saluted, stone-faced and poised for action.
The inside of the home was plain, dated, never upgraded but immaculate, with military precision. It looked like the floor was still covered in original carpeting, worn thin, and the furniture had been reupholstered more than once.
“Don’t take your shoes off,” Kennedy said. “We’re going into the backyard.”
Kennedy led them through the living room where the sole furniture was a lazy boy chair with cigarette burns and a worn wing chair sandwiching a small antique nightstand with a remote control and an open crossword book on top. A bubble TV was set up in the corner of the room on a scratched night table and a dead potted-plant sat lifeless on the floor.
They entered an even older-styled, closed-in kitchen. A half-bottle of scotch sat opened on the counter beside an empty blue ice cube tray.
Without a word, the Major General stopped at the old, off-white refrigerator and opened the freezer. He removed an ice tray, flipped it onto the counter and shook out three cubes. He clinked the cubes into a dirty glass and followed it with a generous portion of rich-smelling, dark-brown scotch.
He didn’t offer them a drink.
They exited the house through the kitchen and entered a one hundred square foot, fenced-in backyard. The grass was starting to brown and die. A crooked picnic table, needing a fresh coat of paint, took up space in the middle of the area. A tire on a chain swung from a branch and looked oddly out of place. The backyard ended at a forest of trees, widely spaced and see-through.
They heard the door slam shut behind them and turned to find that one of the guards had followed them out back.
“Oh yeah,” Kennedy said. “I forgot I’m supposed to tell them every time I go outside.”
Kennedy looked like he was growing tired of the twenty-four/seven supervision. He must have seen Dale eyeing the tire-swing because he said, “I put that up after our first grandchild was born. Not much use for it now, since my children never visit.”
Dale and Jimmy stood outside the house, watching Kennedy limping across the yard. He eased his way with old bones, cautiously, as if each movement caused pain.
They followed at a distance, their backs to the house and the guard who had followed them out back.
Kennedy sat down on one side of the picnic table and looked at the detectives. Prominent lines etched around eyes that looked to be full of knowledge, and could teach a youngster much about the faults of the world.
“Those walls have ears,” Kennedy said, nodding towards the house.
He didn’t have to tell Dale.
The retired military head pulled a piece of paper out of the pocket of his hoodie. “I believe you came for this.”
“What is it?” Dale asked.
A long silence ensued. Kennedy looked around his property.
“Marjorie hated this place, hated living here. Hell, I don’t like it much myself. Our plan was to move off base after I retired, buy a house in the country, maybe a hobby farm.”
“What happened to her?” Dale asked, even though he eyed the paper in the Major General’s hand.
“The doctors said the tumor was inoperable.” He stopped, as if composing himself or to keep from breaking down.
“I’m sorry.”
Kennedy nodded.
“Why’d you stay?”
Kennedy shrugged his shoulders. “I’m approaching seventy in the fast lane, didn’t see the point. The military is my life, my family, I never really retired. Why move off base when I have everything I need right here?”
Dale had pinned Kennedy for early sixties, maybe sixty-five tops. He moved slower than he probably once had, but he still looked to be in incredible physical shape, other than the worry lines around his eyes, and his sagging cheeks.
“Did Troy use the American Cancer Society excuse at the checkpoint?”
“Yeah,” Jimmy said.
“They never question that. They don’t believe I should be working, doing anything involved with the military. So, I let them think I’m just a volunteer fundraiser since Marjorie’s death. It makes them feel better not to know the truth.”
“What’s with the guards?” Dale asked, still looking at the paper and hoping this would also draw Kennedy’s attention to it and get him back on track.
Kennedy smiled. “Precaution. Ever since the Hughes’ incident, the base has doubled up on security, especially with us old guys. This base, and the entire military, is now at its highest state of alert since nine-eleven.”
Kennedy became silent. He sat and gazed into the sky, as if contemplating life like a philosopher.
Dale and Jimmy stood and waited, watching Kennedy. The sunlight caught the silver in his hair and he reminded Dale of a college professor he once had who used to sit on a campus bench between classes, staring out into the distance, thinking of everything and nothing all at the same time.
Dale started to feel uncomfortable. A dry heat hung in the air, and since they weren’t in the shade, the sun basked down on them, dampening his shirt. He rolled back and forth on the balls of his feet, waiting for the retired vet
eran to speak. He wasn’t sure how Kennedy could handle the temperature in a heavy sweatshirt.
Finally, he couldn’t wait any longer. “Why are we here, Major General Kennedy? And what is that paper in your hand?”
Kennedy took a drink and pressed the glass to his cheek. When he set it down, he said, “What do you know about the Derek Baxter situation?” He gazed off in the distance again as he spoke.
Dale looked at Jimmy, who raised his eyebrows.
Dale said, “As much as Hughes told us.”
Kennedy finally looked at Dale, and Dale felt small from the Major’s penetrating eyes. The detective was sure that many young, new recruits had fallen under the Major General’s spell because of his tense stare.
“How much did Hughes tell you?”
“By your voice on the phone when you called, I sensed you didn’t know about Baxter,” Dale said.
The Major’s face grew sharp and serious. “I might be retired, but I know everything that happens on my base, with my platoon. I just didn’t know how much the Colonel had told you and I didn’t want to divulge further information.”
“Baxter is a rogue soldier who suffers from severe mental exhaustion, a former marine sniper who went off the grid. He became an assassin for hire who enjoyed killing.”
Dale went on to tell Kennedy everything he knew about Baxter from reading the marine’s bio and credentials, from the man’s war tours, to his achievements and accolades, to the high-priority warrant sworn out against him.
Kennedy took another drink, this time draining the rest of the booze that was left in the glass. “That’s almost everything.”
Dale looked at Jimmy, who seemed to have also caught it. He looked back at Kennedy.
“Almost?”
Kennedy looked into Dale’s eyes. The mood was incredibly intense in that tiny, bush-hidden back yard. He dumped out all but one of the mostly-melted ice cubes onto the grass.
“What do you know about the symbol you investigated?”
Jimmy said, “I know it was damn hard to find out about. The websites were impenetrable.”