“Yea, it’s what I want.”
When they got to Lew’s house they both stood on the porch and after ringing the buzzer they both stood close and looked up at the camera and smiled mockingly. They heard the buzz that meant they could push the metal door open and come in. Through the maze of stacked electronic equipment into the kitchen Lew waited at the Formica topped sixties kitchen table. He looked for Harper walking behind Faxon and smiled when he saw her with a large bag of groceries, and a twelve pack of beer in her other hand. Lew pointed to a thick file lying on the counter beside an old drip coffee maker as he looked through the bag to see what Harper had brought him this time. He was somewhat agoraphobic and never went out having everything delivered to his door.
“Please don’t do anything to make her leave you,” Lew said. “I put the files in my own order so let me start with the first one. The three guys that were shot in the warehouse down on the docks at inner harbor, all three men had been arrested in New York for hijacking semi-trucks before. They all served in the Marines overseas and they all served in the same company, E- Company, or also called, Echo Company. I know I’m skipping around but it’s my method.”
Faxon handed the file he was looking at to Harper.
“The man’s name you recently gave me, Turin Holmes, he was in the service, marines, for twelve years, reached the rank of Major, and was also in, E- Company, he served overseas and was implicated in a robbery of a Jewish temple, but not convicted. Two men under his command were found guilty of the crime, the stolen gold and jeweled artifacts were never recovered.”
“Now Ensign Jessie Walker died in a head on car crash,” Lew stopped for a minute and noticed Harper staring at him hanging on his every word. “He was a drug addict and an alcoholic. He was four times the legal limit for alcohol at the time of the crash. He was also under the influence of heroine. His wife and two daughters lived in public housing and were nearly starving to death, and that was in a report by a local social services representative I dug up. After the crash they disappeared. Ensign Walker served in the Marines for six years, and was in Echo Company. His commanding officer was Major Turin Holmes.”
“Richard Mathis also was in E-company, and served under Major Turin Holmes, and cell phone records prove that he had spoken to someone at an address in an office building where an office is leased by the Marine Group.”
“I was able to hack the Marine Group’s system three different times, each time I had to back out because they were getting to close to finding out who was hacking their system, their good. I got a partial list of members, and Turin Holmes was on that list. The Marine Group also employ’s ex-marines to serve as security, body guards, and specialist, for Arabic clients overseas,” Lew finished.
“I also have a list of service men that were in Echo Company that are located along the east coast and a list of specialist that served. There’s four snipers, but only two in the Boston area, and only one entry specialist, Ensign Ronald Beale. He’s working for a gun shop that has a contract to ship arms to a Saudi named Kasam Rashid Kolmani, listed as CEO of the Marine group.”
“Ok, all of these guys were all in Echo Company, that could be anywhere from 80 to 250 men, but we can eliminate anyone not on the east coast. We know Turin Holmes was a member of the Marine Group and was killed because he couldn’t resist going after Harper. We can find the entry specialist that killed Martin Samuels, and we can probably find the sniper that killed Parker Doss.”
“And my horse,” Harper said. “In the attempt to kill me, nearly killing my friend Kate, we also know someone must have taken care of Ensign Walker’s wife and daughters after he volunteered to kill my parents. We need to find them.”
“Is there anything else Lew, anything we should know that we didn’t talk about, any special insights,” Faxon asked?
“There’s men at the top of this Marine Group that are pulling the strings, rich men, men with influence, so much so that they can compel men that served under them to commit murder and die if they’re found out. They had to have been commanding officers, in E-Company, and it’ll be difficult to find anybody that would testify against them.”
“Then they’ll just have to die,” Harper said.
Faxon and Lew looked at Harper, she didn’t look like a killer, but they both knew she was serious. They left Lew’s house and drove back toward the city without much conversation.
“Stop at that new car dealer we passed on the way out here,” she said. “Unless you know of a particular dealer or model you prefer.”
“It’s your car, it’s your choice, that dealer only has expensive foreign cars.”
“I’ve always wanted a Porsche, I like that new SUV.”
“Damn thing cost as much as a house,” he said.
When they got to the dealer Harper walked into the show room, and into the manager’s office.
“How long will it take you to prepare a black Porsche Cayenne loaded with everything, full of gas, with a tag and title, it’ll be a cash transfer.”
“Thirty minutes Ma’am,” the man said.
Harper called the bank and arranged the cash transfer and thirty minutes later she was following Faxon back to the small apartment. She parked in the garage where Ronald McFarland kept his car collection.
“So how do we find Linda Walker and her two daughters, Katie and Mindy,” Harper asked as they walked up the back stairs. “They have to go to school somewhere, and Linda Walker would have to file taxes.”
“There’s vehicle registrations voting rolls, social security, census, but we don’t know where to look. If we have to search half the country that could take time, and then we don’t know that she’ll help us. Just to get a name we might already have.”
“Ok Mr. private detective, who do we go after first?” She got them both a beer and they sat down on the couch, the difference today was she sat close. Her legs tucked under her and one arm around his shoulders.
“We track the shooter, the sniper, we have two names, we find them and follow them, when we believe we got our guy we wait till he’s gone and get in. Find information, or his rifle. Believe me these guys name the damn things, it’ll be in his bedroom guaranteed. We match the bullet then we’ve got our guy.”
“I hate this couch,” she said, “let’s buy another one. Take me out tonight, I don’t feel like cooking, and I don’t want Shepard’s pie either, let’s have Italian.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The next morning Faxon sat at the small table and read the files Lew had put together, it was all the available information that concerned the two marine snipers that lived in the Boston area. Harper had fried some sausage and added it to the scrambled eggs with some sharp cheddar cheese. Then she set a plate in front of Faxon with a cup of black coffee just the way he liked it, strong. Harper sat down and had a plate with a smaller portion she drank her coffee the same way.
“This is good, but you’re making me fat.”
“I’m glad you brought that up, I’m used to working out, you’re a distraction, a good distraction but still we should both be working out. You have a place you go to around here? I don’t mean a spin class where you go to look at the girl’s asses. I need a free weight gym, maybe somewhere that has martial arts training. If you want I can find us a place?”
“I’ve been going to a gym you’ll approve of, maybe later today, and you’re the distraction,” he said. “Listen to this,” Faxon ate and read from the files on the two snipers. “Lucan Lane, ex-marine, lives in Boston and he has an apartment address, list his employment as a stock trader, married and has a ten year old son. Our other guy, Race Thorpe, employed as a machinist working at a shop just outside of town, doesn’t list his address, now as a private detective which one is our guy?”
“Very funny, so this is the son of a bitch that killed my horse, trying to kill me,” Harpers face was red, she was instantly angry. “I guess it just became real. So we go to his work and follow him.”
“Yea, we follow h
im. Listen I know you’re angry, but we have to do this my way, to tell the truth you scare me sometimes. You can’t let your emotions get in the way. We need this guy to testify against his superiors, the ones in charge, they’re the ones were after.”
“I get it Faxon,” Harper spoke with sharpness. She got up and went to get dressed.
In a few minutes they were going down the back stairs and crossing the street to the garage. Faxon walked beside Harper, she carried the bag with the guns.
“Here,” Harper threw Faxon a set of keys to the new SUV, “you drive, and keep them, it came with two sets.”
“Why don’t you drive, it’s your car,” Faxon said.
“Does that mean you won’t ever drive the damn thing?”
“No, I’ll drive. Damn you’re cranky, are you short because of your woman time of the month thing?”
“Don’t ever say that again.”
Faxon adjusted the seat and mirrors and started the car.
“If we go to gym and they have a mat, I am so gonna make you pay for that,” She looked over at him as they drove. “I’m sorry, we ok?”
“Yea we’re ok. You’re going to have to put in the address to that machinist shop in the GPS. It’s out in Brookline. Wow this Porsche has really got the power doesn’t it?”
Harper used the GPS in the SUV and they found Smith’s Machine Shop. It was well off the beaten path. It had a large rollup door that was open but as they drove by they didn’t see anyone through the opening. There were three old cars that obviously hadn’t run in a long time parked in the driveway and a large metal rack with metal pipe, angle iron, and steel rods stacked on it. The only vehicle that looked like it would run was a 1975, GMC pickup that had rusted out rear quarter panels.
“Were going to have to park somewhere and then walk back to see if he’s there,” Faxon said.
“Can’t we just go in and look for him,” she asked?
“None of my fake ID’s will work here, cable man, electric company, gas, I just don’t know what I’d say if I went in. We don’t want to spook this guy. There’s a grocery store, let’s park there.”
They parked the SUV and walked back down the road and before they got to where the shop was Faxon led Harper off the road into a field. They were able to get within fifty feet of the side of the building.
“I brought a GPS tracker if I can sneak over and put it on that pickup truck we can go back to the car and wait for it to move.”
Faxon made his way over to the old truck and reached up under, he attached the magnet on the inside of the front fender. He made his way back to Harper and they walked back to the car. Faxon used his hand held locator from his bag and sat back and waited. At 4:10 pm the GPS locator showed movement. The old truck was moving away from them but he quickly caught up. They stayed back so they didn’t look like they were following. From that far away they couldn’t tell who was driving, they didn’t know what he looked like but they knew his age.
The truck pulled off the road and started down a dirt lane, there were three mail boxes out by the road, so Faxon followed. Harper had the binoculars out and was looking at the truck as it turned in.
Faxon stopped, “can you see from here?”
Harper looked at the house. It was an old frame home with peeling green paint there was a porch with a rocking chair and a small table next to it.
“I can see him, he’s getting out, shit Faxon it’s an old bald guy, must be Mr. Smith.”
“Let’s get back and see if the door is open, he could still be there.”
They drove back leaving the GPS locator, and the large roll up door was closed. They kept driving, going past the shop back toward the grocery store, and then they saw a guy walking along the road. He wore a pair of dirty jeans and military style boots he had on a long sleeved flannel shirt. After they went past Harper looked back at him with the binoculars.
“Look at his hands,” Faxon said, “does he have greasy hands, you know dirty?”
“Yea he does, he’s about the right age too, it’s him,” she said.
They parked back at the grocery store in a spot where they could see him walking their way. In the same strip center with the grocery store was a small bar, the name on the window was Tom’s. They watched Race Thorpe walk through the front door.
“Ok what the hell do we do now,” Harper asked? “This guy might stay here a while. I’m just shaking Faxon, being this close to the guy that shot my horse, and I’m not forgetting about that old man in Boston.”
“Let’s think about this for a minute, we could hang around and wait him out, see where he goes. We could go in there, have a few beers maybe have something to eat, take the chance he doesn’t see you staring at him, or you losing it and stabbing him in the neck. He wasn’t driving and his only address was the machine shop, he could be living there, a room in the back or something. If he lives there then the rifles there, I’d have to get in, shouldn’t be hard, find the rifle, should be near where he sleeps. Then find his ammo, should be with the rifle, and shoot a round off, and be able to retrieve the bullet. Then get out of there before he comes back, and then put everything back the way it was so he doesn’t know anyone fired the rifle.”
“Do it,” she said. “This is our chance.”
“Are you going to be able to do this? You’re going to have to go in there, play something loud on the jute box, and turn it up if you can. Play pool or something, and buy the bar a round, maybe more than one you have to keep him here, and try not to kill him. You’ve got your burner phone if he leaves call me. And wipe that make up off, keep your hat on, you don’t want to look too good.”
Harper had never been so nervous, she got out and Faxon drove toward the machine shop. She had her 9mm Walther PPK in the back of her pants. When she walked through the door it was dark and it took a few minutes for her eyes to adjust. She wore her hat pulled down low over her eyes but it was obvious to the bartender and the six guys sitting at the bar this was a woman. She saw Race Thorpe down at the far end with a beer in front of him.
“What can I get for you sweetie,” the bar tender asked?
Harper coughed and ordered a domestic draft beer, then sat down away from the men. Two guys in there fifties sat next to each other. They whispered then laughed. She put a twenty on the bar in front of her and asked for some change. There was a jute box against the wall just like Faxon had said, and she put five dollars in quarters in it and played several different country music songs. Harper looked around on the floor after dropping a quarter and saw the volume adjustment just around the back. An older man said something about liking the music she chose when she sat down.
“Bartender a round for the house,” she put another twenty down, and everyone thanked her. Race lifted his glass.”
Faxon picked the padlock on the side walk-through door, it was the only entry door they used, and it probably was the one Race Thorpe went in and out of. Inside it didn’t take long for him to find a small room in the back, there was a single bed against the wall, a lamp, and a television on a stand next to a fan. Old car parts and motorcycle parts were everywhere, and Faxon looked in the most obvious place, under the bed. There was a gun case, he pulled it out and set it on the bed and opened it. There it was a Remington customized M40a3 with a scope, and a suppressor, with two boxes of shells, 7.62x51mm written on the box.
He called Harper’s cell phone, “I found the gun.” She wanted to say something but the fact was he had found the rifle, and it was the right one, this had to be him.
“Fuck you ass hole.” She hung up the cell phone and put it in her front pocket. When she turned back around she yelled another round for the house.”
“You got the money girl?” Asked the bar tender.
She put two more twenties down on the bar.
“I guess you got the money,” he said.
“Not my money, it’s that ass holes money,” she yelled, and everyone laughed.
* * *
Faxon put a round in t
he chamber and locked the bolt, out back there was an empty grease barrel full of water, he could fire the rifle into the water and he’d be able to reach into the barrel and retrieve the bullet. He’d be wet but it would be worth it. When he was done he took the time to clean the rifle and put everything back the way it was. He drove back down the road to the shopping center and parked away from the front, then called Harper. In a few minutes she jumped into the SUV, shaking with excitement.
“You got it,” she asked? “Why are you wet?”
“Yea I got it, I fired the rifle into a barrel of water so I could reach in and get it,” Faxon handed the bullet to Harper.
“And it was a Remington, just like the one the lab said fired the round,” she asked?”
“Yea, it was a modified Remington M40a3, military issue, he’s our guy.”
Harper through her arms around Faxon’s neck and kissed him, he nearly ran off the road, she sat back holding the bullet in her right hand looking at it, but she still held his hand on the console.
On the way back they talked about what they would have for dinner, they stopped and got Chinese food and took it back to the small apartment. Harper put the small bottle with the bullet from her horse beside the bullet Faxon had discharged from the rifle. Then sat on the couch beside him, the late night news was on, and Harper was exhausted from the adrenaline and excitement of the day. She leaned her head against his shoulder.
“It was so weird being that close to a real killer, he never said more than thanks for the beer. He killed Mr. Doss from several hundred yards away, no telling how far away he was when he shot my horse on the run. He must be an incredible marksman, and I’d love nothing more than to see him dead. But that wouldn’t get the man that gave the order to kill my mother and father. I’m tired, every night you wait till I’m asleep before you come into the bedroom. I won’t rape you. I’m still a grieving widow you know,” Harper smiled.
The next morning as usual she was up and breakfast was cooking, the two bullets were still on the table.
FIRST STEP MURDER Page 19