by CW Browning
“Not at all,” Damon answered agreeably, following her down the side of the house toward the backyard. “What have you got from the house so far?”
“Not much,” Stephanie answered. “The house is owned by a Joseph Greene, but he's been renting it out for years. The current lease is actually being held by a company in New York as temporary living for re-locating employees. We're checking with them. There were two people living here and no sign of female clothing. They never used the kitchen, lots of take-out containers. No desktop computers and no laptops. But there is a wireless router and an ISP box, so the laptop must be with the roommate. There were some atlases of Pennsylvania, Jersey, and Delaware. Other than that, nothing too spectacular. They were careful.”
They came to the edge of the backyard and Damon found the entire backyard awash with white light from multiple spotlights. Several agents were milling around, going over the entire yard carefully. The body itself was impossible to miss. It was hanging from a tree in the center of the yard, each wrist tied up and secured to a thick branch, stretching the arms out tautly. The feet were hanging a good three feet from the ground. The throat had been cut and, judging by the enormous pool of blood on the grass, the body was left to bleed out.
“Not very pretty,” Stephanie said after a moment.
“Not very, no.” Damon started to move forward, then paused. “Is it safe to go this way?” he asked, motioning a path to the body.
Stephanie nodded.
“Yes. We've finished with this side of the yard,” she replied, walking behind him.
Damon nodded and moved toward the body. It was facing the neighbor’s yard to the right, and a quick glance told him that the neighbors had a clear view from their deck. He moved forward carefully, his eyes scanning the yard briefly. A metal waist-high fence surrounded the yard and thick boxwoods ran the length of the fence to the left side. At the end of the garden, two more tall old oak trees, similar in size and age to the one supporting the body, loomed out of the growing darkness. The rest of the yard was neglected and what grass there was grew in patches. It was a tired looking yard, in need of care and attention. And now, it was in need of a priest.
Damon turned his attention to the body. He was aware of the medical examiner and his assistant, with their vinyl bag and heavy plastic sheet, waiting a few feet away. Stephanie motioned to them as he approached and they stood to the side, watching. Hawk stopped outside the pool of blood on the grass and looked up into the discolored face of the corpse.
A strange mixture of relief and uneasiness swept through him. The face hanging at an odd angle was not the face of Johann Topamari. Pulling out his phone, he snapped a picture of the face before stepping away. He nodded to the medical examiners and turned away. Stephanie watched as he typed into his phone quickly.
“I'll see what my people say,” Damon said, looking up when he was done.
Stephanie nodded and watched as the examiner positioned the plastic sheet and his assistant positioned a ladder.
“How on earth did they get him up there?” she wondered out loud.
Hawk glanced up.
“It wouldn't be hard if he was partially drugged,” he said. “Your tox screen will tell you. If he was drugged, but not unconscious, a strong man or two average men could have got him up there. The neighbors didn't see anything?”
“No.” Stephanie turned and walked with him back toward the house. “They were away and just got back this evening. The husband walked outside and saw him. He called the police, who called me once they got here and saw the body. Thankfully, the senior investigator recognized it as similar to a description we sent out.”
“I don't think it’s Johann,” Damon told her as they reached the corner of the house and started toward the front. “But, of course, I'll wait and see what my people say.”
Stephanie looked at him sharply.
“How can you know?” she demanded quickly.
Damon met her searching glance with a smile.
“I'm afraid I have a little more information as to his appearance then you apparently do,” he answered blandly. “But I'm not going to trust my memory. I'll let someone else take the heat on this one,” he added with a wink.
Stephanie pursed her lips and was silent.
Alina finished her initial scan of the light-flooded yard and directed her military binoculars to the figure strung up from the branch of the tree. She was balanced comfortably in the fat upper limbs of a maple tree a few houses down, in a backyard opposite from Johann's. The beacon of light a few houses away was impossible to miss. She took note of the scurrying agents and her lips twitched slightly when Damon and Stephanie come into the backyard. Damon was striding as if he owned the yard, and Stephanie was matching him stride for stride. Two egos unconsciously competing. Watching them would have been humorous if she didn't have a body, literally, swaying in the breeze.
Alina focused on the corpse, her heart thumping. As much as she tried to repress it, a mixed bag of emotions was flooding over her. Her hand shook ever so slightly as she adjusted the focus on the binoculars and started to zoom in on the face, apprehension making her fingers move more slowly than normal. A million thoughts flooded her mind, as they had been since Hawk told her on the deck that Stephanie thought she had Johann's body. Who had beat her to him? And why? And how? How could she possibly have failed a second time? Was Johann turning out to be her unicorn, impossible to catch? Washington had been quite clear about the ramifications if she should fail a second time. This was her atonement mission; her chance to correct a mistake on an otherwise flawless resume.
Viper zoomed in on the face of the body hanging lifelessly from the oak tree. Her brain registered the slit throat and approximate angle of the killer’s knife even as she recognized the face. Relief washed through her instantly, followed almost immediately by utter shock. Alina dropped the binoculars around her neck just as her phone vibrated against her thigh. She mindlessly reached into her cargo pocket and pulled out the smartphone, swiping the screen. Glancing down, she found herself staring at a close-up of the face she had just seen. Hawk had added one line to the photo.
Is this Johann's associate?
Viper lifted her eyes back to the brightly-lit yard. A cold numbness stole through her body, starting in the pit of her gut. The discolored, lifeless face was indeed that of the associate that Johann had brought back from Canada. It was also the face of his brother.
Alina knew, without a doubt, that Johann would never harm a member of his family.
Viper stared unseeingly at the beacon of light down the block. Her mind was a swimming jumble of half-thoughts and instinctual knowledge, almost paralyzing her as her heart pounded and her breath came quick and shallow. She allowed the thoughts and emotions to run riot for a full minute before she slowly and intentionally took a long, deep breath. Her heart skipped a few beats in protest, but she took another long, slow breath. Alina closed her eyes, blocking out the artificial white light, and took another deep breath. She concentrated on the fresh smell of the new spring leaves that surrounded her and the mustiness of the bark that she leaned against.
Slowly, she forced all thought out of her mind and her heartbeat gradually returned to normal. The numbing sensation that had consumed her started to fade away slowly. Viper allowed herself a few seconds to embrace the sensation of floating high above the ground before she allowed thought to come back into her mind. This time, the thoughts were ordered and rational. She opened her eyes, seeing clearly what her mind had grasped as soon as she saw the face on the corpse.
Someone was systematically taking out Johann's entire network with the intention of ending with Johann himself. It wasn't Johann tying up loose ends. It was someone else. And they clearly knew more than Alina did right now.
Alina lifted the binoculars again and watched as the medical examiner cut the body down. Adjusting the focus, she slowly began to examine every tree, every yard, every street, and every sidewalk within viewing distance, looking
for any sign of surveillance. Within seconds she zoomed in on the front of a vehicle, partially hidden from view by a house, parked a block or so away from Johann's. It was the front end of a black Bronco.
She dropped the binoculars back around her neck and quickly answered Hawk's message before lowering herself to a bottom limb and dropping noiselessly out of the tree. Viper took off at a run, darting out of the yard and into the next one under the cover of the growing darkness, away from Johann's house. She had surveyed the neighborhood enough in the past twenty-four hours to know that she could loop around and come up to the Bronco from the rear in a matter of minutes. She knew that she would find it was the same Bronco from this afternoon. A calm focus took hold of her as Viper hopped a metal fence and ran swiftly along a row of rhododendrons, disappearing into the night.
Damon and Stephanie emerged into the front yard just as John was stepping out of the house. He handed a couple of evidence bags to a young woman and waved to them.
“I'm still waiting to hear on that ID from the lab,” he said, meeting them.
Stephanie nodded.
“Mr. Peterson sent it to his people too,” she said.
John looked at Damon.
“And?” he asked.
Damon grinned.
“Still waiting,” he replied.
“Mr. Peterson doesn't think it’s Johann,” Stephanie told John as the trio walked slowly toward the road.
John glanced at Damon.
“Do you know what he looks like?” he asked sharply.
Damon gave him the same answer he had given Stephanie.
“I have some additional information,” he answered. “But I'm waiting for confirmation.”
John was silent for a second before he stopped walking.
“Well, if it's not your terrorist, then your job is done here,” John said.
Stephanie groaned.
“John, your tactfulness is outstanding,” she muttered. “I hope you don't take that the wrong way, Damon. John isn't known for his social graces.”
Damon laughed easily.
“Not at all,” he assured her. “He's right. If it's not my terrorist, I'll be out of your hair.”
John watched him through sleepy eyes.
“You'll probably be glad to get back to Washington in time for the weekend,” he commented, encountering a laughing look from Damon's sharp blue eyes.
“Oh, I might stick around for a little while yet,” Damon answered with an easy smile. “I'm getting re-acquainted with an old friend.”
John's eyes narrowed slightly and Stephanie's ears perked up.
“Oh? You ran into an old friend here?” she asked.
Damon nodded, reaching into his pocket as his phone chirped.
“Yes. Someone I knew a few years ago,” he told her, looking down at his phone. “It's been nice to touch base with her again,” he added, allowing his voice to fade away in the manner of someone who has been distracted by what he was reading.
Damon saw John's jaw clench out of the corner of his eye and his lips twitched ever so slightly. John was easier to read then a book and Damon realized that he was thoroughly enjoying himself. Then his eyes focused on the brief message on his phone.
Yes. Meet you back at the house. Off to the races.
Damon frowned at the phrase he hadn't heard since those long-ago days at the training facility. Viper was going after something. Or someone.
Damon wasn't amused any longer. His first instinct was to go find her, but he immediately acknowledged the irrationality of that thought. He had no idea where she was or what she was after. His only course of action was to do as she said and go back to the house and wait. Hawk acknowledged the irony of being concerned for Viper's safety even as he tucked the phone back into his pocket. This sudden feeling of helplessness was completely foreign to him.
“Bad news?” John asked. Damon looked up. John and Stephanie were both looking at him with concern. “You look like you want to shoot someone,” John added.
Damon forced himself to smile slightly.
“Not good news, I'm afraid,” he answered. “Your body isn't Johann Topamari, but it is one of his associates,” Damon told them. He looked at John with a slight grin that he mustered up from somewhere. “Sorry, John. You're stuck with me for a little longer.”
“Who is it?” Stephanie asked, stepping out of the way as some agents passed by with more evidence from the house.
“I should have a name by the morning. They don't want to commit without running through some more databases,” Damon answered. “But you were right about the distinctive mark on his face. It is hard to mistake it.”
“Johann did that to one of his associates?” John mused out loud. “That doesn't make any sense.”
“It does if he's tying up loose ends,” Stephanie said.
“I don't buy it,” John shook his head. “I don't see him taking out his entire network.”
Stephanie leaned up against the coroner’s van at the curb. She looked like she was settling in for a long debate.
“Ok. Why?” she asked John simply.
John shrugged and stood with his legs apart, balancing his weight as he stared at the sky thoughtfully.
“Why would he?” he said. “Building a network takes months, if not years, especially in the States. So why would he dismantle it now? Nothing in his file indicates any prior tendency toward suicide missions. And if he was about to commit a terrorist act, which we have absolutely no indication that he is, then why take out his entire network? It just doesn't make sense.”
“So, let’s say, for the sake of argument, that he is about to launch an attack of some sort,” Stephanie said, crossing her arms and leaning her head back against the van.
Both of them seemed oblivious now to Damon's presence as he watched them curiously. Was this really how Feds worked? One leaning on a coroner’s van and the other staring off into the sky? Despite himself, Hawk was fascinated. He was trained to think while moving. Never stop moving. If you couldn't think and move at the same time, you were dead. At this rate, he wouldn't be surprised if these two sat down for a cup of coffee and a Danish.
“And, let's say, he built his network with the intention of dismantling it once he had launched his attack,” Stephanie continued. “That would explain why he used a low-rung arms dealer and a has-been mobster.”
“And that made sense when it was just them,” John agreed. “But now we have an associate that doesn't fall into the category of 'disposable local asset.' That body is one of them.”
“One of them?” Stephanie grinned.
John shrugged.
“You know what I mean,” he retorted. “It's of middle-eastern descent.”
“I do feel obligated to point out that not all terrorists are of middle-eastern descent, nor is everyone of middle-eastern descent a terrorist,” Stephanie said mildly.
John stopped staring at the sky and rolled his eyes.
“Are we going to discuss semantics or the matter at hand?” John asked politely.
Damon chuckled despite himself.
“I think she's just trying to be socially diverse,” he told John with a grin.
“So what you're trying to say is....” Stephanie went back to John's train of thought. “Johann built a network mixed with both local assets and trusted associates from his home country. And, while he may have planned to eliminate the local part of his network, you can't buy into him taking out his own countrymen? Is that about the gist of it?”
“Right.” John nodded.
Stephanie straightened away from the side of the van as the medical examiner came into view, manning one end of the gurney carrying the topic of conversation.
“Ok.”
She stepped back onto the sidewalk and the three of them watched the progress of the gurney silently.
Damon was grudgingly impressed with how quickly John had rejected the idea that Johann would have done that to his own kin. As soon as he had seen that the corpse wasn't Jo
hann, Hawk realized that someone else was methodically eliminating Johann's network. But John had instinctively grasped what Hawk knew only from Vipers research. Damon felt he could almost start to like the man. Almost. He wondered what Alina would say when he told her how quick on his feet her ex was turning out to be.
Damon again felt that almost overwhelming need to leave and find her. He frowned.
“What if...”
Stephanie's thought was lost in the sudden, deafening roar of an explosion.
Damon acted on sheer instinct, grabbing Stephanie and throwing them both unceremoniously to the trembling ground. He twisted his head to see flames shoot high above the rooftops one street over.
Chaos instantly erupted. Screams could be heard coming from all over the neighborhood and police started running in the direction of the flames. Damon jumped up, his heart pounding and blood rushing in his ears. He had only one thought: Viper.
“You stay with her!” he shouted to John over the noise, pointing to Stephanie.
John nodded and started shouting instructions to agents around them. Their priority was the crime scene and, as Damon ran down the street to come up on the scene of the explosion from the rear, he heard senior agents shouting instructions to secure the crime scene and evidence.
Hawk reached into his back holster as he ran, unsnapping the catch and pulling out his gun. His eyes scanned the area as he went, looking for signs of Viper and anything, or anyone, that didn't belong. He ran through the side yard of a dark house and emerged onto the next street behind the roaring blaze.
The heat from the flames stopped him in his tracks and Damon threw up an arm to shield his face, his breath catching in his chest painfully as he stared at the massive ball of flames. At the base was a twisted mass of metal that once was an SUV. The flames, that only seconds before had been over three stories high, had lowered already to a manageable size, but the heat pouring from the wreckage told him that a military-grade accelerant had been used. He looked around almost frantically as police officers on the other side of the fire started shouting orders to each other.