by Ron Walden
“I think you are letting your anger cloud your thinking. Remember that in every var battles are lost. The trick is to know the difference between losing a battle and losing the var. I can send another sortie to attack the pump station. They vill, no doubt, be more cautious. Ve will have to engage their fighters in order to get through to the target.”
“Lianid. You’re right. I am impatient and some facets of our plan haven’t gone according to the timetable. Hold your fighters in place for now. I’ll try to find an employee at the pump station willing to accept a bribe for sabotaging the pumps or valves. This, in fact, may be less costly in the long run.”
Bergstrom hung up the phone and poured another glass of milk from the pitcher on his desk. He sipped the milk then called Talbert.
“Have the cook cut me another piece of that chocolate cake and you bring it in here.”
Talbert was soon in the stylish office. “Yes, sir. What can I do?”
“I am beginning to have a bad feeling about this plan of ours. Too many break downs. Those bastards in Washington are beginning to act as if they have nothing to lose. I wish Al hadn’t got himself killed. I’d send him to Washington to correct that problem. I got word this afternoon that Monday will live. I don’t know how long he is going to keep quiet. Too many things are unraveling, Talbert. We must think of the future.” He wiped the chocolate from his face.
“Go to town with three or four men and pick up all the files that could be incriminating. Destroy all but the essential ones. Try to get the mess down to three or four boxes. We may have to make a move, and I don’t want to leave anything for the Feds to find.”
“I’ll get on it right away, Sir. Is there anything else?”
“Yeah. Have the jet prepared for a long flight…Just in case.”
The police force in Japan is structured quite differently from that of the police in the United States; more like a National Guard than the police. Large personnel vans with water canons on the roof are stationed at strategic locations around the city. Inside each is a contingent of riot police, waiting, in case of trouble. The Tokyo police department has access to huge amounts of manpower at any time.
Hisony and Mastana had instructed the captain in charge of the 100 man contingent to secure the building and especially the underground parking and the helipad on the roof of the Yamamata Business Plaza. Yamamata lived in an apartment occupying the entire top floor. They didn’t want the business tycoon to leave before they could arrest him. The man was rich and intelligent and owned resources not available to most criminals. This was not going to be one of those “Walk in and cuff him” arrests.
As the contingent of security police took their positions, Ito and Oni double checked the building directory for the office of Mr. Yamamata. It was the same as the information they had in the notes; on the 16th floor. The two officers went directly to the security desk and spoke with the officer on duty.
“We are here on official business. Access the executive elevator, please.” Oni said, showing the officer his credentials.
“Of course, Sir. What floor do you want? It must be accessed with a key.”
“The 16th floor. Don’t announce us; we want this to be a surprise,” Ito said, motioning to one of his officers to guard the desk.
Nothing was said on the way up in the elevator until reaching the 14th floor. Here, Oni spoke into his radio. “Is everyone in place?”
Each assigned position reported in quick succession. The elevator stopped smoothly on the 16th floor. Oni nodded to Ito as the doors began to open. This was it. After 2 long years.
The two men stepped from the elevator into a lobby with a desk and receptionist. She seemed surprised when the door opened and the two men stepped into the lobby.
“You must have the wrong floor,” she announced. “How did you get here?”
“We’re on the correct floor,” Ito said. “We want to see Mr. Yamamata. Which of these offices is his?”
“Mr. Yamamata will not be in today. Do you have an appointment with him?”
“This is all the appointment we need,” Ito said, presenting his police identification. “Where is he?”
“I cannot tell you where he is. He does not wish to be disturbed today. Now, please leave?”
“Oni, you look in those offices and have a couple of officers look in the offices on the rest of this floor.”
The receptionist was still complaining when the officers set off to search the offices. The effort was futile. Yamamata was not to be found on this floor.
Oni returned. “He isn’t on this floor, but I think we found his office. There is a large corner office back here with a stairway leading to the next floor. That should be Yamamata’s apartment.”
Ito again turned to the receptionist.
“Is your boss up in his apartment? I want an answer. We’re here to arrest your boss, and if you don’t start cooperating, you’ll be going with him.”
Tears began to well up in the receptionist’s eyes.
“I don’t want to be arrested. It is my job to keep people from bothering him.”
“Okay, okay. Just tell us where he is.”
“He is up in his home. The security officer will have a key to operate the elevator.”
“Thank you,” Oni said. Then turning to the officers. “One of you stay here and keep her off the phone. The other go to Yamamata’s office and stop him if he comes down those stairs.”
The two policemen and the security guard entered the elevator and made their way to the 17th floor. One of the servants met the group. He too, attempted to keep the men from his boss. After identifying themselves as police, the man led the two officers to a large living room. The entire west wall of the room was glass and presented a magnificent view of the moat, walls, and East Garden of the royal palace. The businessman continued staring at the view without acknowledging the presence of the strangers.
“Mr. Yamamata,” Hisony said. “We have been commanded, by the Ministry of Justice, to take you into custody. You are being charged with accessory to murder in the deaths of six technicians from the TMC corporation. I must ask you to come with us, please.”
Yamamata gave no indication he had heard the officer. After several seconds, Mastana stepped directly in front of the man and said, “Did you hear what my partner said, Mr. Yamamata?”
He looked up slowly—then spoke softly. “Yes, I heard. Will you allow me to call my office so I can appoint someone to take my place while I am absent?”
“Of course,” Ito told him.
Going down the elevator, both officers thought how anticlimactic and disappointing this arrest had been. After 2 long and tiring years of investigation, for reasons neither man could understand, the arrest of a major criminal did not bring elation or satisfaction.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Seven AM. John Sutter knocked on the door of the ground floor room at the Desert Sands Motel. “Probably be 105° today,” he thought, looking up at the blue sky with its wisps of white clouds.
Dan answered the door. “Good morning John. Beth ordered breakfast. It should be here any minute.”
“Morning, Dan. How’s the leg this morning?”
“Good. Good. My ankle is sort of stiff, like someone hit me in the lower leg with a baseball bat. I’ll be okay, though. I just won’t be able to run quite as fast for a while. I’m ready to get back to work.”
“Good. Roger will be here this morning with a fist-full of warrants, and I thought the three of us should serve Bergstrom personally.”
The glass doors opened and Beth came in from the patio, an empty coffee cup in her hand. She smiled broadly when she saw John. “Good morning, John. Are you hungry? I ordered you some breakfast.”
“Hi, Beth. Thanks, I can stand a little nourishment. You sure look good this morning. How do you manage to look as if you’ve spent the last few days at pool-side?”
“Easy, I just put on another coat of makeup,” she laughed.
The three frien
ds chatted over breakfast; then, during a second cup of coffee, John looked into Beth’s blackened eyes and said, “My wife will be over here in a little while. I’ve asked her to stay with you today. I’m assigning an officer to the two of you. I don’t think Bergstrom will try anything again, but I want to be certain. We’re going to arrest him this afternoon and it should be over, finished for good.”
“Thank you for your concern, John,” Beth said. “But, well, I can’t explain it, but since that ordeal the other day, I’m not afraid anymore. I don’t know why, I’m just not. I used to get almost hysterical when Dan had to go out on a dangerous job. But since that incident in the desert, I guess I understand better. I’m still apprehensive, but the overwhelming fear is gone. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll still be glad when he is back checking badges at the gate of a pump station.”
“You’re a strong lady, Beth. Oh, did you hear me say Roger and Gwen will be in this afternoon? She’s looking forward to meeting you.”
As the two men stood to leave, Beth said, “You guys be careful.”
It was going to be a busy morning. Larry Felson and Dave Vrobec were called and came to John’s office when they heard about serving warrants. The four men made lists of available resources and manpower. They divided the manpower and supervisory responsibilities as evenly as possible. One team, led by Vrobec, would enter Bergstrom’s downtown offices and seize all files, records, and computers. Felson, would secure the airfield and all outbuildings on Bergstrom’s ranch. John, Dan, and Roger would lead a team to the main house at the ranch and arrest Nels Bergstrom. It seemed too simple.
“Anything we have overlooked?” John asked the men.
“One thing, maybe.”
“What,” John asked.
“We thought we had Al Bates once, and he managed to slip away. I don’t want the same thing to happen with Bergstrom. How about getting Smokey Stover to fly cover in case they decide to jump into the helicopter and run.”
“Good idea. I’ll give him a call and set it up.”
The rest of the morning was spent briefing teams. Each team studied maps and charts. They looked at pictures of Bergstrom and his key personnel. They tried to make plans for every conceivable contingency.
It was almost noon when John and Dan got to the airport. Roger and Gwen had already picked up their luggage and were standing on the sidewalk in front of the terminal building. “You guys look great.” Dan said as they all shook hands. John put their luggage in the trunk.
As the car merged into traffic, Roger asked, “Is everything set?”
“Yes,” Dan answered, “We’re going back to John’s office to meet with Vrobec and Felson. We’ll give Vrobec the warrants you brought for the downtown building. Felson gets the warrants to search the outbuildings and airfield at the ranch. The three of us get the pleasure of serving the warrants on the main house and arresting that fat toad. Everything is in place, so all we have to do synchronize our watches.”
“Sounds like you have it under control. What about Gwen?”
“Gwen, would you run the communications center and keep track of the times on each of these team actions,” John offered.
“That’s good. I was concerned that she might…”
“Hey. I’m sitting right here. Talk to me, not about me. I can say yes or no, ya know.”
“I think you should give her one of those blue FBI windbreakers anyway. She deserves it; she’s part of the team,” Dan squeezed her to him, laughing, thinking of his first windbreaker.
Back at the office, introductions were made and warrants were passed out to the team leaders. A timetable was discussed, and it was agreed that no time should be wasted. The more time they gave Bergstrom the more time he had planning an escape. Estimates of driving and set up times were made, and it was decided the operation would begin at precisely 1430 hours. Each team would get as close as possible but remain discreet until the appointed hour. All three teams would attack simultaneously. Each team leader spent the remaining minutes reading the warrant he was to serve. Too many cases had been lost because the officer did not adhere to the restrictions of a warrant, or they failed to notify the proper individual of the warrant. Search and seizure is probably the most complicated area of law enforcement. No one wanted to lose a case, as important as this one, because he failed to read the warrant he was serving.
Because of the lack of cover, the two teams assigned to the ranch were forced to stop over a mile from their destination. Five vans, six officers in each, were waiting and checking wristwatches. Three vans would move to take control of the airstrip and the buildings near it. The other two vans would drive directly to the front of the main house. Officers would move quickly to surround the main house.
At 1428 hours, John gunned the engine of the lead van, allowing 2 minutes to drive the mile to the farm house and give the other three vans time to reach their objectives by 1430. Dan looked in the rear view mirror just in time to see the Cessna 185 come around the low hills of the river valley; over the road and passing the vans in less than a minute.
As the motorcade reached a fork in the road, the first two vans turned left and stayed high on the low ridge, dust feathered high, as the vehicles raced toward the main gate. The other three vans turned right and descended to the valley floor and the airstrip. The doors on the side of the vans were open now, and officers were standing in the opening waiting to leap out and quickly take their assigned objective.
At exactly 1430 hours the first van stopped in front of two small buildings located a short distance from the main hangar. The second truck stopped at the hangar and men quickly ran inside. The third van had a short drive to a small building several hundred yards down the road. There, two officers jumped out and secured the building. The remaining four drove their van across the airstrip to a small house and two small buildings that looked like equipment sheds on the river bank.
When the two vans reached the paved circle drive of the main house, John and Dan saw the armed man on the porch disappear inside. Dan shouted into the radio, “Be careful, guys. We can see armed guards.”
The van had not completely stopped when the officers began to exit. With military precision, the men surrounded the house and covered the rear patio and pool area. The men at the rear of the house were moving carefully toward the home, checking pool sheds and other small buildings as they went.
On the front porch, Roger stood with his back to the wall next to the front entry door. “Federal officers, we have a warrant to search these premises. Open up. Federal officers. Open up.”
No answer. John took a position in front of the door, kneeling, gun poised to shoot, while Roger tried the knob to see if the door would open. It wouldn’t. Roger backed up a step and gave a healthy kick to the door near the lock. The force shattered the door jam inside, and splintered the casing. The door flew open with such force it hit the wall behind it and swung partially closed again. John pushed the door open slowly and peered inside. Nothing. Roger and Dan stepped inside, guns ready. There were two doors in the hall—one on each side—both closed—as well as an open arch visible at the end of the hall on the left side. Glass doors to the pool were at the far end of the hall.
With Roger on one side of the door and Dan on the other, John entered and began a slow march down the hall. He stopped at the closed door on the right. Dan moved up the hall behind him to cover him while he opened the door. John swung the door open and stepped inside. It was a large office, probably Bergstrom’s. A check was made of the rooms next to the office—nothing.
Back in the hall, Roger stepped across the hall to open the left door while Dan covered him. John moved down the hall toward the archway. Roger opened the door to find another office, smaller than the first, but nice indeed. The two men carefully opened each door in the office. Again nothing.
Turning to leave the room, they heard automatic weapon fire. Two short bursts. Roger quickly poked his head out of the office. Someone was lying, face down, at the end of the ha
ll. One of his officers slowly opening the glass door. He reached inside and gently dragged the fallen man through the open door to the outside of the house.
Roger turned to Dan, “John’s been hit.” He dashed into the hall with Dan on his heels, stopping before reaching the open arch. Roger again took a quick look around the corner and surveyed the room as thoroughly as possible in the instant he had to look. He had glimpsed a large leather couch toward the center of the room, just to the left of the entry.
“There’s cover to the left. Move fast. There’s a door on the other side of the room, to a kitchen, maybe; I think the shooter’s in there,” Roger whispered to Dan.
“I’m with you,” he replied in a low voice.
The two men crouched low, one behind the other, they made a dive for the floor behind the couch. Two shots were heard from the kitchen. Dan jumped up and ran to the open door leading to the next room. He motioned for Roger to follow.
Dan bent low and looked into the room. He could see a glass exit door on the far side. An officer in a blue jacket was outside, trying to get a shot to the inside. A man was using the refrigerator door as a shield and holding what looked like an Uzi.
Dan peeked around the corner, putting his pistol into firing position. “Drop the gun,” he shouted.
The man at the refrigerator instinctively turned to fire. He was too slow. Dan fired two shots, striking the man in the chest. He fell backward against the open refrigerator door, twisting as he fell, his grip on the Uzi squeezing the trigger, spraying the ceiling with random bullets.
The officer outside the door quickly entered and pulled the gun away from the man. He checked for a pulse; then looked at Dan and shook his head. Another officer in a blue jacket entered the kitchen. Roger pointed in the direction of the other two closed doors in the room, “Check them out.”