Operation:UNITY (John Steel series Book 2)

by p s syron-jones

  Tina nodded awkwardly. “Yes. John Steel sent me a print from an accident victim who was on his cruise ship.” Tina could see the veins in McCall’s temple begin to throb in anger.

  “Why did he send it to you and not me?” McCall snapped, hurt that she had been left out of the loop. She suddenly turned to Tony. “Has he sent you anything?” she asked, still angry. “Sorry,” she said, realising that everyone was staring at her. “So what did it come up with? Some dancer? A show girl?”

  Tina shook her head slowly, not really wanting to tell Sam in her present mood. “Dead girl,” Tina replied, getting the confused look she had been expecting.

  “What do you mean, dead girl? What dead girl?”

  Tina paused before she spoke: “You know those false prints we found on Jane Doe?”

  McCall’s mouth fell open. “No, you don’t mean Jane Doe had her prints. But why?” She looked down at her feet as she swung her legs back and forth. She thought hard before finally speaking to them: “Okay, so we have a gun that connects nearly all our victims and a print that connects one of them with Steel’s cruise ship.”

  Tooms could see how her mind was working.

  She looked up suddenly and jumped down from her perch. “Okay, first Tony. You go and see the face makers, see what they can do with the photos of our mystery man. Then get them into circulation.” McCall turned to Tina. “Jane Doe—did you get dental and DNA samples?”

  Tina nodded and pointed with her thumb to her office. “Got them back there under lock and key, why?”

  McCall looked at Tooms. “Tooms, run the print on Steel’s dead girl and any information on Jane Doe through all services including Interpol and MI6, just in case either of them wasn’t from the States. The women are connected somehow. Let’s just hope we find out how.”

  Both men headed for the door.

  “Things have now just got interesting,” announced McCall with a cunning smile.

  “What makes you say that?” Tony asked as he spun round to answer her.

  “Because we are now working the same case.”

  Everyone had left to do their tasks, leaving McCall and Tina alone with the radio still playing tunes from the nineties.

  “How you doing?” McCall asked, sitting back on the table behind her.

  Tina had a sparkle in her eyes. “Well I took your advice and I got some ‘counselling’.”

  McCall gave Tina an enigmatic look. “Too much information, but spill,” she said, laughing like a teenager in a school yard.

  Back at the precinct, the fresh leads had given everyone the boost that they needed. For too long it had seemed as if they were hitting a brick wall in the case, but now that wall was coming down. The four detectives grouped around Tony’s and Tooms’s desks while they worked out their strategy. Each of them had their case files to hand, while Sam stood in front of the blank side of her murder board.

  “Okay,” she began. “So it all started with Jane Doe. She was found on Monday at fifteen hundred hours. Tina puts T.O.D. at around twelve o’clock, midday.”

  McCall had written JD—1200 hrs on the board in blue marker pen.

  “Karen Greene was next. She was mugged in the alleyway at around twelve o’clock, midday.”

  Jenny looked up from her notes in utter surprise. “That can’t be a coincidence, can it?” she asked as she watched McCall go through the notes on Donald Major, and Tooms, then Tony did the same for their cases.

  “Our killer only kills at midday, what he does it on his lunch break?” Tooms yelled, unaware of what he just said. He looked up at Tony and McCall who wore the same look of enlightenment. “Why not? It makes sense really,” Tony added as he watched as McCall’s expression changed to a meaningful one as she rushed to the mobile map board.

  “What’s up, girl?” asked Tooms, wondering where this was going.

  “Donald Major was killed in the 7-Eleven near Alphabet City on East 4th Street.” McCall placed a red pin in the map board then turned to the others. “Uh, Karen Greene was in the alley off Spring Street.” Again, Sam place in a pin in the map. “Okay, next,” she yelled with excitement with a pin at the ready. “Well. Jane Doe was found at the hotel at the junction of Hester Street and Bowery.” She pushed in another pin then grabbed another, her fingers poised ready to insert it. “Bill Foster was at Spruce Street.”

  Tooms threw down his file angrily. “Yeah, and Jon Barr was in Brooklyn Piers. Hell, the only reason we got it was because they didn’t want it, and Barr’s wife complained and she lives in New York.”

  Sam couldn’t help but wonder about something. “This John Barr, did he always work there?”

  Tooms examined his notes and looked up with a blank look on his face, almost as if he had seen a ghost. “No. Actually he worked most of the time abroad. In fact he had just finished some work in the UK, helping to build some ship or something.”

  Sam McCall turned towards Tooms. “So why was he at those docks?”

  Tooms shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he needed the cash?”

  She shook her head, as she looked at the board. “No, there has to be more to it than that. Look. Everyone who has died has been led to this area. Why?”

  Tooms stood up. “Yeah, but Barr was in Brooklyn not New York. Let alone in the area.”

  “Sure he was,” she replied. “It wouldn’t take much to get as close as you could in a boat, take the shot, dump the weapon in the river and be back before someone missed you.” McCall stood back slightly and made an outline with her finger. “Everything is confined to this area of Lower Manhattan. We need to find a central point. If this person is indeed committing these murders on his break then they must be using public transport, either a cab or the subway.”

  Everyone nodded in agreement.

  “We have a face to go with our search, or part of one anyway,” Tooms added, rocking in his chair while he twizzled his pen between his fingers.

  Captain Brant came out of his office and approached the team, who seemed more hyped up than he had seen them in a long while. “What’s up with you guys? Don’t tell me you know who did it, so we can all go home and I can get the commissioner off my back?” He seemed almost disappointed as McCall shook her head apologetically.

  “Sorry, Captain. However, we have figured out a few things.”

  Brant sat on the edge of Tooms’s desk and folded his arms ready to hear their news.

  “Okay, all of the deaths occurred in Lower Manhattan, which means whoever carried this out is in that vicinity,” she began. “We know all the deaths occurred at around twelve midday, which means our killer has a day job in that area.”

  Brant looked impressed with their theory. “Do you have any suspects?”

  McCall smiled confidently. “We found a shot of a man who was the last person to see Bill Foster alive. Now if anyone else from the other companies recognizes him, there’s a good chance it’s our man.”

  Brant stood up, his stern face now looking more hopeful. “Good work, people. Keep me in the loop.” Then he headed back into his office to answer the ringing phone.

  McCall sat on the edge of Tony’s desk and picked up the lidded thermos cup. “Okay, even if we find this guy we still have to prove he had something to do with the killings. Any good lawyer would argue that it was circumstantial that he was there, and they would be right. Hell, for all we know he may just have had business with them and that’s all.” She swung her legs as she thought, her eyes fixed firmly on both boards. McCall jumped off the desk and stood up straight. “Okay, here’s the plan. Everyone goes back to the places of work of each vic once the likeness of our guy comes in. Find out what the previous jobs of our victims were. These people are connected by something, something worth killing them for.”

  She walked over to her desk and started to unpack the large cardboard box that lay there. Inside were the items she had got from Donald Major’s workshop: blueprints, files and a couple of notebooks was all she had been able to take without it looking suspi
cious. She sat down and started to go through the things, especially the notebooks, to see if anything registered.

  Jenny walked up to her and picked up the folded blueprint. “What’s this?” she asked, picking up the blue document quickly then placing it back down.

  “This stuff is all from Donald Major’s workshop. I figured something here might tell us what he was doing. We have the feed from his cameras so we can see if anyone had been there and the best part is, we can see if anyone goes there from now on.”

  Jenny looked at her boss. “Nice. Hope it brings something new.”

  McCall nodded as she flicked through one of the notebooks. “Me too. Me too.”

  Jenny wandered back to her chair and picked up the Karen Greene file as she sat down. She opened it up and laid it flat before leaning on her folded arms as she read. Every so often, she would look up and around, frowning to herself as she scanned the room. She looked up at the television set that was on a bracket above the captain’s office door.

  “Well, folks, it appears there is a storm coming and it’s coming in from the east coast,” the TV weather guy announced. Jenny sat back in her chair and watched the satellite pictures of a mass of cloud building up over the ocean. She reached over and picked up her cell phone and pressed the speed dial. As she waited for someone to pick up she scanned the room, but her attention always landed on McCall. “Yes, it’s me,” she told her contact. “We may have a problem.”

  As the afternoon sun burnt brightly, Sam made her way back to the electrical firm where Donald Major had worked. She had phoned ahead to make an appointment with the CEO in the hope that he could shed some light on a few details. She had parked not far from the entrance to save time in case she had news and had to get back quickly.

  McCall entered the large lobby and was instantly met by a tall pale woman in an all-black suit. They shook hands and she beckoned McCall to follow her. The woman spoke very little but she gave off an aura of power and control, rather like an old-fashioned school headmistress. The ride in the elevator was the quietest and most uncomfortable Sam had ever experienced. Her eyes kept darting to the woman, who just stood there as still as a statue. Even though she was only in her early forties, she dressed in a stiff formal way. Her hair was tied up into a bun at the back and there was elaborate shoulder-padding in her jacket.

  The elevator doors opened and McCall released the breath she had been holding as she stepped outside. Her grim companion walked in front of her at a pace that would have made professional speed walkers envious.

  She was taken to a large conference room with a big ebony wood conference table surrounded by fourteen black leather chairs. Large panelled windows showed a fantastic view of the city. William Brown sat at the far end of the table with his back to the world outside while he typed something on his tablet.

  “Good afternoon, Detective,” he said. “And to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” His words sounded distant as if he had other things on his mind, but she brushed it off, realising how busy he must be. However, she sensed that he was pleased to see her, despite his tone.

  “Can you tell me what Donald was last working on?” she asked.

  Brown looked up from his work. “No, I am afraid I can’t.”

  Sam pulled out one of the chairs and sat directly opposite him. “Can’t or won’t?” Her words were sharp and decisive.

  “My dear detective. First off, we work under a code of discretion when required. Besides, the client asked for him and no questions asked. The money for his services were, shall we say, sufficient to bind us to a promise that only he knew what was going on.” McCall frowned.

  “So you have no idea if it was illegal or not?”

  Brown stiffened at the accusation.

  “Detective, in this company reputation is everything. If we are tainted by the activities of bad clients we might as well shut down. No, we have a policy. If our workers get a hint of wrongdoing, they are to bail and inform us. Plus, Donald was the sort of man who would never have taken a job that was not legal.”

  Sam glared at him.

  “So it never bothered you that whatever his last job was, it may have gotten him killed?” Brown looked at her, obviously shocked and confused.

  “I understood that it was an accident. They said it was faulty wiring or something.”

  McCall shook her head.

  “Now think again. What was the job?”

  Brown looked genuinely saddened by the news, the sort of look you couldn’t fake at will. “I am truly sorry, Detective. I really don’t know. And if I did I would tell you. My God, someone killed Donald, but why I don’t get it?” McCall nodded, satisfied with his answer.

  “I found Donald’s workshop and some plans. I wondered if you could take a look and figure out what he was working on?”

  William Brown sat back and shook his head sadly.

  “I am sorry, Detective. Fact is, I am just the CEO, and it was my father’s company. I am good with business, but I know nothing about electronics.” He paused and leant forwards to press the intercom button on the three-pronged device that sat in the middle of the table. “But I know someone who might be able to help.”

  As he pressed the central button, McCall heard the voice of his secretary, Susan:

  “Yes, Mr Brown?” Her voice was chirpy and cheerful.

  “Susan, can you get hold of Simon Roberts and ask him to come here please?” He released the button and walked to a small steel trolley that held bottles of water.

  “Can I offer you a drink, Detective?” He offered her a bottle. Sam rose and took it from him and smiled.

  “Thank you.” He returned her smile and sipped from the open mouth of the bottle.

  “The contract for his last job, how was it done?” she asked, taking a sip of cool water.

  William Brown thought for a moment.

  “I got a call that someone wanted a job doing, and requested Donald personally, which is not unusual as he was a hell of an electrician. They arranged a meet, let’s see...” Brown looked into space for second while his memory ran over the facts,

  “Two weeks before the job was due to start. Then on the day of the meeting, one guy turns up. Nice guy, erm, Jones, I believe he said his name was. Yes that was it, Mr Jones. He came here to take the meeting.”McCall gave him a curious look.

  “He came alone. Was the meeting recorded?” Brown shook his head.

  “No, sorry, it’s all part of the ‘confidentiality’.” McCall nodded in a not so understanding way.

  “Yeah, yeah, I get it.” They both looked at Sam’s phone as it registered that she had a new text. She walked over and opened it, leaving it flat on the table so that Brown could see the screen. The text was from Tooms. He had sent an attachment, the picture from the police sketch artists.

  “Hey, Ms McCall, I think that’s Mr. Jones!” Brown said, peering at the phone.

  McCall held up the picture for him to get a better look.

  “Are you sure?” Brown nodded as he took another mouthful of water.

  “Sure, that’s him.” McCall grinned and punched the air.

  “Got you now, you son of a bitch!” She quickly sent a text in reply, informing Tooms: The man goes under the name of Jones.

  When Simon Roberts, the electrical technician, arrived, Sam had already flattened out the huge blueprint ready for him to examine. He knocked and shyly entered the room. He was tall and thin with a pasty completion and brown curly hair. He wore brown thick-rimmed glasses, and his outfit was reminiscent of the 1960s, even though the guy was thirty-two. When she first saw him, Sam was expecting Scooby Doo to come in with him but she suppressed the idea.

  “Simon, this is Detective McCall of the NYPD,” Brown told him.

  “She’s here about a project that Donald was working on, could you take a look?”

  The man walked up to McCall and shook her hand, and she recoiled from the cold sweaty palm.

  “Mr. Roberts, I found these papers in Donald’s w
orkshop. Do you know what they might be for?”

  Simon leant onto the table with both hands supporting him as he looked over the blueprints. He shook his head then he looked up with wide eyes and an awe-filled smile.

  “I have no idea what this is, but I tell you, it’s a work of art. May I take it away to study it?” McCall shook her head.

  “I would prefer this not to be out of our sight. Do you need any special equipment or something to read them?”

  Roberts shook his head and looked confused.

  “Good. In that case if you want to study it you can do it down at the station. I don’t have time to babysit the blueprints.” She turned towards William Brown.

  “If that’s alright with you of course, Mr Brown?” He smiled and raised his hands.

  “You can have anything you need, Detective, if it will clear things up fast for poor Donald.”

  McCall packed the blueprints away and headed back to the station with Roberts in tow.

  EIGHTEEN

  After having a late breakfast, Steel spent the rest of the morning in the internet café checking the news headlines of the New York Times webpage. He had read of the tragic deaths of Donald Major, and the suicides of a woman in a hotel who was yet to be named and Bill Foster, who had taken his own life at work in the Cartwright Global building. His eyebrows rose as he read another day’s column about another tragic accident as Dock worker John Barr falls to his death.

  He worked the mouse furiously, searching for more ‘accidents’, and he found one when he spied a page telling of the mugging gone wrong and the shooting of Karen Greene. He sat back in his chair and sipped the hot tea, the aroma of chamomile filling his nostrils.

  His head was spinning with facts. Who were these recently deceased people and why had they attracted his attention? Was it because he had made no headway in finding out any more about the ship or indeed, discovering why he was here? And because of that he had to find something to fill his curious mind?

  He checked the day and the time that Karen Greene had been gunned down: Karen Greene, aged thirty-four, was gunned down by muggers on Tuesday at around twelve o’clock. Police are asking for witnesses.