Circle of Terror

by Larry Powalisz

  They walked back over to Zastrow and patted his shoulder. Smith was first into the bedroom. He came around the bed and saw the full body of the slim female lying still on the carpeted floor. Along with the tight blue jeans, she was clothed in a powder blue sweatshirt. They could see the slit caused by a large-bladed knife or other sharp-edged weapon; the sweatshirt was blood soaked. The sickening smell of death and drying blood permeated the air. Officer Zastrow looked in the left corner of the room from his new vantage point and saw something he didn’t like. It was just a slight deviation that could have been overlooked by all but the best. A large Koss-brand subwoofer sat in the corner of the large bedroom. About a quarter inch or less of dark blue wire was visible coming from underneath the speaker. It disappeared under a throw rug that had been innocuously placed from the speaker and partially under the victim’s body. The reality proved to be much different than the perception.

  “Hammer, Ken, check out that blue wire coming from under the subwoofer. Looks wrong to me. How ’bout you guys?”

  They glanced over where Zastrow pointed. “You’re right. Great eyeballin.’ This is one sick dude. Kills his main squeeze. Then sets a bomb to detonate if someone moves her body.”

  “Bet the medical examiner would give you a big hug, Josh. They would’ve gone up in the blast once they lifted the body. Let’s see if Mr. Zuber left a gift in the speaker.” Detective Hammer closely examined the speaker to see if there were any other wires or obvious variations around it. Not seeing any, he unscrewed the back panel of the speaker and found what they suspected. A two-inch diameter lead pipe with circular-lead end caps lay at the inside base of the subwoofer. Hammer examined the pipe bomb carefully for other potential detonators. He cut the blue wire completing the circuit, ensuring no explosion would occur.

  “Lead pipe! If an explosion had occurred, it would’ve fragged and created serious high-speed projectiles in all directions. Knowing this guy’s history, there were probably additional shrapnel items such as nails inside the pipe, inflicting injuries to whomever may have been within range of the explosion. This guy’s a real SOB.”

  Now that the connection from the explosive device to whatever mechanism under the victim was defused, Zastrow checked the carotid artery of the lifeless female using his plastic-gloved left hand.

  “Nothing.” He could see the post mortem lividity setting in.

  “Let’s make sure there are no other surprises.” Hammer got down on his knees and lifted the body about five inches up on the left side.

  Smith was in position with his head low enough to check underneath. He observed a black, metal pressure switch placed squarely on the floor between the victim’s shoulders. He saw the blue wire from the switch disappear under the navy blue throw rug.

  “Looks like we’re here to tell our twisted stories until another day.”

  Both detectives stood up.

  “We combed through this duplex unit about as thoroughly as a doctor with ten-inch fingers doing a procto.” Hammer stuck his right index finger up in the air for effect. “How about you, Josh? You satisfied there are no other devices in this place? We got a total of four.”

  “I’d be glad to check it once more, if you want. The more eyes, the better. You guys are getting me excited. It’s been five months since I was checking places for IEDs from my last deployment. I’m addicted to this adrenaline rush. Hoo-rah!”

  “Look at that, Smitty. Another sick dude, just like us. I’ll go down and brief Tomczyk. Give me a holler when you guys are finished, and I’ll bring him up the front staircase. It’s his scene. He should only need a couple guys up here for the search.”

  Zastrow and Smith completed their final go-through as Hammer went down the front staircase. “Okay, Ski. C’mon up. We’re ready for you.”

  Tomczyk followed Hammer up the front steps. He led him through the duplex, pointing out the devices and where they had been placed.

  “This is one sick sonofabitch, bro. Having a device set to blow your dead girlfriend up into pieces just ain’t right.”

  Sick! “You’re right there, Hammer. Hopefully, we can find something to give us a clue on where they made the stuff.”

  “That’d be great. We also checked the basement. It’s all clear.”

  “Bummer. Mind helping me out with the search? The assistant medical examiner and an investigator are on the way. The boss told me their ETA was around thirty minutes.”

  “Sure. It would be great to find that gold nugget somewhere in here.”

  They searched for the next half hour and did not find any other clues.

  “It’s like this Zuber never lived there,” Smith summarized the search results.

  Just then, Tomczyk heard the doorbell ring, and Dr. Thomas Jenkins and Investigator Danny Williams were escorted upstairs. They asked a million questions like usual, with Tomczyk coming up with most of the answers.

  “Officer Zastrow gets the brass ring for finding this one.” Tomczyk explained how the pressure switch under the body and attached speaker bomb worked. The eyes of the medical examiner personnel doubled in size.

  “That’s a first for me. Zastrow gets a big bottle for this one. Tell him thanks.”

  “Ski, can you come here a minute? I’m in the bathroom.”

  Tomczyk walked into the small bathroom. Hammer was on his knees.

  “So I see this crumpled up piece of paper on the floor behind the garbage can. Check this out.” Hammer produced an opened but crinkled up yellow paper that had RECEIPT printed on the top of it. The receipt had a date from a week ago with an address for a rented space.

  “It’s only a couple blocks away. One of those old buildings on Gordon Place along the Milwaukee River.” Tomczyk again looked at his watch.

  “Man, Deann Skenarz is really gonna be pissed at me now. I need to get another search warrant.”

  Chapter 27

  CHICAGO BOUND

  Spike parked the white van in the lot of the apartment building where Sam told him. It was nearly ten o’clock. “Man, this Chicago traffic sucks.” Madman was not happy. “Over three hours to get here. Damn expressway’s like a freakin’ parking lot. There were a couple dudes I would’ve loved to jack who almost cut us off.”

  Spike chuckled. “Stay in that happy mood. Now we have to unload this cargo. I’m not leaving the bombs in this van. Who knows how many thieves live in this neighborhood? They’d hit the jackpot if they broke in and found them. Let me call my cuz and have him give us a little help.”

  “I’ll say. This was a real bear loading it up. Hope he has a couple homies. What floor did you say he lived on?”

  “Fourth floor, man, but there’s an elevator in there. He was storing the other ones at a different location.” Spike speed dialed the number. “We’re downstairs, dude. Where we puttin’ this stuff?” Several seconds passed. “We’ll wait for you. Can’t miss us. Bright white van.”

  Spike looked over at Madman. “He’s using a garage a couple blocks away that he said is as tight as Fort Knox. He’ll be down shortly, and we’ll get this show on the road.”

  “Good. That fast-food burger just didn’t fill my stomach. I’m gettin’ hungry again.”

  “Blah, blah, bitch,” Spike laughed. “Work before chow.”

  Spike saw his cousin jog out the front door of the large brick building. Another guy was following close behind.

  “Sam must’ve hired one of the Chicago Bears. Look at the size of that dude.”

  “Just so he’s legit and we can trust him.”

  “Pullin’ your leg, man. That’s my other cousin, Jamie. Smart as a box of rocks, but loyal as hell and built like a brick house.”

  “Good to know, Spike. Puts me at ease.”

  They opened the passenger side door and climbed into the back. “How ya doin’, Spike?” his cousins greeted him simultaneously.

  “Great. Hey, meet my bud, Madman. We’ve been working together for a while. This is his first time in Chi-town, so don’t forget to show him a
good time. Madman, meet Sam and Jamie.”

  “Hey.”

  Madman felt intimidated by their size.

  “Okay. Take a left out of the lot and go straight for a couple blocks.”

  He turned into the alley they told him to and stopped next to a brick garage, which appeared to be primarily an industrial area.

  “You’re sure this place is secure?”

  “Hell, yeah. No windows and a solid steel door with big locks on it. You’ll see.”

  Sam pulled out a set of keys and unlocked both large locks on the side garage door.

  “Look at the size of these things—Master Locks on steroids.” He opened the tan-colored steel door and flipped on the light. One of the garage doors opened when he pushed a button on the wall. “Okay, drive that baby in and let’s get the heck out of here. Not many cops patrol this area, but I still don’t want one seeing us out here. We’ll get stopped for sure.” Another vehicle was already parked in the two-plus car garage.

  “Take a quick peek inside and see what I have so far.” Spike opened the rear door to the van and showed them his creations. At about the same time, an older gray Ford Aerostar minivan pulled up in the alley and stopped.

  “Good timing, Joe. Okay, you guys, let’s bug out of here.” Sam activated the switch for the door, and they were in the van a minute later after securing the side door.

  “Damn, Spike. How many bombs you make?”

  “There are fifteen finished ones and ingredients plus containers and shrapnel for fifteen more. I can knock those out tomorrow. We’ll really rock this city. That black box will be my special surprise to Chicago since I couldn’t unveil it fully in Milwaukee.”

  “Really, what is it?”

  “Something I cooked up from stuff I stole out of a hospital. You guys ever hear of cesium chloride?”

  Sam looked at him in disbelief. “That’s that radioactive shit! What the hell you doin’, Spike? I don’t need to glow in the dark.”

  “Chill, Sam. It’s safe right now. I added an ingredient or two that makes it a special brew. We’ll light up that stadium and everyone in it. And they thought Capone and Dillinger made Chicago famous. Wait till all this shit blows up with the cesium chloride—rainbow cloud over Soldier Field.”

  “You sure you want to waste that many people?”

  “Why not? Screw ’em. Just a bunch of useless Bear and Packer fans, along with a crooked mayor and governor. The place is also going to be full of pigs and uniform-wearing, killing-machine soldiers and vets.”

  “Can’t argue with that. What were you going to do with this in Milwaukee?”

  “I was thinking small time there. Maybe a Bucks game down at the Bradley Center in a month or two. They have a military/law enforcement appreciation night. Since we had to get the hell out of Milwaukee before they caught us, we might as well go for a little gusto and break up the party at Soldier Field. My drunken old man used to tell me to ‘Go for all the gusto!’ Well, let’s do it. The world will be our stage, and this’ll further our cause.”

  “You’re a crazy mofo, Spike. I’ll drink to that any day. Speakin’ of gusto, we bought a couple cases of beer the other day. Let’s grab a couple pizzas and party. They got a great joint down the block from us. What you guys want on it? I’ll make the call, and they can deliver.”

  “Now you’re talkin’. Let’s go.”

  They drove back to the apartment and popped the caps off some beer bottles. The five of them sat down at the kitchen table to discuss their plans.

  “We need to have some sort of distractive device go off a couple miles from the stadium. Where would be the best place for that?” Zuber took a long drag off his cigarette and a gulp from the bottle of a local craft beer.

  “How about somewhere on Michigan Avenue? There will be a crap-load of people out holiday shopping. All the decorations are lit up, and every spoiled brat will be with his parents, buying from all those corporate greed machines. Rich bastards.”

  “Perfect. You got a map of the city?”

  “Yeah, plus I have a laptop.” Joey grabbed his laptop off the kitchen counter, opened it, and was on Google Maps in seconds. A map of Chicago came up. He placed it into satellite mode and pushed the zoom-in arrow several times. “Let’s see. Soldier Field is right here.” He pointed to the oval structure located along the lakefront.

  Sam looked at the screen. “Here’s the problem. There’s no parking lot next to it. Not like any other stadium in the damn country that has car parking within fifty feet. There’s no freakin’ parking lot for a couple blocks.”

  “No worries, we’ll figure something out. Joey, go farther up along Michigan Avenue. Let’s find a place for our diversion.”

  Chapter 28

  THIRTY-EIGHT HOURS TO DETONATION

  It was a quarter of five in the morning when Tomczyk walked into his house. Another twenty-plus hour workday in one week. This case was draining the life out of him. The events of the night swirled over and over in his head like a runaway merry-go-round.

  The interviews and positive identifications of Michael Zuber; the two search warrants, discovery of the dead body, and the explosive devices found there—including the IED underneath the body. That second search warrant seals the deal of Zuber cooking up his explosive devices. Just what we need: a true Mad Scientist. Some nutcase on the loose who knows how to make explosives and has a hatred for law enforcement and people. Why did Zuber steal the license plates off his dead girlfriend’s car, and what was he going to do with them? Who the heck is he with? Where is he, and what else is he cooking up in his deranged mind? He’s no anarchist, cult worshipper, or Hammerskin. This guy came straight from hell.

  On a positive note, all the evidence was packaged and inventories were completed. On a negative note, he had a stack of reports to file when he went back into work in the morning, along with spending a half hour briefing his lieutenant and captain. He laid down on the couch in the living room for a two-hour power nap. Max, his acrobatic jet black cat, jumped on Declan’s chest and did the rub against his chin. The last thing Declan heard before falling into solid REM sleep was Max’s purring.

  “Anne, are you able to come to our office this morning? I want to have you here when I brief my bosses. It’s nitty-gritty time. That way you’ll get the rest of the scoop on the second search warrant and everything we recovered from the first. Pictures will be included, but you’ll have to bring your own popcorn. And, sorry to say, you won’t be making dinner tonight for us. Sounds like it’s going to be a full day.”

  “Guess so.” Tomczyk could hear the disappointment in her voice. “Another day then. What time’s the meeting?”

  “Nine.”

  “Guess that’ll have to be our date.”

  Tomczyk was falling for this beautiful woman. Everything about her was fantastic. Would it interfere with his focus? He had grieved enough for the woman he loved and lost. Marie told him on her deathbed to go on with his life, and it was about time he did. Was it possible to fall in love with another woman as much as he had fallen in love with his first? Do your reports, Declan, and find these homicidal maniacs. There will be time later to pursue your off-duty passions.

  He dialed the phone number to Chicago PD intelligence division.

  “Is this a bad thing when you start memorizing a different area code and phone number? What’s up, Ski?” came a voice with that unmistakable South Side Chicago accent.

  “Mac, we hit the hornet’s nest last night and came away with big pay dirt. Can I ask a favor of you?”

  “Sure, what da’ya need? Long time, no hear,” MacCarthy said sarcastically. They had been sharing information nearly every day with their updates.

  “We made a positive ID on our main guy here. He’s got to have some connection down by you. Can you run him and see what you have?”

  “Go for it. Got some paper and my writing stick. Ready to copy.”

  Tomczyk gave him all of Zuber’s info and a brief synopsis of the night’s events
.

  “Yeah, he vanished like a fart in the wind—for now. I’ll be back on the trail this afternoon after briefing my bosses, the FBI, and, of course, finishing this dang blasted paperwork.”

  “Wow, you have the same issues we have down here. If it ain’t written down, it didn’t happen, right?”

  “You got it.”

  “Hang on, man. Let me put you on hold and fire up my computer.” A minute later, MacCarthy was back on the phone. “Got him. All we have is one crummy field interview card. He was in a car with another guy a week and a half ago on the corner of Twenty-fifth and Lincoln at oh-dark-thirty. Says the cop got called to a suspicious auto complaint.”

  “That’s right by the Biograph Theatre!”

  The phone was silent. “How in the hell would some cheesehead detective from Milwaukee know about the Biograph Theatre being at Twenty-fifth and Lincoln in Chicago?”

  “C’mon, Mac. I’ve seen Public Enemies six times. And they have this thing called the Internet you can research stuff on. You ever hear of it?”

  “I’m still shocked a muscle-bound jock like you even has a brain. FYI, this was a couple days before the cops from the Nineteenth found the ‘bogus bomb in a bag’ sitting by the front doors of the theatre with the extortion letter. What were they asking for, twenty million bucks or something? These turds had to be scoping it out first.”

  “Beautiful. Who was he with?”

  “I’m running the guy now. Samuel Rider, white male, DOB July 8, 1985. Has an address on the South Side. They were in a maroon Buick Skylark with Wisconsin plates. Rider’s a real gem. Three felony convictions and a slew of misdemeanors, along with a pending battery to police officer and resisting charge. Spent about five total years in the pen. Guess he doesn’t like the ‘popo’ either?”