Circle of Terror

by Larry Powalisz

  “Okay by me.”

  MacCarthy parked the black Crown Victoria next to a number of other marked and unmarked vehicles in the lot on the northeast side of the stadium. They stepped into the mobile command post vehicle and were met by the uniformed lieutenant assigned as the event commander.

  “How ya doin’, Mac?”

  “Good. Lieut, this is Detective Declan Tomczyk, Milwaukee Police. He’s the lead investigator on their case.”

  “Thanks for the help, Declan. So this Zuber guy’s a pretty bad hombre?”

  “Yes, sir. We’re almost 100 percent sure he’s responsible for at least three of our homicides and possibly the killing of the police officer at the cemetery here in Chicagoland. He’s also good for the attempted homicide of a Milwaukee detective and several other recent bombings we’ve had in our city. Oh, yeah. He’s a class-A piece of crap.”

  “Got it. We have about two hundred officers here, inside and out, along with three bomb tech units and a WMD team. They all have the pictures and other info on Zuber and the Rider brothers. All the outside units have the vehicle info on the van. Duke and the female FBI agent, Anne, checked in just before you and gave us the description of the other vehicle that came out of the garage with the van. They said the witness only got a partial plate number, and we broadcasted the info to all units.”

  “Then you’re up to speed. I’m guessing you already know about the explosion on Erie Street.”

  “Unfortunately, yes. That was my beat a thousand years ago. Knew every square inch of that area and can picture where they placed that bomb. Some of the best years of my career were on the Mag Mile.”

  “Back in the good ole days of police work, I’m sure,” Declan responded.

  “No question. But that discussion is for another day.”

  “Amen, brother!”

  “We’ll cruise around and remain on the outside,” MacCarthy reassured the Event Commander. “Let’s go, Ski.”

  “Ski?”

  “It’s a long and boring story. Good to meet you, sir.” Tomczyk shook the Lieutenant’s hand.

  “Likewise.”

  As they walked back to the squad, Tomczyk noticed it was 6:29. MacCarthy drove north on Museum Campus Drive and pointed to the squad blocking traffic on their left side. “We shut down the tunnel on both ends from here to McFetridge Drive. No sense even giving those guys a chance to detonate anything under the stadium.”

  “Good work.”

  MacCarthy drove up to the circle drive in front of the Shedd Aquarium and stopped.

  “Can’t tell you how much time I spent down here as a kid.” He pointed out the Adler Planetarium and the Field Museum, all within walking distance of each other. His memories took him to a faraway time. “Enough for my walk down memory lane. FYI, there are squads patrolling every one of these lots and other areas, looking for the van and the other car in case they decide to hide out then attack around game time. I will take it real personally if they try to damage any of my best friends here,” looking at each of the internationally renowned buildings.

  “You rock, Mac. That’s what I love to hear. Let’s go find these maggots and put them where they belong.”

  They gave each other a fist bump, and MacCarthy cruised along McFetridge Street between the Field Museum and Soldier Field. Two marked CPD squads were blocking the other entrance to the tunnel under the stadium. He drove back eastbound, then south on Museum Campus Drive. Turning right onto Waldron Drive, which ran along the south side of the stadium, MacCarthy stopped the squad along the curb. They sat for a couple minutes looking in all directions for a vehicle they were positive would appear in the next couple hours.

  Duke was the first one on the radio. “All squads. A blue van with white stripes and Chicago Public Works written on the side just stopped along the curb in the northbound lanes of Lake Shore Drive, less than two hundred yards north of Waldron. It’s probably the closest they can get to the west side of the stadium. One white male wearing navy blue coveralls got out and placed orange pylons behind the van. A second white male wearing the same outfit exited the back. Both now walking to the front. Hold on. A black, four-door Charger stopped in front of the van, and they’re getting into the car. We’re southbound on Lake Shore Drive and can’t turn around. Get on that Charger!”

  “Okay Mac, let’s go!”

  Chapter 34

  CHICAGO: DETONATION TIME

  Before Duke finished his broadcast, Mac was already in gear, heading out toward Lake Shore Drive with tires squealing. “Okay, there’s the van. Where’s the Charger?”

  As they passed the blue van, Tomczyk saw the ABU478 license plate on the back, which now had a blue background and black lettering instead of the familiar white background and black lettering of Wisconsin plates. The darkness made it difficult to locate the auto. Thankfully, Lake Shore Drive was not filled with heavy traffic and was well lit. Tomczyk searched his memory banks for the configuration of the taillights of a newer-model Dodge Charger.

  “There it is!” he shouted, pointing the auto out to MacCarthy. It was in the left lane, four cars in front of them, traveling with traffic at about forty-five miles per hour. “We have to take that car out!” Tomczyk heard the scene commander on the squad radio in the background, ordering bomb tech units over to the van. “Mac, we have some really quick decisions to make. If they have a detonating device in that car, we’re screwed if we try stopping them with the Kojak light,” pointing to the red police light on the floor. “If the bombs are on a timer, your techs will have half a chance to diffuse it before the clock runs out. Let’s PIT ’em. Hopefully they’ll get confused and won’t be able to detonate.”

  “I have to get an okay before I attempt a PIT! We don’t even know if Zuber’s in the car.”

  “I’ll take that chance! The book says you have to be an emergency vehicle before you can do one. If you become an emergency vehicle, those killers will detonate the device for sure. Mac, put it ALL on me. I’ll take the blame and the jail time. Now let’s do this.”

  “You’re a crazy SOB, Ski! This is gonna cost you.”

  Both vehicles drove through the green lights at East Balbo when Mac made his move. He drove up on the right side of the unsuspecting driver and passengers until the front of his bumper was about equal to the rear tire of the Charger. Just before MacCarthy started moving across the lane to nudge the back right quarter of the Charger, the back seat passenger turned and looked at the two detectives, realizing instantly who they were. Tomczyk looked straight into the soul of a monster.

  “That’s Zuber. Do it, Mac! Do it now!” The unmarked squad pushed into the Charger perfectly and the force of the contact caused the driver to lose temporary control of the auto as the Charger spun around in a 360-degree clockwise turn and came to a stop. MacCarthy tapped the brakes to get out of the way and stopped directly behind and slightly to the right of the car. The passenger in the front seat stepped out in the middle of Lake Shore Drive and pointed a dark handgun at their squad. Tomczyk’s department-issued .40 caliber pistol was already out of the holster. In quick succession, he fired five shots at the target through the squad windshield. He had trained countless times to automatically fire three quick rounds to the upper torso and two to the head. This was completed in less than two seconds. Richard Zuber rushed out and attempted to do the same thing with his Glock Model 22, but was quickly dispatched to the same deadly fate by both MacCarthy and Tomczyk. Neither detective noticed the driver get out of the car during the shootout and flee west toward Grant Park.

  “Ski, that big dude’s getting away!”

  Tomczyk was out of the squad in a second and in hot pursuit. Jamie Rider made it across the southbound lanes of Lake Shore Drive and reached the large concrete walkways of the park.

  No way, big boy. You’re mine. Tomczyk holstered his weapon for an easier and faster pursuit of the suspect but was ever watchful with his cat-like reflexes if he needed to redraw and engage.

  As Jamie Rider reached
the walkways that ran around historic Buckingham Fountain, he turned and placed both hands at chest level and tightened them into fists. “Okay, pig. I hope you’re ready for me—unless you’d rather be a chicken shit and call for some backup.”

  “Squads are already on the way. If you’re in the mood for fighting, go for it.”

  Jamie flicked open a switchblade knife he had hidden in his right hand and charged at Tomczyk. He was able to hit pay dirt on Tomczyk’s left forearm, causing blood to surface on his maroon sweatshirt sleeve. The highly trained detective used Rider’s large frame against him and performed a quick double kick to the body and one perfect punch to the jaw. To Tomczyk’s surprise, Rider was able to do a leg sweep, causing the detective to fall to the concrete. Rider attempted to get up and attack again, but Tomczyk finished the fight with an amazing, forceful right-leg kick to the chest. Rider flew onto his back and slammed against the hard surface. The knife fell harmlessly away. He rolled the suspect over and used two sets of handcuffs to secure him.

  “When you get released from prison in sixty years, I suggest you think before you attack someone who knows what he’s doing. And by the way, you’re under arrest for a whole lot of things. Too bad your family members probably didn’t make it. Pointing a gun at a police officer is a bad idea.”

  Several marked vehicles arrived and took custody of Jamie, placing him in one of the caged squads. Tomczyk walked back to MacCarthy’s unmarked squad with an obvious limp, favoring his right leg. Michigan Avenue was lit up like a Christmas tree with red and blue police lights. Spotlights illuminated the Charger. Anne ran up to Tomczyk and embraced him with all her might.

  “Thank God you’re okay, Declan. Mac told me about the PIT maneuver and how you had to shoot those guys. Why are you limping?” She also noticed the fairly large, wet blood spot on his sleeve.

  “Just a scratch. PIT, the precision immobilization technique,” he accentuated with an overly studious look, “when used properly, is a cop’s best friend in ending a pursuit. Mac’s execution of it was pure textbook. Are either of those guys still alive?” He looked over at the paramedic ambulances near the Charger. “I did my best to neutralize them. Think I twisted my knee when I turned and ran for that big dude. Old war wound. Guess I’m no longer in my prime.”

  “You look awfully good to me, but let’s get that arm looked at. I’m not sure about those guys, though. Mac probably has more answers.”

  They walked over to Detective MacCarthy, who was conferring with a uniformed lieutenant. Upon seeing Tomczyk, he put out his arms and bear hugged his fellow law enforcement officer. “I will be your partner, anywhere, anytime!”

  “Same goes for me, Mac.”

  “The bomb techs were able to defuse a helluva bomb in the back of the van that was on a timer. You called it. We just received word that a Joseph Shipley from Chicago and a Thomas Friend from Milwaukee, AKA Madman, were picked up as they parked a minivan at the building on Halstead and tried going into the apartment we did the search warrant at. I’m positive they’re good for the bombing in the alley downtown.”

  “Madman! Excellent. How about Zuber and Sam Rider? They can’t be doing too well.”

  “Zuber definitely bought the farm—he’ll be DOA. I don’t give Sam Rider much of a chance of survival either. Interesting shooting through the windshield, by the way.”

  “Didn’t have time to get out of the car before Rider was starting to take aim. He sure was out in a flash. Besides, the engine block is safer than that TV ‘behind the car door’ stuff as far as cover’s concerned. Seen bullets go through doors too many times.”

  “I hear you on that one. Did you see the expression on Zuber’s face? He recognized you instantly.”

  “Sure did. He was the driver the day my former partner was hurt in the cemetery—even gave me the finger. We only locked eyes for a split second. His are just plain scary.”

  “I could see that evil-eyed SOB, and I was concentrating on hitting the car in the right location. Let’s go down to HQ. We have much work to do.”

  “Okay. Anne, we’ll see you and Duke at the PD.” He gently touched her right hand with an ‘I’m okay’ look. She returned a relieved smile.

  “Good enough.”

  Within ten minutes, MacCarthy drove the squad into the police parking lot across the street from Chicago Police Headquarters. Detective Dukeshyer pulled in next to him, and they all got out. MacCarthy went to the trunk and pulled out the bottle of Bushmills, along with four small, plastic white cups.

  “Didn’t think it would look very professional having a shot of Irish whiskey on Michigan Avenue and making the ten o’clock news. We just saved a whole lot of people and have you two to thank for it. The City of Chicago owes us this one.” Mac poured the four of them a drink and toasted their health and friendship. “Great stuff,” he said as they swallowed it down. “Promise I’ll share the rest of the bottle with my intel buddies; however, the Jameson’s coming home with me.”

  They all laughed. Tomczyk grabbed Anne gently by the arm and gave her a long, tender kiss as he held her close. “Thank you, Anne. You’re the best federal agent I know, and I want to get to know you a whole lot better.”

  “I love the sound of that! Well, Detective Declan, looks like we have some paperwork to do. No one else I’d rather do it with.”

  “C’mon, you two. There’s no kissing in police work!” Detective Bill MacCarthy put an arm around each of his newfound friends’ shoulder, and the four of them walked into the building together.

  “What a night! And what a great ending, working with some of the best. Doesn’t get better than that.”

  This was why Tomczyk chose a life of service. “Mac, do you have a secure phone in your office? We may have another major ‘fire’ to put out. I also promised to make a phone call to a great kid named Lightning.”

  TIMELINE FOR THE 1935 REIGN OF TERROR

  This timeline is based on information taken from numerous newspaper accounts in the Milwaukee Journal and Milwaukee Sentinel archives during the time period.

  October 1: One hundred fifty sticks of dynamite, four hundred fifty fuse caps, and two hundred feet of fuse stolen from the locked storage sheds at the Civilian Conservation Corps camp in Estabrook Park.

  October 12: Loud explosion heard in the city of Wauwatosa by the railroad tracks in the vicinity of Seventieth and State. Later theorized that it was related to the bombers practicing with the stolen dynamite.

  October 16: Whitefish Bay Armory broken into, eleven guns stolen from locker. Offense possibly involved with the timeline of The Mad Bomber.

  October 18: Seventy-year-old “psychic detective” Arthur “Doc” Price Roberts told Milwaukee Police Detective English, before the explosions, that there were “going to be lots of bombings—dynamitings! I see two banks blown up and perhaps the city hall. Going to blow up police stations. Then there’s going to be a big blowup south of the Menomonee River, and it’ll be all over.” Roberts was known for his strange talents, so extra precautions were taken by local law enforcement.

  October 20: Attempted armed robbery of Kemp’s Rexall Pharmacy in Shorewood, where a shotgun round was fired at a clerk but struck the wall clock behind him.

  October 22: West Milwaukee Police Department squad car stolen from police garage.

  October 26: Shorewood Village Hall explosion.

  October 27: Citizen Bank explosion at Thirty-sixth and Villard on Milwaukee’s North Side.

  • Armed and masked robbery of Kemp’s Rexall Pharmacy in Shorewood.

  • Armed and masked robbery of Druschke Rexall Pharmacy on Milwaukee’s East Side.

  • First Wisconsin Bank explosion on Milwaukee’s East Side.

  October 28: Note found at Palmer Street Elementary School, along with a dynamite fuse, demanding $125,000. The note was written on a typewriter found in a room in Idzi’s house.

  October 31: Bombing of Milwaukee Police Station at Third and Hadley at 6:45 p.m. Bombing of Milwaukee Police Statio
n at Twelfth and Vine at 7:00 p.m.

  November 1: Letter received at Milwaukee Police Station at Sixth and Mineral stating, “You’re next, no kidding.” A note was also sent to Detective Captain Prohaska, demanding $100,000 or his house would be blown up.

  November 3: Rutkowski and Chovanec, “The Mad Bombers,” die in a garage explosion behind the house at 2121 West Mitchell Street.

  • Nine-year-old Patricia Mylnarek was killed in the explosion and a number of others were wounded.

  • George Sujewicz and juvenile Elmer Gritz were arrested. They admitted to being in a stolen car during a hit and run accident on October 24. Milwaukee Police investigators were unable to connect either with other crimes.

  December 6: Two stolen cars were found in a garage at 2960 South Thirteenth Street that had been rented by Paul “Shrimp” Chovanec in October. One of the cars contained a light and siren from the WMPD squad, along with four bombs, two shotguns, a rifle, and pistol—along with five sets of license plates. One of the bombs was made up of six sticks of dynamite.

  SIDE NOTE

  May 1, 1939: Twenty-year-old Edward Malinowski was in possession of 150 sticks of dynamite stolen from a quarry in March 1939. Also found were 458 blasting caps in his attic, taken from a different quarry. Newspaper articles of “Idzi” Rutkowski were found in Malinowski’s attic, along with the contraband.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE FACTS

  We as a society continue to be enraptured by a period in our history that occurred over eighty years ago. The Great Depression struck on “Black Monday” in October 1929 and thrust the United States into its darkest financial period. Our parents, grandparents, and even great grandparents, now mostly gone, may have shared with us what it was like during those times. Countless books, magazines, and movies have chronicled the pain and misery that swept the nation.

  The names of Eliot Ness, Melvin Purvis, J. Edgar Hoover, and others have etched an indelible mark in the annals of our history in that bygone era. The well-written and well-chronicled book Public Enemies by Bryan Burrough became one of my inspirations to start this project.