The Fixer, Season 1

by Rex Carpenter

  The speaker turned to Senator Marcus. Catherine heard her name spoken so she smiled. It set off a cavalcade of pain inside her head. The doctors had told her the cancer had spread. They didn’t exactly tell her where it had spread to. They certainly had not told her it would turn her head into white-hot pain when she smiled.

  Across the park, high atop a building in the distance, she saw a glint. A momentary reflection. She wondered if it was JC, ready with some kind of sniper rifle. No, she assured herself, he told her it would be taken care of privately. Discretely. He promised me. She sighed. I just wish it would happen soon. We agreed upon L.A. and I’m leaving day after tomorrow. I just want it to be over. I told him last week I can’t deal with it anymore. I’m really at the end of my rope here. She saw the glint again. Maybe it’s not JC. Maybe it’s the tall boy, Duke. Or that girl, Joan. Hard woman, that Joan. Maybe she’s the one for JC. Maybe she could settle him down. I always kind of hoped he would fancy one of my girls when they got older, but now I’m so glad that never happened. Regardless, I’m still glad James will be the one taking care of my problem. He’s almost like family, really. I’ve known him for so long. It’s a shame I can’t say goodbye to my girls. Or their kids. Or Henry. He’ll be so lost without me, my darling Henry.

  A tear came to her eye. She wiped it away. If anyone asked, she’d attribute it to a speck of something in her eye. Maybe an eyelash. The weather was nice. The barest hint of wind. The flags behind her lay idle, not even pretending to flap. I wonder if he killed Daniel Meier. Probably not. Like he said, it did him no good. Probably a burglary gone wrong. Or something related to his father. Past client, maybe a future one. Who knows? That poor man. Finding his son murdered in his own house.

  Her name was said again. The speaker turned towards her, clapping. Senator Marcus stood, hoping she would not fall. Praying her legs would support her and not fail her. Embarrass her.

  It worked. She stood behind the podium. It was draped in red, white and blue. She forgot where she was for a brief moment. Covered it by smiling to the crowd, turning the inside of her head into a white sheet of agony again. Turned to the woman who had introduced her.

  “Thank you for those kind words.” Turned back to the crowd. And the cameras. Remembered the city. “And thank you, Los Angeles, for welcoming me back again. I keep telling my husband Henry that he needs to come out here with me to see this great city, see how welcoming you all are to a little ol’ lady from North Carolina. He’s very busy as chief of surgery at Walter Reed Hospital, but he promises me one day he’ll join me. And I’m gonna hold him to it.” She smiled as she delivered one of her old campaign slogans. The crowd clapped, cued by several well placed campaign employees.

  She launched into a version of her standard stump speech. She’d given them so many times it was truly autopilot for her. Throw in a few jabs at the opposition party, say how they’re holding up everything. Support the president. Support the troops, even though most in her party were against any type of armed conflict. She was as well. But going on rounds with her husband at Walter Reed and touring various VA hospitals around the nation, she soon saw a distinction between war and the soldier who fought it. She knew the best way to keep the men and women who served this country in one piece was to support the armed services to the fullest. Do everything to keep them at home, but if they are in harm’s way, back them to the hilt. She was as liberal as most others in her party on nearly every other issue, but when it came to the Army, she was a hawk.

  “And that’s why, my good Angelenos, if you continue to allow the Republicans to get away with their lack of action on immigration reform and their continued intransigence on fully funding and implementing the Affordable Care Act, our country will be even more torn apart by partisan strife.” She was to the emotional appeal of her speech. The part where she sometimes got choked up. Not always, but sometimes. “The Founding Fathers of this great nation of ours never inten—”

  In mid-sentence Senator Catherine Marcus’s head exploded. From a distance it looked like one minute her head was there and the next it was replaced by a large, expanding cloud of purplish mist. For those close to her, the reality was far more grisly. Small chunks of bone, brain and larger clumps of skin with the hair still attached splattered backwards and sideways, covering everyone with the horrific debris.

  With her head gone and her heart still pumping, blood coursed from her neck in arterial spurts as her body collapsed. No muscle tension remained so Marcus simply collapsed on the floor of the podium, falling over sideways as her heart continued to pump pints of blood onto the plywood surface. Her lifeblood pooled in the knots and irregularities, then ran through the gaps between the plywood sheets onto the grass below.

  Agents from her Secret Service detail jumped forward to protect the murdered senator, guns drawn, even as their brains processed the fact that it was too late. Unlikely for anyone else on the stage to be a target, but they still moved them away from any possible shooter as quickly as they could. Two agents covered the now inert body of the senator. Screams rose and quickly gave way to panic. Everyone ran.

  The cameras kept rolling. And the reporters, despite their revulsion, silently prayed their thanks for the assignment.

  Chapter 45

  Colossal Mountain

  “Kowalski,” JC said. Looked out the window. The radio announcer continued talking about the death of Senator Marcus. Her assassination. The word repeated over and over in various forms until it lost most of its meaning.

  “Turn it off.”

  Duke moved to turn off the radio. Theo did a U-turn, away from the broken, steaming mess of the unmarked Dodge Charger assigned to and driven by Beverly Hills Police Department detectives. JC glanced back over his shoulder. Thought he saw Campbell stirring inside, but he turned back around, tuning out. Lost in thought.

  Shoulda seen it coming. Juggling two dozen things at once, you never see the guy throwing the chainsaws into the mix. JC kicked himself for not fully realizing that Kowalski was the one pulling the double-cross. There was something off about him back at the library in Virginia. JC couldn’t put his finger on it. Put it down to his personal emotional upheaval at having Senator Marcus request her own assassination. And not having seen the man in over fifteen years. Then, at the airport, Kowalski’s actions seemed strange as well. Seemed far too interested in JC getting locked up. JC put it down to still being steamed about the humiliation at the library in Arlington.

  It had been something more. And JC had missed it. Even when Kowalski sent them out to the Nevada desert, trying to convince them to murder Franklin Adams and his group, the Sons of Liberty, JC still didn’t see how deep Kowalski’s issues went.

  Duke had stopped with his hand on the knob of the radio.

  “I said turn it off,” JC repeated.

  “Hold on,” Joan said.

  JC tuned back in, listening to the radio again.

  “Police are looking for a man named JC Bannister,” the announcer was saying. “He is a suspect in the murders of nearly fifty people outside Henderson, Nevada in what police initially thought was a gas explosion but investigators are now saying looks like a coordinated assault.”

  “Oh, man,” Theo said.

  “Looks like you’re famous now, boss,” Duke said.

  JC didn’t answer. Lost in thought. Planning. Need to get out clean. Is that even possible now? Do we have the time? He was pissed about his name being on the radio. He had never been one to spend much time hiding behind cover identities. He had several, of course. Everyone on his team did. Useful tools. Invaluable at times. But no way for him to live his life. The bike shop was technically owned by Coletti and Mercier, although they didn’t know it. Arthur Phillips, JC’s banker and theirs, had set everything up. Done a masterful job of hiding things in ways that few people knew about. Regardless, a prolonged government investigation or even a dogged investigative journalist would be able to figure things out given enough time, resources and judicial leverage. Bei
ng named and exposed on national media was something he had not planned for. Had actively tried to avoid in the past. Can’t be good for business, JC thought. Lighter times he would have smiled. But this was deadly serious.

  “We gotta help Garcia. If she’s being held like Campbell said, we need to clear her,” Duke was saying as Theo continued to drive.

  “Sorry, Duke, but she made her bed,” Joan said. “She’s going to have to get comfortable for a while.”

  Joan and Duke argued about Karen’s fate while Theo kept asking JC where they needed to go. JC rubbed his temples, trying to think. Create a plan. He could hear sirens in the distance.

  “Pull over, Theo,” JC said.

  “Boss, we—”

  “Pull it over, Petrosian!” JC bellowed, the effort making his head pound.

  The Nissan Altima’s anti-lock brakes kept it from coming to a screeching halt as Theo pulled to the curb, the passengers straining against their seatbelts. Everyone was silent. The sirens were getting louder.

  JC looked out the window. Waited.

  Theo folded first. “Boss, I—”

  “I oughta fire every damn one of you right now,” JC jumped in before Theo had a chance to speak. He wasn’t really that angry. But he needed to cut through the bickering. Needed them to be sure of him as their leader and of themselves as his team before they continued. He was forming a plan. Like any plan there were flaws. If his team was operating with confidence and precision it would work. But it looked like a little acting was required before that was going to happen.

  JC watched the backs of Duke and Theo’s heads. They wouldn’t turn to look at him. Glanced at Joan. She was staring at him. A hint of a smile flickered at the right corner of her mouth, hidden from the view of the others in the car. JC always knew she was in. Knew she would never question his leadership in front of others unless there was a serious problem. But Duke and Theo sometimes needed to be reminded of who was in charge.

  “Do you knuckleheads think I need to find someone else to help me execute my plan? Someone better qualified or more constitutionally prepared to help me get out from underneath this colossal mountain of excrement that’s about to avalanche down on top of me? Is that what I need to do, Petrosian? Duke? Do I need to find someone else? Are you not up to the task?” JC’s voice continued to rise. His mouth was set. He was channeling The General. He knew it. But he hoped they had never heard the old soldier do his “colossal mountain” speech.

  “I’m in, JC. Always am. You never need to question it,” Theo said, managing to be subservient and defiant at the same time.

  JC smiled inwardly. Turned to Duke. “And you, Mr. Ellsworth?”

  “You had me at ‘colossal,’ sir.”

  Joan cracked a smile. JC did too, but tried to hide it.

  “Well, alright then boys. You need any pancakes, Duke?”

  “I’m good, boss. Just want to nail this bastard. And get Karen out of jail.”

  “Excellent.” JC nodded. “Let’s go, Theo.” Theo pulled away from the curb, merging with the increasing morning traffic. JC calmed down a bit. “Listen, we’ve got somewhere between twenty-four and forty-eight hours to set this right. Kowalski shot Senator Marcus. Don’t know why but I do know he’s been setting us up all along. He didn’t just decide to do it this morning. Problem is we’re behind the eight ball here. Only thing we have against him is the fact that the Sons of Liberty aren’t dead. He must not know that yet, otherwise it wouldn’t be on the news.”

  “That and the remaining M4 in the trunk,” Joan said.

  “And the recordings of him coordinating the raid in Nevada, plus of him taking possession of the sniper rifle that was used to kill Marcus,” Duke said.

  Things were looking up. JC wanted to smile but didn’t. “And, he thinks I’m in jail or on the way there right now,” he added. Paused. “Duke, did you send the senator’s money back like we discussed?”

  “Haven’t had a chance, boss.”

  Now JC smiled. “That’s a good thing.”

  “You know what else is good?” Theo said, glancing at the rest of the team as he drove. “The fact that we are the biggest bunch of badasses in this whole damn equation.”

  Joan turned her withering glare to him. “Hold on, fat man, what’s this ‘we’ crap?”

  “Did you just volunteer yourself to be one of the cool kids?” Duke said. Shook his head gravely. “Nobody likes that guy, man. Nobody.”

  Theo looked hurt as he glanced back and forth between Duke and Joan.

  JC smiled. “Theo’s in. He was in when he picked us up at the airport.” JC clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks. For everything. And welcome back to the team.”

  Joan and Duke paused. Looked at each other.

  “Well alright then, buddy!” Duke said, clapping Theo on the shoulder also. Theo grinned.

  “Welcome back, Petrosian,” Joan said with a warm smile.

  “You guys can hug it out later,” JC cut in. “Somebody give me a phone.”

  Theo tossed his phone over the seat. “Break it when you’re done. It’s a burner.”

  “You calling to get Karen freed?” Duke said.

  JC didn’t look up. “No. That comes later.” His tone discouraged any discussion. “I’ve got to make three calls. The first call you’ll understand. The second you won’t agree with. And the third will piss you off.”

  Chapter 46

  Agent Kowalski

  Kowalski carefully put the rifle down. Peeled his leather gloves off. Put them in his pocket. Did not remove the latex glove liners he had underneath the leather gloves. Pulled out the specially prepared tapes. Pressed one against the stock of the .50 caliber sniper rifle. Left ring-finger. Pressed another against the hand grip. Right thumb. The third and final one against the trigger. Gently. Right index finger.

  All the prints belonged to James Caddoc Bannister.

  It wasn’t hard. Scan his fingerprints, still on file from his Army days. Reverse the image. Use a 3-D printer to make a little stamp for each desired fingerprint. Put a small amount of oil on the stamp. Press the stamp against a piece of specialized tape. Save the tape somewhere safe. When needed, apply the tape to a surface and the fingerprint was transferred to the surface. Peel away the tape and most of the time it would never raise any questions at all.

  If that were the only evidence Kowalski had linking Bannister to the murder, no, the assassination of Senator Marcus, then it wouldn’t be enough. A couple of well-faked fingerprints on a rifle are still only a couple of well-faked fingerprints.

  *****

  His radio squawked, the earpiece louder than he expected. “SAIC Kowalski, what’s your order? What do we do?”

  “Follow your training! Get an ambulance for the senator!” He spoke firmly to the agent freaking out over the comm unit.

  “But, sir,” the agent replied. Audibly swallowed. “She has no head.”

  “Do as you’re ordered, Agent,” Kowalski said.

  *****

  The pile of dead bodies in the Nevada desert would help nail Bannister. Might be a little hard to pin that on him, but with enough testimony from the teams under Kowalski’s command and a few well-placed leaks to the press or any one of a dozen government agencies, it would likely work. He had the video taken from the drone backed up to DVD, copied three times, mailed to different people for safe-keeping. He had also copied it onto three SSD hard drives as well. Mailed to three entirely different people. His agents would testify to the meeting in Arlington. The beating JC gave him there. Stealing the guns would likely come out. He didn’t report it. Okay, mark against himself. But the beating in the hotel room is another mark against JC. Probably could get Campbell to testify to Joan knocking him out at the airport.

  With Bannister safely in L.A. County lockup, the traps could all be put into place. Campbell had said something about planning to have the man tuned up in the county jail. No problem. Just as long as he was alive.

  Hell, if he was dead it might even be ea
sier, Guy thought. Bannister dead. Meier dead. Marcus dead. Not a bad body count.

  *****

  “Sir, where are you?”

  “I’m in route,” Kowalski replied. “I was checking on a report of a sniper near the Best Western off Wilshire.”

  There was no Best Western off Wilshire. Kowalski was driving a stolen car. Getting caught driving a stolen car at a time like this would look bad. But returning in a government vehicle, with government tracking, would look even worse. Especially from the direction of the shot that killed a senator. The stolen vehicle would take him back to his own government vehicle parked not far from the now dead body of Senator Marcus.

  Nobody will ever know.

  *****

  Kowalski wanted Marcus to die slowly. Painfully. He placed a few depleted uranium rounds secretly in the bottom of her desk drawer years ago. Although depleted uranium has never been scientifically proven to cause cancer, the circumstantial evidence was strong. Strong enough for him to try it. As time went on, he became impatient, started taking bigger risks. Finding more depleted uranium rounds then getting the word out he was looking for them. Then, in his spare time, disassembling them. Extracting the only part that was actually uranium, the penetrator, and using those where before he had utilized the complete round. Allowed him to put more of the dangerous material in a much smaller place. Even took a metal file to one or two of the penetrators and sprinkled the resulting metal dust into her water.

  He took appropriate precautions. Highest level respiration masks. Lifted a couple of hazmat suits for the work. Stumbled across a radiation detector no one was keeping an eye on.

  She never knew.

  And that’s what made it the perfect crime. She would die from cancer and likely nobody would ever question it. Wherever it started, it would continue to spread. Nothing that would leave a trace. Unlike the polonium several governments had used to good effect. She wasn’t young, so there would be no red flags. Most people around her admired her, so there would be no one to suspect. No one who might want to cause her harm.