Payback (Angie Bartoni Case Files Book 13)

by Marshall Huffman

  “I’m sure you know that we seldom like them. They usually just add a level of complication to the investigation. People’s toes get stepped on and they often hinder rather than help. Usually they are good for the kind of people who like committees. It’s a way to pass the blame around if something goes wrong. Having said that, this is one time I would seriously consider it and I’ll tell you why. Someone is killing police. We are being specifically targeted and everything points to a professional. Now a professional doesn’t do this for fun and seldom revenge. They do it because someone is paying them. That means it is someone with a lot of money because a professional who is willing to murder cops can’t come cheap. This is going to be a really challenging case to put to bed and I sure would hate to see another shooting just because I don’t want my ego bruised,” I told him.

  He sat there looking from me to the captain for several moments before speaking again.

  “That certainly is an astute observation. I hadn’t considered a paid professional. I also thought you would reject the idea immediately. I’m more than a little impressed with your willingness to consider the idea. Let’s leave it as is for now. If another policeman gets shot, we will activate a task force. If you feel we need one due to the amount of work, we activate one. I will wait for your decision on that. Fair enough?” he said.

  “Yes sir. More than fair.”

  “Good. Just let me know,” he said.

  Dan and I stayed after the Commissioner left.

  “That was definitely different,” the captain said.

  “You mean him holding off and asking my opinion?”

  “That too but the fact that you didn’t go ballistic when he even brought it up is pretty unusual.”

  “I’m not that bad.”

  “The heck you aren’t. Even Dan will agree with me on that point, won’t you?” the captain asked.

  “I plead the 5th,” Dan quickly replied.

  “Coward,” the captain and I said in unison.

  ***

  I kept asking myself if I really believed what I just told the Commissioner. Could someone have hired a professional hit man to shoot police? What would be the motive? Most killers bent on revenge do not hire someone to do the dirty work. They want to see the results first hand. The other thing is the amount of money it would take to hire someone willing to do that kind of job. Rich people don’t hire someone to kill cops at random. They hire people to kill a spouse or business partner occasionally but very seldom are police the target. That being the case, whom would benefit was the biggest question in my mind. If we knew the why then maybe we could work backward to the whom. The problem was, we knew neither of those things and nothing was pointing us in that direction.

  I decided I need to know more about the weapon being used. I knew almost nothing about a Russian Mosin Nagant rifle. Lance had told us it shot a 7.62 x 54r round but that meant little to me. I knew a 7.62 was in the .30 cal range but other than that, I had no idea what it meant. I went on the internet and searched Mosin Nagant. I was really surprised at the information about the gun. I found the rifle had been around for some time but it came into its own during the Second World War. A Russian sniper named Vasily Zaitsev killed over 225 German solders with the Mosin Nagant. Even then the deadly rifle was capable of 900 meter shots with accurate results.

  Suddenly this took on a new meaning. If someone had taken that rifle and reworked it to make it even more accurate we could be in for potentially greater problem.

  I decided to search the internet to see if anyone specialized in modifying the Mosin. I found that not only are there a lot of gunsmiths who make modifications but that you could buy all kinds of items such as modified bolts, triggers, and even a kit that allows the gun to have a clip rather than the normal top loaded magazine. More importantly, the clips could hold five or ten rounds.

  While all of this was interesting, by the time I got done I was no closer than I was when I started. There were hundreds of places to get upgrades not including the ones a person at home could do if they had any knowledge of guns at all. Right now it looked to be another dead end.

  At this point I decided that I would call it an night. Dan had left a little earlier to see if he could patch things up with Paula. All I had to look forward to was my Healey and the left over cold pizza.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Patrolmen Harry Reed and Margo Keller were somewhat concerned. They were on edge for two reasons. One was obviously the shooting of the other officers but on top of that, they were patrolling an area of abandoned warehouses. While thirty years ago the place had been bustling with activity, the high rent, narrow roads, and general migration to business parks had left the area now boarded up and empty. The city had considered tearing them down at one point but the cost to demolish them was not within the realm of the current budget.

  “It’s doggone dark,” Margo said.

  “Yeah, I don’t like it one bit,” Reed replied.

  “Good place for an ambush.”

  “Thanks for sharing that cheery thought.”

  “Always glad to help,” she said.

  “Why is this guy doing this, do you suppose?”

  “Hell if I know. I don’t know if it is some nut or someone who really has it in for the cops,” she said.

  “When we get done here, let’s head over and grab something to eat,” Reed suggested.

  “That works for me. I don’t even know why they have us checking on these old places. Nobody wants anything from them. They’ve been empty for what, five or six years now?” Margo said.

  “Hey, we just…”

  Margo just caught Harry’s head snapping back. Blood splattered the interior of the car and covered her face. Without hesitating she ducked down in the car just as the windshield shattered and a bullet slammed into the head rest where her head had been just moments ago.

  She was trying to stay low and fumble with her seatbelt but needed to sit up to get it to disengage. She reached down and pulled a small knife out of her sock and sliced through the belt freeing herself so she could get even lower.

  “Officer down, officer down, 10-00 officer down,” she yelled into her microphone.

  “Location?’

  “Jackson warehouse district.”

  “Rolling,” came the reply.

  A third shot hit her partner taking off most of his head. The fourth shot smashed into the car at the base of the windshield. It punched through just missing Margo’s leg by inches.

  She knew the shooter was in front of her and if she tried to get out he might get a better shot at her. Another bullet slammed into the car, hitting her in the foot. Blood squirted out of her shoe. He was zeroing in on her. She had no choice. She reached up and opened the door but didn’t actually get out until the next shot. It tore through the door right where she would have been. She sprang out and rushed to the back of the car but there were no more shots. She could hear sirens in the distance. She sat down behind the car and waited.

  It was only a few minutes but it seemed like hours before the first car arrived. In a few more minutes the entire area was filled with police cars and ambulances.

  “You’re hit,” the first patrolman on the scene said.

  “I’m okay. Check on Harry,” she said her voice quivering.

  “Someone else is checking on him. You need to get over to the EMT,” he said helping her to stand.

  She wobbled and wanted to go check her partner but he steered her over to the ambulance. The medics went to work on her foot, cutting the rest of her shoe off. That was when she really felt the pain.

  “Oooh, I don’t feel so good.”

  They gave her a shot and then went back to work on her foot. Minutes later she was on her way to the hospital. She still didn’t know if Harry was alive. Fortunately she was in a fog by the time she arrived at the hospital and was rushed into the ER.

  ***

  I was eating a bowl of frozen yogurt with peanuts and chocolate syrup, watching television. I
was laughing at one of the cop shows, the one where there are two female cops and one runs around in a dress all the time. What a hoot. Like that is ever going to happen.

  “Angie, another shooting,” the voice on the phone said when I answered.

  I stopped mid bite. Son of a…donut. I couldn’t believe it. This was getting crazy.

  “Condition of the officers?”

  “One DOA the other slightly wounded.”

  “On my way,” I said after he gave me the location.

  This meant a task force would automatically happen now. I couldn’t say I blamed the Commissioner. The press would tear him a new one if he didn’t do something to show we were being proactive.

  When I got to the scene, I saw Dan’s car. I slipped under the tape and immediately saw a body lying on the ground with a cover over it. Blood had started to ooze out from under it.

  “Who is it?” I asked Dan.

  “Officer Harry Reed. Fifteen years on the force. His partner is Margo Keller, nine years on the force,” he told me.

  “I knew Harry a little but I don’t know Margo at all,” I kind of said to myself.

  “How bad is Keller hurt?’

  “Shot in the foot. Apparently she was able to make it to the back of the car without getting hit. Reed was obviously shot first. The shooter takes out the driver then the passenger,” Dan said.

  I wanted to say, well duh but this just didn’t seem like the time or place to be flippant. I saw the ME arrive. Sorenson had a grim look on his face as he walked over to the body and bent down.

  “This is got to stop,” I said coming up behind him.

  “No kidding Bartoni. It’s bad enough when it is civilians but these are our people I’m scraping up off the street. I am deeply disturbed by all of this.”

  “This guy is on a rampage. We just don’t have squat to go on. So far we have no witnesses or any physical evidence other than the spent bullets.”

  “All I can say is that you had better get some and damn quick or the bodies are going to keep mounting,” Sorenson said.

  “We are going to have a task force,” I replied.

  “Task force,” he said like it was a bitter pill, “That won’t get this guy. Hell those things usually slow everything down. Task force, my butt,” Sorenson said with a disgusted look.

  “We both know it’s more for show than go. The brass has to do something to reassure the people that we are doing everything in our power to catch this guy. It may not help much but it placates the average Joe Blow.”

  “The average Joe Blow doesn’t know this is nothing more than the brass covering their ass.”

  “They count on that,” I said.

  There was no use singing to the choir. We both knew what it would really accomplish and that was darn little.

  “Where is the other officer?” Sorenson asked.

  “She got hit in the foot and was taken to the hospital.”

  “Well it’s not much but I guess we should be thankful for that. She must be very lucky,” he said.

  “Or a fast thinker. He took three shots at her altogether. She managed to dodge them.”

  “Good for her. I have enough bodies stacking up,” Sorenson said and called for a body bag.

  It was an ugly scene as they placed the lifeless body of Harry Reed in the bag and zipped it closed. There is something about the sound of the zipper, like nails on a chalkboard that is unmistakable and so final.

  Dan came over and stood by me as we watched the ambulance slowly take off. There was no use in hurrying.

  “This has got to end Bartoni,” Sorenson said coming up to join us.

  “I hear you. The thing is, we still have nothing to go on. By the time the officers call it in, it’s all over and we are left with bodies or survivors that didn’t see a thing,” I told him.

  “Hopefully patrolman Keller can shed some light on what happened.”

  “We can hope.”

  Dan and I headed to the station where we changed to a police unit and headed to the hospital. Once again I found myself waiting outside of surgery, looking at old magazines. It was well over an hour before the same doctor who had worked on patrolman Cain came out. He looked a lot better this time.

  “Detective Bartoni, Doctor Gregory. We have to stop meeting like this,” he said smiling.

  “No doubt about it.”

  “The news is much better this time. She is going to be in rehab for a while and we had to reattach one of her toes, but all in all, she is a pretty lucky lady.”

  “When will we be able to talk to her?”

  “That’s another thing. She asked the same question just before we put her under. She seems anxious to talk to you as well.”

  “So?”

  “Tomorrow I should think, barring any unforeseen complications.”

  “How long will she be laid up?”

  “We will keep her in the hospital for a day or so, just to make sure the foot is healing well. Then she will be released but she won’t be allowed to go back to work for at least two to three weeks.”

  “Alright, thank you doctor.”

  “Just glad this one turned out a little better,” he said shaking my hand.

  “That’s a relief,” Dan said as we walked away.

  “About time we got some good news.”

  “Did you notice how long he held your hand?”

  I stopped and looked at him. Here we go again.

  “Dan, he just shook my hand. He did not hold it.”

  “He didn’t shake my hand.”

  “Geez, don’t start this crap again. It was nothing, just a normal handshake. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

  “Sure looked like a little hand holding going on to me.”

  “Stop or there is going to be someone else going into surgery.”

  “Oooh. Trying to find another way to hang around longer?”

  “You are such a twerp. I don’t know why I put up with you,” I said.

  “Cause I’m right. He has the hots for you. You know it and I know it. You seem to attract doctors. Maybe it’s a thing with them, tough cop lady with handcuffs.”

  “I swear Roberts, one more word and I will commit a felony on you.”

  He was still laughing when we got in the car. What a jerk.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Jerry Lane had been the SWAT team leader for the past seven years. He and his team had been in some pretty tight situations but his leadership and tactical skills had kept his men alive. In those seven years he had only lost one man and that was due to a freak accident.

  He was frustrated because he personally knew all of the officers killed with the exception of the rookie Anderson. They had been used as back up on several missions and were fine cops, in his opinion. His other frustration was that there was nothing he or his team could do about the murder of his fellow officers. By the time the call came in there was really no need for the SWAT team. There was no one to capture.

  In the entire time he had been in charge they had shot and killed seven people and captured another nineteen. Only one incident was a blot on his record. A raid on the wrong house ended in an accidental injury to a baby. The news had dominated the papers and news broadcasts for two weeks before it was finally relegated to the back pages.

  An official inquiry resulted in clearing the SWAT team and Lane of any wrong doing. It was eventually determined that the warrant had the wrong address. A court official was reprimanded but that was the end of the situation. Several of the officers involved were demoted. At least from the department’s point of view, it was over.

  ***

  “Are you sure you want to continue on with this.”

  “Until every last one of them is dead. They killed my wife and child. An eye for an eye. If you don’t want to continue, I will find someone else to do the job,” the man said.

  “It’s not that. Hell, killing them doesn’t mean a thing to me. I just think at some point they are going to start connecting the dots. When t
hey do, it will lead back to you.”

  “Do you really think I care? They started this. I intend to finish it. There were ten involved in that raid. I won’t quit until they are all dead.”

  “Four are dead right now and two are wounded. The first two I shot at was just to get a feel for the gun and the technique I was going to use. It is ironic that they happen to be the ones investigating the other shootings,” he replied.

  “I don’t care about them. I want those involved with the raid eliminated.”

  “Then I’ll continue on. Who are the next two?”

  “These two,” he said handing over an envelope. They were both part of the raid. Make sure you eliminate both of them.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” the shooter said as he picked up the file and the envelope.

  The file contained a map and the approximate patrol schedules of the two officers. He had spent months following them and mapping out their locations. He even knew where they ate most of their meals. All the shooter had to do was find the most likely location that offered not only a good place to shoot from but a way to get out of the area once the shots were taken.

  So far the warehouse district and downtown area had worked well but he knew it was just a matter of time before they started putting extra patrols and even helicopters in the air. Every time another cop went down his chances of getting caught escalated.

  He knew he was going to have to take longer shots to give himself a better opportunity to get away. The problem would be that the longer the shot the more things that could go wrong. Still, all things being equal, it was the best option he had.

  He looked at the paper again. The name meant nothing to him except money. Every cop that died made him twenty thousand dollars richer. In less than a week, he had earned eighty thousand dollars. Not too bad.

  His next job was to drive the same route the cops would be following. That way he could find a good spot to set up his ambush.

  ***

  Dan and I headed back to the hospital. I was really hoping he wouldn’t start in on Doctor Gregory again. It was nothing but a hand shake. Geez, people do it every day so why was he making such a big fuss out of it?