Kill the Heroes

by David Thurlo

  “Yeah, well, you might want to rethink that and get a generic rental—at least until we nail the terrorist.”

  Charlie had no comeback for that. He pulled over and parked next to the curb on the street beside the small apartment complex where Gordon lived.

  Turner stepped out, yelled, “Thanks for the ride,” and walked toward three cars parked side by side. Charlie drove off, looking in the rearview mirror, wondering which car was his—and what Davis, now Turner, was really doing here.

  Once Turner was out of sight, Charlie brought out his cell and called Gordon. His gut told him it might be a good idea to stay at his pal’s apartment after all, at least for tonight.

  Chapter Five

  “Ruth’s here,” Gordon announced, looking up at the camera monitor on the office wall from his side of the big desk. Charlie, looking over the inventory on the FOB OK website, turned his head toward the door, hearing a key in the lock.

  Ruth stepped inside, then looked toward the office, eyes open wide and her lips tightly pressed together. “Charlie, are you okay? I heard about the shooting last night on the radio coming over here.”

  Charlie stood. “I’m fine and the police are already on the job. Nancy—Detective Medina—was here and is handling the case. So far, like the shooting in the park, they don’t have any idea who’s behind the incident.”

  “Almost getting shot and killed is ‘an incident’?” Ruth exclaimed, coming over and giving him a warm hug. She glanced over at Gordon, who was also on his feet. “Were you there too, Gordon?” she added, stepping back from Charlie and wiping away a tear. “The reporter said there was a witness, but didn’t mention a name. The authorities suggested that it was the same terrorist that attacked us all in the park.”

  “Good morning, Ruth,” Jake greeted, now entering the office. He’d been out front, placing the cash drawers in the registers. He put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a comforting squeeze.

  “It’s time to be more careful with our safety here at the shop. A while ago we were talking about this,” Gordon said, “and we’re now going to follow a new protocol.” He nodded to Charlie.

  Charlie’s words were clear and clinical. “Nobody stays here after dark, and we always check the cameras, front and back, before stepping outside. If another vehicle or person who we don’t recognize is visible anywhere down the alley, we need to be extremely careful. If we’re at all uncertain, we need to take someone with us, or call the police.”

  “Also, be alert to anyone passing by to the north along the side street,” Jake added, looking to Charlie, who nodded.

  “A drive-by from that direction would be at nearly point-blank range,” Ruth said. “At least, the way we park, nose in, the driver’s door is on the south side. We’ll have the vehicle for protection.” She sat down in a chair Charlie had moved over for her.

  “True, and Gordon got permission to redirect Frank and Linda’s north-facing alley camera to get a wider angle,” Charlie said. “It’s not going to give us a warning view, but maybe we can get a look if the guy with the rifle decides to do a recon first. We might end up with an image and a possible face to connect to the shooter.”

  “If you think it’ll help, I can call Rick and have him put one of the door locks on the front, the kind with a buzzer, where one of us has to let in the customer. Like with those big-city apartment buildings,” Jake said. “It’ll give us a moment to take a look at who wants inside.”

  Charlie looked at Gordon, who shook his head.

  “That’s going to annoy our customers, guys,” Gordon said. “And, unless the terrorist, or whoever the shooter is, suddenly decides to go postal, we’re not likely to have someone burst in here with a gun.”

  “Yeah, it’s not like that’s ever happened,” Jake said with a straight face.

  Ruth groaned. “At least not recently.”

  She turned in her chair and reached onto a low shelf for her coffee mug, the one with the Philadelphia Eagles logo. The phone in her purse began to chime and she grabbed it instead. “Who could that be?”

  Charlie saw the smile on her face turn sober, then grim, as she listened to whoever was calling. Hopefully, nothing had happened to Rene, who was supposed to be at school. Charlie looked away and tried to focus on something else, thinking it rude to listen in, but when she spoke the caller’s name he immediately knew who it was.

  “I’m at work,” Ruth said, then paused for a response. “I’ll call Rene’s school and let them know what’s going on, and I’ll meet you here at FOB Pawn in an hour. Yes, I’ll stay inside. Good-bye.” She ended the call, then noted all three men were waiting for details.

  “I’ll tell you what’s going on, but first I need to call Principal Bennett and ask her to check on my son. They need to keep him inside at school.” She looked down at her phone, entered a number, then stood and walked out of the office into the hall.

  A few minutes later, she returned. “Rene is safe.”

  “It sounds like there’s a problem that you needed to know about,” Charlie prodded.

  Ruth nodded. “That was Deputy Marshal Stannic, my contact with the witness protection program. He’s got some bad news he needs to share with me—us, actually. He’s on his way here now.”

  “Is this about Lawrence?” Charlie asked. Lawrence Westerfield was Ruth’s ex-husband.

  “Unfortunately, yes. According to the authorities at the federal prison where he’s been locked up, Lawrence has disappeared.”

  “Disappeared, as in escaped?” Gordon asked.

  “Apparently,” Ruth replied. “That’s why I’m being warned.”

  “When did Lawrence disappear?” Jake asked softly. “Last night?”

  “No. Six days ago,” Ruth whispered, her voice fading away.

  “Crap!” Charlie muttered. Ruth’s ex-husband was the lowest excuse for a human being. Lawrence had kidnaped Rene, then tried to kill Ruth, Charlie, and Gordon before he’d finally been taken into custody. The man had been convicted of kidnapping, murder, and a host of major financial crimes, thanks largely to Ruth’s testimony and the physical evidence she’d managed to provide. Ruth had only recently felt safe enough to leave the witness protection program and begin using her maiden name.

  “If he’s had that much time on the run, he could have been in this area for maybe two or three days,” Jake observed softly. “More than that if he flew here.”

  “Maybe you were the target all along, Charlie. Westerfield promised to kill you, remember?” Gordon replied. “What if he missed during the ceremony and hit the wrong guy, then tried to make up for it in the alley last night?”

  “And tried to misdirect the cops with a fake terrorist threat,” Charlie concluded. “It’s thin, but feasible, I suppose. The guy is a skilled manipulator, and he’s been in this area before. He also knows where I work.”

  Ruth sat down and reached for her coffee mug, her hand shaking. “Lawrence was an avid hunter and he had several rifles and shotguns. Just when I thought we were safe again.”

  “Even if the shooter isn’t connected to that weasel, we still have to be very careful, guys, and look after Ruth and Rene,” Jake said, gently putting his hand on Ruth’s shoulder.

  “Let’s get proactive,” Charlie suggested.

  * * *

  Charlie was out with Jake by the front register, standing by while a couple in their late twenties searched through the vinyl collection of perhaps five hundred albums of all genres. The front door opened, ringing the bell atop the doorjamb, and in walked Deputy Marshal Peter Stannic. Wearing jeans, a polo shirt, and poplin jacket, the man was dressed in New Mexican casual rather than the business suit that would have made him stand out in this neighborhood.

  He nodded to Charlie and Jake, both of whom he’d met on earlier occasions when the Feds had been protecting their key witness, Ruth. Spotting Ruth and Gordon in the office, he nodded in that direction. “I’ll be in there, boys. We all need to talk once you can get away.”

 
; Jake turned to Charlie. “Go ahead, boss, I’ve got things handled. I’ll join you later.”

  “Okay, but if you need any help, just call out,” Charlie said, then walked down the aisle to join the three already in the back.

  Ruth was still seated, but Gordon and the fed were standing when Charlie joined them.

  After a quick handshake, Stannic began. “I’ll brief you on the events as I know them, then I’ll answer as many questions as I can. But first I have a very important question,” he added, looking from Charlie to Gordon.

  “Do we think the shooter could have been Westerfield or someone he hired?” Charlie asked. “It’s possible he might have been gunning for me, and the shooter ended up thinking I was the guy to the right of Ruth, not the left. At that distance and in twilight and shadows, it could have been a simple misidentification. The pilot and I were the same height, build, and hair color, and neither of us were in our Army uniforms.”

  Stannic nodded. “I’ve had some conversations with law enforcement, including APD detectives Medina and DuPree, and although they agree that the attacker in both incidents was probably the same person, they’ve concluded that it’s a lone-wolf terrorist, not Westerfield, and his escape from prison is coincidental. They’re basing their theories on the claims made in those notes delivered to the school and the one last night. Found near here, right?”

  “At the south end of the alley,” Charlie confirmed.

  “But it could have been Lawrence, or one of his people?” Ruth asked. “Is that what you’re suggesting?”

  “I’m here because we can’t rule that out, Ruth. Your ex kidnapped your son and caused several deaths—not to mention his history of abuse,” Stannic explained.

  “The bastard is capable of anything,” Gordon proclaimed. “But he was supposed to be locked up in a federal prison. What happened?”

  “Okay, here’s what I know. Westerfield was attacked by another inmate during an exercise period when several prisoners were in the same area. He took a considerable beating, apparently, and was transported to a hospital ER for treatment. Now local law enforcement have concluded that Westerfield set the whole thing up. On the way to the hospital the EMT vehicle was disabled and attacked by four men wearing masks. One of the guards was shot. The other guard and two medics were Tasered. Westerfield fled with the assailants, and it took a while before officers arrived on scene. The attackers took all their victims’ cell phones and radios, and put the vehicle communication gear out of action. The victims had to flag down a passing motorist. Fortunately, the man who was shot will make it.”

  “Why wasn’t Ruth notified immediately? Who in the marshal’s office dropped the ball?” Charlie demanded.

  “It was a major bureaucratic screwup, and all I can do is apologize. With Ruth no longer in the program, WITSEC wasn’t informed that Westerfield had escaped until last night. Prison officials and local law enforcement were scrambling to protect their local community, focusing on finding the fugitive and his accomplices before they did any more harm. I didn’t know about any of this until I got a call from my superior. The marshals service already has a fugitive task force at work trying to locate him, but hadn’t notified witness protection until they’d run out of leads and began probing into Westerfield’s background. We’re forced to be very compartmentalized, and the identity and location of our witnesses are based on a need to know. I was told that those involved thought Ruth was still under our protection.”

  “Are you saying that there are no leads at all concerning Lawrence’s location right now, and that Charlie and I are in danger?” Ruth asked.

  “We just don’t know,” Stannic replied. “I’m here to offer you protection until your ex-husband is back in custody. Mr. Henry, I’m sorry that we can’t do the same for you—your testimony was never used in court. All this despite you and Mr. Sweeney’s help in recovering Rene and apprehending Lawrence Westerfield.”

  “I’m capable of looking after myself,” Charlie replied, “and so is Gordon. But how are you going to keep Ruth safe?”

  After last night’s inaccurate gunfire, he was now wondering if Ruth had been the primary target at the ceremony as well, and the sniper had missed, striking Whitaker instead. Ruth’s ex-husband had abused her during their marriage, and hunted her for over a year after she fled her home with their son. She’d later provided testimony that had sent him to prison for life. Lawrence wanted revenge, he’d made that clear months ago. Maybe he was just a lousy shot.

  “We’ll put her in a safe house in another community, in Arizona or Utah. And she’ll need a new identity, of course. It may just be temporary, but that all depends on how quickly we locate Westerfield,” Stannic answered.

  “So the only good news for Ruth is if there’s really a terrorist sniper out there, shooting at our most decorated people,” Jake called out, having arrived in the office just a minute ago. “And we won’t know that with any certainty until the next attack.”

  “I agree with the terrorist theory. Either way, I’m not running and hiding anymore. We defeated Lawrence once before and we’ll do it again. I’m staying right where I am,” Ruth said, reaching over and placing her hand on Charlie’s. “I feel safer around the people I love. Forget about the relocation, Deputy Stannic.”

  “We’ll change our routines and look out for each other,” Charlie said, looking over at Gordon, who nodded. Russell Turner was out there now as well, keeping watch, and Charlie had already decided to let the CIA operative know how important Ruth and Rene were to him.

  “The sniper, regardless of who he is, may not know where any of us live. If he’s going to make another move against any of us, he’ll have to follow us home,” Gordon pointed out. “If we can predict his movements…”

  Stannic nodded. “Then we locate him, set up a trap, and hopefully take him down. Fugitive retrieval is one of our primary missions, but we’ll have to do this without any additional support from the marshal’s service unless we get some evidence that Westerfield is connected to the attacks. But I’ll be keeping an eye on Ruth, especially at night and when she’s out on the road with Rene.”

  “And if you only catch a terrorist who’d just shot and killed a decorated soldier, that won’t hurt your résumé,” Jake interjected. “I like a good offense, people. If there’s anything I can do to help, count me in.”

  Charlie looked from face to face, a plan forming in his head. “Let’s contact the detectives and our other sources and see what we can set up for this afternoon and evening. But don’t anyone go outside without backup—just in case.”

  * * *

  It was six o’clock in the evening, and Charlie was sitting between Ruth and Rene on the sofa in her apartment, having dinner on old TV trays borrowed from FOB Pawn as they watched the local news. The seven-year-old seemed to be enjoying his meal, a take-out sandwich from Firehouse Subs, but Ruth ate slowly, her attention focused on the television.

  The lead story had focused on the new terrorist threat to the community, and Charlie had been mentioned as the most recent target. The death of Captain Whitaker and the hunt for his killer was the main focus, of course, and sidebar interviews followed with law enforcement officials, politicians like Ed Humphrey, and a brief, anguished comment by Whitaker’s sister, Janice. The captain’s ex-wife, Patricia Azok, was mentioned by name but not interviewed.

  Charlie looked over and saw tears in Ruth’s eyes. She caught him looking, then shook her head, trying to smile.

  “I’m so sorry for all the innocent people who’ve been part of this nightmare, Charlie, and especially the victim and his family. But I feel guilty right now. I was annoyed because we have to sit here eating our dinner off of TV trays instead of at the dining room table. We’d gotten used to staying away from windows when Rene and I were on our own. But this last year I thought we didn’t have to worry anymore about being seen.”

  “I’m sorry, but we have to be very careful for a while, Ruth.”

  “Hey, I like eating and
watching TV at the same time,” Rene exclaimed. “Besides, Mr. Henry, Mom says you’ll keep us safe from any dangerous people.”

  “You can count on me, Rene,” Charlie said, trying to manage a serious smile, if one really existed.

  “Don’t get too used to this, Rene. Civilized people eat together at the table, with family, and we don’t watch TV or text during dinner,” Ruth said softly, looking over at Charlie, who had his smartphone beside his plate.

  “We don’t have to be civilized all the time, Mom. That would be uncivilized,” Rene responded with a grin. “Besides, what about the Super Bowl? We watch it from the couch and always eat hot dogs and stuff.”

  “I think he’s been spending too much time around Gordon,” Charlie whispered. “Sorry about the phone—I need to stay in touch with our watchers.”

  “I understand,” Ruth replied. “I don’t know if I’m hoping they find someone out there, or that they don’t.”

  “I prefer bad news or good news more than no news. If we want this to end…”

  “I so wanted to get on with my life, Charlie. Our lives,” she said softly, placing her hand on his. Then she crinkled her nose with a teasing grin.

  “Are you flirting, or was that an itch?”

  “You decide.”

  Charlie gazed into her sparkling blue-green eyes, his heart beating faster. “No offense to the offspring, but this wasn’t the way I wanted us to have our first dinner, Ruth.”

  Rene looked at him for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed in question. “You mean, back at the table?” he asked. “Or are you and Mom talking in code?”

  Ruth laughed, then so did Charlie.

  * * *

  It was ten in the evening now, and Rene had long since been put to bed. Charlie, pistol by his side on the sofa, was checking his cell phone once more. Nobody had reported seeing anyone sitting in their vehicle in the area, or had observed anything other than a police unit pass by more than once. Gordon had been approached by an officer who was checking his presence, but that had been cleared up with a call to Detective DuPree.