Dying For LA

by Ian Jones

  ‘I just persuaded him that as plenty of money had been made the fairest solution would be to pay what he owed as he had originally agreed. And he decided I was right.’

  Brady say back heavily in his chair and smiled despite himself.

  ‘And he agreed just like that?’

  John nodded.

  ‘You know this Flanagan?’ Truman asked Brady in a low voice leaning toward him.

  Brady raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Sure. Age-old scams in housing. Every trick in the book and obvious too. Rents on properties not his, selling vacant lots, you name it. He was at it for years. It finally caught up with him, he got five in Ironwood. I haven’t heard his name in … has to be ten years.’

  ‘Well, it’s easy to check out then,’ John commented.

  Brady nodded.

  ‘Oh yeah, but like I said, that’s not why we’re talking here. I’m just trying to get the backstory, we need to understand who you are and how you came to be there. I’m sure you understand the seriousness of the situation.’

  John looked at both men. Truman stood up and leaned on the table next to John.

  ‘You don’t look very happy Mr Smith. Well let me say I’m not either. This is all too neat right? You just happened to be right there. Just happened to be in LA in the first place when we get a terrorist strike …’

  ‘They weren’t terrorists,’ John interrupted, talking to Brady.

  Truman’s face got even redder.

  ‘What? What crap is this? You’re saying they’re not terrorists? I knew you were up to your neck. What the fuck is your involvement with this?’

  ‘Calm down Dennis,’ Brady cut in. ‘Sit down. What do you mean John? Explain.’

  John turned away and spoke deliberately to Brady, ignoring the stewing Truman.

  ‘It’s simple chief. I was there. They didn’t spray bullets. I hit the deck and it was all single shots. There was a short burst at the end but that’s it. When I came back after chasing the guy up the escalator I looked, and all the cameras had been shot out, plus the assistance phone. It was targeted, the terrorists I’ve had dealings with don’t shoot that well.’

  ‘Bullshit,’ muttered Truman. But Brady was looking at John. He was interested. There was something.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘It was a hit. Tell me, anything at all in the victims? How many people were killed? Anyone stand out? Anything different or unusual?’

  ‘Don’t tell him anything!’ Truman shouted.

  Brady sighed.

  ‘Dennis, please. Ok John. Yeah, there is something odd I suppose. There were twenty-one people on the platform including you. Sixteen men and five women. Five people killed, nobody else shot other than the three men that you took care of.’

  John looked patiently at Brady who sighed and continued.

  ‘It was all five women shot and killed. Just the women.’

  John was shocked.

  ‘All the women were killed?’

  ‘Yeah. Of course, we don’t know if that’s the real story, you interrupted them. Maybe everyone would have been dead now, you included.’

  ‘Yeah, well maybe. To me they seemed like it was done, they didn’t get what they were looking for. But I didn’t realise it was the women they were after. I can’t believe I didn’t notice.’

  Brady rubbed his eyes.

  ‘Yes. Four of them were standing in two pairs and one was on her own. Youngest thirty, oldest forty-eight. Four dead before the paramedics got to the scene and the fifth passed away on the journey to the hospital.’

  ‘So, it was a hit,’ John mused.

  ‘How do you figure that smartass?’ Truman asked.

  John looked at him, his patience running out.

  ‘Jesus, how the fuck did you make captain, you ignorant prick? Of course it was a fucking hit. One of the women at a guess. But they didn’t know what she looked like I reckon, maybe they only had a vague description, and maybe didn’t even have that so they killed the lot.’

  ‘And you just happened to be there, in the right place.’

  ‘No Truman, in the wrong place. At the wrong time. It was self-preservation, my instincts. The gun was there and they were standing right next to me. So I acted. You know what? Do me for murder. I’ll make my phone call now.’

  Brady stood up.

  ‘Let’s just calm down here OK? John, what you did tonight was heroic, to say the least. It’s unheard of. Captain Truman wants to get the facts straight is all. There’s gonna be a shitload of paperwork that’s for damn sure. But right now we have a problem, with you.’

  John shook his head sorrowfully.

  ‘Really, you do surprise me. What now?’

  Brady looked at Truman.

  ‘Dennis, maybe you’d care to explain …’

  ‘Right, well Mr Smith, we have your passport. Lots of trips in and out of the United States.’

  ‘Yeah well, my daughter lives here. New York.’

  ‘Right. So, we made your passport and guess what. All we can get is your name and date of birth. Nothing else. It’s all locked down, we can’t access any more information at all. So, we go to the CIA, they’ll help us. Bur guess what? Soon as they know it’s you they tell us it’s gonna take some time. Now why the fuck would that be? It stinks. Who are you?’

  ‘I used to work for the government. Maybe this is over your pay grade, captain Truman.’

  Truman looked disgusted. Brady laid his hand on the other man’s arm.

  ‘Dennis, why don’t you go see if we gotten a reply yet? Go on. We’re done here anyways, it’s getting late. I’ll get Mr Smith comfortable again.

  Truman angrily stared at both men and then walked out, slamming the door behind him.

  Brady looked at John.

  ‘Dennis has a difficult job to do. He’s quite new here, big shoes to fill. Captain Ryan ran it a long time, well liked, well respected. He was shot, some gangbanger up from South Central. He was lucky to survive, but he’ll never walk again. So Dennis has a tough job replacing him.’

  ‘I’m not interested chief. I don’t care.’

  Brady leaned forward earnestly, trying another tack, he needed John on side and they both knew it.

  ‘John, you know what you’re doing don’t you. I heard what you said about the terrorists you have dealt with. Who says that? I got to say I never met anyone who deals with terrorists like you did. I’m looking at you and what happened tonight hasn’t fazed you at all. You say you worked for the UK government, what was it you did?’

  ‘It’s not up for discussion chief.’

  ‘Look, I’ve listened to what you have said and I have to admit it does make sense. But other departments are involved, obviously, we hit all the major action buttons. A bunch of guys loose with AKs in a Downtown Metro station, it’s big news. Huge. We never had it before and it’s bigger that I can deal with, that’s for damn sure.’

  ‘I get that chief. And I understand that something like this goes down and it just happens that a bloke with no business to decides to pick up a gun and shoots three of the men. So of course there is suspicion, maybe I’m even one of them in the first place. I get that.’

  ‘Well Captain Truman is …’

  John had heard enough, and interrupted.

  ‘Truman is an arsehole. I know what he’s thinking. He has had this land in his lap. Promotion written all over it if he nicks someone early. Don’t deny it. Look chief I’ve seen his type before and I would bet my house you have too. But if he tries to do it at my expense than he’s gonna regret it.’

  Brady sighed. He looked like he was about to say something then changed his mind.

  ‘Look John, I’m sorry about this but I need to keep you here until morning. I have to do it all properly. The CIA will get back to me and I’ve got a feeling it will be all clear. Of course we’re not looking to charge you with homicide or anything. There’s every chance you saved a lot of lives, including your own.’

  He stood up, and resigned to h
is fate John did too and allowed himself to be led back down to the cell.

  The sergeant came back down with him and fussed around making sure John was comfortable and then left. John took the easy option and removed his boots and jeans and lay down on the bunk. He wondered if he would be bothered again until morning and decided to wait and see. Sleep when you can, it had always worked well for him in the past and within a short time he was out.

  Chapter Three

  Surprisingly, and despite everything, in the end he slept really well, and was woken up when a different officer came in with some breakfast. Somebody had been out to pick something up for him, so John imagined there must have been some changes overnight. He ate everything and drank down the coffee and then stood up stretching and touching his toes several times. He felt refreshed and ready; it was just past seven in the morning.

  He put on his jeans and boots and then settled down comfortably to wait, he was good at that.

  After fifteen minutes a new uniform sergeant appeared and politely escorted him back up to the booking area and returned his belongings, he didn’t speak very much while he was doing it so John wasn’t sure if he was completely free to leave at last. He noticed a man watching who walked over as John was putting everything back in his pockets.

  ‘Hi John,’ the man said, ‘Care to come with me?’

  John looked at the newcomer. He was older, probably the same age as Brady, but was solid with a street fighter’s face topped with unruly grey hair. He wore dark jeans, a plaid shirt and a persistent smile as he led John out the doors chatting affably about nothing in particular. To John’s relief they passed by the interview rooms and up a couple of flights of stairs. The man stopped at the top by a set of doors.

  ‘I should probably introduce myself, sorry I always forget that. My wife chews my ass off about it. Anyways, I’m Chief Keane, pleased to meet you. Call me Ron.’

  He held out his hand and John shook it, a firm handshake.

  Keane pushed open the doors and led the way into a large open-plan office.

  ‘Say John, I think you’ve been stuck dealing with some assholes up to now, let’s hope these next assholes ain’t, well … assholes.’

  ‘You say you’re the chief?’ John asked as they crossed the room.

  ‘Yeah, but not here in glamour town. Real police. Special department.’

  He gave John a wink and led the way into a conference room with a big table in the centre.

  Chief Brady was already seated, as was Truman. There was a large black man wearing a sharp suit and a tie looking at him with interest who stood up when they came in and shook John’s hand.

  ‘Hi John, I’m Kyle Warner,’ he told him passing over a business card.

  ‘Thanks,’ John said and flipped the card. CIA.

  They all sat down and John looked around expectantly.

  ‘We’re waiting for one other,’ Brady announced. ‘We sent a car to the airport to get him.’

  ‘It’s a her. No need to hang around, we may as well get started,’ Warner said.

  They asked John to repeat exactly what had gone down at the Metro station and he did so, it was obvious they had already been briefed as nobody showed any reaction. Warner made a few notes but asked no questions.

  ‘So John, you told Chief Brady that in your opinion it wasn’t a terrorist attack?’ Keane asked.

  John nodded and explained his rationale based on the shots that were fired.

  Warner also nodded. ‘Yeah, and I agree with you. I got the full crime scene reports and it’s just as you say. We are leaving it with the press that it’s terrorists at the moment so you will be seeing it all over the news but I want to keep most of this quiet for now until we find out more. I have to say John; from our side I’m fucking grateful you were there. Every witness from the platform confirmed what you did. You’re a hero.’

  ‘John, what can you tell us about the men down in the Metro? We got three dead guys, but so far only one ID,’ Keane asked.

  ‘I’m not sure about their nationality. Two of them, and I was on the ground so I am guessing this was one of the men standing next to me; spoke to another at the far end, maybe the guy I shot on the escalator. I recognised it somehow, but I still can’t place it. Eastern, maybe Arabic at a guess, but I can’t be sure.’

  Keane produced a photograph and placed it on the table. It was a young man, mid-twenties with short dark wiry hair and an expressionless face. He was standing on a flight of steps looking down at the camera, wearing a dark green coat done all the way up.

  ‘This is Pol Ritorsky. Polish, of Russian descent. Twenty-seven. No record of immigration into the US, but we got a hit on Interpol. He is wanted in Lithuania for the murder of a doctor there. He disappeared almost a year ago, and we think he came in through Canada about six months back as it looks like he may have been on a boat that came into Quebec, we are doing all we can to track him.’

  John looked at the photo. It could have been one of the men on the platform or the escalator. He hadn’t heard anyone speaking Polish.

  ‘But they did speak in English. One of them spoke, but it wasn’t his native language, then another said; “It’s not here,” but he sounded clear as a bell,’ he told them.

  ‘Hmmm,’ mused Keane, scratching his head. ‘It’s not here?’

  ‘That’s the thing. That’s why it was a hit. They were looking for someone. Or more likely something judging by what John heard them say,’ Warner said, reading from a sheet of paper. ‘It’s right here, John said it last night. We should have got going a lot earlier.’ He looked accusingly across at Brady and Truman.

  ‘No argument from me,’ Keane agreed.

  ‘But why make it look like a terrorist attack?’ Brady asked, speaking for the first time. ‘It makes no sense; they must know how we would react.’

  ‘Yeah, and that’s why they did it. Because they know the panic it will set in and know what we will throw at it. The fact it was a hit will never be picked up. There will be dozens of us on the plot, different agencies, huge amount of publicity. Perfect cover,’ Warner stated.

  ‘It just worked out, and lucky for us, Mr Smith here happened to be there. If he wasn’t, we would be chasing our asses, and likely a whole lot more dead,’ Keane said.

  Warner nodded sombrely.

  ‘For sure. Leave maybe a couple of survivors, no reliable witnesses, then nobody can really tell us anything. We have a bunch of armed terrorists on the loose and we got to protect the city. But we know different thanks to Mr Smith. We need to start at the beginning, Captain Truman did you get anything from the surrounding cameras?’

  Truman stood up, then sat down again quickly.

  ‘Well, we picked us up some footage. We got them arriving and leaving in a Ford Transit van, it’s an old model, with fraudulent plates on it, so we got no hits anyplace. Five men got out, all wearing some kinda uniform it looks like. Footage ain’t very clear but we sent it off for definition, we may get lucky.’

  He placed several black and white photographs on the table, and they were passed around. They were all very similar, just taken from different angles and locations. Five men; getting out of a van, crossing the road, gathering outside the Metro station and finally entering. Then a couple of shots of two men getting back into the van.

  ‘Nothing from inside the station,’ Truman continued, ‘They shot out all the cameras as they went through, must have checked it out beforehand.’

  John picked up a picture. The men were all wearing basically the same clothing. All wore beanie hats, and all had their heads lowered. He looked through all the photos again, not a single face to be seen clearly at any point.

  ‘Yeah, they are savvy to the cameras,’ Warner said. ‘I can’t see definition helping any.’

  ‘You said they spoke to one another in another language as well as English, you really can’t think what it might be?’ Keane asked.

  John shook his head.

  ‘No, and I know I should do. I’ve hear
d it before. It’s frustrating. But they definitely said “Nothing there” and “It’s not here” in English, plain as day. They were going through bags, maybe every one there for all I know.’

  ‘Every bag?’ Keane asked, looking at Truman.

  ‘We don’t know for sure, but we think it’s likely,’ Truman answered earnestly, keen to be involved.

  ‘That’s not good enough. These are the things we have to be definite about.’

  Truman coloured and looked down.

  ‘And we need to discuss the 1-Too that was carved on the guns, right?’ Brady asked.

  Warner sat back and tapped his fingers on the desk.

  ‘I’ve seen it before,’ John told them.

  ‘Yeah, and me,’ Warner said flatly. ‘You go first Mr Smith.’

  ‘It’s just John. I worked for the government for a while, a case came in. I wasn’t assigned to it, but other people were working on it. 1-Too was at the heart of it. It was a big deal, at least for a while.’

  Keane looked around and produced a tatty notebook and a chewed pen. He looked all around the room.

  ‘OK. Start again. We need to make an action list.’

  ***

  Samantha King walked into the newsroom, aware that Frank Moran was glowering at her from his office but she ignored it. Nothing new there.

  She dropped into her seat and threw her bag onto the desk with a loud sigh.

  Opposite her Simon Gray gave her a shy smile.

  ‘Want to see?’ he asked.

  ‘Definitely.’

  They stood up and eagerly she followed him across to the editing suite. He sat down and pushed out a chair for her next to him, then started manipulating the controls along the desktop. The large monitor fizzed and blurred then replayed the scenes outside the Metro station the previous night. There was a lot of footage, neatly put together by Simon into a three-minute segment, Sammy would record an audio over the top of it for transmission.