[Sign Behind the Crime 02.0] Aries

by Ronnie Allen

  Frank and Sam sat in the rear as Nick eyed the GPS locator on the computer that lay on the passenger seat. They were driving on the Gowanas Parkway, which led into the Prospect Expressway into Ocean Parkway. There was so much traffic here that putting on the siren would have been for naught. According to the GPS map, Withers and his wife were still in New Jersey but were heading back in the direction of the Verrazano Bridge. Their projected route, if they didn’t detour, would go over the bridge onto the Belt Parkway to Flatbush Avenue North then onto the Marine Parkway Bridge. Frank wanted to take them down before or after the bridge.

  FBI agents still hadn’t arrived at the precinct. That was fine with him. He wanted the bust. And he knew Sam was content with that, as well. It would be too painful for her to hand over her long hours of hard work. Loo had let them go, saying he’d take care of the paper work. One thing about Loo, he was a compassionate guy.

  Frank spoke to himself the entire drive. He couldn’t believe this day was here. In a couple of hours Withers and his wife would be in custody. For over two years he had planned what he’d do the guy who took Jen away from him. After he beat him to a pulp with every martial arts move he knew, and he knew them all, he’d break his neck. The guy deserved to rot in hell. And he would. Frank could kick himself that, no way in hell, in reality, would he be able to do this. He had to remain functioning and out of prison for his son. His whole world revolved around Frankie.

  One thing, he had learned through martial arts, was to be humble. To remain clear thinking. To remain mentally balanced. To use brute force only when necessary. He couldn’t risk losing his license, his standing in the MMA community, or his gym. Those guys needed him. He had to continue to be their example that violence shouldn’t beget violence.

  Restraint today would be the greatest personal test of his life.

  Nick gave them an update. “They’re on the Verrazano, now.”

  “Something isn’t right. Shouldn’t be this easy. Could you get a visual? Was it confirmed that it is Withers and his wife in that car?”

  “We’re following based on the ping on his department-issued phone.”

  “Any facial features?”

  “Just a dot from here, Frank.”

  “All right. Continue.”

  Nick headed onto the Prospect Expressway in bumper-to-bumper traffic. He slammed his fist on the steering wheel. “We better make it.” He put in a call. “Loo, any updates?”

  “Yes. Agents are here now. Very impressed with Detective Wright’s analyses.”

  Frank patted Sam on her thigh and smiled.

  “They have your location and Withers’s. There are unmarked units on the side of the road at the Belt Parkway entrance. They’ll stay back. Don’t want a problem with civilians on the road.”

  On the three-lane Prospect Expressway, an accident caused a merge into two lanes. After the accident, it opened up and, a mile later, Nick merged left, entering onto Ocean Parkway at Church Avenue. His siren went on and he increased speed, running lights, as cars moved over.

  Frank became more on edge as adrenalin surged through his system. He couldn’t wait to give Jen’s parents closure. Their only daughter had been taken from them, stateside. As military parents, and having a daughter in the service as well, they always had to be prepared that there would be a chance Jen wouldn’t return to them. But she did. With not so much as a scratch from Iraq. They had truly felt blessed. For eight years.

  Twenty minutes later, a voice came through on Nick’s speaker. “FBI Special Agent, Brett Case, here. They entered the Belt. I have our other cars on my radar, too. We’re following Withers. In a new Lexus.”

  “When the hell did he get a Lexus?” Nick asked.

  “Don’t know, Detective.”

  “Probably got it when he saw the end coming. His last hoorah. Bet it was close to the last two weeks, when this little pip--” Frank patted Sam’s thigh again. “--showed up.”

  She squeezed his hand and smiled.

  Nick made it down tree-lined Ocean Parkway in ten minutes. This parkway had three lanes going in each direction, separated by an island, with service lanes on either side. For most of its length, expensive one and two family homes outlined the service lanes. Nick turned left onto Avenue R, all the way through to Fillmore Avenue, around the park and onto Flatbush Avenue.

  This commercial avenue was always crammed with trucks and cars. Today was no different. Nick stayed in the left lane and drivers did respect the siren.

  About a mile down on Flatbush Avenue, close to the Marine Park Bridge entrance, Nick spotted Withers’s vehicle, with an FBI unmarked staying way back. “There he is, Frank.”

  Agent Case interjected again. “Detectives, I thought Withers was African American and his wife, Caucasian.”

  “Yes. What are you saying, Agent?”

  “The woman is mixed ethnicity, and the man looks Hawaiian or Asian.”

  “Take them, now!” Frank yelled.

  Sirens rang as three FBI vehicles surrounded the Lexus, forcing it to pull over next to the toll lanes on the bridge. Nick pulled up behind the last car.

  The driver of the Lexus rolled down his and the passenger side window as directed by the bellow of the horn from the lead FBI car. Nick, Frank, and Sam exited their car and stayed behind but within hearing distance.

  In broken English the driver addressed the agent who came toward his car on the passenger side and flashed his badge. “What? Agent? Why you stop me?”

  “Do you have a weapon?”

  “No. No weapon.”

  “Who told you to go this way? Over the bridge.?”

  “We live there. In Atlantic Beach.”

  “Where are you coming from?”

  “Hotel Calgary. Atlantic City.”

  “Let me see your ID. Any receipt from the hotel?”

  “Yes. Yes.” The man opened the center compartment, took out the hotel receipt, and handed it to the agent who handed it to another agent. Then the driver pulled his ID out of his wallet.

  “We were following you because of the signal on your smartphone. Did someone give you a new phone?”

  “No. No phone.”

  Frank lost patience. “We need to search your car. Step out, please.”

  The man and woman exited the car and were led over to the grassy area, now browned from the late fall weather. Shaking, they held hands.

  Nick and Frank each took one side of the car. They overturned the carpets. Opened the glove compartment, checked the middle compartment, the trunk, the compartments on the inside base of the doors, the pockets on the back of the rear seats, the rear cup holders, the middle compartment in the rear.

  Each search yielded nothing.

  Sam slipped into the driver’s seat and pulled down the small compartment above the rear view mirror that was meant to hold sunglasses. Withers’s phone fell into her hand.

  Frank stood with his hands on his waist. “How the hell did you know that?”

  “It was the only place left. Nothing genius.”

  Frank stormed over to the decoy couple and waved the phone in front of the guy’s face. “Who gave you this?”

  “Don’t know! Don’t know!”

  The man was so fearful, Frank noticed urine dripping down his pants leg.

  Sam looked at the ID the agent held then walked over to the man. “Mr. Chang, did anyone at the hotel look inside your car?”

  “What you mean?”

  “Well, this is a new car. Did anyone seem to be interested about the model and want to see the inside? Anyone say they wanted to buy one?”

  “Yes. Yes. A man. A black man.”

  “Do you know where this man was going after he looked in your car?”

  “No. He didn’t say.”

  “Thank you.” She walked away.

  “What, Sam?”

  “Withers must have looked around, made friends, and planted his phone when pretending to look at the interior. That leaves us nowhere. But I’d bring them in and in
terrogate.”

  The FBI man smiled at her. “Detective Wright, you continue to impress. Lieutenant Rojas, told us you’re new. Well done, first week.”

  “Thank you. Second week.” Sam smiled. “And you are?”

  “FBI SAC, Special Agent in Charge, Brett Case. My men picked up your files, then we got the call to follow.”

  Frank didn’t like how this tall, polished, suited fed was scrutinizing Sam from head to toes. His smile was the same Frank had had when he first met Sam. And that smile had some pretty sensual thoughts behind it. He approached with a distraction. “What now, Agent?”

  “Doctor Khaos, we’ll find him. We will. Detective Wright, what would be the next step?”

  “You want her to do your job?”

  “No. She went through the files thoroughly. So what about it, Detective?”

  “Brooklyn South Hospital isn’t far. I’d like to find out if the staff, Doctor Freed told us about, is there. Do a full sweep. Blow their minds. Really, loud, aggressive. Tie them down until they talk.”

  Special Agent Case and Frank stared at her like she was nuts. Frank sneered and threw up his hands. Yeah, that’s my Sam.

  “Well, not the last part. But I’d want arrest charges, not only to include embezzlement, but conspiracy to commit murder. Lisa had to talk to at least one of them to warn that we’re getting close. She called Dr. Freed. And I bet at least one of them knows where she is. And I’d also bet they’d trample each other to get a deal.”

  Case nodded in approval. “Okay. Hey, Simpson,” he called to his partner.

  Simpson approached, pursed his lips, and shot Frank a you-lucky-bastard look. Frank nodded.

  “Get into the employee files. See if any of the ones in Detective Wright’s notes are on duty now. We’ll take what we can get.”

  In the meantime, an agent had plugged into Withers’s phone GPS and found the locations where he had been the past few days. “Detectives. I found an address in Sheepshead Bay, Brooklyn. Seems like a residence. From the activity he leaves around ten a.m. and returns around nine p.m.”

  Sam nodded. “That could be where’s he’s staying to throw us off. He had to make a mistake, eventually. This was it. We have a few hours till nine. I’d still like to take down that hospital.”

  “Brett, the supervisor Murielle Langston and an employee, Paul McCulla, are there,” Simpson yelled from the car.

  “Okay, Detectives. Let’s do this.”

  The entourage of three FBI cars, followed by Nick’s SUV, parked illegally on a side street outside the ER entrance.

  The sign said no parking except for emergency vehicles from six a.m. to seven p.m. Frank would never had parked there, even with his MD plates, when he visited Jen. But, for the first time, he didn’t give a shit.

  As the hospital was surrounded by private homes, finding a parking space took a while. Unlike in Manhattan, there was no lot to scoot into. All hell was about to be break loose. No more Mr. Nice Guy. Now he planned to vent.

  He held Sam’s hand against his leg. She must have felt his tension, his coldness. “Frank, we’ll get them. We’ll get all of them. What can I do to help you, right now?”

  “Oh, man, Sam, you’re something else. You know that? Okay. If I get ready to break someone’s neck, come to me and wrap your arms around me.”

  She looked surprised. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  “Let’s do this.” Nick opened the door when he saw six feds walk from their cars onto the handicap ramp to the ER. They walked in pairs, one behind the other. Special Agent Case led.

  Nick, Sam, and Frank followed. Case flashed his badge at the paunchy security guard at the door, asked directions to the accounting admin office. The guard pointed. They walked down the corridor at a steady pace. Frank heard military music in his head. He bet a few of those guys were military. He respected that. Special Agent Case looked behind him. He sent eye signals to his team. They knew where to approach. They had found the third woman there who was involved. Karen Horn. The last guy was Teddy Williams. Case told Frank that Williams should be getting surprised at home by an FBI team, right about now. It could be that he was the one Lisa called.

  Case raised his palm in the direction of Nick, Sam, and Frank. Frank knew why. Case depended upon Frank’s team to support Frank and keep him back, so he wouldn’t go berserk or impede the arrests. It was the FBI who had to make them. They had allowed Frank, Sam, and Nick to come along and watch, as a courtesy. Frank didn’t even have to beg them. Sam must have seen in his eyes that he was close to bursting. He knew that his brows furrowed and his eyes always became darker, whenever he was livid. Jen had told him she recognized that. Darker eyes. Sam did what Frank had asked of her. She wrapped her arms around his waist and snuggled. Appropriate or not, Frank held her close.

  Langston, McCulla, and Horn didn’t know what hit them. The teams split up. Case and Simpson went over to fifty year old Mrs. Langston and grabbed her up under her arms as she screamed. As they pulled her up, one of the buttons on her blouse popped open. They didn’t care. The agents read her, her rights, handcuffed her hands behind her back. The takedown took less than two minutes. She kept turning her head around to see the others, while trying to wrestle out of their hold on her. The agents just dragged her. Her feet buckled under her. One high heel slipped off. The agents left it on the floor. They carried her, as if through the air. They pulled her past Frank, who was still holding onto Sam. Frank gave Mrs. Langston a long cold stare as she looked at him, pleading. No words came from him. He nodded to the agents, stood straight and strong with Sam supporting him.

  Paul McCulla put up a fight at his desk. The second team had to show him who was boss. One of the agents shoved him off his chair to the ground then got on top of him, grabbed his arms behind his back, and handcuffed him. They pulled him up as he continued fighting.

  What is he thinking?

  McCulla was a scrawny guy, just average height. He didn’t look like he had hit a gym in his life. They would add resisting arrest and fighting a federal officer to the charges. Frank couldn’t take it. He released Sam and strode up in front of Paul, towering over him. When Paul looked up at this giant, he cowered and started to cry at Frank not to hit him. Frank got close, grimaced, and then backed off. He covered his nose with his hand. The agents had no choice. They had to take this man, who had just defecated on himself, into their vehicle. At that moment, Frank was glad he didn’t have the authority to make an arrest.

  The other woman, the motorcycle chick, was the youngest, late twenties. She tried to come on to the third team of agents. No luck. She was dressed in skin tight jeans and a low cut sweater. When the agents approached she had been cutting an article for a file. She lunged at one of the agents with a large pair of shears. He moved out of the way, pushed her down over her desk, grabbed her arms in back of her, and handcuffed her.

  As one of the agents moved her arms, her sleeves slid up to her elbows. Frank, even from a distance, noticed the needle marks on her forearms. He could guess where her share of the money went. Attacking a federal agent with a weapon would be added to her charges. And an addict still holding her employment in a hospital? Maybe Jen saw that, too. Something else for them to investigate.

  Frank stood proud and looked at the other shaken employees, wondering who else was involved. Most of them wouldn’t make eye contact with him. He made mental notes of who they were. He was sure these three would rat, fast. More people would turn up. Sam moved to stand by his side. He felt stronger with her there.

  The people who had killed Jen and destroyed his family would finally get what they deserved.

  The FBI agents took the newly arrested into their vehicles. Case approached Nick, Sam, and Frank. “Glad to see you held it together, Doctor Khaos.”

  Frank nodded and hugged Sam around her shoulders. “Yeah. Me, too.”

  “We’re taking them to our Manhattan office. The Brooklyn South ESU will give you backup for the other two arrests.
Your murder charge trumps ours for embezzlement. You’d keep Withers and we’d get his wife after the arrest, though. We’d charge him with embezzlement added to the murder charge. Good luck, Detectives. Hope now you can move on with your life, Doc.”

  Frank gave Case a man-tap on his shoulder. “Thanks.”

  CHAPTER 39

  An ESU team was called in to get over to Withers and his wife’s Sheepshead Bay apartment to be on call for the detectives when they arrived. Patrol cars from the closest precinct would assist to take Withers and his wife into custody after their arrest, so Frank was confident NYPD had their backs.

  The drive was only about ten minutes, but it was an eternity to Frank. Thoughts ran through his mind. Most of all he thought about Withers.

  Have they left the state? The country?

  It wouldn’t be over until they were taken down.

  He prayed to God, it would be over. Tonight.

  Withers’s apartment building was on a side street across the street from a school. There wasn’t one parking spot available, even now at night. They found the apartment 6J. Across the street on the main avenue, they spotted Withers’s “clonkmobile.” That was what Frank had called it. Run down, filthy, it had to have over way one hundred fifty K miles on it. A 2000 model of some kind of Toyota.

  Withers certainly kept low key.

  Frank didn’t know if he could do as well here at controlling himself as he had done at the hospital. Nick parked a block away, out of sight to windows in the apartment. As he reversed to parallel park, Frank jolted back to the present.

  ESU had gotten out of their truck. They were the same guys and sergeant that had escorted Frank and Sam to the precinct the night of the text message.

  The sergeant jogged to their car about twenty yards farther back from the apartment building, checked the gear Nick had on the floor, and gave them shields.

  When Nick opened the door of his SUV, they heard a gunshot coming from a block away.

  “Stay in the car, Detectives!” the sergeant shouted, running down the block to his truck.

  The streetlights and lights coming from the private houses on the avenue illuminated his path, peeking through the sparse trees. Patrol cars pulled up behind the truck and, immediately, cops went into action, telling homeowners who had come onto their front porches to watch, to go back into their homes.