Rise of The Iron Eagle (The Iron Eagle Series Book 1)

by Roy A. Teel Jr.

  “Margaret, we have known each other for over a decade. When are you going to address me by my first name?” “It just doesn’t seem proper, Mr. Cruthers.” “Well, Margaret, I’m going to make it proper. From now on, please call me Walter.” She smiled. She had never been given permission to address him any other way. She also knew Walter’s temperament, and if he instructed you to behave in a certain way, you did so. She had seen both sides of Walter. The kind, affectionate man, and the ruthless, angry businessman who would, could, and had destroyed many a career. “I’m flattered, Mr.….I mean, Walter. Mr. Powers will see you now.” He bowed slightly toward her and walked into Marty’s office. “Don’t get up, Marty. I wouldn’t want you to acknowledge me as your superior.” Marty stood straight up and apologized. “Oh sit down, Marty. I don’t want you to kiss my ass right now.”

  Walter began pacing and asked about the conversation with Doctor Cook. Marty just shook his head. “I did as you asked, Walter, and she’s promised to think things over and to get me an answer by the end of her shift on Monday.” “That’s not acceptable, Marty. I want this woman, and I want her on board now!” “What do you want me to do, Walter? Tie her up and hold her against her will?” Walter looked disgusted and sat down. “I want you to do your damn job. If there is one thing about your management style that I don’t like, it’s your easy going nature.” Marty shrugged and asked, “Are you seriously offering Doctor Cook a blank check? The board will never go for it.” “The BOARD? I am the board, Marty. The BOARD will do whatever I tell them to do. Besides, Sara is not a greedy woman; she’s practical.” Marty’s face grew more serious, and he lowered his voice, “Sara said that you have seen her in the ER ten times in the past six months.” “Yea…so?” “She said only her, Walter. She also said that you’ve made unwanted advances.” Walter crossed his legs and asked, “Where are you going with this?”

  “Sara is a great doctor, and I agree that she will make a great Chief of Staff for the ER, and I even think I might have persuaded her in our conversation this morning before she left the hospital. The one thing that she wants is for you to stay away from her.” Walter smiled, “Good, very good, then my plan worked.” Marty looked confused. “Plan? What plan?” “You know that I’m much too old for her. I had planned to make her uncomfortable so when it came time to negotiate her contract I had this card to play. It’s perfect. You will be able to tell Doctor Cook that you spoke to me, and I have agreed to cease and desist from further advances. That I have been duly chastised, and that I will not bother her again.” “That’s great, Walter, but you’re not her only reason for leaving.” “And what, pray tell, would her other reason be?”

  “I don’t know how much you know about Doctor Cook’s background, but she came to this hospital with her best friend, Doctor Amber Swenson.” Walter sat still and replied, “Okay, so what does that have to do with anything?” Marty asked if he knew anything about Doctor Swenson’s passing, and when he said no, Marty shared the details of her rape and murder. Marty’s face was grim, and Walter could see that Marty was emotionally troubled. “I’m very sorry. I had no idea. WEC only had the hospital for about a year and half, and I had not taken a hundred percent control yet. What does that have to do with Sara?” Marty paused for a moment before telling the story of their lifelong friendship including their tenure as colleagues and surgeons. Walter asked, “Do you think the memories of her late friend…what did you say her name was?” “Amber Swenson.” “You think that this is coloring her reasons for wanting to leave the hospital?” “That’s exactly what she told me.” “How strange.”

  “What makes it so strange, Walter?” “Sara is a doctor; she deals with death on a daily basis. It just seems strange that she would allow the death of her friend to jeopardize her future and her career after all the hard work she has done to advance it.” “She’s not jeopardizing her career; she’s taking a lower paying job to be close to her family and friends. She wants to escape the memories that are associated with this hospital.” “I still don’t understand, Marty. If she has felt this way since the death of her friend, why did she stay on and not move to another facility? She always had that option.” Marty’s face lit up, “That’s a really good question. She was early enough in her residency that she could have requested a transfer.”

  “So you say that Doctor Swenson was murdered?” “Yes.” “What do you recall of her?” “She was a wonderful young woman, very full of life. She was an outstanding physician. Her patients loved her. She and Sara worked as a team in the ER. She was getting ready to celebrate her second wedding anniversary. Actually, if my memory serves me correctly, she was reported missing the morning after her anniversary.” “Is her husband on staff here at the hospital?” “No, he’s not a doctor.” “Really? That’s unusual.” “As I recall, Amber didn’t want to work in the same profession with her spouse. I remember when she told me she was engaged; she was so young and so excited. My wife, Teresa, and I attended their wedding.” “So what did her husband do?” “He was a Los Angeles Police Officer.” Walter’s face took on a look that Marty couldn’t make out. “What type of officer?” “Well, when Amber was killed he was a patrol officer. He had only been on the force for a little over a year.” “Did you know her husband well?” “John? Oh yes, very nice man, but if he pulled you over, you’d be terrified.” “How so?” “John was a lifelong body builder. At six feet four, two eighty, he was a scary looking man. He was a gentle giant though. He worked security here at the hospital between shifts to make ends meet.”

  “So that’s how he met Amber?” “No, as I recall, she met John through Sara.” He had an astonished look on his face. “Was Sara trying to date her way out of a ticket?” Marty chuckled and explained that Sara and John had been a couple in the past, and Amber got to know John initially as a friend before they ended up a couple.” “Hmm.” Walter looked at his gold Rolex and said, “Nice talking with you, Marty. Let’s do everything we can to keep Doctor Cook here, okay?” Marty nodded as Walter opened the door. He was just getting ready to leave when he turned to Marty and asked if he’d kept in touch with Swenson after his wife’s death. Marty shook his head but asked why he wanted to know. “I just wonder if he stayed in law enforcement after something so horrible happened to his wife.” Marty responded as Walter held the office door open, “He did. When Sara and I were speaking this morning, she mentioned that she’s still in contact with John, and that he’s still in law enforcement in Los Angeles.”

  Walter walked into the outer office where Margaret was filing some documents. Marty was behind him when Walter said, “I wish I had had the opportunity to have met Doctor Swenson. She sounds like she was quite a personality.” “She really was Walter; she really was.” He bid farewell to Marty and Margaret. Marty just stood there shaking his head and said to Margaret, “He might own the hospital, but he’s a strange man.” Margaret just smiled as she closed the filing cabinet, and Marty walked back into his office closing the door behind him.

  It was half past two when John left Cruthers’ home and headed for LA. He stopped at a sandwich shop around the corner from Steve’s office and had a cheesesteak and soda while he downloaded the data he had recovered. He had taken a bite of his sandwich when results of the scans started to pop up on the screen. He looked at the screen in confusion. “Only five sensors outside and two infrared cameras…Hmm.” The next report began to fill the screen. “The house is a fortress,” he said with a mouthful of sandwich, “inside and out.” The reports gave a very intricate layout of the house based on the security systems in place. He noticed that there was a very heavy concentration of surveillance equipment in the center of the house. “This is not equipment to keep someone out…it’s to keep something in.” He closed the laptop. There was still a lot of data he needed to download and go over back at the house on Parson’s Trail. For now, he needed to finish his lunch and see Steve Hoffman.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  ‘He turned of
f the lights and headed

  back to shore. He backed the boat into

  its slip, then hosed it off to make sure it

  was clean and fresh for his next guest.’

  Jim arrived at Steve’s office at quarter to three as promised. The mess was cleaned up, and there didn’t seem to be anything else missing or broken from his desk. Steve wasn’t there when he came in, so he sat down behind the desk, put a smoke between his teeth and his feet up on his desk, and waited. John was going through security when he saw Steve walking across the hall toward the elevator with a cafeteria tray in his hands. “Good afternoon, Agent Hoffman.” He smiled, “Call me, Steve.” “Yes, sir.” “And don’t call me sir. You don’t have the job yet.” He nodded as the elevator doors closed.

  When they arrived, Jim had his feet planted firmly on the desk and was chewing aggressively on the unlit cigarette. “For God’s sake, Jim, take your damn feet off my desk, get the fuck out of my chair, and if you have to chew on something might I suggest you take up gum!” Steve pushed Jim’s feet off his desk. Jim moved to another chair where he promptly put his feet back on the end of Steve’s desk, continuing to gnaw on his cigarette. John could see that he was doing it to annoy Steve. “Please sit down, John. As you can see, this is a pretty informal process.” Steve grunted out the last words as he shoved Jim’s feet off his desk yet again. Steve had John’s employment file as well as military records in front of him. “I have to say, John, you have a very impressive résumé. Served a four year hitch in the Marine Corps where you were in Special Forces.” John nodded. “What did you do?” “I’m afraid that’s classified, sir. You would have to request that information from the Department of Defense.” “You should be able to answer this then; were you part of a ‘black op squad?’” “Affirmative, sir.” “Highly decorated, I see. Earning the Navy Cross, a medal second only to the Congressional Medal of Honor. Silver and bronze stars, two purple hearts, and honorably discharged. Why didn’t you stay in the military?” “I fell in love, sir.” Steve laughed, “Given these awards, it seems like you loved the Corps.” “My time in the Corps taught me a lot about honor, sacrifice, and service; we lived by a code in the Corps. I loved the men and women that I served with, sir.” “You earned these medals for acts of valor.” “Agent Hoffman, I didn’t do anything that I thought I deserved a medal or anything else for. Those medals were conferred upon me by my superiors and fellow soldiers. I lived and still live by the credo ‘leave no person behind.’” “Do you also stand by the unspoken credo ‘avenge your brother’s blood?’” “In a time of war, sir, you don’t have time to think. That’s trained into you. You do the job, and you protect those who can’t protect themselves.”

  “Understood. You graduated summa cum laude from USC with a degree in psychology and a minor in criminal justice. An MSW from USC as well. It’s no wonder that you can think like these guys. Why the hell aren’t you working for me?” “It was another life, Agent Hoffman. I was planning on going into private practice when I graduated as a psychologist while I pursued my PhD, but things didn’t work out like I planned.” “So what brought you into police work?” “It was a great forum where I felt I could apply both my military training and my education in a hands-on way while I was working on my PhD.” “I see, but you never went back to school.” John shook his head. “You were admitted to the Los Angeles Police Academy in 2000 and became a sworn peace officer that same year.” He nodded. “I see that you are still in the reserves.” “Yes, sir; once you leave the military, you are required to remain on active duty call up.” “Were you activated after your discharge?” John looked Steve in the eye, “I’m afraid that’s classified as well, sir.”

  Steve shrugged. “Married March 20, 2001to Doctor Amber Lynn Melman.” There were several photographs in his HR file; two of them had his wife in them at two different award ceremonies. “She’s a very attractive young woman.” John spoke quietly, “Yes, sir, she was.” Steve had spoken before he had finished reading his file. “I’m sorry, John, that was incredibly insensitive of me.” Jim had practically been nodding off until he heard the conversation about John’s late wife. After hearing her name, he said, “Blond hair, green eyes, born 1978. Her body was found in a dumpster on March 21, 2003.” They both looked over at him. “I worked the case, John. I should say that I’m technically still working the case, though it is a cold case and has been for eight years.” “I didn’t know, detective.” “Yes, John. I was there that morning when she was discovered by an employee of the restaurant. You don’t strike me as the forgetful type. I interviewed you after the killing.” “With all due respect, Detective O’Brian, that was a moment in my history where I talked to a lot of people. We could very well have met, and you might have interviewed me, but the first two weeks after my wife’s murder are a blur.” “I’m sorry, John. Your wife’s case holds a significant place in my memory.” “And why is that, detective?” “Call me Jim.” “Why is that, Jim?”

  “Your wife disappeared the night of your second wedding anniversary from the Oak Room in Hollywood. You were a patrolman then, and I interviewed you about the night before. You told me that you were late getting to the restaurant because you and your partner were on a domestic battery case in the Crenshaw District. When we spoke, you were blaming yourself for Amber’s death. I was having a problem with the case because in the previous six months I had two other similar cases. One was a child, a ten-year-old girl from Orange County; her body was found stuffed in a freezer box in the back of her parents’ home. Everyone was all over the parents, but they were cleared by DNA. The other was a thirty-five-year-old Black female, same attack pattern as the girl. Both had been raped and tortured. This was not your run of the mill torture either, Steve. What happened was nothing short of horrific. After the discovery of your wife’s body, I started to see a pattern and even started a profile of the killer, then the killings stopped. I have always held that these three were the work of one killer. I’m sorry, John. It just all flooded back to me. Steve, if this guy is a serial killer, he makes The Iron Eagle look like a saint.”

  “That’s quite alright, Jim. The memories come back to me nightly. I, too, think that my wife was the victim of a serial killer.” Steve sat back in his chair and closed John’s file. “So if you two are so sure, ” he looked right at Jim, “then why didn’t you tell me about it?” “The evidence was way too thin…I tried to get permission for a team in ’03, but resources were low, and we didn’t have any more killings in my jurisdiction.” “So you think he’s still killing, just not in your areas?” They both said yes quickly and at the same time. “Interesting. John I want to put in a request with your department for you to come over and work with me on a trial basis for six months as an Intel Analyst. The salary is $98,000. I will work out your benefits between LAPD since you will really be a consultant from the LAPD. But don’t worry, you will have the same or better benefits than you have right now.” “I’m not worried about that.” “Well, you should be. We don’t make a lot of money for what we do.” “What am I being hired to analyze, sir?” “I’m putting you on as the lead analyst in The Iron Eagle killings.” “I’m sorry…you want me to profile The Iron Eagle?” “Yes, John. I think you have the skills to do it. What do you say?” He laughed a little under his breath and said, “Sure.” Steve said, “I really feel good about this,” and Jim agreed. “I’ll work out the details, but I want you in my office at nine a.m. tomorrow.” “Do I need to talk to my superiors?” “No…you are now working for me. Get your shit together because tomorrow you’re going to help us take down this son of a bitch.” He smiled, shook both of their hands, and left the office.

  After he left, Steve looked at Jim and said, “This kid is a pro. I really think that he can give us a lot of insight into The Eagle, not to mention other cases.” Jim nodded, the cigarette still clenched in his teeth. “I can’t see how we can go wrong. The kid has all the right tools and training, and he has a motivation to find The Eag
le.” “What motivation is that?” “His wife, dumbass. Who knows; it might have been The Eagle who killed her.” “No way. Doesn’t fit the profile.” “Well, lately The Eagle hasn’t been fitting his own profile. I just hope between the three of us we can take him down.”

  John walked out of the building, quietly got to his truck, and radioed in that he was back on duty. He pulled out of the parking lot and pulled over near the veteran’s cemetery across the street from Steve’s office. He was well out of sight of anyone in or near the building. He put the steel case on the floor then placed both hands on the steering wheel and, without even understanding it himself, began to laugh hysterically.

  Sara got home and did just as she had planned. She took a hot bubble bath and drank a glass of wine while listening to some smooth jazz, after which she went to bed for a long needed rest. What she didn’t do when she woke up was start packing boxes. Instead, she grabbed a legal pad and listed the pros and cons of staying at Northridge Hospital. From the outset, the pros were outweighing the cons with the largest pro being John. Even with him living in Long Beach, a relationship could work. The only big con for her was his job. She jotted down, ‘Can I live with the knowledge that the man I love might walk out the door and never come home?’ Then, she remembered the box. She got up and went into the bedroom and opened the hope chest at the end of her bed. Buried under old clothes, comforters, and pillows was a small oak box with an eagle burned into the top and the initials, ‘U.S.M.C.’