Cajun Fire

by Rick Murcer

  “Yes. It was code. Each time one official on the bribe would mention a certain cartel by name, the other official knew there was a shipment coming in or in the process of being planned, or even that the heat was coming and to lie low for a while,” said Manny. “The system was complex, but they all had it down pat.”

  “What brought them down?” asked Barb.

  “What usually does. The investigation got closer and led to one of the high-ranking Mexican officials wanting to make a deal with his government and our own DEA.”

  “Bravo, Agent. Dat’s exactly what Fogerty relied on, right till de end,” said Braxton.

  “How does that work here?” asked Alex.

  “That’s why we’re talking. That’s the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question. We first have to find out what’s going on in New Orleans. If this is something designed to go to the next step as a terrorist act, we need to know how that communication was handled,” said Manny.

  “People do things differently, but in the end, they have to talk,” said Sophie. “We’ve figured that out.”

  He ran his hand through his hair, staring at the table. Sophie was right about people doing things differently.

  His thoughts leaped from one terrorist extreme to another. People doing, at least on the outside, what they think is right, supposedly. Idealism to the point of violence was never what it seemed. He didn’t buy the “doing right” thing so much. These people were all driven by one purpose. If he’d learned anything as a profiler, he knew that.

  “Listen. Part of the profile of anyone wanting to hurt another in anyway is driven by some internalized ideal. But in the end, the emotional reason for inflicting pain is to be able to feel better about themselves and balance out the universe and some preconceived wrong.”

  “You’re talking revenge, right?” said Sophie.

  “As always. We’ve seen it. In the end, the reason for acting out is not some pie-in-the-sky ideal to make the world a better place or some crap like that, but a need to feel vindicated. That’s true with psychopaths like Argyle all the way to people like Timothy McVeigh. Revenge. Period.”

  “Where are you going with this?” asked Josh.

  Manny leaned both hands on the table. “Listen, if you want to make a statement, don’t you want to do something no one else has done?”

  “Damn. So you think that’s the key? Finding a lead that points to some awful thing that’s never been done before?” asked Josh.

  “I do. You can’t ignore the other intel we have regarding other possible attacks on our soil, and I think we’ll know more when we get to the crime scene, but, yeah, that fits.”

  “That could be a thousand things,” said Sophie.

  “It could. The profiling in this situation is not so different though. We have to think like these people think,” answered Manny.

  “Where do we start?” asked Barb.

  “I know that one. We have to get in touch with our dark side, right?” asked Sophie.

  “I’m afraid so. You have to dig deep and put yourself in the shoes of these people. What motivates them. The ‘how’ and the ‘where’ that best satisfies their revenge. Who they talk to and associate with. Whatever else we can come up with.”

  Barb tapped a pen on the table. “You mean what setting?”

  “Yes. That too. Think. What kind of person wants so badly to kill and exact revenge that they would do almost anything to pull it off?” Manny leaned back in his chair. “Josh asked me to pull together some basic stuff on who that looks like, so I did.”

  “Let me guess; you’ve done your first terrorism profile,” said Alex.

  “I’ll answer that one,” said Josh.

  The new boss of the ACTU reached into his briefcase and pulled out a stack of blue folders stamped TOP SECRET ACTU.

  “You were a busy man last night, darlin’,” said Chloe.

  Manny smiled. “I can multitask.”

  “Aye, ya can.”

  “Remember, these are guesses and, in my case, feelings too. I had to guard against what I would do and stay neutral with my input. That was difficult.”

  “Just no escaping your dark side, huh?” said Sophie.

  “No, but I’ve always known that. Read what I wrote and let’s see what we can see.”

  At that moment, the jet’s engines revved and buckle-up signs illuminated. Manny walked around the table, sat beside Chloe, and buckled his seatbelt.

  The jet raced down the asphalt runway, and then they were airborne, banking west before straightening toward the south.

  As they settled into their flight pattern, Manny couldn’t keep the sense of urgency away from his thoughts.

  Deep down, he realized New Orleans and the murders in the warehouse were only a beginning, but of what?

  CHAPTER-9

  He watched with more than a casual interest as the woman stepped out on the front stoop of her small, modest ranch on the west side of the city. She looked down in apparent reflection, then raised her head to look toward the rising sun to the east of the New Orleans skyline. She folded her arms over her chest, her right hand slowly moving over her upper arm. There wasn’t a sign of joy in any of the woman’s body language. Why would there be?

  Stepping down, she hesitated and then leaned toward the red azaleas, seeming to inhale their sweet scent.

  “She’s trying to figure out if she is upset or relieved. Then she’s working at sorting out the guilt that pulls at her for even contemplating any relief at all,” he said, turning toward the woman seated in the passenger seat.

  “Who can blame her? She thought she married a good man. Most women live in that illusion. But truth is a freeing bewilderment to many. It was to us.”

  Her pale-blue eyes sparkled as she shifted to face him more directly.

  The woman beside him believed deeply in her ideals. On how life should be, and her devotion to that core belief was remarkable. It lived in her luminous gaze.

  Naïve. Idyllic. And perhaps outright nonsensical at times, but her dedication was what indeed had brought them together.

  The two had met through that secret-of-secrets Internet arena, and the subsequent joining had been most opportune, there was no denying that. Her ability to accurately fire almost any handheld weapon, and with a complete willingness to do it at any time and toward anyone, all in the name of justice, was almost surreal. Her gift had been enormously beneficial to him and his cause. Never mind her extraordinary lack of inhibition in the sack.

  Bonuses come in all forms.

  “You are correct, my dear Lucretia, as usual. Any truth that rips away the chains of limitation is worth embracing.”

  He patted her on the leg.

  She smiled.

  “I don’t think I can stand it if you touch me again. You’ll start something I’ll have to finish right here in the morning light. Right here in this car.”

  “Well, that would be a first since high school. But I believe we should stay on task and take that tantalizing suggestion to the hotel.”

  She shrugged. “You are right, lover, but the possibilities in here are, well, endless.”

  “They are always endless with a beautiful lady such as yourself.” He looked back at the woman standing in front of her home. “Staying on task, what should we do? I abhor senseless violence, as you well know, but is she a loose end that could lead to our discovery?” he asked.

  “Well, mon ami, looking at her body language, I would say she is far more concerned with her own state of mind than anything else,” said Lucretia.

  “I would agree. I don’t see fear, only some emotional confusion. Yet, Amy Brooks is a cop, a New Orleans detective. She and her late husband will be the subject of a very intensive investigation and interrogation, particularly when our deceased friends in the warehouse are fully identified.

  “Her finances, her work habits and routine, and most importantly, her cyber world will be of great interest to the authorities. Depending how careful her husband was or wasn’t, we m
ight be in danger of having our true mission discovered,” he said.

  As was her style, she said nothing while processing what he’d said. Her mind worked toward a problem-solving solution as quickly as anyone he’d met. Fortunately for him, her sociopathic personality usually led to the same identical conclusion each time. He’d never told her to kill anyone, only led her down the path.

  “We can’t risk them cruising into that area of her husband’s life. It will not take but a moment, lover. I shall return shortly.”

  She bent close to him, kissed him on the cheek while grabbing his manhood, squeezing.

  Laughing, she then opened the car door. “Better pull around the corner.”

  She then began a leisurely walk toward the New Orleans detective.

  CHAPTER-10

  “Alex? Are you getting this?” asked Manny.

  There was a momentary silence then the slight buzz in his ear transformed.

  “Yes sir. Don’t you just love these multidirectional cameras? I push a joy stick and they respond like a Rolls Royce on steroids.”

  “You like playing with sticks, right?” said Sophie.

  “What? I thought we muted your mic and turned your Asian ass off.”

  “Nope. Just keep playing with your stick. We’re going to need all of this on video.”

  “Don’t worry about me. Just earn your paycheck. I’ve got this video and imaging thing down to a tee. Even from the comfort of my leather chair in the jet.”

  “We needed a hack job in there, so, hey, we found something you could do. Now stop bothering me. I have to talk to Manny.”

  “What about? Another boob job? Alex out for now.”

  Sophie’s voice rose a tad. “What? These babies are big enough, and don’t forget about paybacks, Dough Boy. Just keep working on those names and database info with your little stick. I gotta go.”

  “Manny? Oh wait, I see you.”

  Manny turned, grinning despite their circumstances. To see Sophie high-stepping in his direction, the dust on the dank warehouse floor swirling in tiny puffs at her heels, was a welcomed sight.

  She was in a hurry, making a beeline of sorts in his direction, but careful not to step across the yellow plastic tape displaying the New Orleans Police notification that they were near the crime scene and not to enter.

  He looked again at the tape and the outline of the bodies.

  It had been a while since he’d seen this much blood in one small area, even as a member of the BAU. Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen this much in one place.

  The white chalk designating the six body positions hadn’t been able to contain the deep-burgundy stains that had a mind of their own and crawled away from the victims in eccentric, desperate patterns. Throw in a scattering of body and brain tissue, their eclectic locations specifically numbered with red placards, and this site looked more like a setup for a Halloween horror house than anything spawned from the real world.

  “Well, we’re back in the saddle,” said Sophie, stopping by his side.

  “That’s one’s way to put it. I don’t recall this kind of ranch before though.”

  “Me either, but that’s why we do this, just to see something new. Anyway, I need to have your blond butt come with me for a minute.”

  “Lead on.”

  Sophie turned away from him and walked the thirty feet or so to the old, wooden desk, he on her heels. She stopped on the left side and pointed for him to go to the right side of the desk. “Okay, I know we finally saw the reports and pictures and some of the forensic stuff before we got here, including that little area under the desk, but there ain’t nothing like being here.”

  “That’s why we made the trip, remember?”

  “Yeah. Anyway, you always talk about starting from the beginning, so let’s do it.”

  He nodded. “I’m listening.”

  “You’ve probably already figured most of this out, but let us short-bus kids catch up. I have to tell you that the people who killed those six, and I think there were at least two, never intended to let them walk out of here.”

  Good girl.

  “Why do you think that?”

  “First, there was only one true entrance and exit to this part of the warehouse. The two side doors were nailed shut with new nails. That could be just for security for whatever shit was going down, but I don’t think so.”

  “What else?”

  “See how this desk is slanted toward the front entrance on about a thirty-degree angle? It gives a great view of the double doors and gave the shooter or shooters a perfect angle to shoot from.”

  “Could that have just been for protection? Whatever deal went down here, and there was a deal, that’s certainly obvious now that we’re here, may have had a need for some form of protection if things went south,” said Manny.

  “Yeah, I thought about that, but let me show you something else,” said Sophie, stepping to the back side of the desk and getting down on her knees. She was careful to keep her hand off the fingerprint dust scattered on the desktop as she moved a foot under the desk.

  Manny circled the desk and squatted behind her.

  Sophie pointed to two small squares cut into the wood that had been fitted with the ability to slide open from the inside, at the front of the desk. “If you wanted to keep an eye on the people you were dealing with, I get it. By why two openings? One was enough. That wouldn’t have been necessary unless you knew you were going to need them to get better angles with your weapon.”

  “Maybe, but maybe these people were just cautious and covering their bases.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t buy that. Why hide anyone at all then? Why not just show them strength and make sure nothing happens? I think whoever killed these people wanted to surprise them and then take them out.”

  “Good thinking. I think so too. Come on out. There’s a couple more things that might make us about ninety-nine-percent right on that theory.”

  Sophie scrambled out from the desk and stood by him just as Josh, Barb, and Braxton entered through the door. The three walked in their direction almost stride for stride.

  Manny wasn’t sure what was going on now, but knew he was about to find out.

  “What do you think?” asked Josh.

  “We were just about to put the finishing touch on the first part of our theory,” said Manny, scrutinizing Josh’s face.

  Braxton laughed out loud. A big belly laugh that had almost become his trademark.

  “What was that for?” asked Barb.

  “Because da man knows dere be something else going on here besides dese murders.”

  “Why would you say that?” asked Josh.

  “Because there is something, and you’re going to tell us,” said Manny.

  Sighing, Josh gave a wry grin. “Still can’t hide much from you. I do have something, but let’s hear what you’ve found.”

  “Deal on both parts.”

  Manny explained what Sophie had surmised and that he agreed. “But there’s more. Come with us to where the bodies are outlined, then we need to go back to the desk.”

  The group reached the place where the killings had taken place and fanned out in a semi-circle, anticipation written on their faces. Stepping a foot inside the group, he then looked at Sophie.

  “Pull your weapon like you mean it and target someone standing on the other side of the desk.”

  “Do I shoot?” she said, eyes sparkling.

  “We’ll save the bullets, but pretend you’re at the OK Corral and Doc Holliday is about to meet his maker.” Then he stared at his watch.

  “Awesome.”

  She reached inside her jacket and did what Manny had asked, whipping out her Glock as fast as she could.

  “By my calculations, that took about one and a half seconds. Sophie is fast, so I say it would take most people in the neighborhood of two to three seconds to pull their weapon and aim it from here. Throw in how hard it can be to hit a target in a stressful situation
, I’d say the killers had about five seconds to do what they did.”

  “How many killers?” asked Josh.

  “Two.”

  “The NOPD thinks it was at least three, maybe four.”

  “No. Just two. Let me finish, and I’ll prove it.”

  Josh raised his hands in surrender. “By all means.”

  Manny nodded. “The crime-scene photos showed, and the reports verified, that the victims had each been shot only once. That means six shots that hit home.

  “Since there were no bullets lodged in the wall by the door or bullet holes leading through the wall, we have to assume that there were only six shots fired in this direction. We already know, based on the NOPD’s report, that the victims all had weapons on them, with the exception of one. The big man right over there didn’t have one on his person,” he said, pointing at one of the outlines on the floor.

  “The Smith and Wesson .45 found on the floor near his body probably belonged to him, indicating he was at least trying to fire his weapon before he was killed. But the fact that none of the victims’ guns had been discharged means they weren’t expecting or weren’t ready for what happened to them.”

  “So you tink dat means dey were surprised,” said Braxton.

  “I do. If there had been a shootout, so to speak, we’d see physical evidence on both walls and the bodies, or at least some of them would probably have had more than one wound.”

  “The fact that there were only two types of slugs found on the victims strengthens Manny’s theory,” said Sophie.

  “Our theory,” said Manny.

  “Yeah, I guess ours. Anyway, the fact that only six shots were fired and, none at close range because of the lack of GSR on any of the victims, also says something for the type of shooters involved here.”

  “You mean dey be damn good shots?” asked Braxton.

  “That’s what I mean,” said Sophie. “Anyone who hits someone at thirty feet away square in the noggin with one round is good. Anyone who hits multiple targets at that distance is someone you don’t want to piss off. They’ve got their shit together, with their guns at least.”