by O. K. Mills
Walker and Sweeney turned to see a fit older gentleman with dark brown hair and a well-manicured beard clapping sarcastically in the middle of the room.
He wore dark blue, denim trousers, black work boots, a gray jacket, and a detective’s badge hung from a simple link typically reserved for military dog tags around his neck. Flanking him were a small cadre of additional officers dressed similarly as well as members of forensics who were already establishing a perimeter around the scene.
“That dead woman is indeed Connie Powers. How does a beat cop know that, Walker?”
“Occasionally, a black man finds more than hidden money inside of a book or three,” Walker deadpanned.
The man chuckled and adjusted a toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. Walker simply glared at him. Sweeney stood looking back and forth between the two men as if he were watching a tennis match.
“Austin Cole, Homicide.” The man said extending his hand to Sweeney without looking away from Walker.
“Rickey Sweeney,” he answered, extending his hand to Cole.
“You know what Earle’s problem is, Sweeney? Earle wants everyone to think he’s the smartest man in the room. My philosophy is, if you’re the smartest man in the room, you’re in the wrong room.”
Cole ambled over to look at the corpse of Connie Powers.
“This woman came to the Commonwealth of Virginia about 10 years ago and bought this property under a business name, not her own. She wanted to keep her philanthropic activities private, and the governor helped her do that.”
He gestured toward the dead mercenary. Two members of the forensics team went over to the corpse.
“Raise up that sleeve. I want to see that tattoo,” said Cole.
“Any idea what that ink means, Walker?” Cole asked.
Walker shook his head no.
“Welcome to a new god-dang room.”
Walker composed himself and walked towards the back of the house where he noticed a door sitting wide open.
The party you have reached is unavailable. Please leave a message after the tone...
“Bear, it’s Spade. This is my second message, forgive me for that; I know how much you hate voicemail. I have a code red. I need you to bring me in. I know this line isn’t secure, nor is it a line you recognize. Believe me, it was the best I could do under my current set of circumstances.”
He grimaced imagining what Bear’s expression would be as he listened to him babbling on like an idiot. He didn’t have any choice though. He had to get word to him.
“Bear, I’m going to head to the Silver Spring Metro. Meet me there when you get this.”
He paused, trying to think if there was anything else he could say to assure Bear it really was him. The Silver Spring Metro was where they’d agreed to meet if Spade was ever in town and in trouble. Hopefully, Bear remembered. He hadn’t spoken to him since before he’d gone to Africa. It was a risk, but he was out of options. He started pacing as he noticed the thief starting to stir.
“Meet me at the Silver Spring Metro Station. I will get there as quickly as I can.” Spade ended the call and handed the phone back to Akinwale. He started toward the exit when the young girl stopped him and pointed at the thief on the ground. Spade looked at Akinwale.
“Do you know how to use a gun?”
“Yes.”
“Call the police, take his gun and keep it aimed on him until they arrive. They aren’t far from here, trust me.”
Spade turned to leave again, but the young girl stopped him again. She pointed to the items they were supposed to buy and then made the ‘money gesture.’
“Oh, yeah, I didn’t pay for our stuff.”
Spade reached inside of his pocket and pulled out about twenty dollars in assorted bills. He handed the money to Akinwale and nodded his appreciation.
“Thanks for letting me use the phone,” Spade said.
“You saved my life. I think a few concessions is a more than fair trade,” Akinwale smiled.
Spade gave him a nod, grabbed the girl by the hand, and this time she did not stop him. She adjusted her glasses and waved goodbye to Akinwale. Once they were outside again, he took a minute to gather his surroundings.
“The closest Metro is Vienna. Let’s start walking back up Lee Highway and see if we can flag a taxi cab. It’s rush hour, so it may take us a minute to get there, but it beats walking.”
With that Spade trotted forward to flag down a cab. Eventually, one stopped, and they entered.
“Where to?”
“Vienna Metro Station, please. Do you take credit cards?”
The driver nodded yes and drove off as Spade closed the back passenger door.
“You went through the academy with that Austin Cole guy?”
Sweeney sheepishly made the inquiry of Walker when he walked up next to him by the open back door. Walker had been his own personal guru, and for all intents and purposes, he’d raised him as a cadet fresh out of the academy. He had never seen his mentor get dressed down that way, not even by their major.
Walker ignored the question.
“This door is wide open, Sweeney. They left out of the back.”
Walker walked out, trying to simulate carrying a body in his arms and then switched to what it might feel like leading one by the hand. He walked out to the back gate and noticed that it was not open.
“They hopped the gate. They were in a rush to get out, so they hopped the gate. And they probably headed left. That leads to the main road and eventually out toward Lee Highway.”
“Walker, we’re talking about a young kid with an adult civilian, both of whom are running for their lives. For all we know they’re hiding in somebody’s backyard around the corner, and that’s assuming that any of them survived. What if there was more than one mercenary?”
Walker hadn’t considered that. Sweeney had a valid point for once, but his gut was telling him otherwise.
“If there was more than one mercenary sent here to kill a handful of unarmed children and a woman in her 50s, then God only knows what Connie Powers was hiding in there.”
“Or what she was protecting,” said Cole, choosing this moment to interject himself into yet another private conversation. He walked over to where Walker was standing and seemed to be running the same scenario in his head.
He also had what looked like severed fingers in an evidence bag.
“Definitely more than one mercenary, apparently,” said Walker.
“Apparently,” said Cole, “That door was open?”
Walker nodded yes.
“Forensics boys are saying there is also evidence that whoever drove the squad car in there through the front door is the same person that ran out the back. They also say that the former owner of these fingers went out the front. We’re tracking surveillance feeds in the area, but not getting a whole lot. Regardless, we know that the driver of the car went out the back door.”
“That doesn’t make sense. The officer assigned to that vehicle is lying dead on the kitchen floor.”
“And missing his badge, by the way.”
“What?”
“Whoever it was that drove that black and white through the front door and crashed into the wall of the panic room, also took the time to double back and take that man’s badge. For all we know he was in on this whole thing.”
Walker got in Cole’s face at that assertion.
“Michael Spade was one of the finest officers I have ever known. What you are suggesting is completely ludicrous.”
“I don’t know, Walker. Detective Cole might have a point,” Sweeney offered. Both men turned and looked at Sweeney, but only Cole seemed pleased. Sweeney continued.
“We have a billionaire philanthropist lying dead in the middle of a secret shelter with a damn panic room in it. We have four dead kids, a dead police officer, forensic evidence that suggests multiple mercenaries on the premises and an open back door where a civilian, or another mercenary, may have fled with survivors.”
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br /> “That doesn’t make Mikey an accomplice.”
“That doesn’t make him not one either,” Cole retorted. “We’ll sort it out, boys.”
At that moment one of Cole’s fellow detectives came running out the back carrying an 8x10 glossy photograph.
“What you got there, Hernandez?” asked Cole.
“Group shot of everyone who lived here, sir. Everyone is accounted for except for this girl here,” Hernandez said pointing her out.
“I think our prince just found Cinderella. If she’s alive she’s probably on foot and scared out of her mind. Walker, can you and your boy stick around for some canvassing? We need to cast a wide net around this area.”
“Are you sure that’s wise? She might be a hostage. She might be in danger.”
“And what would you have me look for her with? Circus clowns? Zoo animals? Every now and then, you gotta flip a table, Earle. We are the Virginia police. If a mercenary has her, then we will deal with it. If a civilian has her, then we’ll pin a medal on them for rescuing her. Understood?”
Walker nodded while Sweeney continued looking sheepishly at his mentor.
“Hernandez, was this group shot the only photo of the girl in the house?” asked Cole.
“No sir, there are others.”
“Find the best of her, and get it out to the local news. And find out her name.”
“Yes sir.”
Hernandez started back inside of the house followed by Cole and Sweeney.
4: Metrorail
Spade stood in front of a small group of large Metro ticket machines. Having been several years since he had last ridden the subway, he stared for several moments just trying to figure out where to put his credit card. He could sense the people behind him growing impatient, so he looked to the young girl for help.
“Have you ridden the subway before? Do you have any idea how to buy one of these fare cards?”
She smiled as she often did, but did not say anything. Instead, she took his card. Moments later she handed Spade a fare card along with his credit card and pocketed her own.
A quick check of the Metro map let Spade know that they would need to transfer to the Red Line to get to the Silver Spring station. As they descended to the platform, they ran into a large number of riders wearing Washington Nationals baseball paraphernalia. An almost equal number of riders were decked out in Baltimore Orioles team attire.
It took a while, but eventually, Spade and the little girl were able to board a train amongst the throng of sports fans. It was standing room only, but Spade succeeded in securing a seat for the young girl. During the ride, he kept an eye on everyone around them.
Then, as if on cue, Spade felt her tugging on his arm. She pointed at a nearby rider’s smartphone. On the screen, he saw a picture of the girl with the caption “MISSING: Brynn James.”
He sighed. The last thing he needed was the local news plastering her picture everywhere. He composed himself and feigned calm to ease her nerves.
“Brynn, huh? That’s pretty.”
Brynn pointed to the phone and then to herself—fear in her eyes. In the picture her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she wore glasses, precisely the way she looked now.
“Give me your glasses,” Spade told her, “and take your hair out of the ponytail.” Glancing around the train, he spotted a sleeping kid in Nats gear. He deftly swiped the child’s hat without anyone noticing and placed it on Brynn’s head.
The hat was too big for her.
She tilted the brim back to give him a look that expressed her displeasure with it. He stifled a giggle.
Unbeknownst to Spade, a teenaged passenger sitting directly across witnessed the entire exchange and was posting their images online.
“Whatcha got for me?” Austin Cole asked Asha Born, his second in command.
Asha was only a year out of the academy when Cole had recruited her to be a part of his special tasks unit. While everyone Cole recruited needed to be able to handle a weapon, he chose Asha primarily for her outstanding skills with a computer. She served exclusively as Cole’s technical lead on all of his unit’s operations.
She turned her laptop in his direction so that he could see the screen.
“Brynn James was spotted on the Orange Line about 30 minutes ago. The kid who posted this says she recognized herself and whoever is with her put a Nats cap on her head to hide her.”
“The Internet gods are with us. Get me an ID on the guy next to her.”
“Already done, sir. His name is Jaysiel Spade. His prints are in the squad car on both the passenger’s and driver’s side. We think the duffle bag is his too.”
“What the hell kind of name is Jay-zee-el?” asked Cole.
“Good question. Sounds biblical,” Asha responded.
“It means the strength of God,” said Walker, who had appeared to not be paying much attention, but was obviously listening. Cole gave him a “golf clap” in response before Walker continued.
“That’s Mike’s younger brother.”
“You know that guy?” asked Cole.
“I know … I knew his older brother Mike Spade, the officer who died here today. I wouldn’t say I know Jaysiel Spade all that well, but well enough.”
“When was the last time you actually spoke to him?”
“Almost a decade ago. He was over in Africa, last I heard.”
“Well, unless the Orange Line train added the damn Congo to its route, then your boy is back stateside,” said Cole.
“He’s probably scared to death, running for his life and trying to keep that young child safe.”
“Or he was in on this whole thing, killed everyone in here, including his own brother, and is taking the girl to a hidden location where he can negotiate a bounty. His profile shows extensive military service. He’s even had BUD/S training.” said Asha.
“He’s a SEAL?” asked Walker.
“Everybody’s a flipping SEAL since it became chic. My 90-year-old grandmother takes water aerobics; she’ll be in BUD/S in no time,” said Cole.
“He’s no SEAL, but he’s had the same training. Check this out,” said Asha.
She turned her laptop back to pull up video from a surveillance feed.
“I was waiting for this to download. This is footage of the two of them at a gas station about a mile or so from here.”
Asha hit play on the feed, and the group watched Spade deliver a rising knee strike to a man in a skullcap.
“That doesn’t prove anything. The child doesn’t look to be under any duress. For all we know that guy in the skullcap was robbing the place, and Spade was protecting her. All of it is speculation,” said Walker.
“Then why is Spade running?” said Sweeney, all of sudden. Walker shot him a glare, his second of the young afternoon. All eyes turned his way, and Sweeney seemed to grow more confident as he sensed he had the group’s undivided attention.
“According to dispatch, Officer Mike Spade responded to the ‘shots fired’ call and reported that he had a civilian with him in his vehicle. He comes in here and gets shot, and from the looks of the scene, he took the guy who shot him with him.”
Sweeney started moving about the room, getting more animated.
“His brother probably hears the shots and decides to drive the squad car through the door.”
“That doesn’t make any sense, Sweeney. Spade was a Marine with extensive training. Why would he risk his own life and his brothers, not to mention the children in here by driving that car through the wall,” Walker said it louder than he’d meant to.
Sweeney ignored him.
“What makes even less sense is why this guy hasn’t called 911? His brother was shot and killed, and someone had to drive that car through the damn wall. He gets spotted assaulting a man at a gas station and has the one person who saw everything with him on the damn Orange Line train wearing a Nationals cap? Your brother is dead, so you decide to go to a gas station and then catch the subway to a baseball game? That’s
what doesn’t make any sense.”
Walker grew quiet, as even he could not argue with Sweeney’s logic. Even if Spade had perfectly good explanations for everything they had seen, none of it answered any of their questions.
“Sir, I think we should assume the worst about this guy. We should find out which train they got on and alert our boys at the Metro to stop it between stations. That would give us time to get in position,” suggested Asha.
“No,” Cole responded.
“Sir?”
“Asha, it’s rush hour and the O’s are playing the Nats at Navy Yard tonight. You have a million people on the train right now. I agree that we should alert the Metro officers, but just to keep an eye on him. Find out what station he gets off at. We’ll travel the same route as the train on the road. When he exits, then we’ll nail him.”
“And what if he’s innocent?” asked Walker.
Cole looked around the crime scene before addressing Walker.
“And what if he isn’t?”
~~ Metro Center … Doors Opening … BING! ~~
Taking Brynn by the hand, Spade led her out of the subway car. On the way out, she returned the hat to its owner, much to Spade’s chagrin.
“Your honesty is going to get us both caught. Come on, we have to find the train headed toward Silver Spring.”
Brynn simply smiled while they moved as inconspicuously as possible through the station. Metro Center was pretty large, and along with Gallery Place/Chinatown, it was essentially the central hub of the Metrorail. Every train eventually passed through those neighboring stations, which suited Spade just fine. It was busy, dark and they could blend in easily, or so he assumed. Having already spotted the two, a plain-clothes officer trailed them at a distance.
A few minutes later, they stepped onto a Red Line train. Unbeknownst to them, the undercover officer followed, seating himself discreetly in the back.
“We’ve got eyes on him,” Asha announced while checking a text as her Police Interceptor screamed down Route 66 toward DC.