by Margaret Kay
“You better get used to people barging in, Ruth. They don’t knock in prison either,” Garcia said.
“Prison? What are you talking about?”
“Obstruction of justice by altering records associated with a workplace accident that caused the loss of life, and lying to federal investigators when under oath, which is the equivalent of perjury, both punishable by a prison sentence,” Lambchop said. “That’s for starters. If we can prove you were involved in the kidnappings of both Annaka Sanchez and of Remington Ipsen and her family, those charges will be added too.”
“Who are those people? I don’t even know who they are. I had nothing to do with any kidnappings.”
A wry grin spread over Garcia’s face. “Didn’t dispute the other charges, I see.”
“I want an attorney,” Ruth demanded.
Lambchop chuckled. “And there it is. But Ruth, you forgot to insist on the deal.”
Confusion swept over her face.
“The line your coworkers have used is, I want an attorney and a deal. You must not have been paying attention during new employee orientation,” Lambchop told her, which garnered him more confusion from Ruth Arnold’s facial expression.
“This is simple, Ruth. You tell us who ordered you to wipe those status update emails from your server, when that order came, and if they are recoverable at all. And then you testify as a whistleblower and you won’t see any prison time,” Garcia added.
“You don’t understand,” she whined.
“What do they have on you?” Lambchop asked. “That seems to be their M.O.”
“You’re good at what you do,” Garcia said. “You can get a job anywhere else.”
Ruth Arnold shook her head. The expression on her face was nothing short of terrified.
“Ruth, we can protect you,” Lambchop said.
“Get me it in writing. Full immunity from all crimes, protection, and a job someplace else. I don’t care where. The farther from here, the better.”
Lambchop and Garcia exchanged glances. “And you will answer all our questions then?”
“Yes, and I will provide you with concrete proof. I have recordings and emails and a lot of them are pretty damning.”
“What are they threatening to divulge that you need full immunity from?” Lambchop asked.
Ruth’s eyes filled with tears. Her gaze darted all around the room.
“Come on, Ruth, we need to know what we’re agreeing to and we need to know who to go to, to get that immunity for you,” Lambchop pressed.
She breathed out a heavy sigh. “A hit and run. Someone was killed. It was an accident and probably not really my fault, but I was drunk.”
“And they’ve held it over your head?” Lambchop asked.
“Yes. That is why I did what they told me to. Now, will you get me that immunity in writing?”
“Done,” Garcia guaranteed. “Leave with us right now. We’ll take you someplace safe.”
She grabbed her coat, purse, and laptop bag. Lambchop went ahead and brought the car around to the side door. He notified Cooper and Madison. Garcia and Ruth Arnold exited and got into the car.
“What she has better be worth it, gentlemen,” Shepherd warned. “A felony hit and run, which most likely would be tried as manslaughter getting a pass, is not the type of deal that the Justice Department routinely makes.”
“I know Shep,” Lambchop said. “The lady says she has the goods on whoever ordered it.” He leaned back in his chair and viewed Ruth Arnold through the glass window of the closed office door she sat behind in the suite at the proctology office.
“And we’ll be sure she knows that if her intel isn’t actionable, there will be no deal,” Garcia added.
“Okay,” Shepherd agreed. “I’ll get a hold of the Justice Department.”
“I’m going to go back to Carstairs and look more into Aaron Pence’s building entries and emails,” Garcia said.
“We’ve got her,” Sloan said. “I’m sure it will be a few hours before Shepherd comes back with the offer of immunity.”
Juliette
It was two hours exactly before Shepherd contacted the team that he had the immunity deal in hand. It was standard boilerplate verbiage, immunity for actionable intelligence and a requirement for the proof of any allegations to hold up in court. Lambchop hoped that Ruth Arnold had concrete proof on whoever she would implicate.
They laid the deal out for her. She didn’t hesitate to sign it.
“You understand, Ruth, that the proof has to be explicit for this agreement to be honored,” Lambchop said.
“It is,” she guaranteed. She took her laptop from its bag and logged in. She clicked a few keys and then turned it to face the men. “Emails between Napolitano, Paulo, and Devlin implicating themselves in the falsification of records, the kidnapping of Dr. Annaka Sanchez on Christmas Eve, even the order to blow up her house and take Dr. Remington Ipsen’s family hostage. All of it. As a bonus, I even have every status email about the leak that was sent before they were deleted.”
“I thought you didn’t know anything about the kidnappings?” Lambchop said.
“I lied,” Ruth replied. “They don’t know I have all of this. You will see I was not copied in on any of these emails. I was merely ordered to delete all record of them from the server which I did, after I copied them here. And here is the email chain related to that. You will see this is the only one I am copied in on.”
Garcia scrolled through the file. There had to be over two hundred emails. He opened his own laptop and remoted into hers, typing out commands on both keyboards. He copied all the files to his own machine. He read a few while he was at it. She had damned incriminating evidence.
“Anything else?” Lambchop asked.
“I have recordings,” Ruth Arnold said.
“Recordings?” Lambchop repeated.
Ruth opened another password-protected file on her laptop. She activated one of the recordings. Denise Paulo’s voice came through the speakers. “Don’t give me any of your mealy-mouth-chicken-shit waffling. There is no backing out now, Dennis. The brakes aren’t working on this train.”
“Kidnapping her for whatever the hell Keeling’s plan was, was one thing, but blowing her up in her house is something entirely different. I’m not on board with murder.”
“Are you on board with making money, Dennis? Because that’s what we are talking about. And a lot of it. If our estimations are correct, and I’m sure they are, that untapped reserve in the lower Cook Inlet is bigger than any other reserve in that area, damn-near as big as the field under Venezuela. It could make the current fourteen thousand barrels per day production look like a trickle.”
“Fine,” Napolitano agreed.
Ruth Arnold sat back, satisfied with herself. “There are several more just as damning as that one.”
“Did you bug the conference room we are set up in?” Garcia asked.
“Of course, I did. I had to keep tabs on how close you were getting to me.” Her eyes remained focused on Garcia. “You knew it was there all along, didn’t you? I got nothing off that bug.”
The corners of Garcia’s lips tipped up. Lambchop could tell that he was impressed with Ruth’s ingenuity. She was ballsy, that was for sure. “Yes. I swept the room daily.”
“I’m not sure who you guys really are, and I probably don’t want to. I get the feeling if I knew you’d have to kill me.”
Lambchop chuckled at that. “I promise you. It’s nothing that sinister.” His haze shifted to Garcia. “Let’s get this proof to HQ and get our warrants for Napolitano and Paulo. I want to see them in handcuffs before I go to sleep tonight.”
“I want to wrap this up and be out of here before I go to sleep. I’d like nothing better than to be snuggled up to my wife when she wakes in the morning.”
Lambchop cracked a smile at that statement. He liked Sienna, Garcia’s wife. She softened him. He couldn’t wait to see Garcia as a father. He knew he’d be an amazing dad and would
soften even more when he was with his kid. In the field, though, he was a hard and unyielding Operator. Had Ruth Arnold yanked their chains, Garcia would have flattened her.
“One more thing, Ruth. Aaron Pence’s death,” Lambchop began.
“It was Denise Paulo. She arranged that. One of the other recordings I have is of her discussing it.”
Warrants arrived after working hours. Mother surveilled Denise Paulo after she left the office. Jackson was on Napolitano. The rest of the team planned the two takedowns at the proctology office. They would execute the warrants simultaneously. Lambchop, Sloan, and Sherman would meet up with Mother and arrest Denise Paulo. The rest of Alpha Team would join Jackson and slap the cuffs on Dennis Napolitano.
As they moved into position, Denise Paulo left her apartment. “Hold on moving on your target, Alpha,” Lambchop broadcast to Alpha Team. “Our target is on the move. Traffic is too heavy to take her.”
They followed her to the Midland International Airport and Space Port. It was where they’d flown into, but the company Lear was no longer there. Lambchop considered calling for it now so they could get out of there as soon as they made the arrests. She drove into a long-term parking garage.
“Target going into long-term parking. We’ll take her down there,” Lambchop reported.
“Affirmative. Our target is having a martini in his kitchen,” Cooper stated. “Hope he enjoys it. He won’t be having one for a very long time. Advise before you move in.”
“Roger that,” Lambchop said. He glanced at Sloan, who sat beside him. In his rearview mirror, he saw the vehicle Mother and Sherman were in. “Ops, be advised we are following our target into the parking garage, will execute the takedown inside. Be prepared to alert the airport police and the local FBI.”
“Roger that, Delta,” Caleb ‘Hound dog’ Smith’s voice came. “Alpha, let us know when you need the local authorities notified.”
“Roger Hound dog,” Madison said. “We are moving into position now.”
Lambchop followed Denise Paulo’s car to the third-floor parking deck. She pulled into a spot in the far back corner, as far from the elevator and walkway to the terminal that she could.
“Moving into position,” he transmitted. “There are no civilians in our theater. Lord, keep us all in your care, protect us all and the targets. Let these be textbook takedowns. We pray this in your Son’s name, Amen.”
“Amen,” the others answered.
Then he stomped his foot down on the gas pedal and sped directly at her car. She was at the trunk. It was open, and she was pulling a suitcase from it. He applied the brakes and came to a screeching stop just inches from her. The car drove by Mother came in, blocking her in the corner. The four men exited their vehicles, weapons drawn.
“Denise Paulo, federal agents. We have a warrant for your arrest!” Lambchop yelled.
Denise Paulo produced a Glock 19 and fired off a few rounds. The bullets struck the side panel of the door, too close for comfort, and the sound of gunfire echoed through the garage. She left her suitcase where it was and moved to the front of her car.
“You’re surrounded Denise. This doesn’t end any way but you in custody. Don’t make this harder or accumulate any more charges than there already are. There are emails and recordings. We know all about Alaska, the kidnappings and the order to blow up the researcher’s house. Oil reserve bigger than under Venezuela, huh? Throw the gun out into the open and come out with your hands up.”
He was answered with a few more rounds striking the door.
“Let’s try to take her alive,” he said into his comms.
“I’ve alerted local authorities,” Smith said. “They’ll wait for my signal to enter your theater.”
“Give me your status, Alpha,” Tony ‘Wang’ Miraldi’s voice broke in. He was another analyst that manned Ops when they were short-staffed.
“In position. Sending Xena to his door.”
“Come on, Denise,” Lambchop yelled to her.
“I’m not going to jail,” she yelled back from her position concealed in front of her car.
“You’re not walking out of here,” Lambchop said. He motioned to the cars on either side of Denise’s. “Birdman, cover the car on the left,” He whispered into his comms.
“Roger,” Sherman’s voice replied.
“I’m not going to jail,” she repeated. “I’m not stupid, kidnapping carries with it the same sentence as murder. My life is over. I have nothing to lose.”
“It was a mistake, Denise. You have committed a crime and will pay for it,” Lambchop yelled. “But your life is not over. You do have something to lose. You have your mortal soul to lose. Heaven and redemption will be granted to those who declare their sins to God.” He circled around the car beside hers to the right. He remained crouched down low and he moved silently.
“Sorry, I am no perfect holy roller! There will be no heaven for me.”
“I am not perfect either, am far from it. I fail God. I am human, just as you are. I pray that my shortcomings are a lesson that others will learn from. Redemption awaits all of us, Denise. God loves you and will forgive you of your transgressions if your heart is pure in asking. Let me help you. Put the gun down,” he urged.
In a split second she turned the gun on herself, pressing the barrel between her lips, and she pulled the trigger. The loud gunshot reverberated through the garage. The gun clanked to the cement floor beside her crumpled body.
Lambchop felt a crushing pain grip his heart. Tears filled his eyes. “No,” he whispered.
“Oh shit, she just ate her gun. Ops, send in the local LEOs and call the coroner,” Mother broadcast.
“Damn,” Smith’s voice came through everyone’s comms. “Roger.”
Lambchop kneeled beside her body. Her brain matter and blood were splattered all over the wall and floor. “Heavenly Father, forgive your child. Recognize her fear in her last Earthly act. I pray there was some love in her heart. I pray there is hope for reconciliation with You. I pray for those she left behind who cared about her. Bring them peace. Amen,” he said quietly.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. He glanced up. It was Mother. “She chose her path.”
He heard sirens in the distance. “That doesn’t make it any easier.” He stood and made eye contact with Sherman and then Sloan.
“You did everything you could,” Sloan said. He glanced at her. He knew they’d be picking up pieces of her skull for hours. “Damned waste.”
Sherman clasped Lambchop on the shoulder next. “At least she didn’t empty the magazine on us and make us kill her. Suicide is suicide, be it by a gun in the mouth or by a cop. She had a choice and she determined how it would go down.”
“I know,” Lambchop muttered. Sherman was right. She just as easily could have committed suicide by cop and made them shoot her.
Through his comms, he heard the activity going down at Dennis Napolitano’s house. Madison rang his doorbell. He greeted her like he’d just been given a birthday gift. The three other members of Alpha Team swarmed in, pinning him against the wall.
“Target secure,” Cooper broadcast. “Dennis Napolitano, you are under arrest.” He continued with the full Miranda rights speech that all the members of Shepherd Security had memorized. “Ops, call in the local FBI to take custody. Scene secure.”
“Roger that, Coop,” Miraldi replied.
Kilo
Lambchop leaned his head against the seat as the Lear took off. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind. It didn’t work. Denise Paulo’s death really bothered him. It was so unnecessary. Had she just put her gun down and came with them, she’d still be alive. Had she not concocted the kidnapping scheme, none of this would have happened. He didn’t forget that Remi Ipsen’s two young children had been threatened and would probably have been killed had there been no intervention. And the twenty rig workers who died horrific deaths! Unnecessary and tragic. How did someone get to be like she was, so unconcerned with human life? He knew ther
e was real evil in this world, but he hadn’t recognized it in her when he saw her.
He said a prayer to himself he said often. “Heavenly Father, bring peace, forgiveness, and understanding to my heart. Keep me focused on your mission here on Earth. Remind me of the good all around me, of the strength in moral people’s actions, knowing that Godliness outweighs evil. Fill my heart with joy knowing that justice has been served. Amen.”
Turbulence shook him awake. The cabin lights were dimmed. Glancing around, he saw the others were asleep. Madison and Cooper snuggled in reclined seats. What they had was special. He checked his watch. They were still a few hours out. The sun would be up shortly. He opened his heart to God’s love and felt calm soak into him. He felt refreshed. He felt mentally clear. Denise Paulo chose her path. He’d offered her salvation. She’d refused. He said a morning prayer silently, as he did every morning upon waking.