New York City Murders

by W. D. Frolick

  Suddenly, Kruger’s warm demeanor turned to ice. “You think you’re so fucking smart, don’t you? Did you figure it all out by yourself, or did little bitch Kristie do it for you? Anyway, I won’t be here for you to prove anything in court. There’s no way I’m gonna spend the rest of my life in prison where the life of a former cop’s not worth a plug nickel.”

  “I wouldn’t count on getting out of the country. We’ll catch you, you can count on that.”

  Unknown to Kruger, Buck had been recording their conversation.

  It was 7:45 p.m. when Woods turned onto Halleck Street and stopped in front of the old, abandoned grain elevator. He left the engine running, the headlights piercing the dark night. There was no sign of another vehicle in the immediate vicinity. For the first time, the two men sat in silence, each with his own thoughts. At 8:00 p.m., a black SUV materialized out of nowhere and parked about thirty-feet in front of the squad car.

  Shielding his eyes from the blinding lights, Woods said, “It looks like your chariot has arrived. See you soon, Kruger.”

  “Not if I can help it, Buckley, my man.”

  Without another word, Buck stepped out of the car, opened the back door, and yanked Kruger out. The driver, wearing a ski mask, got out of the SUV. He pulled Charlotte from the back seat while two large men, also wearing ski masks, emerged from the vehicle holding handguns.

  “I’d appreciate if you’d remove these cuffs,” Kruger said.

  Buck uncuffed him, and Kruger began to walk toward the three men. The man holding Charlotte’s arm released her, and she ran to Buck. He embraced her and said, “Charlotte, I’m Detective Buck Woods. Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

  “No, Detective, they didn’t hurt me. I’m okay. Thanks for coming to get me.”

  “No need to thank me. I’m just doing my job. It’s your father and Police Commissioner Gowan who deserve all the thanks and credit.”

  A few seconds later, Charlotte was seated next to him. Buck punched the gas, and the tires squealed as he made a tight U-turn. The SUV followed for a few minutes then turned off and headed in the opposite direction.

  “I’d better call in, your father is waiting to hear that you’re safe.”

  A command center had been set up in Captain Robertson’s office. The eyes of Captain Robertson, Mayor Chandler, and Commissioner Gowan were glued to a monitor on the captain’s desk. For some unknown reason, Detective Kristie Karlsson had not shown up, and she had not called in.

  A sophisticated Global Positioning System was wirelessly communicating with the microchip that had been implanted and filled over in the cavity of Kruger’s tooth. The monitor showed the exact position of the vehicle carrying Lieutenant Karl Kruger. The SUV was traveling north on I-278.

  The phone rang. Seeing it was Buck, Captain Robertson put it on speaker.

  “Detective Woods, I presume you have good news.”

  “Yes, I do. I’ve got Charlotte. She’s safe and sound, and we’ll be there soon.”

  “That’s great news.”

  With tears in his eyes, Mayor Chandler asked, “May I speak to my daughter, please?”

  “Just a second, Mr. Mayor,” Buck said, handing the phone to Charlotte.

  “Hi, Daddy.”

  “Hello, my dear. Thank God you’re safe. Are you all right?”

  “Yes, Daddy, I’m okay, but I could use a shower and some decent food.”

  They all laughed, releasing the tension everyone was feeling.

  “That will be our first priority when we get you home. See you soon, my dear.”

  Thirty minutes later, when Woods and Charlotte arrived, everyone clapped and cheered. Charlotte rushed into her father’s open arms. They both broke down and hugged tightly, not wanting to let go. Even Captain Robertson and Commissioner Gowan were misty-eyed.

  Buck’s cell phone rang. The screen showed Kristie Karlsson.

  “Kristie, where the hell are you? Are you okay?”

  “Buckley, my man. You all thought you were so smart putting a microchip in my tooth. I just had the tooth pulled. It hurts like hell, but you won’t be able to track me now. My tooth and your microchip have been crushed into dust. Oh, and if you’re wondering where your sweet little bitch is, she was picked up earlier and will be my guest until I get out of the country. Should you try to stop me, Kristie will be history. And don’t try to trace this call, because when I hang up, this phone will only be bits and pieces. Goodbye, Buckley.”

  Woods stood there in stunned silence. Finally, he turned to the others and said, “That was Kruger. Somehow he found out about the microchip. He’s had his tooth pulled and crushed. He told me that Detective Karlsson has been kidnapped, and if we try to pursue him, she will be killed.”

  Everyone stared in disbelief at the screen. The red dot showing Kruger’s location had disappeared. The elation of Charlotte’s safe return was short-lived. The room now felt like a morgue.

  CHAPTER 25

  “Shit!” Commissioner Gowan groaned. “How the hell did Kruger find out about the microchip?”

  “Maybe someone at Rikers tipped him off,” Buck said.

  “The only person who knew was Dr. Charles,” the commissioner said. “I can’t believe it would be him.”

  “Kruger’s no dummy,” Buck said. “Maybe he figured it out on his own.”

  “Maybe, but I doubt it,” Gowan said, scratching his head.

  “At this point, it doesn’t matter how he found out. We’ve got to find a way to save Kristie and catch Kruger before he gets out of the country,” Buck said.

  Unknown to her, Kristie awoke on the same bed in the same musty-smelling basement room where Charlotte Chandler had previously been held captive. She still felt groggy from the drug that had been injected into her neck. Where was she and how did she get here? Gradually it began to come back to her. She had left her condo shortly after 5:00 p.m. on her way to the station house. As she stepped off the elevator into the underground parking garage, someone grabbed her from behind. Before she could react, a large hand covered her mouth, and a few seconds later everything went black.

  Kristie glanced at her watch. It read 9:18 p.m. She guessed that she had been unconscious for about four hours. She checked, but her cell phone was missing. Whoever her abductors were, they didn’t want her making or receiving any calls. She heard a noise and sat up on the edge of the bed. The deadbolt rattled, a key turned, and then the metal door across the room squeaked open. It was dark, but her eyes had adjusted enough to make out a tall figure standing in the doorway. As the man entered the room, she blinked and stared in disbelief at a familiar face. It was Kruger!

  He stopped about five feet from the bed, smiled, and politely said, “Detective Karlsson, it’s so nice to see you again. I only wish it were under different circumstances.”

  Kristie jumped to her feet, confronting him head-on. “Kruger, you maniac. What the hell are you trying to do?”

  “I’m trying to get out of the country, and you’re the insurance policy that’ll help me do that.”

  “You must be insane. You’ll never get away with it.”

  “Why is everybody so negative? Your loverboy said the same thing.”

  “He’s right. You’re not going anywhere.”

  “I beg to disagree. Maybe you can come with me, and we can pick up where we left off. I really would like to get to know you better.” Kruger laughed. “Oh, I forgot, you are coming with me. Since you won’t have a chance to pack your bikini, I’ll buy you one when we get there.”

  “What are you talking about? When we get where?”

  “I hope you like flying because you and I are going on a little trip.”

  Kruger lunged forward and tried to grab Kristie. Using her karate skills, she kicked out, striking him in the groin. When he doubled over, she chopped him on the back of the neck, and he dove forward, hitting
the bed before rolling onto the concrete floor. He groaned and managed to mutter, “You bitch. You fuckin’ bitch.”

  Hearing the commotion, two of her kidnappers rushed into the room. Kristie put up a gallant fight, but she was no match for the overpowering men. Within two minutes her wrists and ankles were wrapped in duct tape, and she was lying on the bed, glaring up at them.

  His head throbbing, Kruger slowly got to his feet. He stood over Kristie and scowled. “You’re a feisty little bitch, aren’t you? You’re like a wild animal, but I’m gonna have fun taming you. Sooner or later you’ll come around. In the meantime, we have a plane to catch.”

  After Mayor Chandler and Charlotte had left, accompanied by a police escort, Commissioner Gowan said, “Now that we can’t track Kruger, we’ll have to figure out a new plan. We’ll have to try to put ourselves in his shoes. How do you think he’s planning on getting out of the country?”

  Buck pondered for a moment. “If I were him, I’d charter a plane. He knows we’ll be watching all the main airports. Based on our conversation, he said he was heading somewhere warm. My guess is he’s still planning on going to Vanuatu, a country that doesn’t have an extradition treaty with the United States. When we arrested him, he was wearing a disguise. I’m sure he’ll disguise himself this time as well.”

  “That sounds logical,” agreed the commissioner.

  “If he’s chartered a plane, it’s probably from a nearby airport. I’d say it’s either Westchester County Airport in White Plains or Teterboro Airport in New Jersey,” said Captain Robertson.

  “Then we don’t have any time to waste,” Commissioner Gowan said.

  “Buck and I will start making calls to see if either of those airports has a charter booked to fly to Vanuatu,” Captain Robertson said.

  Fifteen minutes later, the only charter they found was leaving from Teterboro Airport for Los Angeles at midnight. The plane was a Gulfstream G550. It was registered to Trans Global Charters Inc. and had been chartered by a businessman named James P. Smith. When Buck Googled the name, he found several people named James P. Smith in the New York area. One was a publisher of research papers, another was a partner in a New York law firm, and one was a male nurse who had recently passed away at the ripe old age of eighty-four. The list went on and on.

  After Buck presented the information to Commissioner Gowan, he frowned and said, “Looks like that was a dead end.”

  “Maybe not,” Buck said. “If Kruger booked a charter to Vanuatu, it would be too obvious. I bet the booking to Los Angeles is a decoy. Once in the air, my guess is they will head straight to Vanuatu. I’m sure Kruger has bribed the pilot, or he will force him to go directly to Vanuatu instead of landing in L.A. Let me check something.” He Googled the Gulfstream 550. In seconds the information came up on the screen. “The Gulfstream 550 has a range of 6,750 nautical miles. I checked before. It’s about 8,400 miles from here to Vanuatu. Leaving with a full tank, they will need to make one stop to refuel.”

  “You could be right,” said the commissioner. “It’s a gamble, but we really don’t have a choice. Let’s get to Teterboro first and arrange a welcoming party for Lieutenant Kruger and his friends.”

  By 9:30 p.m. the commissioner had made the necessary arrangements. Buck joined the SWAT team, and they headed to New Jersey. Trying to be inconspicuous, they used an ambulance with a fake private name instead of the usual SWAT vehicle. The ambulance could use the siren and not attract attention like a SWAT vehicle would.

  When they arrived at Teterboro Airport, all appeared quiet. Buck, had obtained the airplane’s registration number while on the phone. Surveying the scene, he spotted a Gulfstream 550 sitting on the tarmac with the door open and passenger boarding stairs in place. The registration number matched the one he had jotted down on a piece of paper.

  “Bingo! That’s the plane, and it’s ready for boarding. It looks like we beat Kruger here,” Buck said to the SWAT leader, Captain Joe Perkins, a forty-year-old veteran of the NYPD.

  The captain placed two snipers on a rooftop overlooking the airplane, and he instructed the other three members to make themselves invisible in the surrounding area.

  “Kruger will probably be here soon,” Perkins said. “We don’t have much time to come up with a plan.”

  “May I make a suggestion?” Buck said.

  “Certainly.”

  “Why don’t you and I go on board and talk to the pilots? We’ll inform them why we’re here and hide out on the plane. When Kruger and his band of merry men arrive, we’ll surprise them, grab Kruger, and rescue my partner.”

  “Good idea. I’ll inform my men.”

  After Perkins had updated his team, he and Buck boarded the plane. The pilot and co-pilot were in the cockpit, chatting.

  When they saw Perkins in his tactical SWAT uniform and Buck in his NYPD caviler vest, their conversation stopped in midsentence.

  “What’s going on?” the pilot asked.

  “We’re NYPD,” Buck said. “I’m Detective Woods, and this is Captain Perkins.”

  Buck went on to explain the situation. Then he outlined his plan. Having no desire to get into trouble with the law, the two pilots agreed to cooperate fully.

  “How many passengers are you expecting?” Captain Perkins asked.

  “As far as I know, just two. Mr. Smith and his secretary,” the pilot said.

  “When I checked with your booking office, they said the plane was chartered to go to Los Angeles by a Mr. James P. Smith, a businessman. I was told the flight was scheduled to leave at midnight. Is that correct?” asked Buck.

  “That’s right,” confirmed the pilot.

  Glancing around at the luxurious interior, Buck whistled and turned to Perkins. “Wow! What a great way to travel. Leave it to Kruger. Nothing but the best. First-class all the way.”

  “Too bad he won’t get a chance to enjoy it,” Captain Perkins replied.

  Just then, through the open door, they heard the sound of a vehicle approaching. Buck glanced at his watch––11:22 p.m. If it was Kruger, he was right on time. He peeked out a window and saw a black stretch limousine pull up and stop at the foot of the boarding stairs. The driver, dressed in a chauffeur’s uniform, pressed a button and the trunk lid popped open. He got out, went around, and opened the back door. A man about the height and size of Kruger emerged. Instead of brown hair, the man’s hair was black, and unlike Kruger, he had a black mustache. He walked like Kruger, but he didn’t look like him. The man was dressed in a dark blue business suit––white shirt, no tie. He strolled to the back of the limo and pulled out a carry on suitcase and a briefcase from the trunk. The man in the suit stood aside as the chauffeur leaned in and lifted a woman out of the back seat. Cradling her in his arms, he turned and headed toward the boarding stairs. The body was limp, like a rag doll. Buck could not tell if she was dead or unconscious. But the one thing he knew for sure: the woman was Detective Kristie Karlsson.

  CHAPTER 26

  Pistols ready, Buck and Perkins stood on either side of the doorway. As the chauffeur, carrying Kristie entered the airplane, he was surprised to see Captain Perkins step in front of him.

  “NYPD. Hold it right there,” Perkins demanded.

  Unexpectedly, the chauffeur tossed Kristie directly at Perkins. The captain lost his balance and fell backward. The gun flew out of his hand, and Kristie landed on top of him, pinning Perkins to the floor. The chauffeur reached inside his jacket and pulled out a handgun. Before he could fire, Buck squeezed the trigger. The bullet penetrated the side of the chauffeur’s head, killing him instantly. He fell forward, covering Kristie with his large frame. She moaned as Buck rolled the dead body off of her. He picked her up and gently placed her on a seat.

  Looking embarrassed, Perkins got to his feet and said, “Thanks, Detective. I owe you one.” He bent down and retrieved his gun.

  Kristie’s eyes fluttere
d open. She smiled weakly when she saw Buck. “Hi, partner. I was wondering when you’d come and rescue me.”

  Relieved Kristie was still alive and hadn’t lost her sense of humor, Buck grinned, and said, “Was there ever any doubt that I’d find you? After all, you’re my partner, and I don’t want to lose you.”

  Kristie whispered, “That’s what partners do, right? They have each other’s back.”

  “Damn right,” Buck said. “That’s what partners do.”

  Watching from the cockpit, the pilot turned to the co-pilot, shrugged and said, “It looks like our flight to L.A. has just been canceled.”

  “Yeah, we won’t be going anywhere tonight,” agreed the co-pilot. “I was really looking forward to seeing my sexy lady friend.”

  Kruger had made it halfway up the stairs when he heard the gunshot. He dropped his luggage and turned, only to see his escape route blocked. Three SWAT team members stood at the bottom of the stairs, pointing assault rifles directly at him.

  While Buck was attending to Kristie, Captain Perkins rushed to the door to look for Kruger. What he saw made him smile. Kruger, with his hands cuffed behind his back, was being escorted to the fake ambulance.

  Before leaving the plane, Buck called to update Captain Robertson and Commissioner Gowan. They had been sitting on pins and needles in the captain’s office, awaiting his call. They were relieved when they heard Kristie had been rescued and that Kruger had been recaptured.

  “By the way,” Buck said, “we have a dead body that needs to be processed.” He went on to explain what had happened and why he had to shoot the chauffeur.

  “We’ll inform the Teterboro PD about the situation so that their noses don’t get out of joint,” Captain Robertson said before hanging up.

  Captain Perkins left two SWAT members to guard the scene until a forensics team, and the ME could get there.