With the direct number in hand, Henry called the FBI offices. “This is Special Agent Gonzales. Who is speaking?”
“I’m calling on behalf of Jason Caius,” Henry replied, in his most polite tone and with proper vocabulary. Controlling his expletives was torture for him. It made him speak slower, sounding a little stunted, a little retarded, as his friends would say.
“How did you get this number?” Agent Gonzales asked angrily. As if getting personal information, in the digital age, was a difficult task. Any teenager with half a brain can search for or buy someone’s phone number on the internet.
You FBI are so fucking stupid. I found it on a toilet wall, with … ‘for a good blowjob call …’ Henry so desperately wanted to say.
“I was given this number by Deputy Director Warren Spencer, and told to call with the address of a warehouse holding weapons grade biologicals, a warehouse about which you were informed,” Henry calmly forced the words out.
The pain, the suffering one must endure while speaking without expletives. He thought.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Why don’t you come to our offices, and we can chat about this Jason Caius and warehouse situation.” Gonzales added.
Henry lost it.
“Listen, fuck face, I don’t have time for your fucking bullshit and fucking games. You know what the fuck I’m talking about, so pay attention. We’ve confirmed the warehouse has biohazards. And, we’ve confirmed they’re working on a dispersal system, also at the warehouse. Be ready to take it down. I’ll call you on your cell within the next 12 hours with the exact address. Got it?”
“Got it! Can I have your cell …?”
Henry hung up.
* * *
Gordon had been checking encrypted emails at Mike’s house on a daily basis. If not himself, he had Mike check first thing in the morning and the last thing at night. Finally, there was an email from Baba. It simply read.
Jason and Bobby near the Iraq border. Father and Daughter in Turkey. Safe. Will keep you posted.
That same day, Henry got a call from Baba on his cell phone. They too knew each other well. Baba could not stand Henry’s crassness, yet he had the utmost respect for his friendship with Jason. They exchanged and discussed their plans, giving each other quick updates on everyone’s whereabouts.
Henry, Baba and Henry’s man in Denver were all on the same page. The plans were in place to eliminate the minders.
* * *
It was a beautiful sunny day in Palo Alto. Silicon Valley was buzzing with excitement, as another group of kids became paper millionaires. Paper money made by selling yet another useless cloud-based service for the masses, another dating app, photo sharing app, or perhaps another candy crush wannabe app, or a massive multi player app where you push a button thousands of times over many years, killing zombies and vampires.
No matter, the minder was sitting in his master bedroom checking his emails from work. The automatic coffee maker started grinding coffee and then it began to drip water into the fresh coffee grounds, making for an aromatic morning. A nice dark French roast with a hint of hazelnut was inviting him to come downstairs.
He jumped in the shower. It was a seven-headed shower, three each on opposing walls, and one on the ceiling, all pushing out an even stream of water. Water was covering every inch of his body, a luxury, given the California drought. He was but a couple of minutes into his shower when the house alarm blared loudly all around him. He jumped out, quickly wrapping himself with a towel. Walking to the side table by his bed, he took out his fully loaded Glock pistol. He looked at the alarm pad above his bed. The zone 5 light blinked brightly. That was the side door, downstairs, in the kitchen. The phone rang. It was Bay Alarm calling for an identity check. The minder gave the operator the password and after a quick chat hung up. He put on his robe, and went downstairs with his handgun in the ready position.
He began his search.
* * *
The Denver minder was in the underground parking structure at Mike’s company, having followed Mike that morning as part of his daily routine. It was late in the morning. He checked his messages and email, still waiting for his daily status confirmation. None had been forwarded, a bit unusual, but not alarming. Three or four day communication delays from Iran did happen, occasionally. He didn’t give it much thought.
He decided to step out of his warm car, to get himself a fresh cup of coffee. Mike’s office cafeteria served coffee better than what Starbucks served. He liked this job, surrounded by rich and educated people, an easy target to watch, in a nice area of town, a lifestyle to which he had become accustomed. It was a short walk to the cafeteria. Food would be a welcome addition to his coffee. So, food and coffee it was.
* * *
It was nighttime in Copenhagen. Baba’s fourth son and a cousin were sitting in their car, watching a car parked across from Yasmin Akbari’s house. The Copenhagen minder was in it, engine running, sipping something from a small silver flask, rum perhaps. They had been following him for several days and were comfortable with his routine. The minder didn’t think Yasmin was much of a threat and acted accordingly. Once her lights were out, he would take off for his home.
From a distance, they saw Yasmin’s kitchen lights go out. Before the minder could drive off, they drove towards the minder’s neighborhood to prepare for his arrival, parking several houses away from the minder’s. The cousin got out along with a dog she had borrowed days earlier from a neighbor’s yard, a small Dachshund. The dog was old, quiet, and a bit shaky, perfect for the job. The cousin stood near a tree, leaning in, waiting for the minder to arrive. The minder finally arrived. She began her walk towards his house.
As he was getting out, she was nearing the front of his driveway, slowly following the dog with her fist in a doggy bag getting ready to pick up after the old dog. She stopped in the very middle of the driveway looking away from the minder and his house. She was a beautifully formed woman in her twenties, long black hair, perfect skin, and dark blue glimmering eyes. She looked gorgeous under the street lamp. Walking towards his house, he stopped midway to look at her.
“This is the third night in a row I’ve seen you and your dog. It must be karma,” he said, looking down the driveway.
She didn’t understand a word of what he said, but she didn’t need to. She knew the affect she had on the man. She looked back ever so slightly, smiling at him. She turned away, and re-focused on the dog. He walked down to the bottom of the driveway.
“Hi again! Are you new to the neighborhood?” the minder asked.
“Ja!” she said in Danish, again looking at the dog.
The minder moved around, facing her, asking her name.
“Mit navn er Adrianna!” she said, hoping it was the last question he would ask. That was all the Danish she knew.
Finally, the dog did his business. She smiled and lifted the blue poop bag covering her fist. She moved forward towards the dog, who was standing between her and the minder. He was looking down at the dog, not looking at her. She lifted her hand further. Two silenced 22 caliber bullets popped through the plastic bag, into the minder’s forehead. He dropped where he stood. There were no exit wounds. The bullets just ricocheted inside the skull until they stopped, making mush out of the brain.
Baba’s son quickly drove to the base of the driveway. The girl let the dog loose, hopeful it would find its way home. They loaded the body into the car. They both got in and drove around the block to wait, listening for sirens. There were no sirens, which meant no calls and no witnesses. They drove back to the house, parked across the street, opened the trunk and grabbed the man’s house keys. Baba’s son walked to the house carrying a small backpack. At the door, he knocked, waiting. No one answered. He unlocked the door and walked in. He started searching for the man’s computer. He found the office, a laptop and a desktop. He took an electric magnet out, plugged it in, and zapped the hard drives on both devices. He looked through the desk, finding a folder
with pictures of Yasmin along with related documents. He grabbed those, all the flash drives and CDs, shoving them all into his backpack. He did another quick search around the house, but found nothing. Stepping out of the house, he left the door open, walking back to the car.
They began their drive to the train station. Driving over a bridge, they tossed the gun, house keys and the minder’s cell phone into the river. Dropping off the stolen car at a long-term parking lot, they inconspicuously dropped the minder’s wallet in a homeless man’s lap, and caught a train back to Hamburg. Soon after, Baba got a text message.
We dropped off the package!
Baba called Erdal giving him the news. Erdal then passed the phone through a sliding hatch behind the headrest to the father, in the secret compartment.
“You can call your wife now. She too is safe!”
* * *
Mike’s construction company had one of the best food services around. The offices were far from downtown restaurants, and the nearest eatery was over five miles away, so they had to have great food and service in order to keep the employees happy and close to work. Not to mention, during cold snowy winters, no one wanted to drive anywhere. A professional chef and her staff created the menu, with a forty-five day rotating plan. Their breakfasts were superb, the tea and coffee selection fantastic.
The minder ordered his coffee, large and black with a hint of caramel syrup. He then ordered an egg sandwich to go. Two eggs fried, on a French roll with crushed pepper. He paid and then stood to the side waiting for his order. Looking over the free newspapers stacked ten high. He grabbed one and started reading. In the kitchen, his meal was prepared. They poured his coffee and loaded his takeout box. Henry’s man too was in the kitchen keeping watch, doing his part.
“Order #27 is ready,” a uniformed young lady gently yelled, as she looked around for a taker. The minder walked up, still reading the paper, grabbed the takeout box, barely looking up.
“Thanks,” he said, walking away, carrying his food on top of his newspaper.
Using the underground tunnels, it took a minute or so to stroll back to his car. He diligently looked around as he walked, eyeing people he had seen before, making sure no one was following him. He got to his car, looked around once more, checked the inside, and finally got in. He placed the box on the seat next to him. Opening the takeout box, he breathed in the scent of fresh coffee and egg sandwich. He took a sip of his coffee, a little hot. He placed it back, and started on his sandwich. Crunchy bread, easy to bite, and the eggs made perfectly. He devoured the whole sandwich before taking another sip. The coffee was now a perfect temperature. He sat back and enjoyed his coffee, checking his phone every so often for updates.
* * *
Bright lights were all around the parking lot, making a stealthy move impossible. Gordon and Henry’s man were in the stairwell, waiting. Henry’s man decided to take a walk. Taking out his car keys, he started towards the back wall with gusto, as though he was in a rush and knew exactly where he parked his car. As he got closer, he glanced at the minder’s car, seeing him hunched over the steering wheel. He kept walking, dropping his keys. He bent down to pick them up, maneuvering himself to the aisle in which the minder had his car. He moved around and behind the minder’s car. He kept looking and waiting. A minute or so went by, nothing moved. The drugs had done their job. He sent Gordon a quick text, and then moved to open the car door. The front driver’s side was unlocked. Before opening it all the way, he reached in and grabbed the minder’s gun and car keys.
Gordon pulled right in front and parked. He popped the trunk open and made sure no one was watching. The two men loaded the minder in the trunk, binding his legs and hands, duct taping his eyes and mouth. Gordon got back in the car and drove off. Henry’s man got into the minder’s car and followed.
Watching over the CCTV cameras in the security office was Mike. He watched the whole process as it unfolded. Once they had left the property, he looked at the only other member in the room, the chief of security, a friend.
“Erase everything from cameras two and fourteen, for the last 15 minutes.” He watched as the chief deleted the files for both cameras.
“It’s done!” the chief said, as Mike started back to his office.
* * *
Gordon and Henry’s man ended up at a warehouse belonging to Mike’s company, a place where older construction equipment and sub-standard materials were stored while awaiting proper disposal. Very few had access to the facility. It rarely had a visitor. Opening the gate, Gordon and the other car drove through. Gordon locked the gate behind them. They drove onto the property and towards building K. Gordon backed the car to the door. They both got out and dragged the bound man, who was stirring up and struggling. Inside, they dropped the man on the ground, as he kept thrashing about.
Henry’s man got the mix of sodium hydroxide, sodium nitrate, and salt drums ready. He chose the nearest two from a dozen in the storage facility. These were chemicals used in major renovation projects for the sewage cleaning process, with a great side benefit. They were perfect for getting rid of bodies.
“Gordon, you can leave. This part isn’t for you to see,” Henry’s man said while dragging the body closer to the drainage area.
“I’m going to have to cut him up. Otherwise he won’t fit into the plastic drum barrels.” Upon hearing this, the man on the ground started screaming, shaking, and trying to get free.
“Aren’t you going to kill him first?” Gordon asked, standing firm.
“No, why waste a bullet. Besides, the chainsaw will kill him anyway.” Now the man really began to scream and gyrate on the ground.
Henry’s man placed a face shield over his head, slipped into a painter’s body suit, and began pulling on the starter cord. Seven or eight pulls into it, the saw started roaring. He moved towards the man. Gordon stepped forward, interrupting Henry’s man from the side, being careful not to get close to the working chainsaw. He drew a gun from his belt and pointed at the bound man’s head.
“I can’t let him suffer like this,” Gordon yelled over the chainsaw.
“I have my orders,” Henry’s man yelled back, pointing the chain saw at the man on the ground.
“What orders?” Gordon said, holding him back.
“Mike’s,” he said.
“Make him suffer!” He ordered.
Before Henry’s man could take another step, Gordon shot the minder in the heart twice and once in the head.
“Mike will never know.”
Henry’s man nodded, casually. He really couldn’t care either way. The body was then properly quartered, and placed into two half-filled forty-gallon plastic drums filled with one of the best bio cremation liquids available on the market, Drano. The process would take some time, but time and privacy were two things this facility had in abundance. The cutting and submersion process, including the cleanup, took two hours.
Having disposed of the body, they inspected the man’s car for any incriminating bits and pieces, which could lead back to Mike or his family. They took the cleaned car and parked it in a seedy part of Denver, then drove to the minder’s house to clean up there. The minder’s house was a converted loft on South Broadway. Gordon dropped off Henry’s man a block away and then headed back to Mike’s house. Henry’s man used the minder’s keys, entering the building lobby, taking the elevator to the third floor. He was soon in front of the minder’s apartment door. Looking over the man’s keys, he noticed a key fob. A key fob used not for a car, but for a security system.
I hope this is for this house! Hoping there wasn’t another secret hideaway to be found.
The door was unlocked, and once opened, the security system triggered a thirty-second timer. He walked in, clicking the fob near the reader by the door, stopping the timer. He spent the next hour removing the hard drives from the computers, collecting all discs and flash drives, gathering all printed evidence. He did a superb job, leaving the place in pristine and clean condition. Once finish
ed, he walked out of the building, and down the street past several bus stops. He caught a bus at the third stop. By late afternoon, Gordon and Henry each received a text.
All is good. All is clean. I’m going home.
Late that evening, Henry’s man got on a Greyhound bus back to Los Angeles.
* * *
The California minder carefully made his way downstairs to determine why the alarm had gone off. He walked straight for the closed and locked kitchen door. Regardless, he briefly stepped out, looking to both sides. He inspected the lock jam, finding no signs of forced entry. He looked at the specialized anti-picking lock and saw no signs, scratches, or marks. He came back in, relocking the door and continued searching the house. He inspected all the rooms, and finally went back upstairs, and finished by inspecting the rooms upstairs. Once satisfied, he went to his office. He looked around. Nothing was out of place. He took his gun and back he went to finish his shower and to get ready for the day.
In no time, he was back downstairs, with a freshly brewed cup of coffee in hand, reading his Wall Street Journal. He hated that Rupert Murdoch had bought and sullied the WSJ’s brand, but his was a company-paid subscription. He was less than a third of a cup into reading when his legs began to buckle under his weight, he couldn’t even hold his own weight against the counter, and he just fell to the ground. Coming out of the garage and standing above him was Henry
“Yes, you guessed it. I spiked your coffee with a neurotoxin!” henry said with a smile.
He dragged the fully awake but completely limp body to the couch in the breakfast nook. He rolled up the minder’s sleeves, and took out a syringe and a large vial of liquefied heroin from the shaving kit he had brought. He injected the man with a full load, and added a collection of puncture marks to each arm, supporting a bad habit. He left the gear behind as evidence, along with a lighter and some cigarettes.
The Minders Page 20