The Darkness of Evil

by Jacobson, Alan

  “I’m with Vail,” Ramos said.

  Hurdle mulled that over, then said, “Okay, the seven of us go. We’ll treat him like a hostile.”

  Walters glanced over at the screen. “Any firearms-related offenses?”

  “Nothing in the system.” Tarkoff shrugged. “Doesn’t mean much, if you ask me.”

  “I agree,” Hurdle said. “Wear your vests.”

  They took two cars and half an hour later they were sitting at the mouth of the cul-de-sac, a few houses away from Gaines’s location.

  “Nice homes,” Morrison said. “Three or four thousand square feet, probably half a mil apiece. Maybe they’ve got another vacant place nearby?” He saw Vail’s look and gave her a half grin. “Just saying—wouldn’t mind spending a weekend, or a month or two, here.”

  Vail removed her Glock and got out of the vehicle, joining Hurdle at the front bumper of his sedan. “How about you and Walters deploy around back while I go up and knock? Woman, less threatening. Curtis and Rambo can take up positions by those trees about ten and fifteen yards from the door, Morrison and Tarkoff can take the sides of the house in case he jumps out one of the first-floor windows.”

  “I like it.” Hurdle nodded at the men. “You heard Vail. Let’s do it.”

  They moved into place swiftly, using the cover of bushes and thick tree trunks. As Vail approached the front lawn of the Colonial-style home, a car horn began honking.

  What the hell?

  Vail swiveled and tried to locate the vehicle. This is deliberate. A spotter, watching out for Gaines, warning him someone was approaching the house?

  She was sure everyone heard the signal and realized what was happening. Before she could turn to make eye contact with Curtis and Ramos, gunshots burst through the front door. Vail dove to the grass, nearly dropping her Glock.

  Seconds later the assault stopped.

  “You okay?” Hurdle asked over the radio.

  As Vail and Curtis ran a zigzag route toward the front of the house, Vail keyed her mic. “We’re fine.” But the homeowners are not gonna be happy when they get back to Virginia and find their house shot to hell.

  “This is just great,” Curtis said. “He’s obviously not coming out and we can’t go in.”

  Ramos positioned himself on the opposite side of the doorway behind a large planter. “Why the hell not?”

  “No reason to. This is now a barricade situation.”

  Vail stood up and pressed her back against a pillar on the wood deck. “We should have SWAT deal with this.”

  “Good call,” Curtis said. “Can’t argue with that.”

  “I can argue with that,” Ramos said as he peeked over the planter to get a better look.

  “There’s no exigency,” Vail said. “No reason to go in. No one in harm’s way. He’s not even threatening to kill himself.”

  “I’m calling it in, making the request,” Curtis said as he drew his radio.

  The three of them heard the reply: SWAT was seventeen minutes out.

  Vail texted the rest of the team, who also heard SWAT’s ETA, and requested a SITREP—situation report—from each of them.

  Seconds later, their responses came through: the rear of the house took gunfire as well. The sides were quiet.

  Second gunman in there with Gaines? Marcks? Or was Gaines just standing in the middle of the residence and firing in both directions?

  “We need to go in,” Ramos said.

  “Were you not listening?” Curtis asked.

  “Booker Gaines,” Vail yelled through the door. “This is the police. SWAT is en route. Throw down your weapon and come out with your hands on your head. We just want to talk.” Well, now I want to kick you in the nuts. But officially, we just want to talk.

  “Go away or I’ll kill everyone in here!”

  Vail and Curtis exchanged a look.

  Vail keyed her radio. “Hurdle, you hear that?”

  “I did.”

  Curtis elbowed her. “You got him to talk once. Keep the dialogue going.”

  “We certainly don’t want that, Booker. Can I call you Booker?”

  Gaines’s answer was decisive: more ear-shattering gunfire.

  Then silence.

  Guess that would be no.

  Ramos moved beside Vail and keyed the radio. “Boss, this guy ain’t comin’ out. And he may have hostages. We need to go in.”

  Hurdle, back at them over the two-way: “Give it a minute. Everyone hold your position.”

  At the sixty-second mark, Hurdle’s voice crackled over the speaker. Vail lowered the volume: “We have zero confirmation he’s got anyone in there. We’re gonna wait and let SWAT handle it. They’re making good time. Updated ETA, nine minutes.”

  “Let’s use the time to our advantage,” Vail said. “Rambo, you’re with me.”

  “With you where?”

  “We’re gonna do a quick canvass. Maybe a neighbor’s seen Marcks—or someone else—in there. We need to know if Gaines’s really got hostages. C’mon,” she said as she started a strategic retreat from the property. In truth, she wanted to take his mind off Gaines, let him cool down—and get him away from the house.

  As they made their way along the sidewalk, Vail glanced over her shoulder at the street behind them, checking for the lookout—if he was still there—who had honked a warning to Gaines when they arrived. She saw only two cars, and both appeared unoccupied.

  “Curtis,” she said into her radio. “Head over to those vehicles parked at the curb. I don’t think there’s anyone in them, but be careful.” She explained what she was looking for, and why.

  “I’ll ping you right back if I find anything.”

  Vail thanked him and continued on to the two-story to the east. No one answered, but at the residence to the west, an attorney who worked out of his home office—and who had to be persuaded to come to the door in view of the automatic gunfire—said he thought he had seen another man enter the residence.

  “When was this?” Vail asked.

  He glanced past Vail and Ramos nervously. “You sure it’s safe to stand here?”

  “The gunman’s inside the house,” Ramos said, “and we’ve got it surrounded. If you’d just answer the question, sir.”

  “A few days ago. Maybe Wednesday.”

  “How old was this guy?” Ramos asked.

  He shrugged both shoulders as he thought. “Twenty, at most. A teen, maybe. I’m not even 100 percent sure it was that house. I think it was.”

  “Any other activity?” Vail asked. “People going in or out, cars or trucks that don’t belong?”

  “I’ve been tied up with a case I’m litigating. I haven’t really paid that much attention.”

  “You know that your neighbor’s been out of town?” Ramos asked.

  “I only moved here five months ago. I haven’t had time to go door-to-door meeting people.” He made a show of checking his watch. “If you don’t mind, I’ve got a conference call in five minutes. Assuming the shooting doesn’t start up again.”

  For all our sakes, I hope that’s the case.

  “And do us a favor? Stay inside until we get the situation under control.”

  He gave a nervous laugh. “You don’t have to ask twice.”

  They thanked him and started back toward the house just as SWAT arrived. The armored Bearcat—it looked like a cross between a tank and a truck—pulled in front.

  Hurdle and Vail used the vehicle as a shield as they briefed the commander, whose uniform tag read “Morales.”

  “We did our best to put together a breach plan on the way using Google Earth images and what we could pull up on county records for the house’s blueprints. What can you give us on the occupant?”

  “Suspect’s a squatter,” Vail said. “Owners have been out of town for several months.”
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  “Far as we know,” Hurdle said, “there’s no one else inside.”

  “Check that.” Ramos waved a thumb over his right shoulder. “Neighbor back there saw a young male enter a few days ago.”

  “He thinks he saw,” Vail said.

  “So there could be two occupants,” Morales said. “A hostage?”

  “Potentially. Suspect said he had people in there and was going to kill them. But it could’ve just been bullshit to keep us from going in.”

  Morales absorbed that, then said, “What do we know about your guy?”

  “Buster Gaines,” Vail said. “He’s got a sheet, in and out of trouble with the law. Domestic violence, drugs, assaults. Nothing over the top. His buddy’s the fugitive serial killer Roscoe Lee Marcks, so it’s possible Marcks is also inside.”

  An officer emerged from the SWAT vehicle with a K-9, who was outfitted in a black tactical vest, leading the way.

  “That’s Rex,” Morales said. “Belgian Malinois.”

  “SEAL Team Six used one of those on the bin Laden raid,” Hurdle said as he and Curtis joined them behind the Bearcat.

  “Affirmative.” Morales glanced around at the cul-de-sac. “Other than that one neighbor you talked with, have you done a canvass?”

  “Only had time to hit a couple houses,” Vail said. “The rest of us were holding our positions, all entrances and exits.”

  “You guys going to breach?” Curtis asked. “Or are we looking at a barricade?”

  Morales chewed his bottom lip. “You think he’s a talker? A negotiator?”

  Ramos laughed. “No sir. Definitely not.”

  “Tried that,” Vail said. “He answered with a burst of automatic rounds.”

  “Okay. He may have a young male in there, he’s shown extremely violent tendencies, and he’s volatile. I think we’ve got exigency. Better to assume that’s the case than do a time/talk/tactics approach and have a hostage get killed.”

  “Time, talk, tactics?” Curtis asked.

  “Methodical approach. We try to negotiate by phone, bullhorn, throw phones, anything that’ll get him to communicate with us. If that doesn’t work, we shift to annoyance tactics. Breaching windows, shutting off utilities, deploying flash bangs to get his attention and eventually tear gas to try and drive him out. We might even get a robot in there to get eyes on or send Rex in. All else fails, our team goes in. Very time-consuming. Could be an all-day—or more—affair.”

  “We’ve got Marcks out there,” Hurdle said. “We can’t afford to dick around with this guy.”

  “I’ve got other considerations,” Morales said. “But I understand the pressure you’re under.” He gave the structure a once-over. “Gaines’s not the homeowner, so I doubt he has authority to deny us access. We’re going in. I’ll deal with the consequences. If there are any.” He then turned and conferred with his mission leader, a younger man with a crew cut. Morales brought the radio to his lips and issued orders to the other ten officers, who had already taken up their positions.

  “Can we follow you in?” Ramos asked.

  Morales gave Ramos a look that bled disbelief. “No.”

  Hurdle checked his watch. “How long?”

  “I know you guys want to get in there ASAP. We’ll do our best. But you gotta understand, it’s a slow, systematic process.”

  As Morales moved off, Ramos frowned and said something to Hurdle. Vail did not hear it but she picked up Hurdle’s response. “It was the right call, Rambo. If we knew for sure there’s a hostage in there? We would’ve gone in. But he’s got a semiauto and we had no good reason to enter.”

  “Seven of us and one of him,” Rambo said. “That’s all I’m saying. We could’ve handled this.”

  “I can do the math. Let it go.” Hurdle kept his focus on the SWAT team as it deployed. “Take a breath. And stay on your toes.”

  Vail watched as Morales did a knock and notice—he banged on the door, announced who they were and that they were going to enter. Almost immediately, an officer released a couple of flash bangs on either end of the house. The mini-explosions were concussive, designed to induce fear and overwhelm the occupant—lead him to believe that an army was about to storm the place.

  And that was not far from the truth, because in the next instant a breach specialist swung his battering ram and blasted the front door in. They tossed in a gas canister and entered.

  A few minutes later, Curtis came up alongside Vail. “I don’t hear anything.”

  “You won’t. They’re looking for a barricaded suspect, so they’re not gonna be shouting to one another as they clear rooms like we do. Everything’s done with low whispers and hand signals. That way they can also pick up any movement from the suspect—or hostage. Sometimes when they enter a room, they cover the angles and hold for several minutes in silence. Listening for movement.”

  Curtis eyed her. “How do you know so much about it?”

  I’m part of a black ops team. “Read an article.”

  She checked her watch and waited. It was going to be awhile before they could get their hands on Gaines.

  RAMOS, CURTIS, AND VAIL entered first, followed by Hurdle, Walters, Morrison, and Tarkoff. Hundreds of brass shell casings littered the granite floor and the smell of munitions hung in the air.

  “Where’s our suspect?” Hurdle asked.

  Morales shifted his MP5 to the left, across his shoulder. “No one was in the house.”

  “No one—” Vail swung her gaze around the main floor. “We had the entrances and exits covered. How the hell did he get out?”

  “Follow me.”

  Morales led Vail, Curtis, and Hurdle down to a finished basement, a large open room with sports loungers and a sixty-inch LED television with surround speakers mounted on the ceiling and walls.

  “Got his assault rifle, though.”

  “He left it behind?” Curtis asked.

  “Found it down here,” Morales said as his tactical boots gripped the tile floor. “When we breached the door, he needed to get out fast. As soon as you see what I’m about to show you, you’ll understand.”

  They moved left past a pool table and stopped at a closed door. Morales pushed it open and they filed in.

  “Laundry,” Hurdle said.

  What gave it away? Washing machine? Or the dryer? Vail walked in farther and examined the long and narrow area, which seemed to run at least half the length of the house. Above her were two windows. One of them was unlocked. “You saying he went out through here? We had guys on both sides of the exterior.”

  “First clue was that we found the rifle right where you’re standing. Second clue was—well, take a look.”

  She climbed up onto the washing machine and peered into the yard. Stands of pine, hemlock, cedar, and cypress stared back at her, a melting layer of snow blanketing its floor. It’s like a friggin’ forest back here. “What am I missing?”

  “Over here.” Morales moved several feet deeper into the room. “I think the unlocked window was a ruse. Or it could’ve been accidently left like this by the homeowner and Gaines had nothing to do with it.” He pulled open a cabinet door and gestured them over. “I was referring to this. Rex sniffed it out.”

  Vail jumped down off the appliance, turned on her phone’s flashlight, and peered in. “Gaines made a tunnel? Are you kidding me?”

  “Wish I were. I’ve only seen this twice before, in all my years with SWAT.”

  Vail stuck her head in. “Where does it lead?”

  “Go in, take a look.”

  Vail snorted as she drew back. “Uh, no thanks. I don’t get along well with tight spaces.” And this is one time when I can say no.

  “I’ll go,” Curtis said as he turned on his iPhone light and climbed in. “I’ve gotta see this.”

  He got in about five feet before he backed out. “Okay, I’
ve seen enough. Nothing elaborate, barely enough room to fit a body. Tell ya, if I wasn’t claustrophobic before, this could definitely make me catch it.”

  “It’s not a contagious disease,” Vail said.

  “Whatever. I’m not going all the way through.”

  “No need,” Morales said. “One of our guys took off all his gear and went in. There are some wood planks to shore up the walls. Comes out just past the property line, twelve feet northwest, in the dense trees.”

  “That’s why he didn’t take the rifle with him. Hard enough to get a body through.” Hurdle crouched down and took a look for himself. “He really built a tunnel?”

  “He’s been here for—who knows. Several months?” Curtis said, dusting off his hands. “Maybe he got bored.”

  Hurdle shook his head. “Think like a criminal, Curtis. He must’ve known Marcks’s escape plans and he dug the tunnel because Marcks was planning to spend some time here. We come knocking, he’d have an escape route.”

  “Probably took him … what, a few days? A week? To clear twelve feet of dirt?” Curtis said. “But he’d need help, someone to haul off the buckets of soil as he went.”

  “Could’ve been Scott MacFarlane,” Vail said.

  Morales turned and headed out of the laundry room. “Bottom line, your guy—or guys—are gone.”

  I can do the math as well as Rambo. Seven against one, or two, and we still lost. “So no hostages.”

  “Doubt it,” Morales said. “But with the tunnel, hard to know. Forensics may help you on that one. Meantime, we’re casting a wide net, see if we can prevent Gaines from leaving the area. I’ve got more men on the way. They’ll be here in five or six minutes. Police are mobilized, too. But I’m not hopeful. Acres of densely wooded land, lots of residences, a park.”

  Vail looked out the windows and saw the boots and legs of SWAT officers searching the woods. “A school. I saw one nearby. On the aerial view. They need to go into lockdown.”

  Morales stopped and pulled his two-way and chattered into it, passing on Vail’s suggestion.

  She heard someone descending the basement steps and saw Ramos approaching, followed by Tarkoff and Morrison.

  As Curtis filled them in, Vail turned to Hurdle. “We blew this about as badly as it could be blown.”