“It’s not that bad,” she said.
“Picture trying to sleep seventeen people in his place. We’d use every square foot of the house just to lie down at night. About the only thing the camp has going for it at this point is abundant fresh water and a wood-burning stove. The neighbors will probably take the stove next.”
“That’s a real bummer,” she said, pausing. “The whole situation sucks.”
“If the border holds and we can find that militia nut before he stirs up trouble, we might not have to go anywhere.”
“And if we have to leave?”
“I have an idea, but we have a limited window of opportunity before it becomes too risky,” said Alex.
“How limited?”
“Early November at the latest.”
“Does it have something to do with the nautical charts that appeared yesterday?”
His ROTAC handheld unit chirped, indicating a connection. He read the display. “Patriot Five Alpha.” Direct communication from Harrison Campbell. This couldn’t be good.
“Hold on, honey,” he said, putting the phone to his ear. “Captain Fletcher.”
“It’s Harrison. We have a problem.”
Harrison sounded out of breath, and Alex thought he heard a car door shut in the background.
“What’s going on? You sound like you’re in a car.”
“I am in a car. Greg Hoode has been murdered and—”
“The mayor?”
“Yes. One of my guys down at the storefront went for a smoke. Found the mayor strung up on the statue of Thomas Goodall. Mutilated. They spray painted ‘FEDERAL SPY’ on the statue’s base. I’m headed right over.”
“Right across the street from the recruiting station? Fuck. This has to be Eli’s handiwork,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment. “Has anyone contacted the police?”
“I was going to swing by the hospital on the way downtown.”
“Negative. The police will treat this like a crime scene. We need to get the body down before anyone sees it.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Alex. We should let the police take care of it,” said Harrison.
“We can’t afford that kind of publicity. Eli did this for a reason.”
“We don’t know it was Eli. Greg had plenty of enemies in town.”
“I can’t take that chance, and neither can you, for obvious reasons. Remember the gray hatchback that passed in front of the coffee shop when we were talking with the mayor?”
“Two men. Nothing unusual.”
“Nothing unusual except the license plate is registered to a F-150 pickup truck in Alfred. We found a pile of Maine license plates at the church outside of Milton Mills. My guess is they’re stealing plates from disabled cars and slapping them on the fleet of vehicles they acquired from their little Milton Mills scam.”
“Sounds a little thin,” said Harrison.
“Why would anyone hang him in the middle of Sanford with the words ‘federal spy’ spray painted? Eli is sending the town a clear message to stay away from us. We can’t afford to have problems filling the provisional security team.”
“I’m not touching the body, Alex. Not without one of your staff NCOs on the scene,” said Harrison.
“I’m sending a vehicle from the airport. ETA ten minutes. I’ll be there in thirty. We have about an hour and a half to clean this up. Thank God nobody’s camping out in the park.”
“We can’t keep this a secret forever.”
Kate tapped his shoulder.
“What?” he whispered.
“Did the mayor have a family?” she asked.
“Jesus. Harrison, can you muster a team to visit the mayor’s house?”
“Alex, I’m not tampering with evid—ah, shit. We’re on our way.”
“Be careful, Harrison. I’ll call you from the road,” Alex said, lowering the radio.
“I have to go.”
Kate kissed him. “Does he have family?”
“Sounded like it. Harrison is headed straight there,” he said, grabbing the thermal scope and his rifle.
“You should put on your uniform in case the police show up,” she said.
“Right,” he mumbled, his thoughts drifting.
Chapter 19
EVENT +10 Days
Sanford, Maine
They drove to Sanford using night vision, standard operating procedure for an unsecured transit lane. Alex couldn’t discount the possibility that this was some kind of elaborate trick to lure them into town, and there was no reason to advertise their arrival with headlights. The Matvee’s armor was impervious to small-arms fire and interior damage from basic explosive devices, but the vehicle could be disabled or flipped under the wrong circumstances. Travelling in a convoy, this presented little more than a nuisance. The other vehicles could extract or protect the shaken crew until a “wrecker” was summoned to remove the vehicle. Driving alone, a disabled vehicle spelled disaster. A few well-placed Molotov cocktails could force them out of the armored shell long before help arrived.
Entering the intersection next to the park from the west, Lianez pulled the Matvee across the road and stopped in the opposite lane. Two men dressed in camouflage walked across the road twenty feet in front of them, headed to the York County Readiness Brigade station on the other side of the street.
“I assume those are friendlies?” said Jackson over the vehicle’s internal communications net.
“Roger. Looks like brigade militia.”
“Where do you want us, sir?” asked Corporal Lianez.
“Right next to Guardian One-Zero.”
The dark shape of Staff Sergeant Taylor’s Matvee loomed south of the statue. Bright green, shaky lights at the base of the statue obscured the three figures scrubbing away at the blood and spray paint. Taylor set them to work as soon as the mayor’s corpse had been placed in the back of the tactical vehicle. With any luck, the statue would look the same at sunrise, and no one would be the wiser about the mayor’s brutal fate. Unless Eli had left a few more displays around town. The mayor’s wife and twelve-year-old daughter were missing. Once the park was tidied up, they’d search the rest of Sanford’s more commonly used public areas for their bodies.
Lianez drove over the curb and maneuvered them between two trees to arrive next to the other tactical vehicle. Alex flipped up the night-vision goggles attached to his helmet and stepped into the humid morning air, letting his eyes adjust for a moment before meeting Taylor next to the statue.
“What’s up with the York County guys?” said Alex, nodding toward the men disappearing into the storefront across Main Street.
“We just got word on the police scanner that two cruisers are heading over from the hospital. ETA any time now. Figured the militia presence might complicate things.”
“Good thinking. I should wave off the rest of them. Any idea why they’re headed this way—beside the obvious?”
“They were dispatched on a ten-fifty-four. We’re pretty sure that means dead body.”
“They won’t be happy to find us here. Especially with their mayor in a body bag,” he said. “How long until we’re done here?”
“Ten minutes, tops.”
“I guess there’s no way to avoid them. Should be fun,” said Alex, noticing a set of headlights approaching from the east. “Close up the rear hatch so they don’t see the body bag.”
“Got it, sir.”
Alex activated his handheld radio. “Harrison, is that you approaching from the east along Main?”
“Roger. We’re passing the auto parts store. What’s the situation down there? My guys said the Marines sent them back inside.”
“Looks like we’re about to have some company from the Sanford Police Department. Somehow, they know about the body.”
“You still want me down there?”
“I’m thinking you should turn it around and head back home. Relations with local law enforcement are likely to sour over this. There’s no point in dragging yo
u along for that ride. I’ll update you when we’re finished.”
“Good luck. Buzz Gifford is the line sergeant on duty tonight. He’s a ball-breaker,” said Harrison, disconnecting the call.
“Great,” Alex grunted, catching the flash of a blue strobe light between the old mill buildings to the north.
“Staff Sergeant, put your gunner back in the turret. Keep the other two working on the statue,” he said.
“Ooh-rah, sir,” said Taylor, dashing over to the statue.
“Lianez, pull your vehicle around the other side of the statue. Jackson, make yourself visible up top, but keep the two-forty pointed away from the officers.”
The police cars sped down Washington Street, their blue strobes illuminating the façades of the tall buildings and marking their progress toward the park. Alex had no idea if any level of coordination had been initiated between the Regional Recovery Zone governing body and the local police department. Judging by the limited interaction reported by the late mayor and the frosty reception by state troopers at the Milton Mills site, he highly doubted it. From what he could tell, the sprawling RRZ bureaucracy hadn’t arrived, which was surprising given the large number of soldiers that had recently descended on southern Maine.
The airport was nearly unrecognizable at this point, with dozens of UH-60 Black Hawk and CH-47 Chinook helicopters ferrying soldiers to points along the border. Transport vehicles poured through the area at the same time, depositing combat support and headquarter elements of 10th Mountain Division’s 4th Brigade Combat Team at the airport. The rest of the 4th BCT was scheduled to arrive over the course of the next three days, along with the Marines.
Two police cruisers screeched through the turn off Washington Street, skidding to a halt on the north side of the park. The officers hit the pavement yelling, as Corporal Lianez backed the Matvee into place on the other side of the statue, temporarily blocking the verbal onslaught.
“They don’t sound happy to see us, sir,” said Taylor.
“You think?” Alex said, patting the staff sergeant’s shoulder. “Stay right behind your Marines. Keep them working on the statue, no matter how heated this gets.”
“Copy that, sir.”
“Lianez, I want you out of the vehicle, next to me. Hands off your rifle,” he said into his radio mic, placing himself between the onrush and the statue.
“On my way, sir.”
Four police officers swarmed past the back of the vehicle, broadcasting a confused slew of commands and threats while shining their lights on the scene. One of the officers slid by Alex and was blocked by Lianez.
“Get away from the statue! Right now!” he bellowed, trying to sidestep the marine. “Out of my way, son!”
Lianez stood his ground, relenting when the officer pushed him aside. Staff Sergeant Taylor was next in line, presenting a formidable obstacle at six-foot-two, 240 pounds. Alex pointed at the next police officer that rushed forward.
“Stop right there!” he said, his words having the desired effect.
The police sergeant squared off in front of Taylor, took a few steps back, and turned to Alex.
“You do not order my officers around. This is my crime scene, and you will withdraw. Where’s the mayor?” he said.
“I think we need to throttle this back a bit, Sergeant.”
“I’m not throttling shit back until your soldiers stop tampering with my crime scene,” he said, directing his light at the Marines scrubbing the statue.
“They’re Marines, and I need you to step back before we continue,” said Alex.
“I don’t give a shit what they are. What did you do with the mayor’s body?”
“What makes you think he’s dead?” said Alex.
“Don’t fuck with me on this. Greg Hoode was a good friend of mine. His wife and daughter are at the hospital in hysterics. I don’t give a shit who you are or what your orders tell you, but I’m not backing down from this. Where—is—the mayor?”
“I’m sorry about Mr. Hoode,” said Alex. “We took him down from the statue.”
“Jesus! Why the hell did you do that? Your men need to stop cleaning the statue!” he hissed.
“Greg Hoode’s throat was cut from ear to ear, both of which are missing. Eyes gouged out. Fingers missing. Castrated. Disemboweled. Not the kind of scene you want in the center of Sanford when the sun rises.”
“That wasn’t your call to make,” said the police sergeant.
“Yes, it was. This is a Homeland Security matter. I’ll turn over the body, but we’re scrubbing the scene clean,” said Alex.
“Homeland Security? That’s a bunch of bullshit,” he uttered. “Trust me, you don’t want the trouble I can rain down on your ass. Get your men out of here immediately, before this gets ugly.”
“How long until we’re done, Staff Sergeant?” said Alex.
“About five minutes, sir.”
“We’ll be out of here in five minutes. I’ll deliver the body wherever you want.”
“I’m done with this. Help me get them off the statue!” said the police sergeant, trying unsuccessfully to push past Staff Sergeant Taylor.
The rest of his officers started to rush toward Alex and Lianez.
“Touch one of my Marines again, and I’ll arrest all of you,” said Alex, stopping the officers.
“You don’t have the authority,” said the police sergeant, jamming a finger in Alex’s chest.
Alex needed to deescalate the situation. Alienating the Sanford Police Department would prove to be counterproductive once the battalion’s security mission kicked into full gear. With more than forty officers on their roster, the Sanford PD could play a significant peacekeeping and intelligence-gathering role within the immediate vicinity of the RRZ Forward Operating Base. On the flip side, a lack of cooperation by the police might foster passive resistance and heighten unrest. In his experience, nothing was gained by pissing off local law enforcement—in any situation.
“I think we’re getting off on the wrong foot here. Normally, we wouldn’t interfere in your work, but the mayor’s murder is more complicated than you might suspect. If you cut me a little slack here, I’ll fill you in on the details.”
“What else do you know?” said the sergeant, nodding at his officer to stand down.
“I’m pretty sure this wasn’t a locally motivated killing. I think a man named Eli Russell may have ordered it. Does that name mean anything to you?”
“Unfortunately. You think this is militia related? Is that why Homeland is staking a claim?”
“My information strongly suggests the possibility,” said Alex. “Very strongly.”
“Sergeant Gifford,” he said, extending a hand. “This doesn’t mean we’re friends.”
“Harrison Campbell warned me about you,” said Alex, accepting his handshake.
“Harrison’s a good guy,” said Sergeant Gifford. “He could probably help you with Eli.”
“We’re working together on a few things. Finding Russell is one of them.”
“We could throw together the Special Response Team and pay him a visit at his house in Waterboro. Straighten this out immediately,” said Gifford.
“I highly doubt you’ll find him there. This is the first possible sniff we’ve had of him in six days. He’s gone into hiding with his militia.”
“You’re not exactly helping efforts to find him.”
“Aside from blood and entrails, which won’t tell us more than we already know,” said Alex, “the only thing they’re washing away is a spray-paint tag.”
“Possible gang murder? That’s not out of the realm in Sanford. Lots of crystal meth gets cooked up around here.”
“I don’t think so. The tag read ‘FEDERAL SPY.’ Displaying the mayor’s mutilated body in public is Eli’s way of scaring the people away from any association with the government or Harrison’s militia. I’m not going to bullshit you, Sergeant. We’re recruiting local citizens to form a provisional company in support of 1st Battalion, 2
5th Marine Regiment’s security mission. I can’t afford any negative PR at this point.”
“Was the mayor working with you guys? Our chief got the impression that he had been cut out of the loop.”
“Greg Hoode sat down with us at the coffee shop for about ten minutes. We agreed to informally keep each other appraised of any big happenings. It was enough to get him killed.”
“Greg was a career politician type, but he took care of the town. One of the good guys, for sure.”
“That’s the impression I got. At least his family is safe. Small consolation, but at least it’s something. How did they manage to escape? Eli doesn’t strike me as the merciful type.”
“It’s weird. Marcia Hoode said they were set free by one of Eli’s people—after a shootout of sorts. She was bound and gagged with her daughter in the back of the SUV when it all started. They picked someone up out in Limerick, and all hell broke loose.”
“Limerick? Did she say where or what time?” said Alex, looking at Lianez.
“She’s pretty dazed. They drove around for a few hours, hiding out in several places before approaching the hospital.”
“But she’s sure it was Limerick?”
“Pretty sure. They drove on a bunch of unfamiliar back roads right after the shooting. Ended up heading south on 160—took them right through Limerick.”
“Shit. I live out on Gelder Pond—a few miles off 160. We heard some gunfire around 2:30 in the morning. Did you call this in to the state police?”
“Not yet.”
“Care to take a ride with me out to Limerick?” said Alex.
“That’s out of my jurisdiction, but if it relates to the murder here, I—”
“Consider it a peace offering. I’ll trade you one crime scene for another. I had to get the mayor’s body down,” said Alex.
“Let me bring our chief up to speed and try to arrange another shift supervisor. We’re stretched pretty thin right now—running extra details to guard the regional communications center.”
“Is that normal?”
“Not really. The whole state got put on alert the other day. Someone knocked out the communications tower at the Cumberland County center.”
Point of Crisis (The Perseid Collapse Post Apocalyptic Series) Page 17