Terrorist Attack Under Capitol Hill: Murder And Mayhem In D.C. (Todd Boling Series Book 1)

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Terrorist Attack Under Capitol Hill: Murder And Mayhem In D.C. (Todd Boling Series Book 1) Page 9

by R. A. Lamb


  “They’ve been able to go anywhere they want so far. With knowledge and some forged credentials, yes I think they could.”

  Our next step was a trip back to the mall to buy a few things. I picked up a SLR digital camera with a zoom lens, a tape recorder and camera bag. Kathy bought a navy pant suit and shoes to match. Then we went to an office supply store and a stationary store who printed out some sample business cards on their color laser printer. After all, a news reporter and her photographer had to look the part.

  Kat changed at the motel then we headed for Fairfax, Virginia and the Black Dragon Fireworks Company. Just to be sure we practiced on the way what we were going to say. The address was in an industrial park with several one and two story office buildings and metal warehouses. Black Dragon’s offices were at the end of a long one story warehouse.

  Inside the small lobby a dish-water blond in her late twenties sat behind the reception desk and asked what we wanted.

  “I’m Kathy Clark, reporter for the Georgetown Weekly,” Kat handed the receptionist her card; “We are doing a feature called DC’s Fireworks on the Fourth and would like to interview the Manager of Operations.

  TJ get some pictures of Miss ah…”

  “I’m Miss Grayson, Tiffany Grayson,” and the receptionist flashed a broad smile.

  “Right. TJ get some shots of Miss Grayson. She’ll be perfect in our piece.”

  Miss Grayson struck a pose as I fumbled with the camera bag and focused the camera.

  Kat continued, “Is there someone who might show us around and answer some questions?”

  “That would be Mr. Chanley, our manager. I’ll call him. Just a moment.”

  I snapped another picture as Miss Grayson dialed. A couple of minutes later a portly man in his forties dressed in dark slacks and a white dress shirt, unbuttoned at the neck introduced himself as Lester Chanley and led us by a big No Smoking sign to his office.

  Kat described what we were doing and flashed a smile of her own. She does look good in that blue pant suit, I thought.

  “We would like to tour your facility and also take some pictures when you setup at the Washington Monument. TJ get a picture of Mr. Chanley at his desk.”

  “Call me Lester. I’d be happy to show you around and I think we can arrange for you to visit us when we start wiring the display frames at the Monument. If you want to see our facilities you’ll have to wear these.”

  Lester Chanley handed us hard hats and plastic goggles. He led Kat into the warehouse through a door which said

  Caution Explosives

  Authorized Personnel Only

  I followed with the camera bag and camera slung around my neck. Mr. Chanley explained what was going on as we walked by several men in brown jump suits with the Black Dragon Logo on the backs. Several were sitting at workbenches attaching firework packages to metal frames.

  “It’s all done by computer these days,” boasted Mr. Chanley. “There’s weeks of planning and preassembly. That’s what these men are doing now. Then several days putting everything together and double checking the wiring. We pride ourselves on delivering the big bang precisely on schedule.”

  I snapped some pictures as we were led around and tried to get as many faces as I could. There were two men who tried to avoid getting photographed. They were working together on a large steel frame. One was white with brown hair tied into a ponytail which hung half way down his back. He wore black rimmed glasses and had a tattoo on his forearm. I couldn’t see what it was. The other had a swarthy complexion, maybe Pakistani or East Indian and shorter than the white guy. No visible tattoos but a scar on the back of his wrist. As Kat walked by she dropped her notebook and they looked around. That’s when I got their picture.

  Kathy and I stayed about an hour and wound up in front of Lester Chanley’s office.

  “Thank you Lester for a great tour.” Kat extended her hand. “I think I have all we need, that is, except for visiting the Washington Monument when you put everything together.”

  “You’re welcome Kathy, anything for the press. Give me a call when you plan to come and I’ll arrange for a badge which will get you behind the scenes. In fact, I may just bring it myself and show you around.”

  “I’ll look forward to it. We’ll need two badges, one for TJ.”

  “Ah.TJ, right. I’m looking forward to seeing you again Kathy.” Chanley finally let go of Kat’s hand.

  He escorted us to the front door. Tiffany Grayson flashed another big smile and gave one of those beauty-queen-from-the-float type waves.

  We made our way to the car. I looked around the parking lot; there were several cars, a few pickups with the Black Dragon logo painted on the door and a couple of motorcycles.

  Damn, could it be, I thought? The adrenalin started pumping. I swung the camera and snapped a couple of shots. It looked like the bike which picked me up at the Jefferson Memorial’s Tidal Basin, same color and same scrape on the fender. I knew it wasn’t Jamad riding it because he was dead but somebody was and that somebody worked for the Black Dragon Fireworks Company.

  Chapter 14

  “See that bike, Kat. I’ve seen it before. Jamad picked me up on it at the tidal basin and took me to that small boat which brought me to the houseboat where you were held.”

  “I wonder who’s riding it now, Todd?”

  “My thinking exactly. We’re going to find out.”

  About a block away I pulled into a parking garage. From there we had a view of the front of the Black Dragon building and more importantly the motorcycle in the parking area.

  Another stakeout. Somehow this time it was more exciting. This is our stakeout. Kat and I didn’t talk much, we just watched. After five o’clock the parking area began to empty. At five thirty three a man in a leather jacket carrying a helmet came out. He slipped it on and walked toward the cycle. I raised my camera, zoomed in and snapped a couple of shots as the man swung his leg over the seat and pushed back. I could easily make out the flame pattern on the helmet, the turned up collar on his jacket and the ponytail half way down his back.

  Kat and I hopped back in the car and got to the street as Ponytail paused at the stop sign at the corner.

  “Not too close,” whispered Kat.

  “I know but I don’t want to lose him.”

  The bike headed northeast on Old Lee Highway, exited at Merrifield and went north on Cedar Lane. We went under Interstate 66. Traffic was picking up. The motorcycle crossed Cottage Street just as the light turned and Kat and I had to stop.

  “Damn it.” I gripped the steering wheel. “We’ll lose him.”

  It was no use the cross traffic kept us where we were until the light changed. We drove ahead but there was no sign of Ponytail or the cycle.

  “We’ve lost him, Todd, may as well head back.”

  “You know, Kat, we might park here tomorrow. If this is his normal route we could pick him up again.”

  “That’s a good idea. We could get here earlier and get familiar with the neighborhood.”

  I turned the car and headed toward the motel.

  On the way we stopped by a Walmart and printed the pictures. I wanted to get a close up of the motorcycle. I printed a 5 by 7 of Kat holding hands with Lester Chanley.

  “For your scrapbook,” I grinned.

  She hit me in the arm.

  Back in our rooms we laid the prints on the bed and studied them one by one. The close up of the guy with the ponytail and his friend came out good.

  “Hank will be pissed but I think we need to run these by him.”

  Kat nodded. “He sure will and probably will want to put us in protective custody again.”

  “I don’t like that idea but there is a way around it.”

  The next day before noon we headed back toward the spot where we lost the cycle. On the way we made a brief stop at Madison Park on North Washington Street in Falls Church. The bench by the soccer field seemed like a great place to make a drop. I taped the package of pictures under
the seat. Then we continued toward Merrifield and Cedar Lake Road. We crossed the traffic light which stopped us yesterday and proceeded to explore the area. We passed homes, apartment buildings, schools and shopping centers. Pretty normal stuff, I thought. We back tracked and found a school parking lot with a clear view of Cedar Lake Road, pulled in and waited. Traffic was fairly heavy as we approached the time the cycle passed this point yesterday. I dialed Hank.

  “Holland.”

  “It’s Todd. We have some news.”

  “Where in the hell have you been and why didn’t you check in last night?”

  “To tell the truth we paid a visit to Black Dragon Fireworks.”

  “You what?”

  “We saw the motorcycle the terrorists used to pick me up at the Jefferson Memorial. I got a picture of it and the guy who’s riding it.”

  “Have you two gone nuts? I told you not to contact anyone and stay in hiding.”

  “We sort of did what you said --”

  “Like hell you did. Where are you now? I want to set up a meet and --”

  “Hang on Hank. Kat, I mean Kathy and I have decided to help you catch these guys before they do more damage. If you’ll listen a minute, we want to tell you what we’ve found out.”

  I could almost feel the steam coming through the phone.

  “I’m listening.”

  I told Hank about posing as reporters and our tour of the fireworks plant, who we met and what we saw. I told him about taking pictures and where we stashed them under the bench by the soccer field in Madison Park. I didn’t tell Hank about following the guy with the ponytail. I thought I would save that till later.

  “This is much too dangerous for amateurs,” Hank grumbled. “I want you to meet me at --”

  Kat was pointing at the street and the motorcycle approaching us. It was our guy with the ponytail.

  “Sorry Hank got to go. Call you later.” and I ended the call. The adrenalin was pumping again.

  I eased onto Cedar Lake Road and into traffic. There was a van and a couple of cars between us and the cycle.

  “Stay close and watch for him to turn,” I heard the excitement in Kat’s voice.

  We didn’t have long to wait. The cycle turned left on North Service Drive and immediately left again into an apartment building parking lot. I also turned left and then right into a shopping center.

  “I don’t see him. I don’t… Yes I do! Yes I do!” Kathy grabbed my arm and I almost hit an abandoned shopping cart.

  I pulled into a parking space. We could see the apartment buildings and the row of cars in front of them. There between a gold sedan and a white pickup was the cycle. Ponytail was nowhere in sight.

  “We’re close,” I whispered. I didn’t know why I whispered, except my throat felt tight and there was that pounding in my chest again.

  “Let’s stay here a while and see if the guy with the ponytail comes out,” Kat said.

  I nodded.

  We watched the apartments for several hours. The sun was sinking and the buildings cast long shadows on the parked cars. Street lights began to come on. I was about to suggest we call it a night when a man came out of the apartment next to the corner and walked toward a dark colored car near a street lamp. There was something about the way he walked. He bent down to unlock the car. The street light reflected off the maroon door. He got in and by the interior light I recognized the face.

  “My God, Kat. It’s the missing cop, Jamie Hendricks.”

  We watched as Hendricks backed out and pulled away.

  “Todd I think we’ve found the cell.”

  “You’re probably right. We should let Hank know. Except…”

  “Except? What’s going on now in that cowboy brain?”

  “Well, we don’t know if Suky is there and I want to make sure he’s caught.”

  “So what do you want to do? Knock on his door?”

  “No but I do have a plan.”

  There were only a few cars left in the shopping center parking lot. We would soon stand out like a sore thumb. I started the car and headed back toward Alexandra. On the way we stopped at an Italian restaurant called Mama Celloni’s. It was a little dark inside for me but nice. There were booths along one wall and maybe twelve tables covered with red checkered tablecloths. Each had a candle sticking in an empty wine bottle, the kind with a little basket on the bottom. Only three tables were occupied, two couples and a group of four men. We chose a booth and both sat on the same side so we could talk and no one could hear us. A waiter wearing a white apron came over, cleared away the extra place settings and lighted our candle.

  He handed us menus, “Welcome to Mama Celloni’s. May I get your drink order?”

  I’ll have a Miller Lite and she’ll have a glass of red wine. What is the house red?”

  “It’s a Chianti Toscana. Please pardon me but may I see some identification?”

  I felt my cheeks burn as I reached for my driver’s license. Kathy had that devilish grin and stared at her menu.

  “Thank you, I’ll bring your drinks right out.”

  When he returned we listened to the special, veal something or other. Kat ordered fettuccini Alfredo and I ordered my favorite, spaghetti and meatballs.

  “Okay Cowboy, how do you plan to round up these rustlers, form a posse?”

  I leaned toward her, as I did my leg touched hers. Kat didn’t pull away. I felt the warmth of her thigh against mine. Softly I said, “Very funny Kat. No, I plan to get a closer look at their apartment and…”

  The waiter was back with our salad and bread sticks. I leaned back and reached for the bread.

  I leaned over again, our legs still touching, “And talk with the apartment manager. He might know something about them.” I started to feel warm all over. “Before you ask, we’ll pretend to be looking for a place to lease.”

  Dinner arrived. Kat asked for another glass of wine. When the waiter brought it she shifted in her seat to accept the glass. As she took a sip I felt her leg press against mine again.

  Dinner was over way too soon and we drove back to our rooms.

  The next morning we checked out and headed back toward the apartments on North Service Drive. It was time to move and I figured we could find a motel closer to the cell’s location.

  Chapter 15

  The manager’s office was on the far side of the complex. A bell jingled as we entered and a female voice from the adjoining room said, “Be with you in a minute.”

  A woman in her early fifties, a tad overweight, wearing a blue plaid pant suit appeared carrying some papers. “Sorry to keep you waiting. I had to fax these to our home office.”

  She slipped the papers into an out box on her desk. I’m Alice Robbins, how can I help you?” She handed us her card. It read Mrs. Alice Robbins, Leasing Manager.

  “We are looking for an apartment and would like to see some units if you have any vacancies,” Kat said smiling.

  “We do.” Mrs. Robbins smiled at her and reached for a folder. “Here is a diagram of our complex. We have unfurnished apartments and furnished, which we call corporate units. The vacancies are marked with a sticker.”

  I spotted maybe six stickers. One was the corner unit next to the one we saw Jamie Hendricks come out. “What about this one,” I pointed.

  Kat gave me a startled look.

  “That’s a one bedroom, furnished, corner unit. I just had it cleaned yesterday. Would you like to see it?”

  “Ah sure,” Kat nodded.

  Mrs. Robbins picked up her keys and led the way. Kat whispered in my ear, “What if they see us?”

  “What’s that dear”, Mrs. Robbins asked?

  “Oh nothing important, we’d love to see the unit,” Kat replied.

  The door to the corner unit was on the side away from the apartment we saw Hendricks come out. That was a help.

  The apartment was surprisingly nice, the couch and overstuffed chair looked new. There was a flat screen TV, not big but okay and pictures of seascapes
on the wall. The appliances in the kitchen were fine and a dinette set with two chairs in the breakfast nook. She showed us to the bedroom and in the hall I noticed a framed-in rectangular area in the ceiling with a cord hanging down.

  “What’s that,” and I pointed?

  “Oh, it’s the pull down stairway to the attic, the hot water heater, furnace and such,” replied Mrs. Robbins. “You will never have to worry with that. Just call the office and we’ll be right over to fix anything that goes wrong.”

  “That sounds great. Wow look at that king size bed Kat,” and she nudged me in the ribs. The bedroom also had a nice bureau, side tables and lamps.

  “We furnish linens but maid service is extra if you want it.”

  “What does a place like this go for?”

  “Twelve hundred a month with a six month lease and a month’s deposit. Are you interested?”

  “Could we have a minute to discuss it?”

  Mrs. Robbins smiled at me and walked into the living room. I sat down on the bed and bounced a couple of times. “Pretty comfortable.”

  “Todd, are you crazy? You remember who is on the other side of that wall, don’t you?”

  “I know and besides, they won’t be looking for us here. We’ll be hiding in plain sight. Cool, huh?”

  Kat raised her head and stared at the ceiling. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. It is taking a huge risk, I thought. She turned her back and I waited. Slowly Kat turned and gave me that devilish grin, “Okay, Cowboy, but I get the bed; you get the couch.”

  We walked into the living room. “We’re interested,” I said, “but we need a place right away. How soon could we move in?”

  “This afternoon if you want. Let’s go back to the office. All we need is a signed lease agreement and the payment of course.”

  I had to think quickly, “Ah, Mrs. Robbins?”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Well my Uncle wired us some money and I haven’t had a chance to open a checking account yet. Would you accept cash?”

  She giggled, “Of course cash will be fine.”

 

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