Murder Mystery McKenzie (Frank McKenzie complete collection so far)

by Luis Samways

  The heavy fire exit door glistens in the artificial light coming from the warm industrial light tubes on the walls.

  He is dressed in a business suit, not uncommon for such a distinguished building. He must look the part for what he is about to do. In a sea of suits, it would take ages for them to find the person responsible. A guy casually dressed in such an establishment would be quickly found.

  He opens the large metal door inward. Strong winds brace his suit against him. The swift breeze flows up his sleeves and ankles. He walks onto the rooftop and sees a view of Washington that surprises him. The picturesque skyline is surprisingly comforting. He closes the door behind him, casually takes in his surroundings. Metal grates and bellowing AC units occupy the roof styled to look antique. He contemplates whether he will see a gargoyle.

  He finds the spot designated and crouches. He produces a small pair of binoculars from one of his pockets and scans the horizon. Pennsylvania Avenue below him is littered with the Press. The police are cordoning off a parking spot in front of the hotel. He leans against the ledge and looks down toward the ground. It appears minute.

  Leaning back in from the granite ledge, he turns around and sits. His actions seem rehearsed and covert. He flicks the code needed to unlock the briefcase and looms over it once it opens. He tingles with excitement as he unpacks the contents. He carefully unfolds a black silk cloth on the ground. He reaches into the case again and starts pulling out bits of metal and wood. He clicks the pieces together and a rifle takes shape. He attaches a barrel and then calmly screws on the suppressor. The soft silk pouch he pulls from the briefcase becomes an 18x Zoom scope. He attaches it to the fully formed rifle and places the constructed rifle on the black cloth. His last piece of equipment is a tripod, which he fixes to the ground. He stands up and walks over to the ledge and looks again through his binoculars. He shakes the tripod to see if it’s sturdy. That confirmed, he pulls a balaclava from a suit pocket and puts it on. He takes off his suit jacket and puts on an army shirt and places the suit jacket on the silk cloth. He picks up the heavy rifle and manoeuvres to the tripod to click the rifle into place.

  Kneeling in front, he lines the scope up and looks through it. He scans the ground, marks a couple of random people in his sights and pulls a PDA from his trouser pocket. He clicks the touch screen buttons and hits an application. When the loading bar hits one hundred, he places the PDA on the ground by the rifle. He places a small ear piece in his ear and clicks “SYNC” on the device. He breaths in deeply and takes aim again. He scans the horizon and sees nothing. The earpiece clicks.

  ‘ETA on the President, thirty minutes,’ a voice says in his ear.

  Seventy

  Mike approaches Sandra Austin at the vending machine. ‘Have you spoken to Bob yet?’

  She takes a long sip from the warm cup.

  ‘Since the last time you asked me, Mike, the answer is still no. I haven’t spoken to him.’

  Mike shakes his head in frustration. ‘Well to be honest, Sandra, I don’t like sitting on my ass all day at a Goddamn train station waiting for something to supposedly happen when one of the biggest newsworthy events of my lifetime is happening right now. And I’m not there to film it!’

  Sandra throws Mike a mocking look. ‘Do you expect them to let you into M.I.T to film Connor Chase and his men up close, Mike?’

  ‘Not exactly. But I want to be in the vicinity when they send in the SWAT team.’

  ‘Don’t you think that might warn Chase about their plans to infiltrate?’

  Mike shrugs and reaches into his coat pocket to pull out a cigar. He lights it and blows smoke into Sandra’s face.

  She shoos the smoke away with her hand and grimaces at Mike before throwing him the bird. He laughs and walks away.

  ‘Asshole,’ she mutters.

  Seventy One

  Three security officers stand at the door when Eddie walks into the interrogation room. He signals them to go, relieving them of their duties. Eddie shuts the door firmly behind them and turns to Frank, who sits at the table watching Eddie.

  He walks to the table, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he takes a seat. He and Frank make eye contact. Frank smiles and relaxes.

  Eddie shakes his head as he lights a cigarette.

  ‘I think it’s obvious, don’t you?’

  ‘Not exactly Eddie. Enlighten me.’

  ‘I’ll give you one clue’

  Frank is shackled with handcuffs around his wrists. Eddie gets up and slowly makes his way around the interrogation table. He grabs Frank’s head and slams it hard into the metal table.

  Frank grunts in pain.

  Eddie walks back to his seat and sits down. The three security guards rush in, guns drawn.

  ‘Is everything okay, Sir?’ one asks.

  Eddie nods. The guard sees Frank’s bleeding nose and smiles. They walk out and slam the door.

  ‘I’ll let you have that one for free, Eddie.’ Frank wipes the blood off his nose.

  ‘This isn’t about me ‘getting one for free’, Frank. It’s about me trusting you. I put in a good word to get you back on the force. Then what do you do? You go and break the chief of police’s nose. Then to make matters worse, you are suspected of being in a damn fire fight with the secret service.’

  ‘What do you mean the secret service?’ asks Frank

  ‘Don’t play stupid, Frank. Did you not go see Jacob Reach in downtown Boston earlier today?’

  Frank shakes his head and wipes at his face once again. ‘I did not. And even if I did, I wouldn’t be fighting the damn secret service.’

  Eddie stubs out his cigarette on the metal table and stands up.

  ‘So all this chatter about you being involved in a shootout downtown is bullshit? And the fact that I found you in a warehouse not too far away from the alleged shooting is pure coincidence?’

  ‘You’re Goddamn right, it’s a coincidence. Ever since I came back all I’ve been hearing is how I’m in it for me and not one of the team. Truth is my own team sold me out. So you tell me, Mr DA, who should I trust? The Goddamn department? The people who seem to have a raging hard-on over me and my business? Or a guy who has done nothing but his job; a guy with nothing but dedication and balls. I admit I am not perfect. Truth is, Eddie, I’m the cop I need to be, the cop Boston needs me to be. Nothing else. If they don’t like it, then they can kiss my ass. Quite frankly, if you’re going to arrest me, do it now. If not, then un-cuff me. I have an ass hole to arrest.’

  Eddie walks over and unlocks Frank’s cuffs. ‘Look Frank, all I want from you is the decency not to make me look like an idiot. You do what you have to do, then make sure that it doesn’t come back to haunt me. I know sometimes rules have to be broken. But don’t go out and cause havoc. You are representing the City of Boston and law enforcement. Don’t you forget that.’

  Frank gets up from his seat and nods. ‘Is Shaw okay?’ he asks.

  Eddie laughs. ‘Yeah he’s alright. His nose isn’t really broken, just his pride.’

  ‘Well the asshole deserved it. All he does is bark orders. He should keep his fat mouth shut when it comes to me and my life.’

  Eddie pats Frank on his tatty shoulder. ‘Frank, you need some hot food and a shower. A change of clothes and a belly full of food will do you good. Beats no food and half a bottle of Jack.’

  ‘I hear you.’ Frank walks towards the door.

  ‘One more thing. Keep away from Shaw.’ Eddie adds. ‘He wants blood. The guy wants your career, Frank.’

  ‘As far as I’m concerned he can have the damn thing. Less problems for me to deal with.’

  ‘Just be prepared. After this shit storm is over, he’s coming for you. I’ll put in a good word with the FBI or some other agency and get you transferred out of this crappy place.’

  Seventy Two

  Jason paces the train, his eyes never leaving the hostages. He watches their every move.

  He processes each of their faces. He leans against the large window a
nd peers outside. He stares long and hard at the fast moving landscape. The hostages quietly watch his every move too.

  Shaken and distraught, most dare not look at each other for the fear that Jason will think they are conspiring. The mangled corpse a few feet away reminds everyone enough of the danger.

  One man watches Jason with calculating intent. The man has dirty, long brown hair speckled with grease and grey. He wears a black hoodie. His blue washed denim jeans are typical and he’s a man you wouldn’t notice in a hurry.

  The man staring at him is tall and slender. The herd of hostages don’t notice the tall hooded man. No one notices him except the pregnant woman sitting next to him.

  She turns her head and addresses the hooded man.

  ‘I wouldn’t stare at him like that,’ she cautions. The dark pregnant woman’s deep brown eyes plead with the man. He interrupts his intense surveillance and smiles at her with his eyes. ‘I’m not staring.’ ‘You could have fooled me,’ she says softly.

  ‘Trust me. I’m planning. There’s only one of him. It’s going to take a lot more than an AK47 to stop me.’

  The woman shakes her head in fear, begging him with her eyes not to be a hero. Her heart hopes otherwise.

  Seventy Three

  Officer Mullins leans against the wall next to Chief Shaw’s office door. He stares at the name engraved on the foggy glass. He knocks with two swift heavy thumps.

  A muffled voice acknowledges the knock and Mullins opens the door. A bruised Chief Shaw holds a tissue to his bloodied nose. He nods at Mullins and points towards the seat facing his desk.

  Mullins accepts the invitation. Shaw plods along the width of the room and pours himself a drink. Mullins shakes his head, declining Shaw’s offer of whisky.

  Shaw returns to his desk, sighing deeply.

  ‘What happened?’ Mullins asks.

  Shaw takes a sip from his tall glass and removes the bloody tissue from his nose.

  ‘We found Frank.’

  ‘I gathered that. That’s why I’m here instead of leading my convoy. I meant, what happened to you sir?’

  ‘We found Frank. That’s what happened.’

  ‘Frank did that?’

  ‘Yes. That’s beside the point though. I need you and your men as an extraction team to work with Frank. You will follow him into the M.I.T building and rescue the hostages. Any resistance, you meet with lethal action. You use whatever means are necessary to secure the safety of every hostage in that building.’

  ‘So we’re a go on this? Washington agrees?’

  ‘Not exactly, I’m working on that. I have a conference call with the Secretary of Defence in a few minutes. I’ll run the plan through with him but I need you ready with your team. We’ll execute it immediately.’

  ‘Understood, Sir.’

  ‘Meet Frank down in the parking lot. They’re setting up another convoy there.’

  ‘Okay.’ Mullins rises from his chair and walks towards the door. He stops dead and faces Shaw again. ‘So you told him about his brother?’

  Shaw pours himself another drink from the bottle on his desk. ‘I did not. The guy’s a loose cannon. He did this to my face for fun. Imagine what he will do if I tell him his brother bit the bullet. I don’t want him on some revenge mission for Adam.’

  ‘With all due respect, Sir, I think he already plans to make Chase pay.’

  ‘For Tasha? He’s just mad because he got found out. McKenzie has only ever loved one woman. She was killed ten years ago, not ten hours.’

  ‘If you say so.’

  ‘I do say so. Keep your nose out of his business. Now scram!’

  Seventy Four

  ‘Radio me when that asshole manages to get down here,’ Frank says into his radio as he makes his way to the parking lot. Several officers pass him, each acknowledging him with a look of respect.

  Frank enjoys his reputation. He thrives on it. He walks down the sparsely lit hallway and reaches the bathroom. He opens it and goes to the urinal. He unzips his fly and hears something.

  He looks around and sees nothing. The cubicles are all vacant. He carries on until something grabs him by the back of the head. It forces his face into the dirty urinal. His head cracks against the ceramic and busts his nose open. He tries to draw breath.

  The urinal flushes and water streams into his mouth. He chokes hard. He wiggles, struggling to breath. His clothes are drenched and he manages to escape the grip.

  Immediately his head slams into the urinal again. Then he is thrown into the tiled wall. Tile chips as the impact of his weight makes fragments fly in all directions. A crack in the wall bears Frank’s blood. He is knocked to the cold sticky floor with a thud. His vision goes dark. He tries to open his eyes. The bathroom door creaks open and he manages to catch a glimpse of the door as it shuts, a mere shadow of movement in the darkened room. The door opens and footsteps rush towards him

  ‘Officer down.’ Someone grabs him. ‘I repeat, Officer down in the first floor toilets. Requesting medical assistance,’ the voice says.

  The man grabs Frank’s head and pushes it towards his knees.

  ‘You okay, Frank? Can you hear me?’ Frank can’t respond. The pain is excruciating as he tries to open his eyes.

  ‘Frank, look at me. Can you hear me?’

  Frank fails his attempt to stay conscious.

  Seventy Five

  The view is distorted by the fish eye effect of the rifle’s scope. Reporters are on the ground surrounding the area like snapping fish after bait. Flashes from the cameras cause lens flare to appear on the scope.

  The man in the suit sighs in frustration and waits for his mark. He flicks through the PDA beside him on the ground, pulling up various bits of information. He pulls a metal rod from his pocket and attaches it to the PDA. Pointing the rod towards the sky a few feet over his head, he looks down and sees the reading:

  “12 Miles per hour wind speed. Southern quarterly dip.” He puts the rod back in his pocket and presses a button on the PDA. ‘This is Romeo 171,’ he speaks. ‘Wind speed and direction are as calculated. Tango one arrival estimated in less than ten minutes. The target will come from the east. The wind will affect the shot, but nothing that I can’t handle. We are a go. I repeat, we are a go.’ ‘Affirmative.’ a musty voice replies from the radio.

  He unclips his earpiece and puts it back in his pocket and peers through the powerful scope. His finger rests on the side of the rifle. From the east, a convoy approaches in the distance. The image is blurry and he winds the scope in. The image stabilizes. It is four cars. American flags ripple in the wind as the cars approach. He cocks the bolt, his breathing slows. He looks down at his PDA and pushes a button. A timer counts down seven minutes. A roar from the crowd erupts below as the President of the United States of America approaches.

  Seventy Six

  ‘This is bullshit. You say the United States doesn’t negotiate with terrorists, but you won’t let us go into the building and rescue the hostages? It sounds like you don’t negotiate with anybody!’ Eddie shouts into the phone. ‘I’ll take full responsibility and report back when it’s done.’ He slams the phone down and turns to Chief Shaw.

  ‘We’re going to M.I.T to diffuse this situation.

  Shaw looks on, impressed.

  ‘How did you manage that?’

  Shaw takes a drag on his cigarette.

  The door bursts open and two officer’s rush into the room. ‘Detective Frank McKenzie has been attacked in the communal toilets.’

  ‘What?’ Eddie quickly starts to follow the men out of the room. He signals them to wait outside and turns to Chief Shaw. ‘You don’t have anything to do with this do you?’ ‘What the hell are you on about? Why would I do anything to Frank?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe because he smashed you up pretty good a half an hour ago.’

  ‘The guy’s a nut job. I find it hard to believe anyone would cross him.’

  Eddie is visibly unconvinced.

  Shaw com
es with Eddie as they follow the officers to the situation room. Frank is on a stretcher, a damp cloth held to his head. The cloth is bloody, his face is a mess of bruises and welts. Eddie makes his way over to Frank who sits up straighter. ‘What the hell, happened? ’ Eddie reaches the stretcher and pushes one of the EMT’s out of his way.

  ‘I’m fine. I just wish everyone would leave me alone.’

  ‘You don’t look fine, Frank. Someone bashed you pretty good.’

  Frank winces in pain and flexes his neck from left to right.

  Shaw moves closer. Eddie warns him off with a facial expression. Frank looks up and extends a nod to Shaw. Shaw makes his way toward them.

  ‘You okay Frank?’ ‘I’m okay. Look, I apologize for earlier, I shouldn’t have laid my hands on you.’

  Shaw smiles.

  ‘A bump to the head makes you into a wordsmith, Frank?’

  ‘If you want me to hand in my badge, I’ll—’

  ‘There won’t be any need for that, Frank,’ Shaw interrupts.

  ‘We convinced Washington to allow us to make a move on M.I.T.,’ Eddie changes the subject. ‘You’ll be leading an extraction team to bring Chase in, DOA. Obviously, we want the Hostages rescued.’ Frank hoists himself off the stretcher. ‘What did happen, then, Frank?’ ‘I was taking a piss when all of a sudden my head was being rammed repeatedly into the urinal. It knocked me for six. I couldn’t ID the attacker. Whoever it was was mighty strong.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll get a snag on the CCTV and ID the perp.’ Shaw promises. ‘I’ll keep you informed.’

  Frank nods and Shaw walks away. The busy incident room ignores the two men standing in its center. Eddie pulls Frank close.

  ‘Have you doing anything that could make you look like an idiot on the CCTV?’

  ‘No course not.’

  ‘I don’t want him pulling the footage up and seeing you drunk on your ass and falling all over.’

  ‘I won’t disappoint you, Eddie’

  ‘After the attack on the chief, if I find anything out of the norm on that tape, I swear I’ll kick you out so fast you’ll do backflips to your crappy Ford Capri!’