COP

by Jim Magwood

  “Yes sir, you’re right. It’s a very large amount. The demolition charges, or satchel charges, this product is usually made into are both M112’s and M183’s. The M112 is basically about 1-1/4 pounds of C-4. The M183 is usually made up of sixteen of the M112’s, so an M183 would weigh about twenty pounds, plus the detonators and so on. An M183 is a normal satchel charge, but is just made for larger clearing jobs. This charge you found at the museum was an M183, detective, so someone was going to make a big boom.”

  “And, if whoever had this stuff has the rest, it can be presumed they have another about eighty pounds of it?”

  “Yes sir, you would be right, if one person happened to get all that missing product.”

  “So, no way to trace this stuff? See where it is now?”

  “No sir. Not at a distance. If it went through an airport or something, the machines would detect it, but other than that, there’s no way to smell it from a distance.”

  “Okay, so now we just sit back and wait for it to go boom somewhere?”

  “Sorry, detective, but unless someone can get a fix on it, that’s about the story.”

  “Well, I certainly do want to thank you, Ms. Branch. You have certainly made my day. Yes, you really have. And I do want you to know that I, personally, will not be doing any close range sniffing at this stuff. No, I most certainly will not. I’ll get me one of them sniffing dogs, or maybe even one of them little robot things, but not me. Nope.”

  “We’ll send the report in today’s courier, detective, and the full report in about another day. Sorry I couldn’t be of more help, sir.”

  “Oh, don’t listen to this old sniveler. It just goes with my turf. You’ve been a big help—I think. Talk to you later—I hope.”

  “Me too, detective. Bye for now—and be careful.”

  CHAPTER 44

  “Detective, this is Ted down in Detention. You’ve got someone down here would like to speak with you again.” “Again? The only one I know is Hernandez. Him?” “Yep, himself. Wanna come down?”

  “Sure. When can you set him up?”

  “By the time you get here.”

  “Okay, I’ll be right down.”

  Paul was ushered in to an interview room where Reggie

  Hernandez was already waiting. Reggie looked at him cautiously, but just sat quietly, waiting for Paul to begin. “Mr. Hernandez, I understand you want to talk?”

  “Suppose so. Thought of somethin’ maybe you should know.”

  “What brought on this sudden desire to tell me things?”

  “You said last time maybe I should care. Maybe I care?”

  “Okay, that’s a good thing. What do you want?”

  “Nah. Don’t want nothin’. Still waitin’ for trial, so got nothin’ else to do. Might as well talk, right?”

  “Okay, so?”

  “You was lookin’ for stuff on those school fires. Still lookin’?”

  “Yeah. Still looking. You have something?”

  “Yeah. Maybe they’s some people you should know ‘bout. Maybe go see. Might have some info for you ‘bout the fires, and the killings.”

  Paul caught his breath for a second. To have someone mention the shootings along with the fires was unusual. They hadn’t published that information yet, and there shouldn’t be many people who would know about the links.

  “Like what, Reggie?”

  “Like these people out there that do that kind of thing, or used to. Take out people who they got reason to dislike.”

  “You mean gangs, or for-hires?”

  “Nah, lot worse than them. Gov’ment people. Work for part of the gov’ment or used to. Maybe retired now, but still doin’.”

  Paul sat looking at Hernandez for several seconds before finally saying, “Maybe you should tell me about these people, Reggie. What do you know?”

  Reggie flashed a sudden grin at Paul and said, “I get anythin’ for it?”

  Paul didn’t smile, but said softly, “Maybe some more good feelings, Reggie. Maybe knowing you did right?”

  “Yeah, that and a free pass, right?” Reggie still grinned.

  Paul just waited.

  “Okay, so maybe I heard some things. Maybe know ‘bout some people used to do things the gov’ment wanted done. Quiet stuff. Nobody s’posed to know of but them. Like make somebody disappear. Like quiet, never seen again? Yeah, some bad folks take out people somebody else wants gone. People can’t keep their mouths shut ‘bout stuff; talk too much. Stuff like that.”

  “Reggie, how would you hear about these people?”

  “I been around some. Get to know people. Talk to lots of guys. I hear stuff, maybe meet people at parties, that kind of thing.”

  “So, do you actually know any of these guys?”

  “I know’d a couple. They talk about a few more. Guys still ‘round. Maybe for hire by other people now, not just gov’ment any more. Makin’ money for they’selves now, not for they uncle.”

  “You wouldn’t happen to have a name or two, would you? A place to find some of these guys?”

  “How quiet this gonna be? Who you be tellin’? I be a dead man if this gets out anywhere. Pretty hard to hide in here, ya know?”

  “Doesn’t have to go further than me, Reggie, and my partners.”

  Reggie sat silent for a while. Paul could see the questions and suspicions, even fear, running through his mind and reflected in his eyes. Then he looked at Paul directly and said, “Guess maybe I trust you some?”

  Paul nodded slightly at the man.

  “You ever hear the name, demons?”

  “Like ghosts, spooks and such?”

  “Yeah, but this one a real word. The demons, they got called that back in ‘Nam ‘cause they go out to get rid of people and it scares the people so much, it be so spooky, they call them the demons. Sneak in and do stuff, cut throats at night, take people away, all quiet and stuff. Evil like. Scare the gooks bad ‘cause they never see them. Just like ghosts. Calls ‘em demons.”

  “Where do you know this, Reggie?”

  “I hears it. Street people I meet. Talkin’ out a bottle. Maybe crazy in the head now, but still, more than one talkin’.”

  “So, who’d these demons work for, Reggie? You know?”

  “Yeah, some for the Navy, some Army, maybe even some for them CIA guys. Send ‘em into ‘Nam do a regular job, then send ‘em out on special work. Get rid of bad guys them others can’t catch. Get hold of special guys don’t have no problem doin’ the jobs, hard guys, maybe crazy a’ready. Then some of ‘em get brought home and told do the same things here, direct for the gov’ment. Maybe even just for themselves.”

  “You’re serious now, Reggie? Not just feeding me this, right?”

  “Why I do that?”

  “Maybe to get me in trouble. Make me look dumb if I start looking for weird guys that don’t exist.”

  “Yeah, well weird guys, but they exist. They real. You go ask.”

  “Who would I go ask, Reggie? You got a name?” “You don’t gonna’ say no names, right?”

  “Promise, Reggie. Who should I see?”

  After a moment on hold, Reggie said, “Might go talk to Sarge.”

  “Lot of guys by that name, Reggie.”

  “Only one Sarge live down on 46th behind that trailer repair place. Behind there, in some old shed thing by the tracks. Sarge lives there. You best be real careful, though. You ‘nounce youself real good before you find him or you don’t be comin’ back out.”

  “Maybe I should take a couple of people with me to see Sarge?”

  “Nah, not that big dude. Take him and you never see Sarge. He see you, though. Maybe do you bad—and then he spook away. He the demon, yeah?” With that, Reggie burst out into sharp, gravely laughing and rocked back in his chair.

  Reggie Hernandez didn’t have anything more to say; just kept on with laughing at his joke. Something Paul saw in his eyes made him think Reggie was maybe seeing visions of what ‘Sarge’ might do, maybe was even enjoying
the vision.

  CHAPTER 45

  “Okay, if you follow the map east from here, you can take Hiway 1 and it runs out a couple of miles and joins with Baltimore. Then across the tracks and then there’s 46th. There’s some big old buildings, looks like manufacturing or something. Maybe that’s what ‘Froggy’ was talking about?”

  “Yeah, that all sounds about right. But let’s talk for a minute before we go running off.”

  “Like what about?”

  “Well, have either of you ever heard anything about hit squads like he was saying? Military squads with ‘double-0-7’ licenses? Especially working outside the military? Has he just been reading too many story books?”

  Sylvia said, “I’ve read about groups supposedly like that, but I’ve never read anything official. Certainly never had any real contact.”

  Paul could see Jake being very quiet, his face clouded in thought, and he just waited for the big man. Finally, after Sylvia also noticed the uneasy silence, Paul asked, “Jake, what are you thinking?”

  Jake looked at him slowly, was silent for several more seconds, then finally said, “Yeah, they’re real.”

  “I was afraid you were going to say that. What can you tell us?”

  Slowly, with a reflective look, Jake replied, “Back in the day, I remember guys talking about these groups from Vietnam and stuff. Mostly started about then. They needed guys to go in and do stuff the regular troops couldn’t, or wouldn’t, do. Officers to lead them and such. Mostly Army guys, some Navy Seal types, that kind of guy. Some called them ghosts. Some other names, and I’m pretty sure I heard the term demons. Some pretty bad dudes, from what I remember. Some were old timers in the war business; some were new. Most were probably pretty crazy to start with to be able to do that stuff.

  “Later on, some folks talked about guys like that who got out and kept on doing stuff. Sometimes for the mobs; some of them maybe hired into places like the CIA and so on. Again, to do some real heavy lifting. Black bag stuff; off budget; nobody was to know. Rumor was they worked for some government types, too, doing things you wouldn’t read about in the papers. Or, maybe you would, but it would be ‘accidents,’ ‘muggings,’ stuff like that. So and so that said some bad things about the president would just suddenly be gone. Maybe find his belt buckle in some pig farm in Georgia. Maybe never find anything. But, no more bad talk about the president, right?”

  “So you’re saying this story could be real, then. Like he said, there really could be a ‘Sarge’ living under a bridge that used to do this stuff? Or, at least knows about it?”

  “Yeah, I’m saying ‘Froggy’ was probably right on. Don’t know if that’s who could be behind this mess we got, but, yeah, could be.”

  “Okay, so maybe this ‘Sarge’ could be real, could maybe tell us some things. So, what do we do about it? If we get the troops and go in with guns blazing, Hernandez says we’ll never see Sarge. Might even be in trouble. He even said don’t bring you, Jake.”

  “Think maybe ‘Froggy’ don’t like me that much?” Jake said with a little smile.

  “Could be. Anyway, if we go barging in, Sarge runs. If you go in, Sarge runs. Does that mean we send Sylvia in alone?”

  Jake and Paul both caught Sylvia’s head quickly turning to look at Paul. “Okay, guys, I’m a cop and all, but is this where I put on lipstick and whine about how little and helpless I am?”

  Paul chuckled and replied, “Just kidding, lady. No, I think this means that I go in and talk to this Sarge. But with you guys outside for backup.”

  “Don’t know why we need to be there, do you Sylvia? By the time we could back him up, he’d have Paul here chopped up and in his soup pot, right?”

  “I think Jake’s really, really right, Paul. We should just stay here and start the last rites paperwork.”

  They all sat quietly for a few moments, then Paul said, “So, I guess that’s settled. I’ll go see Sarge. You two stay here and start taking up a burial offering.”

  “But, we could probably do all that paperwork sitting in the car after we drop him off at that warehouse, right Sylvia?”

  “Sure, that way if we need your name spelled right, Paul, we can just call you.”

  “Okay, team, when do we make this little journey?”

  “Well, since it’s about lunch time, I suggest we take a drive so nobody will think we’re doing some nefarious deed, and we go over and scope this place out. If we happen to see this Sarge walking down the street, we could invite him for some sushi or something and save all the cloak and dagger stuff. Sound good?”

  “Good for me. Sylvia?”

  “I’m good. You got the keys?”

  “Let’s go visit our old buddy, Sarge.”

  CHAPTER 46

  The trio drove through the city and got to 46th Avenue. They finally found the old Odyssey Bus and Truck Repair facility with a section of railroad tracks running behind it. They could see several old shack contraptions behind some buildings and figured they were in the right place.

  “Now, which one houses our friend, Sarge?” Paul queried.

  “Wouldn’t want to do this at night, stumblin’ ‘round here in the dark and all.” Jake stated the obvious. “Surround it with some tanks and troops and let them find him.”

  Sylvia said, “Say, Jake, I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

  “Yeah, peachy even. What about you, Paul? You up for this?”

  Paul had caught Jake’s comment about doing it in the dark and felt himself tense up. Even in daylight, this is not gong to be peachy, he thought.

  “Okay,” he said. “Let’s do this. You guys don’t be too far away, okay?”

  “Close behind you, partner. Close enough to hear you call.”

  They drove into the repair yard, stopped at the office and let the people know what they were doing. They warned everyone to keep away, and were told that no one would get anywhere near them.

  One of the men said, “Yeah, I’ve seen an old guy back there by the tracks a few times. Never thought much about it, but, yeah, there’s some old stuff back that way he could live in, I guess.”

  The officers drove to the back of the yard, then Paul got out, reached to his side and touched his weapon, and started walking around the back of the buildings and toward the tracks. He saw the others follow him to the building edge, then stop and remain out of site. He did hear Jake say, in a muffled voice, “Okay, we got you.” Paul nodded for them and kept on walking slowly.

  As he walked, he could feel the same tingling as when he had the sessions with the dark. His nerves were tense; his breathing shallow and quick. He stopped for a moment and took a very deep breath, trying to get the adrenaline rush to slow down. He knew it wasn’t dark and that he had a perfectly clear view of everything around him, but he didn’t know what was there. He couldn’t see what he wanted to see. But, he continued to walk—slowly.

  He had gone past several large storage containers and huge packing boxes, brush and weeds everywhere, and was about to walk past the edge of the building on his right when a deep, husky voice came from the brush to his left.

  “Far enough. Stop there and talk to me. I know you a cop, so what do you want? And if you got a radio, tell them others to stay where they are.”

  Paul stopped and, slowly, turned toward the voice, then a little further around and hand-motioned the others to stay put. The he turned back to the voice, seeing just a shadow of the man through the bushes.

  “I’m looking for Sarge. You him?”

  “Dunno. Why you lookin’?”

  “Just got something I’d like to talk about. No other reason. Nothing wrong. Just need some information.”

  “Who tol’ you about Sarge?”

  “Just someone inside. Said didn’t want any names, though.”

  “Gave you Sarge’s name, didn’t he?”

  “Yeah, but I was just looking for information. He thought Sarge might be able to tell me some stuff.”

  “’Bout what?”

&nb
sp; “Something from years back. From the war and then later. Maybe even today.”

  “Lotta wars.”

  “This would be Vietnam. And maybe after. Maybe even today. You happen to know this Sarge person?”

  “Dunno. What you wanna know? Maybe I’ll tell him.”

  “Mind if I sit here on this stump?”

  “Rest yur’self.”

  As Paul sat, he saw a slight motion from back at the edge of the building and recognized Jake looking around the corner. Again, he slowly raised his hand and motioned Jake to stay back. At the same time, he saw the man who presumably was Sarge looking over at Jake. He appeared to be casual about it, but Paul figured the old man could be gone in a heartbeat.

  “We’ve got a bit of a problem we’re working on,” Paul started. “We’ve been working on some school fires—don’t know if you’ve heard of them or not.”

  “I heard.”

  “Well, at some of the fires, and at a couple of other places, we’ve had some people get shot. No reasons we know of, kind of out of the blue. This fellow inside I mentioned said something that got me wondering and so I’m here.” He paused for a moment, and then said, “You ever hear of demons, Sarge, or ghosts?”

  The man didn’t question the choice of name Paul used, and simply said, “Every kid’s heard of them.”

  “This would be different, though. Maybe the terms come from the war?”

  “Yeah, might be. Why you want to know about ghosts and goblins?”

  “Just a feeling I had when this guy talked about them. Maybe some of the guys from back then went into business for themselves? Maybe still fighting wars of their own? Maybe still being used?”

  “Yeah, maybe being used, is right.”

  “So, you know about them?”

  Paul reached back to pull his coat from where it had snagged behind him a little, and the voice said, “Don’t be movin’. Stay put.”

  “Just pulling my coat around. Won’t move, though.” He paused, then continued, “So, do you know them, Sarge?”

  There was silence for a moment and he thought Sarge might have run, but he looked closely at the patch of brush and finally saw the image again.