by Jim Magwood
“Hi, Paul. Glad you called. I was thinking about you and the case and wanted to touch bases with an update. I’ve got a ton of data here, not much that links anywhere yet, but was wondering if you’ve gotten any further on your end.”
“Well, it’s not much but we maybe got just the hint of a beginning. I’ll brief you on it and then send an e-mail with the details. What kind of things have you come up with?”
Roger ticked off the various types of events and hits he had such as the WBAK and police references to the school fires, the list of violence and accidents regarding children in the area, the items referencing the so-called demon squads and the obvious notes about the shooting of Senator Marks and the others. “But,” he added, “I don’t see any obvious links between any of them yet. Don’t give up hope, though. Sometimes these things take forever and then there’s one big hit that moves the whole situation.”
“Yeah, I’m used to that kind of thing.”
“What else did you have to give me?”
Paul went on to tell him about the bomb at the Smithsonian and the traces back to the Navy. While he was speaking, Roger keyed in the basics of the material and got some immediate hits. They were just news references to the events and some encyclopedia data on the explosives, but they were a start. He knew there would be more when the system had time to do its full search.
Before signing off his systems, though, he thought to set up one more search. Follow the money had always been one of his guiding principles, so he keyed in a search designed to look for any extra-large numbers of bank transfers, extra-large exchanges of money, and any transfers that appeared to be the same amount of funds going out of a bank that had just come in within the last day or so. He knew that the list would be huge because he was actually tracking virtually every bank in the world, and every transaction, but certain parameters he coded in would screen out most things but the obvious possible matches he was looking for and would bring the list down hugely.
He saw hundreds of transactions immediately start flowing across his screen and knew the list would be massive. But he also knew once he could read some of the items he could begin sorting by key words, phrases, amounts, even countries and people, that could narrow the search and perhaps bring out some links to the other critical events.
As he was finishing, an e-mail popped in. Jacob Asch was on his way from Tel Aviv to his Alberta lodge and would be available within the next couple of days to help in the investigation. Roger e-mailed him back with the general parameters of what was going on so far so Jacob could start formulating ideas. He also told Jacob he was leaving immediately for the Bistcho Lake cabin and suggested Jacob have his caretaker/pilot helicopter him over to the cabin so they could have full access to all Rogers findings and his computer resources. He knew it would feel good being with the older man again. Jacob had such a world of knowledge within him, and a stability that Roger always looked forward to tapping into.
Jacob Asch settled back on the big jet and pondered the message he had received. Roger had given him a lot of different things to think about with several pieces of information that had turned up. Jacob could see no immediate trail to follow, but he knew there would be a trail somewhere.
He knew things were almost never what they seemed in his business. Good wasn’t good. Right was actually left. The ultimate purpose was often so buried that even the planners lost track. An original purpose split into several; goals changed; logic did not prevail. Terrorists originally following a jihad often became charged with their own emotions and the jihad changed shape. Some people with specific goals tasted their first blood and quickly evolved into things even they didn’t understand. This had been Jacob’s life ever since he had started with the Mossad so many years ago.
He remembered how hard it had been to stay on track when things changed around him. Carefully laid out plans took on new shapes, or were dropped completely. He thought of many people he had known that simply could not handle the changes, the lack of ultimate direction, who couldn’t refocus as life around them fluxed, and weren’t able to stay in the program. They had been good people, great ones in many other types of activity, but couldn’t handle Jacob’s world.
While Jacob could never be described as a deceitful man, deception and secrecy always ran close behind the current of what he was working on. No one could know. No one could be allowed into the plans. Everything had to be hidden, made to look different, twisted. It was why he had made the decision early on that he could never marry or have a family. He couldn’t live having to hide from a wife or family, and he knew they could never live with being hidden from. There had been a lovely young lady in his early years, but when he had to lie to her the first time, he knew he couldn’t continue.
Jacob gave every appearance of being just an average Israeli man, a good university professor who was loved by his students, and a middle-east scholar who was well-known in scholastic circles. However, his mind was such that he could see and think his way through extremely difficult situations and people and come up with answers where others were lost. He was nondescript and could fit into crowds of people anywhere and not be remembered. There were many times when someone had impersonated him at some function while he had been a world away on a mission almost no one knew about. If asked, the response had always been, “Why, yes, I saw Mr. Asch at the conference last week. He gave that short talk about…”
Whether in a bazaar in Istanbul, or a state house in London, or in the desert sand of the Middle East, Jacob Asch fit in. Whether as a professor leading a high level conference on Israeli/Arab relations or as a Mossad official recruiting new spies or making plans for the next deception, Jacob fit in. And moved between his roles with ease. Only a very few people around the world, even in his own government, knew of his double life, and general attrition was making that group smaller every year.
As he thought over the information Roger had sent him, he found himself wandering far from the details and drifting into the deeper questions. Why were these things taking place? What could be the purpose of them? With the weapons and the types of events obviously being related, that part was not in doubt. But why? Schools fires, senators, perhaps a bomb. What could be tying them together?
He knew they could be distractions hiding another purpose. That was definitely the world he lived in. So, what else was going on that wasn’t being seen because of these glaring distractions? Could they actually be somewhat unrelated? Perhaps a group of crazies with multiple, but individual, purposes? He remembered a group he had dealt with from Spain, fairly young people, whose sole purpose was to individually create havoc of any kind, any place. The group had managed dozens of violent actions within Spain and had then branched out to Israel and other places. Several people had been killed and others senselessly injured because no one could find relationships between the events. They looked at them as separate actions and it was more than two years before Jacob had helped bring the focus onto the single group.
Jacob thought of a part of the message Roger had sent describing another series of events. “My contact in D.C., the detective, gave me another series of things that he said to check into. Mostly looking like computer intrusions into agencies and businesses, banks, and so on, white-collar type crimes. They certainly don’t look related to the fires, etc., but could there be a chance?”
Jacob agreed there was no semblance of a relation between the events. White-collar crime almost never equaled murder and arson. Arsonists and murderers almost never had the desire to set up computer crimes. But, almost was the key word. Schools, senators, banks, federal banks. Was government a possible key word that tied them all together? It didn’t seem reasonable, but reasonable was a word in Jacob’s vocabulary that didn’t often make situations work. Reasonable people didn’t start fires; reasonable people didn’t wear bombs into groups of children; reasonable events didn’t produce death and destruction.
Jacob had learned long ago to not get distracted by events or information that
didn’t fit together. Stay focused was a mantra. So he pushed the distracting possibilities to the back of the pile. But a part of his mind kept them on edge, always ready to be mixed with new ideas that came up. He had also learned long ago to never disregard things just because they didn’t fit at the moment.
CHAPTER 61
Paul picked up the phone. “Detective Corbin. How can I help you?”
“Remember me? This is Sarge.”
Paul was taken back for a moment. He didn’t think that Sarge would ever use a phone. What was this about? He waved to get Sylvia’s attention and gave her a “trace this” motion.
“Sarge. Yes, of course I remember you. I’ve done some research with what you told me. Interesting stuff. What can I do for you today?”
“Din’ think I could find you, huh? Anyway, I got some info for you. Got your pencil?”
“Yeah, I sure do. What’s up?”
“You still lookin’ for a guy for the fires? I got a guy.”
Paul’s mind was whirling now. What was this all about? Was Sarge real?
“Go ahead, Sarge. I’m listening.”
“Okay. Harper Hotel. A room on the third floor. He’s in there most of the time. You gotta be careful, though. He’s not very nice, ‘specially if people jus’ drop in. Word ‘round is that he’s been seen ‘round those schools, and somebody said they heard him talkin’ ‘bout settin’ fires an’ such. Takin’ care of business, you know? Said he was talkin’ loco. Pretty much out of his head, you know?”
“Yeah, Sarge. Where’d you hear all this?”
“Can’t say. People don’t want you to know ‘em. But they’s real. Some from the old days, like I was tellin’ you. Couple guys just hang around now, pickin’ up scraps to live an’ such. Dumpster divers, you know?”
“Sarge, can you and I sit down somewhere and talk about this? I could meet you anywhere you want. I’d like to spend some time with you.”
“Nope. Not now. Don’t want to get close to this stuff. Don’t like cops too much, either. You go do your thing. Maybe we talk some day later.”
“Okay, but keep it in mind, okay? We need to talk some time.”
“Yeah,” Sarge chuckled.
“This guy got a name, Sarge?”
“He had a mama, right? Prob’ly had a name. Don’t know it, though. Nobody said.”
“How old is he, Sarge?”
“Don’t know. Probably only ‘bout in his 40s, though. Not old. Not young.”
“So you don’t know him yourself, Sarge?”
“Nope. Just know ‘bout him. What I heard an’ stuff. He’s prob’ly bad, though, so you bes’ be careful.”
“People talking about giving him up, Sarge? About us going to see him? Or you just heard stuff about him?”
“Nah, just stuff. He’ll know yur comin’ up, though. That’s the way he is. He’ll know.”
“Do you know his background? Is he military or ex-cop or anything? Will he have weapons?”
“All I know is he’s ex-military. Not old enough to go back to Vietnam, but lots of stuff since then. Maybe Granada, maybe the desert stuff. Maybe even worked for the government some. Lots of government folk hire these guys to do their dirty work. Been there; done that. Usually scared of you and treat you like garbage, but the money’s good.”
“So you did that work, Sarge?”
“Don’t gonna talk ‘bout that. But I know how it works. Yeah.”
“Can we talk some day, Sarge? I’d really like to know about some of this stuff.”
“Bet you would. Maybe we talk some day. Maybe not.”
“Okay, maybe. I guess I better go talk with this guy now, right?”
“Jus’ you be careful, here? You knock on his door nice an’ peaceful like. Jus’ go have a nice talk, yeah. Jus’ be careful. Yeah. Gotta go now.”
“Okay, Sarge. Maybe I’ll come out and see you again one of these days. Okay?”
“Maybe you’ll see me.” Then the phone clicked off.
Sylvia immediately jumped in with, “What was that all about? Did he have a lead for you?”
“Yeah, so he says. Some guy laid up in a hotel. Maybe ex-military or hired by some government agency—or maybe just a person in the government. Did you get a trace on the call?”
“We can check and see.” She called downstairs to the data center, but the message wasn’t very good.
“Looks like he was using a phone beside a fast-food place across town. Outside, in a little booth thing. They’ve got a car heading there right now, but he won’t likely be around. So what now?”
“Well, I think we need to pay our ghostly friend a visit, don’t you?”
“Yeah, but how about SWAT or something? Do we need a full team for this?”
“Yeah, I thought about that but I’m not thinking so at this time. Maybe just a quiet, casual visit. See if he’s even there and what we might find out about him. If it appears to be dangerous when we get there, we can back off and call in the troops. I think we should just get hold of Jake and make it a threesome.”
“Okay, I’m good for that. But if anything looks squirrelly, we call people in, right? No macho stuff?”
“Yeah, for sure. We’ll just knock and see if he’ll talk. He maybe has nothing to do with all this. Maybe just has some information. Maybe nothing. But we’ll see if he has anything to say.”
“Okay. Jake should be back in shortly. Any special time you want to do this? Daytime? Evening? Now?”
“I don’t have a problem with now, daytime. Might be more people around in the evening. Could scare him off if he feels crowded. Any working people would likely be out now, so it might be quieter.”
When Jake came in a few minutes later, Paul and Sylvia brought him up to date with the information and plans. They worked around possibilities and finally decided it wasn’t a SWAT action yet. Just a casual visit to see if the gentleman would speak with them, or whether he was even home.
They had no real idea who this person was, but hoped the building manager might give them some hints. He turned out to be a reasonable man, middle aged but still active, and seemed to be knowledgeable about his tenants. When the trio described as best they could what the man might be like, he suggested, “Maybe 304 upstairs. Might be closest to fitting your description. Mr. Black. Let’s go see if he’s in. I haven’t seen him today—in fact, for a few days.”
They went up in the elevator and down the fairly well kept hall, to a room on the left that would face over the alleyway behind the building. When they got to the door, Jake put his ear to it, listening for any sounds. He backed away and said, “Can’t hear a sound.”
The manager looked a little nervous about his options and asked, “Want I should go get a key and try to open it? Don’t know if the master will match it anymore, but…”
Paul said, “No, we don’t have any reason for that. This is just a visit.”
The trio conversed again and decided to just knock and see what happened. They had the manager move back down the hall a couple of doors, then Paul rapped on the door. Not a cop knock-down, just a good-neighbor-come-to-visit knock. There was no response, so Paul put his ear to the door.
“I hear some noise,” he said. “Maybe some little scuffling? Maybe he’s coming.”
They waited for a moment, then Paul knocked again. No movement, so he listened again. Suddenly there was a little screeching sound from the room, like furniture being dragged over the floor, or…
“He’s opening a window, I think.” This time he banged on the door and called, “Sir. Mr. Black, would you open the door, please. We’d like to talk with you.”
There was a definite ringing sound of someone likely jumping out onto a fire escape. Jake said, “Did you just hear someone fall down and call for help? I think we need to go help whoever’s in there, don’t you?”
Sylvia said, “Yeah, I’m sure that was someone falling. Let’s do it.”
Jake said, “I’ve got the biggest feet, so I’m gonna put my foot to the
door and then I’ll drop out of the way. You two take the lead and I’ll follow right behind you.”
Sylvia said, “Okay. You’re bigger, Paul, so you brace Jake. The door swings to the right, so I’ll lead and sweep left. You come right behind me and sweep right.”
“Got it.”
Jake moved to the front position and Paul moved behind him to brace him. Jake lifted his size huge foot, reared back and slammed it into the door, then dropped to the hall floor. Sylvia jumped over him as the door crashed in and started to sprint through the door. She felt Paul’s hand on the back of her shoulder as she entered… then the room exploded and she was picked off her feet and blown back into Paul and both of them across the hall.
Much of the doorway became nothing but deadly splinters as it disintegrated at them. Pieces of what appeared to be furniture that was likely between the explosion and the door followed. Paul had been caught behind Sylvia, so he didn’t get hit by any of the debris. Sylvia, though, became a pincushion. Her protective vest kept most of the missiles out of her upper body, but her legs, arms and face were riddled with splinters. She was immediately covered with blood. The glasses she wore kept splinters from going directly into her eyes, but the lenses had broken and shoved back at her.
The manager froze, not believing what had just happened. Then he turned and banged hard on the door beside him, then went down the hall banging on other doors. The first one opened a second later and he shouted, “Call 9-1-1. Explosion. People injured. Cops down and injured. Hurry.” The lady jumped back into her apartment and the manager rushed to the trio to help.
Jake was getting to his feet. He had been on the floor and to the side and hadn’t suffered from any of the explosive attack. His hearing was off, though, and he shook his head trying to clear himself. He was covered with dust. Then he turned his head and looked down at Sylvia and Paul, still on the floor. A long “Nooooo” came from him and he was down on his knees with them.