Memories of a Murder

by Sid Kar

  “Other police detectives would have anyways even if we had succeeded,” Philip said.

  “The whole idea was to make it look like some urban gang ambush of a random patrol car,” Richard said, “that’s why I picked that particular area for the attack.”

  “A gang with Heckler and Koch automatics?” Randy said skeptically.

  “They would have seen what they wanted to see,” Richard said, “gangstas from ghetto trying to settle a score with the police. But not this Frank,” Richard said, “I have actually met him in Afghanistan. He is a sharp cookie. He will eventually put two and two together.”

  “What must we do then?” Shawn asked.

  “You stay quiet,” Richard said then picked up his burner cell phone from the table, “I need to talk to the client. Try to convince him to start on our big job.”

  Richard dialed the number he had saved on the cellphone he had purchased with cash from a convenience store. A rough, thick voice answered the call.

  “Your boys fucked up,” were the first words out of his client’s mouth.

  “My apologies,” Richard said, “we need to get ready to move the merchandise.”

  “No, no,” the client replied, “your merchandise is going nowhere, till my merchandise is moved.”

  “Let yours be where it is, what is the hurry?” Richard asked.

  “Hurry? The police are getting clues from who knows goddamn where,” the client replied, “you move my merchandise first or you get someone else’s big toy to move yours.”

  “What did you get from the video on my phone?” Frank asked Romesh, the IT Analyst, as they walked into the computer room.

  “We zoomed and enhanced the video and showed it to Amy, but she said the faces are too hazy to do any type of a sketch,” Romesh replied. He walked over to his desk and handed Frank his cell phone. Then he turned on the projector and the big screen and played the video from the computer.

  They saw three figures ducking behind steel plates with their rifles aimed straight ahead. The video was shaking and the increase in size had rendered the images grainy. The resolution was very low and pixels appeared chopped. The faces couldn’t be easily made out although they could see the flashes from the muzzle because the video was playing in slow motion at one-fourth the actual speed. The video lasted for twenty seconds.

  Frank thought that even the video Friedrich had created from the electrical signals of Adam’s brain was much clearer than this. He could make out Panther’s face there; here the faces of the three assailants looked like mannequins to his unaided eye.

  “We didn’t get much, Frank,” Joe said.

  “Too bad we don’t have facial recognition,” Romesh said, “although I don’t believe it has advanced enough to identify those faces.”

  Frank said nothing. He actually did know someone who might just have access to that very facial recognition technology. He glanced at his phone and saw that he had missed calls from Clara.

  “We gave it a try,” Frank replied, “Joe, let’s grab breakfast.”

  They left the computer lab and Joe started walking towards the stairs to the cafeteria when Frank tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Joe, I am going out,” Frank said, “I have to make a private call, but I want you to do something for me after you eat.”

  “What is it, Frank?” Joe asked.

  “Get the forms for a search warrant on the phone records of Dunlap’s personal and office phone,” Frank said, “Take Legal’s help to get them prepared. We will go see a judge when I return.”

  “You suspect that oil man?” Joe asked.

  “It is far-fetched that a businessman would get involved with a hit squad, but it seems to me too much of a coincidence that we were just driving back from his place when we were attacked,” Frank replied.

  “Will do,” Joe replied.

  Frank left the police headquarters. He drove to the nearest large department store and parked his car at the end of the nearly empty parking lot. He made a call to Clara.

  “Oh my god, Frank!” Clara exclaimed, “Are you and Joe alright? Were you hurt?”

  “Fine,” Frank replied, “Did you…”

  “I caught it this morning on the news. I can’t believe you were ambushed,” Clara said.

  “Happens, now listen,” Frank said, “I am assuming Panther didn’t come. Did you find out anything else?”

  “Panther was a no show, but I did talk to this old trucker,” Clara replied, “Dunlap was indeed looking for truckers for off the record drive, but this was a while back.”

  “Can’t imagine him putting out a hit on police officers to hide financial or environmental violations,” Frank said, “something else is going on.”

  “You think it was him?” Clara asked, “I thought the news said it might be political radicals.”

  “That’s them speculating, but I won’t make any statement till I know more,” Frank said, “remember his bodyguard, Greg? I think he might have followed us and put the GPS device on my car when we were having lunch.”

  “That should tell us something,” Clara said.

  “Nope, no fingerprints just as I thought,” Frank said, “Police can’t trace it. It’s a custom made military grade GPS tracker. No matter, anyways, I have to make a call and then I am going to get Dunlap’s phone records. Stay put for a couple more hours. Me and Joe might come up there to grill Dunlap.”

  “Do you think you will get a warrant for his calls? I mean he is a big shot and we don’t have much on him,” Clara said.

  “Ordinarily the judge would have turned me down, but after yesterday, no judge will refuse me if I appear in person,” Frank said, “sit tight for a few.”

  Frank ended the call. He walked in the department store and purchased a burner smartphone with cash. Then he transferred a copy of the video from his cell phone to the burner phone. He took out his personal diary from his inner coat pocket and flipped the pages till he had found a number written next to the name of an old friend. He dialed the number using the phone he had just purchased.

  “Military Intelligence Center, Information Desk, how may I help you?” a voice of a young man in his early 20s answered.

  “This is Captain Frank Kirk, please connect me to Lieutenant Gavin Cook,” Frank said, “I used to be his commanding officer before his transfer to MI.”

  “Sir, what is this about?” the man asked.

  “What is this about?” Frank scoffed, “What is the level of your security clearance soldier?”

  “Sorry Captain. Let me connect you,” the soldier replied. Frank heard him hitting some keys on his computer.

  “Captain, there is a Major Gavin Cook, no Lieutenant,” he added.

  “Yes, that must be him, connect me,” Frank said.

  His call was transferred and answered half a minute later.

  “Captain Frank, great to hear from you after so long,” Major Gavin said.

  “Congratulations on the promotion, Gavin,” Frank said, “Major huh? Now I will have to salute you.”

  Gavin guffawed and said, “if you had stayed, you would have made Lieutenant Colonel by now. How is police work?”

  “Enjoying it so far,” Frank replied.

  “Hey, Frank, I heard about that shooting on your highway, terrible,” Gavin said.

  “I was in it,” Frank said.

  “You were! Oh my…who were those sons of bitches?” Gavin asked.

  “I was hoping you would tell me,” Frank said.

  “Oh no, it’s that type of a call huh?” Gavin asked.

  “Gavin, I need a favor. I know you guys have the same type of advanced facial recognition software that the NSA does…”

  “I don’t know what the NSA has, and I can’t confirm or deny what we have,” Gavin said.

  “Don’t confirm or deny, just run it for me and get me some names. I have a cell phone video I took of the three attackers,” Frank said.

  There was silence on the other end for a few seconds.

&nbs
p; “Listen, Frank, normally I would not do this, but you were my CO and it was an attack on you personally, so I will run it for you, just once,” Gavin said in hushed tone.

  “Give me an email, I will send over the video. Call me when you have something,” Frank replied.

  Gavin gave him an email which Frank wrote down in his notebook. After disconnecting the call, he attached and sent the video from his burner phone to the email address.

  Frank got out of the car and walked over to the coffee shop. He ordered himself his usual large iced coffee and just as he was walking back, his burner phone rang. Frank realized that if Gavin was calling back so fast it could only mean that he had found a match in their internal database itself.

  “Frank, we have got trouble, big time,” Gavin said gravely.

  “Tell me,” Frank said as he entered his car.

  “Frank, you remember one Major Richard Miller? We had met him in Afghanistan. He had his own Private Military Company providing security to the diplomats,” Gavin said.

  “I remember. We even had to give him a security escort once,” Frank replied.

  “And you had asked him if he would share a part of his fee with us since we were essentially guarding him,” Gavin chuckled.

  “What’s he got to do with all of this?” Frank asked.

  “Remember his mercenary outfit?” Gavin asked.

  “Yeah, they called themselves the Renegade Squadron, don’t know what the official name was,” Frank replied.

  “That’s their official name too and it was them who attacked you,” Gavin said.

  “WHAT!” Frank spat out his coffee on the steering wheel.

  “I ran it through our top secret facial recognition software that officially doesn’t exist,” Gavin said, “the three individuals who ambushed you are Philip McFadden, Randy Cash and Shawn Pate. All three have been employees of the Renegade Squadron since their start.”

  “Do they have anyone named Greg on their payroll?” Frank asked.

  “Gregory Dillard and Kyle Holden bring up the other end of Miller’s company,” Gavin said, “It’s always been the six of them.”

  “What’s their background like?” Frank asked.

  “You know Richard Miller. He was a Major in the Army. The other five were all recruited by him from under his own command in Special Forces,” Gavin said.

  “So they have put themselves up for the highest bidder,” Frank mulled the thought. Someone who would hire and pay Panther would also be someone who might hire a rogue private military contractor.

  “There is more,” Gavin said, “we have intelligence to believe that the Renegade Squadron was essentially an operation to smuggle heroin out of Afghanistan using diplomatic cover. Their baggage was untouchable as it was mingled with that of the diplomats they protected and escorted.”

  “Vietnam War Golden Triangle redux, huh?” Frank said.

  “Yep, and you know which country is now the largest producer of Heroin: Afghanistan,” Gavin said, “Funnily, when we intercepted data from one of the computer’s Richard had used on the base, he had searched for information on drug smuggling out of Vietnam during the war and ordered books on the same topic from Amazon. How-to manuals so to speak.”

  “Why don’t you arrest them?” Frank asked.

  “They are legally civilians, and our intelligence won’t hold up to the standards of civilian courts,” Gavin said.

  “What are they up to in the States?” Frank asked.

  “Frank, something I shouldn’t tell you, but I will. There is a Billion dollars’ worth of pure heroin floating out there somewhere between Germany and Afghanistan,” Gavin said, “billion with a capital B, and that is just its wholesale value. The street value would be multiple times. This was their big score. I believe this is still their major game. That is why I am surprised they would risk it by doing a side job like staging a public ambush.”

  “Tell me more,” Frank said. His detective senses were picking up hidden threads in the case.

  “Richard Miller and his Renegade Squadron were the last Americans out of Afghanistan on the last plane out,” Gavin said.

  “I can’t believe you and the CIA don’t have anybody there anymore,” Frank said.

  “You know what I mean. There will always be intelligence agents, but I am talking officially,” Gavin said, “they are US Citizens, so they fetched a ride on the last military plane flying out of Kabul. Military Intelligence had sources who told us they were carrying a massive shipment of heroin with them. We prepared to meet them with force at the Air Force base in Germany – I was there too along with fifty MP’s with M16s and four mounted M2 Machine guns – and we were ready to confront the Renegade Squadron. But all we found were two dumbfounded pilots. Heroin was gone. Miller and his team were gone. And the plane had never landed. We were tracking it with GPS satellite.”

  “They jumped off somewhere in between,” Frank said, “HALO jump with heroin.”

  “Exactly,” Gavin added, “the billion dollars of heroin is still out there somewhere and we believe Richard Miller and his boys are looking for ways to get it inside the continental US.”

  Frank said nothing for a few moments as ideas started connecting in his mind.

  “Frank, are you there?” Gavin asked.

  “Ways to get it inside you said?” Frank asked.

  “It is still out there somewhere,” Gavin said, “earning no money for anybody.”

  “And once it’s here it would need to be distributed, maybe by trucks…” Frank speculated.

  “I don’t know that part,” Gavin replied.

  “Have you told the DEA?” Frank asked.

  “Are you joking? This is strictly a military matter and we are under orders not to tell anyone outside,” Gavin said, “we hope to interdict it and take care of it while it’s outside the border and hence completely under Military’s jurisdiction.”

  “Maybe I will help you out if I manage to locate and arrest them,” Frank replied.

  “Good luck, Frank, and remember, this call never happened,” Gavin said.

  “Hey, I am calling from a burner,” Frank laughed, “can’t prove it was me, could be a mimic. You are the one on the land line.”

  “You got me, and I am the one in Intelligence,” Gavin chuckled.

  “I owe you a favor,” Frank said, “If you ever drive up in Jersey and get a traffic ticket, call me.”

  Gavin guffawed and ended the call.

  Frank threw away the burner phone in a nearby trashcan and drove back to the headquarters where Joe was relaxing in their office with a few forms in front of him on the table.

  “Legal helped me fill them out,” Joe said.

  Frank sat down at his desk, took the forms and filled out the missing information on Larry Dunlap, the target of his search warrant. Fifteen minutes later Frank and Joe were in his car driving down to the Superior Court. Frank did not have problems obtaining the warrant. He had narrowed his request only to the records of the incoming and outgoing phone numbers from Larry Dunlap’s personal and office lines; he hadn’t asked for the permission to tap his phones. Frank knew it was useless anyhow; if Dunlap was somehow involved, he would have heard the news of Frank surviving the ambush and would not speak of incriminating matters on the phone.

  The judge was also sympathetic as he too had seen the news and hence Frank had appeared personally before him. All the judge asked him was whether Frank suspected his target to be connected to the attack and then signed off on the request for the warrant.

  Frank and Joe returned to the headquarters and dropped the warrant off at the office of the Electronic Surveillance Unit which would coordinate the task of obtaining records from the telephone companies. Meanwhile, Frank and Joe went down to the cafeteria and ate a late afternoon lunch. When they returned, the surveillance staff had ready multiple pages of phone records with ownership identifications and geolocations of the calls printed out for them. Frank carried them all back to his office and asked Joe to c
lose the door.

  “Frank, how are you going to know which phone numbers are suspect?” Joe asked.

  “I am not,” Frank said, “but I will be using the process of elimination. In particular, I will be looking for unidentified phone numbers.”

  Frank went to work pouring over the phone records. He had asked for records going back a month, but he set aside those older than fifteen days for now. He used his pen to cross off all the phone numbers belonging to Dunlap’s family members and his business associates. The surveillance officers knew the format Frank always asked for in the records and had already listed the relationship of a phone owner to Dunlap wherever such data was easily available. This took him less than half an hour but he was able to cross off the majority of the phone numbers.

  Next, he individually searched the owner of each remaining phone number on the internet and tried to ascertain what type of connection that person might have to Dunlap. Some were easily crossed off, such as car dealership, golf course, restaurant reservation numbers; others took some digging, like the calls placed to the oil traders in Switzerland, port authorities in the Middle East, and satellite calls to his tankers in the Mediterranean.

  Finally after two and a half hours of focused, diligent work, he was left with only two numbers, both without any identifying information about their owners and both cell phones.

  “Down to two Joe,” Frank beamed.

  “Who those two belong to?” Joe asked.

  “Burners, just like I suspected and even wanted,” Frank said, “this confirms professionals like us who know how to avoid detection. And Dunlap called one of them right after we had left his office. That would be the Major, I suspect. The other could be Panther’s burner.”

  “Who is this Major now, Frank? Joe asked.

  “I will explain in the car,” Frank got up and shoved all the papers in his personal safe under his computer desk. But first he wrote down the two numbers in his personal diary.

  “Where we headed?” Joe asked.

  “Back to Dunlap’s place, but first we pick up Clara and you are driving,” Frank said, “I am going to call Clara from the car.”