by Sid Kar
“Is Dunlap going to escape the charges for the murders of both Adam and Roy?” Clara asked. Her face became morose with dejection.
“The old coot will still die in jail for intentionally creating a major public safety hazard and illegal disposition,” Frank said, “I am not familiar with those specific charges and penalties, but he won’t walk out of the prison. It is the same punishment he would have gotten because Jersey has no death penalty and I doubt he would have received it. He didn’t pull the trigger on Adam and we have no witnesses nor the gun for Roy’s murder.”
“Still doesn’t feel as if the justice was served,” Clara said.
“Frank, did you ask your dad what could be in those steel drums?” Joe asked.
“Forgot, but don’t matter now. Anthony will find that out,” Frank said, “Joe, and those weren’t steel barrels. Steel is more shiny, silvery; they were dull and gray.”
“It wasn’t Aluminum; that’s even more shiny and silvery than Steel,” Joe said, “and wasn’t Copper, Bronze or Lead; they all reddish brown in color.”
“Lead isn’t reddish brown, Joe, it is actually gray,” Frank said, “you are thinking of the metal jacket over the bullet.”
Joe smacked his face with his open palm.
“Of all people, I should know that,” Joe laughed, “but who the hell would use Lead barrels?”
“Lead…Lead…” Frank mused to himself and then jumped up with a “Holy Hell!” and spilled his remaining coffee over his uniform and his hand. He pulled back his hand and jiggled it vigorously to shake off the hot coffee droplets. Joe and Clara laughed.
“I think I just busted the case open,” Frank said.
“I think you busted your coffee everywhere,” Clara said.
“I now believe it is the radioactive nuclear material that’s stored in those drums,” Frank said.
Clara’s facial expression quickly changed from smile to fear and her eyes were welled up with tears. Joe’s face was blank and expressionless.
“Frank you cannot be serious…” Clara said.
“It all fits now,” Frank said and started pacing the room, “Ruth Beard mentioned an accident and the old road trooper inside of me thought of a traffic accident,” he said, “more likely an accident at a nuclear power plant. The power plant which we saw in one of the videos just where the tankers turned around was an atomic one; hell we saw the typical curve shaped containment chambers for the reactors. The very heavy protective suits we found in their SUV…Roy’s mention of the dangerous nature of his job…I thought he meant he could be whacked but why take the job if you expect that beforehand. No, he must have known. The lead drums to contain the radiation seal it for me.”
“But why would Larry Dunlap care to save a power company from its mistake?” Clara asked.
“Let’s see,” Frank said and logged onto his computer. “The two companies might have some kind of a relationship. Let’s see what we can find.” Frank went on the internet and searched the Securities and Exchange Commission website for information on Dunlap’s company. He scrolled down till he came across the company filings for early 90’s. He spotted one filed in 1993 and narrowed his eyes to focus on it. ‘NOTICE OF SALE OF CAPTIVE POWER ASSETS’, he read aloud the title and opened the report.
“What is this, Frank?” Joe and Clara asked.
Frank quickly skimmed the summary in five minutes.
“That’s it. Dunlap owned that nuclear power plant. It provided power solely to his refinery,” Frank said, “he sold it to a power utility in 1993, but get this, he sold it in February of ’93. That means he must have put it on the market in ’92 itself. I bet right after the radiation accident or spill.”
“He wanted nothing more to do with it after it turned out to be unsafe,” Clara said.
“Or he cut corners when running it,” Frank said then scrolled the report for a few more pages till he came across a particular phrase he was looking for. “INDEMNIFICATION CLAUSE. Aha!” Frank said, “Dunlap was cunning but he is still on the hook for it.”
“What does Indemnification mean?” Clara asked.
“Another legal term I learned from dad,” Frank said, “it means Dunlap assumes responsibility for all the liabilities of the nuclear power plant arising from the time he owned and operated it. His refinery insurance isn’t going to pay for this either. This will bankrupt him. His shirt will be taken off his back and auctioned off by the bankruptcy court.”
“Curly will bid on his socks,” Joe chuckled.
Then they heard the cackle on the police radio. Joe turned up the volume and placed it on the table.
“Can you please quiet that, Joe…” Clara said.
“SHOTS FIRED! SHOTS FIRED!”
“OFFICERS UNDER ATTACK, I REPEAT WE ARE UND…”
“I AM HIT, I AM HIT!”
The last one was Anthony’s voice.
“What is going on?” Clara was bewildered.
“Renegade Squadron,” Frank nodded his head, “That’s why those two were loitering in the same area we dug up Roy’s skeleton from. Up till now we were thinking they too were after the skeleton since Dunlap’s case had become hot.”
“But Dunlap actually hired this Renegade Squadron to get rid of the radioactive waste,” Clara said, “since they would have had training handling that type of material.”
“I did too,” Frank said, “he must have hired them for both the tasks. Two for the price of one. And in exchange he would allow them to utilize his tanker to transport a billion dollars worth of liquified heroin. The heroin would come in undetected into the country, pumped from the ship tanker to a road tanker as if it was crude oil and transported straight to Dunlap’s refinery, cooled and solidified again and who knows how the Renegade Squadron was planning on distributing it. I bet he offered Adam the role of the tanker driver in all these schemes.”
“Bet Dunlap has a large share of the heroin deal too,” Clara said, “three for the price of one, Frank.”
“Dunlap is a player,” Joe said.
Meanwhile Frank fumbled with a set of keys he had taken out of his pockets and furiously opened different desk drawers.
“What are you looking for?” Clara asked.
Frank pulled out a couple of bag packs from one of the drawers and tossed one of them to Joe.
“Battle packs I have stocked up just for a day like this,” Frank said.
Frank took out a magazine belt from the bag pack and tied it around his waist. Then he stocked it with a multitude of 30 round mags from the bag. Joe did likewise but his belt was for shotgun shells.
“Grab your radio, Joe,” Frank said and headed out the door of his office. Joe followed him and Clara ran after them.
“Clara, I can’t take you with us,” Frank said, “I need you to make direct contact with Colonel Ed. I won’t be able to get through to him. There will be too many people from different departments clamoring for his attention. But you can, since he thinks you represent the CIA’s Director of Operations.”
“Where are you two going?”
“It is going down today. The final showdown between Frank and Joe against the Renegade Squadron,” Frank replied.
“Anthony talk to me, how bad is your situation?” Frank transmitted over the radio placed on his dashboard as he pulled his cruiser out of the police station parking lot, turned on the lights and the sirens and accelerated on the road.
“Frank, is that you?” Anthony replied, “You sent me into an ambush,” he said.
Frank stayed silent.
“Cheer up, Frank. A bullet took out my shoulder but my boys have got me pumped full of Morphine so I am just numb now,” Anthony’s voice cackled over the radio. There was a lot of cross talk on police band as many other troopers and officers were frenetically trying to ascertain the events or convey information.
“Damn radio is incoherent,” Frank said, “Call him on his cell Joe and put him on speaker.”
“You got it,” Joe replied and dialed Anthony.
>
“Frank, what’s up?” Anthony answered on the phone.
“I want to tell you something but don’t want to cause a panic,” Frank said, “but first tell me what happened?”
“Walked into or I should say drove into an ambush,” Anthony replied, “we saw an 18-Wheeler Semi parked next to the Applewood Forest dirt trail. Thought nothing of it, perhaps a trucker relieving himself in the woods. We parked a hundred feet away on the other side of the road, got out and instantly came under automatic fire. Luckily they were in a hurry. Got in that truck and sped away on 80 East.”
“Anthony, it’s worse than I thought,” Frank said.
“What do you mean?”
“Those metal barrels I mentioned in my message which they are transporting in that truck; they are most likely made of lead and holding radioisotopes from some nuclear accident,” Frank said.
“WHAT!” Anthony said, “And they are taking it out on the road.”
“I think they are going to try to dump them in the ocean,” Frank said, “that way nothing can be traced back to Larry Dunlap.”
“Frank, I am going to call this in to Colonel Ed and the governor,” Anthony said, “maybe he will mobilize the National Guard.”
“That will be too late,” Frank said, “hold on I am getting a call from the Colonel. I will make it a conference.”
“Frank what is going on?” Colonel Edward asked, “Clara here told me about your theory. Where is that damn truck with the mercenaries?”
“Anthony here. The radio chatter on the police channel is that multiple road units are in pursuit of the truck which is gunning it at nearly 80 mph,” Anthony said.
“Oh my god…” Edward said.
“Frank, Joe where the hell are you?” Major Kenneth asked.
“Driving to meet them,” Frank replied.
“What? Leave that to the SWAT Team,” Edward said.
“Me and Joe have fought these boys two times now,” Frank said, “besides time is running out.”
“SWAT is getting ready. Kenneth will be leading them,” Edward said.
“Let’s get on a restricted police channel for emergency tac ops,” Kenneth said, “Frank keep us apprised of your position. We will be right behind you.”
Frank ended the call. Joe was clutching the Benelli in his hand. Frank’s AR-15 was also lying beside his leg as he had taken it out of the trunk beforehand. A couple of minutes later they got a text message with the restricted frequency number and Joe tuned in to that.
“Headed north on I-95,” Frank said on the radio.
“You are going away from them,” Kenneth spoke.
“I bet they will take 287, the best place for them to dump that radioactive material is in Raritan Bay and have it washed away into the Atlantic Ocean,” Frank said, “I plan to hit 287 first and intercept them.”
“It’s too late to stop them on 80, but I want a road block on 287 north of Morristown,” Edward said, “see to it.”
“Yes, sir,” someone else replied. Frank presumed it was whoever was in charge of the road troopers.
Frank knew they weren’t going to stop for a roadblock. Not the Renegade Squadron. But he kept his thoughts to himself.
“Major Richard, listen to this,” Randy Cash said as he turned up the volume on the radio. Richard was busy examining the road map on his laptop while Randy sped down the highway continuously honking to get the drivers out of his way.
“What is it?” Richard asked without lifting up his chin.
“We interrupt this program for a breaking news of a wild chase that began on 80 and continues down on 287 where a dozen state police cars are in fast pursuit of an 18 Wheeler barreling down the road at a high speed where the Semi will impact like a missile on collision” the radio broadcaster said.
“I don’t understand how this detective Frank knew about the dig in Applewood!” Richard banged his fist on his laptop. He looked up at the road and then at the speedometer in front of Randy. “Faster man, faster!”
“I am already at 90, Major,” Randy said.
“Go over 100,” Richard said calmly.
“The state police are not giving out any details except for warning all the drivers on 287 driving towards Morristown, where they are setting up a roadblock, to pull to the side of the road,” the radio spoke.
“Bunch of idiots these radio babblers,” Richard scoffed, “Take 24 to 78, we will bypass the roadblock.”
“Who the hell told the news media about the road block?” Ed asked over the radio.
“Newscasters have their own choppers in the air,” the officer setting up the roadblock replied, “a couple of them are looking down at us now.”
“Why don’t we have eyes in the air? Get our own goddamned helicopter up there,” Ed shouted.
“The target has just pulled onto 24,” one of the troopers in pursuit said.
“Ed, move the roadblock to 78 near Warren,” Kenneth said, “Me and SWAT are gunning north on 206. We will swing on 78 after Bridgewater and combine forces with the troopers near Warren.”
“Do it as Ken says,” Ed said, “And Ken, remember what Frank and Clara said is in that truck. We can’t have those lead barrels pierced with bullet holes and let the radiation escape out.”
“These boys aren’t surrendering peacefully,” Ken said.
There was a silence on the radio for two minutes.
“Be careful, but you do what you have to stop them,” Ed said, “deadly force is authorized.”
“Frank, how are we going to stop an 18 wheeler truck?” Joe asked.
“I have been thinking of nothing except that since we started,” Frank replied.
“You don’t intend to stand on the road and shoot through their windshield like last time, do you?” Joe asked.
“Not a chance, Major Richard would have thought and prepared for all common and conventional assaults,” Frank said.
The radio cackled with a voice that was accompanied with the background noise from rotating blades.
“Target has taken 78 East, I repeat they are moving northeast towards Newark on 78 East,” the voice said.
“They are going north?” Ed mulled it over, “perhaps they have changed their plan to dump the contents in Newark Bay.”
“Negative Colonel,” Frank replied, “they would get bogged down in all the truck traffic around the ports. I still say they are coming to Raritan Bay. They will swing south on the Turnpike I-95.”
“I have already put our SWAT team in northern Jersey on alert,” Ed said, “if they do move north, I will order them on the road on the interception course.”
“Alright, we will also get on Turnpike via 287,” Ken said, “catch up to Frank and Joe.”
Frank scoffed at the thought because he was already at 110 mph and was still accelerating. The Sunday morning traffic was sparse and cars could hear his sirens from afar.
“Going down for a closer look,” the chopper pilot said, “it appears they have put a very large tire on top of the truck…I spot two men covering inside the tire and armed with…”
A crackle of gunfire erupted over the radio.
“We are taking fire!” the helicopter pilot shouted.
“Pull up, pull up,” someone else screamed.
Next few sounds to come over the radio were metallic tangs of bullets hitting the helicopter frame.
“We are hit! We are going down!” the pilot screamed.
“Oh no…” Ed exclaimed.
No one spoke on the radio but the garbled incorrigible screams and whirls of blades thrashing about in the air carried through. Then a cacophony of metal crashing against concrete was abruptly ended when the radio itself was smashed to oblivion.
“Bastards want a war,” Ken said, “Frank, let’s give it to them.”
“All for it,” Frank replied.
“Target’s taken Turnpike South,” one of the road units in pursuit called out.
“Truck or car lanes?” Frank asked.
“Car lanes.
Not a surprise since other large trucks may not be intimidated to get out of their way,” the road trooper said.
“How many of you are in pursuit?” Ed asked.
“Roughly twenty cars, but we can’t get close to the target. We are receiving heavy fire from their machine gun,” the road unit replied.
“Come again,” Frank blinked a few times, “you mean automatic fire and not an actual military grade machine gun?”
“Yes, a military machine gun,” the trooper replied, “some cars got their hoods and tires shot off by the continuous fire and dropped off the chase. Rest of us are following at a safe distance now.”
“We have bullet proof SUVs,” Ken said, “we will handle these yahoos.”
“Major Ken, where are you?” Frank asked.
“We turned south on Turnpike,” Ken replied.
“South?” Frank exclaimed
“They will be coming down this side of the road,” Ken said, “we plan to set up a road block just ahead of 440 East. If your theory is right, that is the road they will take to Raritan Bay.”
“That’s right,” Frank said.
“Frank, you should take a U-Turn and join forces with Ken,” Edward said.
“Don’t stop us now, Colonel. I have a plan,” Frank said.
“Alright, Frank, I trust your combat experience,” Edward sighed.
“Frank, they will pass us by on the other side,” Joe said.
“Joe,” Frank chortled, “I know.”
Frank slowed down the car when he spotted a break in the concrete divider between the Northbound and Southbound lanes that was only for the use of official vehicles. Frank took a quick glance at the other side of the road then turned his car through the divider break and on Turnpike South. He hit the gas pedal as soon as he had straightened his car.
“We joining Major Ken?” Joe asked.
“No, I want to get to a rest area,” Frank said.
“Don’t tell me you have to use the restrooms,” Joe laughed.
“I haven’t had my large coffee today, so no,” Frank grinned, “but the plan to stop the Renegade Squadron has just popped in my head.”