Rose City Free Fall

by DL Barbur

  I pictured the girl I’d hauled out of the van. They were saying she was working some kind of overseas job and was just being transported by Cascade. By their warped point of view, it was even true, sort of.

  “Additionally, we recovered six other bodies, all of which were burned. Through forensic analysis, we’ve managed to identify two of them. The first is Ibrim Al Mohammad. The second is Fayed Bin Mussalli. Both men are known to the intelligence services of the United States to be members of Islamofascist groups dedicated to committing acts of violence against American interests. We are still working to identify the other subjects.”

  “The inevitable conclusion is that these men were engaged in a terrorist attack on American soil. Why they chose Cascade Aviation, in particular, is part of our ongoing investigation.”

  There was a whine in my ears that I recognized as my blood pressure heading for the stratosphere. My hands were clenched so hard I was in danger of popping a stitch in my arm. I tried to make myself relax.

  The press conference continued. The reporters asked the predictable questions. Wheedon gave the usual answers, doing an excellent job of saying nothing with the maximum number of words possible.

  Alex looked at me, wide-eyed. “What the hell is going on?”

  “Todd and his friends at Cascade aviation were exporting American women to the Middle East and bringing Middle Eastern men to the United States, maybe so the CIA could interrogate them, maybe for… what? Who the hell knows? Anyway, we blew the lid off their little operation, but somebody has enough clout to screw with the investigation enough to get it declared a terrorist attack. It wouldn’t be the first time an FBI investigation has turned up exactly what somebody wanted it to.”

  She chewed on that for a minute. The press conference ended and after a few minutes of vapid analysis, the radio station went back to its regular programming.

  Alex shut it off. “How many prisoners were there on the plane?” She asked.

  “Five, six. I’m not sure.” We had discussed the raid.

  I’d left out some of the details, but she’d hammered me pretty hard to pin down facts about where her dad had been when I’d last seen him, where everybody had been positioned. She didn’t seem to blame me for not knowing whether Al had made it out or not. I wanted that to make it easier not to blame myself, but it wasn’t working out that way.

  She nodded, satisfied by that. “Then that accounts for all the unidentified bodies.” She left unspoken that she was assuming that her father wasn’t one of the burned corpses.

  I wasn’t so sure. The report said five members of the aircrew had been killed. I counted in my head: the guy on the ramp; the two guys trying to break out the side door; the guy getting his ass kicked by the prisoners; and the guy on the flight deck stairs. That made five. The problem with that math was that the two guys trying to break out the side door had been alive the last time I’d seen them, and perfectly capable of making it out the door of the plane.

  Or maybe they had made it out, and maybe they’d been killed to tie up loose ends. They could blow holes in the “Middle Eastern Terrorist Attack” theory. Maybe Al was in that group too. If they could screw with the reality of what happened, they could screw with the body count too.

  But I didn’t say anything to Alex about that. Either Al was alive or he wasn’t. Time would tell.

  That night Alex went shopping. She managed to find me some clothes, and another pair of shoes to replace my melted boots. She walked up to a restaurant in town and called a cab from there. We’d taken one look at the inside of the rental car and nixed the idea of driving it. The inside was covered with blood, more than we could hope to clean up or cover up. So in addition to our other problem, we needed wheels.

  I sat on the couch the whole time she was gone, shotgun on my lap. I kept telling myself that everything was fine, that there was no way Todd’s people could have tracked us down to Lincoln City. They were probably still reeling and doing damage control.

  But I was still relieved when she walked back in the door, carrying my clothes, fresh groceries and some takeout from a restaurant in town. She hadn’t been able to find one thing I’d really wanted: a pair of pay as you go cellular phones. The beach house had a landline and Alex still had her cell phone but I didn’t want to use those if we didn’t have to.

  We ate dinner that night, and I knew things had changed. The last day and a half had been almost like a little vacation. Alex and I had been hanging out, enjoying each other, making love, playing board games, reading next to each other on the couch, trying to keep our worries at arm’s length. That wasn’t going to last much longer.

  After dinner, we went for a short walk on the beach. I made it about a hundred yards and had to sit down. I was still weak and my feet hurt from the burns. As I hobbled back to the house, I tried not to think about what would happen if Todd’s people found us and we had to fight.

  We were both quiet and subdued when we went to bed that night.

  “We need to figure something out tomorrow,” she said.

  “I know.”

  I stared at the ceiling for most of the night, trying to figure out what that might be.

  I cooked breakfast the next morning. This was going to be our last day of domestic bliss, and I intended to make the most of it. I was just sliding the scrambled eggs out of the skillet when the doorbell rang.

  I turned the stove off and grabbed the shotgun from where I had leaned it in the corner by the china hutch. My Glock was stuffed in the back of my pants. Alex came out of the bathroom, her H&K in her hand.

  I handed her the shotgun. My left hand was still too week for me to trust it with racking the shotgun. I looked out the window beside the door. A bored-looking kid in a Fed-Ex outfit stood on the porch, holding a package and cracking his gum.

  A Fed-Ex guy. That was about the most common ruse to get somebody you wanted to come to the door. I’d used it myself more than a few times, although my real favorite was a mini-van with a “Lottery Prize Committee” magnetic sign and a bunch of balloons.

  Alex stood in the corner of the living room with the shotgun. I stood to one side of the door.

  “How can I help you?” I said through the door.

  “Delivery for Pace.” The kid sounded bored as hell. I replayed the image of him I’d seen. Maybe early twenties, if not younger, long stringy hair. Acne. If he’d been a guy in his early to mid-thirties with a high and tight hair cut I wouldn’t have even answered, or I would have considered putting a round through the door.

  “Who from?”

  There was a pause as if he had to sound the words out for himself.

  “Sez it’s from an Al Pace. Look, can I get you to sign for this, I have some more deliveries to make before I go to class.”

  From Al. Maybe.

  “Can I get you to leave it on the porch? I’m not dressed.”

  “You have to sign for all Fed-Ex packages.” Asshole. The kid didn’t say it but I could practically hear him thinking it.

  “Ok. Hang on a sec, I’m not dressed.” I gave that a second to sink in and create the impression that it would be a while before I would open the door, then immediately opened the door.

  The kid jumped back in surprise. I looked at his hands first: a package and one of those electronic clipboard thingies they use these days. Then I looked around behind him. Nothing. Nobody moving. Nothing but a FedEx minivan.

  The kid looked me up and down, saw that I was fully dressed and then looked at me like I was crazy. He thrust the clipboard forward.

  I signed and he gave me the package, a cardboard mailer about the size of a hardcover book and not very heavy. The shipping label looked legit.

  “Have a good ‘un,” he muttered and took off.

  There was still a possibility that he was a legit Fed-Ex guy, but that the package wasn’t. Alex started to walk forward and I motioned her back. I stepped in the kitchen, took a deep breath and opened the package.

  Instead of an explos
ion, I got a TracPhone and a copy of Where the Wild Things Are.

  I realized Alex was peeking around the corner. She walked in and grabbed the phone.

  “That was my favorite book when I was a kid,” she said. She turned the phone on.

  “There’s a number programmed in.” She punched it. There were a few seconds of silence.

  “Daddy?”

  Then she started crying.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  I listened to Alex talk to her dad for a couple of minutes. The conversation mostly consisted of her asking him over and over again if he was OK and alternately crying and laughing. It wasn’t until she handed the phone to me that I realized I was crying a little too.

  “Dent, are you taking good care of my daughter?” His voice sounded a little rough, but it was the same old Al.

  That question stopped me cold for a second, as I reviewed some of the last two days’ activities in my mind. I swallowed.

  “Uh, yeah,” I said.

  “Good. I’m glad she was with you. Listen, have you heard any of the press on this?”

  “Yeah. I caught Wheedon’s press conference.”

  “I don’t have to tell you this thing blew up in our faces, but the bottom line is, those girls are safe.”

  I breathed out a breath. At least it hadn’t all been for nothing.

  “Good. How’s everybody else?”

  “Bolle, Eddie and myself have some bumps and bruises, but we’ll live.”

  “What about Todd? What about the cops?”

  “Marshall has Todd on a tight leash and the FBI is doing what they are told. Everybody seems to find the story that this is a terrorist attack very convenient right now. There is no heat that I can tell. We’re all clean of surveillance. I sent the phone to you that way because I figured you wouldn’t use it unless it looked like I’d taken some basic precautions.”

  You got that right, I thought.

  “So where do we go now?” I asked.

  “This thing with Cascade is going to take time to develop. Bolle is flying cover for us. I’m actually a little worried about you personally.”

  “How’s that?”

  “The Bureau is having a review hearing for you at 1300 this afternoon. If you don’t show up they’re going to fire you,” Al said.

  “Al, I got framed up, tasered and arrested. I’m getting fired no matter what.”

  The thought of going back to my job at the Police Bureau seemed ludicrous right now. It seemed like it had been a lifetime since I had been a homicide detective. I guess if I did go back, I’d have a unique perspective on people who tried to cover up homicides.

  “Look,” Al said. “The word is that they are willing to settle with you, let you resign. The Bureau has been gun shy about this whole thing ever since Mandy woke up and fingered Marshall as the guy who attacked her. You’re not going to be able to keep your job, but you don’t have to walk out with your hat in your hand either. I’ve got a lawyer here standing by, he’s a good guy. You need to come in.”

  I looked at my watch.

  “The only car we’ve got is covered in blood.” I looked down at myself. “And right now I’m wearing a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt with a cute little sea otter on it.”

  “Eddie is on his way already. He can get you to your house, get you changed and on your way to the meeting with time to spare. He’ll be there in an hour and a half.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. It was Al. “Ok.”

  “I’ll meet you at your house.” Al clicked off.

  “Eddie will be here in about an hour and a half to take us back to Portland so I can be officially unemployed,” I said to Alex.

  “Well, come here then. I’ve got a job that will last you until he gets here.” She grabbed my hand and dragged me towards the bedroom.

  When Big Eddie showed up, he was as nattily attired as ever, this time in a dove gray double-breasted suit. The only thing ruining his image was the big bandage on the back of his neck.

  “Got a little sunburn,” was all he would say when I asked about it.

  Sooner or later, we would all have to give our accounts of the aftermath of the disaster in the airplane. But not today. Eddie was driving the blandest looking late model minivan possible. I enjoyed sitting in the middle seat, holding Alex’s hand and watching the scenery roll by.

  The drive through the Coast Range was nice anytime. The mountains looked magical, otherworldly that day as they poked out of the fog. The forests looked like they had to hold some kind of secret. I realized it had been a long time since I’d been camping or hiking. Audrey had never liked to go much.

  I looked over to Alex with new appreciation, thinking she’d probably be up for a little hiking and camping. Cool.

  All too soon we were back in Portland, and pulling up to my house. Al’s car was parked out front. He was the only other person that had a key to the place. Alex and I got out of the van. Eddie stayed behind the wheel. As we were getting out, he looked at his watch.

  “Tick tock, man,” he said.

  “Yeah, I know.” I was going to have to hurry.

  Al was waiting by the door when we walked in. He wrapped Alex up in a big hug before letting go of her and shaking my hand. Then he did a sort of double take, looked from me to her, and somehow I knew that he knew. I felt myself blush again.

  But he just grabbed her with one arm and me with another and hugged us both. I felt my eyes tear up again.

  “It’s good to see you two. Especially together.” I didn’t know what to say to that.

  He looked at me. “You need to get ready, my friend.”

  I left them in my living room, such as it was. Alex was nice and didn’t say anything about its barrenness. I made a mental note to buy some furniture.

  As I shaved, I ran the numbers in my head. I’d checked all my accounts right before everything went to hell. I had enough money to live off of for a couple, three years, maybe more if I played it cool and stuck with bologna sandwiches. I could go back to school, open a bar, something like that.

  I normally wasn’t much of a clothes guy, but every year I went to one of those men’s stores with a few hundred bucks and had them set me up with a pair of new suits, shirts and ties and such. I kept four suits around, and every time I bought something new, I’d retire the oldest pair to Goodwill. It kept me looking good for court. I had no fashion sense, but I knew that showing up to testify in last decade’s lime green leisure suit wasn’t a good way to build respect from a jury.

  As I knotted my tie, I thought about how things had changed. A month ago the thought of being unemployed and having to burn through my life’s savings would have given me heart palpitations. Now I was just looking forward to some time off. Maybe I could talk Alex into going camping with me. It was the rainy season, but that was what snuggling up in tents was for.

  I checked myself in a mirror. I looked good. I had a bad moment when I realized I wouldn’t be able to carry a weapon into the meeting, but I shoved it out of my mind. Al had shown every intention of coming, and Eddie would be driving. I knew they would both be packing heat.

  There was another guy in the living room when I came out. Young guy, mid-thirties wearing a suit, with an expensive-looking haircut and an even more expensive looking briefcase. He looked pretty yuppie except for the long scar down one side of his face. Al introduced him.

  “Hamilton Yost. Formerly of the US Navy, now of the Oregon Bar.”

  Interesting. Whatever Mr. Yost had done in the Navy, it probably wasn’t chipping paint by the look of him. We walked out to the van. Al and Yost rode in the back.

  Yost talked to me as we went, talking about evidence procedures, arbitration, union contracts. I listened, mostly. I nodded at the right places and tried to sound intelligent, but it was hard to focus. For one thing, I was still exhausted, more mentally than physically. I was looking forward to sleeping for a week. For another thing, I just wanted it done. I wanted to go home, buy furniture for my house, play my
guitars, hang out with Alex.

  It didn’t seem to take very long to get to Central precinct, or maybe it was just because I’d zoned out for half the trip. Eddie pulled up into the loading zone in front and Yost, Al, Alex and I all got out.

  Alex linked arms with her dad. “I’m going to take this old fart out for a cup of coffee. We’ll meet you when you’re done.” She dropped the Tracphone into my hand, kissed me on the lips and walked off with her dad.

  Yost stared at her a little as she walked away, but hell, I couldn’t blame him. He caught himself and turned to me.

  “You ready?”

  “Let’s do it.” I motioned for him to go ahead.

  I walked into Central Precinct for what I figured would be the last time. We had to spend 1% of all building costs for art in the city of Portland. The Central Precinct lobby’s nod to the arts was some glass things that looked like upside-down mixing bowls. I saw the two deep cracks running along the marble floor where the records department had tried to save a couple of bucks by moving a giant, fireproof safe themselves.

  I usually took the stairs, but this time we took the elevator to save some wear and tear on my feet. Lubbock, Winter, and the same HR guy from last time were all waiting for us in the conference room. They looked like they hadn’t moved since the last time I’d been here.

  Lubbock looked tired, and pale, almost like he was ill. Yost set his briefcase down on the table and Lubbock jumped. I wondered what the hell had gotten into him.

  I sat down and we all just looked at each other for a minute. I was surprised to see Lubbock. Usually, if somebody was fired, it was done by at least a captain or commander, maybe even a deputy chief, maybe even more than one, if you were unpopular and everybody wanted to get in on the feeding frenzy.