DEAD MAN'S JUSTICE - A Place of Evil (Stone & McLeish Thriller Series of Stories Book 2) (24 page)

Chapter 54

Nothing had prepared Brad Stone for the test of resolve and resilience that he would need to deal with the dread of knowing his daughter was missing, maybe even abducted at the hands of evil persons. The wickedness and the iniquity of the stalker and her sinful acts in
Trinidad had somehow conditioned him in a way that he never thought possible; he had developed nerves of steel in the process. He wasn’t prepared to sit back and let the authorities lead the search; irrespective of the trust and respect he had for Finch, and even Ramirez, since the revelation that he too had to endure malevolent threats.

Stone’s background was in construction, from university to progressing up the management ladder on site around the U.S. and then overseas. Sure, he’d had to deal with difficult and angry workers and colleagues, even members of the public who were disgruntled when their land and access had been cut off. One guy stormed into his office one day and threatened to kill him. He was in such a rage saying ‘he’d done time and wouldn't think twice about doing him’. The guy had had vehicular access to the back of his cafe for years and when Stone had to brick up a wall cutting off that access, he saw red and confronted Stone threatening to ‘chop him’ and telling him that he would ‘strike when he least expected it’. Stone took his threats and insults till he could take no more, he retaliated loudly and called his bluff, the guy left the office and he never saw him again. The higher you go on the management ladder, the harder it is to stay there. It becomes a ‘them and us’ situation. Above you are the bosses who demand the earth, ask for superhuman performance and feed you bullshit and fiddle the figures behind your back. Below you your junior staff expect maximum reward for minimum effort and are easily influenced by rival managers. One such deputy of Stone’s plotted behind his back, poisoned his reputation, and turned his whole site team against him. The guy was an alcoholic who flouted authority, bent the rules and was astounded when Stone, who had developed the toughness to deal with such characters, slapped him down and fired him on the spot. The guy was still plotting against him after leaving the site.

Mac thrived on action. He saw a lot of it in Trinidad with Stone when they were least expecting it, but he took that in his stride since his career, up until going into business with Stone, was as an army officer. After university, where he studied engineering, he wanted to see the world and he thought the army would be the best place to achieve that. He was right, he saw the world and he saw plenty of action as well. When he and Stone met they were in
Iraq, post the second Gulf war. They forged a professional and personal relationship that had weathered many dangerous situations. Having decided to lead a quieter life, they still continued to encounter danger.

Stone hadn’t heard from Mac since they split up after collecting the Porsche. They had, at times, a telepathic connection and he was just starting to get concerned that they hadn’t spoken when his cell phone rang.

It was Mac.

Stone was at the precinct with Finch. Finch had asked Tariq to check the vehicle plate for the Esplanade they saw Laura getting into on the security footage, 002MLF. They were also waiting for the CSI team to report back from the hotel room where Mac had been earlier.

‘Mate any news on Laura? Is there anything I can do?’ Mac wondered how Stone was coping with the situation and although he had his own mission, wanted to help desperately.

‘Not good Mac. We’re pretty sure she’s been abducted like the other girls. I found the address of where she was supposed to meet someone at a Hotel over in Manhattan. When we asked around the doorman said he’d seen her in the lobby and then we saw her on a security DVD getting into a big black SUV. She never arrived at the TV studios and she hasn’t called since, so it can only mean one thing Mac. She’s been taken, for what, I’ve no idea.’

‘God mate. You got any leads? Anything?’

‘Finch took the plate number down and Tariq’s running it now but...it doesn’t look good, when I get my hands on them mate...’ Mac could hear Finch in the background saying
‘We’ll get them Stone, don’t worry.’
Stone asked, ‘Where are you Mac?’

‘On my way to an address I got for the bomber. Got his photo from the desk manager, they record everyone in and out and whoever ordered the hit was stupid enough to pay for the room by credit card. The guy got the address of the card holder for me, don’t tell Finch but I’m on my way there right now.’

Stone shielded the mouthpiece with his hand, ‘Mac, what are you doing, I told you no Bourne stuff, tell me where it is and we’ll...’

‘Look mate, you’ve got enough to worry about, you just concentrate on finding Laura. If I can’t handle it I’ll call you okay? That’s a promise.’

‘You’d better.’

‘Did CSI come up with anything from the room? I haven’t heard back from anyone. And they should have the photo of the bomber as well.’

Stone handed the phone to Finch and repeated the question to him.

Finch said, ‘Mac? The room was as clean as a whistle, not a print anywhere, someone had moved the furniture around a little and CSI lifted some shoe impressions... but they might be yours or anyone’s. They said it smacked of a professional hit. What did you get anything?’

Mac didn’t want to lie to Finch but he wanted something more concrete before he troubled him, he knew the hunt for Laura and the other girls was rightly taking priority, ‘Nothing much, I’m still asking around, you know.’

Finch handed the phone back to Stone who told Mac again not to go it alone, and rang off.

No sooner had Stone put his cell phone down when it rang again. It was Sandra Randall; she’d been watching the TV reports about the missing schoolgirls and was horrified to learn that the fifth girl was Laura Stone.

The headline on the screen read
‘RAINBOW KILLER?’
The reporter speculated salaciously that there would eventually be seven girls abducted and although there were no deaths reported yet, or any real evidence of abductions, the reporter played upon the fact that each of the five girls were from different ethnic origins, hence the tabloid like headline.

Fortunately Stone had not seen the report.

Stone hadn’t spoken to Sandra Randall since that day in her apartment before the safety deposit box fiasco and before Bloom’s murder.

He picked up.

‘Brad?’

‘Sandra, I’m sorry I haven’t called you before now I’m...’

‘I know Brad. No matter, I know you have more important things on your mind. I saw the reports today. I’m so sorry Brad, I know you’ll get her, and get the bastards who took her too.’

‘That’s what I’m doing Sandra. I’m a little busy at the moment...’

‘I won’t keep you. Do you think it’s that Shadowy man or that woman Rachel?’

‘No. Weren’t you told? When the police brought you the money? They’re dead Sandra. Rachel shot Shadow, we don't know what for exactly, then when she was leaving his office he shot her in the back. I thought you knew. You know about Bloom don’t you?’

‘Yes. They told me about Bloom but not the others. So who do you think is behind this...?’

‘We’re not sure, we’re getting closer,’ Stone wasn’t exactly telling the truth. They didn’t have much to go on at all.

‘And the other poor young girls, it’s dreadful, I’ll pray for her Brad, for Laura.’

Stone didn’t know what else to say to her, she didn’t mention anything about Alfredo, perhaps she hadn’t heard about him yet. It seemed like everyone he had come into contact with since leaving Trinidad was ending up dead.

Killed, one by one.

Whilst Stone was on the phone to Mrs. Randall Tariq had traced the number plate from the SUV at the hotel and he told Finch that the owner was a man called Maloof, of Maloof Enterprises. Finch decided to keep the information close to his chest until he knew a little more about the owner. If he told Stone he would only become even more frustrated, he told Tariq to try to get an address or something they could work with.

Finch could only imagine the terror and anxiety that Stone was going through knowing his daughter had probably been abducted just like the other missing girls.

Chapter 55

Fazeel Aziz collected the five Saudi businessmen from the charter area of the airport and as instructed drove them over to Maloof’s warehouse set up. After dropping them off he was then told report back to Abdul (Scarface) at the apartment.

Scarface was also at the airport to pick up Jamil Bashir. Jamil was in a relaxed mood after a very entertaining day at Maloof’s beachfront residence in the
Bahamas. The deal had been signed and he stood to be wealthier to the tune of ten million dollars when he could get back to Washington to bank Maloof’s check. Knowing that he would be spending a couple of days in the Big Apple he had arranged to meet his long time girlfriend for dinner that night. Jamil didn’t show up at dinner and she could not reach him on his cell phone.

Maloof’s house was on the west side in the wealthy suburb of
Chelsea.

When Scarface accompanied Jamil into the house he carried his bags into the living room, he ushered him into the room and stepped behind. Abdul always found the appropriate method of disposal on behalf of his employer, there wouldn't be any mess, no witnesses and no noise. Scarface was taller, stronger and devoid of any emotion whatsoever.

Jamil felt an arm around his neck, he thought the driver was playing a silly game but he couldn't shout out, he couldn’t speak at all and although he tried, he was not able to escape from the vice-like grip of Scarface’s arm.

It wasn’t a game.

His breathing was cut off and within seconds panic, and a very real sense that he was about to die, filled him with pure and absolute terror.

The pressure that was exerted on his throat was unrelenting. Scarface had superior strength and a clinical technique. Jamil’s feet were off the floor and his arms were flailing uselessly by his side, life was draining out of him. His vision became cloudy; his legs began to feel light and weak and eventually stopped twitching.

Darkness befell his eyes permanently.

Scarface waited for the moment when Jamil’s body went limp. He released his arm from around his neck and let the body fall heavily to the floor. He could safely leave it, he thought, and remove it later when Fazeel was finished and was ready to assist him with the removal of the body.

Scarface always saw through his instructions to the letter, he remembered to search Jamil’s pockets and found the check for $10m that Maloof had given him for facilitating the arms deal.

Scarface lit a match and reduced it to ashes.

Mac found the street and even though he spotted the house by counting down until he saw the house number written on the note given to him by the desk manager, he drove on by without slowing down or speeding up. He parked up around the corner and walked back to the house on the other side of the road.

He stopped directly across from the two story house, set back from the sidewalk, and pretended to be making a phone call. It gave him time to check to see if there were any signs of life or activity in the house. There were no cars on the double width driveway, and he could see no security cameras and although he couldn't know for sure, thought there was no one else at home. He had to take a risk, he thought, he needed to get into the house to find out more about the bomber and who ordered the hit. He also couldn't wait around all day, he decided to move. He crossed the road and walked confidently up the drive and instead of going to the front door he veered to the right and came across a six-foot-high side gate. He made a quick turn to see if anyone was watching, there were some parked cars in the road but they and the houses on the other side looked equally quiet, so he tried the handle. He was in luck, it was open. He went through the gate and closed it behind him.

What Mac didn’t see,  because they were professionals and careful not to be seen, was a Chevy Impala parked a little way down the road with two FBI agents inside, staking out the house.

Mac had to be extremely diligent, he knew that he must not leave any prints or tracks, either from his hands or his shoes; he pulled a pair of leather gloves and stayed on the concrete path. This no army mission; he had no back-up and no weapon, he thought, should he run into trouble he would be on his own. Mac recalled the last maxim for being on a covert operation. Do nothing to attract attention, make no noise and switch off any equipment that might make a noise. He put his cell phone on silent.

He looked around the back of the house for a door or window that had the smallest panes. There was a door that opened into the kitchen and the side window was small and close to the door handle and lock. He turned his face away and with one sharp jab of his elbow, shattered the glass. He was in luck again, no alarm sounded, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t movement sensors of some kind inside the property. Mac reached his arm inside through the jagged gap and fumbled round for a key or bolt. He found the key and unlocked the door. He looked around to make sure he wasn’t being watched, a bit late now he thought, but he was satisfied that no windows overlooked the side of the house and that the breaking glass had not been heard. The nearest house was fifty feet away and there was a line of tall trees between the properties that would have absorbed the noise. The handle turned and the door creaked opened.

Mac was inside the house.

He stood with his back to the door and listened for any sounds within the house. There was nothing. Treading carefully and taking care not to disturb the furniture, Mac saw two open doors. He could see that one door led to a dining room and that the other to a hallway. He took the hallway door and entered a wide hall from which a staircase wound its way up to the first floor. Opposite to the kitchen was a set of double doors, which were slightly ajar. To his left were the main entrance doors and next to the kitchen he could see a dining room with a connecting door to it. After assessing the situation Mac thought that, should the need arise, the best means of escape would be back out through the kitchen.

Mac’s army training and experience in the field kicked in, when searching an unknown building, especially at nigh
t, the MO was, ‘Choose a secluded entry, get in, assess the layout, define the best escape route, do the business quietly and efficiently, and get out.’

He was looking for any papers or documents that would give a clue as to the owner of the house, or their business. The order to kill him and Stone in the Deli blast had come from someone connected with this property.

Mac proceeded cautiously and pushed the lounge door but something was stopping it opening fully. Each time he pushed it he heard a thud. He peered around the gap in the doors.

That was when he saw the man’s body lying on the floor. Mac squeezed through the gap and bent down to feel for the man’s pulse. His body was still quite warm to the touch but he was very much dead. The man appeared to be around thirty years old and of Middle East extraction. His eyes were still open, staring out into nothing. The man was wearing an overcoat over a summer shirt that was open at the neck, and Mac could see signs of trauma around the man’s throat area. For once he didn’t have his Nikon with him, it was too bulky for such a mission, so he took a shot of the man’s face with his Nokia.

A suitcase stood by the door and the baggage label attached to the handle read NAS, which Mac recognized as
Nassau airport in the Bahamas. Mac wondered why the label hadn’t been changed if he was now back in the US, he came to the conclusion that he must have come back another way.

Lying on the floor between the suitcase and the body was another broken toothpick shaped into a triangle. Someone’s been careless again, he thought, there was a connection between the bomber and the dead guy. Either he was the bomber or he was killed by him.

He needed to find what he was looking for, and quick. He’d had enough of being drawn into the Randall, Bloom and Shadow affairs, so he tried to put the body out of his mind. He didn’t want to get mixed up in yet another murder.

The presence of a dead body and the toothpick, confirmed to Mac that he was in the right house. He made a mental note to call it in and to send the photo to Finch as soon as he was finished.

He didn’t get a chance.

The sound of a car pulling onto the drive stopped Mac in his tracks; he heard a rumbling noise and realized it was the up and over garage door opening. He moved over to the window and carefully glanced around with one eye just in time to see the back of a black SUV disappear into the garage.

Mac figured he had thirty seconds max to get out of the lounge and find somewhere to hide. He also prayed they didn’t go into the kitchen, they would see the broken window for sure.

He pushed past the body, through the double doors and hid in the dining room.

He heard more than one sets of footsteps.

Two men entered the house, Mac heard a door close, their voices grew louder, and he recognized that they were speaking Arabic to each other. Mac held his breath, they were certain to be armed and he had nothing to defend himself with. He scoured around the room but saw nothing of any use. If they came into the dining room, he was finished, he thought. They had killed once and would probably not hesitate to kill again.

The men must have gone straight to the lounge, Mac listened into their conversation. After three years in the Middle East he couldn't speak the language, but he would pick up a word or two.

He took a risk and opened the dining room door and cocked an ear to listen in. He picked up
‘yahrouq’
which means ‘burn’,
‘jasad’
, which means ‘body’ and
‘moustawdaa’
which is a warehouse. In his daily life patrolling, searching and sweeping derelict buildings in the bombed out areas of Baghdad he’d heard his Iraqi translator say these words many times.

There was a sound like a heavy sack being dragged across the carpet, he squinted through the crack in the door and saw the two guys pulling the body along the floor towards the access door to the garage. He could see that they still hadn’t closed the dead man’s eyes. Mac had thought about doing it but was careful not to leave any evidence of his presence at all. He wished he had now out of respect. Mac leant back, he didn’t want to be seen, but he took one more look and caught a glimpse of one of the men. It was the bomber, he was sure of it, he didn’t need to look at the photo he had in his pocket. The man had a scar on his left cheek.

Now wasn’t the time for heroics, he remembered what Stone had told him, it was pointless trying to apprehend him, there were two of them and they had to be armed. Mac stayed where he was until he heard the car start to reverse out of the garage and off of the drive, he ran to the lounge and took a note of the plate number. If he understood their conversation correctly, they were taking the body away to be burnt.

He could now move around more freely and stepped into the hall. There was one more door off the hallway that he hadn’t yet checked out. He opened it. It was an office; there was a desk with a swivel chair in front of it, and a filing cabinet to one side. Opposite the desk was a stack of shelves containing Government books on Politics, Law and Reports and Inventories of Weapons and Arms. Mac took one down and flicked through one of the books. There were pages and pages of military equipment, munitions and even aircraft. He put the report back exactly where he had got it from and adjusted the spine so it was in line with the others. He turned his attention back to the desk.

Next to the computer monitor was a stack of papers, bills and receipts, but no ordinary receipts. They were for arms. He noticed the same address cropping up on a lot of the papers and he lined them up side by side to check it was the same. It was the address of a building; it was a warehouse, just like the two guys were talking about. In each case above the address he saw a name, he had no idea whether it was significant or not or whether he’d heard it before.

‘Maloof Enterprises.’