Hell's Corner

CHAPTER 70

^“You don’t think the shooter is still in the building, do you?” said Chapman as they reached the entrance and ripped the doors open. Stone had ordered one cop to guard the front of the building and the other the rear.

Stone didn’t answer. He held up his badge to the security guard who approached them. “You have a possible sniper in this building. Did you see anyone come in today who looked suspicious or who was carrying an unusually shaped bag?”

The guard shook his head. “No one like that. But I just finished making my rounds, so someone might have slipped in then.”

Stone said, “The FBI is on the way. What other exits do you have here beside the lobby?”

“This way.” He led them to a door off the lobby. “Down that hall and to the right. Takes you to the loading dock in the rear.”

As they started off the man said, “You want me to go with you?”

“No, stay here. There’s a police officer posted out front. Anything happens you get to him.”

“Okay, good luck.”

Stone and Chapman darted through the door and down the hall. They had only gone about twenty feet when she grabbed his arm.

“What?” he said.

“That security guard?”

“What about him?”

“Do they normally wear gloves?”

Stone flinched, wheeled around and sprinted back the way they had come.

The door was locked now. Chapman shot the handle off and kicked it open. They rushed back into the lobby. There was no sign of the guard.

Outside the cop told them that the man had come out and headed into the alley.

“He said you told him to help secure the rear of the building and—”

Chapman and Stone ran off before he finished.

They found the security guard’s uniform next to a Dumpster. Stone and Chapman peered around.

“He can’t be more than a few seconds ahead of us,” she whispered.

“Thanks to you,” said Stone. “If you hadn’t figured out—”

She hit him hard, knocking him down an instant before the round slammed into the side of the Dumpster at the spot where Stone’s head had just been. Chapman rolled, took aim and fired. Her shots chipped concrete off the side of the building, but the shooter was already gone.

Stone had rolled over on his belly and had his gun aimed at the same spot.

“See anything?” he hissed.

She shook her head. “He’s gone.”

The cop from the front, obviously having heard the shots, came running.

“Stay down,” exclaimed Chapman, and the cop went to his knees and then scuttled forward until he was behind the Dumpster too.

“Backup’s here,” he said. “You guys okay?”

Stone sat up and looked at Chapman. “Thanks to her I am.”

Chapman shrugged. “More luck than skill, really.”

“I’ll take it. That slug was going right for my head.”

The three of them made their way cautiously down the alley. They picked up their pace when they heard the car race off. By the time they got to the next intersection, there was no sign of a vehicle or the shooter. Stone and Chapman ran down the alley and then slowly jogged back.

They both stopped when they reached the cop.

He was squatting over his partner, who was lying behind some trash cans with his throat slit, his eyes staring blankly up.

As they knelt over the body, Chapman said, “There must have been more than one guy. He wouldn’t have had time to shoot at us and then do this.”

“He had backup of his own,” said Stone quietly, as the cop sat on his haunches wiping tears from his eyes over the death of his partner.

“These guys are unbelievably organized,” said Chapman. “I mean, who the hell are they?”

Stone put a hand on the shoulder of the cop. “I’m sorry.”

The officer glanced up and nodded and then returned to staring at his dead colleague.

Stone straightened, turned and walked back down the alley as the wail of sirens reached fever pitch.

George Sykes, a D.C. police officer and a security guard were dead. They’d found the real security guard in a storage room of the lobby with a single gunshot wound burned into his forehead.

The sniper had disappeared.

Stone had given descriptions of him to Ashburn and a BOLO had gone out, but none of them were holding out much hope. The consensus was that the killer was either laying low or already on private wings heading out of the country.

Stone and Chapman were now in a car sitting outside the modest residence of George Sykes, located in Silver Spring, Maryland. It was in the middle of an ordinary neighborhood with kids on bikes, moms talking in front yards and dads cutting the grass. Or it would have been if the street hadn’t been evacuated and then shut down by the FBI.

Agent Ashburn was in the front passenger seat while another agent was at the wheel.

“What do we know about him?” Stone asked.

“Wife died three years ago. Kids all grown and gone. Been with the National Park Service his entire career. No problems.”

“And six grandchildren,” said Stone. He glanced down at the man’s file. “He’s not much older than me. He must have started early.”

“Money problems?” Chapman asked.

Ashburn nodded. “That was one of the first things we looked at. Didn’t find anything there. But we dug a little deeper and shook out an account that was tied to Sykes. Recent deposit of a hundred thou.”

“So someone paid him off to play along.”

Stone said, “What exactly did they pay him for?”

Ashburn answered. “Bomb in the root ball. What if someone started to poke around there? He would steer them clear. Make sure wherever the bomb was in the dirt that no one got close to it.”

“So he betrayed his country for a hundred thousand dollars?” said Stone. “A grandfather of six?”

Ashburn shrugged. “I’ve seen people do it for a lot less. And six grandchildren eat a lot.”

Chapman added, “And that might’ve only been the first payment.”

“Right,” said Ashburn. “And they made sure the only payment. MO is consistent. They’re eliminating their team, closing up the tunnel. So no leads for us.”

“The sniper took a risk by impersonating a guard,” noted Stone. “We saw his face.”

“But like we concluded, the guy is long gone. And six months from now he’ll have a new face.”

“Lot of money behind this,” said Chapman. “That’s clear.”

Ashburn hiked her eyebrows. “Like a country’s treasury at work?”

“Russia,” said Chapman.

“I’ve heard that theory floated around more and more,” said Ashburn. “Cartel and government maybe working hand in hand. Tough competition.”

Stone nodded at Sykes’s house. “So what are we waiting for? We don’t need a warrant. The guy was shot. We can go to his house to investigate. He was a federal employee.”

Ashburn said, “That’s true, but considering that these folks employ bombs, I’ve sent for a bomb detection dog to go in before we do. That’s also why we’ve evacuated the neighborhood.”

The canine unit came and Stone watched as the dog methodically swept the yard and then entered the house through a back door opened by an FBI agent. Ten minutes later the search was complete and the all clear was given.

It didn’t take long to go through the house, but they found very little of help. As they walked back to their car Ashburn said, “We’ll send in a forensics team to give it a scrubdown, but I doubt it will yield much.”

“Still have to do it,” said Stone.

“Still have to,” agreed Ashburn.

“Has his family been notified?” asked Chapman.

“In the process. That’s another place that might get us somewhere.”

“He might have let something slip to a family member, you mean,” said Chapman.

“If we’re real lucky.”

“I’m not feeling that lucky,” said Stone.

Ashburn dropped them back at their car and they drove off. Chapman was at the wheel while Stone seemed lost in thought.

“What do you think?”

“I’m thinking how much more carnage before they yank Fuat Turkekul and make him talk.”

“So you think he’s really guilty?”

“I don’t have enough information to make that determination. But the status quo is not working for us.”

“What’s the alternative?”

“I haven’t thought of one yet.”

“So who might be the next target in the chain?”

“If Turkekul is involved?” Stone glanced at her.

Chapman said, “That’s what I was thinking too. And I know she’s your friend, but what about—”

“Adelphia is not part of this.”

“Are you really sure? By your admission she’s been out of your life for a while.”

Stone gazed at her and then put a hand on her shoulder. “How do you feel about breaking a few rules?”

“Until I met you, not too keen. But now I think I’m really getting good at it. So we’re going after Turkekul?”

“No,” said Stone.

“Who, then?”

“I can feel the other side leading us around again. They expect us to go left. Instead, this time we’re going to the right.”