July 19th, 1999. 9 P.M. to 10 P.M.

July 19th, 1999. 9 P.M. to 10 P.M.

         
Thomas Behn 9:00:00

        It was extremely humid tonight. I could feel the wind blowing against my face. Another assignment for the night, the final one before I can go home and relax for another day—at the bequest of the precinct, I graciously agreed to accompany one of the F.B.I.’s agent. His name was Alex Carthwright. He was all right, though not much for conversation.

        I placed my head back into the car and eyed him again: black suit, black tie, white shirt, he was a rudimentary man in black. Kind of dull, but what else have they been wearing these days?

        I took a deep breath before I tried striking another conversation, “So this Masterton guy, what exactly is he being held in for?”

        The man in black didn’t even turn his head to respond, “That’s classified information. I can’t tell you anymore than what I’ve already told.”

        “Right, right, I know.”

        I received little background on the case at hand—case-sensitive stuff from the F.B.I. that the local precincts shouldn't be made aware of anyways. The only reason I was accompanying him was because I was familiar with the area. It was a typical part of southside Chicago. I swear I could hear gunshots in the distance, but what F.B.I. had to do in such a crappy part of the city was something that caught my interest. Obviously it was none of my concern, so I should be the good little lap dog and just blindly follow instructions.

        “Where exactly are we going again?”

        The man in black took a look at his dashboard, as if interested in the speed we were going. I knew I was annoying him, but I had to get as much out of him as I could.

        “A house in southside Chicago. My superiors believe your knowledge of the area will be of importance.”

        What a load of bull.

Michael Min 9:03:14

         It was already a few minutes past nine and he still hadn’t called. He said he would call me at exactly 9 o’ clock to go over final details—the worst case scenario was totally implausible at this point—I just needed to show some patience. He would call of course, he was a professional, an expert on these sorts of deals, and he was someone I trusted, a rarity among the bloodsuckers and maniacs I usually surrounded myself with.

        I took a moment to collect myself and then looked at my watch again. I was meandering in my thoughts again. Be patient. Be patient. Be patient.

         The generic Cingular tone played in the distance, turning my impatience into anticipation. I read the name through my head as if it was the first time it ran through my mind—it’d been ages since I had seen that name: Qian Liu.

         “Qian?”

         A raspy voice came through the phone. Muffled with white noise and the sound of raging water, the familiar voice of Qian still came through. It was a relief to hear his voice again, but this call was merely business, and I knew this.

         “The times discussed are still in play. I’ll meet you at our discussed location by midnight. If I’m not there within half an hour of the meeting time then erase the statements and cancel any proposed deals. We’d have to silence this before anybody would have enough time to find us.”

         “All right. Are you there yet?”

         There was a slight pause over the phone before the raspy voice came through again, “Just about. I’ll call you when it’s done.”

         “Be careful…”

         He had already hung up.

Justin Burke 9:07:45

         Damn, the air was humid, even for a July night—another night, another assignment to follow. The orders were quite explicit, but like most clients, the reasoning behind the assignment was nothing short of vague. I accepted the assignment without hesitation. How the hell could I refuse when the pay was this good? Didn’t make sense in my mind anyways, but money was tight nowadays.

         I took a left on Chalmers and proceeded down the street. His house was somewhere nearby, and that was the only piece of info that I knew about the kid. A kid by the name of Michael Min: an arrested techie turned freelance computer technician. My initial instincts told me that he started to poke his nose at more sensitive intel.

         My phone began to ring again. It was the fourth time in nearly 2 hours.
         “Is there anything else you want?”

         “Mr. Watson requests your progress on your assignment so far.”

         “Nothing yet. I’ve barely made it to his place, let alone, had a good look at the kid. Gimme some more time.”

         I closed my phone and finally arrived at Michael’s place. My phone was ringing again.

Cameron Palmer 9:11:46

         “Robert! The District Director’s on line 2. Conference him, all right?”

         I could hear the muffled sounds of shuffling feet and rustling papers. He was new so I gave him some slack, but Logan was being a real hard-ass tonight, I wasn’t about to give him another reason to bitch at me.

         “Robert! Finish the damn paperwork later and conference him already.”

         “Yes Mrs. Palmer. Right away!”

         “Palmer. Palmer are you there?”

         He was already pissed off. Damn it. “Palmer. What is it sir?”

         “I’m sure you’ve already sent Carthwright to the Masterton house, right?”

         “Yes sir. We sent him with a cop from one of the precincts nearby. A Thomas Behn. We also have Conrad and Devlin questioning Dalton right now. He may still be able to provide us with some information.”

         “You questioned him for nearly a month now and nothing still.”

         Complete silence.

         “Alright, give me anything that those two happen to come up with. You’ll hear from me soon.”

         There was nothing I could say to him. Nearly a month, and neither Dalton or any of the leads he provided gave us anything substantial. Financial was the only other lead that we hadn’t exhausted yet, but even that didn’t seem at all useful. Still, what the hell could I do? Devlin and Conrad were doing all the work now. I just had to sit here and survive the blowback from every superior in the government.

Marcus Conrad 9:15:50

        I looked back at the witness: cool blond hair, navy blue Armani suit with matching tie, black Swiss dress shoes, and a confident and relaxed demeanor. The odds that this bastard actually knew something were pretty high, but we had no leverage over him. Bribing and torture were completely out of the question. The former being impossible for such a rich man, and the latter, no solid evidence to warrant the action. However, since the start of this entire investigation, I don’t think he was ever as nervous as he was now.

        “This financial angle might actually give us something.”

        Melissa gave a worried sigh before turning around to face me, “I don’t know Mark. He still seems rigid like before.”

        “He’s a bit worried now, he sweating a lot more than before. We need to press him harder this time if we want to see some results occur.”

        She gave a quick laugh and quickly skimmed through his files for the 30th time.

        “And what the hell would that be Mark? We’ve tried everything with this guy. We tried threatening him and bribing him, but he knows that we don’t have enough solid evidence to convict him of anything, and bribing him is completely useless against a millionaire.”

        Threats were never going to work against this guy—actual acts were another story. But I had to carefully talk my way into that scenario. I needed Melissa’s help to do it after all. It was the only way to take full advantage of the state that Norman was in.

        “What if I had a way, a more guaranteed approach?”

        “And what would that be?”

Thomas Behn 9:19:03

        “This is it.”

        We had arrived at the destination: a dilapidated house situated in the south side of Chicago. I could still hear the gunshots in the background, but shrugged them as the agent approached the house.

        “This is it. This used to be one of Norman’s main hideouts.”

        “Then what?”

        He looked at me, completely ignoring my question. “I’ll go inside. Just keep a look out here until I come back. If anything—”

        “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

        I headed back to the car and grabbed a cigarette. This whole night was a waste of time. There was no point in trying to put more strain on myself.

Marcus Conrad 9:23:01

         I knew she wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea from the start, but she was still willing to help me out. She was someone I could trust, but these situation were completely different. I was twisting her morals. I was taking a big risk, but the opportunity couldn’t be wasted, and she knew that much. Looking at the mirror though, I could tell she was having second thoughts. But there was no stopping now.

         The smug bastard looked at me and sighed. “Officer, I’ve already told you all that I know. I didn’t know anything about it then, and I still don’t know anything about it now.”

         I opened the case files and showed him the shipping plans for cargo coming out of China.

         “We have records of you doing business with known terrorists in China, Hong Kong, Japan, Korea, and several countries in southwest Asia. Cargo ships scheduled for arrival in Asia were tagged with your name—inside were large caches of automatic weapons and illegal explosives”

         The suspect quickly dismissed the papers, speaking in a calm and collected mood.

         “I’ve already sorted this out with the authorities. I had no idea that these ships were filled with weapons. I believe the perpetrators have already been captured and sent to jail.”

         “Perpetrators that have connections with the LTTE, New People’s Army, among others. And they all worked for your companies based in Southwest Asia.”

         He stared directly into the double mirror. That son of a bitch was immune to all this persecution, because in the end, none of the Asia connections led to him directly. The only people willing to testify against him were dead the next day—he was a powerful man, but only because he thought he was invincible.

         “Officer, am I supposed to keep track of—”

         I grabbed him the throat and pushed him towards the wall.

         “I’ve had enough of your excuses. Two months of your shady dealings and scare tactics. People are dead because of you.” I tightened my grip; I could see the sudden fear in his eyes. “Believe me, I’m done with you, and by this time tomorrow, you will tell who your contacts are. Understand?”

         I held him in place for another minute before letting him go. I went into the backroom and looked at Melissa’s reactions. She was a little shaken but all right.
                                                             
        Thank god.

Justin Burke 9:28:13

        The place was quiet now, and as I continued to stake out Michael’s area I quietly took note of the time. It was only 9:30—there was plenty of time left. I took my phone out and made another call.

        “David?”

        “Hey there. What’s going on?”

        I gave a quick scan of the area, noting the still quiet surrounding before responding, “Still at work. I just wanted to call and check up on you.”

        There was a throaty laugh over the phone, “Thanks a lot—the office handed these reports last minute so I have to sift through them for any inconsistencies—all fifty-six of them.”

        “Did you get a chance to talk with Smith?”

        “Which one? Allen, George, or Bill?”

        I didn’t know any of them, or at the very least, couldn’t attach a face with any of the names.

        “You okay Justin?”

        The apartment lights went out.

        “Yeah, I just forgot which one.”

        “Well, you’re probably talking about Allen anyway, and yes I did. He apologized for the last minute assignment, but there’s nothing he can do to extend the deadline—they’re due 7 A.M. tomorrow morning.”

        A woman emerged from the apartment.

        “All right. Well David, I have to get going, something just came up. I’ll call you up later tonight, all right?”

        It was Michael’s mother.

        “All right, good luck.”

        “Thanks.”

        “Love ya.”

        “Love you too. Bye.”


Thomas Behn 9:33:48

         I was already done with half of my pack and still nothing was happening. What exactly was in this place that was so important anyway? It was some run-down house in south-side Chicago. I didn’t see anything of value, at least anything that would have some man-in-black interested.

         My phone started to vibrate.

         “Behn.”

         “Do you have the phone number to my office?”

         “The one located in L.A. right?”

         “Yes, that one. Call and tell them to have their team ready.”

         “All right. Anything else?”

         “Be ready to—”

         Static began to distort his voicing, and it only continued to get louder.

         “What? I can’t hear you—”

         Gunshots. Three of them. I ducked into the police vehicle. I started looking around the area. Nothing but darkness. No one here. I tried recalling him but nothing. He must’ve turned his cell off.

        “Requesting back-up, over. I repeat, requesting backup, over.”

        I took two extra clips from the glove box. I opened the car door slowly and proceeded to the front entrance. Nothing. No more gunshots, running, or talking—what the hell happened?

        Grass.  Behind you.

        “Freeze! Police!”

        I edged toward the nearby pillar near the entrance for cover. I heard small and quiet footsteps coming closer to me. Where was Cartwright? I could see a shadow of a person appearing from the corner.

        “Put your gun down! Now!”

        It wasn’t Cartwright.

        More gunshots. The pillar wouldn’t last much longer. I started firing back but I’d be dead in seconds if I didn’t move. I jumped onto the front door. I had to make cover inside the house.
         

Melissa Devlin 9:39:55

        Marcus was notorious for his unethical behavior around prisoners and witnesses—but he would rarely get punished. His methods had a certain confidence in them, as if they were the failsafe techniques in interrogation. Numerous times I’ve seen him do it: choking, threatening, hitting, and even blackmail. I knew by now that he was at the end of his options. The trial would come in less than a month, and after that, he would walk home free. For two months, we questioned Christopher Dalton, investigated his office and home, questioned his workers in the U.S. and other foreign affiliates but came up with nothing. Witnesses have come and gone, and in the beginning, Marcus would settle with a witness testimony, and he constantly did for two months. With two dead witnesses in the conspiracy, Marcus would not settle with “Not guilty.”

        He was pacing back and force across the table. He took occasional glances at me, as if he could see through the mirror. Dalton seemed especially terrified, but even so, his reaction to all this was calmer than I would expect for a tightly-would businessman.

        I looked at my watch. He had less than 20 minutes left.

Marcus Conrad 9:42:24

         Less than 20 minutes left. He had enough time to think. There was something about his reaction to all this though, something that I didn’t expect. Even the toughest bastards out there said something after being threatened. But he just sat there.

         “I don’t want to hurt you. But I’m not waiting around any longer.”

         He stared straight into the glass mirror. I walked in front of him but he continued blindly looking on, staring right through me.

         “Who are your contacts?”

         I grabbed the edges of the table and threw it to the wall. All that was left was himself and his chair. I looked into his eyes and saw nothing. Nothing. No fear, no sweat running down his face, or worried tone in his voice. In that brief moment I knew that I wasn’t getting to him. None of this was working.

         “Do you really think you’ll get away with this?”

         “By the end of this, that’ll be the least of your worries.”

         “I have nothing to hide Officer Conrad.”

         He stared into my eyes. I took him by the shoulder and ran my fist through his stomach.

         “You’re a very good liar.”

Thomas Behn 9:46:31

         Where the hell was he? It’d been nearly 10 minutes and there was still no sounds coming from the outside. I staked a small area between a side closet and moldy armchair, getting a good view of the outside entrance. A faint streetlight gave me enough light to see if the guy would try to make a run for.

         But where the hell was he?

         “Behn?”

         Behind the cabinet facing the kitchen. We both held our weapons at each other’s faces for a few seconds before recognizing each other’s faces.
         “I thought you were dead. What happened?”

         He made a disgruntled groan before coming forward. He hugged against the wall in order remain hidden from the windows but the floorboards under his feet creaked as if they were going to cave in at any moment. He was also exposing himself.

         “Found a hostile as I was making my way out. I left the evidence in the kitchen. Bottom cabinet on the left near the stove.”

         “Your arm—”

         He gestured toward the window. I turned around and saw a small figure passing by. Cartwright came a few feet closer before he had a view of the outside. I gave the go signal before making my way into the front yard. Slowly and steadily, just until I get him into view.
         “Freeze!”

         I could hear shots from the inside. I fired in retaliation and shot the man twice. He fell to the ground. Probably dead.

         “Cartwright?”

         More shots came through the front door. I ducked under the window and started moving toward the back.
         
Cameron Palmer 9:52:53

         Logan wanted the Dalton case squared away before tomorrow, whether or not the man told us anything was a problem for the courts after tonight. We couldn’t touch the man. Two months wasted on dead ends and an airtight alibi. Conrad would not like his final say, but what else could we do. We had spent far too many resources looking into this guy already. We had nothing to gain anymore.

         I rounded the corner and entered the interrogation room.

         “Devlin, has he said anything yet?”

         There was an awkward pause in her voice before she presumed. I took a quick glance over into the adjacent room. Marcus sat plainly on the other side, talking to a brick wall.

         “Nothing yet Mrs. Palmer. We’ve been questioning him for the past 3 hours and nothing yet.”

         “Get him out of here. He’s done.”

         “But Mrs. Palmer—”

         “We have strict order from Logan on this one. The agency has been embarrassed enough with this case. He wants the courts to deal with from now on.”

         “That means that he’ll get off without any sentence.”

         “I want that man gone by 10 o’ clock. Report back to me afterwards.”

         This was the end.
         

Thomas Behn 9:55:11

         I peered over the window facing the kitchen—nothing in the backyard except for a broken down tool shed and wild flowers. My hand tensed up as I slowly opened the back door. The creaking of rusted bolts seemed to echo throughout the entire house.

         There he was—straight ahead, past the furniture and waiting next to the closet adjacent to the stairs. Much of the house was already abandoned so there weren’t many places to take cover. Still, he was far enough to run from my shots. I continued opening the door and started heading towards him.

         The eerie noises of floorboards could be heard.

         “Freeze—”

         We exchanged shots in the darkness, but he couldn’t tell where I was. My last bullet rang through the house as I heard another body slump to the floor. Cold sweat ran through my face.

         I ran over to Cartwright but it was already too late. If he hadn’t died just then, they probably killed him as I was making my through the back.

         “Damn it.”

         The evidence.

         I raced toward the kitchen and found the envelope in the drawer like he said. I took the papers toward the light and began skimming through them.

        I could hear sirens in the background.

Qian Liu 9:58:19

         I took a deep breath, my hands clenching the remote. I could hear the lapping of waves in the distance.

        I press the button.

         The entire south wall of the mansion collapsed into a fury of smoke and rubble. The explosion rang across the entire complex. The alarm would go off in 30 seconds and all guards would be issued a warning in 1 minute and 30 seconds.

         It was go time.