Blood Money (16 page)

Her thoughts were interrupted by the men returning to the room.

“Well, Susan, are you ready? Last chance to make things easy on yourself. You have my word that if you tell me who was behind the file theft and why you did it, I will cut that tape and let you walk out that door. You'll save yourself a lot of pain that way. What do you say?”

Susan looked past Portman. This time she noticed Dick Schaeffer and two other men. They hadn't wheeled in a cart, as they had in her dream. She took that as a plus, but that turned out to be a big mistake. They had something even more sinister than a shock treatment in mind for her. Pain was a stranger to Susan. The most pain she had endured in her life was when she first started running, and she had learned how to control that. She knew how to go with it until it dissipated.
Maybe that will work now
, she thought, but with little conviction.

“All I have to say to you is that you are a sick son of a bitch. Killing innocent people and picking on a helpless woman. Is that your way of getting it up? Is that it, John? Does hurting a woman make you feel like a macho man?” She looked at Portman's face and he didn't look amused. Immediately, she realized that she was violating rule one about not antagonizing the abductors. Another oops

His jaw clenched. “Okay, I've had enough of your smart mouth. I really hate to mess up such a beautiful woman, but it's time for me to introduce you to George and Karl. George's specialty is pressure points. Karl likes to use acid. Does that sound like something you want to go through? So, Susan, one more time, who put you up to stealing our file, and why do they want it?”

At this point, all she could think of saying was, “You can go to hell.”
Boy, there's the sign of an advanced degree.

Portman smiled. “Okay, George, why don't we see how much pressure this fucking smartass can stand?”

George moved forward. This was not a man you wanted to meet under the best of conditions. He reminded her of the “Incredible Hulk” in his green stage.

“George, you may be interested in knowing, is an expert at Dim-Mak, sometimes called the ‘Death Touch.' He knows where all the nerve points are. He can kill a person with just one touch. Sometimes he just knocks them out, but today he's just going to press enough to inflict intense pain on you. Enjoy! We'll talk again later.”

Karl moved forward;
another escapee from a circus freak show
, she thought. He grabbed her head as she tried to twist away and held her down on the mattress. Dick grabbed her legs and did the same.

George moved in closer. He had a dispassionate expression on his face. This was just a job to him. He enjoyed inflicting pain. He placed two fingers on the right side of her neck and pressed down. A burning pain shot up to the top of her head. It suddenly felt like molten lava was coursing through her veins. He continued to press as she screamed in pain. She tried to move her head, but Karl was holding her too tightly. As it spread down the back of her neck the pain became too great for her and she passed out. When she regained consciousness, her entire head and neck throbbed with pain. The shape of George was still hovering above her. She looked directly into Portman‘s eyes. “Please make him stop. I don't know anything.”

Ignoring her plea, Portman said, “Go ahead, do some more. Maybe you can jog her memory.” He was definitely enjoying seeing her suffer.

George leaned forward again. Karl and Dick resumed the holds they had on her.

“No, please stop,” Susan screamed. Tears were now pouring from her eyes.

Portman motioned for George to continue.

This time George cupped her chin between his big hands and pressed his thumbs down on her closed eyelids. The pain was so severe that her body jumped. Again, she screamed, “Oh God, stop! This time she added, “I'll tell you, just stop, please.” She started crying uncontrollably. Her entire body was convulsing.

Portman motioned for George to stop. “You better not be screwing with me. Okay, tell me.”

Karl lifted her to a sitting position against the wall.

Susan decided to fabricate a story around the information that Portman already knew. “You were right,” she blurted out. “Roland came to me. He said he had a client that was willing to pay one hundred thousand dollars for a copy of the NRBA disbursement file. He said he needed the money to pay off some gambling debts. He offered me half if I could hack the file during one of his daily update runs. I needed the money, too, so I used my copy of his software program and rode in with his daily processing. I did it, just as you said.”

“You needed more than just his programs.”

“Yes, I used a program that I developed when I was with the government. I'm not supposed to have it, but I took a copy with me when I left Washington. It is virtually undetectable. I stole your records and delivered the discs to Roland. That is all I can tell you. Now let me go.”

Portman was watching her eyes. Once again, his gut told him that she was not telling him the whole story. “Not so fast. So far all you've done is confirm my own suspicions. I want to know who hired Phoebes and what they intend to do with the file. You must know who Roland's client is. Why are you protecting him? You're going to tell me eventually. You must realize that.”

“I swear I don't know anymore. Roland was handling the business end. I just gave him the discs.”

“Swearing isn't going to cut it here, missy. You've lied to me before, and I know that you're lying now. You obviously fear them more that you do me. That's a big mistake, because I'm not going to stop this until you tell me what I want to know. I think it's time to let Karl show you his specialty. I hear it's a real tongue loosener.”

Karl turned and left the room.

Tears continued to flow down Susan's cheeks. She realized that they were either going to kill her or scar her up so badly that she wouldn't want to live. “No, please, John. I have no reason to lie. Stop this now and let me go.”

“You're not going anywhere, Ms. Harrigan, until you tell me who is behind this. I am not going to say it again.”

“I don't know. Roland made all the contacts. He didn't tell me the name of his client. I thought it was better if I didn't know. I'm not sure he would have told me anyway. That is the truth.” Her voice was trembling. She watched Karl as he came into the room with a small satchel.

Portman moved closer to the mattress and leaned over her. “Do you know what hydrofluoric acid does when it comes in contact with the human body? I will tell you. It burns a hole clear through the skin, the tissue and the bone. Just like a drill would. They tell me the pain is excruciating. Well, that is Karl's specialty. He's going to apply one drop at a time until you talk; different places on the body each time. Maybe we will start with that pretty face of yours, then, who knows. Maybe in your ears or your eyes. That way you will get to experience some variety. The bottom line is that no man will ever want to look at you after the acid has eaten away big chunks of your body. I have never witnessed this before, but I hear that no one has been able to keep silent after a single application. Believe me, Susan, you don't want to go through this. Karl, give the lady a little demonstration.”

Karl removed the plug from the vial and carefully poured a small drop onto a metal bar. The acid hissed and smoked as it ate into the bar. George grabbed Susan's head and pinned her down. Dick grabbed her legs. Karl moved in closer.

“John, stop him, don't do this. I'll tell you everything, I promise.”

Portman raised his hand and Karl backed up. “Don't lie to me, Susan. I'm not messing with you any longer. This is definitely your last chance. Screw with me one more time and I'll let Karl make Swiss cheese out of you. Am I clear? Now talk!”

“It was Peter Thurston, the head of Thurston Electronics. He's on the NRBA board, but he couldn't get access to information he wanted. Roland said that Thurston decided to get the information on his own. That's all I know. Roland made all the contacts with him. I just hacked the file. I don't even know whether or not Roland ever delivered the file. I just know that I never got paid any of the money. Now it doesn't look like I ever will.”

“Now that wasn't so bad, was it?” Portman said, smiling. He was certain that she was telling the truth this time. It tied in with what Orwell had told him.
This is big. Dr. Orwell will be very pleased. There will have to be a promotion in this after all, or at least a big bonus.

“Okay, gentlemen, you can wrap it up. I'm sorry Karl, I would have liked to see you in action. If we ever do this again I will let you go first, I promise. You both did very well. Tape her mouth up again.”

“No, John, you gave me your word. I told you everything you wanted, now let me go.” She started to twist around on the mattress. Susan knew that Portman had no intention of releasing her, but he wouldn't kill her until he checked out her information. That would give her at least a few more hours, maybe a day. Sue was still hopeful that she would be rescued. Every minute she stayed alive increased the odds that she would be found. She wondered why that hadn't happened yet. It shouldn't be that hard to track down this building. The FBI was better than that.

“I may let you go. I haven't decided yet. But you are not going anywhere until I can check out Peter Thurston's role in this. If he's the one, he's going to regret messing with me. Mister millionaire hot shot is in for a big surprise. For the time being, however, you will remain here as my guest. I regret that the accommodations are not nicer.”

She started to speak just as Dick moved over to put the sock back in her mouth and apply a fresh piece of tape. She was rendered silent again. She watched Karl and George leave the room first.

Dick looked at Portman, then at Susan. “How about letting the boys have a crack at her. They tell me Karl can go five times, one right after the other.”

Before Portman could answer, his cell phone rang. He looked at the origin number. “Why are you using this phone?” he snapped.

Susan's hopes rose a bit. Portman was using his cell phone. Maybe the call would be traced, she thought. She sure hoped so. This may be her last chance.

Portman listened for a minute. “When did this all happen? Damn it! Where are you now? Okay, listen, I want you to go to the bank and clean out the box. Take everything to the cabin. I will meet you there. They'll be looking for me, so I'll either charter a plane out of one of the suburban airports or get a car. I'll use a phony ID. I've got a few with me. It might take me a few days. In the interim, lie low, Mel. Oh, by the way, Ms. Harrigan was the one behind this. Just as I thought. She just made a full confession. I'm certainly glad that I followed my instincts and not yours.”

From the gist of the conversation, Sue assumed that the Justice Department had issued the subpoenas.
If so,
she wondered,
why is acting so calmly
?
How will that change my position?
It didn't take long for her questions to be answered.

Portman snapped his cell phone closed. He had been standing with his back to her. Suddenly, he whirled around and glared at Susan with rage in his eyes. “You fuckin' bitch. This is all your doing. You tipped off the feds. Well, that finishes any chance you ever had of getting out of here alive.” His face was turning redder. He reached into his bag, pulled out her gun and without any hesitation, shot her in the chest. Susan's body went limp.

“What are you doing?” Dick asked as he, Karl and George rushed into the room.

“Nothing, just cleaning up another loose end.” He turned to Dick's men. “You guys pick up her body and toss it in that closet.”

George and Karl picked up her body and tossed it on the closet floor. They understood about loose ends, having cleaned up quite a few. Another body meant little to them. They pushed her legs up to her chin so that they could close the door.

Portman wiped off the doorknobs. “Now, let's get out of here,” he said, then pointing to the burger wrappers and bottles he added, “Pick up that trash. Don't leave anything behind that you touched.” He turned to Dick. “There's been a slight change in plans. I'm gonna need a place to hide out for a few days.”

He turned off the light and locked the door. As they exited, the men removed all traces of their having been there. It wasn't the ending that Portman had expected, but at least he had finished his hunt and bagged his quarry.

CHAPTER 24

The FBI is the investigative arm of the Department of Justice. They have approximately thirty-one thousand employees, of which thirteen thousand are Special Agents. The balance is made up of professional support personnel. Domestically, the FBI operates an information system known as the Investigative Data Warehouse. The IDW provides agents and analysts with instant access to photographs, bibliographical data, physical location information and financial data for thousands of known and suspected terrorists. The database is made up of over 100,000,000 pages of terrorism related documents and billions of structured records such as addresses and phone numbers. Through the FBI's Terrorism Financing Operations Section, there is cooperation with international intelligence and financial officials to investigate, and where possible, dismantle terrorist financing mechanisms. They openly share knowledge of terrorist financing and money laundering with countries around the world. Money is the lifeblood of terrorist organizations. By cutting off the NRBA funding, Homeland Security had disrupted and dismantled one more threat.

* * *

Mark needed one more pass. He was busy scanning the NRBA's tax records when Dennis came into the office. “Any luck yet?”

“I've narrowed it down. They pay taxes on five empty warehouses. Can you believe that? Susan could be in any one of them. Unfortunately, they are not anywhere near each other. Three of them are over an hour away. This is so damn frustrating. I feel like I'm spinning my wheels.”

Dennis had some news, “I just found something that might help us down the road,” Dennis said.

What's that?”

“Well, according to Susan's file, she had a ‘Veri Chip' imbedded in her scalp. They are sometimes called ‘Digital Angels.' Anyway, the chip is about the size of a grain of rice. It was an experimental program she participated in when she was in Washington. If you can get us within several hundred feet of her, we will be able to transmit a signal to the chip, which will signal back where she is. It requires the use of a modified GPS device, and they have two of the scanners at this office. They haven't been used in two years. I have two men testing them right now. If you can get us close enough, the scanner could save us a lot of time raiding empty buildings.”

“That's great, Dennis. That'll save a lot of time once we zero in on the right building. Now if I could only narrow this list down more, we would know which buildings to scan. The main problem is that they are spread out over a sixty-mile radius. I've got one more program I can run. I called in a favor from a friend at the power company. They are letting me download their files to check for any warehouses that have suddenly begun to use electric service or had a sudden increase in usage during the last thirty days. It'll probably take me a few more minutes to scan their files.” Mark started the processing and sat back to wait. His eyes were glued to the screen.

“That's a good idea, Mark. Unless a company is maintaining outdoor security lights, there shouldn't be any electrical usage at an abandoned building, certainly no noticeable increase in usage.”

“Exactly!”

Mark was watching the screen for any hits when an address appeared on the sporadic usage, just enough to maintain a hideout. The processing continued for another two minutes. That was it, no more entries appeared. “That's got to be it, then,” he said, getting his hopes up. He knew that they had to find her quickly. Time was definitely not on their side.

Peterson wrote down the address. “Let's get this to Wellman. I think that this is enough to move on.” As they were leaving the office, Agent Norton came by. “We just got a hit on Portman's cell phone, but unfortunately he wasn't on it long enough for us to track him. It does tell us that he is still in the area, though. That's a good sign.”

Mark updated Norton on their findings.

“Great job, Mark.”

“God, I sure hope this is the right one,” he replied.

When they told Wellman about the chip, the GPS scanner and the suspected warehouse, he asked his secretary to issue an “all systems go” alert to the task force. Everyone involved with the raiding party was to go immediately to the staging area to pick up their equipment.

“I want everybody to be ready to roll by four o'clock.”

By the time they arrived at the staging area, the room was filled with agents. Each carefully checking their guns and extra ammunition clips. After weapons and radios were ready, they put on their Kevlar vests. Last of all, they donned the navy blue jackets with the bright yellow “FBI” on the front, back and sleeves. Mark followed the same routine. It felt odd putting on the jacket for the first time. They always looked so cool on TV.

The force was divided up into five groups of four Agents each. Two shotguns were issued to each group. At exactly four o'clock, they filed out of the room and out to the waiting cars. They were all late model “Hoover Blue” Ford Crown Victorias. Mark rode in the lead car with Dennis, Case Agent John Wellman and Special Agent Tom Norton. The remaining agents filled the four other cars. The ride took just under ten minutes. As they approached the building, they could see that the windows were boarded up. A metal sign nailed to front door read “FOR SALE OR LEASE.” The phone number on the sign was the same as the phone number of the realty company used by the NRBA. This had to be the place.

The surrounding buildings were boarded up as well. There were no cars or people in sight. Case Agent Wellman removed his radio and clipped it onto his jacket. He pressed a button and spoke into it. “Alpha to all units. Two and three, take your positions here in front.” The rest of the cars moved to the back of the building. The right and left sides of the warehouse each contained five docks that would have normally been used to cross-dock merchandise. The rear of the building had a door that was most likely used as an employee entrance and for drivers delivering their Bills of Lading and other paperwork. Fortunately, it was not boarded up; that was a promising sign. Anyone who accessed the building would have had to use this door. There was one boarded up window in the rear to the right side of the door. As far as could be seen, the warehouse had only one floor. It was uncertain if it had a basement, however. That would be unusual for this area. Wellman got back on the radio. “Unit four, take the left side of the building; unit five, the right. We'll cover the back. Hold your positions until you hear from me.” He got out of the car and approached the building. He took out the portable GPS unit and turned it on. John pressed the send button and waited for a response. A flashing icon appeared on the small screen. His heart jumped. He raced back to the car. “She's here,” he said excitedly. “She's somewhere in this building.”

“Thank God,” Mark said. “What do we do now?”

Wellman got back on the radio. “Alpha to all units. We have a positive. Alpha will enter the building from the rear. There are no vehicles or other signs of anyone else being here, but it's always possible. Hold your positions until you hear from me. Stay alert!”

Case Agent Wellman had notified the Cleveland Police Department about their operation. In an abduction case, especially involving a federal agent, there is no question of the FBI having jurisdiction. Chief Jacobsen, who was an ex-agent, pledged his complete support. He arranged for six unmarked police cars to cruise the area within a mile of the warehouse, watching for anything suspicious. They were at Wellman's disposal if they were needed. He also had a SWAT team already rolling. Peterson and Wellman took the shotguns. The four of them approached the rear door with guns ready. Wellman motioned to Norton to check the door for any alarms. The back of the building was in shadows. Tom removed a small penlight from his pocket and ran the beam along the perimeter of the door. At the top he found a metal clip attached to the frame with two stripped wires hanging from it. He reported back to Wellman, “There used to be an alarm, but it's definitely not functioning now.” He tried the door. It was locked. Wellman motioned for Mark to check the window. There were no signs that any of the boards had been pried loose and re-nailed. Whoever had taken Susan into the building must have had a key to the door. Norton handed Mark a small crowbar. He slowly pried off the bottom board while he held it. They were trying to make as little noise as possible. Just because there were no cars around didn't mean for certain that someone wasn't inside guarding Susan. The second board came off more easily than the first, exposing a broken window behind it. It was unlatched and raised easily. There was now just enough room for them to slide through, even with vests and jackets on. Mark boosted John in first. Dennis was next, followed by Tom. He handed them the shotguns and entered last.

The room they were in was once an office. Three metal desks and some secretarial chairs were all that remained, except for a built-in coat rack with some wire clothes hangers. The only way out was through an office door made out of wood with frosted glass. John approached the door carefully. Agents are trained to approach doors cautiously, because they are often booby-trapped. He opened it slowly, as if he expected it to squeak. He eyed the frame for any telltale wires or cables. There were none. On the other side of the door was the warehouse. There was a slight glow of light silhouetting the overhead dock doors on the right side where the sun was still shining. Aside from that, in the dim light there was nothing but uneven shadows created by junk that had been left behind. It appeared to be safe to proceed.

“We are going to have to use our lights. There is too much crap on the floor. We could break our necks.” John spoke from experience. As a teenager, he broke an ankle when he tripped over a wooden pallet while working at a summer warehouse job. He still had a slight, almost indistinguishable limp, even after forty years.

“First, let's unlock that back door.” Tom walked over and released the lock. He opened the door to make sure it was in working order, in case they needed to vacate the warehouse in a hurry.

“I think we should split into pairs and go down on different sides,” Dennis suggested. “Watch out for any trip wires.” John agreed. Mark followed him down the left side. Tom and Dennis took the right side. Their flashlight beams fell on an assortment of pallets, short pipes, broken hand trucks, more secretarial chairs and stuff that Mark wouldn't even know how to describe. It was like walking through a minefield. Mark couldn't be certain, but the layers of dust on the floor seemed to have been disturbed recently. Of course, rats and other critters running around can cause a disturbance like that as well as human beings. He decided to keep any assumptions to myself. He could see a wall in front of them. The distance across the warehouse was about seventy feet. At the pace they had to go, moving inch by inch, it felt like twice that.

Both teams arrived at the wall at the same time. There were two doors in front of them. One opened in, the other opened out. The one that opened in had a heavy-duty lock. A wooden sign on the door said STORAGE ROOM. Dennis tried the knob cautiously, but it didn't turn. He put his ear against the door, but couldn't hear anything. John took out the GPS scanner and stood directly in front of the storage room door. The icon lit up more brightly than before. “She's definitely in there,” he whispered excitedly.

Dennis moved to the other door. It had a simple bedroom door twist lock. They lined up on both sides of the door. On a signal from Dennis, Mark opened it. He flashed his beam down the length of a narrow hall. At the end was a wide door. “It's just a hallway leading to what looks like the front door,” he reported.

John motioned for all to join him in the hallway. He raised his voice just above a whisper. “Look, we've got a real problem here. We need a ram in here now to open that door where Susan is. We don't have time for them to come all the way around the way we did. We're going to have to take out the front door and then move them immediately in here for the other door. It's got to happen as one swift move.”

Mark spoke up. “Isn't that too risky, John? If anyone's in there, they could kill her before we can get in.”

“Not if we do this right. We have the element of surprise on our side,” John said, “We don't even know if there is anyone else in there. It's highly unlikely that there is. One thing I do know, from experience, is that every minute we delay getting to her could be her last.”

Mark knew he was right. “Okay,” John. I'm just so frightened for her.”

“We all are, Mark.” The others nodded in agreement. He reached for his radio. He whispered, “Unit two, I need you take out the front door. As soon as you make entry, you'll have to come down a twenty-foot hallway, make a right turn and take out an office door. I'll direct you to it. I'm going to need it to be one swift, non-stop motion. Wait for my signal. Unit three, give them backup. I need one agent each from units four and five to move immediately around to the back of the building to cover our rear. Both of you take a shotgun with you.” He turned to the others. “Okay, let's get this set up. He left the hallway door open. Tom positioned himself on one side of the door and Mark took the other. They were about eight feet from the door and four feet from the wall. Both had shotguns ready. John and Dennis stood about twelve feet from the wall and also about six feet wide of the door opening. They held handguns. From experience, John knew that anyone exiting the room could only shoot straight ahead as they moved through the doorway. By positioning off to the sides, they avoided being in the line of fire. Dennis spoke, “Remember, men, that if you need to discharge your weapons, don't fire directly into the room. Shoot on a crossfire as they step out into the warehouse so we don't accidentally hit Susan.” That was SOP, but he reminded them anyway, probably for Mark's benefit. They all nodded.

John signaled them and spoke into his radio. “This is Alpha. Unit two, GO NOW!”