Blood Money (18 page)

CHAPTER 26

This was the second time that Mark had had the chance to be in on a raid. What were the odds of that happening within a few days of joining the FBI? It's common knowledge that FBI work is basically ninety percent cranial and only ten percent physical. As a Special Agent for the Intelligence and Analysis section, especially. the cranial part would probably be closer to ninety-nine percent. He was indebted to John Wellman and Dennis Peterson for allowing him to participate in the raid. He knew it was only because they were hunting for Susan's abductors. Mark was there to help in any way that he could. The drill was the same as last time, only as they started to roll, they were pretty certain that their suspects were still hiding in the target house. The prey was there waiting for the hunter. Portman and the FBI would now be switching roles. They hoped that he was planning to wait for the cover of darkness to make good his escape.

Raids in residential neighborhoods are difficult. The citizenry needs to be protected at all time. Adjoining houses need to be evacuated; roads must be cordoned off. As they approached the area, the cars split off in different directions. One car parked across the street at the end of the block. Two cars were positioned on ends of the street behind the house. Initially, Wellman parked three houses down at the curb. Two agents from each of the end cars were still in civilian clothes. They walked up to the ten houses on both sides of the street and quickly escorted the occupants to end of the block, out of harm's way. As soon as the last house was clear, Wellman got on the radio, “Alpha here, let's do it.” He moved the car up until it was directly in front of the house. It was right behind a car that might have been owned by Schaeffer, or which possibly could be the car that Portman was intending to use for his getaway. They did not have the luxury of time to check out the plates. It didn't really matter anyway. No one was going anywhere in that car as long as they were there. They got out and positioned themsleves behind their car on the street side. There was no sign of activity in the house. Wellman motioned for Tom and Mark to cover the back and sides of the house. Mark took the right side and Tom moved down the left. When they were in position, he turned on the bullhorn. “John Portman and Richard Schaeffer, this is the FBI. The house is surrounded. Come out with your hands raised above your heads. Do it now!”

There was a movement of drapes at one of the windows.

A few minutes passed. John spoke again, “This is your last chance. There is no chance of escape. Put down your weapons and come out now.”

Inside, Portman argued with Schaeffer. He had no intention of giving up. “We've got enough firepower in here to hold out for a while. I'll be damned if I'll give up without a fight. I want to take a few feds with me.”

“That's crazy, John. I don't want to die. Life in jail is better than being shot down like a dog. Let's give up.”

“Dick, you're such a pussy. If you want to give yourself up and spend the rest of your life in jail, be my guest, but I'm gonna fight.”

The front door opened, but no one came out. Then suddenly Dick Schaeffer appeared in the doorway. His hands were high above his head. “Don't shoot, I give up,” he said. As Dick walked down the steps, John Portman stepped up to the doorframe. He had a shotgun in his hand. He pointed it at Schaeffer and pulled the trigger. Then he raised the gun again and aimed it at the agents. As Schaeffer's shot-riddled body fell to the ground, Dennis and John took aim. They both pulled off three shots. Portman reached for the doorframe to support himself, but collapsed onto the stairs. He fell on top of Dick's body. His killing days were over. Mark ran around the house and stopped where Portman's body fell. There were three holes in his head and three in his chest. That had been entirely his choice. Tom and Mark searched the house for any other occupants. No one else was there. The hunt was finally over. The house was cordoned off with yellow crime scene tape as a forensics team arrived to do a thorough search of the premises and car for evidence.

The FBI in Denver located a cabin in the mountains nearby that was traced to Mel Tarkington and John Portman. As Portman's assistant, Tarkington was a person of interest. The evidence against him was slowly building, including a jointly held safety deposit box at a local bank that had recently been emptied and the testimony of one of the NRBA directors about illegal projects that he and Portman had been involved in. The cabin had been in use days prior to their locating it, but nothing of any value was found there. It was assumed that Tarkington left there and fled to Canada. A member of the Board was missing, and was presumed, also, to have left the country.

CHAPTER 27

Mel Tarkington had been questioned briefly by FBI Agents during the initial raid and shutdown of the National Rare Blood Association Headquarters. He cooperated with the agents and was released with the warning that they may want to question him again later. He was told not to leave Denver. Mel left the building and immediately contacted Portman to warn him of the raid. From there he went immediately to the Spartan National Bank, where he emptied the contents of the safety deposit box into his backpack. He rented a car using a forged credit card and driver's license from the SD box. He drove for two hours to a secluded mountain cabin that John Portman owned. He planned on waiting at this location until John could return to Colorado. He attempted, unsuccessfully to contact John at any of the cell phone numbers that he had. This raised his level of concern. He waited twelve hours for a reply before he finally decided that he should go into hiding. If John was apprehended, Mel was sure that John would give him up to make a deal. He knew that he would. Friendships don't transcend one's freedom. He wasn't going to wait around to find out. He vacated the cabin and hit the road.

CHAPTER 28

Dennis Peterson became Special Agent in Charge of the Cleveland FBI Office the week after he turned forty-four. He was six feet tall and weighs around 195 pounds. He appears paunchy in places as a result of being couch potato on the weekends he is able to get away from the office. Dennis was separated from Joanne, his wife of nineteen years. She was employed by the Bureau when they first met. They dated exclusively for one year before running off to Las Vegas to get married, an act that alienated both their families. That didn't seem to bother either of them. When their son Stephen came along unexpectedly during their first year together, Joanne left the Bureau to become a full time mother. That began the long-term erosion of their marriage. With Dennis hard at work building a career, Joanne transferred all her love and affection to Stephen. Over the years, their arguments got hotter. She accused him of being a workaholic; of caring more about the Bureau than he did for his own wife and son.

Dennis reacted with accusations that Joanne was deliberately turning his son against him. He even made a suggestion that she was making a sissy out of him. Whenever Dennis had time to spend with his son doing “guy” things, Joanne always found some excuse to cancel or shorten his plans. Sex between them became non-existent. Although Dennis would have vehemently denied, early in his marriage, that he would ever stray, his need for female companionship led him to the arms of a sympathetic staffer at the Bureau. She was more than willing to give him all the love and sex he wanted. The kinkier the better. It broke all the rules, but Dennis felt like a teenager again. They were very discreet, neither wanting to jeopardize their careers with the FBI. Her name was Marcia. She was far from the beauty that he had married. But what she lacked in looks she more that made up for in tenderness and compassion; two areas that were very lacking in Dennis' life. They have been seeing each other now for five years. Marcia was on an emotional rollercoaster with Dennis during that period, including several times when he was convinced that he needed to reconcile with Joanne for the sake of their son. The odd thing was that Stephen had no use for Dennis, and had often taken sick on the days he was to see his father. The times that they spent together were becoming fewer, less than twice a month, and then for only a few hours at a time. Now that Stephen was preparing to enter college, there didn't seem to be much sense in reconciliation. Marcia's patience was finally paying off. They were beginning to talk about him getting a divorce and the two of them getting married. She was starting to see a considerable improvement in his mood when they had their intimate time together. There was a glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel.

Mark met with Dennis Peterson in his office. It was time to talk business, and to make his appointment official. “I am sure glad that you are on board, Mark. One of the first things you're going to need to do is hire an assistant for your PI business. We want you to continue to operate down in Centerville. I have an approval to expand your office. I've checked, and there is a larger office available in your building row. It is already sub-divided into three sections. You will need to get back down there and set this all up. I want you operating within thirty days. Does that sound like a reasonable schedule to you?”

“Well, yes, I guess so. Is the FBI supplementing my operating budget? If I add a person, I will also need to get full time secretarial help. The extra rent, salaries and taxes will add at least fifteen to twenty thousand dollars to my monthly operating expenses.”

“It will all be covered, Mark. Just submit a detailed expense report at the end of each month. I will make sure that you are reimbursed within a week. We do the same thing for Susan's business.

They went on to discuss salary, administrative procedures and working relationships. “As soon as Susan is able, I'll expect you to learn her operation. I've also got to get you to Quantico for training. I've scheduled that for the fifteenth of next month. Both will require you to spend considerable time away from your business. That's why it's important that you find the right person to run things in Centerville. Do you have anyone in particular in mind?

“Actually, I do. There is a friend of my father that he knew from church. He's a retired Dayton police lieutenant, so he knows all about investigations. We've talked about my business on occasion, and he has always been interested in what I do. I think he would be an ideal candidate. His name is Bruce Crandall. He's about fifty-eight, married, with one child in college. I'll give him a call right away.”

“That should work, Mark. I will trust in your judgment. Just be sure he can handle things administratively while you're gone. You're going to have a full slate for at least the next six months. I want your mind to be on FBI work. You should plan on returning to Centerville first thing in the morning. I have arranged for your transportation back to Dayton International. Why don't you take the rest of the day off? I know you will want to go to the hospital to visit Susan before you go. I hear she is coming along well.” He rose and extended his hand. He pumped Mark's hand vigorously. “Mark, it's really great to have you on board.”

“Thanks, Dennis. I'm really proud to be working here with you. I feel a lot like I did when I joined up with “Hide & Seek.” I guess it's the feeling of being a part of something that is much bigger than yourself.”

“I couldn't agree with you more. It's a great feeling.”

When Mark got to Susan's room, he showed his ID to the guard on duty. The guards would insist on checking ID's every time a person entered the room, regardless of who it was and how many times they'd seen you. It was getting to be a bit bothersome, but Mark preferred that they err on the side of overzealous security than on less. When he entered Susan's room, he saw an entirely different person than he had seen a few days ago. She was sitting up in the bed watching television. An IV was still connected to her arm, but the oxygen tube was gone. She was wearing light pink pajamas. Her beautiful red hair had been brushed. It framed her face, which was still very pale. The bruise marks on her neck were starting to turn a dark olive as the healing of the damaged tissue was taking place.

“Well, you're sure looking a lot better. It looks like this pampered life agrees with you.”

“You're on to me, Mark. I just can't get enough of this ambiance and the great hospital cuisine. Please don't let on, though. They might send me home and I'll lose all this.”

He could tell that Susan was really glad to see him. Mark gave her a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. He handed her a large bouquet of flowers that he had picked up at the gift shop.

“They're beautiful. Thank you, Mark. Would you put them over there on the table with the others?”

The “table” looked more like a florist shop. He had to move five vases to make room. The nurses must have anticipated the arrival of more flowers, because he found two vases already filled with water at the back of the table. He placed his flowers in front where Susan could see them. He did it at the expense of the others. He caught himself doing it, but didn't care, feeling justified. After all, the other flowers had been already been seen and enjoyed. His were the newest and had a right to be open for viewing. His intentions were good, or so he wanted to believe. When he returned to her bedside, he said, “Let me update you on the progress we've had in rounding up your abductors. He spent several minutes telling her about the arrest of George and Karl and the shooting death of Schaeffer and Portman. The FBI and Cleveland Police Department needed for her to confirm their identities as her captors, but she wanted to hear everything from his perspective, so she let him go on.

“I didn't get a chance to fire my gun, but it was great being in on the raid. Boy, I sure have had an exciting introduction to the Bureau.”

“You can say that again. I've never even been out in the field. I can only imagine what it must feel like to be in on a kill. I know it is not nice to say, but I am really glad that they stopped that awful man. I guess he is the closest I've seen to what you would describe as a psychopath. Murdering innocent people meant nothing to him.”

From what Dennis and you have told me, I think that would be a very apt description of him. He showed no mercy with either you or with Roland. At the end, he shot Dick Schaeffer in the back with a shotgun. By the way, they confirmed that he used your gun to kill Roland.”

“Oh God! Poor Roland, he was completely innocent. He was just trying to help me out. I should never have used his data input without his knowing about it. His death was strictly my fault. I'm going to have to live with that for the rest of my life.”

“I know how you feel, Sue. It's always tragic when innocent people get dragged into our work. As much as we try to protect everyone, bad things sometimes happen to good people. Don't be too hard on yourself. You had no way of knowing what was going to happen. Try not to think about it. I'm just relieved to know that we got them. Knowing that they were out there somewhere was starting to get to me.”

“I know I have a guard out there, Mark, but potential witnesses have been killed before. What about Portman's assistant, Mel Tarkington? Did they ever catch him?”

“Unfortunately, he got away, but they are almost certain that he fled to Canada with whatever money he was able to get from that safe deposit box, and they're still searching for one of the Board members that was involved in the illegal payment scheme. But you don't need to be thinking about any of this. You're perfectly safe. Chief Jacobsen insisted on keeping the guard posted until you are able to leave the hospital. He's an ex-agent, you know.”

“So I heard. He is such a sweet man. He came to visit me to ask if there was anything else he could do for me. Can you imagine that? He brought a large bouquet with him, the one in the blue vase that you hid behind yours. He said it was from the department, but I really think it really was from him.”

Mark's face reddened a bit.

“It's okay, Mark. I had two days to enjoy them.”

He changed the subject, hoping to lighten things up a bit. “Dennis and I had a long talk this morning about my new career. I am going to be hiring an assistant to run my business when I'm working on cases. I think I have the perfect candidate. I'm going to expand my office space and hopefully make Brenda full time.” He came up for air before continuing. “Dennis is arranging for my home computer to be updated with the same bells and whistles that you have. I will be your computer alter ego. They are even going to build a faux wall to hide the center. Of course, the best part of all of this is that I'm going to have to spend a lot of time up here learning what you do and how to operate all the gizmos. Now that's what I refer to as a fringe benefit.”

She smiled her signature smile. “I know you won't have any problem learning. But if you do, you will just have to stay after school so I can tutor you properly. If you are a bad boy there will be detention, maybe even a spanking.”

Now they both laughed. Mark was happy to see her in high spirits after all she had been through. They agreed that he should stay at her condo when he was either in Cleveland or working with her in Hudson. If he encountered any of her neighbors or fellow employees, he could pass himself off as her brother. It was a perfect cover for their operation.

The Cleveland Plain Dealer had run a brief story about her shooting. With the help of Chief Jacobsen, it was reported that Susan had been shot during an attempted robbery. A day later they ran a story about the FBI raid at a Snow Road house that was reported as an unrelated incident. It listed John Portman and Richard Schaeffer as being killed in a suspected drug deal gone bad.

No charges were filed against Susan for the shooting death of Roland Phoebes. Portman's feeble attempt to frame Susan for his death was seriously flawed. Roland was a homosexual, which was attested to by his lover, a man who worked with him at Central Data Processing and who found Roland's body. Susan's personal items in his bedroom were obvious plants. The finishing touch was the discovery of Susan's gun with Portman's prints on it and the pictures of Roland's body, which were found at Dick Schaeffer's hideout. Ballistics showed that the bullets recovered from Phoebes' body and Susan's shoulder came from her gun.

“You know, Susan, when you went missing I was really scared for you. It wasn't just fear and concern. I would really miss you if you weren't a part of my life. I guess what I'm trying to get at, in my ever so suave way, is that I'm in love with you.” He looked into her eyes to see if there were any corresponding feelings. There were.

“Mark, I love you too. When I was down to your place it took all the restraint I could muster to keep from throwing myself at you. On my way home, I was tempted to turn around and go back to your house. I wish now that I had.”

“That's funny, because I had the same temptation to call you and ask you to come back.” Mark leaned over and cupped her face in his hands to kiss her. She pulled away in fear.

He stepped back and asked, “What's wrong? What did I do?

“I'm sorry, Mark. It's not you. That man, George. He held my face like that with his hands before he pressed his fingers into my eyes. I'll never forget it.”

Mark moved forward and put his arms around her. She held him very tight. “I'm sorry, Sue. I had no way of knowing. I will move more slowly.” He held her at arm's length as they both moved their heads forward to kiss. It was a long, deep kiss. His mind raced back to their Washington days. The thought came to him, and he asked, “You don't suppose that Dennis has a ‘no fraternization' rule, do you? Once again, I didn't check the small print when I signed up.”

She didn't answer right away. After a while she said, “Well, we'll just have to keep a low profile, won't we? After all, we will be working closely on a lot of assignments. I'll be staying at your place, and you will be at mine. You will always need more tutoring on some of the technical stuff. I can even assign make-up classes.” Their laugh was a nervous laugh. They had already missed out on a lot of years they could have had together. The idea that something could tear them apart again was unthinkable. They were not ever going to let anyone or anything get between them again.