Iron Triangle: A Jackson Pike Novel (Book One of The Iron Triangle Series) (19 page)

09:45 AM- Sunday,
September 10
^th

Sumner, VA

The searing pain had been replaced with a dull ache that
greeted Jackson as he opened his eyes, attuned to soft voices that echoed in
the background of his mind. He peered through a partially open eye before
allowing himself to shift upward in his hospital bed.

His palms pressed against the white sheets as he tried to
keep his wounded back and shoulder from rubbing against the itchy white sheet
as he shifted to a sitting position in his hospital bed.

"Good morning, Mr. Pike." Jimmy Howe's voice was
tired.

Jackson tried to smile, but he felt sure his facial
expression was more of a grimace. Next to Howe, who still wore the same mud
stained uniform and baseball cap and sipped insistently on a large cup of
coffee, stood the FBI agent from this morning.

His name was Mulberry. Special Agent Mulberry, if Jackson
remembered correctly.

Jackson summoned upon his strength and replied, his breath
somewhat wheezy as his punctured lung tried to push air through his vocal cords
and make a useful sound. "Good morning Officer Howe, Agent Mulberry."

Howe spoke first. "Mr. Pike, I wanted to inform you as
to where we stand on our investigation."

Jackson nodded weakly.

"Clearly, the investigation is still in its early
stages." Mulberry stated, looking around the hospital room. He cleared his
throat. "Unfortunately, so far we have been unable to tie anyone or
anything associated with Carmike Industries to any of the events of last
night."

Jimmy Howe spoke now, his voice projecting over the soft
beeps of Jackson's heart rate monitor. "There is obviously no physical
evidence available at Carmike Chemical. It's estimated that the fire burned at upwards
of 1,000 degrees. It incinerated not only all of the chemicals but the facility
itself."

"Now, we were able to trace the source of the chemicals
from the shipping and receiving facility, and they were definitely from the
Carmike Chemical facility, however, management is stating that the chemicals
were stolen, and since there is no security footage available legally we have
no recourse to accuse the company of involvement."

Jackson sighed weakly, nodding.

Mulberry drew a breath in as Jimmy Howe nodded to him.
"Mr. Pike, what I'm about to tell you is classified."

Jackson nodded. He was no stranger to top secret
information. "Go ahead."

Mulberry paused, "Susan Winters, the woman you claimed
to have witnessed murdered at the Carmike Facility, was working with me. I was
her point of contact at The Bureau. Before she disappeared, she had called me
with what she stressed was very important information. That was Thursday
evening. I never heard from her again." He shook his head.

"She was found dead in her car, along with another
Carmike employee, a man that you claim to have killed at your residence. His
name is Mohammed Fatal."

"The problem," Mulberry continued, "is that
their injuries appear consistent with those sustained in an automobile
accident.

Jackson shook his head. "That's why Fatal broke her
neck, instead of putting a bullet in her head. That was the disposal plan all
along."

Jackson knew that there'd be no way to differentiate a
broken neck from a car crash and a couple snapped vertebrae from an assassination.

Mulberry nodded. "You are probably right. The problem
is
,
we cannot prove any of it. Right now, all we have
is your word."

Jackson nodded.

Howe and Mulberry both paused for a moment, glancing at one
another. Howe spoke next.

"There are still some things that we are looking into.
We have a request in to a federal judge for a warrant to search the Special
Security Group headquarters in Norfolk. With the level of interest in this
investigation, we assume we'll get permission."

Mulberry nodded. "But if we don't find anything there,
I'm afraid we'll have nothing to go on. Whoever is responsible for this took
great efforts to ensure that all the evidence points to a small, independent
group of young men, all of whom carried Iranian passports and temporary student
visas."

Jackson was speechless.

For the first time, he was starting to realize that what he
knew might not matter to these men or to the US Government. All that mattered
was what the evidence could prove.

Howe was quiet, it was as if he could see the disappointment
and rage clouding Jackson's mind as they briefed him on the seemingly countless
dead ends in their investigation.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Pike." Howe said, "I can see
that this is upsetting."

Jackson nodded. "They aren't going to get away with
this." His voice was steely as his eyes narrowed; his heart
rate monitor
beeping rapidly as he shifted further into an
upright position. "They aren't going to get away with murdering my
family."

Both Mulberry and Howe were quiet. Jackson's intensity and conviction
would have been enough to silence anyone. Both men shook their heads without
saying a word, before Howe spoke. "So far, Mr. Pike, it's looking like you
or the SWAT snipers eliminated everyone associated with this plot and everyone
involved in killing your ex wife and daughter."

Mulberry continued. "We have agents searching your
residence for DNA from the man you say that you encountered yesterday morning,
and a search of the Special Security Group headquarters is forthcoming, but if
we are unable to tie anyone with the Special Security Group to these crimes,
we'll have to assume this to be exactly what it looks like."

Jackson shook his head. "And what does it look
like?" He asked.

Mulberry looked Jackson in the eye and his voice was cold as
ice. "It looks like a terrorist attack on the United States sponsored by
the Iranian government."

10:00 AM- Sunday,
September 10
^th

Sumner, VA

The phone vibrated insistently on Julie Page's nightstand as
she shook the cobwebs from her head. The effects of last night's Merlot were
clearing from her brain as she peered around her room for the device.

She soon located the device and glanced quickly at the
number. It was Officer Howe.

Julie's hands began to shake as she stood up, tossing the
heavy blankets from her body and peering out the window into the late morning
sun. "Hello."

Howe responded immediately, and Julie could hear the fatigue
in his voice. "Ms. Page, this is Officer Howe. Have you been watching the
news?"

Julie glanced at her television, which was still set to CNN.
"I just woke up."

She reached for the remote, adjusting the volume before
settling on the edge of her quilt.

Julie's attention was split between the television and the
phone. The lead story was unbelievable. Last night, a terrorist plot to attack
twelve major American cities had been discovered and foiled by an as yet
identified person.

Howe didn't give her much more time to absorb the story.

"I'm sorry to call so early, Ms. Page." He said,
interrupting the news. "But I wanted you to be the first to know. Jackson
Pike was not responsible for the murders of Leigh and Clementine on Friday
night."

Julie breathed a sigh of relief. Somehow, she had known all
along that Jackson couldn't have been capable of that kind of brutality against
his own family.

"Do you have someone in custody?" She asked,
standing up and walking out of her bedroom to the kitchen where she filled a
glass with tap water and took a long drink.

Howe paused for a moment. "It's a long story. But it's
all tied up in this terrorist plot. We think that Jackson stumbled across the
theft of the chemicals that these men used in their weapons. The men went in
search of Jackson and unfortunately found Leigh and Clementine."

Julie nodded to herself. "Go on."

"Jackson tracked the men responsible to
an abandoned
shipping and receiving facility on the river
and called the police. By the time we got there, he had killed all but four of
the twelve men involved in the terrorist plot."

Julie took another long drink of water and glanced once more
at her television. Helicopters circled above the facility, their telephoto
lenses sweeping across the large brick building. "So Jackson is the
unnamed hero that the media is talking about?"

Howe took a breath. He really shouldn't be telling anyone
this, "That's right. And he could really use a friend."

Julie set the water down on her wooden roll top desk.
"Where are you?" She asked, without hesitating.

Jimmy spoke softly.
"Memorial
Hospital in Sumner.
Room 113.
He's been in and
out of consciousness all morning, but seems to be very lucid. A visit from
friends or acquaintances would definitely help with his outlook, if nothing
else."

"I'll be there in a bit." She said simply.

Jimmy interrupted before she could hang up the phone.
"Does he have any other friends, acquaintances that I should
contact?"

Julie laughed without mirth. "No. Jackson never really
was the type to have friends. He's always kept to himself and has no family
that I know of. Leigh and Clementine were all he had. Well, that and the
SEALs."

Jimmy exhaled, suddenly finding
himself
sad for the man who rested just beyond the wooden door of the hospital in the
Intensive Care Unit of Memorial Hospital. "Thanks, Julie. This really
means a lot."

She flipped the plastic earpiece of her phone shut and set
the telephone on her kitchen counter. She frowned, a tear coming to her eye as
she stepped back into her bedroom.

What kind of a man has no one to visit him in the hospital
but a work colleague of his ex-wife, she wondered sadly as she pulled on a pair
of jeans and a black t-shirt, glancing in the mirror and running her fingers
through her long brown hair.

She walked to her front door, wiping a tear away from her
right cheek. She would need to hold it together this morning.

If not for her own sake, then for Leigh and Clementine, she
thought as she took a deep breath and stepped into the cool humidity of the mid
September morning.

10:15 AM- Sunday,
September 10
^th

Sumner, VA

Jimmy Howe was on his fifth cup of coffee. But even with the
caffeine pumping through his system, he was having a hard time staying awake
and alert.

He was sitting outside of Jackson Pike's hospital room,
offering the other two officers who had been sitting here all night a short
respite while he polished off the last of his black coffee.

He peered deeply into the paper cup that he held in his
trembling hands. The dark coffee was like a mirror in the bright fluorescent
lights of the hospital hall. The mirror reflected his face, a face haggard from
the events of the past few days.

Jimmy took a deep breath.

Agent Mulberry had requested one more interview with Jackson
this morning. After that, hopefully Howe would be able to climb into a much
deserved and long overdue slumber in his own bed.

He heard Mulberry approaching and stood up. The man was
nothing if not punctual, thought Howe as he glanced down the gleaming
passageway that led to the hospital's Emergency Room.

Mulberry shook his head and before Howe had a chance to say
a word.
"Seems you have a leak, Jimmy."

Jimmy had not left the small confines of the hospital
hallway and cafeteria since early this morning. He had no idea what the FBI
Agent was referring to.

"What are you talking about, Brad. I've been here all
morning" replied Howe, his face showing the strain of the past day, and
his tone impatient with the accusation.

"Someone leaked to the press that the international
hero who foiled the terrorist bombing plot is right here in Sumner.
At this very hospital."
Mulberry shook his head.

Howe heard the helicopters a moment later. "Fuck."

Mulberry shook his head. "That's what I said. It looks
like a goddamn press convention out there. Someone is going to have to make a
statement."

Howe looked down, his hand going to his cell phone. The
Chief would want to make a statement, he felt certain. He recalled his haggard
reflection in his coffee, noting that it would certainly not be him.

The phone rang once before the Chief answered. "I'm
aware of the situation, Jimmy. I'm on my way to the hospital now. How did this
information get out?"

Jimmy stammered as he spoke. "I don't know, sir. It
could have been any of the hospital staff. What is certain is that it was not
anyone associated with our department."

"I understand. This story was bound to get out sooner
or later. I'll keep a lid on his identity for as long as I can, but make sure
you let him know, eventually the press will figure out who he is, and they'll
come looking for him."

Jimmy exhaled loudly, "I will, sir."

He hung up the phone and tucked the device into the left
pocket of his blue pants before adjusting his law enforcement belt.

"Shall we?" he asked stepping towards the door to
Jackson's hospital room and glancing nonchalantly towards Agent Mulberry.

Mulberry followed close behind as Howe opened the door to
Jackson's room. The patient was awake, and sat staring out the window into the
approaching fall outside, his face a mask of melancholy and loneliness.

Jackson turned his head, nodding in acknowledgment towards
the two law enforcement professionals. He shifted his weight towards the men
and pushed himself to a sitting position in his hospital bed. "Good
morning, gentlemen."

Both men nodded a brief acknowledgement and stood side by
side at the foot of Jackson's bed.

"It seems I'm famous." Jackson almost cracked a
smile as he pointed to the news helicopters circling outside of his window.

Howe chuckled. "You won't have to talk to them until
you are ready."

Jackson did not return Jimmy's mirth. "I'll never be
ready. What did you gentlemen find out?"

Mulberry was first. "I'll keep this short, Mr. Pike. We
have made a positive ID on the man you claimed to have killed in your home. DNA
analysis has proven the man to be none other than Mohammed Bin Abdul."

The agent set his black briefcase on the table next to
Jackson's hospital bed and pulled a manila file from within. He unfolded the
file and pointed out a photograph and dossier on the man he had referred to as
Mohammed Bin Abdul.

Jackson could not forget the face. It was him. The man he'd
seen at the chemical distribution center. The man he'd seen murder Susan
Winters; the man who had likely killed his family.

Jackson's hands began to shake as he held up the photo in
the early morning light that cascaded from the hospital's windows. "On the
news, they identified him as Mohammed Fatal."

Mulberry nodded. "From what we've been able to
ascertain, it appears that this man stole the identity of an American citizen
named Mohammed Fatal. Using fake identification and even military records, he
was able to obtain employment at none other than the Norfolk branch of Carmike
Industries' Special Security Group."

Mulberry continued, "We believe this was all in an
effort to use the company's resources to carry out his planned attack."

Jackson took a deep breath and closed the manila folder,
before handing it back to Mulberry.

"That's not all." It wasn't a question. Based on
the look on Mulberry's face, Jackson knew there was more to this story.

"Mohammed Bin Abdul was an Iranian national." Mulberry
glanced at Howe. "A former member of the Iranian secret
police,
and a professional assassin with an Interpol record as long as any I've ever
seen."

Jackson nodded. "So, because he was able to dupe the
personnel folks at the Special Security Group with fake credentials, he's
offered the company plausible deniability."

Mulberry nodded. "Association does not imply guilt. And
in this case, that's all we have."

Jackson's pulse began to quicken, the heart monitor next to
him beginning to beep more insistently. "Were you able to at least place
him at Leigh's home? Mine?"

"We found no usable DNA or genetic material in either
location. The blood we located at your home was fouled with some sort of
solvent, most likely a simple bleach solution. As for your ex-wife's home, it
was a clean crime scene as well."

"Did you check the Carmike SSG facility in town?"
Jackson's voice was beginning to crack, his heart rate monitor beeping more
insistently with each passing moment.

It was Howe's turn. "We served the warrant this
morning. The entire third floor of the facility is a construction zone. The
carpet has been torn up, cubicles ripped out. Not a trace of evidence of any
corporate involvement."

Jackson frowned. "So, you have nothing."

"Unfortunately, Jackson" said Howe, using
Jackson's first name and placing his hand on his shoulder, "all we have is
your word. Any and all evidence that could have indicated any guilt or
association on the part of Carmike Industries has been destroyed. Your
testimony will be refuted as based on the behavior of one man; Mohammed Fatal.
A man that the company will claim was a rogue operative."

Mulberry frowned and took a deep breath. "Mr. Pike, I
don't like this any more than you do, but we have no legal justification for
following up with Carmike. We're going to have to let this one go."

Mulberry nodded curtly and stepped from the room. Howe
paused for a moment and faced Jackson, whose face was a mask of frustration and
anger. "One thing I forgot to mention, Jackson."

Jackson looked Howe in the eyes and waited, his heart rate
slowing as Howe looked at his feet for a second before glancing up.

"The third floor of that building, the construction
zone," he paused. "Before I was a cop, I used to work construction.
I've never been to a construction zone before that wasn't absolutely covered in
dust. That was the cleanest damn construction zone I've ever seen."