The Killing Chase (Beach & Riley Book 2) (4 page)

The monster didn’t care what the police thought, as his planning and execution were so meticulous that no incriminating evidence was ever found. The only certainty the police and FBI knew was that violent deaths were occurring all over the country with the same details and modus operandi. Naturally they suspected a serial killer but with nothing to give them any direction, they were left scratching their heads. 

Foxx broke his silence. “So the scene we’re going to, it’s exactly the same as Adler’s crime scenes?”

“I’m afraid so. This couple was brutally murdered and their young son is now left an orphan just like in Adler’s infamous crimes.”

“Like I said, man - one twisted son of a bitch.”

The two partners continued to discuss details and investigative strategy until they arrived at their destination in Poughkeepsie. The SUV’s GPS system guided them down a small street until yellow and black crime-scene tape came into view strung around the property’s boundary. It was nearly ten o’clock at night. The crime scene technicians and preliminary investigation officers had long since finished their jobs and left the site in darkness. Foxx left the car lights on, and pointed at the house, to guide their entrance.  They ducked under the tape to walk across the front yard, and pushed open the front door of the brick bungalow. What they saw in the middle of the living room resembled a massive reproduction of bad 1970’s Pop Art in deep reddish-brown.

The grey nylon carpet was heavily matted with congealing blood and clumped in various directions by random footprints during removal of the parents’ bodies from the scene. Beach and Foxx would need to view the crime scene photographs to see the exact location and positions in which the bodies were originally found. Those details were secondary, though, as Foxx stood with his eyes transfixed on the gruesome scene before him. Alan sunk to his haunches at the edge of the vast bloodstain, recalling in vivid detail a similar scene in Dr. Helen Benson’s apartment in Columbus, Ohio.

Even a year later he was overcome with emotion recalling Dr. Benson’s husband in the aftermath of his wife’s murder. The distraught man had been covered in Helen Benson’s blood from his attempts to revive her. Inconsolable during questioning, he’d been unable to provide any reason his wife would commit suicide. Mr. Benson’s sincerity and genuine shock had formed part of Beach’s motivation to dig so deeply into the circumstances of her death. Suspicious surveillance footage and other evidence had eventually led him to discover that the serial killer, Bryan Adler, was not responsible for Benson’s death. Alan had kept digging until he eventually uncovered the massive Devlin conspiracy, which led to his recruitment by the FBI.

Shaking himself free of the tragic memory, Beach focused on the larger and even gorier scene before him. After a few moments of contemplation, he stood, turning to his partner. Foxx had been scratching his head as if still in disbelief, but now, as he brought his hand down past his line of sight, his eyes bulged with the realization that his fingers were covered in thick, dark blood. Alan’s face contorted too, seeing a trail of the oozing liquid slide slowly down his partner’s forehead like red molasses. Beach’s mind raced, trying to grasp what was happening, as a deep, creaking groan emanated from above them.

The two FBI agents jerked their heads upward to see that a six-foot oval of the plasterboard ceiling was sagging badly. The groan changed to a sharper sound just before, seemingly in slow motion, the entire section of ceiling collapsed onto the floor directly in front of Foxx, leaving small chunks of the chalky material stuck in his hair. The crashing sounds of drywall hitting the floor was accompanied by a deeper thud. Alan stared in horror at the floor between him and his partner. Foxx shook his head vigorously to free his hair and eyes of the dust and fallen debris. The moist darkness surrounding his eyes contrasted comically against his dust covered face. As his vision began to clear, it took a couple of seconds for his mind to process the scene. He could manage only two words - “Holy shit!”

On the floor between them lay the dead body of a large, muscular man. He was dressed in black, complete with military-style combat boots and gloves. His face was beaten beyond recognition.

Chapter 4

Mike Lee’s revelation had briefly thrown the normally unflappable Jake Riley into an emotional whirlpool. The big man shook his head, as though resetting his brain. He leaned in close to Mike, so they could hear each other over the cacophony of loud music and street-market sounds. “How is that possible? You told me the case file was completely inaccessible. I even got
Equilibrium
to hack into the CIA records system, but there’s no electronic record.”

  Mike looked surprised. “Equilibrium is probably the best computer jock in the world, but since the only existing file is on hard copy, and
eyes only
for the Director, there’s no way to access it electronically. But what are you doing mixed up with that hacker anyway? Wasn’t he a CIA target a few years ago?”

Jake paused, realizing Mike didn’t know Equilibrium was actually a woman – a beautiful woman with whom he now had a very personal relationship.  

In fact, he decided, it would be best to keep details of his new lover secret from Mike. “Turned out the boys at Langley had it wrong. Equilibrium was removed from the target list. Anyway, let’s get back on point. How the hell did you find out about Shane’s killer - and what’s his name?”

Now it was Lee’s turn at secrecy. “All I can tell you is, I got it from a friend in the NSA - any more than that and I’m jeopardizing my contact. But believe me when I say the intel is rock-solid. The name is Sergey Ugolev. He’s definitely the guy who fired the shots that killed your brother.”

Jake’s elite military training, and years of experience in dangerous covert operations, made him a different kind of man. The news that he might finally have the chance to avenge his brother’s death was deeply savored, but the effects of this revelation remained invisible to the outside world. Emotion was not something Jake outwardly expressed, especially in such solemn matters. Not that he was devoid of true feeling - far from it - but his experiences had molded his public persona to the point where even his closest associates had difficulty discerning changes in his mood.

With the name, Sergey Ugolev, burning indelibly into his mind, Jake’s mouth formed an almost imperceptible grin. “How long do I have to wait?”

“Not long, my friend. He’s on the move right now, but my guy says he’ll be in Pattaya the day-after-tomorrow, checking up on his Thai operations. I know your sights are set, but there’s nothing you can do right now, so let’s take the night to catch up on old times then head down there tomorrow afternoon for some recon. I’ve got transport arranged for 1300 hours. Sound good?”

Jake reached over to pat his friend on the shoulder. “If this pans out, I’ll owe you a big one.”

“It’ll pan out - but you won’t owe me shit. I seem to remember you saving my neck more than once. We’ll talk details on the way down, but I’ve got a couple of Thai Special Branch cops and the Aussie brothers lined up, so we’ve got our team.”

“No offense, but you know I work alone.”

“Not this time, bro. I’m assuming you want this to be up-close and personal, so a sniper assault is out. And his operation may be too big for a single-man insertion. Unless the recon says otherwise, we’re going with a team. I trained the Thais myself, so don’t worry, they’re good-to-go. And you already know the brothers are squared-away.”

Jake bristled at first, but gave in. “Okay, strategy is your specialty, and you’ve never let me down before. But know this – anyone gets in my way, or tries to take the target out themselves, might as well be playing for the other team. And you know what that means.”

“Don’t worry – the point is crystal clear. Dozer and Priest are just as close as you and Shane were. You think they don’t understand the situation? And the Thais are along for the ride, as a courtesy. We might not even need them, but we’ve got to keep the locals happy.”

“What about the Agency? Do the embassy boys know what’s going down? I don’t want any suit-wearing, political-correctness police riding in on white stallions to screw things up. This is a kill mission – pure and simple.”

“I’ve got it under control. Just leave the details to me - and be ready to do your thing when the time comes. Now - I think that calls for a beer or seven, don’t you?”

Jake acquiesced. “Okay, tonight we drink. But tomorrow - strictly business.”

*****

              Jake rose at nine-thirty the next morning, thankful he’d interspersed generous quantities of water throughout the night’s drinking. Mike Lee’s news, and the prospect of an opportunity to avenge his brother’s death, had ensured the big man kept his alcohol intake to a manageable level. Residual effects were limited to a mild case of dehydration, which would soon pass. He showered and dressed, then went to knock on Tik’s door across the hall. Before his knuckles could make contact, the heavy door swung open to reveal Tik, fully dressed and waiting. Her preparedness surprised him.

              She cocked her head to one side. “You think I not know something wrong? I see you and Mr. Mike talk last night. I know you face. I see you drink water too much. I know something wrong.”

              Jake knew that if there was anyone who really understood his disposition, it was the staunch little woman before him. “Sorry, Tik – I should have told you last night, but you were busy with your new friend - and I had a lot on my mind.”

              Jake explained Mike Lee’s news. Tik knew Jake’s only remaining family member had been killed during a risky covert operation in the Ukraine. She also knew the brothers’ high-profile parents had been killed years earlier, in a mid-air explosion aboard their private jet. Upon her evacuation to America, Tik had chosen to become Jake’s personal assistant, cook and housekeeper. It was an arrangement which suited them both. She needed something to keep her occupied in her adopted home, and Jake trusted her implicitly. He’d not only given her a new life, but a better life than she could have hoped for in her home country. She, in turn, made the details of his life easier for him. She received a generous salary and rent-free apartment as payment, but they both knew she would happily do it for free. Not long after their mutually beneficial arrangement had begun, Jake told her about his parents’ deaths, and ensuing events.

Shane was fifteen, and Jake thirteen, when the accident had taken their parents. As orphaned minors, the boys had been sent to live with their godparents, a maternal aunt and uncle in Canada, until they came of age. The loss had profoundly affected both boys; Shane in particular. The gifted athlete and former honor student was at an impressionable age, and became sullen and withdrawn. His schoolwork had suffered, and he’d been suspended for fighting with a high school senior, seriously injuring the older boy. Shane’s formidable size and increasingly bad behavior had eventually convinced his guardians to send him to board at a strict military academy in the States. His initial resistance had soon been overcome by the guiding routine of military life, and Shane’s behavior and performance had eventually returned to normal.

Though the boys weren’t their natural-born children, their aunt and uncle loved them both and did their best to treat them as their own. When Shane’s behavioral problems had improved, his godparents invited him to return to their home. But despite the lure of reuniting with his younger brother, he’d eschewed the offer of a return to freedom in favor of military discipline and training. It seemed he’d found his calling. Shane had later requested his guardians’ permission for early enlistment in the U.S. military and ultimately went on to become a decorated Navy SEAL.

At the doorway of her room, the tough little Laotian stared into Jake’s eyes. He was in battle-mode - she knew the look well. “What we wait for? We go get asshole now!” She bustled back into her room to grab her already packed bag, cursing their prey under her breath. Loyalty meant everything to Tik, and Jake knew she would throw herself into the venture without care for her own safety. In her culture, vengeance was virtually a holy calling, and she’d adopted his vendetta as her own. He would have to keep an eye on her.

After breakfast and checkout, Jake and Tik waited inside the hotel’s front door for Mike and the team to pick them up. The same doormen Jake had tipped the day before glanced furtively at the pair, curious to see what the big generous American might do next. Tik cast them a stern glare, embarrassing them into turning away.

Jake smiled, but admonished her: “They’re not doing any harm.”

“I not like men try to get free money. Not honor.”

Jake knew any attempt to moderate Tik’s opinion was futile, so let it slide. Soon a large silver van with blackened windows entered the driveway, breaking the tension. “That’ll be Mike and the boys.”

The doormen stood well back this time, as the automatic doors slid open to let Jake and Tik out. The van’s side door slid back to reveal Dozer, apparently fast asleep beside his brother. The larger of the pair took up more than his share of the three-person seat, but Priest, deeply absorbed in a book, was oblivious to the invasion of his space. Mike Lee, seated behind them, greeted Jake and Tik as they climbed in beside him. One Thai Special Branch cop was driving and the other dozed in the passenger seat. 

“We’ve got about two hours to relax before we can check out the Russians’ setup,” Mike said. “Might as well grab some shuteye - if you need it.”

“I’m good.” Jake said. “Are the boys sharp?”

“Always, mate,” Dozer answered without opening his eyes. “Takes more than a night on the piss, Jakey-boy. We’re right, mate.”

Dozer’s laconic Aussie style amused Jake. Cliché after cliché, he couldn’t help but like the Phillips brothers. Tik, on the other hand, ignored them, calling out, “
Bai laew, kha”
and the driver steered the van into traffic on Silom Road.

The two-hour trip was abbreviated to an hour-and-a-half thanks to the Thai policeman’s confident eighty miles-an-hour driving. The likelihood of being stopped for speeding was slim at best, and with his credentials, the driver would easily wave off any such stop. Jake studied the skyline ahead. It had been a few years since his last visit to the seaside resort city of Pattaya – things had changed. Massive new condominium towers dominated the horizon; some so tall and slender they seemed to defy the laws of physics. Huge billboards lined the highway, offering the lifestyles of kings lived out in thousand-square-foot sky-boxes. Other signs boasted the best
whatever
in Pattaya, while still others boasted the best
whatever
in all of Thailand. The visual cacophony clearly demonstrated the plastic unreality of this massive party town, which had grown beyond all recognition from its humble beginnings as a sleepy fishing village.

During the Vietnam conflict, entire battalions of U.S. and allied soldiers had been shipped into the area for cheap R&R. As is their way, the locals had quickly adapted to the onslaught, turning it to their financial advantage. They’d hastily erected shanties, beach shacks, eateries, and girly bars for the troops’ sustenance and amusement. The booze and entertainment were ridiculously cheap by U.S. standards, so more troops came, and more venues were built to accommodate them. By the end of the conflict, Pattaya’s bawdy entertainment scene had grown from a cottage industry into a money generating behemoth, directly affecting the country’s GDP. Dives and flop-houses had evolved into trendy boutique hotels and sprawling resorts, and the city drew not only weekend visitors from Bangkok, but big-spending tourists from America, Australia, Canada, and Britain.

The seaside resort had doubled in size every few years, resulting in its current overcrowded state of chaos. Seething masses of Russians, Indians, and Arabs now combined with busloads of herded tour groups from China, Korea, and other Asian countries. The uncontrolled influx had brought perpetual traffic snarls, local resentment, drunken brawls, and the relatively new phenomenon of violent street gangs. These were made up predominantly of school-age thugs, the bored offspring of workers who’d flocked to the lure of a better life than their home provinces could offer. The local press constantly featured headlines of high-speed motorcycle chases and gangland shootings. These incidents brought a blight on the acceptable norms of Thai culture, and traditional Thais blamed tourism.

Many of the property development billboards were now in Russian, a sign of the times for the area. Since some obviously shady deals had been struck between the Russian powers-that-bribe and the Thai hands-that-accept, direct flights from Moscow were landing with alarming frequency at the local Utapao Airport near Rayong. Russian tourists were granted sixty-day visas on arrival, while the rest of the world was lucky to get thirty. It was a bone of contention for many westerners and expats, who resented the sudden influx of ill-mannered, aggressive
Ivans
taking over their playground. Of course there were good people among the Russian tourists, but their comrades’ notoriously frugal spending habits meant the net effect was a reduction in tourist dollars available to the average Thai, particularly vendors and hawkers. As a result, market-stall vendors were no longer the good-natured negotiators from days-gone-by. The aggression and intolerance imported from the land of Stalin, Stroganoff, and Stoli had rubbed off on the locals.

Petty crime had risen exponentially since the influx. Culturally abhorrent in Thai Buddhist society, muggings, bag-snatching, and street violence had become commonplace. The invasion had also brought a growing Russian criminal element. Their illicit activities were mainly limited to white prostitution, drugs and real estate scams, but they were growing bolder. This was a factor in the Thai Special Branch’s decision to send two of their men with Mike Lee’s team. Aside from any intelligence they might glean, the operation could present other opportunities advantageous to their cause. Jake suspected their overt cooperation with the team covered a hidden agenda, but he wasn’t concerned at this stage. The authority their badges carried could be useful in a pinch, and if they made a wrong move, Jake would be on top of them in a heartbeat, local conventions be damned.