The Screaming Eagles (15 page)

Immediately bristling at the implied threat, and the man’s attitude, Michael answered, mimicking Dani’s insolent tone. “Listen to me Mister Hot Shot cop. I don’t care who the fuck you are, I make a better living selling electronics to little old ladies then you do buried in this coffin of an office a homeless person would be ashamed of to call a shack. You Mr. Cop, have to call it an office three hundred and sixty five fucking days and nights, every fucking year. I don’t need your threats and all this other horseshit of playing a movie tough guy, so get off my back or I walk out right now, asshole. Secondly sport, not you or anyone else is going to put me under hypnosis. Who I am, sport, or what I am sport, has nothing to do with you. Understand, sport? Do I make myself clear asshole?”

Michael got up and walked to the door. Dani took two steps toward him. Michael saw him out the corner of his eye and tensed, expecting to get grabbed or punched. Angrily, he turned to defend himself. Michael saw that Dani was grinning at him.

“Hanan said you had a short fuse, nice to know hot blood dribbles through your miserable veins, not just blocks of ice.” Extending his hand, he grasped Michael’s. “Welcome to Subversives, Mickey, you and I are going to get along okay, I need a bit of piss and vinegar around here.” Hesitating at the sudden show of friendliness, Michael knew that if he were a target, he’d need any help Dani and the police force could give him.

“My guy’s on his way over. He’ll meet you at our identification section. Mickey, I want you to work fast. Accuracy first, speed second.”

Tension draining away, feeling a little more relaxed by the man’s sudden change of attitude, Michael asked, “Isn’t a composite and an identikit a waste of time, why not one or the other?”

“Good point. Good to see, you’re on the ball. One of them is going to be more accurate; you get to choose. We need an exact likeness or as close as possible. Try to remember their profiles as well as full face, head shape, hair styles, the build of their bodies, tall, short, medium, whatever. I want their girlfriends to get all excited when they see pictures. Our Chicago ladies of the streets for the right fee can take most tourists to any paradise they choose. Before going to their Farsi paradise up on high, maybe they decided to party a little bit and wanted to try a last paradise on earth, catch my drift? If we can get the composites onto the street, some of the girls might remember them. Let’s go.”

Michael followed him down the stairs two at a time. They took a right down a narrow passage, walked a few steps then Dani opened a door marked Professor Russell Leslie, CHA. He motioned Michael to follow him in.

“Russell, this is Michael. Need your best, Russ, no farting around, okay?” He closed the door. Michael sat down in a chair next to Russell. Russell, must have weighed over three hundred pounds, he was enormous. Grossly fat, his neck overflowed his collar. Big watery eyes looked through thick bifocals at Michael. He breathed loudly through his half-open mouth.

“Hi, understand big daddy’s in a hurry. Describe one of the people. Was his face round, square, fat, thin, long, young, old? Those are the types of things I need to know. Is he black, brown, white, yellow?”

Michael closed his eyes concentrating on the leader of the group. He could see his face clearly. Could see coldness and suspicion in his eyes. “Iranian, Middle Eastern, swarthy skin tone, middle thirties, five ten, black curly hair, no gray, no mustache. Thin face, longish aquiline nose, flared nostrils, heavy thick eyebrows, moles, a small cluster above left eyebrow.”

Using a pencil and an eraser, Russell started with the shape of the face. He worked quickly, making changes as Michael directed. Unbelievably a face began to appear the likeness was incredible. They started on the second face. Still breathing through his half-open mouth, Russell began to sweat. Sweat poured down his face, through his hair and dripped onto his collar streaming in a widening pool down his back. Wheezing, he sketched and sketched until satisfied, Michael held pictures of all five men. Each picture was numbered one through five. Red faced his eyes now filmy and slightly bloodshot, Russell asked if he was sure that there were no more changes. Michael had about an eighty-percent likeness enough he felt to identify them. For the past hour they’d been going round and round trying to get a more exact resemblance, but were unable to and kept on returning to the same features. Michael was tired and frustrated, unlike Russell who was finding energy from some unknown source. Finally, realizing this was about the best he could hope for he said to Russell, “That’s it, let’s go.”

“We go one floor down.” Heavily, he pushed himself up from his desk, grunting as he did so. Michael followed him to the next floor smelling the heat of the man’s sweat as Russell walked. He drew deep short breaths, gasping as if he suffered from emphysema. Stopping, he opened a door and introduced Michael to a man named Rowley. “Guy, your turn now, I’m finished. How is Anat?”

“Fine, Russell, just fine. She got back from Logan Square yesterday. Joanie and Emma from Oak Park, you remember them. Some of the Comisky’s as well as the Crockett’s, Mike and Cindy, are coming over this evening. Why don’t you join us? We plan to talk about the bad old days at Kent. Why don’t you bring Gina and Michelle? See you about seven old chap?”

Russell, still breathing heavily, nodded and closed the door.

Michael heard Rowley’s broad British accent and wondered what a Brit was doing in the Chicago Police.

“I’m ever so pleased to meet you, old boy. Do you see this jolly old projector and all its funny little gadget things? Well, old boy, we, you and I, are going to play ourselves a really fascinating little game. This ATI stock projector was a great investment, and helps me to build up and create facial likeness. Fascinating, what? Be a good fellow and look through these old folders. Like fingerprints, we earth people all fall under standard characteristics unless we’re deformed or damaged goods. Ha, ha. Just joking old man, just joking. Let’s get on with it old chap, you’ll find it ever so interesting.”

He opened a folder marked “foreheads.” Rowley kept on turning pages until Michael saw number-one’s forehead. Pursing his lips, humming softly to himself, Rowley extracted a thin sheet of plastic, put it onto the top of his projector, noting its code number. Quickly Michael found eyebrows, eyes, nose, lips, chin,
etc.
Each time Rowley positioned them carefully, checking to make sure if angles and spacing were correct. When Michael nodded, he fastened them onto the sheet using paper clips.

Soon, number one’s face was complete, including the cluster of moles. Code numbers were written on the bottom of each page. Michael had his first identikit face. They started working on number two. By the time they’d finished number five, Michael’s head was spinning, the corners of his eyes stung, hurting like hell. A clock above Rowley’s desk showed five thirty. Michael had been doing composites and identikits for more than five hours.

Still humming, Rowley lifted his telephone, punched in some numbers and said, “We’re finished, okay, I’ll bring him now.” He got up smartly, his movements economical and quick. “Let’s go, old chap. ‘Twas absolutely delightful meeting you. Good show, old man. For a first timer you were really pretty damn good, you know. Would have enjoyed having a bit of a chat with you, and we could’ve had a spot of real English tea, but the man upstairs wants you in his office right away. We should do it again some time. Pop by anytime you’re in the area.”

Walking fast, they went down a long passage. Michael could hear typewriters echoing, banging and clanging away behind closed doors. Stacks of cardboard boxes stood chest high on both sides of each door. Rowley stopped at a door, pointing for Michael to enter. “This is the one. Cheers, see you around.” With a wave that was half a salute, head down as if he was examining the floorboards, he walked away humming to himself. Michael opened the door holding both sets of identikits and composites.

Michael entered the office Dani inclined his head toward a man standing next to the filing cabinet. Jabbing the air with a pen pointing in the man’s direction he said, “Meet my head of Subversives, Mickey, Perry Blatt.”

The man took a step forward his hand outstretched. The handshake caught Michael by surprise, crushing his fingers with its firmness, unconsciously making Michael strengthen his grip in response. The man was about his own age and his smile shadowing his face seemed unforced and easy which created a myriad of tiny wrinkles at the corner of his eyes.

“How do you know Hanan?” was Michael’s reply to the handshake and Dani’s calculated disinterest in saying anything further.

“Hanan told us that he’s contacted the Israeli government, and they’ll see what they can turn up. We’ll be in constant contact with him. He also told me that he trusts you completely. As far as I’m concerned, with a recommendation like that, we’ll treat you like you’re one of our group, so anything you don’t understand, ask. Hanan and I are the ‘M and M’ twosome. ‘M and M’ stands for militant militias and militant Muslims. We met after the World Trade Center bombing which was the work, as you know of fundamentalist Muslims. However, we began working together after the Oklahoma City bomb when America woke up to the fact that they were being targeted by the Muslims as an external threat and the militias s an internal problem. Hanan and I have a theory that eventually the militant wings of the militias and Muslims will find each other and form a partnership leading to a lot of lives lost. For different reasons they ultimately are looking to achieve the same objectives, the destruction of America, as we know it. In Hanan’s case it’s the destruction of Israel. The two groups so far working independently want a different type of America and or Israel. So, Hanan and I work together and have been doing so for a few years now, to see that they don’t succeed. Sometimes we win; sometimes they’re too smart for us and we lose big time. In Subversives we study a lot of counterintelligence from different countries. Mossad is one of the most important studies as their counter-terrorism methods are second to none. Their guys visit with us regularly and I’ve been to Israel twice.”

“Why don’t we sit down someplace alone, and you tell me what happened.”

Michael followed him into the office alongside Dani’s. The tape recorder had been set up on the desk. Turning it on he translated as Perry listened.

“Shit, I think you’re right. This might be the break we’ve needed for the busses. Unless something else comes up soon, my gut tells me these are our guys.”

“Am I in any way their target?”

“No.”

“Why are you so sure?”

Perry shrugged, “A long time ago when I was a young man, I had a friend named Cracker Lee who farmed rattlers. He sold them mainly to zoos. One night he showed me how a rattler can spot its prey even in the dark because it has a built-in sensor that allows it to hunt at night. A snake hunts its prey carefully and quietly and then strikes with a swiftness that is truly incredible to see. Able to incapacitate much larger animals, it’s a magnificent efficient killing machine. When you went into the hotel room, if you were their target, there’s no way those snakes would have let you come out alive. They’d have had your picture front and profile and known you were the owner of an electronics company and recognized you just as soon as you walked into their room. They could’ve found you in the dark, just like a snake would’ve, and eliminated you any time that they chose, slowly or with one shot depending on their mood.”

He shook his head, “Not to worry, I’m not a betting man but you don’t have to look over your shoulder, it’s not you they’re after. If they were, you wouldn’t be here now. We’d probably have pulled your body out of Lake Michigan. However, you can be invaluable to us. You’re the only one so far that’s seen them and we can presume that they don’t know they’re on tape.”

“What now?”

“Briefing room,” said Perry.

“What’s that?”

“We’ve taken over a situation room. Follow me. I’ll update you while we walk. Until it’s over, situation room is our home. Dani’s in charge of the mid-west Subversive Unit, which is the multi-jurisdictional unit monitoring domestic terrorism. The various militias and overseas terrorist groups are considered by us as an identical threat ‘cause they both plant bombs and usually take hostages. Both groups are armed to the teeth and want our government to be overthrown through violence. We fall under Congress’s discretionary budget. Most cities have their own units similar to ours. We’re police, but have far more latitude than cops on the beat. We fall into a sort of gray area. The Subversive teams will be briefed, as will the FBI. We have to bring everyone up to date, divide up duties, then, go find them.”

Perry stopped talking as they entered a large, well-lit room full of people talking quietly to each other in small groups. Maps of Chicago took up one complete wall. A screen and slide projector, two easels with blackboards, erasers, different colored chalks and identikits were piled neatly on one of the tables. Notepads, pencils and a coffee machine were on the other. Multi-line phones, some with lights flashing, were scattered all around the room. At least one phone was on each of the tables. Near Dani was a large radio communications monitor emitting static and growling softly. Dani called Perry over, gesturing to them to sit next to him. The thirty or so people suddenly quieted, and made their way to their seats. Standing up abruptly, Dani glared across the room, cleared his throat and began talking in clipped police jargon explaining who Michael was, what he’d done, and how the tape had come into his possession. Curtly he asked Michael to get up, play the tape and translate simultaneously. Michael looked at his audience. All were in casual to grubby clothes. A quarter or so were women. Each of them had a small pile of composites, as he spoke, most took notes.

Some were chewing gum, others leaning back in their chairs, arms folded, watching him intently. No one smoked. Dani’s no-smoking crusade had obviously reached out from his office to this room. When Michael finished, he sat down and looked around. Examining the crowd more closely, he saw their jeans, pierced ears, tattoos and hairstyles, judging them to vary in ages from twenty-five to forty-five. All looked to be typical Chicagoans ordinarily seen walking in the street or inside any shop. None gave the faintest impression that they were police. He marveled how easily they could blend into any group of people, fooling them with their outward appearances looking exactly the way they were supposed to look with body language that matched. Actors, that’s what they were, actors playing his or her part on a daily basis. How many would sleep tonight free of anxiety, an anxiety he still acutely felt ominously invading his mind as he imagined the Iranians finding him.