Blood Money (17 page)

Immediately, the first ram shot hit the door. It was followed by two more hits in rapid succession before the wood split and the two agents came rushing down the hallway. They stopped briefly at the doorway. Tom and Mark focused their flashlights on the door to the storage room. John motioned to the ram team and gestured toward the door. It only took one hit to knock the door from its hinges. As the door fell, they stepped aside. The whole operation took about fifteen seconds. It was totally dark inside the room. No sound came from inside. Mark bolted into the dark space and waved his flashlight around the room. It was empty except for a mattress, a bedpan, a roll of toilet paper and two chairs. John flipped on the light switch and the two bulbs flickered on to confirm the original findings. Susan was not there. Tom motioned toward the closet. Mark immediately rushed over to the door and flung it open. He jumped back as a mop fell towards him. Then he saw Susan curled up on the closet floor with a bunch of bottles. There was blood on the floor. She appeared to have a gunshot wound in her left shoulder. “Oh my God, she's been shot.”

He laid the shotgun down as Tom rushed over to help him remove Susan from the closet. She was curled up in a fetal position from her confinement in the closet. They carried her to the mattress, carefully straightened out her body and laid her on her side. Her hands were still taped behind her back. Mark took off his jacket and rolled it up into a pillow. Her eyes were open, but they were blank. She stared directly at him, but there was absolutely no sign of any recognition. Mark's heart sank. He felt for a pulse and found one, but it was very faint.

“She's alive,” he shouted as he gently removed the tape and sock from her mouth. As he did that, Tom cut the tape that bound her legs and arms. When she was free, they laid her on her back with her head on the makeshift pillow. Dennis and Tom removed their jackets and covered her as best they could. John was on the phone getting an ambulance. Susan had deep, dark bruises on both sides of her neck. Mark looked at Dennis, who just stood there not knowing what to do or say. Sue's breathing was labored. Mark held his handkerchief to the gunshot wound. Fortunately, most of the bleeding had already subsided.

“Oh God, Irish, what did they do to you?” he whispered. “Somebody get an ambulance, quick.”

“They're already on their way, Mark, be patient”, Wellman said. Then he dialed the Cleveland Police Department. “This is Special Agent Wellman. Put me through to Chief Jacobsen, immediately.” It took only ten seconds for Jacobsen to get on the line. “Chief, we have an agent down. She's in bad shape. I've already got an ambulance on the way. I will need your units to move in and secure the building immediately. Cordon it off as a crime scene. Nobody enters until our forensic guys get here. That'll be in about thirty minutes. I really appreciate this, Chief. I'm indebted to you.” Then he called the FBI forensic unit and directed them to the warehouse.

When he was finished with the calls, he came over to Mark and put his hand on his shoulder. “How is she doing?”

Mark just stared at him. “Where's that damn ambulance? Why the hell isn't it here?”

“They are on the way, Mark. Everyone is doing the best they can. Be patient.”

Just as John finished comforting him, he heard the sound of the siren moving toward them. In about a minute, the ambulance came to a stop in front of the building. Paramedics, wheeling a gurney, rushed down the hallway and into the room. They were led by an ER doctor dressed in a white coat who personally checked Sue's vital signs and ordered an IV. A paramedic removed Mark's handkerchief, cleansed the gunshot wound and applied a sterile bandage. The doctor turned to the paramedics and said, “Let's get her to hospital, stat. She's lost a lot of blood. We've got to get that bullet out of her.” He called ahead to the hospital to have an OR ready. The paramedics quickly wheeled the gurney back down the hall and raised it into the ambulance.

John remained at the site while Dennis and Mark rode with Susan to the hospital. They were silent the entire trip, each praying in their own way. Mark had only cried a few times in his life, mostly at his parent's funerals. The tears were forming in his eyes now, but he was holding them back. He reached deep down to his faith. As he affirmed that the spirit of God was at work in Susan at all times, he suddenly knew that she would survive this ordeal. He let the tears flow. They tears of relief, and of hope.

The next four hours would have been nerve-wracking, except for Mark's new found peace. When the ambulance arrived, the ER staff was already set up to move Sue to an operating room.

Special Agents Wellman and Norton needed to stay behind to coordinate the activities of the police department and FBI forensics team. Dennis and Mark promised to keep them updated on Susan's condition. Dennis would, of course, also try to find out as soon as possible who was responsible for her abduction. There was only one known suspect, John Portman, but they were also pretty sure that he did not act alone. Dennis needed Susan to fill in the blanks.

The hospital staff was very sensitive to the situation. While they were used to comforting loved ones, they seemed to want to work more closely with Dennis and Mark. The head nurse promised to bring them any updates as soon as she heard about Susan's condition. She even provided fresh coffee from the doctor's lounge. Two hours into the wait, she informed them that the bullet had been removed. It had missed her left lung, but had done extensive damage to the shoulder muscles and shattered her shoulder blade. The deep bruises on her neck were not serious, just numerous broken blood vessels from excessive pressure that had been applied there. At eight o'clock, Susan was moved into the recovery room. Mark called John to update him on Susan's condition. He was relieved. Chief Jacobsen arranged for an officer to guard her room around-the-clock. All that was left was to wait for her to regain consciousness. It would be at least two more hours.

Sue woke up around ten thirty. “Where,” was all she could get out before the dryness of her throat gagged her. The ICU nurse stepped into view. “Try not to talk right now. You're safe in the hospital, Susan. You've lost a lot of blood, so you're going to feel a little weak, but you're going to be all right. She reached out and squeezed Susan's hand lightly. Sue pulled her hand back, reflexively. The nurse was taken by surprise. She turned, left the room and went to the nurses' station to call for the doctor.

Dr. Kezdorf appeared within two minutes. He talked briefly with the nurse and then went into Susan's hospital room. Susan had slipped back into a light sleep. As the doctor was checking her, she opened her eyes again. “Well Susan, welcome back. I was worried about you for a while. You've been shot, but we removed the bullet. You're coming along nicely. There was some damage to your left shoulder that we will have to repair later when you're strong enough. But from what I can tell so far from the X-rays, you can expect to make a full recovery.” He gave her a soft, reassuring smile. Susan took it all in. Finally, she blinked her eyes as if to clear her head. It was finally registering that she was in a safe place. She had survived the ordeal, after all.

“By the way,” the doctor continued, “there are two gentlemen outside who are very anxious to talk with you. Normally, I would make them wait, but they are from the FBI and they say it is imperative that they have a few minutes with you. Do you feel up to it?”

Sue nodded affirmatively.

“I can only allow one in at a time, and then only for a few minutes. You have to build up your strength. I hope that you understand. It's for your own good.”

The doctor left the room and approached Dennis and Mark. “She's awake now. It will be a long process, but she should make a full recovery within a few months. We have concerns about her shoulder, though. The bullet that struck her shattered a sizeable section of her left shoulder blade. We will have to do some reconstructive surgery down the road. We will know more in a few days.” He looked at her chart for a second. “I can allow you in to see her, but only for a few minutes, and only one at a time. Is that understood?”

They both nodded in agreement.

Dennis motioned for Mark to go in first. “Thanks, Dennis. I promise I'll be brief.” He entered her room quietly and walked up to the bed. She had dozed off again. He watched her for a few minutes. Her beautiful red hair was still matted and full of warehouse dirt.
I guess that combing through hair was not a medical priority.
Her skin was very pale, except for the dark purple bruises on her neck. As a redhead, Susan was naturally fair skinned, but now her skin was actually ashen. She was hooked up to an IV and an oxygen tube. Mark was torn between letting her rest and his need to speak with her. He wanted her to know that he was there. He stepped up and spoke to her softly, “Sue it's me, Mark.”

She opened her eyes slowly. When she recognized him, she smiled. It was not her special smile, but he was glad to see it anyway. She reached her hand out to touch his.

“Mark, is that really you?”

“Yes, it is really me,” he assured her. “You're safe now. We got you out of that place just in time. The doctor says that you're doing fine. You've just got to get a lot of rest. You have been through a terrible ordeal.”

She struggled to speak. After a while, she said, “I knew you would save me. You're my knight in shining armor. Did you ride in on a big white horse to rescue me?” The question was followed by another slight smile.

“Well not exactly. We rode in a Hoover Blue Crown Vic. Actually, it took about twenty of us altogether. I have to leave now. Dennis is outside. He needs to ask you a few questions about what happened to you, if you're up to it.”

She nodded a yes, conserving her voice.

“I will be back as soon as they will let me. You hang in there, Irish.” He leaned over and kissed her softly on the forehead. His eyes welled up as he looked down at her.

She smiled and said, “I'll be right here, Mark.”

Mark left the room and made his way to an anxious Dennis.

“How's she doing?” he asked.

“She's weak, of course, but her spirits are good.”

Dennis went into her room and approached the bed. “Mark tells me your holding up well. We were all so worried about you. It was such an awful thing that you went through. I never should have left you exposed like that. Who did this to you, Susan? Was it John Portman?”

Sue nodded her head. The sound of his name ran a chill through her body. “He had three others with him. I didn't get any last names, but he called them Dick, George and Karl. I think Dick was the boss of the other two men.”

“We were pretty certain it was Portman. We have a nationwide search in effect for him. I'll call in those other three names. They're probably locals. It's quite possible that Chief Jacobsen will know who they are. Did you hear them say anything about where they were staying, anything at all that might help?

“No, I'm sorry, Dennis. They didn't say much around me. I had to tell them about Peter Thurston. I'm so sorry.”

“Don't you worry about that, we have him protected. I know you'll be happy to know that we got the subpoenas and we shut the NRBA down. It was a really successful raid thanks to the evidence you uncovered.”

“I knew that you had. That's why Portman shot me. I heard him talking to someone he called Mel. If I had died, it would have been a peaceful death, because for a split second before he pulled the trigger I had the satisfaction of knowing that we had won and that he knew it.”

“I sure wish it had come sooner, though, so we could have avoided all this. Damned red tape! We are really indebted to you, Susan, for getting us those records.” His voice softened as he said, “You know, I was really scared for you. I couldn't have lived with myself if anything had happened to you. Oh, and by the way, I know that you will be pleased to hear that Mark agreed to join us. He will be working as your computer center backup as soon as you get better.”

Susan smiled. “Well, then, it seems like there is more than one happy ending.” Her voice began to fade and her eyes were starting to droop. Her head began to bob. Dennis read the signals. “Let me get out of here for now. We'll talk later, Susan. Right now, you get lots of rest. There will be a guard posted right outside your door, 24/7, compliments of Cleveland Police Chief Jacobsen.

Susan closed her eyes and gave into the meds that were dripping continually into her IV. She felt at peace for the first time in weeks.

CHAPTER 25

Special Agent Wellman got a call to come down to Chief Jacobsen's office. They had picked up two suspects that he was certain were involved in Susan's abduction.

“Chief, I really want to thank you and your men for all your help. I don't know what we would have done without your backup.”

“You don't have to thank me, John. Just seeing that young lady freed and knowing that she's getting better is thanks enough for me. As a plus, we got two more felons off Cleveland's streets. I'll keep that guard on her 24/7 until she's ready to go home. It's the least I can do.”

“I want to tell you, Walt, your men did a great job finding that trash.” John was referring to burger wrappers, bottles, and a roll of duct tape found in a dumpster six blocks from the warehouse where Susan had been held.

“That was such a stroke of good fortune. We probably would not have paid much attention to the trash if it hadn't been for the rolls of duct tape. We thought it was strange that someone would throw away rolls with so much tape left on them. It was when we ran the fingerprints on the tape that we really got lucky. We had a good set of prints for two local guys that work for a company called On Guard. The company is owned and operated by a Dick Schaeffer. The men do licensed bodyguard work for him, so we had their prints on file. It just happened that one of our detectives remembered that On Guard did work for the local NRBA Laboratory during an investigation involving a break-in a few years back. It was too much of a coincidence. We picked them up about an hour ago. They both had several thousand dollars cash on them. We have the two of them in separate cells. The one, George Dwyer, is some kind of a martial arts expert. The other, Karl Lindstrom, is sort of oafish. He had a satchel with some acid vials and other weird stuff. They make up an odd couple. We drew a blank at Dick Schaeffer's house. We don't know where he's hiding, but I'll bet that when we find him, we'll find John Portman, too. I thought you might like to sit in on the questioning of these two thugs. Once we make a direct tie-in to Agent Harrigan, I'll release them to the FBI. Fortunately, they haven't lawyered up yet. That doesn't really surprise me. I guess Schaeffer's business isn't big enough to have an attorney on retainer, and these boys couldn't swing that on their own. Now the job is to get them to talk.”

“I'd love to be there, but just as an observer. I have no doubt that they're the ones we're looking for. Those were the names Susan gave us as her attackers. Let's see how it goes. Don't tell them that I'm with the Bureau. Once they realize I'm interested in them for abduction and assault of a government agent, they may clam up completely. We need them to tell us where Portman is hiding out.”

They moved to an interrogation room and took seats at the table. Moments later, an officer brought George into the room. George was about six-two, two twenty and in his late forties. His silky, jet black hair was drawn tight into a pony tail that went that went half way down his back. He was powerfully built from years of martial arts training. His eyes were dark and cold. His attitude was sullen.

Chief Jacobsen gestured toward the chair on the other side of the table. “Have a seat, George. I'm Chief Jacobsen and this here is detective Wellman.”

George looked at him coldly, glanced at Wellman, hesitated a second or two and then he sat down. “Why the hell did you pick me up? I didn't do anything wrong.”

“I'll ask the questions, George,” the Chief responded. According to your file you work for On Guard. Is that correct?”

“Yeah, so what. A lotta people work for them. Since when is working a crime?”

“It isn't, ordinarily. It depends on what kind of work you may have done for them lately.”

“There ain't been any work lately. Things are kinda slow. I haven't had any work for almost a month.”

“That cash you had in your pocket says otherwise, George.”

“That's my savings. I don't trust banks.”

“So, you haven't done any work at a warehouse recently? For instance, out on Patterson?”

John watched George carefully for a “tell”; the signal someone involuntarily gives when you take them by surprise. It may be a good poker hand, or, as in this case, the realization that someone knows something that you didn't expect them to know. George didn't show any signs of recognition at all. He just sat very stoically. Apparently martial arts training had some positive side benefits.

“I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't been out that way at least for four or five months.”

“Well, that is really strange, George, because we found your prints on some food wrappers and a water bottle that were thrown in a dumpster out in the warehouse district. The dumpster was emptied yesterday. So the items in question had to have been thrown in there in the last twenty-four hours.”

“We must have been driving by, or maybe a homeless person picked up the trash somewhere else and tossed it away again. I remember that I didn't finish my burger. It was not cooked enough. Anyway, now you're telling me that it is against the law to throw your trash away. I thought that that was a good thing. You guys gotta make up your minds.”

“It is against the law when it's mixed with evidence from a crime scene. You see, there was a strip of duct tape in with the trash with hair on it from a woman who was found shot yesterday. Guess whose fingerprints we found on it. I'd say that that ties you directly to a crime scene.”

George's eyes were starting to show signs of recognition. “I don't know nothin' about no crime scene. Is that all you've got? You guys are just grasping at straws.”

Walt responded, “No, George, that's not all. We also have your fingerprints on a roll of duct tape that was used in the shooting. The duct tape with the hair follicles matches the roll of tape that also has your fingerprints on it.” Chief Jacobsen was gambling that George did not know that Susan had been found alive. “Do you see what I am getting at?”

“I ain't got nothin' to do with no murder. You can't pin it on me.”

“Who said anything about a murder. I just said ‘a shooting.' Before, you said ‘we must have been driving by'. Who else is in this with you, George? Who was the trigger man if it wasn't you? It will go a lot easier if you tell me everything now.”

“Nobody is in nothin' with me. I don't know what you're talking about. You bastards are just trying to frame me.” He looked at Wellman as if expecting some support. John just looked dispassionately past him.

Jacobsen continued, “Does the name Karl Lindstrom ring a bell?” He's in this with you, isn't he? We picked him up earlier. I advise you to start talking fast, George, because if Karl gives you up first, he'll be the one getting the deal and you'll be taking the heat. It's up to you.”

It was suddenly sinking in that they knew what had happened. George had no intention of taking a murder rap. While he and Karl were buddies, he had no reservations about giving him up, especially if he could cut a deal.

“What kind of a deal can I get?” he asked.

“You know I can't be specific, George. Everything depends on what you have to tell us, but I can promise you that it will go a lot easier on you if you tell us everything now, especially if you were only hired muscle.”

John couldn't believe his eyes. The big man appeared ready to fold in less than ten minutes of interrogation.

Walt clammed up. Silence was all that was needed at this point. George's fear would do the rest.

“Okay, I will tell you what I know.”

Walt motioned for the tape recorder to be turned on. For the next ten minutes, George related the whole story. He named John Portman, Dick Schaeffer and Karl Lindstrom, and spelled out the role that each had played. He was so scared of a murder rap that he would have given up his own mother.

“I roughed the dame up a bit, but I swear that Portman was the one who killed her. I didn't see him do it, but he was the only person in the room with a gun. I think that he may have killed somebody else too. He showed the woman a picture of a guy he claims he killed. His name was Roland Phoebes. He threatened to do the same to her if she didn't tell him what he wanted to know.”

“Do you know where we can find Schaeffer and Portman?”

“They're holed up at a place Dick owns over on Snow Road.” He gave them the address and a detailed layout of the building. “Portman is planning on leaving town tonight. He may go sooner, now. They're expecting Karl and me over there later today. When we don't show up, he may sense something's wrong. Dick is fixing him up with some wheels. I heard Portman saying something about not taking a risk at the airport. I think maybe he's planning to wheel it back to Denver.” He slumped back in his chair. “That's all I know, I swear. Now what's the deal?”

“Well now, George, that wasn't so bad was it. I'll bet it feels good to get that stuff off your chest, doesn't it? There is a new development, though. Your confession has necessitated a change in jurisdiction. This crime is now officially a Federal case and I'm afraid that I'm going to have to turn you over to this gentleman. George, let me introduce you to Special Agent John Wellman. He's with the FBI here in Cleveland. You are now in his custody.”

He looked at the Chief and then at Wellman. Fear showed in his eyes. “Our deal is still good, ain't it?”

“I can't speak for John, but he was here the whole time, so he is aware of your cooperation. Oh, and by the way, the ‘dame,' as you called her, was a Special Agent for the FBI. That's the bad news. The good news is that she survived the gunshot. You should be very thankful for that.”

John went through the formal arrest protocol with George, then turned him over to two officers who took George from the room and back to the holding cell. He was grumbling to himself as he left. John turned to Walt, “I keep getting more indebted to you. That was truly outstanding interrogation work.”

Walt smiled. “Just doing my job. Can you believe the way he folded? I never expected it to be so easy. No two are ever the same. Do you want to sit in with our questioning of Karl? With George's confession, there shouldn't be too many surprises.”

“I don't think so. We'll question him later. But you will probably need him to corroborate George's confession.”

“I'll keep George and Karl on ice until you send someone to pick them up. Will you need any help rounding up Portman and Schaeffer? We're ready to help if we can.”

“I don't think so. You've done enough, already. I have a team of nineteen agents just chomping at the bit waiting for this news. This one's personal. They want to bring this to a close. I better get going. We're running out of time. Thanks again, Walt.”

Wellman got on the phone and set in motion a raiding team so that by the time he got back to headquarters everyone would be ready to go.