Rise of The Iron Eagle (The Iron Eagle Series Book 1) (12 page)

He hung up and returned to the meeting. They were discussing the autopsy reports when his cell rang again, and it was Jim. “What’s up?” “John can’t make it tonight; he has a previous engagement. He said he can meet us tomorrow afternoon at Santiago’s.” Steve smiled and said that would work out great. “You’re getting laid tonight, aren’t you?” Steve walked to the door and stepped out, “You bet your ass I am, and I get to spend the whole night with the woman I love.” “That’s great, Steve, but how does Molly feel about that?” Jim roared, and Steve tried to keep his enthusiasm in check. “What time tomorrow, asshole?” Jim was trying to stop laughing and said three o’clock. “Sounds great. See you at three.” Jim was still talking when Steve hung up the cell and speed dialed Molly.

“Hello.” Molly’s voice was quiet on the other end of the line. “Hi honey. We’re all set. I have the whole night free. I’ll see you at Bella Donna at seven.” There was a little giggle from Molly. “What are you doing?” he asked. “I’m out with Gail, and we’re trying on clothes.” Gail had flown in from New Jersey to stay with them a little over a week earlier and was in her last week of ‘sun and fun LA style,’ as she called it. The girls had been nearly lifelong friends since meeting at the University of Chicago. Gail was an undergrad at the university, and Molly was working in administration when the two met and hit it off. They were kindred spirits and became close friends and confidants before Molly moved to LA where she met and married Steve. Gail moved to New York after being accepted to Columbia University where she would meet her husband-to-be. While there was a fifteen year age difference between Gail and Molly, it had no impact on their friendship. The bond between the two women never changed; it only grew stronger with distance. After Gail graduated, they kept in touch and visited each other the same time every year. Molly would go out to see Gail and her husband, but Steve rarely joined her because of work. Gail’s husband, Bob, was a New York City Police Officer, so the two men had a lot in common and both saw very little of their wives. Steve knew Bob mostly from telephone conversations.

Molly’s laughter continued until she surprised Steve by saying, “Gail wants to know if I like her boob job.” He stepped outside the lab and closed the door. “Well…do you?” She laughed again. They were in a changing room, and Gail had her top and bra off. “They look great, Gail, now put your bra back on.” “I’d like to give her a man’s opinion,” Steve said, “send me a picture.” “Really? “You tell her that.” He heard some fumbling, and Gail’s voice came on the line. “Hi Steve!” Gail was always bubbly and upbeat. “Molly said you wanted to ask me something.” He started stammering, and then he heard Molly in the background. “He’s wants you to send him a picture of your boobs.” They were both laughing when he heard Molly saying, “You didn’t just do that?” He was still trying to understand what was going on when his phone vibrated in his hand. He took it away from his ear, and there was a text from Molly with an attachment. As he stared at the message logo, Molly piped up, “Steve, I swear if you look at that photo you are going to be in big trouble, mister.” “Hey…she sent it over to me. I think I have a duty to look at it.”

There was silence as he clicked the message and the attachment opened. There in his text in box were two of the most luscious breasts he had seen in years. Not that Molly’s weren’t great, but Molly was forty five and Gail was only thirty. Despite Molly’s yelling, he kept looking at the photo. “Sorry, honey, I just got a text” he laughed. “You really sent it to him…oh my God. I’m going to spank your ass, young lady.” He interjected, “Can I watch?” He heard Gail in the background saying loudly that he could see them in person at dinner tonight. Molly came back on the line, “So we have the whole night? You’re not going to break away on an emergency call?” He told her no. “All right, then we’ll meet you at Bella Donna. You can see her cleavage, mister, but that’s all.” He laughed, “Yes, honey.” “Okay, I love you. See you at seven.”

Steve quickly gathered his composure as Bill Jensen walked out of the lab to see if everything was okay. Steve nodded and said he would be right in; he needed to use the bathroom.

The Eagle drug Francis by his right leg across the steel floor, barbed wire embedded in his flesh, bumping the barbs deeper as he went. He screamed in pain. The Eagle just threw him against the container wall, driving the barbed wire still deeper. “You’re hurting me,” he cried as The Eagle laughed. “I’m hurting you? Hmm…well I guess you’re starting to get a taste of what you’ve been doing to your victims.” Francis’ face stayed straight. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. This is my workshop. Who did I hurt? I don’t understand.” The Eagle grabbed the open end of the wire and pulled with a great deal of force; Francis spun like a top being pulled by its string while blood and flesh fell to the floor. Some still clung to the wire in The Eagle’s hand. “So what do you call this?” The Eagle held up the wire so Francis could see it. “A nonlethal security system?” Francis lay on the floor writhing in agony. “Please, please. I’m begging you. No more. I haven’t done anything to you.” “Francis, your injuries are of your own doing,” The Eagle said smiling, “so far.”

He moved to the tool table off in the corner of the container and picked up one of Francis’drills. There was a wood cutting blade in it covered in flesh, bone, and blood. It was cordless, and he walked toward Francis with it in his hand. As Francis began to scream, The Eagle told him to shut up and threw him onto the hay in the corner of the container using only one hand. For Francis, the feel of the straw burned his nude flesh. “Now, Francis, do you remember what I said to you when you asked who I was this morning?” He was groaning in pain, confused, and trying to push himself up against the hot steel of the container. “Francis, I need you to focus…do you remember who I am?” He nodded. “What? I can’t hear you.” Francis moved slowly against the container, the heat feeling good against his fresh wounds. “Say it, Francis. Who am I?” He shook his head. “Francis, don’t make this harder than it needs to be; if you answer my questions, it’s going to go so much better for you.” He started to cry and crumpled into the hay, sobbing…“Justice…you said you were justice.” The Eagle smiled, “That’s right, Francis; you can call me Mr. Justice. Those who know my work call me The Iron Eagle.” Francis started screaming uncontrollably as The Eagle flipped on the lights inside the container and pulled the steel doors closed, slamming the bolt lock shut behind him.

Chapter Twelve

‘He pulled the hooded figure close
to his face and whispered, “You’re
about to have a really bad day.”’

S
teve finished up with his staff and raced to meet Molly and Gail at Bella Donna in Sherman Oaks. He pulled into valet parking, and, Phillip, the lone valet, ran over to his driver’s side door. “Good evening, Agent Hoffman.” “Phil, I’ve been coming here for 20 years; you’ve been parking my cars for the same amount of time. Are you ever going to call me by my first name?” There was laughter, and Phil said, “Not likely. Molly and Gail are already seated.” “Thank you.” “I’ll back your car into its usual spot in case you need to leave in a hurry.” He thanked Phillip and went into the restaurant. Angelo Distigliano was standing at the front desk when he came in. “Agent Hoffman, so nice to see you.” “Hi Angelo. Where are the girls?” He heard the sound of female laughter and said, “Never mind. Can’t miss the cackle of those two.” There was a little laughter between the two men, and Angelo followed him over to the table. Molly jumped up and gave him a big hug and kiss, and Gail did the same. “How long have you two been here, and how many glasses of wine have you had?” They looked at each other like two children trying to keep a secret. Angelo was standing behind him. “Oh…Angelo,” Steve looked back. “Yes sir. The ladies are on their second bottle.” “Have they eaten anything?” “I believe some bread, sir.” “Let’s get the usual for the three of us, please my friend, so we can soak up some of the wine.” Angelo smiled and said, “Vino good for the soul, Agent Hoffman. The girls, they be fine.” “It might be good for the soul, but it’s bad for the head in the morning.” Angelo departed for the kitchen as Steve sat down.

“Well, I see you two have had a fun day.” They both laughed and Gail leaned over toward Steve and asked with a slight slur, “So, do you like my new tits?” Molly laughed, slurring as well, “You better not have looked at those pictures, mister! They’re vulgar.” “Hey,” Gail responded, “these are my tits we’re talking about.” Molly patted her shoulder in a drunken manner and told her she was sorry. “But this is my husband we’re talking about. I don’t want him looking at my best friend’s breasts.” “Oh please, Moll… you’re one of my best friends. You and Stevo…he can look at my tits without losing his mind.” She looked at him and winked, “Right Stevo?” She flung her glass spilling wine on him and the table. “Oops. Didn’t mean to do that.” He wiped off his suit coat with a napkin. “Okay,” he said, “let’s cut back on the wine until we get some food in you two.” He pulled the ice bucket with the wine away from the table, and the women began to pout. “We only see each other twice a year, sweetheart; we’re just out for a little fun.” “I understand Molly, but let’s try to keep the fun from ending up on the bathroom floor.” The girls laughed and took yet another sip.

“So what have you two been up to?” They both got shy smiles and whispered to each other. He knew what that meant. “Okay…let’s table that question. Did you find anything nice while shopping?” Molly looked at him disapprovingly, “Steve, you don’t care what we bought or where we were, so cut the crap. We had a nice day and a nice time together.” Angelo came back with salad and asked Steve if he wanted a drink. He ordered a vodka tonic and a bottle of Pellegrino for the table. Steve slid the ice bucket back over after they had eaten their main course, and the girls were a little more sober. Molly had just finished her meal when she looked at Steve and asked, “How was your day, sweetheart?” Gail cringed…she knew what Steve did for a living, and she didn’t want to hear any gory details. Steve knew from Bob that Gail didn’t like to hear about police work. He said it was a fine day and left it at that. When dinner was done, Steve had Phillip park Molly’s car in the back of the restaurant. “Every year, eh, Agent Hoffman?” “Molly and Gail will pick it up tomorrow. Good night, Phillip.” “Good night, sir.” Steve got into his car with the two girls and drove home.

Molly and Gail were ahead of Steve as they walked up to the house. They lived in a very nice gated community in Sherman Oaks, south of Ventura Boulevard. The house had wonderful views overlooking the San Fernando Valley. As soon as the two women entered the house, clothes started coming off. He picked them up as the two ascended the staircase toward the bedrooms. By the time he got to the master bedroom the two nude women were laying on the bed staring up at the ceiling. “Wow,” Gail said, “the room is spinning.” Steve went over and lifted her up, “Okay…a spinning room is the first step toward a vomit party.” Molly sat up on her own and said, “It’s not spinning, silly…it’s kind of…wavy… like we’re on a ship.” He started to pull down the covers when Molly asked, “You have the whole night home, right?” He nodded. “Well, let’s fool around.” He stared at the two of them. Gail piped up, “Wow…I’ve never seen Steve at a loss for words. Consider it a birthday present.” Molly nodded in agreement, and the two women began to undress him.

He had fantasized about Gail the entire time that he knew her. She was a beautiful woman with natural blond hair and deep, almost sea green eyes. She stood all of five feet and was curvy in all the right places. Molly wasn’t much bigger and had a figure defying her age. Molly let her long black hair down, and her brown eyes scanned his body. Before he knew it, the three were romping in the darkness until they all passed out from exhaustion.

Steve’s phone rang at six fifteen a.m., and he reached over to grab it off the belt clip from his pants on the floor. Molly and Gail were nude in an embrace next to him, and he was sitting on the edge of the bed in shock at what had happened. He thought it was a dream, but when he looked over and placed his hand on Gail’s nude ass, she smiled and cuddled up against Molly. He didn’t need to pinch himself; the ringing phone was proof that he was awake. He gathered his faculties and answered the phone. The voice on the other end of the line was not a familiar one. “May I speak to Special Agent Hoffman?” “This is Hoffman. Who’s this?” “My name is Detective Brian Salter with the Long Beach Police Department.” He pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at it with confusion. “Okay, detective, why the hell is Long Beach PD calling me?” There was a pause. “We found your business card in the purse of a Jane Doe that we have here near the Pike.” “A Jane Doe…you have an empty purse with just my card in it?” “Yes sir. We need you to come down and see if you can ID the body.” “Is this a homicide investigation?” “Not at this time, sir. There’s no physical sign of trauma to the body. She was discovered by a jogger on a park bench down here near the Pike.” Steve got his bearings and started to gather his clothes. “Okay, I’m en route. Is the coroner on scene?” “En route, sir.” “Okay, I’m on my way. No one moves the body until I’m there!” He kissed Molly on the cheek and told her he had to leave. She smiled and kissed him back and said, “Happy birthday, Mr. Hoffman!” She never opened her eyes. She just tightened her grip on Gail as he smiled and walked into the bathroom to dress.

Jim’s phone rang at seven forty-five. He was half on and half off the hide-a-bed sofa in his single apartment in Whittier; he was also hung over from the night before and in no mood to talk. “WHAT?” he yelled into the phone. “Jim, it’s Steve. I need you in Long Beach ASAP.” He looked around the apartment. “Hang the fuck on.” There were empty beer and vodka bottles, and a box of half-eaten pizza on another box he was using as a coffee table. He pushed a couple of pizza boxes out of the way, filled with crust and half-eaten pizza, as well as some pieces that were growing penicillin. He stood up and walked toward the kitchen area where there was an overflowing ashtray and a pack of smokes and a lighter. He lit a cigarette and put the phone back to his ear. “What the FUCK are you doing in Long Beach at this fuckin’ hour? I thought you were off last night?” The line was quiet for a moment and Steve spoke, “Jim, I need you down here now. I got a call this morning from a LBPD detective. They found a Jane Doe with my card in her empty purse; they called me to ID the body.” Jim scratched his crotch through his boxer shorts as he hunted around for his pants, the cigarette hanging out of his mouth. “Okay…that’s a strange one. So are you on scene?” “Yes!” “You want to add any fuckin’ more detail to that statement?” He could hear the beeping sound of a vehicle backing up. “No…just get down here now.” “Okay…okay…where the fuck are you?” “I’m at the Pike on South Pine Avenue. Just take Ocean to Pine and head toward the water. I’ll be waiting for you at the entrance.” The phone went dead while Jim was putting on his shirt. He grabbed a coffee at the Starbucks across the street from his apartment and headed for Long Beach.

When he pulled up to the main entrance less than a half hour later, he saw multiple police units, the coroner’s van, and Steve standing on the curb. He parked in front of one of the LBPD black and whites and got out. “What the hell’s going on, Steve?” He knew right away by the look on Steve’s face that something was very wrong. Jim became more contrite and walked toward him with a bit more hesitation. Steve looked sick. “What’s going on? Why are you down here on a Jane Doe? Is it a homicide?” He shook his head and pointed in the direction of the yellow tarp over a park bench in front of the park entrance. Jim walked over and showed his ID and lifted the tarp. His face sank, and he put the tarp back down and walked back to Steve. “Who found her?” “A young female jogger, about five forty-five this morning. She called it in to 911.” “Have you interviewed anyone here yet? Have you talked to the jogger?” Steve looked dazed as if he had just woken up, “Um… yea…she said that she saw a woman sitting on the park bench when she passed at around five fifteen, and when she came back by at quarter to six she was still sitting there. She said she decided to approach her and realized the woman wasn’t breathing.” “Did she see anything out of the ordinary other than the body?” Steve shook his head. “I only took a quick look; I’m sure you have seen more. Any sign of trauma? Did she live down here?” He shook his head again. “Shit, Steve, she’s just a kid. How long has she been with your team?” “Not quite a year.” Jim moved Steve toward a bench about thirty feet from the body. “Do you know much about her personal life?” “She didn’t have a personal life. That girl ate and breathed CSI work, and she loved working for the Bureau.” “Are you going to call the family?” Steve nodded and told him about his discussion with her about John, how she thought she recognized him, and how he gave her the shivers when she looked at him.

The coroner’s workers opened the back of the van, and, with the help of the police, lifted Janet Simmons’ body onto the gurney. They placed her in a black body bag and covered her corpse with the distinctive red velvet blanket just as a news crew showed up on scene. Steve turned to look as they pushed the gurney into the back of the van. “I asked that they do an autopsy immediately,” said Steve. “I understand. Let’s get to the cause of death.” The two men stood up as the van pulled away. A group of people had gathered on a small bridge near the entrance. Jim and Steve started walking in the general direction of the group when a tall slender figure started to move away from the front of the group. Steve noticed it right away and pointed in the direction of the person. Jim noticed, too, and they walked faster toward the group. The figure began to push back against the crowd and then broke out in a full sprint. Steve yelled out and called for backup to stop the runner. The two men ran up the ramp toward where the person had been standing but only saw the figure disappear into a crowd further down the beach. “They have security cameras everywhere here, right?” Jim nodded. “Let’s go pay a visit to the security office. We need all the film for the past twenty four hours.”