Torrent: The first book of Byte short stories Page 4

  “Yes.”

  “Older than him but some hair.”

  I smiled Sam kept his head hair free and shiny. He was Mr. T without the Mohawk or a darker version of Kojak. Scenes from the A Team vied for position in my mind with Kojak, the battle of who was cooler began. I much preferred the Kojak opening scenes to the A team. Kojak won. Gimme a lollipop.

  I pushed the intrusive lollipop thoughts away and asked Alec another question. “What shape was he?”

  There was a struggle within Alec, visible in his eyes and his expression. “I’m not supposed to say things that can hurt someone’s feelings.”

  “It’s okay Alec. You’re allowed to tell, it will help me.” He was so cute. Just a little boy still learning about social filters and how not everything we think needs to be vocalized, it’s not an easy thing to learn. I still find both feet in my mouth more often than not.

  He whispered, “He was fat, and smelly.”

  I suppressed a smile. Fat and smelly.

  “Tall like daddy and my friends out there?”

  He shook his head. I could see his mind working. “When mummy stood up, she was taller than him.”

  “You’re very helpful, Alec. Very helpful.”

  “I know.” He smiled. “The little boy called him something, a name, but I don’t know what it was. The little girl she called him Nonno.”

  “Nonno?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you remember what the boy said?” Interesting that the girl called him Nonno, Italian for grandfather.

  He thought some more and shook his head. “No. I don’t think the boy liked the man. When the man tried to hold his hand he pulled it away and went and sat further away.”

  “What about the girl, did she like him?”

  He nodded. “I think so.” Alec took a ragged breath. “He was a mean man. I accidentally broke the girl’s sandcastle. I didn’t mean too, I fell over. He was mean.” Alec began to cry. “It’s all my fault. Mommy didn’t pick me up and it’s all my fault.”

  I touched his shoulder. “No, it’s not. Come and see your daddy. I’m going to go and find your mommy. You have been very helpful.” I had my fingers crossed behind my back. I didn’t want to promise his mother’s safe return but I knew that’s what he heard.

  I took his hand and led him back to Peter. Peter scooped him up into his arms. I told everyone about the park.

  Lee, Sam, and I stepped away briefly. “We’re looking for a fat smelly man with very little hair, probably Italian origin – one child with him called him Nonno.”

  Sam chuckled lightly. “Anything else?”

  “Yeah – how tall is Judge Hartwell?”

  Sam flipped some pages in his notebook. “Five foot six.”

  “In that case we’re looking for a short, fat, smelly, balding man.” I heard my voice crackle but ignored it. I could laugh later once the judge was safe.

  I walked back to Peter and Alec. “Alec was amazingly helpful.”

  Sam and Lee joined me. It’s as if they knew I was in danger of bursting out laughing.

  “I’m waiting for a call back have alerted Chrissy – and given the description,” Sam said with deadpan delivery. I couldn’t look at his face. I knew I’d see the glimmers of humor behind his eyes that no one else saw.

  My phone rang. It was Chrissy. She had a name and an address for us. Cyril Maletta was the man we wanted to speak to. Judge Hartwell revoked all his access to his five-year-old grandson the morning before. The order was effective from December 24th.

  Chrissy also sent me a picture our technicians had retrieved from the CCTV. I showed the picture to Peter and Alec. “Do you know him?”

  Peter shook his head. Alec nodded his voice crumbled as he whispered, “That’s the mean fat smelly man.”

  I looked at Peter. “I’d ask you to come, but Alec needs you. We’ll be back.”

  Tears ran down Alec’s face. I shoved my hand in my jacket pocket and pulled out my orange iPod. I adjusted the volume for little ears and handed the ear buds to him. “Do you like Christmas songs Alec?”

  He smiled. “Yes.”

  I hit play on the movie screen and passed him the iPod. Moments later, his head was bobbing to Bon Jovi singing Run Rudolph Run.

  “I’ll grab it when we get back. There’s nothing unsuitable on there – just Bon Jovi, Grange, Elvis, and some Michael Bublѐ.”

  “All things his mother listens to. Bring her home, Ellie.”

  We both watched the boy for a second. Peter leaned closer and whispered, “You think he was going to take Alec?”

  “I do.”

  Sam, Lee, and I lit out like scolded cats. Lee was on the phone as I snatched the keys from his hand and jumped into the driver’s seat. In my rearview mirror, I saw Sam slide into his car. We pulled out of the driveway with full lights and sirens. Lee snapped his phone shut and fastened his seatbelt. Good call.

  “SWAT is on their way. I expect them to get there at least fifteen minutes before us.”

  “In this weather on Christmas Eve – we’ll be lucky if we get there within half an hour.” Snow flurries made visibility tricky.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Lee’s hand reach for the radio on the dash. I knew what he was doing before he spoke. My focus was the road and the traffic – I listened to him speaking.

  “This is Special Agent Lee Davenport. Requesting backup at Lindenbrook Street, Fairfax.”

  The radio crackled then a voice erupted. “Fairfax police. We have two cars in the area, what do you need?”

  “A road block, no one in or out of Lindenbrook except SWAT, FBI and police.”

  “Message understood.”

  Another crackle preceded a question, “All noise?”

  “Negative. Stealth approach.”

  “Message understood.”

  As I drove, the radio buzzed and crackled. Police cruisers were responding from all over Fairfax County. We let comms field the rest of the calls. Ask and you shall receive. A song drifted then settled in my mind. Please come home for Christmas. I felt a weight on my shoulders that came from knowing I had to return a mom to her little boy, alive.

  We approached Lindenbrook Street and a police cordon. The SWAT truck was already inside and standing by. They had control of the scene; more exactly Special Agent Danny Godwin was scene commander.

  I zipped my jacket up against the freezing wind and the blowing snow.

  Lee, Sam, and I clambered into the mobile SWAT command center.

  It was cozy bordering on close.

  “Hey Danny, seen any movement?” I asked.

  “Hey Ellie - not yet. My team is trying to get cameras into the house now. How sure are you that your man is in there?”

  “I’m not, but I’m hoping he’s home and has our missing judge with him.”

  I saw his shoulders slump. “Ah crap doodle, I hoped it wasn’t really a hostage situation on Christmas Eve.”

  “I think this Cyril Maletta man wanted to grab the judge’s kid but picked the wrong day.” I watched the computer screens. A picture popped up on one. It looked like a living room. There was a man pacing back and forth and someone sitting in a chair. We could only see the top of a head. “That could be her. Don’t suppose we can get a camera in on the other side of the room so we can see?”

  Agent Godwin smiled. “We may be able to.” He spoke quietly into the headset he was wearing. Giving directions to get a camera where we could see the person in the chair. “They’ll do their best; it’s a matter of getting it in silently. Not easy if they have to drill a special hole. That camera there is utilizing a hole made by the phone company for a telephone line, under the house.”

  Five minutes later another picture popped up on the screen. A clear picture of Meaghan Hartwell. Her hands taped to the chair arms. Her feet taped together at the ankles. Beyond her, a Christmas tree all lit up.

  “Is he smoking?” I asked peering closer at the screen.

  “Yes,” Lee replied. “He’s also g
ot a gun in his back pocket.”

  Danny pressed a few buttons on the keyboard in front of him. He gave us sound. Cyril was ranting at Meaghan. Going on and on about how he was the best role model for his grandson and how he should be allowed to see him whenever he wanted to. He waved in the direction of what we assumed was the Christmas tree and spoke of all the gifts he’d brought him. Meaghan remained silent, even when he yelled in her face. The man’s right hand strayed to his back pocket. Then relaxed.

  “Let’s call him and get a dialogue going,” Lee suggested as we watched his hand reach for the gun again. “What’s his freaking name again?”

  “Cyril Maletta. Screw that - take him out. Anyone got a shot?” I said looking at Danny. “He’s getting too worked up. I’m not risking the judge’s life.”

  He spoke into his headset again. Seconds later word came back that two snipers had clear shots. ‘We have a non-fatal resolution.’

  Danny looked at me and gave the order, “Take him.”

  I watched the screen as the man toppled to the ground. Meaghan slowly looked up at the window but never made a sound.

  “Let’s go,” I said pushing the command center door open. Wind pushed back. Ice stung my face.

  “He’s down, wounded but not dead,” Danny called after us followed by, “He’s in custody and being removed.”

  When we reached the living room, an agent was cutting the tape from Meaghan’s wrists and ankles.

  We waited.

  The room stunk of cigarette smoke, both fresh and stale. The furnishings were ingrained with years of tobacco smoke. It was unpleasant especially as I’d only given up myself less than a month ago. The stench strengthened my resolve to never smoke again. A new song played. I wish every day could be like Christmas. Sometimes it’s a shame no one else can hear my music.

  Freed at last the woman stood and smiled as us. “I know you, don’t I?” she asked me.

  “You do. We were all at Director O’Hare’s barbeque last summer. Are you all right?”

  She nodded. “Alec?”

  “Safe with Peter.”

  She smiled. “He wanted Alec. He wanted to teach me what it was like to have someone take a child away.”

  “I see he didn’t take your ruling well,” I replied. “Come this way…” I led her from the house. Outside in the fresh snowy air we could breathe without choking.

  “He didn’t take it at all well. Pedophiles rarely do.” A paramedic wrapped a thick grey blanket around her shoulders. “Before you arrived he’d spent an hour telling me how much he loved his grandson and how the boy enjoyed his demonstrations of affection.” She wore a grim expression. “I just wish someone had listened to the child earlier. That depraved man’s lawyer had everyone believing he was a saint. It took a kindergarten teacher to uncover the truth and get the boy to talk.”

  I shuddered.

  No one told me the guy was a pedophile, but then we didn’t have a lot of time.

  Priority was to bring the judge home safely.

  I looked at Lee; he shook his head in disgust.

  Guess he hadn’t heard either. I looked over at the gurney where the man lay. Alec was right. He was short, fat, balding, and smelly. There’s a winning combination in a man.

  “Sam – can you follow the ambulance and get a statement from Maletta, then arrest him for kidnapping a superior court judge and post a guard. Lee and I will take Judge Hartwell back to her family,” I said.

  Sam grinned. “My pleasure.” He checked his watch. “Your dad still making eggnog?”

  “Hell yes. Get moving – can’t guarantee it will last long once Lee and I get home.”

  I said goodbye and thank you to Danny and then to the police officers who answered our call for help. I extended an invitation to each member of SWAT and each police officer to come home for eggnog.

  It was the least I could do.

  ***

  I had a feeling Christmas wouldn’t be so bad after all. My feelings aren’t always right. There was no song warning me of impending doom when Eddie rolled in the back door of the Connelly’s house drunk at eight-thirty in the morning. His short chubby wife, wearing four-inch-stilettos, what appeared to be stage makeup and the smallest dress I’d ever seen, followed him. I didn’t know fabric could stretch that far without ripping. A wardrobe malfunction was imminent and vowed to be the hell out of the way when it happened. Their two fat almost teenage kids barreled in behind them and headed right for the Christmas tree.

  Bob Connelly grabbed them before they could rip into the presents and sent them off to sit on one of the large couches with a candy cane each.

  Like they needed more sugar.

  It was going to be a day to forget. Eddie and Angie sat on opposite chairs. Eddie slurped a beer. Angie batted her long fake eyelashes at Mac. My father and brother talked to Bob. Beatrice banged about in the kitchen refusing all offers of help. The kids fought over presents they hadn’t seen yet.

  Mac pulled me closer so I was leaning against him. He whispered in my ear, “What’s under your sweater?”

  I giggled, “Shouldn’t you know?”

  “Smart ass. You’re carrying.” He tapped my side with his fingers.

  “Maybe …”

  “Maybe’s ass. You wore a gun to Christmas dinner …”

  “Eddie is here, hello. You think I want to be unarmed with that drunken octopus in the room?”

  I settled back and watched the chaos unfold in front of me. Beatrice came in yelling about the ham not being right. Eddie fell off his chair. The kids punched each other. Bob separated them. The fat boy snatched a present, opened it, and threw the contents at his father. Angie spent the whole morning trying to attract Mac’s attention. Every now and then, my hand strayed to my hip and rested on the butt of my Glock.

  Christmas wasn’t so bad after all.

  Next year it’ll be at our house with a strictly limited guest list. Us.

  4 I JUST WANT TO BE YOUR MAN

  “Ellie!”

  I ignored the insistently whiny voice behind me and kept walking.

  “Ellie!” he whined louder. Several people turned around. I did not.

  “Wait up!” he hollered, as I ducked into the nearest big store hoping to disappear into the New Year’s Eve crowds. There I stood in a desolate store. Four hungry sales assistants bore down upon me from various points. I glanced over my shoulder. He’d be running in any minute. I scanned the displays of television sets, computer gear, and stereos and realized I was doomed. Or not.

  The first assistant stopped abruptly in front of me, pertly announcing herself, “Hello, I’m Casey. I’m here to help you today. Is there anything in particular I can show you?”

  I wanted to tell her to take a breath and button off the enthusiasm. Instead, I smiled, flashed my badge, and asked, “Is there another way out?”

  Casey’s bright smile faded slightly. “Follow me,” she said. The other three assistants all vanished, and I imagined them tidying the pristine displays and frantically trying to look busy. Casey led me across the store to a door marked ‘staff only’.

  “Thanks I appreciate it.”

  I looked into the store as I closed the door and observed Eddie.

  He’d just huffed and puffed his fat self into the store. This time my future brother-in-law’s excessive weight worked in my favor.

  Before long, I was back in my office, smiling to myself.

  “This came while you were out,” Sam said and threw a file onto my desk. It was a precision throw, and the file stopped right in front of my keyboard.

  I dropped my bag on the floor beside my desk, sat down, and opened the manila folder bearing the FBI seal.

  “Thanks Sam,” I muttered as I picked up the pages within the folder.

  I read the information contained in the file, twice. Took careful note of the photographs included and the request from local police for help.

  “Did Chrissy pass this on?” I asked looking at the photographs again. They d
idn’t get any better with subsequent viewings.

  “Yes, and Caine approved our involvement.”

  Serial crime. That was usually what we dealt with. Although Christmas Eve we worked a kidnapping, as a special request. Now here we were again, being asked for help. An appeal from a police department to investigate a spate of dead Santas. Christmas was over. Three Santas were found shoved up chimneys, in three different houses over three days. No one wanted there to be a fourth Santa. For the life of me, I could not figure out how anyone shoved a grown man up a chimney like that.

  “Lee?” My eyes would not leave the pictures.

  “On a coffee run. Figured you’d need some when you read that file,” Sam replied.

  I finally dragged my eyes up from my reading to be met by his customary wide grin. I turned the pictures over, so I could no longer see the black boots and white fur trimmed red trousers hanging from within fireplaces.

  “This is why team A is the best of Delta,” I said picking up the phone from my desk and pressing four numbers. Chrissy answered on the second ring. “Hey Chrissy. Can you call the police chief who wants us to lend a hand? Tell him we’ll be there this afternoon.”

  “Sure Ellie, what will you need?”

  “Access to all the police files pertaining to this case and officers involved, forensics reports, somewhere to work and lots of coffee.”

  She laughed. “I’ll pass it on. Travel plans?”

  “We’ll drive.”

  “ETA?”

  I glanced at the clock on the wall. “Two hours. Depends on traffic volumes of course and road conditions. Is it still snowing?”

  “I think so.”

  Chrissy said goodbye. A shadow fell from the doorway, a shadow that smelled of one hundred percent Arabica beans in Styrofoam cups. “Great timing,” I said as Lee handed me a cup of steaming black coffee.

  “I ran into Eddie,” he said.

  “With your car?” I knew it was too much to hope for but still I hoped for a post-Christmas miracle.

  “Sadly no. He was in the coffee shop and whining about how you ignored him this morning and then ditched him in an electronics store.”

  I shrugged.