Witness Protection Program
Hello, I hope that everyone enjoyed reading the first chapter of The Perfect Witness. As I promised here is the next book in the series teaser. The title is Hidden Secrets. You can find the complete novel at the following links: books2read.com/u/mVLMpb and amzn.to/1u92UUj.
US Marshal, Jean DeBois plugged the coffee pot in and set it on the corner of his desk. He flipped on his headset and reconnected it to the unit for the drug and weapons bust.
“Is everyone in position? It’s almost show time,” he inquired.
Jack Post his second in command, came back first, “My unit’s in place. The Monticello just pulled in dock five minutes ago. They’ve her moored to the pier. The nonessential crewmembers are getting ready for shore leave. There’s a light fog rolling in so everyone’s going to have to be on tip top because they’ll try to use the fog to their advantage.”
“Did everyone hear what Jack reported about the fog?” Jean inquired. “Everyone has a bulletproof vest on, right?”
“Yeah, we were all issued one personally by our resident mother hen and made to put them on before she allowed us to leave,” Mark Prix chided Janet Post, their communications officer.
“I heard that wisecrack, Mark. If I’m right, and I’m rarely wrong about these things, you’re going to be very glad I’m such a mother hen, as you put it, and owe me a very large one.
“I’m outside the hospital, Jean. They’re planning to release Hogan tomorrow so he’s still in room 317. I didn’t want to tip him off before things broke loose. Tripper’s with Forensics outside his office complex waiting for the get go. Slaughter’s waiting outside his estate. I’ve given them the low down on what to be on the look out for in each dwelling. I’ll check in on their progress soon as Hogan’s in the system in maximum security with Brown so he can’t get word out to anyone.” Janet answered.
“Jean, Captain Cushioner just brought the cutter passed the Holland Tunnel. He’s going to position the cutter four miles off Cowanus Bay to make sure the Monticello can’t make a run north or south. He figures if they make a run for it they’ll head south through the Narrows to the Atlantic instead of trying to make a run through the East River and Hells Gate Channel. He has two Port Authority choppers standing by at the 34th Heliport for backup. We’ll be ready by the time things go down to stop anything that comes our way,” Robert Williamson relayed.
“Robert, are you going to be able to take out the communication tower from that distance?” Jean came back adjusting the earpiece to his ear for better reception.
“The gunnery sergeant assures me all he needs is the word ‘Go’ and the tower’s history,” Robert reassured Jean.
“Let’s hope he’s not just blowing smoke up our tail pipes about his marksmanship ability and he’s the real McCoy. Mark, where are you?” Jean inquired.
“I just passed Prospect Expressway, heading south toward 39th Street on Gowanus Expressway. We’re going to set up the safety check right before 39th so the truck’s stuck in traffic and not able to turn around. The Highway Patrol has Prospect Expressway covered and Fagon insisted on taking 278 North. I didn’t have to use any coercion at all, which bothers me. Do you think he’s got word they’ve changed itineraries without us knowing about it, Jean?”
“No, this is his normal itinerary in dealing with other law enforcement officers. He has a need to know policy. He lets you know just enough, what he thinks you need to get the job done and no more. It’s a reckless way to do things. He thinks he’s something hot and he’s not. The other subordinate agents of his unit have to cover his mistakes continually. He’s a loose cannon and uses anyone or anything to promote himself up the ladder, so watch your back Mark. He’ll feed you to the sharks, if he’s given a chance.”
“Heads up, everyone,” Jack snapped, “the crew’s coming down the gang plank for shore leave. Robert, get in closer. They haven’t shut the diesels down. They’re spooked. Have the captain run on stealth mode. Four miles is too far away and it looks like we’re in for one whopper of a fight.
“Uh oh, we have a problem, three trucks with the label of Carlo’s Premium Blend Coffee on their sides just pulled up, two of them black and one white. The first black truck’s license plate number’s 125 Jacob Charles Now, that’s 125 JCN. The second black truck’s number’s 479 Black Crew Egg. The white truck license number’s 656 Satan Charles Prime. The longshoremen are coming to unload the ship. Tell Janet it’s a go on arresting Hogan.”
“I’m on my way, Jack,” Janet answered.
Jean switched off Janet’s incoming signal to her headset so they would not distract her by what was going on at the docks. Her voice still came over loud and clear on her speaker as she burst into Hogan’s hospital room.
“Michelin Hogan, US Federal Marshal, you’re under arrest for the murder of Sam Wallace, drug running, weapons running, and treason against the United States for supplying weapons to our enemies.” Janet yelled.
Hogan yelled at his goon, “Get this lunatic out of here. I’m calling my attorney.”
A second later, the phone slammed up against the wall where Janet yanked it out of the wall, throwing it at his henchman and ordering him to the floor, her gun trailing him.
“As I was saying Hogan, you’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. If you give up that right, any and all things said can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney present at the time of questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you by the courts. Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you? Do you wish to give up any or all of these rights?”
“Go to hell, you black…” was all Hogan got out before Janet threw him out of bed onto the floor, eating tile beside the henchman.
“That was the wrong answer, Hogan. Officer, cuff the henchman sure you pat him down good, and get both guns. One is in the shoulder harness and the other is on his right ankle. I see a stiletto in a harness behind his head also. Arrest him for interference with the duties of a Federal Marshal and possession of illegal weapons.” Janet spouted orders to US Marshal Brown who accompanied her. “Hogan do you understand these rights as I have explained them to you? Do you wish to give up these rights?”
“Yes, I understand them no; I don’t want to give up any of my rights. I want my call to my attorney, now!” Hogan squirmed under Janet’s grasp.
“You may call your attorney as soon as you’re thoroughly processed through all the channels. Deputy Brown’ll accompany you while you’re processed. He’ll make sure you’ll receive deluxe accommodations and be your own personal escort after being properly searched for any hidden weapons.”
“It’ll be my pleasure, ma’am,” Deputy Brown roughly patted Hogan down and snapped on the cuffs on Hogan’s wrist behind his back, yanking him to his feet. He made Hogan almost run to keep up with him as they went to the elevator.
“Jean, I’m on my way to Hogan’s office to see how Tripper’s doing then out to Slaughter for the rest of the cleanup,” Janet reported.
“Roger that, Janet, keep me informed on your progress,” Jean relayed.
“Jean, they’ve started unloading the coffee bean bags. How are we to tell which ones have the cocaine in them?” Jack radioed in a whisper, revealing he had moved closer to the action.
“Jack according to the information passed to me from Fagon, the bags we’re looking for are royal blue with a white banner sash across them. Remember, there are 448 bags of this stuff. They’ll probably unload it last to make the weapons exchange. Have you seen anything of the weapons, yet?”
“Not as yet. They have one of the black trucks loaded and it’s heading out.” Jack peered cautiously over the packing crates. “From the looks of it, it’ll be heading east. Tell the Highway Patrol to be on the lookout, but not stop it quite yet. They just opened the back of the white truck and we hit pay dirt. The weapons are in the truck and the flat’s coming out of the hole with the blue bags and white sashes. Here comes another flat of them. Jean, are you sure you want us to bring them down in two waves? Everything’s here on the dock in plain sight.” Jack peered out from behind a packing crate.
“Yes, they have access to the weapons on the docks, placing you in danger from them. Your vest wasn’t made to stop weapons of that caliber. We’ll allow them to store the weapons away safely before you take them down. It’s less likely they’d be able to use them against you once they’ve been stored. It takes the Captain or the First Mate’s recognition code with the locking mechanization to open the cargo hold once they’ve closed the hatch. Robert where are you? Are you within range of taking out that satellite tower when called for?” Jean ordered
“I’m within a mile of the pier. The fog’s starting to get heavier out here. We’re going to have to bring them down before this stuff gets too heavy to see them,” Robert peered through the gloom
“They’re exchanging the goods now. Something’s gone amiss. They’re spooked. They’re scrambling around the docks like a swarm of ants. There’s ten longshoremen plus the five cargo crewmen to deal with. There goes the other black truck. It’s heading north toward Fagon. The white truck’s the one with the goods. They’ve finished loading the truck.
“Whoa, we’ve extra passengers.” Jack moved slightly for a better angle. “I repeat– there are extra passengers in the back of the truck. They placed four armed escorts in the back of the truck and they’re loaded for bear along with the two in front. The weapons have just been loaded onto the deck of the cargo ship. Great, just great, they’re not stowing them away. I repeat the weapons are on deck. Jean they’re casting off the lines to the ship. I’m going to have to move now or lose them.” Jack whispered his voice high with anticipation.
“Hang in there, Jack. Wait for the truck to leave so they will stay on their itinerary. Have half of your men arrest the longshoremen and take two marksmen with you on the ship.” Jean reassured him.
“There goes the truck. Let’s move out. James, you and Digger are with me, the rest of you arrest everyone on the dock. Let’s book, the Monticello’s starting to pick up steam. Go! Go! Go!” Jack barked racing out from behind cover, “Stop, US Marshal, you’re under…”then Jean heard a barrage of gunfire. “Faster James, Digger, pick it up guys, Jump! Uph! Come on James, jump now!” Jack laid down ground fire to allow James and Digger to gain access to the Monticello. “Jean, Digger didn’t make the ship. It’s just James and me. Digger’s helping on the dock. This is US Federal Marshal Post, you’re under arrest! Put your weapons down and shut down the engines,” he yelled, taking cover behind part of the bulkhead.
He received a spray of bullets in response to his request for them to surrender. James and he returned fire.
“Robert! Have them blow that tower now. Mark, get ready. They’ve armed themselves to the teeth with extra firepower in the back of the truck. Someone’s tipped them off. It’s the white truck, license number 656 Satan Charles Prime. There are four extra in the back of the truck with two in front. Mark, be prepared for them to run the roadblock. They’re going to wreak havoc trying to get away. Jack where are you and James in relationship to the weapons?” Jean demanded
“We’re in between them and the crew for now, but that’s all we’re going to be able to do without backup. We need Robert now! Tell him to get the lead out and put a fire under those nut balls on the cutter,” Jack relayed between bouts of gunfire.
“Robert where’s Jack’s support? Get that tower down even if you have to do it yourself. Robert? Robert, damn it, answer me!” Jean yelled in the headset, flipping the switch back and forth, trying to raise him.
Jean heard an explosion and Robert curse over missing the tower. The shell impacted into the warehouse exploding it into flames.
“Damn it! This time, do not miss! Where’s the gunnery sergeant? My partner’s on that ship under fire. Now bring that tower down!” Robert screamed in the seaman’s ear. “We’re coming!”
Another explosion of the gun and again it missed its target impacting into the warehouse. Robert shoved the seaman aside, “Get the hell out of my way. Jean, give me some direction on how to hit that damn tower.”
“Aim two seconds ahead of the tower and fire,” Jean shouted.
He heard Robert fire the gun, and then begging it to hit the mark. He heard the explosion as Robert cheered, “Yeah, I got it. Yeah!”
“Keep your head we’re not out of this yet. We’ve to get that ship stopped before it hits international waters. Get up there to the command tower and order the Monticello to stop or you’ll stop it with any means you have. Accept nothing less than complete compliance. Don’t allow anyone to stop you. Jean relayed. “Jack, how are you doing?”
“We need this tub stopped now. We’re starting to run low on ammo. Get Robert to stop it anyway he can,” Jack’s voice cracked.
“I hear you Jack, I’m on my way,” Robert came back.
Thirty seconds later, they heard Robert cursing, “Open this mother [blanking] door now. Unlock it. They heard Robert cursing once more, “Open this mother [blanking] door right now. Unlock it. You have one second to comply!”
Robert blew the lock off the door then ordered someone to the floor, “On your knees you maggot before I drop you. Jean, the leak was the captain. He laid out the gunnery sergeant and the crewmember in the tower. Hey, do any of you know how to pilot this cutter?”
“I can sir.” The quick reply came from one of the other crewmembers.
“Get in here and take after that cargo ship. I need someone to keep an eye on the captain and someone to check on the hurt crew. Who can fire that 50-caliber gun out there on the deck?”
“I can sir.”
“Go get it ready and when and if I tell you, blow the command tower off that ship, but not before I say so. Where are the loud speakers and the siren?”
“They’re right here, sir. Everyone hang on I’m putting all three screws on full throttle.”
Jean heard the turbines scream under the demand from the command tower then the whoop -whoop -whoop of the siren and Robert’s voice booming over the loud speaker,
“This is the US Federal Marshals, cut your engines and prepare to be boarded. You have thirty seconds to comply, after that, I’ll fire only one warning shot before blowing the command tower off the deck starting now! Fifteen seconds, twenty seconds twenty-five, thirty, fire!”
There was a deafening explosion of the 50-caliber gun, then silence. Robert’s voice cracked the silence, “Stop Now or I’ll fire again. Fire!”
Once again, the 50-caliber gun resounded, its shell screamed through the night, then a large explosion of ripping metal as it found its target. The Monticello came to a rolling stop in the water, flames licking what was left of the command tower. The cutter cruised up beside the Monticello.
“Grab the water hose and put that fire out. Jack you got everything under control?” Robert asked over the loud speaker.
“Robert there’s three guys in the water needing to be fished out of the bay. They bailed right before the shell hit. Thanks for the assist.” Jack came over the headset, “Throw James a line so you can tow us to shore. Jean, we have the weapons. How are we doing on the drug bust end?”
“I haven’t heard anything yet. Mark, what’s going on out there? That truck should be at your roadblock by now,” Jean flipped Mark’s switch several times to get his attention.
“Knock off the clicking in the headset. I’m awake. The truck just came into view. They’re twenty cars back. I just told the officers to quicken the checks so we can go get a couple of drinks and maybe get lucky tonight,” Mark answered Jean.
“You better keep your mind on your work and not drop the ball. They’re not going to give up without a fight,” Jean reminded.
“So right you are, here they come and they aren’t stopping nor are they slowing down. They’re going to try to run the roadblock. Man, Jean, I hope you weren’t kidding about how to catch a speeding vehicle because here I go. Keep me safe St. Christopher!” Mark yelled, pulling out his gun and taking off at a dead run, pacing him as the truck roared passed the first part of the roadblock, sideswiping a van full of kids slamming it into the car beside it.
Mark’s lungs started burning as the truck roared up beside him. He gulped a deep breath leaped for the truck’s side view mirror as they passed. His body slammed into the door as he braced himself on the running board and fender as he held onto the mirror. He slammed his forearm and gun into the side window crashing through it.
He jammed his gun under the driver’s chin screaming, “US Marshal, pull this rig over right now! You, in the other seat get your hands on the dash and don’t move a muscle or he gets his head blown off and yours a second later! You’re both under arrest. I said keep your hands on the dash and I meant it! Get this thing pulled over to the side of the road, that’s right, nice and easy.
“I know there are armed men in the back so if you can contact them in anyway, you better tell them to put their weapons down and duck walk their way out of the back of the truck before I really get pissed off and have to get mean.
“Officers, stay away from the back of that truck! There are armed men in there.’ Mark yelled to the officers approaching the van from behind. “We’re going to get out this side of the truck very carefully, but first, you’re going to take those keys and carefully drop them on the floor and kick them under the seat.” Mark barked, slowly stepping down, opening the door, “That’s right, nice and easy. Keep those hands on the dash as you come. As you noticed, a police officer is on the other side of the truck with instructions to blow away anyone who tries leaving that way. I suggest you pay close attention to what I say and obey it immediately. That’s right, keep coming one at a time. Get down on your knees and uph!”
The second person to exit slammed the door into Mark’s leg. Mark smashed his gun against his assailant’s head as they fell to the ground struggling over Mark’s weapon. Several more officers ran up taking the driver into custody as Mark struggled with the assailant. The assailant twisted up on top of Mark, slowly dragging his gun between them. Seconds later, the gun exploded with Mark screaming, followed by a stream of billingsgate as he smashed his forehead into the other man’s face with a bone crushing headbutt. The man let loose of Mark and grabbed his head in extreme pain. Mark quickly reversed the situation, jumping on top of the assailant and jammed his gun against his assailant’s temple.
“Damn it that hurt you dumb [blank]. You’re under arrest for the attempted murder of a US Marshal. I need a pair of handcuffs for this scum sucking mother [blanker].” He shrieked.
“Get off me you stupid retard, I’m FBI,” the assailant hissed under his breath.
“I don’t care if you’re the Pope himself. You’re under arrest for the attempted murder of a US Marshal and I’m going to push for the gas chamber, you dumb mother [blanking blank] sucker. You’re going down hard and no one will be able to save your worthless hide. Get him out of here and Mirandize him in the car. Hey, does someone have any armor piercing bullets?”
“The SWAT team has a launcher and all sorts of great things,” one officer advised Mark.
“Great, I need a launcher with armor piercing bullets and a grenade launcher in my hands, yesterday.” Mark demanded his rage fully inflamed.
Within a minute, Mark had what he requested and slammed a bullet in the chamber, strategically taking up a position behind the truck. “You, in the truck, have exactly fifteen seconds to surrender yourselves to the US Federal Marshal out here. You’re under arrest by the way, so raise that door three inches and slide your weapons out one at a time then raise the door and slide out one at a time onto the ground when I give you permission. Start raising that door now. You’ve five seconds left to comply. Four, three, two, and one, too late you made me mad,” he placed an armor-piercing bullet through the top of the door, ripping a large gaping hole in it. “Last chance to surrender nicely,” he inserted the gas grenade in the launcher.
He took aim and fired the grenade through the gaping hole. It exploded, filling the truck with noxious fumes. They heard the men choking inside as they slid the door open. The weapons clattered to the ground followed by the four men falling out of the truck. They gasped for air, with tears streaming down their faces as they lay in the dirt.
Mark handed the launcher back to the SWAT member. He grabbed four pairs of handcuffs in one hand, his revolver in the other. “On your knees and crawl toward my voice until you’re told to stop, and then lay with your faces in the dirt. You’re under arrest for drug possession with the attempt to deliver. Halt, faces in the dirt, with your hands behind your backs with your noses buried in the dirt. If we see so much as an eye lash before you’re given permission, I’ll personally blow it away.”
He quickly snapped the handcuffs on the men and gave them their Mirandize rights as he went. He turned them over to the officers to have them patted down before placing them in the squad cars. Mark proceeded to the truck. He pulled out the bags of coffee and split them open. He pulled out the bags of cocaine, placing them on the back edge of the bed of the truck one after another.
He was halfway through the bags when Fagon came pulling up with lights flashing. He rose as Fagon came toward him with his hand extended as a friend.
“Good work officer, I’ll take it from here,” Fagon smiled, flexing his shoulders in triumph.
Mark smiled back, “That was a wrong statement. This is a US Marshal Division bust. We’re in full control here, thanks for the offer of mopping up, but we have everything well in control.”
Fagon’s smile died quickly, “You don’t understand son, there was an FBI agent with this shipment which makes this our bust.”
“No, you don’t understand.” Mark’s temper got the best of him, “He forfeited any claim to this bust when he tried to kill a US marshal. He’s under arrest for attempted murder and drug running. Furthermore, I’m not your [blanking] son, you son of a [blank]!” Mark straightened up and glared at Fagon squarely in the face without batting an eye.
Fagon grabbed Mark by the shirt and hit him in the mouth blaring, “I’ll have your badge for this you son of a [blank].”
Mark spit blood, “You can try, but it’s going to be a challenge with you behind bars for assaulting a US Federal Marshal while trying to impede him in the line of duty. You’re under arrest,” Mark snapped, throwing Fagon to the ground and handcuffing him. He removed Fagon’s weapon from his holster and placed it in the back of his belt as he yanked Fagon to his feet, “You have the right to remain silent…”
“You’ll never get away with this! Not only will I have your badge over this, I’ll have that no good son of a [blank] boss of yours also. Do you hear me DeBois? You [blank]. You’re going down you [blank],” Fagon ranted and raved as Mark pulled him to the squad car.
He opened the door and shoved Fagon inside and answered, “You made a grandiose mistake this time, Fagon. I have thirty fellow officers and surveillance saw you strike me trying to stop me from doing my duty. It’s you who is going down for the count.”Then Mark finished Fagon’s Mirandize rights and slammed the door shut before going back to counting the bags of cocaine.
Soon there were one thousand three hundred and forty-four bags of pure cocaine lying on the truck bed. It was sending the drug-sniffing dogs crazy so Mark finally sent them away. He called for an armored car to transport the cocaine into evidence. They were just taping off the area as the news vans pulled up. Mark was checking on the passengers in the accident, when he saw Christen Hobbit, along with her camera operator, skirt under the perimeter tape and head for the coffee truck.
He ran to intercept her, “Stop right there Ms. Hobbit, turn around, and get back to the other side of the perimeter tape.”
“Officer, the public has the right to know what’s going on. Phil, we’ll broadcast over by the coffee truck, and then pan back to all the spilt coffee beans. Stick around officer and I’ll interview you as part of my story, if you cooperate,” she ignored Mark and trying to get pass him to her objective.
“Phil is it?” Mark commanded, snagging her arm. “Well Phil, if you start that camera on this side of the perimeter tape, I’ll arrest you both for interfering in a Federal investigation. Now, get back across the evidence tape. You’ve thirty seconds to comply,”
“That would be impeding the Press and the freedom of Knowledge Act and most important the First Amendment, officer, what’s your name for the record.” She retorted trying to pull free.
“I don’t care what the [blank] you broadcast or report on as long as you’re on the other side of that tape. You have fifteen seconds left.” Mark gave her a shove toward the tape.
“I’m not going to be bullied by the likes of you,” Christen retorted, turning back to Mark.
“Officer, I need a couple of pairs of handcuffs!” Mark barked in her face.
“Come on Christen, he’s not kidding. We can’t get the scoop if we’re behind bars,” Phil said, lowering his camera and yanking her toward the tape. “No need for the handcuffs officer, we’re going.”
“You make sure they and any other reporters stay on the other side of the perimeter tape. They put one foot on our side, arrest them for obstructing justice. There’ll be no second chances. Keep them on their side and don’t make any comments. Take as many officers as you need to keep the perimeter clear,” Mark barked orders to several Highway Patrolmen, watching them to make sure she was on the other side of the tape before going back to his duties.
There had been no casualties, only a few minor bumps and bruises. The paramedics took over the care of the civilians. He sat down on the rear of the truck and waited for the arrival of the armored car, rubbing his vest where the bullet had impacted. It had almost gone clear through before the vest was able to stop the bullet’s acceleration. Gauging by the amount of pain in his side, he guessed the impact broke one, if not more, of his ribs and would result in severe bruising. His head now throbbed. He probably shouldn’t have used it as a battering ram on the FBI agent.
“Hey Jean, I’ve everything pretty well wrapped up here. How are Jack and Robert doing on their end of things?” he inquired weakly.
“We’ve everything wrapped up here on the docks. Everyone’s in custody and the weapons are on their way to our evidence room. You don’t sound too good. What’s the matter, Mark?” Robert radioed in.
“Robert, could you ask one of those Port Authority helicopters to bring you over here so you could take over for me and wait for the armor car? That dumb [blanking] FBI agent tried to take me out with my own weapon. Stupid mother [blanker], I took him out with a headbutt, but my head isn’t as hard as granite like Jean’s head is.
“My head’s splitting and I can hardly breathe from the impact of the bullet to my ribs. Dumb mother [blanker blank] sucking [blank], we’re supposed to be on the same side, [blank] sucker. I hope I crushed his [blanking] skull for him, mother [blanker] this hurts like a son of a [blank]. How did Jean do it without a vest on, damn this hurts.”
“We’re on our way Mark, sit tight. I’ll have Robert over there within three minutes. There is a helicopter now, I’ll commandeer it, myself,” Jack came back.
“Tell Janet thanks for being a mother hen, Jack. From now on she may mother henpeck me anytime she wants,” Mark mumbled, holding his head in his hands.
Jean switched frequencies and told the paramedics to get over to the truck to check Mark out. He switched back and called Mark, “Mark, the paramedics are on their way to help you. You’re their top priority right now. Jack, where are you with that helicopter? Mark needs it now!”
“We’re coming up on the scene now. I see Mark sitting on the bumper of the truck amidst the largest pile of coffee beans I have ever seen. The cocaine is stacked in the back of the truck. The paramedics are with him now. I’ll set down just beyond the scene. What the [blank]? Jean, we’ve company up here. It’s Christen Hobbit again in a news chopper. What do you want me to do?” He glanced over and eyeballed the news chopper.
“Have they crossed the perimeter tape yet?”
“Yes, they’re thirty feet beyond it.”
“Then force them down and take them into custody. We warned them not to cross the tape. I don’t care if they’re in the air or not. They’re impeding an investigation. Lock them up now.” Jean barked the order, banging his fist against the desk.
“Roger that,” Jack said flipping on the loud speaker, “This is US Federal Marshal Post. You have crossed the perimeter tape and entered a restricted territory. Set the chopper down. You’re under arrest for impeding a federal investigation. You’ve thirty seconds to comply before we force you out of the sky. Robert, get the anti-air craft assault weapon ready. You’ve fifteen seconds to comply.”
Robert opened the side door and got in position with the weapon to blow the chopper out of the sky. The pilot turned ashen and Christen’s face was crimson over the threat.
“You’ve ten seconds- nine- eight- seven… ” that was all the pilot could take; he flew the helicopter beyond the scene and set it down with Jack right on his tail all the way.
As soon as the news helicopter was on the ground, police officers swarmed it, taking the occupants into custody. Robert jumped out of the helicopter and made sure the arrest was made under federal charges. When Robert placed her in the squad car, Christen started screaming about the freedom of the Press and the First Amendments rights violation.
Robert shook his head in disgust, “Tell it to the judge, lady, you were warned.”
She answered him with a stream of billingsgate which made Mark sound like a choirboy during Sunday Mass. Robert ignored the billingsgate and left to help Mark instead of wasting any more time with her. Soon they were in the air and headed for Mt. Sinai NYU Health Center, while Robert remained behind with the evidence.
Jean flipped Jack and Robert’s headsets off and Janet’s back on, “Janet, how are things going at the office?”
“Better than we expected. When forensics sprayed the office and flipped the ALS on, we got the shock of our lives. There are blood spatters covering the entire office. By this evidence, Wallace wasn’t the first murder Hogan committed in this office. They also found rug fibers they’re sure will match the rug that was Wallace’s burial shroud. When they checked the cars, they found traces of blood and more rug fibers. Guess which associate of Hogan’s it belongs to?”
“Please tell me it belongs to Franco. You’d make my day if you could.”
“Well, today’s your lucky day.” She walked out to her car. “You hit the nail right on the head. When we searched the security room, large groups of tapes were missing. The newly hired young security guard was very helpful and told us Hogan has a habit of taking the tapes home with him to view at his leisure. The tape of Angel One was still here along with last Monday’s. According to the security guard, they haven’t left the security room yet so they should hit pay dirt for us.” Janet held the tape securely in her hand.
“I cleaned out Hogan’s office. From the looks of things, we’re going to need a code breaker for most of this stuff. I left Tripper at the office to finish up while I went to Hogan’s estate to see how Slaughter was doing. He found Franco here, recuperating by banging Hogan’s wife.
“Moreover, here I was feeling sorry for her because she had such a scumbag for a husband and she is just as bad as he is.” Janet opened the car door. “They truly deserve each other. She wasn’t very cooperative with Slaughter until I pointed out that I was sure I’d get a conviction on her for being a co-conspirator in Wallace’s murder. After that, she was the most cooperative person ever. We didn’t even need to use any equipment for what we were after; she revealed all Hogan’s dirty little secrets.” Janet sat behind the driver’s seat and glanced through the box of evidence, shocked at what they revealed.
“Jean you’re right about Hogan being a sexual predator. He has a completely secret room from his point of view, or so he thought, for his conquest. He’s one sick puppy. The room where he kept the surveillance tapes is off that room. It looks like he would bring them home and make duplicates for his enjoyment. That enjoyment’s going to cost him dearly; he’s going down for the complete count for life, if not the gas chamber, for what he has on these tapes. This is how arrogant he was; he stuck subtitles on the tapes for easy reference.” Janet started the car and headed back toward the office.
“How did we do on the rest of the bust? You shut off my incoming microphone so I couldn’t hear what was going on. I know you could hear me, but that wasn’t fair, not allowing me to listen in on the guys taking the crooks down. Everyone’s okay, aren’t they?”
“Jack’s taking Mark to Mt. Sinai to have him checked out. He tried to take down the FBI undercover agent with a headbutt after the agent tried to gun him down with Mark’s own weapon. He arrested him and Fagon for assaulting him and interfering with a US Marshal while doing his duty.” Jean made notes on the pad in front of him for further reference.
“Mark was shot? Jean, how bad was it?”
“The vest took most of the impact but Mark believes it might have broken at least one of his ribs. He probably gave himself a concussion with the headbutting maneuver. By the way, he says you may henpeck him anytime from now on out, after the vest incident. I believe it’s his way of thanking you for saving his scrawny little backside, by demanding he wears the vest.”
“The only man I want to henpeck is Jack, but tell Mark, he is welcome.”
“Tell me yourself, I can hear you,” Mark’s voice weakly came over his speaker, “Jean forgot to shut my incoming microphone off. We not only got the drugs, weapons, and arresting Fagon and an undercover FBI agent along with the captain of the cutter, Jack forced that nuisance Christen Hobbit out of the sky, arresting her for crossing the police evidence tape and impeding an ongoing investigation. I’ve wanted to do that for so long. She’s been a thorn in our side for long enough. It felt good to hear her screaming like a common streetwalker once Robert knocked her off her high and mighty throne.
“They’re going to keep me here for observation. I did give myself a concussion. My rib isn’t broken, just bruised the hell out of it. The doctor said I would probably wish I’d broken it because, for some reason, it takes longer to heal. I’m in the hospital for forty-eight hours to make sure there isn’t any soft tissue damage.
“Hey, tell Jack thanks for bringing me here for treatment. I’ve only been here for a half an hour and I already have five names and numbers of some very gorgeous gals working here. I guess they go for a fallen hero. I’m going to have to make sure a couple of them are eighteen, though. Janet, you wouldn’t mind running them through the computer for me, would you? Do it for a fallen comrade in arms.”
“Pick up chicks on your own time, you little creep. How did you keep your headset when you entered the emergency room, anyway? They take all those kind of items right from the beginning,” Janet inquired. “Besides, isn’t eighteen a little too young for you?”
“Not really, I just turned twenty-four last month, so it’s still within reasonable age without it being perverted. As to my headset, I wouldn’t allow them to take it. I told them it was a national security type of a mission. I still retain my gun and shield. The chicks really go for a man in authority.” Mark crowed.
Jean took all of Mark’s shenanigans he could stomach; he flipped Mark’s intercom off and Jack’s on. “Jack, get in there and take the headset, shield, and gun away from Mark. He’s using them to pick up girls. He’ll be okay as long as I don’t get my hands on him for abusing his position for personal gain. They’re keeping him for forty-eight hours to make sure everything is all right. Mister Lone Wolf’s on the prowl again, so go break his leg before I have to break his neck,” Jean told Jack with a disgusted sigh over Mark’s overactive hormones.
“It’ll be my pleasure, Boss. Is Janet’s headset on so she can hear me?”
“It sure is, darling. How are you feeling?” she cooed at him.
“Oh for Christ’s sake, get a land line if you’re going to get mushy. Stop using government equipment to make out with your husband. Janet, are you done with your part of the bust?” Jean mumbled.
“Yes, but me thinks we hit a nerve.”
“Good night, you two knuckleheads,” Jean snapped their headsets off. He snapped Robert’s on, “Robert, how are things going?”
“Great, everything is properly stored away. I’m on my way home to call to see how Mark is getting along.”
“He’s fine. He’s already on the prowl. We’re going to have to get him neutered so he can stay focused on what he’s supposed to be doing, instead of chasing skirts.”
“He sounds kind of like a younger version of you,” Robert taunted.
“That was the wrong answer. Remind me to bust you in the mouth when I see you,” Jean answered him clicking Robert off also, shutting down the system.
Enjoy the free chapter and you can find the complete novel at books2read.com/u/mVLMpb and amzn.to/1u92UUj. The novel chapter of Rendezvous with the Past is coming next. Stay tune.
I am featuring my crime murder mystery series over the next few weeks. I will be sharing appetizers from the novels to wet the readers’ anticipation. The first in the series is titled The Perfect Witness. You can find it at https://books2read.com/u/m0G2W3 for your eBook options or https://amzn.to/1u92UUj for a kindle edition or print copy.
THE PERFECT WITNESS,
IN THE DEBOIS SERIES
WRITTEN BY SUE RAYMOND
All the characters in this book are fictitious, any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Places are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.
COPYRIGHT © SUE RAYMOND
Bible passages quote are from the King James Version
Without limiting the rights under copyrights reserved above, no part of this book may be reproduced in any unauthorized format into any retrieval system or transmitted by any means without prior written permission of the author.
FIRST EDITION 2008
Second Edition 2015
IBN 13: 978-1514877678
The Perfect Witness, Book One: The DeBois Series/ Sue Raymond
Upon Eagle’s Wings, Malachi Ink Publishing
516 East Park Avenue, Des Moines, Iowa 50315
Miss Anderson was running late because of traffic. Mr. Hogan’s office called two weeks earlier for a wedding gown consultation for his daughter who was getting married in nine months. She proceeded up the marble stairs toward his office, straightening the light blue suede jacket of her suit, juggling her portfolio and purse as she went.
This better be on the level since I spent so much time drawing up all the different designs they wanted. To think that anyone would spend so much on just the wedding dress is beyond me. However, without these extravagant eccentrics I soon would no longer have ‘Upon Eagle’s Wing Designer Studio, Malachi Inc. which helps pay the bills. Well, I hope she does not take all day to make up her mind. I hate dealing with spoiled brats who whine excessively at their parents that they deserve this. What they deserve is a swift rap on the hand with Mother Superior’s ruler over being a self-centered egotist obnoxious delinquent.
She was lost in thought when she overheard a loud conversation coming from her client’s open office door. Mr. Hogan was screaming at a certain Mr. Wallace. Mr. Wallace was explaining about a shipment that was coming in from Colombia on the Monticello next Saturday at Pier 57 in Cowanus Bay at 9:00 pm in South Brooklyn. Miss Anderson peered through the crack in Mr. Hogan’s doorway.
“I apologize for the leak, which cost us the last drug and weapon shipment. I assured you the leak is now sealed,” Mr. Wallace, a small twig of a man, wrung his hands together while he stood before the oversized desk, groveling under Mr. Hogan’s stony gaze.
Michelin Hogan reached into his desk, pulling out a nine-millimeter Beretta handgun with a silencer on it and pointed it at Mr. Wallace.
He scowled ghoulishly, “I always make sure all loose ends are tied up.” He pulled the trigger, shooting Mr. Wallace directly in the chest and tossed the gun to the mammoth henchman standing by his side.
Mr. Wallace crumpled to the floor onto an oriental area rug. Mr. Hogan glared at the body, instructing his henchmen to take out the trash.
She backed away from the door and was almost at the stairs when she bumped into a small table holding a vase. She desperately tried catching the vase, but lost everything in the process, even tearing her nylons. The vase and her portfolio went crashing to the floor spraying toward Hogan’s office door. It gave the impression of her just coming up the stairs when the vase broke. She quickly knelt down, trying to retrieve the sketches as one of the henchmen came charging out of the office, his hand in his jacket in a threatening manner.
Miss Anderson glanced up at him, “Could you help me pick up my sketches? I am running late for my appointment with Mr. Hogan and his daughter.”
He glared down at her, his expression held an unspoken threat. Mr. Hogan came out of his office, straightening his tie and summing up the situation. When he was satisfied she had not overheard or seen anything he told his henchman, “Don’t just stand there, you big lummox, pick up her stuff for her.” He came over to her saying, “I overheard you say you were running late, my daughter is also running late from shopping with her mother. I would like to reschedule our appointment for say… maybe Friday if you would be able. I would appreciate it if you could accommodate me in this.” He took her hand, helping her up as the henchman gathered her portfolio.
“Y-yes that will be fine,” she stammered taking back the portfolio and glancing nervously toward the stairs.
He walked her out to a waiting taxi and opened the door for her. “Thank you for rescheduling the appointment and, since I know what an inconvenience this places you in, I will make sure it will be worth your while to come back again.” He shut the door and the taxi sped off. Miss Anderson shuttered, glancing back to see Mr. Hogan talking to one the henchmen and pointing to the speeding taxi.
Su Anderson went to her studio, making sure there was no surveillance placed on her before going to the authorities.
The cartel sent an assassin to silence Su Andrewson because she witnessed a murder by a crime lord. Now she is under the protection of US Marshall Jean DeBois. #crime #MurderMystery #assassin #amzn.to/1u92UUj #USMarshall #WitnessProtection #CR4U #books2read.com/u/m0G2W3
I just received a five star review from a fan. I want to thank all my fans and really appreciate the time they take to give me reviews on my novels.
5.0 out of 5 stars
Entertaining Moonlighting-esque relationship
By C.T. Top Contributor: Star Trekon July 21, 2018
Format: Kindle Edition
A great collection of mysteries built around solid characters. Sue Raymond weaves a nice set of adventures around Su Michael Anderson and Jean DeBois. They have a delightful antagonist relationship where Su doesn’t have room for romance in her life with business and her adopted children– let alone becoming a witness. Watching him try to deal with her is always entertaining and the attitude she gives him is quite fun. This is a good bargain and enjoyable book trilogy throughout.
DeBois Crime Murder Mystery Box Set: Volumes 1-3 (DeBois Crime Murder Mystery Series)
by Sue Raymond
5.0 out of 5 stars
5.0 out of 5 stars
4 star (0%)
3 star (0%)
2 star (0%)
1 star (0%)
One of these days I’m going to be able to feature the exact page without trouble. LOL!
The winner of the contest is Cassandra. I have sent her set of the of the DeBois crime murder mystery series, books one thru three. You can find the DeBois Series at amzn.to/1u92UUj for your reading enjoyment.
101 E. Salem Ave. Indianola Iowa 50125
10- 6 Mom. – Fri. 9 -3 Sat
Read a Book Nook
103 East Linn Street Marshalltown, Iowa 50158
hours: 10-5 Mon -Fri.
There is two brick and mortar stores that are now carrying my novels. They are Page Turners Book Store in Indianola, Iowa and Read a Book Nook in Marshalltown, Iowa. Page Turners has my crime murder mystery series where as Read a Book Nook has every book I have written. Buy from them for no shipping and handling, waiting for your purchase, or out of stock like you do online. My novels consist of the DeBois crime murder mystery series, a Drama- Resin La Rock, Thriller- Window Pane, and Fantasy- Healer of Surflex. All my novels are also in Ebook formats and Healer of Surflex is also in audio from ACX.