Chapter 9

Chuck

The household went to the patio for breakfast. That morning, Lisa and I were taking off for the beginning of our tour of offices around the country. Our first stop was going to be in Seattle, an office that is both a regular U.S. Marshal's office, but also houses the Marshal for that area when he isn't in DC to fight for funding.

After lots of hugs and kisses, and getting a big sack full of sandwiches from Julie, Lisa and I went home for our suitcases and weapons cases. We have learned to be prepared and never to leave home without them.

Out at the airpark, the Citation was out in front of the hangar, looking ready to leap into the air. While I did the preflight, with Jimmy following me around the aircraft, Lisa went into the charter office to file our flight plan and check the weather.

When she came out, she told me there was only a little weather en route, but we should be able to get on top of it. She said we were assigned flight level 390 (39,000 feet) heading west. She said she filed to go straight through and not stop for fuel for the almost four and half hour flight.

We were at altitude by eight o'clock, cranked up to our normal cruising speed of right at 600 miles an hour. Lisa was enjoying being in the left seat while I luxuriated in the right seat and fetched coffee. By the time I had our first cup in cockpit cup holders, Lisa had the flight management computer coupled to the autopilot. Now all we had to do is to keep our eyes open and watch the instruments and gauges.

Lisa asked, "Do you think this manhunt up there is going to take much time? Let's go over the file, see what's in it, and get an update when we get there."

I began reading the file aloud to Lisa, trying to make it less dry than an investigation file really is. When the file said the suspect avoided capture by seconds a couple of times, I said he bugged out and was playing hide and seek. Not very original, but more fun.

We did the entire file twice, looking at the various photos and descriptions of what weapons and explosives the suspect might have. I kept coming back to the type of explosive the guy had been accumulating. There was a notation that the suspect had left a small box behind that contained about ten pounds of Eregel, an RDX explosive. I know that stuff. It was originally developed by the Navy as a torpedo explosive, and was also the active ingredient in C4, the plastic explosive that was so ubiquitous among both military and terrorists. That was what Sam and I took from that warehouse and watched explode in the desert. Where in the world would this guy get that? Could he have gotten it from the original load from Vegas, or was it from somewhere else, like the same supplier that had been shipping the stuff in and out of Las Vegas. The RDX in this batch of Eregel lacked the chemical tags that are mixed in by all US and European explosives manufacturers to identify the source, and usually even the date of manufacture, so it had to come from either a home lab or a third world country.

I gave Lisa a history of what I knew about Eregel and hoped the suspect didn't have a lot of the powerful explosive. Ten pounds properly placed would cause more damage than the Oklahoma City bombing. I've already witnessed first hand what that stuff can do in quantity.

The two of us ate a couple of sandwiches and had some more coffee. A couple of more hours and we would have some more answers.

Steve

The whole group of patio people were wired this morning. We used to say amped up in the Marines. With Tiny and Henry gone, you would think it would be a little less rowdy, but since the inclusion of the band members, every get-together has people laughing throughout. Mercy was sitting on one side of me and Sue on the other. Mercy said, "It's nice to have so much laughter in the morning. I'm sure it sends everyone off to work in a good mood."

From the other side, Sue said, "The kids are usually still wired when they get into classes up at the rec center." She turned to Gina next to her and asked, "How do Gio and Sophia feel about the way we do school?"

Gina smiled, "They say it is easy to do well in this school. They have shown me how well they are learning to read and write the English. I need to go up there with them so I can be as fluent in my new language as they will be."

Mercy said, "You know you would be welcome, and I'm sure you would receive a lot of one on one attention from all of us as we want you to learn."

Gina said, "I want to write like Glenda. She writes so beautifully. I saw her list of groceries and it is so perfect, so precise; the letters flowed from one to the next. I know it as, what you say, ah, script, but she writes in an almost different kind of script."

Sue handled that one, "Glenda learned to write a long time ago. Her script came from using a real ink pen that students had to dip the tips into a small jar they called an ink well. They wrote on paper without lines, but still wrote in a straight line. They learned to make all of their letters the same size and always spaced exactly the same. You can learn that, and Glenda would probably teach you." Gina was smiling as she continued to eat. You could tell she was thinking about what Sue had said when she asked, "Did all of the older people learn to write that way? That would mean many of the older ladies here in the park know how to write that way."

I told Gina, "Not everyone is as precise as Glenda is, but most of the older people learned to write that way."

Sue and I agreed to put off beginning our tour of the distributorships. We both felt that our time would be better served around home. Besides that we were somewhat tired of traveling and wanted to be lazy for a little while.

After breakfast, I spent the morning at the shop answering a stack of calls that had mysteriously accumulated. There was nothing special, just a lot of butt kissing, but almost everyone I called back wanted to be transferred to customer service to place an order when we were finished.

As I was finishing making my last call, there was a knock on my open door sill. Dago, our delivery guy, was smiling at me with his cap in his hands. "Come in, Dago, you know you're welcome in here any time you need to talk to me."

Dago asked, "Do you have a minute, Mr. Sharp?"

I smiled as told him, "Uh oh, it must be something bad if I'm Mr. Sharp now. You know me, Steve, all the time."

Dago nodded with a grin, as he entered the office.

I got up, went around the desk to shake his hand, and waved at the little table in my office area. When we sat, I used the phone to ask Debbie to bring us some coffee. I had to ask Dago if he wanted cream or sugar, but he was like me and wanted his black.

While we waited for coffee, I asked Dago, "So how are you doing? I know you're ramrodding the truck traffic and still running a lot of deliveries yourself. How come you're still doing deliveries and not just scheduling and getting loads together?"

"Mr. Sharp," he began, but I waved my hand at him. "Okay, Steve, I'm still doing local deliveries because our business has been off some and I wanted to make sure all of us kept the company in the black. Let's just say it's my contribution."

Debbie brought us coffee and sat at the table with a steno pad. I asked, "So what's up, Dago?"

His eyes shifted back and forth from me to Debbie, her steno pad, and back to me, "Ah, you know my truck. The truck you bought from me when I went to work here full time?"

"Sure, Dago, do we still have that one? It's has to be pretty used up by now."

"Steve, it still runs good because we have some of the best mechanics around. What we need is a new body for the truck. This one is really getting bad, you know, worn, dented, and rusted. The side panels are rusting and shelves are breaking from their braces. The shop has welded them for me every time I've asked, but they have been telling me that it's past time for me to find another truck, or at least a new body."

I said to him, "Okay, let us find you a new truck," I said, as I pointed to Debbie's steno pad. As she was making a note, I asked, "Do you have one in mind? Have you begun looking for what you need?"

Dago said, "I think one just like I have now will do the trick for most local deliveries of small orders. We use one of the semi flatbeds and converted tractors, or one of the big flatbed trucks with the tilting beds for big stuff, like lifts, or generators. I use the truck for picking up boxes of T-shirts for our race day trucks, as well as some of the clothing Miss Sue is putting on the trucks too. I run orders out to customers here in Florida, and occasionally up to South Carolina, but I let the big haulers do the rest. If it's just a small part, we ship it UPS or FedEx if it's needed immediately."

"What else, Dago? Is there anything else I can help you with?"

"There is, Sir, ah, Steve. I'm going on vacation next week and I wanted to know if I could get a room down in Key West where we have the condos for the people that get attaboys. I don't get those, but I'd like to go down there on my own nickel to enjoy the beaches and atmosphere there. My wife put the bug in my ear, so I'm here asking."

I looked at Debbie, "We've been shortchanging a very important person within our company and organization, Debbie. How do you think we could make this up to him?"

Debbie stood and said, "Let me check on something and I'll be right back."

Dago and I chatted for less than five minutes before Debbie came back and handed me a note. It said, "Condo available for two weeks on Key West."

I asked Dago, "I'll bet you have a lot more than a week's vacation saved up. I never see you take off."

Dago said, "I have to use some of my vacation time to take care of my family from time to time, but I do have quite a bit saved up."

I told Dago, "How about a couple of weeks in one of the condos down on Key West. You and your family can all go. I'm not sure you can invite all of your cousins, aunts, and uncles, but it is more than big enough for your family."

"I don't know, ah, Steve. That might be out of my price range."

"Dago, this is a gift from the company, an attaboy. You've done a hell of a job for us since we first started. Keeping you happy is important."

The man sat there with his mouth open, "Do you really mean that? A real vacation, paid for?"

With a smile, I said, "Tell you what, I'll personally ferry you and your family down there in one of our airplanes."

The man was grinning, "Can you use one of the painted up airplanes? I see them all the time when I'm picking up or delivering out at the airpark. That would be really good."

"Consider it done. Debbie, what day can he go down?"

Debbie said, "How about Friday afternoon until two weeks later on Saturday or Sunday. The next scheduled guest is the following Monday. Saturday would be better for timing."

Dago looked up, "How about I go up on Friday and come home on Friday. That would be more than enough time for the wife and kids to enjoy themselves."

Now I was grinning, "Good deal, Dago. Now, go find a new truck. Make sure this one has air too. The old one is a sweat box in the summer."

Dago got up, shook my hand, and backed out the door, about to bust with happiness.

Debbie said, "I wish every problem we encountered was that easy. That was nice, Steve. We also need to give Dago a raise pretty soon. I don't think he's had a salary increase for over five years."

I told her, "Check with Ruth's office and make sure he's given whatever the increases should be by now. He's sort of a splinter person, with no real boss except for Abe and me, but he serves everyone."

Debbie got up and said, "You better be thinking about going to lunch and exercise. Don't want the boss to be getting fat and sloppy, or the other boss to be angry at me."

I threw a pencil at her as she scurried out the door. Driving home, I thought about how cushy my real job was. I only had to make a decision every once in a while, but my main job was to direct traffic and give praise. I suppose that was important, but the company has become so big that it lives in spite of itself. The key to everything has been our quest for a perfect product. From one end to the other, we are always working to make that product better than anyone and this has made S&S successful.

The patio was bustling with activity. All of the kids were at one of the big tables and I noticed that all of Chuck's women, except Lisa, took up almost an entire table. The band guys were split between the kids and Chuck's ladies table, telling jokes and cutting up with the kids. They were our own lunchtime floor show. Sue asked me if I was ready for the gym and sun. I said, "Let's get everyone together who wants to go and get started. We need to do this, but I want to get back to work to do something."

With a crooked mouth, Sue said, "You have about as much to do as I do. We busted butt to get everything rolling, and now it is has a life of its own. How many big decisions did you make this morning, any that someone else couldn't have made?"

"You got me; just some calls, and Dago wants a new truck and a vacation. I told him to find a truck and to leave Friday for one of the Key West condos for two weeks. Debbie could have handled everything."

Sue grinned, "See, that's what I told you. We have to come up with something for us to get behind that will take up some of our free time. Let's both think about it and see if there is something we can get involved with."

Chuck

Lisa was descending while I contacted Seattle approach control for instructions. I completed the landing checklist as we entered the glide path at about five thousand feet at ten miles. We did all of the little things like landing gear, flaps, throttle, and Lisa set the Citation down just like it was on glass. We were given taxi instructions to the civil terminal, went to the assigned position, and shut down. A couple of trucks and a car came out from the side of the terminal. The ground crew chocked our wheels as we opened the door.

Another ground crew attendant said he serviced federal aircraft and asked for instructions on what he should do for us. I gave him the normal instructions of check the exterior, tires, and refuel. I told him that we may need to stay the night, so if we did, he should secure the aircraft.

One of the men from the car came over and asked, "You're Charles or Chuck Johnson, right?"

As soon as I nodded and smiled, the man said, "We have a detail to watch your aircraft and will stay with it as long as you're on the ground."

"That's a good deal. I appreciate you guys looking after the airplane. If you have to leave, make sure you lock the aircraft. We're going to leave our clothes and equipment on board. If you get hungry, there are sandwiches in the galley, along with water, and if they will hook up ground power, you can make some coffee. Have the attendants clean the trash up for us. First things first, though, I have to take a leak."

Lisa said, "Me too. I suppose we could have used the onboard potty, but both of us are used to waiting."

We caught a ride with the driver to the terminal, and checked in with operations after using the restrooms. It was good to stretch the legs. Our driver said he would take us directly to the U.S. Marshal's station so we could do what we came for."

At the station, we had to go through all of the handshaking and introductions, along with, "I remember you from the operation up in the mountains. Is that the same person that was with you?" The man was pointing at Lisa.

She just smiled.

We went into their conference room that was between the Station Chief's and Ace's offices. Spread out on the table was much of the same file we had already studied. There were more photographs and a series of lab tests. I kept looking for identification information until I knew what was missing from our file. "Do you know the suspects name?"

The Station Chief said, "We have about fifteen aliases, along with some composite drawings, a couple of surveillance photos, and video footage, but we don't know who he is yet. The man knows he's being hunted, but has been a step ahead of us. We've even entered an apartment with a cigarette still burning. It was burnt almost all the way to the filter, but that would still be just minutes. We collected matching fingerprints and lifted DNA from several objects that confirm it's the same person, but no name as the guy doesn't have a record, and has never been fingerprinted before. From eyewitnesses, the man looks like he's from normal Anglo-Saxon heritage. A waitress said he had light brown hair with blue eyes. She said he had a single tattoo on his right wrist and another on his neck at collar level. Let me show you an area map and where he's been."

I studied the map to see if there was a pattern. All of the places where he had been spotted, or had stayed at, were almost in a circle. He was now on his second trip around the circle. I asked for an enlarged map of the circled area, wanting to see what was in the middle.

There was nothing special around or in the center of the area the suspect was circling, just the normal middle class neighborhoods, with a few scattered businesses and grocery stores. I asked, "Are there any government offices located within the area?"

"Not that we know of, Chuck, but you know how some of the agencies are. They don't tell us everything. They could have an office next door to this building and we wouldn't know."

I asked, "Have you contacted all of the agencies like the ATF and DEA to make sure they weren't staging a sting or an undercover move? How about the FBI, the file said they were assisting in the search."

The Station Chief nodded, "We've been candid with all of the agencies in advising them of the danger the suspect presents."

I wondered, "How did you guys get on the guy's trail? Isn't this FBI territory?"

"We were assisting the Feebs with some of their observation work when we found a note, the one mentioned in the file, about blowing up some federal bureaucrats. We were able to track the note to the first place we found he had stayed at for the last month. It was two places later that he left the Eregel. I didn't know what that stuff was, but the bomb squad people scared us to death when they came to pick it up. I've never heard of the stuff, much less seen it. It sort of looks like a more moist C-4, mixed with an explosive gelatin and from what I've been able to ascertain, it doesn't take much to set it off. A very simple detonator will do the job, sort of like nitro. The ATF is very interested in tracking down where the stuff came from." The Station Chief sat back in his chair. "Any ideas?" Lisa and I looked at each other, and I said, "How about driving us around the area so we can get a look see for ourselves. I would like to go up and down every street within the grid you have plotted. Let's use something that's unmarked and doesn't look like law enforcement."

The Chief said, "We have just the thing. We have an older Caravan with very dark tinted windows. It'll work fine during the day, but really restricts vision at night. Do you want me to come along or would a driver and another deputy work?"

"You can stay and get caught up on paperwork. I know how it is, and that you push a pencil a lot more than you manage or assist in law enforcement."

We were driving up and down the streets within the grid. I first wanted to go north and south, and then go over the same area east and west. I was concentrating on what little we knew of the guy, and focusing on his hand drawn picture. As we passed one intersection, I felt a pull toward it and wrote down the cross streets. When we were going back over the territory east and west, I felt it again, and checked the intersection. It was the same.

When we were a couple blocks away, I asked the driver to stop. I looked at Lisa and I think she may have felt the same thing.

I told the deputy and deputy driver to wait for us as we wanted to walk the area around where we were. Lisa and I set out on foot, walking back toward the intersection. I asked Lisa, "Did you feel the pull this area had?"

She said, "I felt something, but I don't know what it was. This is strange. If you can track someone down just by feeling him, you are going to be very popular."

I answered, "You know, it could be what the suspect is interested in, as well. Let's just stroll like we're two carefree people and study the landscape and people. We need to check everyone out that we think we have a feeling for, or a feeling for something."

At the intersection, there was a sort of neighborhood grocery on one corner, and a dry cleaner on another. The third corner had a newsstand, candy store combination, that the window balloons obviously indicated had a soda fountain. The fourth corner had what looked like an empty storefront, with the windows tinted or painted over. I directed Lisa toward the candy store so we could go in and have an ice cream treat at the fountain.

The inside took you back forty to fifty years, as the floor was that tiny tile that was used in the old Walgreen stores that I've seen pictures of. This place might even have been one of those stores. We each had a small sundae and listened to the local people. We didn't say anything to call attention to ourselves, and left a small tip with the money for the treat.

As we were getting ready to leave the store, I pulled my cell phone and pushed the button that would take pictures. As we stepped outside, I held the phone up to my ear but with the back of the phone pointed at the store with the blacked out windows. I took a bunch of pictures and wished that we had a reason to get a search warrant.

I told Lisa, "Let's go across the street toward the corner with the funny looking building and go back that way. I want to see what I feel as we go by."

Just walking closer to the building made my stomach begin to move around. It wasn't feeling sick, but apprehension. We stood on the corner for a second, as I took my cell phone out and began taking pictures while I acted like I was having a conversation.

Lisa elbowed me and slightly nodded toward the side of the building. Son of gun, that looked like the man in the drawings at the station. I was turned so my ear was toward the guy and snapped off several more pictures. Lisa watched intently to see where the guy went.

I said, "Let's stroll along with him."

As we passed a trash barrel, I reached down into it to pull a classified ad section that was thrown in there. I folded it around to the apartments for rent section as we followed the man at a slow pace acting like we checking the ads. He wasn't moving fast, but did turn to check us out a couple of times. I saw him step into a doorway and you could see he was waiting for us to walk by. I acted like I was pointing to an ad as we began passing the guy, but lunged at him, knocking him down and securing his hands behind him. Lisa pulled out a set of cuffs from her bag and cuffed him. We pushed him back into the doorway of the empty building. I called the station to get the cell phone of the van driver and deputy.

I called the van and told them we were just north of the intersection two blocks east where the candy store was. When they pulled up, I motioned for them to open the side door. The two deputies had a shocked look on their face, but did open the door. Lisa checked the street as we pushed the guy across the sidewalk into the van.

So far, the man had not said a word, except grunting when I lunged at him. I had knocked the wind out of him at the time, but he had plenty of time to recover by now. I asked Lisa. "Show us the door he came out of."

We went up the street to where there was what looked like an apartment entrance. I asked the deputies, "How hard is it to get a search warrant this time of day?"

"No sweat; call the chief and he'll get one from one of the judges downstairs."

I called the station and told the chief we had the suspect and I wanted some backup, as well as the search warrant. He told me, "Fifteen minutes, we'll be there in fifteen minutes. I'll alert our forensics guys and the ATF bomb guys. Let me run."

I tried to question the guy, but he wouldn't give anything up. Lisa and I turned his pockets inside out and checked his waist, crotch, and ankles. The guy was really surprised that we took his necklace, along with his shoes. I checked his watch and took it off as well. It was a plain Timex, but who knows what may be in there. Lisa ran her hand through his hair while I looked at his eyebrows real good. I said, "It doesn't look like he has any tracking devices on him, but they could be in his shoes or clothes. Let's stay right here, but you," I indicated to the deputy riding with us, "Go around to the back of the building just to be sure that when we go in, someone doesn't go out the other side. Watch yourself, do you have armor on?"

The guy patted his chest and smiled as he got out of the older passenger van.

I kept up the barrage of interrogation questions, watching the guy's eyes for recognition or an attempt to hide something. The only thing I kept seeing was when I asked if he was with someone, his eyes would look away. He was giving me "tells," just as in the surveillance training videos I watched so long ago.

Three federal cars pulled up behind and across the street from us. I asked for and received a set of chains to further secure the guy so he couldn't kick his way from the van. I said to the Station Chief, "I think there is someone in his apartment. The key is marked 202, so it will be at least up one flight of stairs. Let Lisa and me go up quietly so we don't sound like a herd of buffalo. I'll signal you what door and when I try the key, Lisa will signal you to come up. Let's do this smart so no one gets hurt."

Lisa and I went up the old stairs without making a sound. No creaking, no footfalls, just a whisper as we slid each foot onto a stair. 202 was just to the right at the top of the stairs. I signaled Lisa and slid the key into the lock as quietly as possible, and tried to turn it. I pulled my Glock and nodded to Lisa again. She waved at the men below, and I turned the key the rest of the way and pushed the door open.

Lisa was instantly beside me as we confronted three surprised men and two women. Their eyes were as big as half dollars. They were all sitting on the floor with what looked like detonators in a jar and some of that horrible explosive shaped into balls. I said, "Don't move or twitch or I will shoot you. That is a promise. Don't move any part of your body."

The Station Chief came through the door with a deputy and a guy with an ATF hat. I said, "Pull each one of these people out of here carefully and cuff them. You," I pointed to the deputy, "Clear the rest of the apartment."

I told the ATF guy, "That explosive is not very stable, but the jar full of detonators has my attention. If you clear the place quickly, we won't have to evacuate the building and buildings around here. Can you do it?"

The guy said, "I have a containment unit with us. Let me get it and separate the detonators from the explosives. If you don't mind, put all of the explosives in that box. I'll be right back." I heard the ATF guy calling for backup on the way down the stairs.

There was a commotion coming from the back of the apartment. I heard the thud of someone being hit by something. Lisa and I were through the door in a heartbeat to find another suspect on the floor with the deputy holding his gun on him. He said, "How about that, I didn't even have to shoot him. One good whack on the head with that bed post, and he's down for the count."

He cuffed the guy who was out cold before pulling him up in a sitting position. The guy began groaning about his head hurting, but that had no bearing on what we were doing at the time. I went back into the living room area and gently put all of the explosives into the box. There were several descriptions of how to make a bomb that had been printed out, now lying on the floor where the people had been sitting. An ATF guy I didn't recognize came in, showed me his ID and said he was there for the detonators first. I watched him carefully lay them on individual pieces of bubble wrap and place them gently into a box he had with him. I motioned for Lisa to go with him, as the ATF guy came in with two men behind him carrying a very heavy container.

These guys put the box of explosives into the container without breathing. When the heavy lid was closed and locked, you could see all three of them take a breath. As soon as they left, a whole crew of men with CSI caps wearing surgical gloves came in. The lead guy asked, "You touch anything?

I told them, "Only the explosives and detonators. Those are in the ATF containment unit. If you need to analyze it, get it from them. Be careful with those detonators, as they look old and cheap. They are probably Czech."

The deputy with the stunned captive came out of the back with his prisoner, and was confronted by the lead forensic guy, "You touch anything?"