Uh oh! The foot-tapping smiley! Hey, at least it wasn't the
Chapter 10—CountermeasureHoratio stepped forward in the reception area and extended his hand to Bud Roberts. “Lietenant Roberts. Welcome to the Miami-Dade Crime Lab. Thanks for coming down to help us out.”
Bud shook hands with him. “Sure, no problem. I knew you guys were short-handed. Besides, this way I get to see Miami.”
“I see Miss Stockburne fixed you up with a computer?”
Bud nodded and patted the black case. “I like to work with computers a little, so we had a lot to talk about. She even lent me a tool case so I can fix my own laptop. Dropped mine yesterday.”
“Yes, so I heard.” Horatio then glanced down the hallway. “Harm and Mac are waiting for us in the break room. I’m gonna introduce you to Detective Tripp, who’s been doing most of the work on the Schwender and Hennessey cases.”
Detective Frank Tripp was at his desk studying an old case. He glanced up to see a parade of white and brown military uniforms following Horatio, walking in his direction.
“Frank” Horatio said. “You know Commander Rabb and Lieutenant Colonel MacKenzie. I’d like to introduce Lieutenant Bud Roberts. He just arrived from DC, and he’s going to be helping us with the Internal Affairs side of things while Stetler is recovering.”
Bud stepped forward, his Navy hat under his arm, and held his hand out to Frank. Frank stood up and shook hands with him. “Hey.”
“Pleasure” Bud said.
Horatio dipped his head in thought. “Frank, Tyler ran another check on the hit list you and Delko seized from Meehan’s residence. There’s only one name on there that’s known to be in Miami right now.”
“That would be a Gerald English. Former Marine Corps JAG. He was the chief prosecutor in the Logan case. He’s at the Silver Palm now” Mac said. “Think you can do a welfare check on him?”
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Frank Tripp and Delko quietly followed the hotel manager through plush, quiet hallway in the Silver Palm. Each had his badge visible and one hand on his 9 millimeter.
“According to the logs and the security cameras, Mr. English hasn’t left his room since eleven last night.” The manager whispered. His eyes scanned the quiet hallway as he knocked on the door of Room 922. “Mr. English? Manager.”
Silence.
He knocked more loudly this time. “Mr. English?”
Silence.
The manager produced a card key and slid it into the door lock. The lock spun as both Frank and Delko silently drew their weapons and glanced at each other, standing back from the doorway. The manager knew to step back out of the way quickly as Frank opened the door. He and Delko crept in.
“Gerald English? Miami-Dade PD” Frank announced.
There were no sounds in the dark suite except their shoes patting on the plush blue carpet. Their hearts pounded. Delko resisted the urge to jump when the air conditioner clicked on.
Frank scanned the living room area. “Clear!”
Delko threw open the door of the bedroom suite and ducked back. He then held his 9 millimeter in position before slowly peering in and scanning. “Clear!”
Frank held his back to the bathroom doorway, his weapon up by his face. Quickly he spun and opened the door.
He stopped when he heard breathing and a scraping sound.
“Mr. English?”
On the floor he saw a brown shoe moving back and forth on the marble tile. Quickly he darted in to see Gerald English on his side on the blue marble floor. He was obviously in pain and disoriented. He had his eyes closed tightly and held his left hand over his neck.
“Hey! Delko! In here! Call rescue!”
Delko holstered his weapon and yanked out his cell phone while Frank knelt down by the brown-haired man. His terrified eyes looked up at Frank while he held his hand to his neck. He then closed his eyes and breathed hard.
“He just left” the man said in a strained whisper.
Frank’s eyes widened. “Hang on!” He darted through the suite and back out to the doorway where the manager waited expectantly.
“Call security! English is alive, and he said the guy was just here!”
The manager stiffened up and immediately pulled out his black radio. “Security, Code Alpha! All entrances and exits! Code Alpha! This is not a drill! Code Alpha!”
“Any other place that guy could hide? Rooftop stairs?”
The man shook his head. “They’re alarmed, Sir.”
“This guy could disarm them! Where’s your rooftop stairway?”
The manager pointed urgently down the hallway.
“Stay with him, Delko!” Frank ordered. He then immediately disappeared.
The man began to breathe more regularly, closing his eyes tightly as Delko kneeled over him.
“You’re gonna be all right now, Mr. English” he reassured. “We got an ambulance coming. Just breathe.”
The attorney slowly sat up while dipping his head. Blood came back to his head, and his ears rang. “God. That hurt.”
“You okay to sit up, Sir?” Delko wanted to know.
“Yeah.” He coughed, sweating and nursing his neck.
“Can you tell me what happened?”
He looked around cautiously while still holding his neck. “I ordered room service. Guy brought in my breakfast, so I opened the door. He was dressed like one of the waiters here, so I didn't pay any attention, I guess.” He panted and dipped his head, rubbing his jaw again. “I turned my head, and next thing I know, he was choking me.” The man now looked at Delko. “Don’t think he counted on me knowing how to fight back, though.”
“So you know why we’re here, don’t you?”
Gerald English nodded. “I’ve been out of the Corps, but I still read the JAG website. I know about Audrey and Judge Schwender.”
“We’re gonna have the medics check you out. Did you get a look at the guy?”
“Yeah. Huge blonde-haired guy. Never seen him before.
“And you thought he was one of the employees?”
“Uh huh. One other thing I noticed, though.”
“What.”
“It’s nine o’clock in the morning, and he smelled like cigars. Guy has to have one hell of a cigar habit to be smoking cigars that early.”
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The scratched white Ford pickup truck slowed to a stop behind the white delivery truck, well out of view of any parking lot surveillance cameras. A brown work boot stepped onto the sweltering black pavement.
At the same time, the driver of the plain white delivery truck stepped carefully to the leeward side, well away from prying eyes.
“You got ‘em?”
He reached into the cab of the truck and pulled out a plain brown box. “Yeah. In the sizes you wanted.”
He nodded. “Great. What about the maps?”
“In the box. On the bottom.”
“Nobody missed them?”
“Apparently not. These are copies.”
The man pulled open the flaps of the brown cardboard box and waded his hand down to the bottom. He didn’t really have time to make a thorough search. He nodded his head. “Great.” He then stuck his hand into his worn denim pocket and handed over a white envelope.
The delivery truck driver looked at him warily. “You sure nobody’s gonna know about this?”
“Not if you don’t say anything.” He put the cardboard box behind the seat and covered it with a brown tarp.
The young delivery driver pursed his lips anxiously. “Well, thanks.”
“See you in a few days.”
