Protectors of the Innocent - Chapter 9 (Part 2)
An action romance.
Back at his apartment, Matt showered and stuffed a sandwich in the microwave oven. He refused to think what the network would do to June should they get hold of the files. Rather concentrate on finding out what the network wanted to hide.
Spilling the contents of the files over his dinner table, Matt's thoughts strayed to the small frame of the Commissioner. If the network were true to form, they'll keep her alive until they have the files. The alternative didn’t bear thinking about.
His mind ran through the scenarios if the network managed to get her to reveal the location of the files. If they really pulled out all the stops, she didn't have a chance. It might be a good idea to watch the grave to see if anyone came to retrieve the dockets. A quick call later and several men were in place around Mica's grave.
Matt placed the files in order on the table. He needed to see what the Network wanted to hide and why they thought June could find something in the files. One by one he opened the files and spread them out next to each other. All the files were sorted in the same order and he took page for page. Frowning Matt looked at the Form 4 placements, but he couldn’t see anything that jumped out from the page. Next he took the social worker's preliminary reports, but again, nothing stood out...until he noticed the identity of the social worker in all the files.
Aziz Yarundar. Matt racked his brains for the information he sought. Why had they looked into this man? He must have some connection that caused the members of the unit to investigate him, but dismiss him after a while. The surname sounded too familiar not to be in his notes.
Matt scanned his notes from the earlier investigations. Yes, Aziz was married to June White's assistant, Janet. Janet had been the Children's Court assistant now for four years. Which was just about the time the specialized investigation unit got wind of the activities of the Network in South Africa.
He carefully perused the files further, but couldn’t find any other common denominator in the documents. At least he now had a tree to bark at. Matt phoned Kevin and arranged to them to meet after Matt returned from Namibia. For the first time in years, Matt had a little hope that they might be able to stop the cruel workings of the Network.
At four Matt boarded a small plane arranged by Kevin. They refueled at Upington and proceeded into Namibia. The dunes of the Namib desert formed a red sea below the wings of the small plane. Here and there tracks of animals lined the massive dunes and no vehicle tracks disturbed the smooth surface. Heat waves dances in the distance despite the lateness of the hour. For once, the stark beauty of the Namibian landscape was lost on Matt.
By six thirty daylight started to fade and Walvisbay appeared in the distance. Upon landing, the vehicle he arranged had not yet arrived and Matt paced the small hanger while his temper simmered. Darkness cloaked the desert landscape as Matt finally drove off into the night.
He raced along the tar road and at the turnoff to the main road leading to Windhoek, he slowed down just enough to negotiate the turn. He found the track five kilometers further. Red warning signs discouraged visitors from entering the restricted diamond area. Matt ignored the warning and hurried down the track.
Heavy corrugations and thick sand bogged the tires down and slowed his progress. He switched off the headlights and crept along the road. An hour later Matt hit the steering wheel in frustration.
"Damn it. Where is the bloody turnoff?" he muttered to himself.
After a slow u-turn he back-tracked until the GPS indicated the main road was just ahead. Matt stopped, turned on the courtesy light and checked the co-ordinates again.
From the condition of the road when he first entered it, he knew if this was the correct place, the backup team hadn't arrived yet. The only tracks on the road were his. The other tracks were at least a couple of hours old, if not days. He turned back on the road, creeping forward, looking for any signs of vehicles leaving the road.
Forty minutes later he found the exit, well hidden with grass lining the side of the track. Only the old tracks turning slightly to the side of the road, indicated that a vehicle drove over the little hump lining the gravel track. The previous driver took great care in hiding his exit.
Matt's heart pounded. Alighting from the car he tucked the satellite phone into his belt, shoved an extra clip into his holster and stalked through the few brushes along the track. No need to advertise his presence.
A corrugated iron warehouse blocked out what little light the moon provided. No lights shone through the small upper windows and nothing moved. Matt crept closer, crouching down low. A brass handle shone in the moonlight when he plastered himself against the wall. Still no movement. He stepped forward... and all hell broke loose.
Light flooded the area. Matt fell to the ground. A bullet ricocheted off the wall behind him. He crawled back to the shadows while further shots kicked sand into his face. How the hell could they still see him?
Judging from the direction of the fire, there had to be at least two shooters. Hidden in the darkness of the building once more, Matt got up and ran to the other corner. For the time being, this corner was dark.
What took the backup team so long? Matt peeked around the corner. Silence. He crept around the corner only to jump back when the lights came on followed by shots pinging the wall too close for comfort. He had to get rid of the lights. Matt dropped to his knees and carefully put his head around the corner. The lights hung against the building at an angle preventing him from shooting from where he was. He used the shadows against the wall to slip around the corner. On his stomach, he leopard crawled until under the one floodlight. He needed to move once he made the shot otherwise he would be an easy target for whoever watched this side of the building.
Crouching, he fired a shot. The light exploded with a burst of glass. As he ran deeper into the shadows against the building, shots rang out and ricocheted a few meters from him. Good. They couldn’t see him.
Taking care to stay in the deep shadows, Matt ran to the opposite corner. Three meters away a door stood open. A movement at the edge of the light caught his eye. There. A sentry with his body turned towards the open door. The other one had to be rounding the building behind him. Matt took aim. The shot thundered in his ears and the sentry dropped to the ground. Footsteps rang out behind him. Matt fired as he turned around. The man's eyes grew wide, he dropped the gun and grabbed his throat to stop the blood from spurting out. Matt raced to the open door. He put his head around the door pulling back immediately. Silence. Kneeling, he peeked inside again. Empty.
Matt slipped through the door and plastered himself against the wall, waiting for any sound of life. Inside, four steel panels stood upright in the center of the room. Pulleys hung from the ceiling, keeping the panels upright. Several rails criss - crossed the floor and the sweet scent of chloroform permeated the air. He followed the hoses leading from the panels to a glass-fronted control room close to the roof. A water hose led from one panel to a large pump and container in the corner.
Except for the panels and the container the warehouse was bare. Nothing indicated recent occupation and if it wasn't for the sentries outside, he would've thought he had been mistaken.
A vehicle approached at high speed and Matt dove behind the tank. He rolled into a defensive position and waited. The vehicle came to a sliding stop next to the door. Men in combat gear and bulletproof vests entered the building in standard penetrating procedure.
Matt shouted as he got up from behind the tank. "Stand down. They are gone." He walked out from behind the tank, keeping his hands and pistol in the air.
"I'm Captain Ferreira and you're late."
"Stand down." The order came from somewhere in the middle of the bunch of men.
A tall gray haired man stepped towards Matt. He stopped with his face inches from Matt's, furiously working the gum in his cheek.
"You're the guy from Spes Unit that shook us out of our weekend off?" Matt measured his chances if this was a trap. Fuck, with eight assault rifles aimed at his head, he had none. Might as well go down blazing then. He lowered his hands and imitated the other man's stance.
"Yes. Do you have a forensic team with you?" Matt held the man's eyes.
"They are right behind us. Should be here any minute." The man turned on his heels and with a swipe of his arm he hoarded his men outside. As the last man walked through the door another vehicle pulled up.
Matt hurried outside. The forensic inspectors wasted no time in introducing themselves and their white suits filed past Matt. Alien - looking equipment beeped as the forensic team swung the machines over the floor and walls of the warehouse.
He walked outside. He would know soon enough if they find anything. Cool night air washed over Matt and he tilted his head back. Stars twinkled down at him.
"Where are you June?" He whispered in the silence.
Three hours later one of the forensic investigators tapped Matt on his shoulder. Matt slid back up against the wall and dragged a hand across his eyes. "Yeah?"
"We found some hair. It is consistent with the hair of the missing woman, but we won't know for sure until we put it under the microscope."
"Where in the chamber did you find it?"
The man stared at him in silence, frowned and continued. "Are you clairvoyant? We found it clinging to the roof of the chamber. It seems it got stuck there when the chamber was flooded."
"O God! She was inside when they flooded it?"
"It appears that way. We also found a steel gurney at the back of the shed. Seems like someone was strapped to it recently. We are still trying to extract fibers and other evidence. I'll keep you informed." With that the man turned around and hurried back inside.
They had moved her. Matt refused to think of the other alternative. He hurried back to his vehicle.
The plane waited on the runway and the pilot had no objection to depart immediately. As the sun turned the horizon orange, the red dunes once again fell away under the wings of the plane.
Spilling the contents of the files over his dinner table, Matt's thoughts strayed to the small frame of the Commissioner. If the network were true to form, they'll keep her alive until they have the files. The alternative didn’t bear thinking about.
His mind ran through the scenarios if the network managed to get her to reveal the location of the files. If they really pulled out all the stops, she didn't have a chance. It might be a good idea to watch the grave to see if anyone came to retrieve the dockets. A quick call later and several men were in place around Mica's grave.
Matt placed the files in order on the table. He needed to see what the Network wanted to hide and why they thought June could find something in the files. One by one he opened the files and spread them out next to each other. All the files were sorted in the same order and he took page for page. Frowning Matt looked at the Form 4 placements, but he couldn’t see anything that jumped out from the page. Next he took the social worker's preliminary reports, but again, nothing stood out...until he noticed the identity of the social worker in all the files.
Aziz Yarundar. Matt racked his brains for the information he sought. Why had they looked into this man? He must have some connection that caused the members of the unit to investigate him, but dismiss him after a while. The surname sounded too familiar not to be in his notes.
Matt scanned his notes from the earlier investigations. Yes, Aziz was married to June White's assistant, Janet. Janet had been the Children's Court assistant now for four years. Which was just about the time the specialized investigation unit got wind of the activities of the Network in South Africa.
He carefully perused the files further, but couldn’t find any other common denominator in the documents. At least he now had a tree to bark at. Matt phoned Kevin and arranged to them to meet after Matt returned from Namibia. For the first time in years, Matt had a little hope that they might be able to stop the cruel workings of the Network.
At four Matt boarded a small plane arranged by Kevin. They refueled at Upington and proceeded into Namibia. The dunes of the Namib desert formed a red sea below the wings of the small plane. Here and there tracks of animals lined the massive dunes and no vehicle tracks disturbed the smooth surface. Heat waves dances in the distance despite the lateness of the hour. For once, the stark beauty of the Namibian landscape was lost on Matt.
By six thirty daylight started to fade and Walvisbay appeared in the distance. Upon landing, the vehicle he arranged had not yet arrived and Matt paced the small hanger while his temper simmered. Darkness cloaked the desert landscape as Matt finally drove off into the night.
He raced along the tar road and at the turnoff to the main road leading to Windhoek, he slowed down just enough to negotiate the turn. He found the track five kilometers further. Red warning signs discouraged visitors from entering the restricted diamond area. Matt ignored the warning and hurried down the track.
Heavy corrugations and thick sand bogged the tires down and slowed his progress. He switched off the headlights and crept along the road. An hour later Matt hit the steering wheel in frustration.
"Damn it. Where is the bloody turnoff?" he muttered to himself.
After a slow u-turn he back-tracked until the GPS indicated the main road was just ahead. Matt stopped, turned on the courtesy light and checked the co-ordinates again.
From the condition of the road when he first entered it, he knew if this was the correct place, the backup team hadn't arrived yet. The only tracks on the road were his. The other tracks were at least a couple of hours old, if not days. He turned back on the road, creeping forward, looking for any signs of vehicles leaving the road.
Forty minutes later he found the exit, well hidden with grass lining the side of the track. Only the old tracks turning slightly to the side of the road, indicated that a vehicle drove over the little hump lining the gravel track. The previous driver took great care in hiding his exit.
Matt's heart pounded. Alighting from the car he tucked the satellite phone into his belt, shoved an extra clip into his holster and stalked through the few brushes along the track. No need to advertise his presence.
A corrugated iron warehouse blocked out what little light the moon provided. No lights shone through the small upper windows and nothing moved. Matt crept closer, crouching down low. A brass handle shone in the moonlight when he plastered himself against the wall. Still no movement. He stepped forward... and all hell broke loose.
Light flooded the area. Matt fell to the ground. A bullet ricocheted off the wall behind him. He crawled back to the shadows while further shots kicked sand into his face. How the hell could they still see him?
Judging from the direction of the fire, there had to be at least two shooters. Hidden in the darkness of the building once more, Matt got up and ran to the other corner. For the time being, this corner was dark.
What took the backup team so long? Matt peeked around the corner. Silence. He crept around the corner only to jump back when the lights came on followed by shots pinging the wall too close for comfort. He had to get rid of the lights. Matt dropped to his knees and carefully put his head around the corner. The lights hung against the building at an angle preventing him from shooting from where he was. He used the shadows against the wall to slip around the corner. On his stomach, he leopard crawled until under the one floodlight. He needed to move once he made the shot otherwise he would be an easy target for whoever watched this side of the building.
Crouching, he fired a shot. The light exploded with a burst of glass. As he ran deeper into the shadows against the building, shots rang out and ricocheted a few meters from him. Good. They couldn’t see him.
Taking care to stay in the deep shadows, Matt ran to the opposite corner. Three meters away a door stood open. A movement at the edge of the light caught his eye. There. A sentry with his body turned towards the open door. The other one had to be rounding the building behind him. Matt took aim. The shot thundered in his ears and the sentry dropped to the ground. Footsteps rang out behind him. Matt fired as he turned around. The man's eyes grew wide, he dropped the gun and grabbed his throat to stop the blood from spurting out. Matt raced to the open door. He put his head around the door pulling back immediately. Silence. Kneeling, he peeked inside again. Empty.
Matt slipped through the door and plastered himself against the wall, waiting for any sound of life. Inside, four steel panels stood upright in the center of the room. Pulleys hung from the ceiling, keeping the panels upright. Several rails criss - crossed the floor and the sweet scent of chloroform permeated the air. He followed the hoses leading from the panels to a glass-fronted control room close to the roof. A water hose led from one panel to a large pump and container in the corner.
Except for the panels and the container the warehouse was bare. Nothing indicated recent occupation and if it wasn't for the sentries outside, he would've thought he had been mistaken.
A vehicle approached at high speed and Matt dove behind the tank. He rolled into a defensive position and waited. The vehicle came to a sliding stop next to the door. Men in combat gear and bulletproof vests entered the building in standard penetrating procedure.
Matt shouted as he got up from behind the tank. "Stand down. They are gone." He walked out from behind the tank, keeping his hands and pistol in the air.
"I'm Captain Ferreira and you're late."
"Stand down." The order came from somewhere in the middle of the bunch of men.
A tall gray haired man stepped towards Matt. He stopped with his face inches from Matt's, furiously working the gum in his cheek.
"You're the guy from Spes Unit that shook us out of our weekend off?" Matt measured his chances if this was a trap. Fuck, with eight assault rifles aimed at his head, he had none. Might as well go down blazing then. He lowered his hands and imitated the other man's stance.
"Yes. Do you have a forensic team with you?" Matt held the man's eyes.
"They are right behind us. Should be here any minute." The man turned on his heels and with a swipe of his arm he hoarded his men outside. As the last man walked through the door another vehicle pulled up.
Matt hurried outside. The forensic inspectors wasted no time in introducing themselves and their white suits filed past Matt. Alien - looking equipment beeped as the forensic team swung the machines over the floor and walls of the warehouse.
He walked outside. He would know soon enough if they find anything. Cool night air washed over Matt and he tilted his head back. Stars twinkled down at him.
"Where are you June?" He whispered in the silence.
Three hours later one of the forensic investigators tapped Matt on his shoulder. Matt slid back up against the wall and dragged a hand across his eyes. "Yeah?"
"We found some hair. It is consistent with the hair of the missing woman, but we won't know for sure until we put it under the microscope."
"Where in the chamber did you find it?"
The man stared at him in silence, frowned and continued. "Are you clairvoyant? We found it clinging to the roof of the chamber. It seems it got stuck there when the chamber was flooded."
"O God! She was inside when they flooded it?"
"It appears that way. We also found a steel gurney at the back of the shed. Seems like someone was strapped to it recently. We are still trying to extract fibers and other evidence. I'll keep you informed." With that the man turned around and hurried back inside.
They had moved her. Matt refused to think of the other alternative. He hurried back to his vehicle.
The plane waited on the runway and the pilot had no objection to depart immediately. As the sun turned the horizon orange, the red dunes once again fell away under the wings of the plane.
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