No Solution - Chapter 5
SRU HEADQUARTERS
Word of Constable Jules Callaghan's abduction spread quickly but quietly through the department.
A thorough canvassing of her entire neighbourhood was underway, though no one remembered seeing or hearing anything suspicious.
Five members of Team Three had already assembled at headquarters after being summoned there. This particular Friday was supposed to be a day off in their schedule, but they were now on stand-by mode due to the heightened threat level stemming from the potential multiple bomb scares.
While they waited for action, they gathered in the weight room, watching television. A sudden news bulletin interrupted the program they'd been viewing.
They stared in disbelief as the anchorwoman announced that they'd just been sent some disturbing footage from an anonymous source claiming responsibility for the spate of bomb scares.
"What you are about to see was sent as a video attachment in an e-mail to one of our producers here at CJYT,"the grave-faced newscaster said. The scene cut from the news desk to the alleged footage.
The grainy image revealed little in the way of details. A shadowy figure appeared in a darkened room and started speaking in a low, accented tone.
"We claim responsibility for the multiple bomb threats that have happened over the last twenty-four hours. There will be more if the police do not cooperate. We demand justice for the murder of Oscar Cardoza. You will hand over to us the person responsible for this heinous crime. You will also publicly admit your error in this wrongful death, or there will be devastating consequences."
The members of Team Three stood riveted to what was unfolding on the TV screen.
The scene switched to show a still, digital photo of another figure, seated, blindfolded and bound to a wooden chair; mouth taped shut.
"That's Jules Callaghan!" one member of Team Three named Bobby Drake cried out in recognition.
Shaky footage followed. The quality was poor, and showed a crowded downtown street, with two figures clad in black SRU uniforms motioning for the people to move away and disburse.
"That looks like constables Braddock and Callaghan," Team Three Sergeant Nate Hanson observed. He was a tall man, square-jawed, with a crew-cut and an impressive build.
"And they're on Queen. That's gotta be from yesterday's bomb scare," Bobby Drake put in. The most junior member of the team, he was still extremely observant and full of boundless energy.
The scene flipped back to the man in shadows.
"You have just seen a member of the Strategic Response Unit. She is currently in our custody. This is a reminder to police that she will be killed unless all our demands are met by six PM."
There, the video ended. After a pause, the broadcast returned to the news desk. The reporter idly shuffled the papers in front of her, then ad-libbed:
"We have no official reports from police at this time about any missing officers, or any news of any other group claiming responsibility for the bomb threats. So as it stands, we have been unable to confirm with authorities the veracity of what you have just seen, but we will be following this story as it develops...This is Sally Sinclair, reporting from the CJYT news desk. We now return you to your regularly-scheduled program."
Stupefied, the members of Team Three wondered what to make of what they'd just seen.
"Idiots," Nate Hanson said angrily. "Who the hell gave them permission to run that footage? This is going to create mass panic. I swear, those news vultures are the most irresponsible, stupid, and callous people on the planet!"
"Who the hell is Oscar Cardoza?" Bobby Drake queried.
"I know," a voice spoke up.
Drake, Hanson, and the other Team Three constables turned to look at the new arrival.
"Hey, Sabine," Drake greeted the latest addition to his team, Donna Sabine. "You seriously knew that Cardoza character?"
"Yes," she replied grimly. "I'm the one that killed him."
"Ho-ly!" Bobby Drake exclaimed, eyes wide.
"And now," Donna said soberly, "those bastards want to kill Jules Callaghan because of what I've done."
MOBILE COMMAND POST
Greg's head was spinning. Hearing Jules' voice had alleviated his initial fears that she might already be dead, but he knew with certainty that if they didn't resolve this mess by six PM, they'd never again hear her voice.
Oscar Cardoza! He's the scum we took down a few weeks ago at the Viper nightclub on Wellington and John...
Greg looked up and saw his colleagues waiting for his instructions in expectant silence. Behind their exterior expressions of calm, Greg knew by the taut lines of mouth and clenched jaws that they were anxious, angry and worried.
"Greg..." Ed said, breaking the sombre mood. "This is bad."
"Yeah, Eddie," Greg answered. "They're out for revenge."
"But Jules had nothing to do with what happened to Oscar Cardoza," Sam protested.
"I know, Sam," Greg said, remembering that it had been former Team One member Donna Sabine to pull the trigger on the gang member.
"So all that crap about the Parkdale bust... this has nothing to do with drugs and Los Reyes," Lou added, "but with Huesos de Tigres getting even."
Greg nodded. Several members of the gang had been apprehended when Team One had mounted a rescue mission to save a seven months-pregnant woman. Oscar Cardoza had been on the verge of executing the woman when Constable Sabine had fired, killing him instantly.
"It's a new game now. They've moved up the deadline, so we have to act quickly. Lou, get talking with Guns and Gangs right away. We need the latest intel on Huesos de Tigres, and we need it now."
"You got it, Boss," Lou said.
"Spike," Greg turned to the tech expert, "we have to be prepared to meet that six PM deadline at that Trance nightclub, in case they really are holding Jules there. I need floorplans; ownership records; whatever details you can get."
"On it," Spike replied.
Greg's cell phone chimed. "Hi, Winnie," he answered. "You got something new for me?"
"Sergeant, a local news station has just aired some really disturbing footage..."
Greg listened with growing discomfort as the dispatcher detailed the contents of the broadcast.
"You're sure they had shots of Sam and Jules from yesterday?" Greg asked, after hearing what Winnie had to say.
"Affirmative," Winnie replied. "That particular segment looked to me like it was probably shot using a cheap camera phone. It was barely 15 seconds long, but it was definitely Sam and Jules."
"Thanks for the info, Winnie," Greg said, and hung up. "Did you hear that, Eddie? Our scumbags were watching us and recording our actions yesterday at Spadina and Queen."
Ed nodded, a scowl forming on his face as he assimilated this knowledge.
"That's how they were able to grab Jules," Sam reasoned. "They were watching us all along. Probably followed her home at the end of shift and waited for her to be alone."
"And she was a just convenient hostage?" Greg asked the question aloud. Something was still bothering him about that scenario. "It's what we've been asking ourselves from the beginning: why Jules? Why not grab a random civilian? We'd have responded to any threat involving anyone they'd grabbed."
"Because she's a cop?" Sam postulated. "I mean, we tell ourselves we'd treat every case the same, whether it's one of us, or a civilian, but it's not true. We do treat a case differently if it's one of our own. It's the same with the Armed Forces. The bond is greater with your buddies than with a non-combatant."
"I don't want to play the gender card here, but Jules is a woman," Wordy offered tactfully. "Psychologically speaking, she makes an easier, more appealing target."
Greg felt an uncomfortable stirring in the pit of his stomach. He felt as if the answer as to why Jules had been targeted was there, just beyond his reach; elusive. But instead of finding the answer, he was floundering around in the dark.
"Our hostage-takers had to have known we'd never give up those drugs, and we're not exposing Donna Sabine to those crazies," Ed said. "They've made an impossible demand, and they know it. What do they stand to gain by any of this?"
"Embarrassing us, for one thing," Greg replied. "A life for a life? We killed Cardoza, so they kill one of us?"
"If that's the kind of message they want to send, they'd have killed Jules by now," Ed commented, offering the silent hope that his team member was still among the living.
"Do you think they know Donna's the one that killed Cardoza?" Wordy asked.
Greg turned a stern eye towards the larger man. "I hope not. I mean, this is the whole reason our names are kept out of press releases when something like that happens: to prevent retribution."
"Sure didn't help in Ed's case," Sam observed drily.
Ed Lane's brow creased, and his mouth tightened at the memory of the young man who'd sought to avenge his father's death, for which Ed had been responsible. He tried not to show his annoyance that Sam had dredged up all the unpleasant memories for him, and had to remind himself he owed the former Special Forces soldier his life. However, Ed still carried the guilt that Jules had nearly died when Petar shot her, and knew he would carry it for a long time to come.
Wordy was shaking his head. "Where's it going to end? Are we always going to be worried some nut case is going to want to get back at us when we do our jobs?!"
Greg sent Wordy a sympathetic look. "We're going to get Jules back," he said forcefully. "I'm going to recommend that Team Three lay low. These creeps have obviously been watching us. They could still be watching. If they somehow found out Donna was involved with Cardoza's death, I'm not risking putting her and her team in harm's way."
"Boss," Lou interrupted, "I've got something for you."
"Go ahead, Lou." Greg said.
"First of all, we got a hit on the picture Wordy sent out. Guns and Gangs identified him as one Luis Marquez, and he's a known member of Huesos de Tigres. Guns also told us that another member, named Reynaldo Villalobos, made bail today."
"Today!" Greg exclaimed.
"He was one of the punks we arrested at the Viper. That's just great," Ed said, voice full of sarcasm. "We pick 'em up, and the damn lawyers get 'em back out again."
"They've issued an APB for Marquez," Lou continued, "and they're going to try to track down Villalobos, too. 'Wanted for Questioning'."
"Well, Villalobos can't have gone too far, I hope," Greg said optimistically.
"That's not all," Lou said. "Inspector Chevalier said that from what they've been able to determine, after Oscar Cardoza died, the remaining members of Huesos de Tigres that we didn't round up that day at the Viper have picked up where they left off, and apparently under new leadership."
"Yeah... 'new leadership' that wants to settle a score," was Greg's glum reply.
"Sarge, I've got something for you, too," Spike spoke up in his usual hurried fashion. "I've traced ownership of the Trance nightclub to what I'm willing to bet is a dummy corporation. Owners actually filed tax returns to keep it legit on paper, but the business hasn't been running for months. I checked other records and found that the building had been closed by the city because it wasn't up to code."
"Yeah, these gangs try to appear to be legitimate businesses. It's how they launder their money," Greg said matter-of-factly. "They'll pay their business taxes, and keep fancy lawyers on retainer...probably how that Villalobos guy made bail."
"The Trance is in a pretty rough neighborhood," Spike continued. "Perfect place to hide a kidnapped constable. If we move in on them, we'd need to be full-on stealth approach for sure. It's enemy territory, and we'd stick out like a sore thumb."
"Duly noted," Greg said. "Gentlemen, I think it's time to work on a plan of attack."
Jules was fighting exhaustion and a wicked headache that she knew was due to hunger, coupled with the blow she'd received to the back of her head.
She'd once again been left alone after relaying the message to Greg on the phone. Her captors had left for God knew where, and Jules wondered if and when they'd return.
Elena had stretched a new piece of duct tape across Jules' mouth before she'd left, adding to her discomfort.
Hearing the concern in Greg's voice was both a source of comfort and torment. He was worried for her life, and Jules knew it. She hated that her present predicament was causing her team to suffer. For her own sake, though, she knew that she couldn't allow herself to slip into despair. Greg's words echoed in her mind, especially the ones assuring her that everything would be okay, and that they wouldn't allow her to die. She focused on that, hoping that her friend was right.
She presently heard several approaching footfalls. The overhead light snapped on, and Jules again squinted at the brightness.
Elena was back with Reynaldo, and two others. One of the latter two had a large, ugly bandage plastered over his nose. He was sending dark looks in Jules' direction.
You must be the one whose nose I broke earlier today, Jules thought. She felt a small spark of satisfaction that she really had broken it; that she'd put up a pretty good fight against the overwhelming odds.
Then something else caught Jules' eye that made her breath catch in her throat.
Reynaldo and the other man whose name she didn't know, were carrying an object that Jules instantly identified as a bomb. It was crude-looking, but from the components that were visible, she knew it was no mere smoke bomb.
The two men set it down in one of the corners on the concrete floor, while Elena sidled up beside her. Jules bristled at the presence of the other woman.
"As you can see," Elena started to say, "we have brought something down here to keep you company. While I am now quite convinced you had nothing to do with the murder of Oscar Cardoza, you are still guilty by association, as are all your police friends. You will die, Jules Callaghan, along with the rest of them when they arrive to 'rescue' you."
Elena squeezed Jules' shoulder, and then made for the door. The young man with the bandaged nose hesitated, and remained where he was, still staring at Jules.
"Enrique," Elena barked, "vamos!"
Enrique made what sounded like a verbal protest in Spanish. Elena looked between him and Jules, then merely gave a curt nod in reply. She left the small room with Reynaldo and the other unnamed man close behind.
The young man with the broken nose, whom Jules now knew was named 'Enrique', grinned broadly. It was the type of grin, however, that struck a chord of panic in Jules. She saw him flex his hands open and closed a few times. Then Enrique balled his right hand into a tight fist, approached Jules, and without warning, struck her squarely in the face.
A disconcerting, crunching sound met her ears. Instant and involuntary tears coursed down her cheeks. From the sudden, terrible flush of pain she was experiencing, Jules was quite sure Enrique had just exacted a reprisal. She barely heard his retreating footsteps, so focused was she on how much she was hurting.
He broke my nose! Jules thought in shock and anger. She could feel a bloody discharge streaming from her nostrils. Jules forced herself to take slow, careful breaths, willing herself to calm down and mentally block the pain.
Her chest was starting to ache as her oxygen-starved lungs screamed for a deeper intake of air, but Jules knew she couldn't risk it. With her mouth still taped shut, she knew that she'd have to rely on her damaged nose until she was rescued. She only prayed that her sinuses wouldn't swell shut, or that too much blood would clot, sealing off her nostrils. Every attempted breath was painful, and for a few tense moments, she was afraid she might aspirate on her own blood, or suffocate.
Eventually, the pain ebbed to a dull, throbbing ache. Her eyes dried, and the flow of blood from her nose petered out. She was thankful that the right side of her nasal passages somehow remained open and clear enough for a decent flow of air. Jules could feel the blood coagulating and crusting on her chin, and the itchy sensation was starting to irritate her.
She started wondering which she hated more: the pain of her broken nose, or an itch she was unable to scratch.
Then with a flash of terror, she remembered the bomb.
Luis Marquez was enjoying himself immensely. Hiding among the curious on-lookers, he was watching every move Team Four was making. One member was controlling a large, ungainly-looking robot. Luis decided this must be on older model compared to the one used by the team that handled the Union Station situation earlier in the day. That had really been one sleek piece of engineering and machinery. Luis silently wished he'd had more time to look at that one, but his boss had wanted him to move on to his present objective.
He knew the time had come, though, to put an end to it. Luis squeezed through several bodies that were closed in around him until he was free of them all. He walked for a few blocks, until he was sure he was completely out of sight of any prying eyes. From one of his pockets he removed a cell phone that was intended for one purpose only. He flipped it open, and dialed a sequence of numbers.
The awed reaction of the crowd reached his ears, and Luis knew that he'd just successfully set off his third smoke bomb. Even though he felt a high, Luis was disappointed he hadn't been allowed to use something with a little more 'kick' for this latest bomb.
His spirits picked up, though, as he remembered they were now approaching the final phase of their plan. It was time to return to the old Trance nightclub, where the real fireworks awaited.
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