Loose Ends (The Hammer Commission Book 3) Read online

  "Where's Denise?" Hope asked, "I haven't seen her since the party on Saturday."

  "I think Dave got her," Mark smirked.

  "What? Dave? You're kidding me! She's like four years older than him!"

  Mark shrugged, "Michael's like five years older than the girls, I don't see anyone worrying about that."

  Hope blushed, "Yeah, well, that's supposed to be okay."

  "Helena is older than me," Mark said, grinning.

  "But that's only two years!" Hope protested.

  "Uh-huh. Look, if anyone is gonna rein Dave in; it's going to be Denise. She's not shy and she's pretty tough."

  "What does Charity say?"

  "I don't know, haven't asked. I figure if it's important, she'll tell me. How's Clem doing?"

  "He says Europe is nice, but it's cold, and while the girls are all very friendly he hasn't met any female were's there yet."

  "Well, he said he wasn't looking to get married for a while," Mark pointed out.

  "I think he's just getting used to just how uncommon we are in most places. Dianne is thinking of joining him, if things work out okay there."

  Mark nodded; Dianne was always fairly independent and strong willed, whereas Clem was just stubborn as a mule.

  He spent a little more time catching up on his kids with her, before Michael came out, dressed and ready to go.

  He gave Hope a kiss and then went out and they got in the car and drove off.

  "So, where are we going?" Michael asked.

  "The company that rebuilt the jet engine that the tissue samples came out of."

  "Do we have a warrant?"

  "I don't think we'll need one," Mark said. "We just want to talk to whoever rebuilt the engine is all. Besides, if we have to tell a judge just why we need a warrant, well I don't know if that would go over all that well."

  "It would make it a lot easier on us," Michael pointed out. "How did you and your previous partner work it out?"

  Mark laughed, "Jake was very charismatic. He could talk anyone into pretty much anything, and often did. We had the whole 'good cop bad cop' routine down to a tee."

  "And you were the bad cop, I presume?"

  Mark nodded, "Of course, I'm an American, so in Europe they all just assumed I was a homicidal gun crazed maniac automatically. And the monsters, well they're used to reasoning with humans, so they knew as long as Jake was talking, I wouldn't be hurting them."

  "I'm surprised that they were that afraid of you. Are were's really that badass?"

  Mark shook his head, "It wasn't just being a were, thought that helped, so much as being a monster who worked for the authorities."

  "Why should that matter?"

  "Well, most monsters have a radically different view of how society works, it's all 'might makes right' and 'the strong survive'. They know, instinctively, that governments are strong and powerful. Because they've got all these people and things in them. You see, to a monster, there are only two things more powerful: a bigger monster, or a large group of monsters. That's what most of them believe."

  "So, governments are powerful, because they're made up of a large group of people?"

  "Exactly."

  "So it's all just a bluff then?"

  Mark shrugged, "They 'know' that a monster wouldn't willingly work for humans unless it was being compelled by a more powerful group or monster. So, unless they're completely evil or insane, or have no real intelligence to speak of, they're going to want to start off easy and feel you out.

  "If what you want isn't too big a deal for them, they'll most likely go along, after some poking and prodding and maybe a little bribery or some threats, rather than attract further attention. And if it comes down to a fight, well, we are pretty tough, and we're fast, and we're trained. A lot of monsters aren't trained beyond their natural ability, and most would rather try and get away, once they realize that they might lose."

  "That's a lot to think about," Michael admitted.

  "Well before you feel too sorry about it, think of all the poor guys out there who aren't monsters who have to face them down without any of those benefits."

  "Hey, I'm one of those guys!" Michael laughed.

  "Not for much longer though, I'm thinking. I hear it's down to just two of my daughters?"

  Michael blushed a little and sighed, "I guess you could say that. They're all really nice and all, but Jessica and Gail are a lot more my speed."

  "So which one are you setting your sights on?"

  "That's the problem! They're each into all of the same things as the other, so of course there is no easy way to decide! Plus I've known them for what? Two days? Kind of hard to make that kind of decision in such a short time. Hell, it's only been just the three of us since last night.

  "And that's not the worst of it," Michael sighed.

  "Oh?" Mark looked over at Michael for a second, he looked a little dejected.

  "It's obvious that they're best friends, and that I'm coming between them. I've already had words with them over it, told them that if they can't play nice together I'd kick both of their asses out and go sleep by myself. Last thing in the world that I want is to start a feud between the two of them. Told them they needed to get their priorities straight."

  Mark nodded, "I'll have a talk with them when we get back."

  "So, what's up with Denise?"

  Mark shrugged, "I haven't a clue."

  "Knowing her, she's probably holding your son at gunpoint and making him swear his undying love," Michael half-joked.

  "Hey, that's how his mom got me," Mark joked back.

  "Wow, just think she could end up your daughter-in-law! Think she'll call you dad around the office?"

  "I don't know," Mark turned and ginned at him, "Son."

  "Oh man, that was harsh!" Michael laughed.

  "Yeah well, she could end up in your sister-in-law as well."

  "Hey, no need to kick me while I'm down, Mark!" Michael joked back. "Damn, this is just going to be strange, and we haven't even gotten to the supernatural part yet."

  "At least I'm only on loan, so eventually I'll be able to escape it," Mark chuckled. "You however will be stuck working with your sister-in-law."

  The ride to the company that had rebuilt the engines took another half-hour or so, which Michael spent going over the rest of his emails on his laptop while Mark drove. The place was in one of the older industrial parks that were located near the airport. From the looks of the place, they had apparently been here for some time.

  "Well, let's go inside and see what they say," Michael said opening the car door and getting out.

  "Maybe we'll even get some answers," Mark said getting out of the car and following him.

  "Think so?"

  "Nah," Mark said. "It's never that easy."

  The door to the shop was a fairly heavy metal fire door with the name of the place stenciled on it. Opening it they went inside, they were in a small lobby with a teller like window with a button next to it and a door to their left.

  Michael pressed the button and a buzzer went off in the back someplace.

  After a minute, Michael leaned on the buzzer and just waited until someone showed up.

  "Hold your horses! I'm coming already!" An older woman said coming up to the window from the other side.

  She looked at the two of them, "What do you guys want?"

  "To talk to the owner," Michael said.

  "We don't do no fundraising here," she said.

  "This is a criminal investigation," Michael said pulling out his badge.

  "We don't talk to the police either," she replied.

  "Talk to us, or the FAA will be down here tomorrow to pull all your certs," Michael said holding his ID out for her to see. "We're the FBI and we don't play games."

  Mark almost laughed at the way her eyes got wide.

  "Now, would you be so kind as to let us in?" Mark asked.

  "Unnnn," she said looking back and forth.

  "Now," Mark growled, and the door
to their left buzzed suddenly and opening it, Mark led Michael as he went inside.

  "Chris!" the woman yelled out.

  "What? I'm busy!" A man's voice yelled from the back.

  "The FBI is here, and they want to talk with you!"

  "Dammit! What the hell trouble did Tommy get into this time?"

  Mark looked at Michael who shrugged, and then they both looked at the woman.

  "Tommy is his grandson, he's a free spirit," she offered with an embarrassed smile and a small shrug.

  A moment later a much older man, Mark would have guessed that he was in his seventies, came out of the back. He was dressed in work pants, and a heavy tan button up shirt. His hair was short, grey, and thinning.

  "What has my ass of a grandson done this time to get the FBI on my case?"

  "Actually, Sir," Michael started off, "this isn't about your grandson. I'm agent Michael Sykes, this is my partner, agent Mark Levin. We're investigating a problem surrounding a couple of engines that were rebuilt here."

  "Oh my god!" The old guy said, his face turning white, "There hasn't been an accident, has there?"

  "No, Sir," Mark said stepping up. "Right now, your company does not appear to be in trouble for anything; however, we do have some questions as to how these engines were handled, and who rebuilt them."

  "Oh, thank god," he said looking noticeably relieved. "Which engines are these? Do you have the serial numbers?"

  "These were the jet engines that where on the airliner that landed at Hill Air Force base in Utah," Mark said.

  "Oh, yeah, the one that flew through a flock of geese. That must have been some ride, losing both engines like that. Come on back to my office, I'll pull up the records."

  Mark and Michael both nodded and followed him back into the building, and into a large office that sported a large window looking out into the work area where there were at least a dozen people working on a number of large jet engines that were mounted on stands in three rows.

  "I like to keep an eye on things," the man said nodding to the window as he sat down behind his desk.

  "Sure thing, Mister...?" Michael prompted.

  "Kruze, Chris Kruze. With a K." he replied typing on the computer terminal there.

  "Ah, here they are. One of them was refurbished in just a couple of days; that one was worked on by Emily and Travis. The other one, that was a real mess, lost a couple of turbine blades. The whole motor was pretty badly chewed up, took over a week to fix that one, had to order a lot of parts. That one was Tommy, my grandson. Kid may be a pain in the ass, but he's one hell of a mechanic. I thought we weren't going to be able to fix that one ourselves."

  "So," Mark asked, "where can we find them? We need to interview all three of them."

  "Well Emily and Travis are right out there on the floor at stand six, rebuilding that Rolls-Royce. But Tommy hasn't been around in several weeks. Typical, he just hares off on something and doesn't bother to tell anyone where the hell he's off to!" Kruze grumbled.

  "Do you have his address?" Michael asked, pulling out a pad and pen.

  "Sure, he lives over on North East Stark. Has an apartment in a house there," and he rattled off the house and room number.

  "Did you notice anything special about the engines? Anything out of the ordinary?" Mark asked.

  "Let me look at the notes here," Kruze said, going through the files on his computer for a couple of minutes.

  "Ummm, the first engine just had some charred remains, but the second one still had some animal flesh in it. Quite a bit from the notes it seems. That one must have sucked up a few birds as it was still spinning down."

  Mark nodded, "Okay, thanks. We'll go talk to Emily and Travis and try to make it quick."

  "Sure," Kruze said, "Oh, and when you find my idiot grandson, tell him if he isn't going to come into work, he should at least call us up and let us know!"

  "We'll be sure to do that," Michael said, as they left the office.

  Mark waited until they were out on the shop floor, where it was a lot noisier and out of Kruze's earshot, "Sounds like Tommy is our guy."

  "Probably," Michael nodded.

  "Well, let's see what the other two have to say."

  Mark and Michael made their way over to the two mechanics, showing their badges and ID as they came up to them.

  "Hi, we're agents Levin and Sykes; we're from the FBI and have a few questions, if you have a minute?"

  "Yes?" the woman, Emily, asked turning to look at them.

  "The engine from the aircraft that landed in Utah after ingesting those birds, did you find anything strange in it?

  "Not really," Emily said shaking her head.

  "Other than a lack of feathers," Travis, the other guy said.

  "A lack of feathers?" Michael asked.

  Emily shrugged, and the guy nodded. "Usually we find a few in the engine, but we didn't find anything in that one."

  "What about the other one? The one that Tom repaired?" Mark asked.

  "Oh man, did he bitch about that one!" Travis laughed. "He said he found like half a pound of cooked flesh. It did smell pretty bad around his workstation. He was wearing a mask until he had it all cleaned out. I guess the flesh rotted or something on the trip here from Utah."

  Mark nodded.

  "Where is Tom?" Michael asked. "Kruze told us he hasn't been around lately?"

  "Eh, he's the bosses' grandson, he gets to do crap like this all the time," Travis complained.

  Mark looked at Emily, "Is that true?"

  "Well," she shrugged, "it used to be, but he's been clean and sober for over a year now. Ever since he hooked up with some wiccan gal from Klamath Falls, he cleaned up his act and started showing up on time. I don't know if they broke up and he fell off the wagon, or what."

  "What's her name?"

  "Beth. I don't know what her last name is. Pretty gal, but a bit of a hard case."

  "Hey, she got Tommy to quit drugs," Travis said. "I'd heard her read him the riot act once, about a year ago, when we went out for drinks after work. But he liked her, so I wasn't going to say anything about it."

  "Yeah, he needed a strong hand," Emily said with a laugh, "and she sure had one."

  "They married?" Michael asked.

  They both shrugged, "No idea. He never said," Travis said.

  Mark nodded, "Any idea what he did with the rotted flesh he found?"

  "Probably just threw it in the trash, why?" Emily asked.

  "Avian flu," Michael said. "We're tracking a possible outbreak, and we want to make sure it was disposed of properly."

  "Oh, well, guess you'd have to ask him," she said.

  Mark nodded, "We will. Thank you both for your time."

  "Sure, no problem," Emily said and Travis gave a small wave as they both when back to work.

  "So," Michael asked as they walked back out to the car, "Tommy's house?"

  Mark nodded, "Yup."

  "Got a map? I notice you don't have GPS in this thing."

  Mark chuckled, "Don't need a map, this is Portland."

  "So?"

  "Everything is laid out on a grid. All the streets have the same name from east to west, and they're alphabetical south to north. North east means he's in the northeast quadrant, and the house numbers are assigned by what square you're in."

  "Sounds weird."

  "Yeah, but once you're used to it, it makes finding places a breeze. Let's go."

  8: NE Stark, Portland

  They parked in an open spot on the street a couple of houses down. They weren't in a marked vehicle, and Mark had no desire to get either ticketed or towed, it was Charity's car and she'd be pretty upset with him if he did.

  Walking up to the house, Mark noticed it was a pretty quiet neighborhood, all of the houses here were old and fairly large. There were three mailboxes over by the front door, one for each of the apartments that the house had been divided into. Mark could see from the driveway that one of them was stuffed full of mail and figured that wasn't a g
ood sign. Tommy lived in number three, which was apparently the upstairs. They walked up the driveway, the entrance to the basement was along side it, and they found the stairs up to Tommy's apartment were in the back of the house.

  Going up the stairs, Michael knocked on the door and then pointed to the doorknob that had rattled as he knocked, it was obviously broken.

  "Someone forced their way in here," he said.

  Mark nodded, "I think you're right."

  "Scene of a possible crime, you know what that means?" Michael asked, pulling his badge out and hanging it out of his front pocket, then pulling his gun out next.

  "What?"

  Michael smiled, "We don't need a warrant."

  Mark nodded and got out his own badge and attached it to the cord around his neck, but he didn't bother to pull his own pistol.

  "Well, no one is answering, let's check it out," Michael said and turning the knob he pushed the door open and called out: "FBI, is there anyone inside?"

  They waited a moment; Mark didn't hear anything coming from inside and told Michael.

  "Let's go in," Michael said and led the way, with Mark following.

  The apartment was a one bedroom, with a kitchen and a large living room. It probably was fairly nice, normally, but there was stuff strewn all over the place. All of the cabinets were open, as were the closets and all the drawers, stuff was dumped out and tossed everywhere; even the bed's mattress had been flipped.

  "Someone was looking for something," Mark said.

  Michael nodded. "Look around for any signs of violence, try not to mess things up too much, I'll call the crime lab to come down and process the place after we've given it a quick look."

  Mark nodded and went and looked under the mattress first. He didn't smell anyone, but it was still best to check. He went through the bedroom closet next; everything in it had been pulled down or tossed into the room. The dresser and nightstand were also a complete mess, with the nightstand on its side on the floor.

  "Find anything?" Michael asked, as Mark joined him in the living room.

  "No," Mark said. "I'd guess they came here while he was out."

  "Can you tell how long ago he was here? And with who?" Michael asked him.

  "I'll have to shift to figure that out."