He had said this despite the fact that the closest person in the room to his age was five years older and had been in law enforcement ten years longer.
Things such as this did little to endear him to rest of the emergency services or law enforcement community. In a little less than a year, Tomer had effectively alienated himself from everyone who could have made his job easier. And he still didn’t get it.
“Tony. Here’s the situation.” Stark laid out the details of the raid, bringing him to the current point in time. “Kim, it seems, is not who we originally thought. The suspect who killed himself called him Colonel Kim, and said that he himself was a lieutenant in the North Korean Army. He also mentioned that they work for a general.”
“Military men?”
“Seems that way. Just about half an hour ago, one of the janitors here, a South Korean immigrant named Joseph Chun, claimed he recognized Kim as a North Korean agent who had massacred his family back in the sixties. We’re checking on the name now, but this guy is starting to appear to be a possible mastermind or second-in-command behind some sort of plot, possibly involving weapons of mass destruction.”
“Man. This is potentially very big, then.” Tomer rubbed his fingers thoughtfully across his chin. “What about those things you thought were bombs?”
“Our guys at the crime lab are looking at them, but can’t really figure it out. There’s a guy at Tanana Valley Electric, one of their new dispatchers who grew up here, named Franklin Eckert. He was an electronic warfare special weapons expert in the Navy until about a year ago. His security clearance is still active, so we’ve given him a call to see if he can figure out what these things might be so we don’t have to ship them out to the state lab in Anchorage.”
“Navy? Heh, heh, don’t drop the soap around that guy.” Tomer laughed aloud at his own joke.
Stark stared spitefully at him.
“Get it? Don’t bend over to pick up the soap….Navy….ahh, never mind.” The FBI agent waved a dismissive hand through the air. “Back to business. So the two Arabs,” Tomer pronounced it ‘Ayrabs’, “were working for this Mr. Kim, who is a North Korean Colonel.”
“They’re not Arabs,” Stark said. “They’re Albanian.”
“Whatever,” Tomer replied. “Why would they steal a TVEC truck and run around during a power outage?”
Stark straightened in his chair. “That brings us to another part of this tale. I don’t have all the details, but I was just informed that a team of Navy SEALs on a training exercise on Eielson came upon a whole group of what they identified as North Korean commandos digging into some old bunker. There was a firefight, and eight men were killed. Four got away and one was taken prisoner. We are waiting for more information on that situation.”
Tomer’s mouth dropped open, stupefied. Pulling himself together, he stood up and paced around the room in silence. He looked frightened, like a child whose game just turned seriously dangerous.
“Dead?” Tomer said finally. “Eight men are dead? These SEALs — who gave them permission to kill people on American soil?”
“I assume they came under fire and did what they do best.”
“Holy Mother! Does Eielson know about this?”
“I don’t know. I only found out about it myself a minute before you arrived.”
“Where is this SEAL team and the prisoner?”
“They’re in a cabin out in Salt Jacket, not too far from where it all happened.”
“Salt Jacket? I should’ve guessed it’d be out there, among all those redneck yahoos.”
“I’m sending a couple of troopers out there as soon as we get out of this meeting. Do you want to ride with them?”
“To Salt Jacket? I don’t know if that’s necessary.”
“What’s the matter, Tony? Is that too far out of town for you?”
Tomer’s face reddened at Stark’s challenge. “What? No, no, that’s not it. I just, uh, I just think I should check things out here a bit more first.”
“You really should go check it out. Kim’s locked up and secure. Those SEALs might lose control and treat that prisoner badly — then you’d have a real mess on your hands, since both they and you are federal, and you said yourself, you are in charge. Therefore, you are responsible for whatever happens in this case now.”
There was a knock on the door. Trooper Wyatt opened it and leaned in.
“Chief, I’m going to head out to the cabin in Salt Jacket now. Edwards left about five minutes ago.”
“Good. Keep an eye on things out there and make sure you get a good report from Marcus and that SEAL chief.”
“Yes, sir.”
“By the way, Trooper Wyatt, this is Special Agent Anthony Tomer, FBI. He’s been put in charge of the case now from the federal side.”
Tomer held out his hand to the trooper. His expression shifted from that of a frightened schoolboy back to his more natural lounge-lizard demeanor. “You can call me Tony.” He took her hand and leaned down to kiss her fingers. She crunched her face in disgust and yanked her hand away before he could touch his lips to her skin.
“You can call me Trooper Wyatt,” she replied in a cold tone.
“Ooh! A live one!” he said. “Can I ride in your car out there to Salt Jacket?”
“No.” She replied flatly and turned to leave.
“Tomer, you should just follow her in your car. She may have other duties that will keep her out there late.”
“I would gladly follow her anywhere.” He stared at her rear end as she walked down the hallway. “Wow.”
“Oh, and uh, Tomer,” the chief called to him.
Tomer look back at Stark
“The guy who led the SEAL team on their training exercise is her boyfriend. You’d best not make a fool of yourself out there. I don’t want to have to explain to your boss how you ended up in traction.”
Tomer raised an eyebrow and said with a smirk, “Her boyfriend’s a SEAL, huh? Remember what I said about the Navy and the soap? I wonder what she’d think of real man instead of a sailor. Heh, heh.”
As he walked out the door, Stark muttered under his breath. “Lord, please let him get his ass kicked.”
Chapter 25
The dream continued for what seemed an eternity. Marcus stood at the edge of a cliff, barely resisting the urge to release his foothold and tumble into the darkness below. Below him, shrouded in deep shadow, lay the crushed bodies of his comrades. He looked back, away from the precipice, and there stood Lonnie, patiently waiting for him. Fear was in her eyes. She spoke to him, her voice soft, soothing.
“Marcus, please hold on. I’m waiting for you. I will wait for you. Please hold on."
He held on, even as wave after wave of ceaseless, throbbing pain washed over him like the hammering of the ocean’s tide. After a long period of putting all his effort merely into standing, he forced his legs to take a small, stumbling step away from the cliff’s edge. He moved toward the woman who held her arms out for him.
“I’m coming home, Lonnie.” His voice echoed.
Pain exploded through his whole body. It jerked him out of the dream. A voice mumbled above his head, the words unclear. Marcus felt light brush across his eyelids and sensed his body being turned over.
“You are alive, my friend,” said a deep voice with a heavy African accent. “This is good — not all hope is lost yet. You must hold on to whatever dream you have been having, because it has kept you on this side of the river.”