Episode 31 Wrath (part 3/3) (Patreon)

Norman Jangus

“I told you he wouldn’t need help.” He told his second in command.

 His outfit had just returned stateside, after months of dirty work. It was perfect timing, too, and he arrived just as Routh stormed in and confronted the corrupt detective and the two brothers, a small-time gang that was tolerated by their bigger rivals because of their connection to crooked cops.     

With the leadership out of the picture, he quickly used the opportunity and took over their half a dozen safe houses, eliminating the remaining threats and acquiring a good amount of real dollars in return. Their cell now had new backup sites stateside and the means to fund them for a few years.

“The wife is a crack shot.” His second observation. “At least she did our work for us.”

An alert spread through their organization. Someone was accessing highly classified intel, and they were able to track down the culprit. Serj Derian was smart enough to eliminate his accomplice, but he forgot about his phone and that it constantly gave an accurate GPS location of a few feet.

No one could know about Jack Routh’s past or his real name. If his former family found out, it could spell disaster for the whole intelligence community. They had already destroyed two black projects in retaliation, and he would not want to be in their crosshairs.

“The problem is she called her father.” He replied. He watched as Routh continued to debrief the I.A. chief about the situation, no doubt telling it in a way that protected his wife.

“So what do we do about it?”

“They’re smart enough to keep things quiet.” He replied. He owed the two that much. “But let’s keep watching them from a distance. Right now, I’m intrigued about that armor he wore in the desert.”

 “It’s just all fancy cosplay shit, isn’t it?” His second asked. “Just a bunch of 3D printed plastic parts and some computer fans.”

“Check out the materials his friend used to fabricate it.” He handed his tablet to the driver.

“How the hell did he get this?”

“Apparently, they send some samples to noteworthy scientists to test for other applications.” He answered. “Only Wolowitz took it seriously, and he used the scraps and used NASA experimental tech and combined it to build Routh a state of the art armor that makes a SEAL team’s gear look like airsoft cosplay.”

Howard Wolowitz was very proud of his creation and documented the process and uploaded it online. While he didn’t mention the brands of special filament he used or the lining, he recognized the material instantly.

“Think we can get him to build a few suits? The cooling system alone would make him every operator’s favorite person.”

“He ran out of materials, and he’s busy fabricating sets for Hondo’s squad during his free time. He’s also working with the Air Force on that new guidance system.”

He was on the fence about contacting the engineer directly. Perhaps he could use Routh as the middleman, and in turn, he could offer Routh some fancy gear to help them on their goal to turn their home into a fortress. The married couple had turned into full-blown preppers with the way they purchased equipment in the event of an apocalypse.

The last he heard, they had also installed solar panels, a rainwater collection and purification system, and even a large LPG tank to power the generator he brought to them. They were making their own safe houses look poor and outdated in comparison, and the only thing they had over the couple's home was their armored bunker.

Susan Coleman

Her position was secure, but perhaps she moved too rashly against her perceived rivals. She felt humiliated as Stevens called her reckless in front of her aides. The man had not pulled any punches in her meeting with him at his office.

The groups that supported her were unable to say anything as word spread of Jack Routh’s amazing rescue of the two girls lost in a dust storm. What was worse, the mother made a circuit to various talk shows about the incident, spreading Routh’s heroics out to the public.

The clamor about Captain Andersen’s young husband being cruel to animals died down, but she had already handed the order and signed the one-month leave herself. She knew she made an enemy of the mayor by refusing to back down, and she worked too hard to reach this position.

Now she learned that Andersen, the Barbie pretending to be a cop, had uncovered a corruption scandal. She also played a key role in stopping the Derian crime family, thwarting their attempts to corrupt the force through blackmail, bribery, and corruption. Many officers raised a toast to her courage and willingness to face off against a formidable enemy, even those captains whom she favored. It was infuriating.

Commander Percy West walked in, and she schooled a pleasant expression on her face as she greeted the head of Internal Affairs. He arrived with a bunch of auditors as they finished their thorough examination and were now ready to present their report.

His face remained stern, and she wondered if the man had recovered from the disgrace nearly a year ago when his son crashed out of the field training program.

The meeting started with West immediately getting to the point. She didn’t like his approach at all, preferring a round of idle chit chat first and pleasantries to get everyone comfortable and on the same page.

She held her tongue in the end since it was West’s meeting to preside over. She was just there to supervise.

She watched the other commander’s faces frown as they read the reports. Several officers were now under investigation, and even a sergeant working at Central was flagged for suspicion. West was proposing lifestyle checks, and she turned the page over. This was her expertise, numbers and hard data.

She tuned out West’s suggestions and focused on the end of the second page, where it listed the results from the financial auditors.

“Is this data accurate?” She interrupted West without any care. “This can’t be right.”

“What’s the problem, Chief?” West asked.

“This part.” She pointed her finger at the graph of her own copy of the report.

“We haven’t gotten to that part yet.” West replied.

“This is crucial. Why has the support for the foundation dropped by forty percent?” The foundation was her baby, and it was the primary reason that allowed her to rise to her current station. The fundraising campaigns, the scholarship, and livelihood programs ran through her department before she became the chief of police.

The auditors looked uncomfortable, and she narrowed her eyes at their reluctance to speak.

“Well?” She asked impatiently. “What’s the cause of such a drastic reduction?”

“One of the biggest contributors to the foundation withdrew their support.” One of the younger auditors answered.

“What was the reason?” She asked. She made sure to meet regularly with groups that supported her career. Did she offend one of them by accident? She needed to soothe some ruffled feathers, fast.

“Officer Jack Routh donates all of his shares of his earnings with Taylor Swift’s label to the foundation.” The auditor reported and licked his lips before he continued speaking. “He recently withdrew all support and started his own charity. I was informed by his lawyer, who represented him and managed his foundation, the other day.”

There was total silence in the room. She swore she could hear her own heartbeat and breathing, and she suddenly felt lightheaded. Good god. The lavish parties at hotels, the exotic vacation destinations, the scholarship funds. They were now gone, and she apparently punished the biggest contributor to the charity foundation to teach the bitch a lesson.

“Chief?” West asked. She could feel the stares behind her back, and among her circle, she saw the shock and dawning realization on their faces. It felt like a cold bucket of water had been dumped on her head. She rubbed her arms as an uncontrollable shiver ran through her body. She was fucked.

“Continue without me.” She quickly left the conference room and headed to her office. She needed space to think.

Tamara Collins

It was strange to be called a rich kid on campus when just months before, she was living in the streets inside a smelly camping tent. Her clothes were all brand new, so was her phone, her laptop, and her smart watch.

The pretty lawyer had even asked if she wanted a car, but she was fine with using Uber for the moment. The foundation that paid for her education was very generous, and despite saving most of her allowance, she found out she now had disposable money to spend, a concept she couldn’t fathom before.

Jack Routh. That man literally saved her life and gave her a future with his generosity, and he only met the man once. There were others like her, scholars who had applied for the program. Everyone except her had relatives who served in the force, and she was incredibly grateful to Lucy for vouching for her.

She owed her a lot, and she was thinking of doing something nice for her. Lucy regularly visited, and she had come to enjoy their weekly bonding, but she could tell the older woman was lonely. Lucy lived alone in a two-bedroom apartment, and she thought about moving in with her.

Life in the dorm building was a bit suffocating anyway with the strict curfews, and she wanted some freedom. 

“Waiting long?” Lucy arrived in her orange Datsun.

“Not long.” She hopped in, used by now to pulling at the old handle with some force to open the car door. They quickly shared how their week was, and as they arrived at her favorite restaurant, she brought up the topic that was on the back of her mind.

“So…” She played around with the appetizers with her fork.

“Just spit it out, Tamara.” Lucy smiled at her. “I can tell something is distracting you.”

“Are you still looking for a roommate?” She asked. “Because I spoke with Camille, and the foundation would cover my part of the rent.”

“You mean you want to…” She nodded, and just as she expected, Lucy's smile grew wider. “Of course, yes! But what put this on?”

“The strict curfew was suffocating.” She explained. “And I want to find part-time work.”

“But the foundation…”

“I know, but I want to gain work experience.” She explained. “So, when do I move in?”

“Tonight, if you want to.” Lucy replied instantly. She could tell the older woman was brimming with excitement. The sight alone made her decision worth it. “We have to go shopping!”

Lara McLaughlin

Ever since the incident with the armed men storming a plane, drastic reforms have taken place in the airport. The LAX airport police suffered from heavy criticism from the media and elected officials, and the pressure that built up was so enormous that the chief of the department had to resign.

His replacements took drastic reforms, including increased patrol frequency and security checks. The changes resulted in longer lines and grumpy passengers.

She was a border agent, and even they got affected because the gunmen were undocumented aliens that were part of a cartel. It didn’t matter that those men crossed the border through Mexico, the politicians, eager for public approval to make it look like they were doing something, made sure they were also blamed for the incident. It was beyond frustrating, but she had to follow the new procedures.

Step one, take thirty seconds to look at the man’s face and compare it to the passport they provided. Step two, run a biometric scan of their fingerprints thanks to the biometric scanner that was just installed. Step three, check the scan with the database and see if they were wanted by Interpol.

It was tedious, but it had to be done.

“Next.” She called out.

A handsome Latino stepped forward, sharply dressed and wearing a smile fit for a magazine. She took the passport and compared it to his face.

“Sir, stop smiling.” She instructed. She examined the visa. 5 years, multiple entry, and he had visited the States a couple of times in three years. “Why are you visiting the United States?”

“For pleasure.” The man named Enrique Dominguez replied.

“How long will you be staying?” She asked. The records were clean on the passport.

“Two weeks.” The man seemed very confident and picked up the briefcase he had put on the ground beside him.

His itinerary was good, with proof of hotel bookings at a five-star resort.

“Wait, sir.” She called out as the man started to move. She frowned, she didn’t like his presumption that her questions were over. “Please place your right hand on the biometric scanner.”

“What?” Enrique looked confused.

“It’s a new policy, sir.” She replied in a cold tone.

The man placed his hand on the scanner, and after a brief moment, his prints started running through the database. Red light flashed on her screen. It was a red notice, a man with French nationality called Alexander Montel, also known as the Red Wolf. Wanted for multiple murders, extortion, racketeering… good lord, his rap sheet was as long as her arm. He was also identified by Interpol as the son of the boss of a large international crime syndicate. He shared the same face as Enrique Dominguez from Argentina.

“Hold! Do not move!” She called out, attracting the attention of LAX cops in the vicinity. The man, now known as Montel, looked bewildered as he was quickly apprehended. She picked up her phone to call her supervisor. This was way beyond her pay grade.

She closed her booth as part of the procedure, and her replacement took her place. Three men led Montel to a holding room. Ten minutes later, her supervisor’s boss arrived, looking worried.

“This guy is on the most wanted list.” Her boss noted. LAX police were in a frenzy as word spread of the capture of an international fugitive. “FBI, DHS, CIA, they’re all calling me, telling me to double and triple the guard.”

The LAXPD chief arrived thirty minutes later, and she watched as he conducted a hastily assembled press briefing as the information on Montel’s arrest quickly spread to the networks.

She watched from the side as the new Chief spoke to the press from behind the podium.

“The new security measures that we at the LAXPD implemented are working.” The chief bragged to the mass of reporters and news crews that filled the room. She scoffed and shared a look with her boss. Those measures came from her department, not LAXPD. They were prioritized with the allocation because of the recent incident.

“The arrest of Alex Montel, also known as the Red Wolf, proves that.” The chief continued speaking. “We are in contact with the federal agencies as we speak.”

The man she had just talked to from her booth a few hours ago just smirked, like he didn’t care that he was just arrested and detained. Meanwhile, the LAXPD chief was clearly enjoying the new spotlight on him, as if he were the one to arrest the international fugitive, wanted in eight countries.

One bold reporter focused on Montel, his cameraman following his lead.

“Alex Montel, any statement?” The reporter asked.

“One hundred million dollars.” The man replied in a French accent. “For anyone who can free me. This is not a joke.”

The chief quickly gave a signal, and Montel, in cuffs, was quickly dragged away, but the notorious criminal wasn’t done yet. He shouted louder this time. “ONE HUNDRED MILLION DOLLARS!”

Susan Coleman

She had been given a number to call, but the woman who answered wasn’t Routh at all. She couldn’t directly call him, since his official phone was surrendered when he was put on administrative leave, and she didn’t know his personal number.

 A few of her allies were already asking questions about her recent moves, and she didn’t have any answers that would satisfy them. It had been an impulsive move on her part, and she was partially influenced by her friends who hated Routh’s brutal killing of some wild boars.

Who knew the rookie cop had that much influence and connections? She knew she acted recklessly in a fit of arrogance and jealousy, and now she was now paying the price. She just wanted to put the two Barbies in place, and now her job was at risk.

She was worried that she would be known as the police chief who served the shortest time in the entire department’s history. She didn’t want to end her legacy that way, and she needed something bold, decisive that would distract her critics.

“Chief! New development!” One of her aides arrived at her office and quickly turned on the TV. She watched the coverage, as the LAXPD had in their custody Alex Montel, son of Kristoff Montel, head of an international criminal organization.

Her eyes widened at the implication. There were rumors that Alex was being groomed to replace her father, and the intel he knew could be a boon to law enforcement around the world. Whoever made him crack first would no doubt be a legend.

“Call Hansen.” She told her aide to contact her counterpart at LAXPD. She needed to have Montel transferred to central. They had better facilities and resources to handle a man like Montel and the threat he posed. D-platoon was currently under investigation along with Cortez, but she was confident that the Beta and Charlie platoons were up to the simple task of guarding the prisoner.

Thankfully, Chief Hansen agreed, but not before presenting Montel to the public. Then the unthinkable happened, and she realized her day had turned from horrible to terrible.

“ONE HUNDRED MILLION DOLLARS!”

Montel shouted live at the cameras filming him, and the news anchors repeated his promise. 100 million dollars to whoever would be able to set him free. She had just accepted a ticking time bomb right into her station. No doubt Hansen would be eager to shove the responsibility and the problems that came with it onto her.

She was fucked.