SAFE HAVENS: Shadow Masters (A Sean Havens Black Ops Novel Book 1) (31 page)

“What do you two chuckleheads want?”

The two men smiled.

One said, “We probably deserved that. If you have a minute, we’d like to start over. I am Detective Neil and my partner…”

“Bob,” Havens interrupted.

“Kneel and bob, ha ha,” the detective responded stoically. “Daniels, did you hear that? The kneel and bob joke again.”

“So normally, Mr. Havens, I’d get up in your face when I am trying to extend an olive branch and it’s shoved back in my face, but really, we could use your help and would like to take a much more collaborative approach this time where my partner, Detective Daniels, and I don’t play the slapstick Mutt and Jeff routine and work with you as a professional.”

“Can we come in for a moment, Mr. Havens?”

“Did you catch the Albanians?”

“Look, Mr. Havens, we came at you with a little game that we used to play when we were deployed overseas together in our reserve unit. Sometimes it works here, sometimes it doesn’t. We really don’t think Albanians or street gangs had any involvement in this. We have a lead on the guy who attacked your daughter and Lars spiraled out the window. Doesn’t make sense. Sure, he had been involved with sexual assault and stalking, but he was too hot and cold. He was never involved in drugs and I can’t see him making contact with street gangs to put out a hit on your family. Too many mutually exclusive parts that don’t connect well with daily life around this city. Pattern of life for these events won’t add up unless you force them.”

Surprised at this approach and at their new demeanor, Havens invited them in. He led them to the kitchen and offered some coffee still hot and fresh in the pot.

“You know, Mr. Havens that Keurig coffeemaker you have does the same thing by the cup. You must really like coffee. How you been holding up?”

“Yeah, I used up all the cups and haven’t gone to the store. My wife used to order them online, but as the man of the house I am a bit lost now that I really am the man of the house. I just keep walking around in here fixing up things a bit.”

“I hear you, Mr. Havens. We are again very sorry for your loss. How is your daughter doing?”

“She’s hanging in there. I have to head over a bit later to check in. Thanks for asking. So, while I’d like to know what you are doing here, I’d also be interested in where you were in Iraq or Afghanistan.”

Daniels jumped in to answer the question while pouring a cup of coffee and handing it to his partner before pouring his own. “I was SF tasked to do CT, but had to do COIN. Sorry, I forgot you’re a business guy. I was Special Forces tasked to do some counterterror work in Iraq. I ended up doing counterinsurgency and was assigned to a taskforce with this jarhead who was a reservist up in Michigan. We did Fallujah and then got a call from the powers that be that they needed some more guys to collect intel and who could survive in isolated areas. We were sent to Kunar and Nuristan in northeast Afghanistan. Special…”

Havens interrupted. Something was off. “From what I have read in the papers, that area was an awfully violent and rugged area for two detectives to be running around while on reserve duty. I mean no disrespect but…”

“Yeah, well we are leaving out some of the details so we didn’t bore you, but suffice it to say, we both were deemed as capable of dealing with the feuding clans, understanding the long history of fighting outsiders, and how insurgents move freely with the help of many local allies.” Neil gave his partner a knowing wink. “Probably something an accountant wouldn’t know much about.”

“Oh, speaking of which,” Neil added, “we need to figure out what to do with that dog.”

“Shit. You’re right.”

“Whoa.” Havens was struggling with the situation. He held up a hand. They knew something. “What’s going on here?”

“Whattayamean?” Detective Daniels had a smile across his face protesting innocence like a sibling caught picking on his younger brother. “Want a dog?”

“No, I don’t want a dog. I just got rid of some pets.” He paused. “What kind of dog?”

“Belgian Malinois rescue dog. Still gun shy from Afghanistan.”

“I don’t care about the dog.”

“You just asked about the dog. Getting frustrated, Mr. Havens? Sarandui ta khaber warkri?”

“What did you just say?”
Stay in character, Havens. They are baiting you, asking if you want to call the police in Pashto. They know something.

“Ah for geez sake, let him off the hook before we both end up in the hospital.”

“Fine.”

“Sorry. Just meaning we know you can be a badass. Havens, Detective Neil used to work with some folks you used to do some work for. He had seen your picture in a file before at a particular compound and heard of some of your exploits.”

“Dick, that would be classified,” Neil scolded his partner. “I told you that in confidence.”

“Is it worse to violate your compartmented read-on or that I told a secret? Confidence doesn’t meet your DSS obligations.” Detective Daniels turned to Havens, “Sure you don’t want a dog?”

“Enough! What do you want?”

“Fine. I’ll come clean. I knew your name the first time I read it in the reports. It was confirmed once I also saw that you were connected to Red Peterson whose name I saw on a report notation in the station. Since I didn’t know much about you, we had to see how you stood up to the travel cover that you were no doubt using. I was a detective before joining the Army then took up a job here when I got out. Even though I wasn’t privy to the work you were doing with a particular squadron, loose lips still made you a bit of a legend. Not many Clark Griswolds roll with our kind and can make us look like a couple of pussies. I know some of the shit that you’ve done. I certainly know of Red and the teams that he was on. It’s two and two math.”

“So you just came by here to play the name drop game with me or what?” Havens got up and poured himself more coffee to keep busy.

“No. I played the name drop game so you know we are still working your case and that the shit doesn’t smell right. CPD is still on it, and you need to know we are personally handling it since our fear is there is some evil shit that could be on your proverbial shoe.”

“And why do you say that, detective?”

“As they say on TV, it just doesn’t add up. And the circle of events that surrounded the attack with you as a primary objective spinning down to no one to question, dead ends, and more dead ends with the look of everyday random or half-assed planned violence but with a degree of backstopping that kills trails? Frankly, Mr. Havens, it’s the kind of shit you or…shall we say…your likely former associates—who do not officially exist—might do.”

And what I am doing now. Good point.

Havens sat and said nothing for a while. For such a small community, it could be so big sometimes. No attribution was supposed to mean no one would know. So how do people know? People talk. And people who like to keep secrets and compartmentalize their activities and personal lives hate talk. Was there more to this?

“How would you guys know I would understand Pashto? It isn’t in my records.”

“I guessed.”

“And where does this dog fit in?”

“It doesn’t. We told someone who couldn’t take care of it any longer that we would ask around the station to see if someone would tend to a furry retired soldier. Had no intention of mentioning it to you, but for a second there it struck me that you could probably use a friend. At the very least a distraction. But you seem like a decent enough guy and that distraction would turn into a kinship. You look like a dog guy. Plenty of room in the backyard.”

“That’s a pretty big dog. They also have quite a spirit and I am not going to just leave a dog like that around in the house all day.”

“Actually, well she is huge, but she has some non-physical war wounds and doesn’t do much. Likes to go for a walk every now and again but only in the morning when it is light and there are not many people around. Pretty much happy with just a place to sleep and a pat on the head every now and again. Good dog, but the owner is moving to an apartment. The dog was used to rolling around in the sandbox and being in a crate most of the time. Seen some bad shit too.”

“I can’t deal with a dog right now. Tell me more about your hunches on what happened here. Does my brother-in-law know any of this?”

The two men looked at each other. “Told you.”

“Mr. Havens…”

“Sean is fine.”

“Sean, your brother-in-law is a great guy, but he is too close to this and he’s already breathing down people’s necks.”

“Well that’s good, right? For chrissake, it was his sister.”

“Yeaah,” Neil responded, dragging the word out. “But he is more interested in trying to direct us where to go and where not to go.”

“I don’t see the issue. He is a brilliant criminologist.”

“That’s the point. Some of his direction…He’s all over the place these days. Asking questions, getting his nose in other people’s cases. Looking at past evidence.”

“Re-direction is what it feels like,” Daniels interjected.

“Right, re-direction.”

“Guys, what are you implying?”

“We are not implying anything. We are just saying he is being a pain in the ass and it isn’t helping us. It would be good to maybe not mention we were here. We are on your side and just wanted to say we are on it. If there is anything that comes to mind which would help us or make sure nothing else happens…”

“OK.”

The men nodded.

Havens rose. “Look guys, I appreciate you coming by. I really want to get to the hospital and have some other things I have to do.”

“You have our cards?”

“No, I threw them out. Do you have another?”

“Sure.” The detectives handed Havens their cards again. He regarded them as if the names should mean something now, but nothing came. He tucked them in his back pocket.

“You sure you don’t want a dog? Might keep you out of trouble. You don’t happen to know anything about two charred bodies?”

I knew that we should have covered them ourselves.

“Heard something on the news about it. I heard there was some rival gang stuff trying to add insult to injury on those guys. They were the same ones who were in my house right?”

“I’d have to check, Mr. Havens. It’s not on our radar. CPD isn’t pursuing it at all. They buried those guys to avoid more vandalism. Family decided on unmarked graves too now. Looks like they were just erased from this world. Suppose what goes around comes around.”

“Suppose so.”

Daniels walked to the door and turned around. “Alright, brother, call us if you need anything.” Daniels reached out his hand in an upwards motion for a hand clasp.

Havens looked at the extended hand and glared icily into Daniel’s eyes, hands still at his sides. “I’m not your brother, detective. Thank you for coming by. I will call if I need anything or if I have something I think you can use.”

He shut the door behind them as soon as they hit the stoop.

“So how do you think that played?”

“Fine until you did the brother shit.”

“Yeah, well I thought we were all good, knowing we are all on the same team and had served.”

“Havens serves those who serve. He doesn’t fit in with us. He is an anomaly. He doesn’t fit in anywhere. The guy pretends to be a business guy, but really doesn’t embrace the commercial community. He supports the military, but would prefer to be away from the military apparatus. He turns it on and turns it off. Guy is a fuckin’ chameleon robot. I actually feel sorry for him. A guy like that needs a wife that will leave him alone and deal with his shit, no questions asked. He’s got none of that now and he probably is really struggling with who he is and what he does. The man wants to be left alone on his own terms and now that he really is alone, it probably scares the shit out of him. But I’ll tell you what, you should hear of the shit he has done. Can’t ever take that away from him, but he doesn’t wear it on his sleeve. He just does it and puts it behind him. If he was real military, he’d have a full breast of metal on his uniform.”

“Like, what’s he done? You never really told me aside from getting out of some scrapes.”

“Well clearly you can’t keep your mouth shut.”

“Clearly you can’t either, so don’t go bustin’ my chops. Give me something.”

“Pretty much this guy was considered a surgical instrument mold for the future. Dudes like me fit more of the conventional profile of covert smash and grab door-kicking operators and usually had to get jammed into discrete operating platforms. What that means was the country didn’t do as many black ops when they thought too big of a footprint would get us pinched.”

“So Havens doesn’t get pinched?” Daniels raised his eyebrows suggesting that maybe Havens was more involved in the murder.

“Nah, bro. This isn’t his style. Havens works ops that are considered ‘unacknowledged’ and ‘waived’ status for clandestine intel, ops, and support stuff. That way he and the program details and funding don’t get linked to the actual programs. Only a small handful of guys even have access to the same programs, and if they do, they really don’t even know the true purpose of the program or mission.”

Daniels whistled. “So this is a bad dude.”

“He’s bad, but mostly he’s smart. Thing that I never liked about black ops stuff is you are in the middle of it, don’t know about all of it, and you can’t let that bother you. So to me, it means you are really trusting, a bit off, or your moral compass is spinning at light speed. Most guys can’t do the work for too long. Havens has been at it a long time.

“I see. So why do they do it?”

“The thrills probably. The black can be pretty fucking exhilarating. You see firsthand that things get done by your direct efforts. About as tip of the spear as you get. But I think of it like black ops are fought in some dark abyss. You have to trade your soul to play. Dedication, honor, and all that jazz drive the priority of the mission. Fucked up thing is those who emerge from the abyss may come out alive but are real casualties. Kills their souls.”

“Man, you’re giving me the chills.” Daniels shook his head in disbelief and just stared out his side window.