Silver Shirts Read online

  Silver Shirts

  by Lee Perry

  “Demoralize the enemy from within by surprise, terror, sabotage, assassination.

  This is the war of the future.”

  - Adolph Hitler

  INTRODUCTION

  Ostara

  Los Angeles, CA

  “Are you sure you’re not gonna’ puke?”

  Sgt. Lena Douglas of the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s department looked worriedly at her new charge, rookie deputy Ernest Roberts; the last thing she wanted was to begin her very long workday having to endure the smell of vomit in the car.

  “I’m okay…” he murmured weakly, “It’s just these mountain roads are so… and you’re driving kinda’ fast…”

  Lena glanced out her side window and rolled her eyes, “Well, we can’t typically take our time when it comes to calls up here in the Palisades…”

  “But the person’s dead…” the pale young man drew careful breaths, trying to steady his roiling stomach.

  Lena considered his words and slowed the large SUV, He’s got a point… she mused, deciding that taking an extra minute or two on the winding road leading to Murphy Ranch was preferable to not stopping quick enough in order to let the shaky deputy out to barf. “We’re almost there… but tell me if I need to pull over, okay?”

  Roberts nodded, gripping his uniform khaki slacks in tight sweaty fists as he forced the bile back down his throat. This was only his first week on the job and it would be the first dead body he had ever seen. Okay… let’s not go there till we get there… He forced his thoughts to pleasant memories of graduating from the police academy and the happy faces of his proud parents. Racing off to a report of a dead body… He moaned inwardly, this shit always sounds way cooler on TV…

  “Okay so let’s review our call again,” she forced the bright tone in her voice; “three people drove up to Rustic Canyon for an early morning hike down through Murphy Ranch when they discovered a dead body strung up on the ranch gate. They said it looked like a woman, nude, hanging by the neck…”

  “Yeah… but it seems like a long way to come to dump a body.”

  “Agreed, I could see going a long way in order to hide it, but to display it so graphically…” she glanced at him, “what does that tell you?”

  He shrugged weakly, “They wanted to show it off in the middle of nowhere?”

  “Not nowhere, Deputy Roberts,” she shook her head, “The Murphy family built that ranch back in the 1930’s… pretty much at the urging of a Nazi spy…”

  Roberts looked at her in surprise, “Nazis?” he looked shocked for a moment then scoffed, “Oh, please… you’re messing with me.”

  “I am absolutely not messing with you, Mister Roberts, these people were convinced Hitler was going to win the war, and some guy who ran an American pro-Nazi organization called the Silver Legion of America settled in with his Silver Shirts…”

  His nausea took a small step behind his curiosity and he asked, “What the hell are Silver Shirts?”

  “Well,” she shrugged, “this guy named Pelley headed the organization, and his followers wore a uniform similar to Hitler’s Brown Shirts, and Mussolini and Britain’s Black Shirts…”

  “And they were all Nazi’s?”

  “Technically, I think they were all fascists, but essentially yes.” She felt the large vehicle downshift as the road straightened and gained altitude, “anyway the member’s shirts were a gray color, but they called them silver…” She motioned with her chin up into the rolling hills, “people used to see them patrolling the grounds…”

  “And what happened?” Roberts asked, feeling more confident about keeping his breakfast in his stomach where it belonged.

  “The FBI raided the place, shut it down. It’s just a ruin now, one hikers tramp through.”

  “And this is the first time a murder has ever happened there?”

  “Well now, we don’t know if this woman was killed there…”

  Roberts looked sheepish, “Oh, yeah…”

  “But this would be the first time a dead body has been found there…” She shook her head, “which, when you think about it, is in itself surprising.” She felt the road level off, “There…” she pointed over the steering wheel, “those must be the hikers who called it in.”

  Roberts peered at the figures as they approached, supremely grateful the torturous car ride was at an end, “Thank god…” he muttered.

  “Okay,” she cleared her throat, “we’re just gonna take their statements, check their ID’s…” she glanced at him, “you listening?”

  “Yeah...” he quickly assured her, sitting straighter in his seat.

  “We need to record their license numbers and all their contact information, they’re still witnesses in a homicide, even after the fact, investigators will have to contact them again, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Then we’ll send them on their way and keep the area secure until the coroner and evidence unit arrives.” She pulled the car to a stop in front of the ornate rusted gate, noting how the hikers waited some distance up the road. When she got out of the vehicle, she stopped for a brief moment to regard the remains and pay respects, of a sort, to the nude woman strung up on the Murphy Ranch gate. It almost doesn’t look real. Hung by the neck, the limbs hung straight down, the dirty toes pointing at the dirt, No rigor mortis going here… she’s been dead for awhile. She hooked her thumbs in her utility belt, noticing the long mussed and lifeless blond hair that thankfully obscured the face. There were dark marks on the victim’s chest and abdomen and her eyes narrowed briefly at the emotion that swept over her in a wave; she felt utterly forlorn, I wonder if those are her feelings, she wondered, trapped here now, forever. She shook her head imperceptibly,

  “I’m so sorry…” she muttered under her breath before turning to wave at the hikers, intending to interview them further down the road, in the direction of their parked cars.

  “Oh my god!”

  She heard Roberts gurgle as he began vomiting on Sullivan Ridge Fire Road and she felt her temper flare, “For chrissakes! Do that on the other side of the goddamn road!” She stopped herself, pinching the bridge of her nose in a calming gesture, It’s practically his first day… she drew a deep breath, smiling and waving at the hikers to walk past the gate and down the road, he’s green… She stifled a sudden snort, Yeah; literally, he’s been green for the past twenty-five minutes.

  Making soft, high-pitched wheezing sounds, Roberts stood by the side of the road and dry heaved, emptying his stomach of his breakfast while Sgt. Douglas herded the hikers past him.

  “Oh my god…” one young woman rasped, covering her mouth as they passed between the corpse on the gate and retching deputy, afraid his gastric convulsions would trigger a return of her own reaction when they discovered the dead woman.

  “Don’t feel bad dude,” another hiker informed him as they passed, “we pretty much all did that when we got here.”

  PART 1

  Surprise

  New York City, NY

  “Found yesterday…” Jordan murmured as she swept through the pages of the autopsy on her tablet. “Oh, jeez…” she whispered when she tapped open a photo of the woman’s body, “Strangled…” she read, “with lying Jew whore carved on her chest and abdomen.”

  Her boss, Assistant Director Stewart MacLaine, stared intently at his screen, scanning the same report on his monitor. “We’re treating this as a hate crime for now. L.A.’s gonna’ release the body to next of kin, but we’re getting everything else.”

  “This happened in California…” Jordan murmured pointedly, “and we’re getting this case from the L.A. bureau because…”

  “She lived and worked here.” Stewart sounded distracted as he typed on hi
s keyboard, “I’m sending you the rest of the paperwork now…”

  Jordan checked the time, “Okay, I’ll get started.”

  “Have plans tonight do you?”

  She chuckled, feeling her neck grow warm under her collar, “As it turns out, I have plans every night now.”

  “It’s nice, huh?”

  “Yep…” she sighed, “it is.”

  “Okay,” he gestured, dropping his hands on his desk with a thump, “so you’re still in my office…”

  “I’m still waiting to hear why I’ve inherited a hate crime from Los Angles when I’m now heading up my own organized cyber crime department consisting of myself and a super brainy computer contractor…”

  “Ah…” he turned back to his workstation and reopened his email program, “I just forwarded all this to you; the victim’s name was Nancy Ward, she was a middle management employee for a company here in New York called Dynamic Infrastructure.”

  “Oh,” Jordan checked her tablet again and began opening the emails that now populated her inbox, “I get it… it’s all starting to come together now.”

  “Yep…” he sighed expressively, “this case is all yours.”

  “Thank you.” She stood and headed for the door.

  “First case now you’re back.”

  “Yep.”

  “So how was Halloween?”

  Her grin was soft, “It was fun...” she said simply, adding, “Thanks for asking.”

  “Having a life outside of work…” he said to her as she left, “it’s a good thing, Jordan…”

  Between the sale of Catherine’s old house and joint purchase of their new home in Millburn, Jordan accompanied Catherine to her first meeting with Assistant Director Bea McNamara, in charge of Cyber Division. Their subsequent conversations became so mind-numbingly technical Jordan opted to work out in the gym or spent time on the range while they discussed Catherine becoming a paid contractor. By the time Bea officially hired her as an FBI consultant, Jordan had begun seeing FBI psychiatrist Lianna Sackette.

  During her slow return to active service, Jordan found herself unable to enter the office she had shared for years with her partner, Don Maynard, killed in the line of duty, and when Dr. Sackette suggested a move, she agreed. Newly in charge of the Organized Cyber Crime Subdivision, the department was comprised entirely of herself and Doctor Catherine Bernard, and she now shared a new office with Catherine on the same floor as Cyber Division so Catherine and Bea could have more immediate access to each other. She was still smiling when she entered the small room and realized it was empty; She and Bea must be working on something… She sat at her desk, turning the swivel chair until she was looking out the window.

  After the terrible events that led to the fatal confrontation in the warehouse owned by crime boss Anthony Rossi, Jordan and Catherine spent the end of spring and beginning of the summer in Baja, California with Catherine’s two-year old son Cameron. The extended vacation gave Jordan time to heal from injuries received in the shootouts at the Rossi residence and later at the warehouse that resulted in the shooting death of Catherine’s ex-wife, Alex. When they returned to New York, they found a house to rent and spent the next month engaging a realtor to sell the house Catherine owned in Marlboro, New Jersey. Enrolled in the state’s historical society, the house was a stone colonial built in 1793 and when Catherine bought it several years before it had been a buyers’ market, but now the housing market favored sellers and Jordan privately noted the dollar signs that lit up in the realtor’s eyes every time they met with her.

  Before the estate sale that preceded the sale of her house, Catherine retrieved her clothes, mementos of her mother and toys belonging to Cameron and her small, murdered daughter Chelsea. After seeing how painful the experience was for her, Jordan suggested she see Dr. Sackette too, and realizing she needed a neutral third party to discuss matters both personal and professional, Catherine agreed and found she liked the tall athletic psychiatrist. Sometimes she and Jordan met with her together, and when Cameron fell asleep in his car seat on the ride home, they always openly discussed their sessions, whether they were private or not.

  Her eyes travelled from the view to the framed picture of her and Don when she had been released from the hospital from a gunshot wound in the thigh, My life is so good now… If you were still here… Her smile was crooked and wistful; the photo had been taken years before and she lost herself in the expressions of deep trust and friendship on their faces, if you were still here it’d be perfect. She sighed, contented, Everything has finally come together… The house they bought was nestled against the foot of South Mountain Reservation in Millburn, New Jersey, and Jordan loved that it was far from Catherine’s old house and sad memories. Part farmhouse part rustic chalet, they loved the beamed cathedral ceilings and paneled walls, and in spite of being in the woods the house filled with light during the day and at night, they felt protected in the shelter of the trees. They also loved that it was only twenty miles to work, thirty-five minutes in reasonable traffic with only one toll road.

  Halloween had fallen in the middle of the week and Jordan delighted being at home, helping Catherine dress Cameron in the lion costume that covered him from head to toe. They walked him from house to house, down their small street and up the main road, taking pictures and as much pleasure in Cameron’s first Halloween experience collecting candy as he did. I just wish you were still here, Don… she gazed longingly at the photo, you’d love them too.

  Another minute passed until she looked down at the tablet she held in her lap, Back to work… she sighed aloud and stood, preferring to review the new case files in the small auditorium across the hall. Despite the sign indicating the room was not in use, she cautiously opened the door in case someone was inside. Finding it empty, she flipped on the lights and connected her tablet to the control panel on the podium.

  She loved that she could open multiple files on the enormous screen covering the wall and she scanned through the attachments Stewart sent her, reopening the autopsy report and clicking open an addendum that covered discovery of the victim’s identity. Huh… Jordan fidgeted idly with the remote as she scanned the report projected hugely on the screen, discovered yesterday hanging on a gate… but the coroner determined time of death nearly four days earlier… Thoughtful, she walked around the podium, still reading, There was evidence of post mortem chemical burns on the underside of the body, caused by contact with solid carbon dioxide… which I believe is dry ice… Her eyes glued to the screen, she draped her arms over the front of the podium, leaning on it for support. Evidence of anal intercourse... also post mortem… She shook her head, It wasn’t enough to just kill her… you had to fuck her in the ass too? Jordan read on, Condom was used… so no DNA. Evidence indicates he climbed on her dead body more than once to… Jordan winced, Jesus, what a pervert. Using the remote, she began clicking through the photos of the body, stopping when she got to a series of close-ups of the woman’s chest and abdomen and the words LYING JEW WHORE, ruthlessly carved into the flesh.

  She sighed heavily, clicking through the autopsy report again; Those words were cut into her after he killed her… Her eyes darted back to the photo, Thank god for small favors…

  There was a knock at the door and when she turned to see Catherine poke her head inside she quickly closed the files on the screen.

  “Oh, my god…” Catherine caught only a glimpse of the photo as she entered the room and closed the door behind her, “Is that our new case?” she asked, crossing to room to take Jordan’s hand.

  “I…” She stopped, her mouth briefly clamping shut, “Yes, I guess it is…” She pulled her to the theater-style seats. “Your very first case.”

  “What?”

  “It just sounds… odd, saying those words out loud.” They sat and Jordan shrugged one-sidedly, “I’m sorry your very first case involves murder.”

  “Stewart called and said I should find you so we can get started on it.”

  “Y
es,” she checked her watch, “I can review the initial files with you before we get Cam from daycare.” She turned to regard her briefly, “The photos of the victim are pretty bad; you don’t have to see them in order to help with this… I need you to investigate this woman’s professional life…” She raised the remote and clicked open a file, “She worked for a company called Dynamic Infrastructure…”

  Catherine’s brows disappeared beneath blond bangs, “Really?”

  “Heard of it?”

  “No,” she shook her head, “dynamic infrastructure is a paradigm for information technology…” A single brow arched on Jordan’s forehead and she stopped, a smile plucking at the corners of her mouth, “have I lost you already?”

  “Are my eyes glassy?” She asked drolly and leaned in for a kiss.

  Catherine happily welcomed the soft lips before scolding her, “I thought you said no hanky-panky at work…”

  “I did… how about tonight after Cam goes to bed?”

  “I’ll hold you to that.”

  “Good, so… back to dynamic insta-something?”

  Catherine chuckled, “The term dynamic infrastructure refers to how data centers are designed so the underlying hardware and software can respond, or act… in flexible and efficient ways… dynamically… to constantly changing levels of demand.”

  “Like on the Internet…”

  “Yes.”

  “But in an actual building…” Jordan sounded uncertain.

  “Yes… big businesses like IBM and Microsoft offer dynamic infrastructures; picture an enormous building that houses nothing but servers that offer IT services… information technology…” she clarified.

  “The Internet…” Jordan interjected.

  “Well,” Catherine nodded, “yes, among a myriad of other online data services…”

  “Okay…”

  “Dynamic Infrastruc…” she waved her hand, “let’s shorthand this and refer to it as DI…” Jordan nodded and she continued, “by leveraging pooled IT resources, DI can provide flexible IT capacities… so basically it provides seamless, real time IT services that run smoothly and quickly, keeping their customers happy with fast, efficient IT services while at the same time using fewer backup machines and less energy. It’s like keeping the load in the washing machine balanced; the more evenly distributed the clothes being washed, the less likely the load will become unbalanced and stop the washer…”