Story: The Dogs of War – Part 1 of 4
Chapter One
Boston Medical Center
"This way Mr. Tehaddiga," said the helpful coroner.
T'Challa noted the layout of the coroner's office, the type of doors used and the locks-the information would be necessary for the break in later.
The morgue was cold, and smelt of the substance that they cleaned the bodies with. The room that held the refrigerated bodies was not very large and it felt like a coffin. The grey steel refrigerated doors were liked closed portals to painful horrors. Who knew what kind of mangled bodies rested inside the confines of the storage or the few that were not marred by violence but died peacefully in their sleep?
T'Challa's sense of smell acute picked up other things that added color to the otherwise dour environment like the faint scent of a chicken sandwich that had been eaten in the room. There was the crude trace of dried blood that was there, but not there at the same time. The way the coroner tried to conceal a foreign accent. The way the light bounced off the polished handle bars of the refrigerator doors. Then the morbid excitement that caused the coroner's heart to race.
T'Challa braced himself for what was to come next. The coroner and the detective escorted him to view the body.
T'Challa was not going by his real name and the deceased was not his kin. He wore a disguise with a voice modifier in the neck.
The coroner pulled the slab from out the refrigerator for the visitors. The body on the slab was that of a woman and she had been decapitated. The woman was identified as Onika Tehaddiga from the driver's license found on her. T'Challa squeezed the small bag in his right hand that contained the other belongings that were discovered on her person. A bitter taste formed in the back of his mouth.
"Where's her head?" asked T'Challa, shaken.
"We are still looking for it," replied detective Harris.
"She was shot through the heart," said the coroner, and he pointed to the exit wound.
"Shot in the back," said the detective.
Visible tears welled up in T'Challa's eyes.
"Why was her head cut off?" asked T'Challa.
"We don't know," replied Harris.
The sympathetic coroner rolled the slab back into the refrigerator.
"I'm taking the body back to Wakanda," said T'Challa.
"Of course," said the coroner. "We just have some paper work to go through."
T'Challa followed the coroner's instructions in order to sign out the body. Afterwards, T'Challa and Harris left the hospital.
T'Challa was twenty-one-years-old with an athletic physique. He wore light clothing for the spring weather.
Harris was a two hundred pound veteran detective. He exuded a quiet confidence in his stride.
"I need to ask you a few questions," said Harris.
"No problem," said T'Challa.
"Do you have transport?" asked Harris.
"The embassy has a car waiting for me," replied T'Challa. He pointed to a blue car in the parking lot. The suited driver stood patiently next to the vehicle.
"It's better that I take you down to the precinct," said Harris. "The driver can follow us."
"Thanks," said T'Challa. He went over to the embassy's car and told the driver of the situation. As instructed the driver acted normally with his head of state. Then T'Challa returned to Harris.
The trip to the 64th precinct was short and T'Challa took in as much of the city's atmosphere as he could.
"Did your sister have any enemies?" asked Harris while he turned his green Ford car onto a new street.
"No," replied T'Challa.
"Do you have any enemies?" asked Harris.
"No," replied T'Challa.
"Is this your first time in America?"
"Yes," answered T'Challa. He understood that the detective wanted to cover all possible angles in the case.
"Was your sister here legally?"
"Yes, as far as I know," replied T'Challa. He felt that the detective believed him.
"Where are you staying?"
"The embassy has put me in the Emmitt Hotel."
"I know where it is," said Harris.
"Who found the body?" asked T'Challa.
"A guy from area, he uses the ship yard as a short cut to get to his work."
"Will you catch her killer?" asked T'Challa.
Harris paused and then said, "I will."
T'Challa sensed that the detective was on the level with him. But T'Challa intended to find the killer on his own.
"To be honest I have not heard much about your country," said Harris.
"We are now slowly branching out to the wider world," said T'Challa. "I think the embassy was established two years ago."
At the precinct T'Challa noted the layout of the offices and where Harris kept Onika's case file. All the while, T'Challa's hyper senses bombarded him with information on the criminals and the officers in the precinct. He heard murmured swears, smelled fear on some of the criminals that passed in the corridors, and there was a thick foreboding feeling that swelled between the walls.
"Are you all right?" asked Harris. "You look a bit tense."
"I'm all right," replied T'Challa. His hyper senses were due to a ceremonial herb that altered his 'junk' DNA.
T'Challa signed a few documents and gave a statement to Harris.
"Have a safe trip to the hotel," said Harris.
"Thank you," said T'Challa.
Emmitt Hotel was in the medium price range. T'Challa didn't want to squander Wakanda's money on a luxury hotel. T'Challa had taken a room on the top floor. His five combination locked briefcases were tucked to the wall in the bedroom. He called the embassy to order the removal and preparation of Onika's body for the flight to Wakanda.
T'Challa took it upon himself as Wakanda's leader to find the murderer either with or without the police's help. He couldn't enter America as a head of state for his plan to work. The State Department would have tied him up in bureaucracy. He needed to do the job with stealth. He cried in the morgue because of how Onika was butchered. He remembered photographs of Onika that showed a bright twenty six- year- old.
In a way, T'Challa wanted to escape from becoming a king disconnected from the feelings of the common man. As a teenager he once purposefully lived in the violent and poor regions of Africa. He knew what hardship meant and wanted to alleviate it whenever possible.
He never did formal detective work. He planned the undertaking as he would a hunt in the savannahs of Wakanda. Find the prey's clues and follow them.
T'Challa peeled off the mask and he got ready for the night's activities. He called the embassy for two janitorial uniforms. He then unpacked the ceremonial and light body armour Black Panther suit. He placed the suit in a travelling bag and headed for the car. Onika's house was his destination.
An hour later, T'Challa stood in front of the suburban house on 24 Hampton Lane. T'Challa looked at the blank two storey structure that had a white porch.
She wanted to escape, thought T'Challa.
He remembered Onika's father stated that she left Wakanda to see the world. In essence she ran away from Wakanda. She lived in West Africa, the Far East and she then came to the United States.
"What did she want to escape from?" muttered T'Challa.
He opened the door with the house key taken from her belongings and entered. He went around the living room and the kitchen twice. There were no signs of forced entry. Then he went to the next floor. There were two bedrooms; one was unoccupied.
T'Challa entered the empty room anyway. He had to be thorough. He searched for hidden contraptions in the walls and in the floor. He found nothing.
The occupied bedroom was also devoid of hidden items. T'Challa went through the closets and anything else that may have contained something of importance to the case. Then he sat on the bed and pondered.
T'Challa noticed an oddity. Onika had no pictures of herself or any other person.
"She was alone," said T'Challa.
He went downstairs and there weren't any pictures there either. It was strange to him.
"She was totally cut off," T'Challa guessed. "But why?"
He went to the telephone and saw the notepad that had the father's phone number on it. That was how the police were able to trace the family.
Beneath the phone number were notes that dealt with the conversations with her father.
Probably for reference, thought T'Challa.
He went out to the back of the house and did an unsuccessful search. Then T'Challa left for the morgue and the precinct.
Chapter Two
In the soft moonlight of the ship yard, T'Challa used his hyper sense of sight and smell to analyze the scene. The police's chalk out was still on the area where the body was found. Harris's case file and the coroner's report gave T'Challa an idea of how Onika was killed.
The coroner's report stated that no bullets were recovered from the crime scene. It was believed that Onika was killed in the ship yard and not dumped there.
A possible bullet graze was on her left shoulder and it indicated that Onika ran away from her shooter.
"That's two missing bullet," muttered T'Challa.
The ship yard was the size of six football fields, enclosed and off the main road.
"A good place for hunting," said T'Challa.
Harris speculated that Onika's head was taken as a trophy and T'Challa concurred.
T'Challa followed the assumed trajectory of the fatal bullet. Harris's report stated forensics found no shells and they had searched the majority of the ground.
T'Challa went from where the body was found to the very end of the ship yard. His eyes caught the faint glint of an object in a rusty metal beam. He took a pen-like laser from his suit and sliced the object out of the beam.
"Ah," said T'Challa. He found the bullet.
The bullet was spire pointed and the end was carved out. T'Challa understood the meaning of the carving.
"Custom made," he said.
A custom made bullet was the same as any custom made weapon. T'Challa knew this intimately due to his exposure to many weapons from swords to guns. And most custom made weapons were created to be admired by the creator and anyone he wished to impress. T'Challa surmised the creator of the bullet would keep his admirers very exclusive.
The fact that bullet still had its original shape meant that it was the non-expanding type, and T'Challa felt that the casing was relatively very light.
He left the shipyard and headed for the embassy. When T'Challa arrived at the embassy he was presented with requested information from a computer analyst in his support team.
There were similar unsolved murders from London to Milan to Japan with the victims shot through the heart and later decapitated, whereas in the United States there were hundreds of such cases. Some of the murders took place on the same night.
"That's not much of a pattern," said T'Challa.
He hoped to find a serial killer of some kind or a reason other than that Onika was randomly snuffed out. Her death brought a family grief and changed everything forever. A proper explanation for her death was required for the family to have closure.
The situation reminded T'Challa of his father's assassination and the wave of change that it brought on him. An environment of emotional security was ripped to shreds and T'Challa faced the daunting task of being the man of the house and heir to the Black Panther clan when he had just entered his teenage years.
He asked the computer analyst to run a picture of the bullet against the products of all the bullet manufacturers in the world in the hope that something may come up. Even so, T'Challa expected better luck on the trace of the metals that constituted the bullet.
After a spectrum analysis on the bullet, T'Challa returned to the hotel with the projectile. He fell asleep with the bullet in his hand, and he dreamt about a headless corpse lying on a slab in a morgue.
He was awakened by instinct. The clock said five-o'clock. He placed the disguise on his face and headed for the embassy.
He was correct about the metals. One of the metals was a rare alloy that was sold to only a few businesses. Avan Arms Manufacturing Company Limited was one of the businesses.
"We'll start with that one," T'Challa told the analyst.
Later T'Challa ordered the embassy's security attaché to place surveillance on the head of Avan and his family. Ironically the family lived in Boston.
Then he went to the airport to accompany Onika's remains to Wakanda.
Chapter Three
"Good lord," said David Portman, the newly promoted Chairman and CEO of Avan.
His youngest brother Dave was slumped in the sofa apparently from a drug overdose. The second youngest brother Richard was in a chair.
"Good you came," said Richard. He lacked sleep and he was nervous.
"What happened here?" asked David, and he closed the front door.
"Dave murdered someone," replied Richard.
"What?" David asked.
He stared at Dave. The brother was a thick muscled man in his mid thirties. His was hair was short and black. He wore combat body armour and hunting boots.
"Come with me," said Richard. He walked briskly into the next room. David followed.
David stopped when he saw a woman's head on a table and next to it was Dave's samurai sword.
"Oh my God," said David.
The woman's eyes were wide open and they looked directly at him. The braided hair was sprawled on the table. David felt sick and saddened at the same time. He managed to walk out of the room.
"What are we going to do?" asked Richard.
"Stop, stop!" said David.
He bent and held his knees; trying to regain control of his senses. He was surprised that he even reacted in such a manner having seen numerous pictures of mutilated bodies due to wars. It was the shock that did him in like a blow to the face.
But he had to recover. This was a family crisis. His thoughts were on his parents. The situation would break their mother's heart.
Think, thought David. He was a CEO. He managed a mini crisis everyday. The first thing that one needs in crisis management was information.
David inhaled deeply. "All right," he said. He straightened and turned to Richard. "Tell me everything and don't leave out the slightest detail."
Richard cleared his throat and said, "I was calling Dave since the other day and didn't get any answer so I came up here. I met him just as you see him there. I woke him up and asked him what happened?
"He said that he felt alive for the first time and some other stuff that didn't make sense. Then he passed out. He has been waking up and falling back asleep since then."
David rubbed his forehead. At forty one years of age, a father of two and with an international company to run, he didn't need this kind of stress in his life.
"Did you tell anyone about this?" asked David.
"No. I swear," replied Richard.
David didn't have much to go on based on the information.
"Our first priority must be to protect mom and dad. They cannot have anything to do with this," said David.
"All right," said Richard.
"Then we'll get the lawyer," said David.
"The lawyer, are you serious?" asked Richard.
"This is a murder. For all we know the police might be outside the front door," said David.
Richard shivered. David saw the panic in his eyes. Murder meant life in prison.
"Just that they know that I had nothing to do with it," shouted Richard.
"Keep your voice down," said David.
Richard returned to his chair and buried his head in his hands.
David went to the telephone and called 911.
"Hello I want to report a murder," said David.
He heard Richard mutter, "Jesus Christ."
Chapter Four
T'Challa was at the home of Onika's father when news came of Dave's arrest. The father's name was Ngae. He was a bald fifty-five-year-old who spoke in a soft voice.
"I want you to do something for me my king," said Ngae.
"What is it?" asked T'Challa.
"I want the head of my daughter's killer on that table. Can you do that for me my king?" asked Ngae, and he pointed to a table that had an assortment of handcrafts on it.
T'Challa looked at him with non committed eyes.
"Depending on what I find then I will," said T'Challa.
"Thank you," said Ngae.
As T'Challa left the house he heard a telepathic voice in his head. The voice belonged to the unseen entity that dwelled in Wakanda.
"I don't like your present course of action," said the feminine voice.
"Bast one of my people has been murdered. I must avenge her," said T'Challa.
"The path that you are taking is darkening your spirit," warned Bast.
"I am the leader. I must ensure that my people are safe and I want to send a message that I can do it," said T'Challa.
"So this is about your pride," said Bast. "Your ancestors would not approve."
"This is not about my pride," said T'Challa.
"Then it's political. You are trying to keep in touch with the common man," said Bast.
"Are you reading my mind?" asked T'Challa.
"Of course," replied Bast. "T'Challa I have seen retribution after retribution in my long years. The people cry for blood like dogs of war and in the end everyone suffers."
"What do you want me to do?"
"You have to figure that out yourself young king. I'm just suggesting that you must consider all things thoroughly before charging head first every time a need for vengeance arises," replied Bast, and her voice disappeared.
T'Challa considered Bast's warning but the situation required his immediate action. He made arrangements for the preparation of a stealth mini jet for his flight to the United States.
Boston
Harris walked confidently into the interrogation room; he met a shackled Dave and a lawyer. A barely awake Dave leaned back causally in his chair. The high-end lawyer was more formal in body language. He reminded Harris of an eager guard dog.
Harris turned on the tape recorder that was on the table.
"Good evening gentlemen," said Harris.
"Good evening," said the lawyer.
Dave said nothing. He was looking blankly at the ceiling. Harris sat down in his chair and he rested his hand heavily on the table to catch Dave's attention. Slowly Dave's head craned forward and empty black eyes stared at Harris.
"Do you confess to the murder of Onika Tehaddiga?" asked Harris.
"Who?" Dave asked.
Years of experience made Harris keep his anger in check.
"Onika's severed head was found in your house. A sword with your fingerprints on it was found and her blood was on the blade," said Harris. "We pretty much have this case over and done with but the icing would be a sworn confession."
The guard dog lawyer leapt to defend his client.
"Mr. Portman does not have to give any confession if he doesn't want to," said the lawyer. "Also there is the issue that the woman in question may be an illegal alien."
Harris gave the lawyer an insolent stare. It practically asked how the lawyer could defend such scum?
The lawyer didn't flinch and took the disrespect in stride.
"I killed her," said Dave, and he closed his eyes.
The lawyer whispered in Dave's ear briefly.
"I don't care," said Dave to whatever was said.
Harris leaned back in his chair. "How did you get her?" he asked.
Dave opened his eyes, smiled a bit and then placed his hands on the table.
"I was driving around looking for someone and she was on sidewalk," replied Dave. "I stopped and asked her for directions. I took out a map and she came closer to the window then I zapped her with a taser.
"After that I carried her to the shipyard and setup my rifle. She woke up and I fired a single round at her. She didn't know where I was. Then she ran and ran. All the while I had her in my sights. I was one with her movements. She was like a deer. Then I shot her through the heart. I cut off her head as a souvenir. Whish." Dave made a quick arc with his finger.
Harris shot another insolent glance at the lawyer and the same question was asked.
"That would be all," said Harris.
He took off the recorder and left the room. He met the standing officer at the door.
"I got the confession. Lock up the son of a bitch," said Harris.
The officer quickly entered the room.
Harris hated psychopaths because justice could never really be served on them. They were too far gone in their little worlds that nothing on the outside could penetrate it. What was even sadder was that Harris didn't expect Dave to get the maximum sentence. The lawyer would probably get Dave into an asylum.
Harris heard a sound like a scuffle inside the room. Without thinking he opened the door and looked inside. The lawyer was slumped on the table with a bleeding wound to the temple. The officer was passed out on the floor.
A hard hand struck Harris's throat and knocked the breath out of him. In fleeting seconds he was disarmed and struck down to the floor. He looked around and saw boots. One of which struck him in the mouth. His hair was pulled back and he saw Dave's empty black eyes.
A moment later Harris's neck was snapped.
Chapter Five
David was at the home of the parents when he received the news of Dave's escape from police custody. He went to his father with the news.
"Dave killed two police officers and Jamerson," said David.
The patriarch folded his arms and took two steps in the bright sunshine that flowed through the window.
"It goes from bad to worse," said Thomas Portman.
David didn't want to bring up the past on the issue since it would serve no purpose than to aggravate his father. But the family had foreseen the present trouble. Dave had a secret history that was kept covered by being the son of an important man. There were 'accidents' that Dave had caused and he had harmed others. The busy Thomas Portman saw nothing wrong or sought not to do anything about his sick son.
I have to stop Dave, thought David.
There were a handful of places that Dave could find refuge. David knew of one in the New Hampshire Mountains. The brothers had hunted there once.
The telephone rang and David answered it. The police were on the line.
"I was going to call you. I know somewhere he might be going," said David.
The officer on the other end said something that surprised David. "Okay," he said in a mellow tone. "But I think you should-"
The officer ended the call. A disheartened David looked up at his father.
"The police have called for a manhunt. They believe based on an eyewitness that Dave may be headed for New York," said David.
"Dear lord," said Thomas.
"It's best we tell mom," said David.
"I'll do it," said Thomas.
As soon as Thomas left, David made a call to Chase Conrad, a close friend. Conrad ran a private mercenary company out of Maine. David hoped that he was available. He got through on the line.
"David. What's going on?" asked Conrad.
"Dave killed a police officer and the whole service is looking for him," replied David.
"They are going to want blood for losing one of their own," said Conrad.
"They don't know how to handle Dave. We do," said David.
"What do you have in mind?"
"There's a mountain cabin I think Dave may try to reach. I want you to go there and lay a trap for him," replied David.
"Not a problem."
"Then I want you to kill him."
"Are you serious?"
"You met Dave. You have seen what he is capable of."
"Yes I recall that encounter," said Conrad.
"Make the kill clean," said David.
"But he is your brother there might be another way," said Conrad.
"I'm doing him a favor by putting him out of his misery," said David.
"Okay. I'll do it."
"Thanks. This is the cabin's location," said David.
He found a map in the desk draw and told Conrad the coordinates. By the time Harris rested the receiver down his palms were sweaty and his adrenaline was up. He signed his brother's death warrant.
Chapter Six
At the embassy, T'Challa read David's telephone transcripts and made a decision. He was going to Dave's mountain cabin.
Somewhere in Massachusetts
Dave walked up to the man from behind and fired in two quick punches to the man's kidneys. The victim slumped to the side. Dave held up the man swiftly as not to draw suspicion in the car lot.
The car door was opened and Dave took the keys. He slipped the man into the backseat and broke his neck. Two quick glances outside the window and then Dave drove off.
He placed Harris's pistol in the passenger seat and turned on the radio to hear the news. Then he headed on the highway to his destination in New Hampshire.