Chapter Eleven: The Enemy Revealed
Casey sat on the couch watching a horror movie. It was a vampire movie that detective Danny Laughlin had rented for her called Dracula: The Ascension, and it was about a group of people who captured the lord of the vampires and held him prisoner. His captors confined poor Drac within a drained swimming pool, using sunlamps. The bloodsucker was unable to go outside, or even to move a muscle. And after spending a couple of days in protective custody, Casey could really feel for the guy. When Dracula finally broke free, Casey rooted for him. She reveled in the sight of the vampire attacking his captors, ripping their necks out, and—
'Jeez, I am really going crazy in here,' Casey thought, shaking her head.
She got up from the couch and walked around the room, feeling restless. Normally a very active person, Casey wasn't used to just sitting around the house all day. When she wasn't spending the day in court, she was in her office, and when she wasn't in the office, she was out exercising: either playing softball, or riding her bike or working out. What made this situation even worse was the fact that she was completely cut off from her job, which was practically her entire life.
The phone call earlier from Branch turned out to be very sweet. The District Attorney had called her just before noon and told her to turn on the local twelve o'clock news. When Casey did so, she saw an updated report about the sniper attack on her office. There was a shot of Branch giving a prepared statement regarding how the DA's office would not rest until the sniper was brought to justice. He made this statement at his desk, flanked by an army of ADAs, including Jack McCoy, Alexandra Borgia, Stephen Carver, Tracey Kibre, Kelly Gaffney and many others.
While Casey was deeply moved by this show of solidarity on behalf of her coworkers, it made her miss her job all the more. And no sooner was the news report over than she received a scare. The anchor cut in with breaking news about gunfire in the Canal Street Subway Station, and that NYPD detectives were involved. The reporter at the scene confirmed Casey's worst fears when she stated the detectives involved in the possible gunfight were from the Special Victim's Unit.
Casey, worried sick that Elliot might have been injured—or worse—abruptly went ballistic just then, demanding that Detective Danny Laughlin allow her to call Elliot. But Laughlin wouldn't allow her to do that, at least not with her own phone; for fear that it might be traced. After Casey raised holy hell, he finally compromised by allowing her to use his cell phone. There would be no reason for anybody to be tracing his cell, anyway.
Casey had gotten so worked up over Elliot being hurt that it never occurred to her that the news—not having the whole story—simply turned a molehill into a mountain in their insatiable quest for ratings. Yet while she felt silly, it was still a relief for Casey to hear Elliot's calm, confident voice on the phone. It was the first time he had spoken to her since last night, when he had to hurriedly get dressed before his relief arrived to take over from him.
Casey hated the fact that Elliot had to leave so abruptly soon last night, as if he were a secret lover who courted her only in clandestine meetings. It felt as if they were doing something wrong, like cheating on their spouses. She couldn't wait to have a real relationship with Elliot, where they could walk in the sunlight like real lovers. But for as long as she was a marked woman, as long as this sick maniac was on the loose, Casey would have to remain in hiding. She gloomily wondered if the day would ever come when she would be able to take a simple walk down the street without fearing for her life.
Sudden movement from the TV caught her attention, and when Casey glanced up, she saw Dracula putting the bite on Elizabeth, the main female character in the movie. Casey had grown to like Elizabeth, and was so annoyed at this turn of events that she blurted out "Oh no!"
Danny Laughlin came running into the living room, his hand on his holstered gun. "What's wrong?"
"Oh, um, Elizabeth got bit by the vampire," Casey said, as she sheepishly gestured at the TV. "Sorry, Danny. I guess I got carried away."
Danny let out a sigh as he nodded. "No problem, Ms. Novak."
She wondered if he was still angry with her for throwing such a hissy fit before. Casey decided to test the waters. "Feel free to call me Casey, Danny."
"Yes, Ms. Novak," Laughlin said tersely, as he went back into the kitchen.
'Oh, yeah, he's still pissed at me,' she thought with a slight nod. Casey was abruptly startled when she heard the sharp knock on the front door.
'Who the hell's that?' Casey wondered, as she anxiously got to her feet. Munch was her next scheduled babysitter, and yet he wasn't expected for another two hours.
Detective Laughlin quickly came back in and gestured at Casey, indicating he wanted her to stay right where she was. Keeping one hand on his holstered Glock, he looked through the peephole. "It's ok," he told her, opening the door. "It's Detective Benson."
Olivia entered the house with three uniformed officers, all from the One-Six.
"What happened?" Casey excitedly asked. She hoped Olivia would tell her that they caught the sniper and Elliot was presently throttling him in an interrogation room at the precinct and she was finally free to leave this place and go out and do her job and live her life. Just like Dracula, Casey would gleefully make her escape.
At least, that was what Casey wanted to hear. Instead, her hopes for freedom were dashed once Olivia explained the situation: "It looks like the sniper's been actively trying to find out where you are. So we're moving you someplace else, just to be on the safe side."
"How has he been trying to find me?" Casey asked.
"It looks like he might have been trying to tail us, in order to find out where you are," Olivia replied dismally. "That's why we ran across him earlier today."
Fear made Casey feel cold all over. She instinctively crossed her arms in front of her chest and backed away from Olivia. Her first instinct was to run for her life. But Casey had to sickening feeling that no matter where she ran to, this sniper bastard would be there waiting for her. "This guy really wants me," she whispered fearfully, "doesn't he?"
Olivia glanced at one of the uniforms and said, "Ronnie, start gathering Ms. Novak's things, would you?"
Ronnie nodded, and gestured for the other cops to go with him.
Olivia then came over to Casey. "Look, he may be determined to find you, but we're just as determined to protect you, Casey. And if he's dumb enough to show his face tonight, I'll put a bullet in it."
"Thanks, Olivia," Casey said softly. Then her eyes grew wide when she heard the uniforms were all in the bedroom. "Uh, wait a minute…."
She went in and found the uniforms were packing her clothes into the suitcase. One of them, Ronnie, opened the dresser drawer containing her underwear.
"Ok, thanks guys," Casey said, as she nudged her way in-between Ronnie and her underwear. "I'll take it from here."
Olivia shook her head in disgust at Ronnie. "When I said move her stuff, I meant books, knick-knacks, and what-not! Not her clothes!"
"All right, all right, all right," Ronnie muttered as he left the room with the other cops. They all had the air of three ashamed little boys who had been caught doing something bad.
When they were alone in the bedroom, Casey started packing her stuff into the suitcase. "Sorry for being so fussy, but—"
"Oh no, I understand," Olivia said. "Besides, the only man who should see your underwear is the one whom you love, right?"
That remark made Casey cease packing. She smiled shyly at Olivia and said, "I guess you now know about Elliot and me…."
Olivia's response to that was this broad grin that slowly spread out across her face. She simply nodded at Casey, her bemusement reflected within her dark feline-like eyes. "And I couldn't be happier for the both of you."
Once she was packed, Casey went for a long and elaborate ride with Olivia and the other police officers. It wasn't enough to drive straight over to the new safe house; they had to make sure they weren't being followed. Casey was driven via a car to a garage, where she got into a van. She rode in the van for a while, until they arrived at an indoor parking lot…where she got into yet another van. That drive lasted about a half an hour, ending when they pulled into a private garage. This was the safe house.
A uniformed officer remained with Casey in the garage while Olivia, Laughlin and the uniforms checked out the safe house. Casey had to admit that, in spite of whatever underlying tension they had between them, she was extremely grateful to have Olivia here with her. Having a familiar face with her made this awkward and frightening experience bearable.
Once the safe house was given the all clear, the uniforms left while Danny Laughlin went out to get some groceries. Casey finally got to see her new 'home' for the time being. Unlike her first safe house, this place was actually a house. It was a one-story ranch-style structure with a view of the woods in the back yard. The décor was pretty bland, but at least there was a little more room here than she had before.
"We're still in New York State?" Casey asked Olivia.
"We're in Long Island." Olivia pointed at the woods beyond the windows. "I'm told the beach is just out past those trees, but I wouldn't advise you leaving the house at all."
"Don't worry about that," Casey said. "With my luck the way it's been lately, if I went for a swim, Jaws would probably be waiting for me in the water."
Casey was surprised to see Olivia laugh gently at her remark. "Did you hear about Beauchamp?" she asked.
"Yes, that's great news! Those tapes should put him away for a very long time." Casey felt a pang of regret when she realized that she might not be the one who prosecuted Beauchamp. "Did Branch give you guys another ADA yet?"
Olivia nodded. "Her name's Borgia. She seems nice enough, and competent, but I miss you."
Casey was deeply touched by that last comment. But before she could reply, Laughlin returned with the groceries, and she and Olivia got busy helping him put the stuff away in the kitchen. Once they were done, Laughlin bid them a good night and left.
Olivia and Casey stood uneasily in the kitchen for a moment, until Casey said, "So, you're my babysitter tonight, huh?"
"Cragen switched the duty roster, in the hopes of further confusing the sniper." She grew thoughtful for a second. "Listen, Casey, I've been meaning to apologize. I recall we got into a pretty vicious fight just before your office was fired on, and I said some really terrible things to you."
Casey shook her head. "It's already been forgotten, Olivia. Don't worry about it."
"But you were right," Olivia told her. "When you said that you didn't believe Linda Beauchamp was involved in the rapes, you were right on the money, Casey. She wasn't involved. And she was so outraged when she found out what Beauchamp was actually doing that she nearly shot him dead. You were right and I was wrong. I just wanted to clear the air about that."
"Thanks, Olivia," Casey said. "I really appreciate it."
"One other thing," Olivia said. "All of my friends—my close friends—call me Liv. I expect you to do the same from now on, ok?"
As if Casey hadn't already been taken aback by Olivia's kindness, this last act almost floored her. She was so choked up she was literally at a loss for words. She nodded, trying hard not to burst into tears.
Olivia glanced down at the floor. "Um, I've been told, by a very good source, that I've been somewhat bitchy with you in the past. I'd just like to wipe the slate clean and start over, if I could. So how about if we just start fresh from here on. Ok?"
"Of course," Casey replied with relief. "That would be great, Liv." She smiled. "This source, would that have been Elliot?"
"Yep."
"Did he tell you about us?"
"Yeah, but only after I applied the proper pressure," Olivia said with a grin.
Casey burst into giggles at the thought of her strong, masculine Elliot caving in to Olivia. "What? Did you threaten to shoot him if he didn't tell you?"
"Oh no, you just have to know what buttons to push with him," Olivia said mischievously. "Hell, you work with somebody for six years and you learn all kinds of tricks of how to manipulate them."
"I'm going to have tea," Casey said. "Would you like some? And maybe you can tell me some of these tricks?"
"Certainly," Olivia replied, as she removed her jacket and placed it on the back of the chair. "Just don't tell Elliot I told you."
"My lips are sealed," Casey said, as she glanced at the box of tea with a smile. "Great! Danny remembered that I liked green tea!"
SVU Squadroom. The One Six. Two Hours Earlier.
John Munch sat glaring at his desk. It wasn't that he was angry at this particular piece of furniture; it was just that Munch had the annoying feeling that, when it came to the sniper, they were missing a major piece of the puzzle.
Olivia had just left; she was going to get Casey settled in the new safe house. Alex Eames had already headed back to the MCS squad room. The other two women named Alex, Borgia and Norton, were still in Cragen's office, shooting daggers at each other with their eyes, while the Captain acted as sort of a reluctant referee. Munch swore that if looks could kill, the lawyers would have decapitated each other a long time ago.
'Where does somebody like this guy, this sniper, come from?' Munch asked himself. 'Usually, if it's a mob assassin, he'll come up through the ranks. But some of the best assassins have been ex-soldiers who hire themselves out for freelance jobs. The mob likes to use them, because they usually make themselves scarce after a hit, thus making it harder to trace back to them.'
Munch leaned forward in his chair when another idea struck him. 'The government also uses military personnel for assassinations—or what the CIA so eloquently calls 'special ops', which is nothing more than a blanket term to cover all sorts of grisly deeds.'
Munch picked up the phone and dialed a specific number, one that he never wrote down, but always kept memorized. He waited for the phone to ring on the other end. He let it ring four exact times.
Then Munch hung up. He sat back and waited.
After thirty seconds, his phone rang.
"Hello?" Munch asked, answering the phone. "Munch."
"What do you want?" a man asked.
"What else?" Munch said. "I want a meeting."
"When?"
"As soon as possible."
There was a pause on the other end. Then: "Same place, in an hour?"
"Got it."
When Munch hung up the phone, he glanced over and saw that Elliot, who was seated at his desk, was staring at him strangely. "What the hell was that all about?" Elliot asked.
"Just setting up a meeting with an informant of mine," Munch said, as he got up and put on his suit jacket.
Fin stood brewing another pot of coffee. "Is that the spook dude?"
"For lack of a better term, yes," Munch said.
"You think he might know something about our sniper?" Elliot asked.
"That's what I'm going to find out," Munch replied, as he headed to Cragen's office. He knocked on the door, and then opened it.
"Frankly I'd love to see what kind of defense you're going to put up against the overwhelming evidence we have," Borgia said to Norton. "I'm sure that'll be real entertaining to watch!"
Cragen sat at his desk with the bored to tears look of a man who really did not want to be where he was right then. When Munch stuck his head inside the office, Cragen perked up considerably, as if welcoming the interruption. "Yes, John?"
"Just want to let you know that I'll be out meeting with an informant," Munch told him. "I'll be back shortly."
Cragen nodded. "All right. Take as long as you need."
Munch shut the door and crossed the squad room towards the door. He was halfway across the room when he noticed Fin was following him.
"Can I come, too?' Fin asked.
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"Pretty please?"
"NO!" Munch spun around to face Fin. "Look, no offense, but this 'spook dude' is kind of a paranoid guy, ok? I always meet with him alone."
"Yeah, ok," Elliot said into the phone. After he hung up, he added, "Warner's got something that she wants to show us. Since Olivia's out with Casey, you can ride with me, Fin."
"Yeah, all right," Fin said with a disappointed sigh. He gave Munch a hard look. "You go meet James Bond, I'm riding with Elliot."
"And I hope you're both very happy together," Munch said sarcastically.
"Keep me out of your little lovers' spats, ok?" Elliot jokingly said, as he put his suit jacket on.
Munch left the precinct house and drove over to Central Park. He parked the car, and strode up a peaceful walkway. The trees were still bare, looking like claws that reached up towards the darkening skies.
Mr. NSA sat on a bench that overlooked a pond. He was alone, reading a newspaper. He looked to be forty something, with thinning grayish hair and a permanent hang dog expression on his face. He was clad in rumbled clothing that consisted of jeans, a New York Knicks sweatshirt, and an overcoat. To look at him, with his granny glasses hanging off the tip of his nose, a casual observer would guess that he was an out of work accountant. They would never realize that he was in fact a master spy with well over twenty years of service with the National Security Agency.
Munch first met Mr. NSA back when he worked homicide in Baltimore, during the murder case of a hooker that caught the attention of the NSA. The hooker turned out to be one of their undercover agents. While working on the case, Munch discovered that Mr. NSA was also a huge fan of the late, great Lone Gunmen newsletter, which reported on the various conspiracies of the government before it mysteriously went silent; he soon realized that Mr. NSA was one spy who didn't always toe the company line. They became fast friends during the investigation, and since those days, Mr. NSA had proven himself to be a valuable ally with tips and advice that he'd given Munch regarding various cases over the years.
Munch took a seat on the bench next to Mr. NSA.
Mr. NSA flicked the newspaper in his hands and said, "You think the Red Sox will do it again this year, Munch?"
"I didn't meet with you just to talk baseball," Munch told him. "What do you know about the sniper attack on the Manhattan DA's office?"
"Only that it wasn't a terrorist attack, or else we'd be involved in the investigation."
"How do you know that?"
"We checked out the usual suspects, and nobody had anything cooking." He frowned at Munch. "I thought you were with sex crimes, now. How did you catch this one?"
"Casey Novak, whose office was shot at, is our ADA," Munch said. "She's also a close friend of mine who now is in protective custody, in fear for her life, thanks to this bastard. We caught a break that allowed us to be the primaries in the investigation."
"What break was that?"
"Before he fired on Casey, the sniper shacked up with a woman, he tried to rape her, but when she tried to escape, he had to kill her. My partner and I caught that case, and that was how the SVU was officially able to get involved."
Mr. NSA pulled off his glasses and stared at Munch with wide eyes. "This woman the sniper shacked up with, was she bound with duct tape?"
Munch stared back at him, stunned. "Yeah."
"Was she an Asian woman?"
"She was Chinese-American."
"Did you find any marks on her?" Mr. NSA asked. "Like from a needle, or a…?"
"Our medical examiner thinks it was some kind of a tranquilizer dart," Munch replied, his stomach shrinking into a tight icy knot of fear. "We think he shot her with the dart, knocking her out, then he bound her with the tape."
"Oh, good Christ," Mr. NSA said softly.
"What?" Munch frantically asked. "What is it?"
"I think I may know who this guy is, John," he said quietly.
Medical Examiner's Office.
"And that's just the thing," Warner said. "He used a tranquilizer dart on Lu and Verges, but it wasn't the standard type dart they'd use in a zoo. If you'd use that on a human, it might wind up killing them."
"Because the dart's too big?" Fin asked.
"It's the dosage," Warner told him. "Your sniper would have to have the precise dosage to safely sedate a human being with a dart like this."
Elliot nodded. "That would require a smaller dart, a specially designed one?"
"Pretty much," Warner said grimly. "This doesn't sound like your regular Mafia hit man. You know, from what I've been hearing and finding out about this guy so far, he's sounding pretty scary."
"Yeah," Elliot said. "You're not the first person to say that very same thing today." His cell phone started ringing. "Excuse me."
He stepped away from the autopsy table, where Fin and Warner resumed their conversation. Elliot put the phone to his ear and said, "Stabler."
"Hello Elliot," a man's voice said. "It's good to speak to you again."
The tiny hairs on the back of Elliot's neck began to stand up. He recognized this voice. "Who is this?"
"Oh, Elliot, I'm shocked," the man said, his voice filled with a gentle mocking tone. "After all these years, you've forgotten your old friend. Rest assured, I haven't forgotten you. I must say you gave me quite a run for my money earlier today. Literally! You'll never know just how close you were to catching me in that alleyway."
"Oh sweet Jesus," Elliot whispered, stunned.
Both Fin and Warner ceased their conversation and glanced sharply at him. "Elliot," Fin quietly asked, "what's wrong?"
Elliot gestured at his cell phone. "It's the sniper!" he said, sotto voce.
"And you'll never know just how close you came to dying the other day," the sniper continued. "I had you in my sights, you stupid bastard. I was going to just blow you away until I saw you talking with your little sweetie pie, Casey Novak. That was when I realized that killing you outright was too good for you, Elliot. You would have gotten off way to easy. No, it's far better to make you suffer first. Having fun, yet? Well, I'm just getting started. Semper fi, baby."
The call was cut off. Even though he knew it to be a futile attempt, Elliot still glanced at his cell screen to see if there was a caller ID, but he saw only "Not Available." But he knew who it was. He recognized the voice, even after all these years, and those last three words, 'Semper fi, baby,' they cinched it for him. He finally knew who the sniper was, and it turned out to be one of the last people on earth whom he would ever suspect.
Warner took a step towards him and gently grabbed his arm. "Maybe you'd better sit down."
"She's right," Fin added. "You don't look too good."
"That's because I've just been speaking to a dead man," Elliot said.
"Who?" Fin asked. "The sniper?"
"Yeah, his real name is Eddie," Elliot said softly, as the old memories came racing back to him. "Eddie Lister."
Central Park.
"Edward Thomas Lister," Mr. NSA said. "Know the name?"
Munch shook his head. "Can't say I have. Who is he?"
"You ever hear of a group called Spec-Op-For, John?"
"Of course, the Special Operations Force. It's a branch within the NSA that recruits military personnel into black ops, doing wet work missions."
Mr. NSA smiled. "Wet work? Is that what they're calling the fine art of assassination these days?"
"Is that who this Edward Lister is?" Munch asked. "An assassin?"
"One of the best. He was recruited out of the Marines a while back, and worked the Pacific Rim until about five years ago."
"What happened?"
"He got captured by the North Koreans. He was sent to their capital Pyong-yang on a special assignment, a hit. But he never carried it out and promptly vanished. When we discreetly tried to find out what happened, we discovered that he never did the hit because he got captured after raping and killing two North Korean women. The M.O. was the same as with your murder. Apparently Mr. Lister had a predilection for that sort of thing, because there were also a series of similar rape-murders, with the exact same M.O. as Lister's, all over the Pacific Rim region, and once he was captured by the North Koreans, these rape-murders abruptly stopped."
"Good god," Munch whispered.
Mr. NSA nodded grimly. "Yeah. He was a real sick puppy. Once we found out what he had been doing, the decision was made to leave him where he was. Let him rot."
"So how can he be out, now? He escaped?"
"Either that, or the North Koreans deliberately let him go."
"Why?"
"To do exactly what he's doing right now, Munch, raising havoc on the streets of a major American city. Of course, since we have no real evidence of how he got out of North Korea, we can't prove this."
"Yet he is here," Munch said thoughtfully. "And he's got to be after Elliot."
Mr. NSA stared in puzzlement at Munch. "Who?"
"Elliot Stabler, he works with me at the One-Six. He was in Casey's office when the sniper fired on it. And before he joined the NYPD, he was in the Marines. He might have known Lister."
Captain Cragen's Office. The One Six.
"I knew him in the Marines," Elliot said, as he stood in Cragen's office. Cragen, Fin, Huang, Borgia and Senior ADA Jack McCoy all stood listening to him with rapt attention. "I met him during basic training on Parris Island. He seemed like an ok kid. A little on the gung-ho side, though, but he was one of the best marksmen in our company."
Elliot recalled the easy laugh that Eddie Lister had; it was a rollicking, infectious laugh that got everybody in the room rolling with it no matter what their mood was. Little did he realize then that that good humor had been nothing but a mask that hid the real Eddie Lister.
"My company was stationed in South Carolina, we were getting ready to leave for the Gulf War," Elliot continued. "And a group of us had managed to score some R&R. We had a two-day pass, and Eddie says he wants to go off by himself for a while. Well, the pass is about up, and we have to get back to the ship, and there's still no sign of Eddie. So I go to this flea-bag hotel, where he said he would be, to try and find him. And I do find him…only he's in a room with this woman, she was a local girl." Elliot shook his head at the memory of what he saw. "He had beaten this poor girl within an inch of her life. She just lay there, with both of her eyes swollen shut—I don't think she even knew we were there. Eddie just starts laughing and jokes about how he forgot the time."
He remembered how Eddie burst into his trademarked hyena laugh—as if the sight of him with a half dead woman on the bed was the most natural thing in the world—and he had said, "Time flies when you're having fun, eh, Elliot? Give me a sec, I just gotta finish her off, and then we'll be out of here."
Elliot watched in horror then as Eddie reached down and grabbed the unconscious woman by the head.
"He was going to snap her neck," Elliot told the group before him in Cragen's office. "He was going to kill her as casually as somebody kills a bug."
"What did you do?" Cragen asked.
"I stopped him," Elliot replied. "It wound up being a knock-down, drag-out fight, but I stopped him cold, and then I turned him in. The girl went to the hospital; she later recovered from the beating he gave her."
"What did the military authorities do with Lister?" McCoy asked.
"They were gonna try him for attempted murder," Elliot said. "But, a week later, they were taking Eddie to a Naval base for arraignment when the helicopter he traveled in went down in an accident. He and all aboard were reported killed. That's why I never even thought about him as being a suspect in all of this. Because all of this time, I thought he was dead."
"Until now, when he calls you right out of the blue," Cragen said.
"It sounds like he probably got sucked into some kind of secret black ops project," Fin said. Then he shook his head. "Man, I've been hanging around Munch for too long…."
"It's obvious now what his motive is," Huang said. "Vengeance, plain and simple. He may blame you for whatever he perceives has gone wrong with his life."
"He blames me because I turned him in for nearly killing that woman?" Elliot said, annoyed. "What was I supposed to do, pat him on the back and say, 'Good job'?"
"In his twisted mind, Elliot, that may have been precisely what he expected of you," Huang told him. "We're not dealing with a rational person here."
"That's putting it mildly," Elliot muttered. "Eddie Lister was a full-blown psychopath when I first knew him. And God only knows how far gone he is now."
"Well, rest assured your wife and children are now under full police protection," Cragen told him.
'Poor Kathy,' Elliot thought with an inward cringe. 'Even when she leaves me, she still isn't safe from this bullshit.'
"All right," McCoy said with a heavy sigh. "I must confer with Branch about this. If Edward Lister is involved in some kind of government black op project, then maybe the federal government will be so kind to give us a hand in apprehending him, or at least give us some more information that will help us capture him." He glanced at Elliot and added, "And as of this moment, Detective Stabler, you're off this case."
Central Park.
Mr. NSA leaned forward in his seat, looking very thoughtful. "You know, we were bracing ourselves for when Lister returned to the States. We'd figured he'd try gunning for the NSA brass in Washington, but apparently he wasn't that stupid. We never thought he'd come after his old Marine buddy. But still…this may tie in with something that happened here recently."
"What was that?" Munch asked.
"About a week ago, somebody hacked into the NYPD database," Mr. NSA said. "I was called in as an advisor on the investigation, thanks to a buddy of mine in the FBI. We were never able to determine who broke in, or what classified information was compromised, but in light of recent events, it looks like a prime suspect has come up."
"It could have been Lister. He could have been checking out Elliot's personnel file." Munch shuddered as a very frightening thought arose within his mind. "You said you didn't know what information within the NYPD database had been exposed to the hacker, right?"
"Right," he confirmed. "The hacker, assuming it was Lister, could have gained knowledge to just about anything concerning all NYPD operations."
"Including a list of all of the NYPD safe houses in the tri-state area?" Munch asked in a whisper.
Mr. NSA's face was ashen. "Sweet Jesus, John. You'd better move Novak quickly. Because Lister may know exactly where she is."
Captain Cragen's Office. The One Six.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Elliot angrily asked.
Cragen held up a hand. "Easy, Elliot."
"I'm sorry, Detective," McCoy said. "This decision has no bearing on your skills as a cop, which are exemplary. But even you can see that this case has become far too personal for you. In fact, if anybody ought be in protective custody right now, it should be you."
When Cragen's phone began to ring, he answered it.
"Look, I know this guy," Elliot said to McCoy. "I've dealt with him before. I'm the sole expert on Eddie Lister here, so you need me now more than ever in this investigation."
"All due respect, but you originally thought Eddie Lister was dead, detective," McCoy shot back. "And the man whom you speak of is someone you knew well over twenty years ago. People can change in that amount of time."
Elliot waved a finger at him. "You don't know what the—"
"John!" Cragen shouted into the phone. "John, wait! Let me put you on speaker phone."
"Munch got something?" Fin asked.
"Oh boy, has he got something," Cragen muttered, as he switched on the speaker phone. "Go ahead, John."
"The guy you're looking for is Edward Thomas Lister," Munch's voice said through the speaker. "He was recruited out of the Marines by the NSA into their Special Operations Force program, Spec-Op-For for short. Basically, he's an assassin working for the government—or he was, until he got captured by the North Koreans. Apparently Mr. Lister has been killing women on the side, and that was how the North Koreans caught him, after he murdered two women in the exact same manner as Jeanne Lu."
'Good lord,' Elliot thought with a sad shake of his head. 'What kind of monster have you become, Eddie?'
"Elliot knew him in the Marines, John," Cragen said. "He has history with this guy."
"I figured that," Munch said. "But, Cap, please listen to me. My informant says that the NYPD computer database was hacked into about a week ago. It may have been Lister, we don't know, but if it was, then Lister knows the location of every NYPD safe house in the tri-state area."
"Good God," McCoy muttered, as he exchanged a horrified glanced with Borgia.
"Then he knows where Casey is," Elliot said, as he grew cold all over. "And Olivia is with her now."
While everyone around him began speaking at once, Elliot pulled out his cell phone and dialed Olivia's number. 'Answer, Liv,' he thought desperately, as he listened to the phone ring, 'please answer me….'
Five Minutes Earlier
Casey smiled as she sat back in her chair at the kitchen table. "This guy sounds really nice, Liv."
"Yeah, like I've said, he's very, very…understanding!"
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
Olivia regarded her empty teacup. "No, it's not. I don't know, I guess I'm becoming too cynical. Eric and I never really had a chance to get to know each other very well, and I'm still afraid that—once I finally get together with him—I'll find out that he has some kind of deep dark secret, or something."
Casey frowned. "You're getting that 'weirdo' vibe from him?"
"No, not really. You see he's invited me over to his house, where he wants to show me something. That's all he's been talking about for the last few days, how he wants to show me something. He won't tell me what it is, all he says is that he must show it to me once I'm in his house." Olivia shrugged. "I like surprises as much as the next woman, but this is sounding a little too cryptic for my taste."
"You sure what he wants to show you isn't in his pants?" Casey asked, point blank.
Olivia gave Casey a look of shock. "You know, I still remember when you first joined our squad, back when you were such a sweet little girl."
"I don't think I was ever a sweet little girl," Casey retorted.
"Don't kid yourself." Olivia excused herself when her cell phone rang. "Elliot!" she said, when she answered. "Did you know that we were just talking about—"
Casey glanced up from her tea and saw Olivia now had a somber mood as she listened intently.
"Oh shit," Olivia whispered. "Uh, yeah, look, I know where this motel is, so how about we meet you there? I don't want to stay here any longer than we have to. Yeah, ok."
Casey's hand was shaking slightly as she placed her teacup back on the table. There was something very wrong, that was obvious, but she struggled to keep a lid on her panic. She was going to remain calm, no matter what. Still, she glanced at all the windows, and was glad to see the curtains had been drawn on all of them. A sniper can't shoot what he can't see.
Olivia ended the call, got up from the table and said, "We're leaving now."
Casey also got up. She quickly slipped her shoes back on. "What is it?"
"The sniper, they know who he is," Olivia said. "It's some guy whom Elliot served with in the Marines. Apparently El was the target all along."
"He was actually shooting at Elliot?" Casey said, stunned. A part of her had felt instantly relieved that she had not been the target after all. Yet Casey still felt tremendous concern for Elliot. "How is he?"
"Elliot's fine, but there's another problem, it appears the sniper may know the location of all of the NYPD safe houses in the area, including this one. That's why we gotta get out of here right now."
"But if his real target's Elliot…" Casey started to say.
Olivia reached out and gently grasped Casey by her shoulders. "Lister, the sniper, is trying to get to Elliot through the people he cares about."
"Oh God," Casey whispered. The oppressive fear she felt made her blood run cold. "I-I'll go pack…"
"Leave everything," Olivia said. "Just take your coat."
"Done," Casey said, as she picked up her coat from the back of the chair and put it on. "Let's go."
Olivia shrugged on her jacket, removed her Glock from its holster, and gestured for Casey with her free hand. "C'mon."
Casey walked out of the kitchen with Olivia's hand on the nape of her neck the entire time. They quickly made their way through the house to the garage.
When Casey reached out to turn on the interior garage light, Olivia whispered, "No, keep it dark."
They crossed over to the doorway next to the main garage door. Opening the door, Casey saw that night had fallen, and in this suburban neighborhood without streetlights, the darkness was overwhelming. The surrounding woods, which looked so lovely earlier in the light of day, now appeared as a menacing wall of blackness against the starry sky. There were no other houses in the area that Casey could see. Casey could not help but note the irony that the very same isolation that originally made this safe house secure now worked against them.
"I should have moved the car into the garage earlier," Olivia whispered. "Shit…."
The squad car was barely five feet away from the doorway in which they stood. But the car was enveloped within the all-consuming darkness, and in that darkness was Lister. Casey didn't know how she knew, but deep down she sensed him out there, somewhere, watching her. And if he truly was out there, with his gun trained on them, then the mere five feet that separated them from the car may have well been five miles.
Staying in the doorway, Olivia made a sweep of the front lawn with her Glock, and then shook her head. "I don't like this…."
"I think there's someone out there," Casey said in a frightened whisper.
"I think you're right," Olivia replied. "Screw this, let's get back inside."
They shut the door and leaned up against it. "Elliot told me that the state police, along with the local boys, are coming," Olivia said, as she holstered her Glock. "So why don't we just wait for them right here, ok?"
"I really like that plan, Liv."
"I'm going to go close that door," Olivia said. "Stay here."
"Ok."
Olivia went over to the doorway that connected the garage to the rest of the house—
—and let out a startled cry of pain.
"LIV!" Casey screamed.
She ran over to the doorway, only to get knocked to the floor when something fell against her. It turned out to be Olivia.
Casey sat up on the floor and cradled the detective in her arms. At first Casey thought she was dead, until she checked Olivia's pulse and found it to be steady. Olivia was out cold. When her hand brushed up against something on Olivia's neck, Casey saw what appeared to be some kind of dart protruding from her skin.
Then Casey realized that she could SEE everything. She glanced up and saw the overhead light was on.
'Who the hell turned on the lights?' she wondered fearfully.
Casey slowly gazed over her shoulder.
The man who strode into the garage was dressed in all black. Casey couldn't see his face until he removed the night vision goggles from his eyes. He hung the goggles around one wrist as he casually stood staring at her. He was white, with black hair that was cut close to his head, and a goatee. But it was his eyes that caught Casey's attention: they were dead, soulless, and unblinking. When he stared at her, his gaze penetrated through her very core.
'The gun,' a small voice cried at the back of her mind, cutting through Casey's stark terror, 'get the gun!'
Casey glanced down at Olivia's prone form, and saw her Glock, which was in her hip holster. She abruptly grabbed it with both hands—
—just as something slammed into the side of her neck, knocking her over.
The pain was intense, and unbearable…until it abruptly subsided. When Casey opened her eyes, she realized that she now lay flat on her back on the floor. The light in the ceiling had a strange halo floating around it.
'The gun,' she thought, her mind feeling as if it were in a fog. 'I gotta get that gun!'
But she couldn't move her arms. In fact, Casey couldn't feel anything. She lay there, helpless, as the man's shadowy form stood over her body.
"Please," Casey weakly pleaded with him, "please, don't…."
The man hunched down over her. "Sleep my little princess," he said, his voice oddly gentle. "Go to sleep now."
That was the last thing Casey heard before the blackness consumed her.
To Be Continued...