WHITEOUT: Above And Beyond (Beauty 0f Life Book 10)
Whiteout
Above and Beyond
Beauty of Life
Book Ten
Laura Acton
Copyright © 2019 by Laura Acton
All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise except for use of brief quotations in a book review.
ISBN: 978-1-951713-00-3 (paperback)
ISBN: 978-1-951713-01-0 (ebook)
Whiteout: Above and Beyond is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Beyond Tomorrow poem © 2019 by Laura Acton and Jerrell J. Ferguson
Three Fates Publishing
Chandler, Arizona, U.S.A.
By Laura Acton
Beauty of Life series:
Forsaken: On the Edge of Oblivion
Solace: Behind the Shield
Belonging: Hope, Truth, and Malice
Outlier: Blood, Brotherhood, and Beauty
Purgatory: Bonds Forged in Hellfire
Serenity: A Path Home
Guardians: Mission to Rescue Innocence
Secrets: Passion, Deceit, and Revenge
Outcast: Trust, Friendship, and Injustice
Whiteout: Above and Beyond
Acknowledgments
Kate, Martha, and Lisa,
thank you for going above and beyond!
Your continued support and skills are greatly appreciated.
Jim, I’ve loved your poetry for decades.
I enjoyed collaborating with you on the poem.
Your word kaleidoscopes always evoke an emotional response.
Contents
Consumed by Flames
Stress Cracks and Support Systems
Echoes from the Past
Cervezas and Amigos
Sniper’s Ballad
Appearances Can Be Deceiving
Safety Nets
Not a Bad Idea
Lancing the Wound
The Rack
Déjà Vu
Paying It Forward
Good Deed in a Weary World
Cultivating Friendships
Wrangling Mud Puppies
Little Piece of Heaven
When Snow Bunnies Attack
Snowstorm of the Century
Fire, Scotch, Duct Tape, and Stew
Stay Safe and Warm
Snowy Afternoon with Family
Heart-to-Heart
Holding a Gossamer Thread
Battling for Daniel
For Love of Family
Scott’s Lucky Day
The Great Escape
Unexpected Help
Catching Butterflies
Dispelling the Darkness
All Is Not What It Seems
Loki’s Prize and Odd Vibe
Bright Ideas Gone Wrong
Threat Assessments
Half-Truths and Fake Smiles
We Have A Problem
Strategies
Eye of the Storm
Game On
Tacticians and Caretakers
Keeping Faith
Stark Realities
Out of Patience
Faces of Courage
One Is Enough
Murderous Rage
Searching for Survivors
No Rest for the Weary
Silver Lining
No Greater Love
Between Hearts
Dreams, Angels, and Reality
Anything for a Friend
Everyday Heroes
The Extra Mile
Sneak Peek: BREAKPOINTS Slow Spiral Down
Sneak Peek: ZULU SIX
About the Author
Whiteout
Above and Beyond
Consumed by Flames
1
September 23
Rooftop Across from Whitehall Financial – 1:40 p.m.
Eyes locked on his scope, smoky haze obscuring his vision, Constable Dan Broderick held his breath as unwanted memories crashed in, whiting out the world around him. Ungodly screams so familiar, yet different, filled the air. Lungs burning from lack of oxygen, his body forced him to take a ragged breath. Reality slammed back in on Dan as did voices hollering commands, sirens, and the crackle of the fiery monster across the street.
Another breath in and out, his sight took in the blaze engulfing the Whitehall building. Lying on his stomach, shoulder butted against the stock of his sniper rifle, Dan lowered his head, resting his forehead on his arm as tears welled. He needed a moment to pull himself together and affix his post-shoot mask before he packed up his Remi and headed down to the turmoil below.
He registered none of his team calling for status, a factor which scared the hell out of him. They all must be as screwed up by the terrible ending of this call as he. The Nonpartisan Review Board would have a field day. Nothing went as expected … everything went to hell in a heartbeat.
After several more cathartic breaths, Dan rose to his knees and began to pack up. The billowing steam created as the fire crew put out the flames, wafted in his direction on the breeze of the first day of autumn. The dampness combined with the colder than usual September day caused Dan to shiver. If necessary, he would deflect and blame the tremors on the climate and not memories of another horrifying day in September three years ago.
Dan stood and slung his rifle case over his shoulder. He peered down at the ordered chaos, wishing he could whiteout both incidents from his memory. But he’d been at this long enough to realize it would never happen. He must work hard to shove this and the older event into the lockbox in his mind.
Outside Whitehall Financial – 1:45 p.m.
Sergeant Nicholas Pastore gave up trying to quell the need to rub his face as he stared at the burning financial building. The nervous habit demanded an outlet as he endeavored to comprehend how things went so wrong, so fast. After scrubbing his cheeks several times, he raked his fingers through his dark brown hair, which in the past two years alone gained a dusting of white at the temples. This job and all it entailed would prematurely age him.
As Inspector Pope approached, Nick settled his black TRF cap on his head and prepared to hand over control to the post-incident investigative officer, before joining the rest of the team for what would be an intense debriefing once Dan, Jon, and Lexa returned from their NRB interviews. In all likelihood, the independent watchdog agency, which kept the police force accountable and public informed, would want to speak to every team member. With the loss of life involving both hostages and subjects, there would be a rigorous inquiry of how they handled this critical call.
“Sergeant Pastore.” Roman Pope came to a stop in front of Nick.
“Pope.” Not in the mood to deal with the pompous inspector, Nick still had not forgiven Pope for his supercilious and insensitive remarks about Ray after the slime-ball, ex-cop Bozonnet accused his officer of brutality.
Eyeing the Tactical Response Force Sergeant, Pope straightened to his full height as a poorly disguised sneer formed. “Told you before, and I’m telling you again, if I find you or your officers crossed the line, I’ll pursue charges with vigor. Being TRF doesn’t give you special privileges. Gambrill won’t be able to coddle and shield his pet team if my men uncover even the slightest break in protocol. The citizenry will demand justice for today’s result.”
Although wanting to tell the arrogant son of a jackal to go pound dirt, Nick r
emained professional. It would be the best way to protect his team. In the background, he noted Jon, Lexa, and Dan handing off their weapons before taking seats in sedans. “Inspector, the scene is yours. Three of my team are with NRB. The call transcript will be available within the hour.”
“Make your team available. My detectives will need to interview each of you even if NRB doesn’t.” Plain and simple, Pope disliked Pastore. He believed TRF constables to be glory hogs who swooped in at the last moment after he and other detectives, the real cops, did the hard work. Their storm-trooper tactics put citizens at risk and caused six unnecessary deaths today.
After giving a curt nod, Nick pivoted and strode towards Alpha Team’s vehicles, where Bram, Ray, and Loki stood waiting to return to headquarters. Each one appeared as devastated by the ending as him. Wish I could turn back time and change this outcome. He blew out a breath. Stop. No shoulds, woulds, or coulds. The flames of the fiery beast of doubt will consume you alive if you let them.
NRB Office – Interview Room A – 4:15 p.m.
In the past two years, Dan or Jon usually took the lethal shots, so Lexa rarely sat in the NRB hot seat. Her thoughts while waiting centered on Dan. I can’t believe he’s only been my teammate for twenty-six months. So many things have occurred in such a short time. The number of tough calls in my previous three years pales in comparison to the amount we’ve dealt with since he came into our lives.
As the door opened, Lexa straightened, donning her professional mask, preparing to focus on the impending inquiry.
“Constable McKenna, please state your full name for the record,” Agent Shay Mulligan said after he switched on the recording device.
“Alexandra Isobel McKenna.”
Shay nodded as he jotted down a note before returning his gaze to the auburn-haired beauty with keen hazel eyes. Her petite and delicate features wholly incongruent with the burly males he encountered in all his previous experience with SWAT officers in the States. Joining NRB after relocating from New York to live with his Canadian wife, required Shay to adjust his mindset because Toronto’s Tactical Response Force boasted three female officers among their regular ranks.
He appreciated their progressive thinking because most police forces still held anachronistic views, which limited the positions to only males. He pushed aside his thoughts and focused on this terrible situation. “And your primary role on the team, Miss McKenna?”
“Profiler, negotiator, and sniper.”
“Multiple roles?” Shay raised his brow.
“Yes, we all cross-train.”
“Have you taken lethal action before?” New to his position, Shay had not met any TRF officers except Jonathan Hardy, though his supervisor, Kendall Stevens, indicated he would become well-acquainted with the TRF snipers.
“Yes.”
Dale Gibbson, a TRF lawyer, peered at the rookie NRB agent. The powers that be insisted on the same person interviewing each officer, instead of involving three agents. The positive of the decision meant he would be able to represent each constable and sit in on all examinations. The negative, this would take a long time, and Dan, by the luck of the draw, would be last.
They finished with Jon ten minutes ago, and now Lexa was up. At least Dan wouldn’t be sitting in his skivvies in a freezing room like his first interrogation. Thankfully, NRB had not hired another Donner. But still, he wanted to reduce Dan’s wait. “Agent Mulligan, I suggest we stop all this background probing and focus on the incident so as not to waste Constable McKenna’s time nor keep Constable Broderick waiting unduly long.”
“Yes, by all means.” Shay flipped open the folder with the transcript. “Tell me in your own words what occurred before you used lethal force.”
Lexa realized the man would’ve read the call transcription, and Jon would’ve already relayed pertinent details, so she made her statement brief and to the point. “Alpha Team responded to a silent alarm at Whitehall Financial. Upon arriving, we discovered three subjects dressed in all black, wearing ski masks, and explosives rigged to the only exit.
“As we assessed the situation and Sergeant Pastore attempted to negotiate, it became apparent this was a copycat of the Central Bank heist two years ago. Their clothing, the way they positioned their hostages by the C-4, blacked out all the cameras except one pointed at the main area, and their outrageous demands. Almost like someone did a case study on the robbery.
“Though differences existed. For one, initially, they didn’t appear to be as cold-blooded, and via negotiations, Pastore secured the release of fifteen hostages. The subjects kept three to use as human shields. I started to interview those let go, but Constable Hardy directed Constable Palomo to take over and assigned me to Zulu Three, so we maintained a solution on each subject in case Pastore ordered PapaGolf.”
“Zulu? PapaGolf?” Shay wondered at the new terms Hardy had not used. He had a steep learning curve with all the new terminology.
“Zulu is our term for the sniper positions. Snipers take action when zero options remain for a nonlethal solution. PapaGolf is the permission granted signal to neutralize a subject. Broderick was Zulu One, Hardy Zulu Two, and since there are three snipers on our team, Hardy designated me Zulu Three.”
“Understood. Thank you for clarifying. Please go on.”
“Loki and Ray, I mean Constables Baldovino and Palomo attempted to discover information on our subjects, but without names available and their faces covered, they had nothing to search on, but believed one might be a female given her build.”
Shay interjected, “Were they able to identify the remaining hostages?”
Lexa’s clasped her slightly shaking hands in her lap as images of today’s victims came to mind. Their deaths, unnecessary and horrifying. “Yes.”
Dale stepped in. “Sir, you have the information from the previous interview. Is it necessary to rehash the details?”
Shay grimaced but nodded. “Yes, I must assess from each officer’s recollection. Officer McKenna, if you please.”
“Lewis Downing, a husband, father of two young boys, and a firefighter who broke his leg in a recent fire. Farshad Virk, a businessman who emigrated from Pakistan, was a single father of a teenage girl. His daughter indicated he had been ill lately. The last, Brant Sullivan, a former soldier who lost both legs and one arm to an IED in Kandahar.”
Lexa wanted to talk to Dan. The death of a soldier might trigger some bad memories for him and bring on nightmares. Although, how the three hostages died would give them all terrible dreams. Their screams as the fireball engulfed them would stick with her for a long time.
Noting her paling face, and hating himself for causing her distress, Shay decided to stay within guidelines, but allow some leeway. “Did you determine any connections between any of the remaining hostages?”
“Not those inside when…” Lexa took a steadying breath, “when the device exploded, but the first person I spoke with after the fifteen were released and before I took up my Zulu position was Brant’s caretaker. He didn’t want to leave Brant inside, but a subject forced him out at gunpoint, and Brant also told him to go.”
“Appears the subject selected individuals who posed little threat to them. Is that consistent with your assessment?” Shay jotted down notes.
“Yes, which is why Jon put me in as Zulu. They needed protecting if negotiations failed, and any of the armed subjects escalated to red.”
Shay nodded. “All three captives were seated near the vast windows at the front of the building with one subject behind each, is that correct?”
“Yeah. Brant remained in his wheelchair, but the others were made to sit in chairs.”
“Were they tied up or restrained in any manner?”
“No.”
“How long did Pastore negotiate after you took your sniper position?”
Lexa recalled racing to the SUV to grab her Remi. She was in full view of those inside the bank as she made her way to the shop across the street. She caught the eyes of Lewis Down
ing, and they appeared so bleak. She wondered which firehouse he worked out of and if Duke knew him.
Blowing out a breath, Lexa answered, “Everything happened so fast after I set up. I’m not sure what caused them to escalate, but within moments of taking aim on my subject, everyone inside began yelling, and the guns raised to the backs of the hostage’s heads. Pastore called PapaGolf, and I took my shot, as did Jon and Dan. We neutralized all subjects. Then the bomb exploded.”
“Did any of your teammates detect a deadman switch?”
“No. That is something we search for … and none of us spotted one. The only thing I can think of is it was on a timer. Perhaps that is why they were shouting. They hadn’t made their escape in time, and for whatever reason didn’t or couldn’t disarm the device.”
Shay slid the laminated Force Continuum to McKenna. “Please indicate where you would place your subject before your action.”
Lexa tapped the red zone. “Subject showed assaultive behavior with the intent of causing serious harm or death, signifying the necessity of lethal force.”
NRB Office – Interview Room B – 5:25 p.m.
Dan continued to pace like a caged lion. His usual ability to use breathing techniques to calm himself and remain still, disappeared along with his appetite. Although someone delivered a sandwich and water two hours ago, he had no desire to eat, and even if he did, he doubted the food would stay down.
Needing an outlet for his tension and pent up energy, Dan stopped and placed both palms on the barren concrete wall and did vertical pushups. The hostage’s screams still echoed in his head, morphing into a voice from his past, stirring the memories from another time and place he yearned to forget.
Fate is screwing with me again! Why did I end up being last to be interviewed when all I want to do is run hard and fast to escape the sounds? He needed out of this room, and earlier, he asked if he could wait on the roof, but they denied his request. Though he understood his entreaty went against protocol, he wished like hell Dale had been successful in garnering the small deviation for him … at least for today.