The Council: A Nate Grimes Mystery Book 1

By Allan McCarville

A family murdered; an undercover police officer assassinated. Detective Nate Grimes is tasked with solving these seemingly unrelated murders.

There’s a young witness to the murder of the family. However, the witness has amnesia. As Grimes works to protect the witness, he discovers there’s a malevolent presence lurking in the shadows. A presence that will do whatever is necessary to keep its existence secret – including murder.

Now both his and the witness’s lives are in danger, unaware that their greatest threat is within the police force itself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Allan McCarville
• Release date: Sep 24, 2020
• ISBN: 9781777168445

Allan McCarville

Allan McCarville is an author and researcher who has a number of titles published in the genres of fantasy, crime thrillers and historical fiction. He and his family reside in Stittsville, Ontario where he does his best to make people think that he's normal. Apparently it's not working.

Book preview

The woman was dead before she hit the floor, two quick shots to the back of her head. She knew too much, so she had to die.

The man regarded the woman’s body without emotion. He was a professional and never allowed emotion to interfere with a hit. The organization he worked for knew him as Leo; however his real identity was a well concealed secret.

Leo glanced quickly around, looking and listening, confirming no one else was in the abandoned warehouse. Sunlight filtered through the grime stained windows that surrounded the cavernous room, the rays illuminating dust particles three stories above his head.

He opened his briefcase, removed the silencer from the pistol then dropped both the silencer and the pistol into the case.

He took one last look at his victim. Although she was dressed like a hooker, he knew she was an undercover cop, a cop who had found out the truth about them. Leo didn’t need to check to confirm she was dead; he was a professional and he knew his business.

He grabbed the victim’s purse and, as expected, he located her cell phone inside along with the woman’s police ID. He removed the battery to disable any potential tracking of the phone’s location. Later he would review the call history to uncover who the victim had called in the last twenty-four hours. Bypassing the phone’s password would not be a problem with the technology available to him.

He made his way out through a side door to where his black Mercedes was sitting in the alley. He glanced around again, ensuring no one was lingering about. When he and the woman had arrived earlier, a homeless man was pushing a cart across the entrance to the alley, talking gibberish and gesturing wildly to no one in particular. Leo had been concerned he might need to deal with that loose end, but now the tramp was gone. It was likely the vagrant was so deep into his schizophrenic induced paranoia that he likely would not even have registered the presence of the Mercedes as Leo drove into the alley.

Satisfied that he had been undetected, he jumped in and started the engine. Less than a minute later he was swallowed up by the late afternoon rush hour traffic that was just starting to build.

Later that evening, several homeless people began to make their way into the old warehouse seeking their nightly shelter. Each of them staked out a private nook, areas that would be theirs only, at least for a few hours.

One of them was a woman named Old Sally. Sally wasn’t really that old; she was actually only thirty-five. However, twenty of those years had been spent on the street, and two decades of alcohol and drug abuse, poor diet and little in the way of personal hygiene added forty years onto her frame. Sally seldom spoke to anyone except to curse at them, and when she spotted the woman lying on the floor in her spot, that’s exactly what she did.

Old Sally got particularly abusive when the woman ignored her, so Sally shoved the cart that held her worldly possession sharply into the woman’s side. When the woman still ignored her, she gave the woman a solid kick to the ribs. Then Sally saw the blood and realized the woman was dead.

Everyone in the warehouse discovered Old Sally could still scream.

***

Detective Nate Grimes stood back from the body and waited patiently while the forensics team went about their gruesome but essential business. That familiar inner struggle percolated just beneath his forced impassive demeanor. Murder, regardless of the victim, was repulsive to him and he again considered turning in his badge. In his ten years as a cop, the last six as a detective with the Homicide/Robbery Division of the Cedar City Police Department, he had seen first-hand the outcomes of violence.

Grimes often considered retiring because he definitely did not need to work; he was a wealthy man. Not many on the police force were aware of his wealth, and the city would prefer if he would retire, not because of any concerns over conflict of interest, but because Grimes’s wealth made it more difficult to control him.

However, the source of that wealth haunted him, so the money was in the hands of an investment firm that annually advised him how rich he was.

He wanted nothing to do with blood money

Damned if I do, damned if I don’t, he thought sullenly to himself.

It was his need to ensure justice was done prevented him from abandoning a case until it was resolved. It was as if every victim of a violent crime personally beseeched him to right the wrong that had been done to them.

This one even more so - this was one of their own. Officer Jane Foster, twenty-five years old, only two years out of the academy, had been working undercover, infiltrating a drug and human trafficking ring. Somehow, someone discovered who she was. Grimes regarded the scene critically, labouring to remain emotionally detached. There was no sign of a struggle, so it appeared she had met willingly with her killer. It was a quick, clean kill; a professional hit.

Hiring a professional hit man is expensive, especially if the target is a cop. None of the local street gangs had the resources to afford a professional hit. However, criminal organizations tried to avoid killing cops because it attracted too much attention. Foster must have uncovered something very important to generate that kind of response. Grimes concluded that the hit on Foster signalled that they were dealing with something far more sinister than a locally organized crime ring. This had the earmarks of a national organization, perhaps even international.

The head of the forensics team approached Grimes and acknowledged him gloomily. Two bullets to the back of her head, said Wendy Feltmate. Death would have been in seconds if not instantaneous.

Grimes merely nodded. The fact the woman likely didn’t suffer did little to alleviate the underlying sense of anger he felt. The woman shouldn’t have died in the first place.

Any idea of the time of death? he asked. He always asked that question.

My guess is late this afternoon, around 4:30 or 5:00. I can give you a better estimate once the autopsy is complete, replied Feltmate.

Grimes checked his watch; it was just past ten pm. He turned to his partner, William London, and said, Let’s use a two-hour window to start, say between four and six. Get some of the uniforms to help check the neighbourhood; we might get lucky to find someone who was in this area at that time. Also, let’s see if any of these buildings have security cameras and check the local traffic cameras.

London gave him a half smile and replied, Okay. They both knew it was likely to be a waste of time. The only things in this neighbourhood were derelict buildings and equally derelict humans. He glanced over at the small group of homeless people who were being questioned by the some of the uniformed officers. It was unlikely they had seen anything, and if they did, in all probability they wouldn’t have recognized what they were seeing. As witnesses they would be unreliable, but there was always the hope that they might provide a useful tidbit of information. Grimes turned back to Feltmate. Any sign of her cell or handbag?

No, answered Feltmate then she held up a small plastic evidence bag contained a small amount of soil. This was beside the body, said Feltmate. It appears to be some type of soil that might have come from the killer’s shoes. We’ll check it out and if we’re lucky it might give us something that we can link to the killer once you catch him.

Grimes couldn’t help but smile at Feltmate’s obvious faith in his abilities. He would have used if we catch him, a big if.

No prints anywhere, continued Feltmate, so it’s obvious he wore gloves. Not much in the alley either. He - or she - had a car because there were some tire marks, but not enough to get a tread match.

Grimes sighed unhappily. He was not surprised, but there had been some hope that the killer slipped up. Even the best hitman is human, albeit likely a psychopathic one, but nevertheless might still make mistakes.

Okay, thanks Wendy, he grumbled.

Feltmate tapped him lightly on the shoulder. I’ll let you know if we find anything more, Nate, she said sympathetically.

Grimes watched her depart without actually seeing her, his mind already considering next steps. Foster’s cell phone was departmental issue, so he would have the techs back at headquarters do a location search. He was willing to bet the killer had removed the battery, so there would be no way to determine the phone’s current location, but it was worth a try.

They would also start searching her call records, and from that they could trace her final movements to her rendezvous with death.

Chapter 2

The head of the Council, traditionally referred to as Condor, answered the ringing telephone.

This is Condor. Speak. Condor listened carefully then nodded and stated, Good. Thank you.

Condor hung up the telephone and regarded the other six members of the Council seated around the large rectangular polished table. The Council had been in existence for over almost thirty years, its members meticulously selected and groomed for their positions in absolute secrecy. All of them had day jobs, no one ever suspecting these upstanding citizens were engaged in illegal activities.

The Council controlled almost all of the world’s criminal activity and were so secretive that most criminal gangs were unaware of its existence. Even the Mafia and Asian Triads were unaware that often their activities were manipulated by the seven people seated around the table.

Membership on the Council was restricted and by invitation only. Retirement from the Council was only by death – not always by natural causes

The merchandise from Romania has been received at the final destination, Condor informed the Council members.

There were smiles from the members seated around the table. One of them, a burly man whose tailored suit accentuated his muscular frame, grunted in English with a heavy Russian accent, Excellent. That is the third shipment from Romania this month. I take it the merchandise was received in good condition?

Yes, confirmed the chair. This shipment contained two units which makes a total of eight units delivered in the past three months. We expect these units will last three to five years before they are no longer of any value. We will make a handsome profit on this month’s shipments.

That announcement was greeted with murmurs of approval.

Condor gave the Council a few seconds to enjoy the news before continuing, Our final order of business is the report on the shipments from Colombia. They were also delivered as scheduled to regional distributors in five centres, four in North America and one in Europe. Over the next two months, the profits from those shipments will exceed four hundred million US dollars.

Again, murmurs of satisfaction emanated from around the table.

What about the Bianchi Family in New York? asked an elegantly dressed middle-aged woman, whose blond hair fell stylishly over her shoulders. Her accent was British, but Condor knew she was actually from Germany. Have we now obtained their loyalty?

No, replied Condor with a hint of a smile, "but we have obtained their cooperation. The Bianchi Family was one of the last mafia families to oppose the Council’s taking control of all the cocaine being shipped from South America. Accessing their supposedly secure estate and beheading the head of the family, as well as their security chief in front of the entire household convinced them to cooperate, added Condor. In addition, the youngest Bianchi girl is in University overseas, and we know where all the grandchildren attend school. The Bianchi’s understand that as long as they cooperate, none of the younger family members will be harmed."

Nods of understanding rippled through the council members.

is there any other business that we need to discuss? asked Condor glancing around the table.

The question was met with headshakes.

Very well, then. Our next face to face meeting will be in Buenos Aires in two months Condor declared. In the meantime, we’ll continue to hold video conferences every week. I wish you all safe travels back to your respective headquarters. The members of the council rose from the table and, acknowledging Condor with a slight bow, headed out of the boardroom.

One moment please, Alexi, said Condor addressing the large Russian. Alexi Sokolov stopped and turned towards Condor, a puzzled expression on his face.

How is your family? asked Condor, They are well I hope.

Yes, Condor. They are well, thank you, replied Sokolov, a slight tremor in his voice. Being singled out by Condor was seldom a good thing.

Condor studied Sokolov closely. They are adapting to this country without too much difficulty? Your boy is attending a local school, yes?

Sokolov nodded nervously, unsure as to why Condor was questioning him about his family. There was no way Condor could know what he and his wife were planning.

Yes, Condor. The language barrier was a bit challenging at first, but Ivanovich has made friends and his schoolwork is above average.

I am pleased to hear that. Please give my regards to Natalya, stated Condor. Have a safe trip back to Cedar City.

Thank you, replied Sokolov as he made his way out of the boardroom, relieved not to answer any more questions from the Council’s chair.

Condor watched the man leave and then closed and locked the large double doors to prevent anyone entering the boardroom. When the large doors closed, a small door opened behind the table where Condor had been seated, and a man stepped into the room.

You heard all that? asked Condor.

Leo, nodded silently.

Condor then asked, Are you sure Sokolov is the source of the leak?

The man nodded. Someone made a call to police headquarters stating they had information about a new crime organization taking control of all the criminal activity in Cedar City. A meeting was set up between an undercover cop and the caller. The man smiled slightly before adding, There are only a few city cops working undercover and I know who they are. Although the caller was anonymous, it was a simple matter to determine which cop they would meet with. I tailed that cop and it was Sokolov and his wife who met with her.

Condor sat back at the table, tapped the keys on a laptop bringing up a picture of the Sokolov family on the large monitor. Condor regarded the images of the man, woman and young boy, anger building at Sokolovs’ betrayal. Then with a sigh said, Okay, eliminate them like you did the woman cop.

The man nodded. The boy too?

Condor thought for a moment. No, it’s unlikely he would be aware of what his parents were up to. A murdered child would only bring unnecessary attention to the situation so let him be, unless there’s no other choice.

The assassin left the room so silently Condor didn’t hear him go.

Chapter 3

The vagrant was an undercover cop. Nate Grimes regarded the man finding it difficult to believe he was a police officer. The man, Grant Harvey, looked around nervously, his face twitching, but Grimes couldn’t tell if that was part of his cover or an affliction acquired from months working undercover.

It had been three days since Officer Foster had been killed and Grimes was getting frustrated at the slow progress.

Follow me, the man rasped heading into an alley where the bright morning sunshine had yet to penetrate. At this hour, there was little traffic in the street, and the alley itself was empty aside from the two of them. That would change later when pimps, prostitutes and drug dealers made their way into the alley to carry out their respective business transactions.

A gentle breeze made its way along the alley and Grimes, who was standing downwind from Harvey, couldn’t help grimacing at the odour that invaded his nostrils.

Harvey noticed Grimes reaction and shrugged. "Sorry, but it would be hard for me to fit in with the others if I smelled like a Rosa sunsprite."

"Rosa sunsprite?" asked a puzzled Grimes.

Harvey laughed quietly. It’s a variety of rose that’s quite common around here, he explained.

I’m impressed. I didn’t know you were an expert on flowers, said Grimes.

Harvey quickly replied, No, not really. I just have a passing interest about local flora. I enjoy doing a little gardening. It helps me to clear my head.

Ah, I understand, responded Grimes with a slight grin. Just remind me never to volunteer to work undercover. I need my daily shower.

The other man chuckled then became serious. My Captain told me you want to talk about my partner? Don’t know if I can add anything that he hasn’t already told you.

Grimes nodded. We’re trying to trace the last twenty-four hours before she was killed. You two have been together on the streets for several months. What were you guys working on?

In the past few months, began Harvey, there has been a spike in the amount of heroin and cocaine on the streets, plus there was something going on with the local prostitutes. Jane and I thought either a new gang was muscling its way into the drug and hooker traffic, or one of the current gangs was trying to take over more territory.

The hit was professional, revealed Grimes. That doesn’t sound like local gang activity.

The other man rubbed his whiskered chin. No, it doesn’t, he agreed. To be honest, it doesn’t even sound like an activity any street gang would engage in.

Same conclusion I came to, admitted Grimes. A gang, even a new one operating locally would not want the attention that would result from putting out a professional contract on a cop. Did she give you any indication of what she might have discovered?

The undercover cop shook his head. Not really. Someone called headquarters claiming they had information regarding who was trying to take control of Cedar City’ drug and skin trade. The call was transferred to our Divisional Commander, Captain Watson, who assigned Jane to do the follow-up. She met with them the night before she was killed.

Them? repeated Grimes.

Yeah, confirmed Harvey. Apparently they were a man and woman. Jane thought they might be husband and wife because of the way they interacted. Since you already spoke with Watson, you know that the informants didn’t provide much information. They wanted immunity from prosecution as well as protection before revealing too much. They were concerned about retaliation from whoever they were ratting on.

Not an unreasonable assumption, said Grimes, "given that whoever they are working for have the resources to hire