Shadow Soldiers #5: Shadow Soldier Series

By Wrathe W. Aceing

Shadow Soldiers is a series of novellas focused on exploring the world of the soldier, especially how their code of ethics is affected by the challenges of real evil in the world today.  More morality plays than action-adventures, these episodic stories ask the audience to judge their role in the world's challenges.  Uncovering each challenge to our society, Sarge finds the right mercenaries to fight the evil.  Creating Warrior Cadre Management (WCM), he builds a diverse team of mercenaries, soldiers, and spies to take on the evil that festers in our world.

 

Our mercenaries come from all walks of life, and as you meet them, you may begin to understand their choice of service.  They are the new cowboy, fighting against evil where it exists.  So sit down and turn a page or two.  Each novella brings you something to excite the warrior in you.  You may choose to join them after a few adventures! 

• Language: English
• Publisher: vmPublishing
• Release date: May 11, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201244996

Book preview

vmPublishing

[e-mail]

http://www.vismgt.com

DFW, Texas, USA

Credits and Gratitude

My Cover Designer – Zijian Chen

It is stated that a picture holds a thousand words.  After the writing journey, I have the wonderful opportunity to seek just the right image to capture the essence of my writings.

When I saw Chen’s Dark Soldier, I had my cover.  His grateful permission and new friendship add to the joy of finding just the right vision of the thrills written on the pages to follow.

About the Author

Description: W W Aceing.jpg

Wrathe W. Aceing

Wrathe W. Aceing is a pseudonym, an anagram created to remove celebrity from the author and focus on the central message of these adventures and other books. The e is silent.  So is the warrior.  But the vigilance, while silent, is real.

The author can be identified as a part of these novellas.  A character, either unique or composite, that moves through these military thrillers.  As the publishing editor and an advocate of these adventures, I requested more background, but the dark stare ended my inquiry.

Anonymity is an asset to those who walk the dark side of our world.  It is a double-edged sword, taking away the individual’s rights for full disclosure but providing shelter for the bearer of the burden of our protection.

In my last conversation with the author, he indicated his prayer was that someday dark soldiers would not be necessary.  I place my credence on the author’s good character and the underlying message of these stories.

William Joyce

Project Advocate

vmPublishing

[e-mail]

DFW, Texas, USA

Suspect Seven

Suspect Seven

Chapter 01 – Open Case File

Synopsis

An eight-year-old cold case with a twist allows both Sarge and Emily to set aside their sadness for the loss of Megs and solve a mystery Homeland Security gave up on.

Seaside Dinner

Unsolved cases, no matter how you try to be objective, create an inner turmoil you cannot set aside, and the Goethals Bridge Bombing attempt sits at the top of my list, I shouted at Derrick Brown in response to his snickering.

The file, strewn across the table, contained case notes of the bombing and one fugitive at large—Carrington Dalton Parrington. 

JT sat on the kitchen table, attentive to my case analysis—so I continued.  "The last-minute heroics of a Port Authority patrolman, pulling the blasting caps out of the Semtex and thwarting the tragedy, moved the case out of the public awareness and into the classified hands of Homeland Security.  I was assigned during the initial investigation to represent New Jersey Police and was told to go back to city crime when Homeland ran out of leads and interest.

Over the eight-month investigation, we identified eight individuals as potential perpetrators and interrogated all but one.  We never found Carrington Dalton Parrington.  Making Parrington the top person of interest, and Homeland had a nationwide manhunt established.  But when the other leads went dry, they moved on to more immediate threats against the United States.

The fading light of Friday’s sunset left a golden tinge on the pages strewn atop the table.  Stretching, I got up to find more wine.  Sometimes, it bothers me that old cases haunt my downtime.  Giving the idea of pouting a well-deserved moment, I huffed and went to find the chardonnay.

Emily, you probably know that file word for word.  Why pull it out on such a fine evening.  Derrick entered from the back porch and went directly to the big pot on the stove.  His fish soup reached its perfect simmering temperature.  Taking a spoon and testing the soup, he put in just a little more salt.

JT remained silent and attentive.  We talked about this case a few times, and he knew when to give me my space.  He smiled at Derrick but kept out of the discussion.

Table’s set, and Sarge arrived.  Derrick waited while I came out of my trance, standing with the bottle of chardonnay poised above my empty glass.

Come on, Emily; our guest deserves your undivided attention.

Looking up at Derrick and then at the bottle, I smiled.  Sorry, Derrick.  You know me and cold cases.  I’ll put it away.

Quickly gathering the pages into a folder and placing them back in the box on the kitchen chair, I refocused my mind.  I would return the file to the storage closet after dinner.  Passing by the delightful fish soup pot, I asked, What if Parrington was not the perpetrator?  What if we were looking at this all wrong?

I almost turned back to the file, but JT’s arm found its place around my waist and kept me moving towards the screen door and the porch table set for a fantastic fish dinner.

Derrick laughed and opened the screen door.  Now, that would really be something.  You will have to apologize for all the things you have been calling him over the last seven years.

My smile gave him insight into my thoughts as I tossed an oven mitt in his direction.  He knew me better than anyone could—a father figure when I needed one.

He caught the mitt and tossed it onto the counter, adding.  JT, bring the breadbasket and the hot sauce.  Dinner is served.

Sarge sat at the table where Megs used to sit to enjoy the harbor vista.  He jumped up, hugging me.  It is so good to see you, Emily.  The case in Portland kept you away for a long time.  How are you?

The conversation ebbed and flowed as the soup served to sate appetites.  The empty bowls paid homage to the chef.  Of course, Sarge, after complimenting the chef, immediately added a healthy dose of hot sauce.

Chance encounters

Being admonished guests don’t do dishes, Sarge found a seat at the kitchen table, moving the box of evidence and idly thumbing through the pile of documents. 

To everyone’s surprise, he pulled a picture from the stack and asked a question.  Why do you have a picture of Bandy Albertson in your New Jersey case file?  I don’t believe he ever left the Montana mountains?

Who?  I turned, almost dropping the dish, seeing the face of Carrington Dalton Parrington staring back at me. 

You know that guy?  I was across the room and standing right in front of Sarge.

Sure, he helped me track down a drug dealer in Montana a few years back.  A bit of a loner but a good guy to have when wandering in the woods.  He put the picture down and looked at me.  How do you know him?

He is Carrington Dalton Parrington, the top suspect in the Goethals Bridge Bombing attempt and wanted by Homeland Security.  It is an open case from my days in New Jersey.  You sure about this guy?

Well, Emily, I know one way to find out.  Tell me about your cold case.  Let’s see if we can close it together!

Sarge, in his element, yelled for Derek to get his bags in from the car.  He was staying on the boat and working on my cold case.

Chapter 02 – Memories

The sound of the harbor coming to life, augmented with the smell of coffee and baked cinnamon rolls, flooded my mind with precious memories.  I stared at the bedroom door, expecting it to burst open.  So many times, Megs rushed in, singing a bawdy sailor’s song and demanding I rise to meet the morning tide.

The door remained shut, and reality slowly pushed in, allowing my tears to begin, remembering my loss.  Rolling over, I found my place in JT’s arms.  His caress on my shoulders found the beat of my tears, and the world drifted away for a few precious moments.

It was Sarge, whistling a soldier’s tune in the kitchen beyond the door that would never burst open again. 

Time to rejoin the world.  Time to leave memories where they belonged—in my broken heart.  So many memories—starting with a crime scene in Tom’s River, New Jersey, and ending at a crime scene in Washington, DC.  Megs had changed my life, and now the hole in my soul ached beyond description.

She seemed just a bit bossy that first day, but we were clearly kindred spirits in pursuit of justice.  Together we worked the multiple Tom’s River homicides uncovering an international conspiracy.  Because of her, I left New Jersey for the Texas Gulf Coast and a new career with WCM.

Leaving the bedroom in my terrycloth robe and slippers, I slipped into the chair where Sarge placed a steaming cup of coffee.  Megs would be dressed and ready for adventure, always singing those dirty ditties like a drunk sailor. 

Thanks, Sarge, I reached for a cinnamon bun, this makes it feel like she’s still with us.

I spent the morning reviewing your file and understand the case well.  You sure nothing has been added to this file in six years?

He had a habit of focusing on the mission.  Since the day I met Sarge, I knew he was like my Derrick and a man I could confide in.  But he was different than my cop dad.  He was gruff around the edges, not soft and affectionate. 

Derrick walked in and found a seat next to me and JT, reaching for the pastries as Sarge delivered his mug of coffee.  You up to speed, Sarge?

Yeah, I was saying that this file has a five-year gap.  Can we be sure there isn’t more evidence?

Homeland was never appreciative of my inquiries, I stated.  I gave up asking for updates since I had no new evidence to share.

Sarge turned from the stove and brought a platter of eggs and bacon.  Let me get Blue to peek at their files.  He can do that this week since he is in DC working on another case for me.

And I can call your old buddy DB in Tom’s River.  Derrick chimed in.  He has been working your desk for the last few years.  I’m sure he would love to hear from you, Emily.

After scooping out a big ladle of home fries from the bowl, I slid two eggs and three strips of bacon onto my plate. 

You need hot sauce?  Sarge moved around the table to his seat.

Not everything in the world needs to be on fire!  Your taste buds are burnt away from all your spices.  Derrick never could resist poking at Sarge for his spicy diet.

Yes, please, Sarge.  I laughed, and Sarge smirked at Derrick, who began to masticate his eggs with his knife and fork in apparent frustration.

I knew what they were doing.  I knew that they gently pulled me out of my sadness, and I loved them for it.  I also knew that JT would stand by me and allow me to find my way out of the darkness that was the loss of my best friend.

Mission Begun

OK, we have Blue snooping around Washington, I put down my fork and looked at my two father figures and beautifully patient husband.  We have a Jersey copper working the scene of the crime.  How will we get our suspect out of the Montana mountains?

Sarge laughed and tossed a biscuit at me.  Already working on that, girl.  I sent John out yesterday to track him down.  He told us to meet him in Bozeman, Montana, in seven days.  That should give you enough time to update this file.

JT chimed in.  LC is testing a new Bell Boeing V-22 Osprey.  I can have him on standby, Emily.  Just say the word.

The meal turned towards simple banter like gulf tides and fishing lures as the eggs disappeared, sating tummy and heartstrings. 

I knew Megs liked....

Jumping up to get the coffee pot and pushing aside thoughts that would restart my tears, I began the Case of the Innocent Mountain Man.  If this guy is innocent, how come he was in New Jersey?

I poured a hot cup of coffee, not expecting anyone to answer, although I saw the smile grow on JT’s face.  He saw I had the case in hand and was ready for action.

Five days to get this file up to date, and we are off to the Montana mountains.  I hugged my husband, then gathered Sarge and Derrick in my arms, kissing them.

Heading to the bedroom, I looked back at the three men in my life.  I am a very lucky girl to have three brave knights to defend me.

Putting my hands on my hips, I raised my voice.  I lead this investigation.  Have the file brought up to date and have DB report as soon as possible.

All three stood ramrod straight and saluted. 

A giggle escaped as I rushed to my bedroom to get ready for a new adventure.

Chapter 03 – DC News

Blue set up a video conference from DC on a well-protected communications line.  He had entered the bowels of Homeland Security and gathered evidence on the Goethals Bridge Bombing over the last five years.  It was sparse.

Hitting a few keys, Blue changed the screen to display a memorandum.  Here is the only new piece of evidence.

Three years ago, they assigned a new agent to re-interview the suspect list—Marybeth Prandini.  Of the eight, three had died, four were re-interviewed, and one, Carrington Dalton Parrington, remained at large.  The interviews assured Marybeth and Homeland that four suspects had nothing to do with the bombing.

One new question arose.  DNA identified as belonging to Carrington Dalton Parrington remained unmatched.  Marybeth, digging deeper, noticed that the DNA indicated Middle Eastern heritage.  The picture of Carrington Dalton Parrington belied this evidence.  The file had no follow-up.  Marybeth was reassigned two weeks after this report, and the case supervisor never even entered the lab’s results.  Blue changed the screen to show his face.

I’m sending you a copy of the note and heading out to dig around in the lab.  I’ll bring it with me to Bozeman.  Blue waved and ended the conference call, disconnecting everyone. 

I watched JT jot some notes, and Sarge fiddle with the picture.  We may have missed a suspect. 

Both looked up.  A DNA test will help once John tracks down our mountain man.  What have you got there, Derrick?  The table was covered in old evidence and a few new notes.

I spent the last two days looking for a motive in the bombing.  He stood behind his chair and stretched.  From day one, everybody assumed it was a terrorist attack.  We never even posited a different scenario.

When the suspects are run-of-the-mill criminals, you look for normal crime motives.  The fact that Parrington remained at large kept everyone focused on terrorism.  We never looked for another motive.  Derrick sat down and opened a folder. 

DB sent me a list of crimes in Staten Island, NY, and Elizabeth, NJ, on the day of the incident.  Two remain unsolved.  The armored car robbery on the Staten Island side of the Bayonne Bridge and the Boxwood Hall robbery in Elizabeth, NJ.  In both cases, the security guards responded to the bomb threat by leaving their assigned posts.

Sarge pulled the folder from Derrick.  The armored car yielded sixty-thousand dollars.  They robbed it before it did its pickup at the bank.  I don’t think it fits the planning of a bomb diversion.

Yeah, but the Boxwood Hall capper is worth over six million dollars in Revolutionary Artifacts, including the Hamilton Papers. 

JT came to the table from his perch at the kitchen counter. 

Since nothing has shown up since the robbery, we need to assume a private collector has them stowed away, Derrick mused.

Middle Eastern descent, desire for historical documents, no need to make a profit.  We may have a real lead.  JT talked but did not expect any response.

I stood and faced the men at the table.  Let’s let Blue finish his work in DC and wait until we are all in Bozeman to begin speculating. 

I saw nods and continued.  I would like to begin building a list of bad rich guys with Middle Eastern heritage, especially in the New York to DC corridor.  We have had a few run-ins with their type before.  Sarge, can you get H to build the list?  It might give us a break in the case.

JT stood, took the file from my hands, gave it to Derrick, and sashayed me across the kitchen floor towards the deck.  You promised me some fishing time, young lady.  Let Sarge and Derrick put the file away while we catch dinner.

We took the skiff out into the bay and dropped anchor.  JT quickly baited, tossed the crab nets overboard, and pulled me into the tiny cabin.  Room was not an issue, as we both had close contact on our minds.

Chapter 04 – Mountain Stalk

John made his way to the halfway point of Saddle Peak Hiking Trail, passing only one stalwart adventurer.  Stopping by a rock outcropping, he noticed the broken branches heading off the trail down the mountain’s western side.  The tracker in him knew someone had traveled there more than once. 

Taking his time, he moved down the slope to a vertical drop where the trail ended.  He found the handholds and eased himself over the edge, quickly finding footholds and a new path under the ledge heading north along the mountain ridge.  Two miles of hard work brought him to a small valley protected from the overused trails above.  It contained a small stream and a cave on the north side, with a man whitling a piece of oak sitting in the entrance, watching John approach.

You lost hiker?  His voice was even and did not show alarm or anger.

I think I just found what I was looking for.  John stopped and put his pack down.  Are you a friend of Sarge?

The man in the cave entrance signaled John to approach and put his knife down to tend to the pot on the fire.  Rabbit and onions are all I got.  He seemed to lose interest in John, rummaging behind him and pulling out two tin plates.

Sitting across the fire, John removed his gloves and opened his coat.  Gazing out to the west, seeing the vista that is the Rockies, John sighed.  This is better than my cabin in Colorado.  A bit testy to get to, but the view is magnificent.

What’s your name, and what does Sarge want?  He handed John a plate of rabbit stew.

Jonathan A Hartling—call me John.  Someone saw you back east and thought you might be involved in the Goethals Bridge Bombing.  You have been the number one suspect for eight years.  John watched the man who took the news with little reaction.

Sarge thinks they made a mistake.  He sent me up here so you could clear your name.  That is if it’s Bandy Albertson. 

Yeah, figured someday this would happen. He took a big spoonful of stew.

Got the name wrong.  I saw the files.  How did Sarge get involved in this?

John hesitated and focused on the man across the fire.

Come on now, John.  You don’t believe I would do something like bombing a bridge.  What did Sarge tell you about me?

That you are good people and helped him once.  But that is all I know about you.

I was back east to attend my sister’s funeral on Staten Island.  I was walking across the bridge—not something many people do these days.  That’s how they got my picture, but their cameras were off.  I passed over the bridge four hours before they found that bomb.  I hitched a ride with a trucker heading west and was in Pennsylvania before anyone knew anything.

You saw the files?

I’ve been known to break-and-enter a place to two.  Part of my training back in the day.

Not straight military?

Na, I’m more spook than a soldier.  A special unit out of the Pentagon aligned with the Army Rangers but with a different chain of command.  I knew you when you were in service.  That’s why you get to sit here and eat my vittles.

I saw some tracks on the ridge.  We have a few days before Sarge and the team arrives in Bozeman.  What do you think about a bit of hunting?

OK, but we will use a bow.  Both of us are too good with a rifle.  It makes it unfair for the mountain goats.

Chapter 05 - East Coast Connections

DB pushed the coffee mug aside and spread out his notes.  There was excitement in the air, knowing that he would be on a plane heading for Bozeman, MT, to be with his first mentor in a few days.  Detective Benjamin Collingsworth, soldier-turned-detective with a standing ticket punched to join WCM, carefully arranged the files he would use to gather evidence for Derrick and Emily about the Goethals Bridge Bombing.

DB had three days to dig up new evidence and get to Bozeman, MT.  He had a car rented to remain mobile and open reservations at the Budget Inn right off Brunswick Avenue in Elizabeth, NJ.  Time to play detective. 

Carrol, you ready to go?  He saw his best detective at her desk in the bullpen.

One minute.  I just got a message from Staten Island on the Armored Car Robbery.  She waved him off as he approached her desk.  I’ll meet you in the parking lot.  Five minutes.

Yes, I’ll hold.

Ten minutes later, they were on the road heading for Elizabeth.

Staten Island Cold Case

Carrol shook the hand of the dispatcher for the Ranken Armored Car Service.  He was the only employee still with the company since the robbery.  His recollection and snide comments about past employees, filtered with the records officially logged over the years, gave Carrol all she needed.  They were off and across the bridge to Elizabeth, NJ.

PieZano’s Pizza Kitchen was a mile from the Budget Inn and recommended by the octogenarian behind the slotted window front desk.  DB insisted they eat before ending the first day of detecting.

"The Armored Car Robbery is not the crime we are looking for, DB.  It may be open, and we may have some leads to solve it, but it will not lead to the bombing incident.  A few idiots pulled this