Follow the NYPD, FBI, and the Department of Defense while they mount an all-out search for a band of relentless killers hired by an international syndicate to invade homes of high0level executives and steal their top secret information. The intrepid detec
NOTHING
By Chick GallinTrafford Publishing
Copyright © 2012 Chick Gallin
All right reserved.ISBN: 978-1-4669-4144-1Chapter One
The Terwilliger family—Robert (the father); Roberta (the mother); and their four children, Bruce, fifteen years old; Angela, eight years; Bobby, five years; and Billy, three years of age—lived in this five-bedroom apartment with the feeling of total security up until that very moment. That's when Robert had an eerie feeling that their lives were about to be turned upside down, and he would unbelievably be right.
He motioned his family to stop and wait by the front entrance, holding his hand up like a crossing guard at a school crossing.
He walked stealthily through the short foyer to the large living room—which was furnished with a large oversized wraparound soft leather sofa accompanied by two large, also soft, leather reclining chairs and a fifty-four-inch flat screen television set that was the focal point of the room. It was perched above a modest fireplace at one end of the room. There were occasional tables scattered fashionably around the room to accommodate any assortment of books, games, and/or papers that might be utilized by the large family.
He continued through to the dining room, skirted the rectangular dining room table, and slowly approached the section of the house that housed the five bedrooms and his office and workout room.
His apprehensions were not unfounded as he was faced with a rather large figure of a man with a black stocking mask; his eyes were like two burning coals, which seemed to give off a scalding heat. He also had a rather menacingly large automatic pistol aimed squarely between his eyes.
"Shhh," a gravely voice warned him. "No noise or you won't make it out of this room. Your family has already been taken into the other room, so if you value their lives, you won't make a sound or any trouble, you got that?"
Trying to control his own voice, Robert said, "Okay, take what you want, but please, don't hurt them. I'll do whatever you say."
"Right, I know you will, Mr. Terwilliger."
There was another man in his office going through his desk and not being too neat about it. There was another ski-masked man seated at his computer who, at Robert's arrival, turned and said, "Good, you're here, I need your password, Mr. Terwilliger, so be a good man and give it to me ... now."
"I-I don't know it, my wife has it, it's her computer, and I don't use it myself."
"Well, get her ass in here and you stand by the door so she doesn't get any funny ideas," and as he said this, he brandished a large eight-inch barreled revolver that had a hole at the end that looked like the entrance to the Brooklyn-Battery Tunnel.
"Please, what can you find on her computer, it's only used for her chatting and shopping. There's nothing ... on there that's of any use to anyone. Why don't you tell me what you want so I can get it for you and you can leave us alone."
"Look, I'm not going to tell you again. Get her in here, or I'm going to have my man out there do something you won't like very much to your kids, get it?" he said very menacingly.
"Okay, okay, just a minute, Roberta, would you please come into the office, please."
A moment later a rather nervous and confused Roberta walked in and gasped when she saw her husband being held with a large gun at his head.
"Robert, what's happening? The kids are out there with a person who doesn't look like he's human. What's happening?"
"Lady, shut up," the man at the computer said softly but with a hint of irony in his voice.
"Get over here and get me into your system, and don't be smart and fool around with it, do you understand ... especially now that you know we really mean business?"
Chapter Two
Roberta was a nice-looking woman, not a ravishing beauty by today's standards, like the one's that strode the models' runways, but not bad at all. She had a fairly trimmed figure, attributed to three days a week with a physical trainer and given that she had four children in fairly close order. She didn't seem to be a woman who would put up much resistance, but she was after all a mother whose children were in danger and it engendered a definite mode in her likened to a mother lioness when her brood was threatened.
"Who the hell do you think you are? Who are you to come into our house and put guns in our faces? Get the hell out! Robert, do something ... do something."
"Lady, I said shut the hell up or your husband and those kids you so adore will get seriously hurt and you yourself won't be left out and first we will make you watch! Now shut up and do as I tell you. Get over here and get me into your system ... do it now."
Screwing up her pretty face, she bared her teeth and shouted, "I won't, you better leave now, I won't help you, so forget about it, and if you touch my kids, you'll be sorrier than hell, I promise you that."
The man at the computer quickly rose and approached her, and without any warning, backhanded across her mouth. She reeled backward as tears sprang forth from her eyes.
"Lady, I said shut up! Now get over here."
She was still reeling from the blow and was holding on to a bookcase by the far wall. She shook her head, trying to clear it, but it only caused it to hurt all the more.
"Bobby, do as they say, it's not worth it to antagonize them. Give them the password, what is there to hide?" her husband pleaded.
"Yeah, Bobby, do as I say and don't bug me, or you will be sorrier than you are right now, so get to it."
Little did her husband know that Roberta Trewilliger was an agent who had the specific job of keeping tabs on various institutions in the city that had come under suspicion with the Securities and Exchange Commission and was in possession of some highly confidential information and documentation for them—in particular, a dossier that could potentially put some rather large players in jail for a very long, long time. This was not something that her husband was remotely aware of, so he wasn't too concerned with what was on her computer.
In dire fear for her family, Roberta was unable to resist at this time; she was trying to figure a way of erasing the information before the thug could stop her but couldn't think of a way ... yet.
She moved unsteadily to the desk and sat down at the computer. With a few deft strokes, she opened her e-mail account. "There," she said defiantly.
"Good, now get up and go back into the other room and don't cause any more trouble, my guy out there is not as patient and kind like I am."
Roberta hoped that the encrypted information was too deeply imbedded in her system and that the hacker would not be able to break the code. She knew Robert was of no help to them at this point, and they would not harm him.
"Bob, you don't mind me calling you Bob, do you? Whatever, I don't care much if you do or not. Anyway, you have much more than we took, but you don't know it yet. If we can't get what we want from your wife's system, you are facing a grim future, do you understand?"
Robert could only nod his head, swallowing the lump that had been growing in the back of his throat, knowing that this was not even close to being over.
Up to this point, neither the leader nor his assistants had called each other by name, and Robert was in such a state and turmoil he hadn't noticed it yet. From the initial intrusion in their lives until now, he couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that he really didn't know what they wanted and who they were. The only thing he knew was that they seemed to know him, his wife, and their children's names and supposedly their entire life.
Chapter Three
Detective Ralph Bloom was enjoying a peaceful Sunday, one of the very few since being assigned to the Homicide and Robbery Division last April. Ralph is as unassuming as a man could be. His stature was not large; he did not sport any facial hair, and the hair on his head was thinning, turning quickly to baldness. He dressed as conservatively as his demeanor; his fashion sense ran to jeans and polo shirts with worn brown loafers. Ralph had never been married and had no immediate plans for it in the immediate or far-reaching future. His only outstanding feature was his keen eyes and more than superior intelligence, which transcended into investigations that baffled other detectives.
His office was as austere as he was—no photographs or certificates of merit graced its walls. The only sort of recognition was his nameplate at the head of his desk, informing everyone and anyone his rank and station in the department.
Ralph had been involved as the lead detective in a multiple homicide two years ago, and his determination not to give up resulted in the tracking down and the ultimate demise of the killer that he had hunted across the United States. He was instrumental in the conviction of an accomplice of the killers and the recovery of millions of bearer bonds that had been stolen, precipitating the killings of the original carrier of those bonds.
Disturbing his peace that Sunday was the incessant ringing of his cell phone, which he tried to ignore, but he finally fell victim to his conscience as he picked it up and read the caller ID. The department was urgently calling and adding 911 at the end of the message.
Bloom ambled slowly around his living room and said into the phone, "This better be good, I'm off and enjoying the boredom of bachelor life."
An excited voice at the other end blurted out, "Ralph, what else do you have to do? You can't just sit around on your rear end, and plus, we need you back here—pronto."
"Wait a minute, is this Ed Ortiz? What are you doing at the squad on a Sunday?"
"Yeah, Ralph, it's me, and we've run into a situation that calls particularly for your expertise."
"What expertise would you be referring to, Ed?"
"Why your expertise in getting donuts donated to the division, of course! Just kidding, Ralph, we've got a multiple kidnapping on the upper east side. The captain has called in all the troops on this one."
"Okay, Ed, you've peaked my interest and issued the call to arms, I'll be in as soon as possible ... and leave a few donuts for me, will you?"
"You got it, pal, I'll let the captain know. See you soon."
Bloom hung up the phone and, moving quickly, scooped up his wallet, badge, holster, and gun and took off . He jumped in his five-year-old gray Toyota Corolla and made his way across town to the squad on York Street and Ninety-Fifth Avenue, an unimposing building smack in the middle of an affluent neighborhood. It boasted no outward sign that it was a police annex, and that's the way the department and the neighborhood council wanted it. It worked well for the both sides.
Chapter Four
After being taken away to a location somewhere unknown to her, Roberta had to be taken back to her home to provide the password to the computer as Robert had no knowledge of her personal computer. She was blindfolded prior to leaving the basement and forcibly pushed into the van, hitting her head on the doorframe.
"Jesus!" Roberta spit out. "Can't you at least be careful, damn you!"
"Shut up, lady," someone said coldly.
She was unceremoniously pushed into the study and shoved into a chair in front of her computer station.
"You can't be serious," Roberta Terwilliger said with a voice wracked with emotion. "You have broken up my family and sent the kids and my husband away to who-knows-where and in different directions."
"Mrs. Terwilliger, Roberta, Bobby, don't get all excited, we did it for a very good reason. We know you will be reasonable."
"What good reason could you have? There's nothing, nothing I know or have that will do anything to help you. You can search my computer for as long as you want. There's nothing in it but personal things that I don't think you'd be interested in," she practically sobbed these last words out, her body taut with fear. "I already got you into my e-mail, there's nothing else. Please tell me where my family is," she pleaded.
"Listen, lady, we're not in the business of making people happy or soothing hurt feelings. We are here to get the information we want, and we will stop at nothing to get it. Do you understand?"
"But I don't have what you want. I don't even know what you want. Who sent you? What do they want?"
"Look, lady, Bobby, I don't want to come off as a hard ass, but I don't get paid to explain my job to you. Can you dig that?"
"Hey, boss, I got nothing here but bullshit e-mails, chat rooms, and shopping schedules," Patsy Ciro, the computer geek hired to break into the computers secrets, said.
"Keep trying, there has to be something. They made sure we were in the right place, so keep looking. It has to be there."
"Okay, but I've been through it three times and ... nothing," he reiterated.
"If you are 100 percent certain there's nothing in that computer and I tend to trust your expert opinion, then we have nothing more to do with this family. It's possible we got the wrong place so we have to clean up here. You know what I mean, don't you?"
"I know, boss, I know, but I don't do kids. The wife, the husband, I got no problem, but I draw the line at kids."
"Okay, Patsy, but someone has to do it, I'm not talking about the very youngest kids, they won't remember this ever happened, but the older ones will talk, and they have more than likely seen our faces, so ... they have to disappear like their parents."
"Okay, but don't ask me to do the kids. I'll do the mom, she's a pain in the ass and deserves that and more, if you know what I mean. I'll also do the old man. He's also a pain," Patsy said with a wry little smile on his face.
"As long as we're settled on that, she's all yours, Pat, but we gotta get them done now and get away from here, so let's clean up and I know I don't have to tell you about the computer, you know what to do about that. Okay, let's wrap it up and get the hell out of here."
As Patsy dismantled the system and went around the room with a strong disinfectant, Peter double-checked the other rooms for any other computers that might be a viable source of information. He found a laptop on Billy's desk with various post-it stickers referring to other kids' names and numbers and several dozen game discs scattered around his desk.
Just to be extra cautious, he put the laptop and it's connections into a black sack he slung over his back.
Satisfied that everything was taken care of, he rounded up his team and the two Terwilligers and herded them into a black van parked in the back of the house.
Both parents were blindfolded and tied with plastic ties binding their hands behind them.
Peter took no chances as was his usual practice. All Robert and Roberta could do was pray for their children and each other as the van rolled slowly away from their home.
Chapter Five
Detective Alan Beckman was the antithesis of Ralph Bloom—where Bloom was unassuming and nondescript Beckman was always dressed to the nines whether he was on a stakeout or questioning witnesses or suspects. He always wore an up-to-date fashion suit with a coordinating shirt, tie, breast pocket handkerchief, and fashionable shoes. Even when he was off duty and relaxing, his jeans and matching jean shirt were the epitome of the newest fashion. Alan stood a little over six foot tall and was a fit 195 pounds, making his clothing hang on his frame just right.
Alan was not married but living with a woman who held a high position in the publishing field and made no monetary demands on him, leaving him in a position to maintain his wardrobe and style of life an easy proposition.
Alan lived in a modest to high-priced townhouse, which he owned by virtue of a relative who he had taken care of for years prior to that relative's demise ten years before and had willed it to him.
Beckman liked to live well and with the both of them sharing expenses, he kept his lifestyle just the way he liked it.
He worked out in a gym four to five days a week and looked it. Ralph Bloom admired his friend and partner but did not envy him as his admiration was reflected back from Alan to him.
So it was as they gathered in the squad room surrounded by pictures of the Terwilliger family on a big board and of the house but nothing else.
"Ralph," Alan said, "exactly what have we learned about this situation? Is there anything we have to go on?"
Ralph Bloom looked pensively at the photos on the board and said with a shrug of his shoulders, "Al, I don't see how this entire family disappeared from the face of the earth, but maybe they took an unexpected vacation and are enjoying the sun or the snow somewhere."
"Look, it doesn't seem like he was the kind to take off with or without his family. I mean, his wife works and the kids, at least the older ones have school. You just don't pick up and run off on vacation especially in the middle of the school year without giving some kind of notice. They have checked, and none of the schools have received a request to take the kids out for any amount of time. This looks a bit fishy, don't you think?"
"Well, yes, I do, but let's not get ahead of ourselves. We have the board set up and what we have to do is get a little more information. You and I have to go to the house and go over it with a fine-tooth comb. There has to be something that was left behind, and we have got to find it. I'll get the okay from the chief to get warrants so we won't be accused of breaking and entering, just in case the family comes back without notice."
(Continues...)
Excerpted from NOTHINGby Chick Gallin Copyright © 2012 by Chick Gallin. Excerpted by permission of Trafford Publishing. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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