The Mary Shelley Club by Goldy Moldavsky (ebook reader for manga TXT) 📕

a break in the terrorist case. There were a couple of teenagers in the vacant lot where Nikola and Adem dropped the Blazer. They saw them go to a house about half a block away and talk to a man there, a Korean guy named Kim. The two suspects pulled out of Kim’s garage in a red Dodge Dakota and left the neighborhood. We checked into Mr. Kim and found that he only bought the house about eight months ago, with cash. He moved up here on a business visa in March, doing an import/export thing with local craftwork.”

“Sir, you’re going on the witness of two teenagers in that field at two am? Chief, they were probably a couple of stoners. Can we rely on them?”

“I thought of that, but these two are definitely not stoners. They’re a couple of kids who were finishing up their winter camping requirements for their Eagle Scout badges. If we can’t trust them at their word, then I don’t know who we can trust. One of them is also in the Police Explorers post and took detailed notes of what he saw, including the plate number of the Dakota. We traced the plate to another Korean guy who left the state a year ago. FPD is looking for the pickup as we speak.”

“SERT is headed there now?” Lonnie asked.

“Yes. I want you to deliver the warrant at the door, since you speak Korean. Did your guys in Salt Jacket verify the identities?”

“Beyond a doubt, sir. All three of them said these were absolutely the right men. Bannock also suggested a couple of ideas we may want to check.”

“Tell me about it later. We have a warrant to search Kim’s house, and want to hit him before he gets a chance to run,” he said as they moved out the door of the office and walked quickly down the hall.

Fifteen minutes later, a dozen police and trooper vehicles pulled up to the curb on the road outside Kim’s house. The SERT team set up sniper positions at several points around the house. Once all avenues of approach and departure were covered, two assault teams made their way to the front and rear of the residence.

Trooper Wyatt walked calmly up to the porch and the front door of the house, a signed warrant in her hand. The assault team got in positions on both sides of the entrance, weapons trained on the door.

Light shone through several windows on both floors. Lonnie listened to the muffled sound of men’s voices somewhere in the back of the house.

She keyed her radio. “Sounds like more than one in there. Here I go.”

Lonnie reached up and rang the doorbell once. The bing-bong tone was still hanging in the air as a middle-aged Korean man answered. He looked up at her with a stone-like expression. On seeing the police officer, his nostrils flared and his mouth turned down. His already narrow eyes squeezed even smaller. “Neh?”

The bluntness in his voice was rude, especially by Korean standards.

“Mr. Kim, I am Trooper Wyatt with the Alaska State Troopers.” She held out the paper to him.

“I have a warrant to search your house in connection with the shooting of a Fairbanks police officer.”

He crunched his thick eyebrows in confusion. The corners of the lips turned further down. “Muhloh? Yango mal mot heyo.”

“Nanun Trooper Wyatt imnida, Alaska Kyangchal,” she replied and continued in Korean, “I speak fluent Korean, so don’t try to get away with anything. We have a warrant and will be searching the house now.”

She signaled with her hand, and the assault team, faces shrouded in black balaclavas, moved swiftly up the steps and into the house, weapons raised to shoulder-height, sweeping the muzzles from side to side and up and down as they scanned the rooms. The officers split into two groups. One group went up the stairs to the second story, while the other continued to clear the lower floor.

The old man looked shocked. His shock quickly gave way to an overt anger. “What is the meaning of this?” he shouted in heavily accented English, “I am here legally!”

“We know that, sir, but last night two murder suspects came to your house and then left in your vehicle, a red Dodge Dakota.”

The old man’s expression became blank, like a wax mannequin. Only Kim’s eyes gave the appearance of something like emotion. That emotion was hatred; sparking, fuming hatred. “I do not know what you are talking about.”

The radios suddenly sounded with a torrent of voices. “Stop! Freeze!”

The explosion of a shotgun jolted everyone’s attention to the back door. A man cried out in pain.

“Get the medic back here!” said a voice on the radio. “Suspect tried to flee and we shot him with a beanbag round.”

As the backyard team managed their captive, another voice called into the radio. “7-4, 7-23 come upstairs. You need to see this.”

Commander Stark charged up the stairs, taking two at a time. Wyatt motioned to Mr. Kim to lead her up to the second floor of the house. Kim ignored her. Wyatt put a hand on her pistol grip. “Lead the way, Mr. Kim. Now.”

Kim grunted defiantly, then turned and walked up the stairs.

Once they topped the steps, one of the assault team members called out from the end of the hall. “Over here, Wyatt!”

She and Kim moved down the wide hallway to an open bedroom door. Inside the room, the assault team had placed on the bed three AK-74 assault rifles with folding stocks, two sets of night vision goggles, and several semi-auto pistols. On a nightstand nearby sat a pair of military-style headset radios and a satellite phone.

One of the SERT troopers picked up an AK and looked at the fire selector/safety switch on the side. He pointed to the imprinted icon on the stamped