Electing to Murder

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

“You can’t make this shit up.”

Kristoff spent the day walking the neighborhood around the Watergate Complex, familiarizing himself with the streets, the buildings, the alleys, the parking spaces and access to the Metro subway lines. Sipping a coffee on a park bench, he watched the flow of people around the massive apartment and business complex. At a street side café, he had a long lunch, read the Washington Post and took in the surroundings. With two bottles of water, he sat on another park bench, read a Vanity Fair and conducted his own surveillance of the area. Having completed his recon of the blocks surrounding the Watergate Complex, he parked his Ford Edge on Twenty-Fourth Street near the George Washington University Medical School.

He wasn’t worried about video surveillance given the dark beard he was wearing along with the lightly tinted dark-rimmed glasses. What he was concerned about was alternative ways out of the area and the contingencies he could count on. For two hours he observed the security of the Watergate East complex, assessing the quality of the security personnel in the building and the local police presence. The building security was of good quality, not the rent-a-cop you typically found. The personnel looked like they could handle themselves, particularly if they came as a team. The video surveillance was robust with cameras visible everywhere.

The most interesting development was the presence of the FBI. He noticed it in the afternoon, when two men entered the building wearing pullover sweatshirts with slight bulges in their backs. Kristoff got up to follow the two men, who were admitted to the building by security without having to use a key card. The two men went up to the eighth floor. Kristoff observed them enter an apartment just down the hall from Connolly’s.

That little tidbit of information locked his plan in.

After he returned from conducting his reconnaissance, he wiped down the condominium and packed his small overnight bag for when he climbed back up. Once he was done with Connolly, he would walk three blocks to his car and simply drive to Reagan National and take his flight to Paris. From there he would disappear, this time for good. This was his last kill for his boss.

The lights in his condominium unit had been off for an hour. The sun had set in the west and there was no moon. It was dark. The lights in the condo below had been off for at least a half hour. He peered over the edge of the balcony for the condo. Given the unique architecture of the Watergate Complex, the apartment Kristoff was repelling from was slightly cantilevered over the eighth and ninth floors below. He secured a mooring hitch knot to the balcony and once again looked over the edge.

* * *

“Detective McRyan, former Special Agent Wire, you have the green light,” Attorney General Gates said. “Connolly’s attorney will meet you at the Watergate. Connolly is there although the attorney hasn’t been able to reach him yet but he will by the time you get there.”

Mac took the pictures of Kristoff, put them in a manila folder and slid them into his backpack.

“Speck and Berman are going with you,” Mitchell added.

“Fine by me,” Mac answered but then he looked to Agents Speck and Berman, “but follow my lead on this because you’re the ones he’ll make the deal with, not me.”

“Good cop?” Berman asked with eyebrows raised.

“Bad cop,” Wire answered.

* * *

Kristoff pulled his gloves tight and then slowly let the black rope down to the level of Connolly’s balcony. He climbed over the ledge, set his feet against the cement pillars of the balcony and pushed away from the building and repelled down to the ninth floor balcony, landing his feet on the balcony rail. He pushed out slightly and dropped his feet to the balcony floor, setting his feet between the small vertical cement pillars. His feet set on the bottom of the balcony, he leaned down and to his right to check the lighting for Connolly’s apartment. The bedroom was dark and the light towards the living room area was dim but he could see the unmistakable flashing of television light.

Once again he set his feet, exhaled and pushed himself out from the balcony and let the rope slide easily through his hands as he swung underneath the ninth floor balcony and landed lightly on the iron railing for the balcony of Connolly’s condo and then froze. He was sensing for movement inside from Connolly.

There was no movement.

He eased himself down to the balcony floor and listened again. The only movement he noticed was from Connolly’s neighbor to the right where a small party was taking place. From inside Connolly’s condo, he heard a cell phone ringing and then a man answering the phone with a: “Hello?” It was the voice of Heath Connolly.

Kristoff tied the rope around the top of the railing. He pushed his back against the exterior wall of the building and reached for the handle for the sliding glass door for the bedroom. Surprisingly, it slid open.

Kristoff slithered inside.

* * *

“Chase, why would I want to talk to them?”

“Listen, you get to hear what they have to say. It’s better for us to know. They’re coming to you, not making you come in. No press, no cameras, just them and us. It’s worth sitting down and hearing them out.”

Connolly exhaled. “Okay, when?”

“Five minutes,” Chase answered.

“Five minutes?” Connolly exclaimed angrily. “Thanks for the warning.”

“Sorry, couldn’t be avoided. They’re pulling up to the building now. I’ll wait for them in the lobby.”

Connolly sighed. “Okay. Call when you’re in the lobby and I will buzz you up.”

He hung up and threw the cell phone down on the counter. He reached for a drink glass and his bourbon bottle and poured himself a drink. He put the heavy drink glass to his lips and let the liquid flow down his throat, warming his chest.

“Who’s coming in five minutes?”

Connolly spun around to see Kristoff with a gun trained on him, a silencer on the end.

“Th… th…the FBI.”

Kristoff pulled the trigger twice. The two shots to the chest blew Connolly back into the counter and then he fell to the floor, landing on his back. The blood flowed out of his chest and through his white dress shirt. Kristoff took three steps and stood over the political mastermind who looked up at him, his eyes blinking uncontrollably, his mouth wide open, gasping for air.

The killer put the end of the silencer to Connolly’s forehead and squeezed.

Heath Connolly was gone.

The phone began to ring and the display showed the call was coming from the lobby.

Kristoff quickly moved to the bedroom and the sliding door. However, two apartments down to the right were two men on the balcony, lighting cigars. They would not be leaving soon. If he tried to climb back up they would see him. He untied the rope and pulled the end and the mooring knot came loose and the rope fell to him. He quickly wound up the rope and put it in his backpack.

Kristoff quickly assessed the situation.

The FBI was coming up from the lobby and they were also likely down the hall. Connolly’s apartment was third from the end of the building. There was a stairway at the end of the hall.

He went to the kitchen. Connolly had a fully stocked liquor cabinet, with several bottles of gin, vodka and whiskey. He took out four bottles and screwed off the caps. Next, he searched the kitchen drawers and found thin dish clothes. From a fifth bottle, he poured Vodka on the towels and stuffed them in the tops of the other bottles to create a wick. Kristoff set one bottle by the door to the hallway and put the other three in his backpack. Then he pulled out another Walther PPK/E and stuffed it in the front of his jeans. The other he held in his right hand, the silencer still on the end.

Kristoff undid the dead bolt. He pulled out his lighter and lit the wick for the first Molotov cocktail.

* * *

“That was Speck,” Agent Cummings reported to Agent Butler, as he looked at the television monitor plugged into the Watergate Security system and the camera focused on Connolly’s front door. “He says they’ll be coming up in about five minutes. We should see them going into Connolly’s condo.”

“Looks like Connolly is opening up already for … them … wait … a …second … what in the hell?”

An arm swung out the door and what looked like a burning bottle was flying down the hallway towards their unit and then there was an explosion. The agents reached for their weapons and opened the door to find the hallway full of smoke and fire.

Cummings jumped into the hallway and looked to his left towards Connolly’s place. He couldn’t see through the smoke and flames which were blazing fifteen feet in front of him. The sprinklers started to go off. Cummings saw a fire alarm on the wall ten feet back. He back stepped, his weapon pointed back towards Connolly’s unit and pulled down the fire alarm. Next to the fire alarm there was a fire extinguisher in a red box.

“Cover me,” Cummings yelled to Butler as he broke open the case for the fire extinguisher.

* * *

The screeching beep tone of the fire alarm pulsated through the lobby of Watergate East as Mac, Wire, Berman and Speck hustled inside. They immediately approached Chase.

“What’s going on?” Berman asked, already on alert.

“I don’t know,” Chase replied, bewildered. “The fire alarm just went off.”

Mac and Wire quickly made their way to the Security Station with Speck, who showed his FBI identification. “What’s going on?”

“We’ve got a fire on eight, in the hallway.”

Mac and Wire jumped over the counter to look at the monitor, the hallway full of smoke.

“Now we’ve got a fire on six as well,” the Security Guard wailed as he pushed the alarm for the Fire Department, “also in the hallway.”

“Evacuate the building,” the security chief ordered.

Mac looked at Wire, “I got a bad feeling,” and then to Berman, who was on her phone, “The guys on the eighth floor monitoring Connolly? Where are they?”

Berman dropped the phone from her ear, “Cummings and Butler are trying to extinguish the fire to get to Connolly’s unit.”

* * *

Kristoff opened the door on the fourth floor and started running down the hallway, all the way towards the other end of the building, away from the stairway that came out in the main lobby. At the end of the hallway, he lit the wick and threw the last of his Molotov cocktails back down the hall and watched the fireball explode. As he closed the door, the stairwell down below started to flood with Watergate residents reacting to the fire alarm and order to evacuate the building. He mixed in with the residents as they made their way down the stairs.

* * *

Cummings and Butler reached the door for Connolly’s unit. Butler covered for Cummings who jumped into the unit, looked to his left and saw feet sticking out by the end of the center island to the kitchen.

“Agent Berman, Connolly is dead, shot in the chest and head.”

* * *

Berman looked to the group, “Connolly is dead.”

“Kristoff,” Wire muttered while Mac grabbed the building diagram off the wall to look at the available exits. Four Washington DC patrol officers came rushing into the lobby. Speck grabbed them and McRyan quickly handed out pictures of Kristoff. “We are looking for this man,” Mac held up a picture. “He is a professional killer and extremely dangerous.” McRyan looked everyone in the eye. “Understand?”

Everyone nodded.

Mac held out the building layout. Groups of two were assigned to all of the exterior exits and four men were assigned to the parking garage. “Grab more men as they come on the scene. Agent Berman and Speck, you have the lobby.”

Mac and Wire started to walk out the front when Mac stopped and went back to the Security Desk. “Show me where the fires are in each of the hallways.”

The security guard pulled up the fires. “The ones on eight and six are on the south ends of the hallways. The one on four is on the north end.”

Mac looked at the building layout and for the north end emergency exit. “Let’s go,” Mac said to Wire and started running out the front of the building and turned left, running to the north.

“What are you thinking?” Wire asked as she pulled out her Sig, and checked the clip.

“That he’s trying to get away from the glut of people that’ll be coming into the lobby,” Mac answered at a full sprint. “Dara, he cut across the building before he set that last fire. He’s coming out on the north end.”

* * *

Kristoff pushed out of the stairwell and out onto the sidewalk along Virginia Avenue. Fire engines were approaching the scene on south bound Virginia Avenue. As the truck passed him, he jogged across the street to the sidewalk on the far side, tearing off the beard and tossing his glasses in the process. Looking up he could see smoke billowing out from the balconies above.

He kept walking and glanced again over to his right and he saw two familiar faces running along the sidewalk towards the stairway he just exited.

* * *

“Cripes, this is chaos,” Wire moaned as they approached the north stairwell emergency exit. Mac and Wire scanned the crowd but did not see any familiar faces. Mac stepped back away from the crowd and out onto Virginia Avenue which was now blocked off one block to the north by squad cars. In the middle of the street, he was able to take in the crowd milling around the Watergate Complex.

“Where would you go? Where would you go?” Mac muttered as he scanned the crowd. “You wouldn’t hang out in the crowd; you’d be looking to get away. You wouldn’t draw attention to yourself. You’d be casual, walking, trying to look normal, but … averting your eyes.” He turned away from the Watergate Complex and looked on the other side of the street.

“What are you looking for, Mac?” Wire asked.

“For someone not watching what’s going on here,” Mac answered scanning back to the north on Virginia. “They’re walking away slowly, casually and trying to avoid attention.”

“Like that man,” Wire pointed to the opposite side of Virginia Avenue, to the south, a man fifty yards away.

* * *

Kristoff had his hands in his pockets and was walking south down Virginia Avenue, two blocks from his car now.

Two blocks from escaping.

Two blocks from retirement.

He took one last look back. McRyan was staring at him.

* * *

“Kristoff!” Mac barked as he took off at a full sprint, Sig Sauer in his right hand. Wire was right behind him.

* * *

Kristoff sprinted straight south down Virginia Avenue behind the fire trucks now parked on both sides of the street, the firemen in the process of connecting hoses to the fire hydrants and pumper trucks. He unzipped his coat and pulled the Walther out of his waistline and when he got to the last of the fire trucks he ducked behind the front of the truck and brought up the gun.

* * *

The first bullet hit a tree behind Mac but the sound of the bullet was unmistakable to him as he ducked between two fire trucks as two more shots ricocheted off the steel of the fire rigs.

“Suppressor!” Mac yelled back at Wire.

“Get down! Get down!” Wire yelled to the confused firemen seeing people with weapons drawn. Mac pointed to his St. Paul Badge on his belt. In the melee, a cop looked like a cop, DC or St. Paul.

“There he goes! There he goes!” Mac heard numerous voices scream. He peeked back around the edge of the fire truck and saw Kristoff running again, a block ahead. Mac gave chase with Wire right on his six.

* * *

Kristoff couldn’t continue straight, he veered left behind a large office building and into a small open air parking lot between the building and a church. The lot was full of parked cars. As he reached the last car in the lot, he ducked behind to check back.

He was a little over a block from his car now. He just needed to slow down the pursuit and get lost between the buildings.

* * *

Mac saw Kristoff dart into the parking lot. He ran to the edge of the large building and Wire pulled right up behind him. He crouched down and peeked around the corner. Two shots hit the building.

“That f*cking suppressor, I can’t get a bead on him,” Mac groaned.

Wire saw the car twenty feet in front of them. “Cover me,” she said. “You should be able to get a fix on him if he fires.”

“You sure?” Mac asked, looking back at Wire who was crouched down behind him.

She nodded, “Yes.”

“Go,” Mac whispered and peeked back left around the corner.

Wire, down in a crouch, ran for the rear of the car. Even with the suppressor on Kristoff’s weapon, Mac got a fix. He zeroed in and fired twice.

* * *

McRyan’s second shot caught the top of his right arm. Kristoff winced in pain as he turned away and ran underneath a grouping of trees and across the opening for an entrance to underground parking for another building. He turned the corner around the building and sprinted across H Street and turned left onto Twenty-Fourth Street. He took the key fob out of his left pant pocket.

* * *

“He’s running again!” Mac said as loudly as he dared and he and Wire gave chase, but a little cautiously now as they worked their way through a grouping of trees. They quickly zigzagged their way from tree to tree covering each other and then both of them spread apart and ran across the opening for the parking garage and came to H Street.

“Now where?” Mac asked urgently.

“He’ll want a car,” Wire answered and pointed to the right. “Cars are parked on Twenty-Fourth.”

Mac started jogging, his weapon up in front, staying close to the building on the corner of H and Twenty-Fourth, Wire fanning out to his right, behind the cars parked on H.

Mac heard the unmistakable sound of a car alarm system being shut off with a key fob on Twenty-Fourth.

He looked to Wire who nodded.

Mac carefully pushed his way around the corner. Halfway up the block he saw a man approaching a car.

Then he saw another man.

* * *

The assassin stepped out of his car and walked back towards Kristoff’s. Kristoff was looking back down the street for his pursuers.

* * *

Kristoff turned back to get into the car when he saw him.

The man was unmistakable.

It was the assassin Paolo.

The Bishop betrayed him.

Kristoff instinctively tried to raise his right hand to shoot but wounded, he was too slow. The first shot from Paolo hit him in his chest and knocked him off balance.

The second shot blew him off his feet and backwards onto the pavement.

Kristoff struggled for air as he looked up to see Paolo approaching. The assassin gauntleted his right hand into his left palm. It was just like ten minutes ago with Connolly. You had to finish the job.

“Sorry,” Paolo said flatly.

“DROP THE GUN! DROP IT NOW!” Kristoff heard voices yell. Paolo raised his right arm towards the voices. The first shot into Paolo’s chest caused a small gasp. The second shot blew him back and the third shot hit him in the forehead, dropping him.

Kristoff couldn’t move and his breaths were getting short. He heard footsteps approach and then there he was standing over him, Mac McRyan. The St. Paul detective looked down at him, gun at the ready. McRyan stepped over him and with his left foot, kicked the Walther away and then he leaned down. Wire appeared in view and she had her cell phone out, holding it with two hands, filming.

“Kristoff, Kristoff, look at me, look at me,” McRyan directed. “Nicholas, look at me. The Bishop sent that man to kill you. The Bishop, who is he? Who is he?”

Kristoff smiled a bloody smile. His boss never wanted to leave any loose ends. He’d spent ten years tying up his boss’s loose ends. Only now, did he realize that he was a loose end, the last tie back to the boss, the last liability to take care of.

“Who’s the Bishop! Tell me!” McRyan pleaded with him. “He betrayed you, Nicholas. Tell me who he is?”

The Bishop would not get away this time.

Kristoff gasped as he leaned up to speak. “Pope.” He coughed and felt the blood come out of his mouth. “Christian … Pope.”

* * *

McRyan’s jaw dropped. “Christian Pope? Christian Pope is the Bishop? Christian Pope of Pope Oil & Gas, P. O. & G. is the Bishop?” he asked Kristoff again.

Kristoff gave one last smile and gasped, “Y… y… yes, yes.”

He looked back at Wire, who was shocked.

McRyan looked back down to Kristoff, hearing the sirens approaching their position. They wouldn’t arrive in time for him. The killer went still. Mac checked for a pulse and there was none. Kristoff was gone.

Mac looked up to Wire who’d been filming with her phone. “Tell me you got that?”

She played with her phone and played the video back, “Oh yeah. I got it, Mac.”

Mac stood up and shook his head at Wire, a look of utter disbelief on his face. “You can’t make this shit up.”