Choose to Die
By: A_of_s_t
Chapter 1
Crime Scene Investigation HQ, Washington DC
2:32 p.m. Saturday, May 31
Gregory walked to his office with a folder of files in is hand. He opened his office door and tossed the files onto the desk. He sat down and spun around. He stopped himself when he faced the lone window in the office. It was a nice day outside, sun shinning, birds chirping, kids playing, but he was stuck inside, in a dreary, damp office. Life wasn't fair.
He pulled off the rubber band that held the folder closed. His advisor, Commander Harry Fernaindez had been killed. Assassinated. He was a good friend and mentor to Greg. They had spent some time together, and had even given him a promotion just a few days ago...
Fernaindez had been shot, thrice, in the chest, and another bullet lodged in his skull, right between the eyes. This had been planned, not a neighborhood mugging, but something organized, like one of the mobs of DC. Yes, a lucky person could get his bullet to hit the head, but a only a professional could nail someone between the eyes. The three bullets in the chest were from a .20 Uzi, and the head shot was from a .30 caliber round. Trained hit men, or man...
An Uzi was a strange weapon to use for someone that was professional enough to get a shot between the eyes. The Uzi was a reliable gun, but it was a spray-and-pray type gun. No casings were found, either the assassins had picked them up, or the DCPD had missed them. Washington DC was now covered with roadblocks. But, if this hit was as professional as it looked, they wouldn't get caught in a roadblock, they'd be long gone.
But, Gregory was determined to find these assassins. He may have to follow protocol, but he'll find this person. This man was going to pay, and he was going to pay dearly. Let's just say that he would beat the paramedics to the crash site by an hour.
A knock came at the door.
"Come in," Gregory said.
"It's locked," Laura, Gregory's assistant and informer said.
"Sorry," Gregory said as he stood up and unlocked the door.
"Thanks," she walked in. She has a gorgeous figure and had beautiful brown hair that went down her back. She wore high heel shoes and had the usual outfit she had on during work. "Did you manage to look over the information?"
"Yeah. One or more assassins, an Uzi and a caliber fired, three Uzi, one caliber. Fernaindez was found with his gun in hand, but was not able to fire off a shot. He was shot in the front when supposedly running for the only cover, a small fence, which means the assassins were behind it or across the street behind one of the houses-" Gregory started saying.
"We did some testing, and we believe the Uzi was shot from behind the house, while the caliber was fired from behind the fence. Blood splatter shows that the Uzi, of course hit him first. His bullet-armor was able to save him from on shot, but the second bullet hit him just above the shoulder strap and the third hit him on his left side."
"So, the guy with the caliber realized this and shot him in the head?"
"Seems the smart thing to do."
"Any getaway tracks?"
"No, seems like they new they weren't in a rush. The area is clean. We checked everywhere possible, behind the fence, in front of it, the house, the drainage system on the street. Nothing," she responded.
"Damn. We have no leads?"
"None."
"Check Washington DC to see if anyone bought and Uzi or a caliber the last few days. But, even if they did, they probably bought it in cash."
"The department is checking on it right now," she sat down on his desk, casually, as if she did it all the time.
"Wait. What happened to the driver and the chauffeur?"
"They were unconscience at the time we got there."
Some time past, and they just stared at each other. Greg squirmed in his chair a bit and then looked out the window. He ran his hand through his hair and just stared. Mirrored windows, he never got why he could see them, but they couldn't see him. O well, reminded him of that saying," It's better to have it and not need it, then to need it and not have it."
"Should I check the rental car records too?" She asked. Damn, she looked gorgeous.
"Yeah, get a record for the last seven days. Then, cross-reference those with anyone that has had a criminal record."
"That's a lot of people. And it's summer."
"The gun and the car are our only leads... But if they are as good as I suspect them to be, they would have rented the car somewhere else and bought the gun at an even different location."
Might as well get something done, make the Director of DCs CSI think they were doing something. He was going to take his place. Commander McHelin, Commander Gregory McHelin. Sounded nice, but he would get the job in the death of Harry Fernaindez. Life always had to through a curve-ball at you. And life didn't care if it got an HBP either.
"I better get to it then, what are you going to be doing?"
"Looking for more leads at the crime scene."
"I meant tonight," she smiled.
7:59 p.m. Saturday, May 31
So, maybe the assassins weren't as professional as he thought. Commander Fernaindez has been escorted in limo back to CSI HQ when he had be run off the road by a car. At first glance, it looked as if the limo's paint had been chipped off, but when he felt it, he realized it was paint that was from the killer's car. So the car was primer colored, that slimmed it down.
A gas grenade had been thrown into the limo, breaking the glass. Glass, when broken went outward. One, or both, of the shooters have glass on them, unless they had a pitchers aim. The chauffeur and the driver might have fingerprints on them. He hoped they hadn't washed up. The man knew what he was doing, he didn't kill the two escorts, but went just for Fernaindez.
The great and shiny day had turned cloudy and dark now. Greg got into his car and told the police force to have someone watching the crime scene at all times. That was unnecessary, but might as well remind them. Greg had a guard with him in the car and asked were he lived. He didn't really like chauffeurs. He dropped him off and headed home.
His cell phone rang and he answered it. It was Laurie.
"Hi," she said.
"Hello, anything new on your side?"
"No, do you have anything?"
"I did manage to learn that the gunner's car is prime colored."
"That slims it down."
"I'm headed home now. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Remember our... Date."
"I -" he saw a red dot, like one on a sniper ri-
Two shots rang out, and his side window and his windshield exploded. A bullet skimmed his left arm and he yelled out.
"Crap! What the hell is going on? Greg? Greg?!?"
Greg dropped the phone and unbuckles his seat belt. He pulled out his gun from underneath his jacket. He fired two shots blindly into where he saw the red dot. He ducked and opened the car door. He heard a loud bang. A caliber shot... He realized. A police siren could be heard in the distance and he knew they couldn't get here in time. He saw a figure move and fired at it. Two rounds, two bangs, and one yell. The shadow fell. One sniper shot was fired. Greg knew he was dead.
The police car arrived and saw two figures. It skidded to a stop and both cops came out with guns ready. A cop leaned down to the closest one while the other went to the car and helped Greg, lying on the ground. As he leaned down, he saw that the man had a caliber pistol in his hand, and an entrance wound in his head. Greg had fainted.
Chapter 2
Washington DC
6:00 p.m. Thursday, May 29
"Good day."
"Welcome, welcome. Sit down," Frederick reached over his desk and shook Himie's hand.
"So, who is next?" Himie asked.
Frederick stood up and walked to the oak door and told his secretary to take a thirty minute break. He closed the door and locked it, walked over to the window and closed the blinds. He sat down again and piled out a paper from is desk drawer. He drink a bit of water and cleared his throat.
"I'm sorry to say that a very important person of the CSI department is next. Commander Harry Fernaindez. He will be driving on Washington Avenue at 11:00 p.m. tomorrow night. Don't worry, he'll be there."
"Just shoot him?"
"Yeah, but don't kill anyone else. Unless you need too, of course."
"Don't worry, have I ever let you down?"
"Of course not. Good bye, I shall see you...?"
"When I come back."
Himie stood up, shook Frederick's hand and left. Frederick sighed and took out a cigarette. Strange, wasn't it? How easy a life can be taken, and how major its impact will be. He lit the cigarette with a personalized liter, silver casing with an emblem of a lion in front of two crossed swords.
10:22 p.m. Thursday, May 29
The three of them stood in a circle in a deserted alley way. Himie took out three weapons, a sniper rifle, an Italian handgun, and an Uzi. He gave the Uzi to the woman, Subouncski, and the rifle to Hagen. He kept the nicely built Italian handgun and slipped it into its holster under his jacket. If he ever needed it, it would be with him. Better to have it and not need it, then to need it and not have it.
"Our target is Commander Harry Fernaindez. He will be driving on Washington Avenue at 11:00 p.m. tomorrow night. Don't kill the men he's with, just make sure he is dead. We will leave as soon as he is dead, our safe house is where it always is. Be careful Subouncski. We shall not meet again until we meet at the safe house. Good day," Himie said, and left.
11:49 p.m. Friday, May 30
Hagen laid on a balcony of an apartment building on Washington Avenue and waited. Himie was in a primer car ready to hit the limo Harry was going to be in. Subouncski sat behind a house with the Uzi in hand and waiting. Each knew what they were to do.
Lights suddenly filled the street with a yellow light. Hagen tensed up and aimed at the car. Himie rammed the car as he slammed the acceleration and the limo spun. Subouncski stood up and ran towards the limo, she shot out the driver's window and used a special choke on the man to make him pass out. Harry ran out of the car and aimed at her. She shot three rounds off and ducked and ran over to the chauffeur. She jabbed the butt of her gun into his stomach and pushed him to the ground. She bent down and punched him as hard as she could in the temple on his head. Out cold. She heard a shot fired and knew that would be the que to leave.
Chapter 3
DC Hospital, Washington DC
12:47 p.m. Sunday, April 1
Greg had had a couple of stitches put in and was out by lunch time. He had a couple of bandages on his side, but it did not hinder his movement. He walked out with his sides hurting when he walked. They had given him aspirin to calm the pain, but if a painkiller couldn't help a headache, how was it supposed to help bullet wounds?
A brilliant sunshine hit him as he went through the automatic sliding doors. He looked around at the people going to and fro doing their business, kids laughing, couples kissing, and old people jogging.
He, with all his regret, with all his protesting, was, Commander Gregory McHelin. The Commander McHelin.
Where was his guard? Where was his escort? He then saw, standing next to a red 2005 Mustang, Laura Subouncski. He walked over to her, trying not to show that he was in pain. She was whistling, but he couldn't tell what the tune was. She took off her sunglasses and shook her hair.
"It's about time."
"How can you afford a Mustang on you salary?" He asked as she went around and unlocked the car.
"I make some extra money. Hop in, I'll take you home."
With that, he opened the door and sat in the leather seat. He felt for the handle on the side of the seat and lowered the seat back a bit. He hoped he didn't have a sweaty smell to him, he was after all, wearing his suit from Saturday morning.
She started the car and backed up. She started driving towards his house and they had some idle chat. He looked out the window though, not paying much attention to her. When he turned back, she had a gun pointed to his head.
"Don't move, I really don't want to kill you, but, I have my orders."
"What are you doing?" His voice wasn't as steady as he hoped it would be.
"Making five hundred thousand dollars. Now listen and listen carefully. I am going to bring you into a building, your going to want to look around, but your going to put on this blindfold." She handed his a scarf while letting go of the wheel for a few seconds. He hoped they didn't crash. "Your going to follow me and when I tell you to take off the blindfold, you will."
At that time they stopped at a red light. She looked back and forth from the lights to him to the gun. Suddenly, a black sedan hit the driver's seat of the car. The window smashed and sent tiny glass everywhere. Laura dropped the gun and the air bag went off. Greg smacked his head on his side window, cracking it. He pulled out his gun and unclipped his seat belt. He forced the door open and rolled out.
"Gregory, get down!" And Greg stayed down.
Chapter 4
Washington DC
11:22 p.m. Saturday, May 31
"What the hell are you doing?" Laura screamed.
"I am doing what we are meant to do."
"But Greg?!"
"He was necessary to be taken out. We needed to take out the Commander of DC's CSI, and, as you told me, he was going to take his place. He needed to be off-ed," Frederick said.
She began to cry. "I told you, I did not want him involved!"
Hagen and Himie had shot Gregory McHelin. Laura was hysteric. She had loved him, and they had double-crossed her. She didn't know if he was dead or not, but maybe it would be better if she didn't know. Her mascara ran down her cheeks. Water-proof my ass she thought. He had been everything to her.
As if reading her mind he said," He is not dead, don't worry."
She gave him a viscous look and then left. She wiped her eyes and trotted into the bathroom. Her eyes were bloodshot and she looked horrible. Why did this happen to her? Why couldn't just have lived someplace nice, had kids and grown old? Because Himie made her do this. It was his fault, and she was going to kill him.
She was going to kill him. Kill him dead.
Laura's house, Washington DC
11:50 p.m. Saturday, May 31
She was at home taking a hot bath. The steam fogged up the mirror and made the bathroom humid and made her skin stick. She cried and thought of killing herself. It would be easy, just drown or drop a toaster in the shower. But first, she needed to see Greg. She stepped out and pulled the drain. She slipped on some clothes and looked at the clock. Next thing she knew, she had fallen to sleep.
9:27 a.m. Sunday, April 1
O crap! She woke up and looked at the clock. She needed to get to the hospital that Greg was at. She ran to her car, a nice 2005 Mustang. Some people said she looked hot in it. But those were the same people that tried to skateboard down a two story stairwell.
She got a phone call just as she arrived at the hospital. Frederick was calling. Damn him. I'll screw him and then really screw him. He'll wish he had never met her, never even heard the name Laura Subouncski.
"Yes?" She asked.
"Where the hell are you?" Fred asked.
"I am waiting for Gregory McHelin. And if that's not okay with you, go shove it up your ass."
"Oh! Hold on honey. What if I said that I could give you five thousand dollars if you bring him to me? He did after all make one of my men take out his teammate."
She thought for a second. She could bring him in to the building and she could have him try to kill Fred, and in the confusion, she could gut him. "Yes, okay. What exactly do you want me to do?"
"Good girl," as*hole, I'll gut you," all I want you to do is..."
I should make this a book, no?