Chapter 30
Dan crouched beside the mailbox of 225 Queens Road in West Hollywood.
The steel barrel of his gun pointed at orange sky, colored so from the reflection of the city lights off low clouds. His night vision goggles—these ones fully charged—were raised, unnecessary at this point.
Moving up the driveway, edging alongside a Porsche, he touched the hood. Slightly warm.
His heart accelerated.
They would find someone at this address, unlike the vacant apartment they had raided earlier.
At the front door, Rick used a high-tech computerized lock-pick device shaped like a small key, which once inserted, tested and found the correct pattern to configure itself in. It hummed softly for a few seconds with a red light on its base, then the sound stopped and a small, flashing green light replaced the red one. He turned it and opened the door.
“Going in,” Rick hissed into the microphone extended from his ear. Dan could hear the other Mammoth agents in his earpiece, acknowledging the beginning of high alert.
They dropped their night-vision goggles over their eyes, bringing a green luminance to the otherwise black foyer and living room. They sidled through the doorway.
There were no chairs or couches in the living room, only pillows and rugs.
Dan hoped there were no kids at this residence. He didn’t want to traumatize any children with a late night raid. He hoped to see no frightened, innocent faces. Based on the child porn found at Malik’s last residence ...
Molested children would be too much for him.
Although he and his wife didn’t regularly attend a church, they believed in God and believed that child molesters would be punished for their sins. Though this didn’t help Dan on nights when he had to interview these children and hear their stories of sexual abuse. On such nights, despite being sworn to secrecy, he had to talk with Gabriella for hours afterwards to rid himself of his ghastly feelings.
His department offered agency psychologists, but they were not the same as his wife. These professionals were clouded with an impersonal atmosphere. They were awkward to converse with. He had to talk to someone he loved, trusted, and deemed to be a warm-hearted person. Besides, anything said in a departmental session could be shared with people higher up in the Bureau. Dan had nothing to hide, but valued a personal life wherever he could influence it to be so. In his profession this was rare, making him treasure privacy all the more.
He navigated safely to the hallway to the bedrooms. No lights were left on, suggesting sleeping residents.
The first room was an empty office. The next contained a man, apparently asleep, tucked neatly under a bed sheet. A mandolin leaned against the wall. A short table with incense sticks and a Buddha statue was in the corner. No children so far, thank God.
Dan stood guard there, glad Rick indicated through hand gestures he would check the rest of the rooms.
Sam, another operative, spoke through Dan’s earpiece, “The outside grounds are secure.”
After a minute he heard Rick in the earpiece, “The house is secure, except for the back bedroom. Sam, cover the window.” When he returned, Rick found the lights and flicked them on as Dan simultaneously ripped off the covers to expose any weapons that might be hidden underneath, Dan pointing his gun at the sleeping man, prepared for the worst.
They flipped up their night vision goggles.
The man awoke, blinking in the light. He had a short black moustache, curling up at the ends. His skinny arms rose to cover his eyes. He appeared short, maybe five-foot, two-inches, dark skinned of Indian descent, from the country of India.
No weapons were lying around. A blue paperback book bordered by yellow rested on the nightstand beside his bed. It was titled, In the Buddha’s Words. Perhaps the Indian man kept it close to repel the guilt from his wrongdoings. A convenient way to continue down an unrighteous path.
A satellite-phone lay beside the book. Dan confiscated it, hoping to intercept any calls that might come through in the future.
“FBI,” Rick announced, flashing a badge. “Maybe you better open the book and read a passage for your sake.”
“What the hell?” the man spoke with a strong Indian accent.
“Malik Pareek?” Dan asked.
He nodded. “What is the meaning of this? It is night, for God’s sake.”
“God’s not watching over you,” Rick informed. “You’ll be coming with us.”
Dan spoke to his team through the mic, “Everyone, let’s wrap it up.”
Carl reported through the earpiece, “Roger. We’ll comb through the place and meet you at headquarters in an hour.”
“Roger that,” Dan replied. He felt good, elated. This was good progress for the case. “Let’s go, Malik.”