“Fire On High” is a work of fiction, and any resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental. All characters and settings © Tigermark 2003-2019 unless otherwise noted. Request permission before using them, please.
The characters of Anatol Altaisokova and Melinda Altaisokova are my names for characters © Max Blackrabbit. They appear in this story with his permission. The characters of Brandy, Maxwell, Tonya and Zig Zag are also © Max Blackrabbit and appear here with his permission. Events and information relating to Tonya, Anatol, and their family are presented here, but are not to be considered canon to those characters or any other story but this one. ZZ Studios, and all characters associated with ZZ Studios, James Sheppard, and Marvin Badger © James Bruner and appear here with his permission. Although characters from and events referring to Zig Zag the Story appear here, this story is not canon to that one, and the author will disavow any knowledge of this story. Wanda Vixen © Chris Yost and appears here with his permission. Sabrina Mustidalae © Eric W. Schwartz and appears here with his permission. This story is not canon to Sabrina Online the comic, or Sabrina Online the Story, either. Matt Barstock, Angie Rockwell, Intermountain Charter, The Bitch, and her crew, and Jerry Kitt © Silver Coyote. See their story HERE. Gail Rutherford © me and is not canon to any other story involving ZZ Studios. Gabrielle Ryder and Jean LeBrun © Aslaug, from her Transitions stories. See them at her site, The Axe Shed, available from the links page. Aramis Dagaz is© his player and appears here with his permission.
Author’s Note: Lewiston, Maine’s airport, identifier KLEW, is actually uncontrolled. That is, it has no control tower. Poetic license was used for this story, so Alex and company talk with a control tower whilst aviating there.
Chapter 130
End Game, Part 2
Saturday morning found Alex and Corrie having breakfast and preparing to go into work. Both Helipro and Kentiger had flights scheduled for the day, so they were taking their turn at being owner/manager on duty. Most likely, both Loni and Kath would be at their desks at least a couple of hours.
“We have four flights today,” Corrie was saying. “They should be done by fourteen hundred. Then I’ll come ovah and join you.”
“There are three going out and RONing, and four out and back for Kentiger. The last is supposed to be done by seventeen hundred,” Alex replied. So far, the hectic schedule hadn’t been a problem, either professionally or personally, for them.
They finished up breakfast and coffee, got their things together for work, and prepared to leave. As they walked out, Alex set the home alarm. They then went, paw-in-paw, carrying briefcases in their other paws down to the garage. Working together, they had the MD-520N out, preflighted, and ready in a short time. Alex set the separate alarm on the hangar/garage and they got in. In a few minutes, startup and pre-takeoff checks complete, they lifted off for Bluegrass Field. Corrie was on the controls as they flew along over I-64. The morning was cool, cloudy, and overall rather dreary. No rain was forecast, but it wouldn’t surprise either of them if some sprinkles happened.
Neither mentioned Mastifson or the threat he posed. They’d talked at length the previous night and had concluded not to run or hide. If they did, he’d just keep coming until a final confrontation happened. Better for him to try whatever now while the authorities were watching than have six months of hiding go by and have him strike after the police looked away.
They flew on toward town, angling Northward to pick up the approach into Bluegrass. At five miles out, they were given to the tower to finish their approach. It wasn’t long before Corrie sat the skids down on the ramp at Helipro.
“Luv, I’ll see you around fourteen hundred,” the lioness said as they secured the rotor blades of the helicopter and prepared to part company.
“See you then, Love. Tell the Angels and Kath I said hello,” Alex replied as they hugged and kissed goodbye.
“Same for Loni. Love you!” Corrie added as they stepped apart.
“Love you, too, Chopper Gal,” Alex called as he walked away toward Kentiger.
The lioness walked in the door at Helipro to find Kath, Harmony, and Kate chatting as the pilots waited for their passengers to arrive.
“Good morning Angels,” Corrie greeted them. All three smiled. It was still cool enough for all of them to be wearing their Helipro jackets. Harmony had been very appreciative of hers, stating it was the first time since the Air Force that a business had thought enough to provide one.
“Good morning, Corrie,” Kath returned the greeting. The other two said hello as well.
“First pax are due for Kate in about thirty minutes,” the collie continued. “Then Harmony had two U.K. flights, and Kate has the last one out to Thoroughbred farms and back. Farrah is supposed to stop in at Noon in case we have any sightseeing walkins.”
“Sounds great! It’s so good to see everyone integrating so well. I’ll be at my desk if anything comes up,” Corrie advised as she headed for the pilot’s lounge area.
Meanwhile, Alex had walked in to Kentiger to find Loni and Duncan talking at her desk.
“Morning, Alex,” they both called, and then Loni continued. “Only two more to take off, then it’s just a matter of waiting for them to get back or settle for the night.”
“Morning you two. Thanks, Loni. I’ll be in my office if you need me,” Alex replied.
They nodded as the tiger went back to his office and sat down. As the time passed, and he heard the last two crews come in and leave, Alex found it harder and harder to concentrate on what he was doing. Thoughts and concerns about Mastifson continually pushed to the fore. Not for himself. He was certain that, now forewarned, he could handle anything the Rottweiler tried. He was concerned that Corrie might be hurt if she were to be caught between them. If Mastifson harmed her in any way, he was uncertain he’d be able to control himself enough not to shred the canid. With all that had happened. Jason. NASA. The various attempts on him. He knew if he ever really started, he wouldn’t stop.
Shaking his head, he put that thought away. Aramis and his team would stop the canid, and that would be that. The conclusion sounded hollow to him, as he felt his combat instincts beginning to kick in. If the Rottweiler got that close, it would be his final mistake.
# # #
Aramis and Diana were sitting a couple of blocks away from Mastifson’s street. It had been early when they drove by to make sure the vehicle was where the tracker said it was. They even drove over to Bluegrass Field to see if Colonel O’Whitt was working. They had just been in time to watch the small white and black helicopter land and the newlyweds part company. Satisfied that everyone was where they were supposed to be, they drove back over and parked where they were now. The time dragged on, and Aramis looked at his watch. 1530.
“Doesn’t he go out for lunch?” he asked, startling Diana.
“Huh?! Oh, well, maybe. Most of our Saturday surveillance has been on him when he’s travelled. We only have one Saturday previous to this when he stayed in town. I seem to recall he didn’t leave home until suppertime.”
Aramis half-shrugged. Everything they’d seen told them it would be this weekend, but so far, the Rottweiler hadn’t left his home. Just then, his laptop *pinged* a notice for an incoming email. He quickly opened it, reading through the headings to the body of the message. It was from Chief Agent Perez.
Aramis and Agent Forsham,
Test results just arrived via courier from the FBI Crime Lab. Results copied to the BAU, Agent Forsham’s supervisor, and the federal prosecutor and judge for the federal district court. DNA match on fur in Tyvex suit to Mastifson. Gloves held residue of Fontadyne, matching concentration used to kill Daniel Caver and other two victims, including the undercover officer. Fur found on old clothing and gloves match the victim’s DNA. The judge in that district just issued an arrest warrant for Mastifson, and the judge in Lexington’s district has issued a search warrant. Copies of warrants and analysis results attached. Assemble your team and go get him.
Good luck,
Perez.
Aramis read it through twice, as well as insuring all the attachments were received and saved, and then showed the email to Diana. Finally! They had him! Remembering his promise, he called Sheila Roland on his cell phone.
“Roland, hello again Aramis,” the Doberman femme answered after a couple of rings.
“Roland! We got him! The DNA results just came in from a bag he discarded at the hotel from his last out of town trip. Have you got those couple of officers nearby!”
The Doberman grinned, as much at Aramis’ enthusiasm as at the chance to get Mastifson.
“Slow down, Wonder Pup. That’s great. Do we have a warrant?”
Aramis had a mobile printer for his laptop and was printing off copies of everything as they spoke.
“Yes, warrant for his arrest, warrant to search his home and car.”
Roland thought a brief second, then replied, “Give me two hours. I’ll have a SWAT team with me, and a Forensics team. Unless he moves, sit tight. I don’t want to get there and find you both dead from a drug O.D.”
It was difficult, but Aramis and Diana agreed. They ended the call and spent the next two hours sitting on their paws and hoping Mastifson stayed put. At almost exactly two hours later, an unmarked police car, followed by a SWAT Peacekeeper APC and a Crime Scene van, pulled up beside them. They got out and met with Detective Roland.
“Aramis, Diana, good to see you. Ready to do this? Let me see the warrants,” the Doberman detective greeted them.
“Roland,” they both answered, and then Aramis continued. “Here you are. Copies of both warrants.”
The canid looked them over, down to verifying the signatures, and found everything in order. She gave a nod to the SWAT team and Forensics team leaders, who were standing by their respective vehicles. Everyone got back in and Roland called on one of the tactical radio frequencies.
“Let’s go. We hit fast and hard. Feds follow the SWAT team in. The Forensics team can have the apartment and car after we get the suspect.”
The small convoy of vehicles sped the two blocks to Mastifson’s apartment building without lights and siren. They quietly stopped and the team of five SWAT officers in full armor and gear practically exploded out of the APC. In a second, they were in the door and up the stairs. Roland, Aramis, and Diana were right behind them. They arrived at the second-floor landing and went in the door there just in time to see the SWAT furs break in Mastifson’s door with a small battering ram called a Dynamic Entry Tool. The officers poured in, firearms up and ready as they shouted, “POLICE! SEARCH WARRANT!” every time they went into a new area. It took under thirty seconds for them to sweep the living area, bedroom, kitchen, and bathroom. As the last closet was checked and the last call of “Clear!” went out, they realized that Mastifson was not there.
Roland was looking at them perplexed, beginning to look a little angry. Aramis could only shrug.
“He came home and went inside. The car never moved. If he left, it was on foot. Let me check my laptop. We set up a camera on the building across the street watching the building. It sends the signal to my computer.”
The felid agent pulled a small laptop out of the inside pocket of his coat. At Roland’s odd look, he again shrugged.
“Special large pocket. They just started coming out with these a few months ago to accommodate the new laptops.”
After a few button punches and clicks, the screen revealed a time-lapse of the camera view since yesterday. It showed Mastifson coming home, the lights coming on in his apartment. His shadow passing the shades on the front windows from time to time, then the lights going off. The time stamp showed them coming on very early this morning, before sunup, then going back out after about thirty minutes. Roland looked around as the Forensic team came in and began to do a methodical search for evidence. She noticed the back door and fire escape stairs.
“Could he have gone out this way?”
“Not since we arrived,” the SWAT team leader said as his team relaxed. “I sent two around back to make sure he didn’t skitter out.”
Roland nodded. Before Aramis or Diana could say anything, one of the Forensic officers gave a low whistle. They all looked at him, and he pointed.
“There’s enough Fontadyne here to kill half of Lexington. Also boxes of those black Tyvex suits and shoe covers and nitrile gloves. A big bag of old black clothes, too.”
“But not the hat or goggles or coat. He’s out hunting,” Diana stated. Roland didn’t hesitate. She pulled a radio off her belt and called.
“Lexi Ee Oh Cee, Detective Twenty Five. I need an A P B. BOLO on one Jefferson Mastifson the Third, male Rottweiler, dressed in a black coat, black hat, night red goggles, carrying or using a black cane. Be aware, subject is armed and dangerous. Black cane sprays Fontadyne mist. Subject wanted for First Degree Murder. M. O. subdues victims with mist, then injects a lethal dose of Fontedyne.”
“Detective Twenty Five, E O C, Copy all. BOLO going out.” The dispatcher replied. The radio message began to go out across all the radio frequencies in use.
The team had found keys and unlocked Mastifson’s car. Some of the Forensics team was going through it now with a fine-toothed comb while the evidence in the apartment was cataloged and sealed.
“If he’s in Lexington, we’ll find him,” Roland stated.
Aramis suddenly looked horrified as realization dawned on him.
“I don’t think he’s in Lexington. He’s at Colonel O’Whitt’s!”
He pulled out his cell phone and called the tiger’s number. It went straight to voicemail.
“Voicemail. I’ll leave a message in case, but maybe we can catch them before they leave for home. They’re both at the airport at work as of before we started the raid.”
Aramis left a message not to go home and clicked off. He looked at Diana, who merely rolled her eyes at their luck and motioned for him to come on. Roland joined them.
“The teams have got this. I want that sonovacur off my streets. I’m coming, too.”
The trio went quickly out of the building and got in their vehicles. Lights and sirens going this time, they tore out for the airport. When they arrived, they pulled up short. The O’Whitt’s helicopter was gone.
# # #
Mastifson yawned. It was heading for 1800, and the shadows were growing very long. It had stayed cloudy, promising that darkness would come early that evening. So much the better, he decided. He went ahead and started getting into his kit. He looked about to insure he couldn’t be seen, then stripped to his underwear and methodically donned the Tyvex suit, then the pants and shirt over it. Next came the odd shoes and shoe covers. He taped those to the suit legs. Next came the mechanic’s gloves, then the nitrile gloves over that. Those were taped to the suit arms. His cane was ready, and the two syringes he’d prepped were in the inner pocket of the coat. He put that on, but he waited on the masks, goggles, and hat. As the light faded and it grew cooler, Mastifson put the hood up and the surgical and cover masks on. The goggles and hat would go on last.
He had considered while he waited, and if he caught O’Whitt out alone, he would reveal himself when he pried the tiger’s eyes open to watch him die. It would be so satisfying and would assuage his honor and complete his vengeance. Then he would be done. He could go back to his regular life of work and philandering, free of the tiger’s defiance and meddling.
It was then he felt the first inkling. That there might be more to drive him. That there might be others who had wronged him. That deserved his ire and to be his prey. Even now his ex-wife came to mind, as did his ex-lover who betrayed him. Perhaps even his uncle, who’d abandoned him.
He shrugged. First things first. It was then he heard the beat of helicopter blades in the distance. Keeping back under the trees so as not to be seen, he watched the white and black MD-520N come in from the West. It descended as it went past, then turned into the wind and approached. Lights came on down the hill, revealing a helipad and hangar. The helicopter settled, and the rotors began to wind down. Mastifson resisted the urge to move so he could observe the happy couple walk up the hill, contenting himself with observing as they put the helicopter away. The helipad lights went out, and in a few minutes the lights came on in the house. It was now near full dark.
The Rottweiler donned the goggles and hat and eased out of cover. He worked his way down the hill until he was parallel to the house. There didn’t seem to be any reason for anyone to come out the back, so he crept around to a shallow depression partway between the house and the garage/hangar. Laying flat, he watched as the exterior lights, set to a timer and illuminating the house but not the yard, come on. Below him, looming as a dark bulk in the dark slope, was the hangar.
Deciding this was a good spot, all he had to do now was wait.
# # #
Alex and Corrie arrived home at a little past 1830. Alex had flown back out from Lexington, keeping his paw in on rotorcraft operation. As they arrived at his home, he went past and came around into the wind. A signal from the radio activated the lights on the hangar and helipad. He deftly sat the little MD down.
“Bonzah! Great job, Luv,” Corrie enthused as the rotor spun down.
“I had a great teacher,” Alex replied, grinning. They both laughed and got out. They moved the bird into the hangar and secured it, shut the lights off, and walked up the hill along the driveway to the house. Normally, home was a relaxing, safe haven for them. With the threat Mastifson posed, they now felt much more tension. Still, home was home, and as they entered the front door, they both relaxed.
As Alex locked the door and set the alarm, he observed, “It’ll be dark early this evening with this cloud cover.”
The tiger was being very wary, his combat instincts on full. His lioness could feel the tension, and felt it rise in herself as well. It was almost as though they expected Mastifson, clad as the Shadow, to leap out and attack. They could almost feel that he was near. Now that they were inside and secure, the feeling relaxed. They were home. The house was secure. Mastifson couldn’t get in without setting off an alarm, or trying to disable it, which would set off an alarm of its own. After putting their work briefcases away and relaxing for a short while, they started on dinner. The routine of that put them even more at ease, and soon they’d all but forgotten about the Rottweiler. They were almost half way through the meatloaf recipe they were working on, a gift from Jedi, when Corrie went to the fridge.
“Hey Luv, are we out of ketchup?”
Alex, who was browning the hamburger, looked up sheepishly. “Sorry Love. I emptied the bottle for our fries Thursday. I forgot to bring another one up.”
Jedi’s recipe called for both tomato sauce and ketchup. Living out as far as they did, part of the new hangar/garage was a large storage pantry. They had two cases of ketchup there, and Alex had intended to bring some up for the fridge and the kitchen pantry. He started to go for the needed items, but Corrie stopped him.
“Nothing doing! You keep browning the hamburger. I’ll go get it, it’s just down in the garage.”
Alex looked dubious. He didn’t like the idea at all, but he could see his bride was determined. With no little trepidation, he gave a nod.
“Okay, but be careful.”
She kissed him lightly and walked out of the room. He went back to not burning or overcooking the hamburger. Corrie went to the front door, deactivated the alarm, and walked out and down to the garage. There were sidelights along the driveway to guide her as she walked. She deactivated the alarm at the garage and went inside. Grabbing two plastic bottles of ketchup, she came out, relocked the door and set the alarm.
She was about halfway back up the hill when she heard a sound to her left.
# # #
It was now full dark. Mastifson resigned himself to the fact that O’Whitt might not come back out. That he might be this close, only to have to withdraw and come back again. If the lights in the house went out without O’Whitt showing, he resolved to leave and try again the next weekend. He might have to watch through several weekends to get O’Whitt’s pattern down. He thought of the lioness. Again, he hoped to avoid having to harm her. Grimly he knew, though, that if she interfered or saw his face, he’d have to end her as well. That was why he’d brought two prepared hypodermic syringes.
Such were his thoughts as he lay flat on his stomach in the grass, a Shadow in the shadows. Then suddenly the front door opened, casting light from inside across the yard. Mastifson felt he was still in shadow, as the shallow depression kept him out of the light. O’Whitt’s lioness walked out and shut the door behind her, heading down the driveway toward the garage. Sidelights along the driveway had also come on. As she turned off the alarm and went into the garage, Mastifson realized his opportunity. He rose to a crouch and slipped over to near the driveway. He stayed back from the sidelights, counting on the fact that they spread their light low and his dark outfit wouldn’t reflect any light. In a couple of minutes, the lioness came back out, locked the garage, and set the alarm. Matifson was glad he wouldn’t have to try to get inside. As she walked along, the Rottweiler timed his spray. At precisely the right moment, he put the cloud of aerosol mist in front of her.
She reacted to the sound, stopping right where she was, but the cloud of mist rolled on and engulfed her face. In a second, she began to wobble on her feet, dropping what she’d been bringing up from the garage. Mastifson stepped forward and caught her as she fell, her head lolling over to the side.
“Fear not, beautiful femme. You are not my target, merely my bait,” he said, his voice muffled by the masks but attempting a soothing tone. He then dragged her on up the driveway to where he squarely faced the front door. Realizing he’d never be heard otherwise, he pulled his masks down. He balanced the lioness on his left arm and removed one of his syringes from his pocket. He uncapped the needle and held it so that a quick downward stab would allow it to go in with his thumb pressing its contents home. Setting himself with the syringe hovering over the lioness’ exposed neck, he bellowed out his challenge.
“O’WHITT! O’WHITT! COME OUT AND FACE ME!!”
End of Chapter 130
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