Last night, I drank with Coco until late. I think it was about 2:30 am when I finally left the bar. However, while she drank like a fish, I realized that she knew nothing about the death of Mr. Evans outside of what I had already found out. After that fruitless encounter, I went back to my apartment to mull over the situation. While I walked home, it occurred to me that I had not yet looked over the scene of the crime yet myself. I cursed myself with my carelessness and changed my direction to head to the parking deck. When I arrived at the parking deck, it was pitch black and eerie feeling, the colorful graffiti on the side of the building thrown into sharp relief with the street light's bright glare. However, once I entered the dark parking deck, I found that no lights were operational on the ground floor. I then started up the staircase, my footsteps echoing up the staircase. However, once I got to the second floor, I heard movement on the floor above, where the crime scene was still blocked off. Knowing that the police had long left for the night, I drew my modified Heckler & Koch USP compact tactical chambered in .45 ACP and flicked on the attached flashlight. I then proceeded up the final flight of stairs, my gun stretched out in front of me, sweeping the stairs before I crossed them. I then reached the final door before the 3rd floor. I stopped just before opening the door and thumbed off the safety. I then pushed open the door slowly and immediately shrunk back as a series of shots pinged off the steel door. I immediately recognized the signature chatter of a full-auto AK-47 and shrank back. At this moment, I realized that this simple late night investigation had turned into a fight for my life. I took a second, waited for the automatic fire to stop, flicked off my flashlight, and ran back down the stairs to the second floor. I then busted through the second-floor door, sprinting across the asphalt, in an attempt to get a flanking angle on the shooters without letting them know. I ran up the ramp to the third floor, and took cover, crouching behind what I assumed was the van the shooter(s?) had come in. I then stopped, collected my breathing and thoughts, envisioning in my head where the shots had been coming from and what position I would need to be in to neutralize the threat. I then straightened, reestablished my stance, and pivoted around the back corner of the van to get a visual on the shooters. All I could really see was the flashlights duck taped to the end of their AKs.
"Amateurs" I muttered to myself as I sighted my pistol up at the first of two dark masses silhouetted in the night. I pulled the trigger twice in rapid succession. A perfect center mass double tap. I then quickly pivoted to the next shooter, my ears still ringing from the first shots and dropped him perfectly as well. Having accomplished this feat of marksmanship, I proceeded to immediately call my commanding officer.
"Yes Leclerc"
"Sir, I've just been in a firefight. I went to the parking deck to look over the crime scene one more time and was attacked by 2 men with AK-47s. Full auto modified ones two. However, I had no choice but to eliminate them. They were amateurs. I'm searching them right now for any signs of identification or reason they were here tonight."
"Jesus Leclerc you don't half stir up trouble. I'll send over the local police units, you stay put."
"Bon. Can do."
"Leclerc, try not to die okay?'
"Oui monsieur." He hung up. I then waited for about 3-4 minutes for the local officers to arrive. While doing so, I continued to search the bodies. On the second body, I found a flash drive. However, the flash drive looked like one of the highly encoded versions that we used for critical mission intelligence at the FFL. Looking at that flash drive, I realized I would not have the tools necessary to break into such a heavily encoded device. However, I know someone who does have the skills. I waited for the police to arrive, gave my statement, and since I was technically in government service and my CO had already talked to the police, I was allowed to go home. I walked in the door, smelling acrid from the amount of gunpowder. I poured a glass of whiskey and swallowed hard. That was the one benefit of living in the US, an abundance of hard liquor. I then sat down at my computer and began to write,
"Mr. Blasi,
I am emailing you to coordinate the investigation into Mr. Evans' death. I believe that Mr. Evans' was killed over financial issues. However, I discovered on his body a flash drive with encrypted files. If you could please take a look at these, it would be greatly appreciated.
Merci,
Leclerc"
I was guessing on the financial issues, as people only have masked men with AKs show up for two reasons. Money and drugs. Or radical terrorism. But I'm guessing Mr. Evans wasn't the latter. But who knows at this point. Within the hour, I got a response,
"Will do sir. Also, what am I receiving in return for my work? How about a little info on my father's whereabouts (I haven't seen him since I was a little boy in Switzerland)."
Man what a greedy little bastard. But I figured that's what I get for working with hackers.
"I'll definitely see what I can do."
