Prime Impact Read online

  Prime Impact: Book Two in the Tyler Bannister FBI Series

  © 2020 C.W. Saari. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopying, or recording, except for the inclusion in a review, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Published in the United States by BQB Publishing

  (an imprint of Boutique of Quality Books Publishing, Inc.)

  www.bqbpublishing.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  978-1-945448-63-8 (p)

  978-1-945448-65-2 (e)

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2020932093

  Book design by Robin Krauss, www.bookformatters.com

  Cover design by Rebecca Lown, www.rebeccalowndesign.com

  First editor: Caleb Guard

  Second editor: Olivia Swenson

  Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  CHAPTER 41

  CHAPTER 42

  CHAPTER 43

  CHAPTER 44

  CHAPTER 45

  CHAPTER 46

  CHAPTER 47

  CHAPTER 48

  CHAPTER 49

  CHAPTER 50

  CHAPTER 51

  CHAPTER 52

  CHAPTER 53

  CHAPTER 54

  CHAPTER 55

  CHAPTER 56

  CHAPTER 57

  CHAPTER 58

  CHAPTER 59

  CHAPTER 60

  CHAPTER 61

  CHAPTER 62

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  “Be true to yourself, help others, make each day your masterpiece, make friendships a fine art, drink deeply from good books―especially the Bible, build a shelter against a rainy day, give thanks for your blessings and pray for guidance every day.”

  ― Coach John Wooden

  OTHER BOOKS BY C.W. SAARI

  The Mile Marker Murders, Book 1 in the Tyler Bannister FBI series

  CHAPTER 1

  ATLANTA - 2004

  “Paper targets don’t shoot back,” Special Agent Tyler Bannister muttered to no one in particular as he reloaded his remaining rounds. This was his first visit to the FBI range since being wounded and killing a man earlier this year. Bannister’s mind flashed back to a face-to-face standoff with the serial killer who had murdered his best friend. The killer had fired once as Bannister’s two return rounds proved fatal.

  The firearms instructor’s voice crackled through the loudspeaker from the range’s tower. “Ready on the left? Ready on the right? All ready on the firing line? Shooters, watch your targets.”

  At the first sound of the horn, Bannister and fourteen other FBI agents took two steps forward to the five-yard line, drew their automatics, and fired twelve rounds, including one magazine change, in ten seconds.

  When the horn sounded a second time, firing stopped and the instructor bellowed, “Any alibis?” No hands went up for a jammed bullet or other malfunction. “Holster a safe and empty weapon. Pick up your empty magazines and go forward to score your targets. Agent Bannister, you’ve got a call up here.”

  Bannister secured his Sig Sauer nine-millimeter before turning around and giving a thumbs-up signal. He went forward and pulled his target from its stand before walking sixty yards down a concrete path back to the firing range’s tower at Sweetwater State Park outside Atlanta. After climbing ten steel stairs, he pushed open the door and was welcomed by a blast of cold air. The instructor swiveled his chair around and handed him the phone.

  “Bannister here,” he said.

  He was answered by the monotone voice of the Assistant Special Agent in Charge (ASAC) of the Atlanta field office. “This is Gary Witt. Assistant US Attorney Kendall Briggs has been murdered. His body was found early this morning by a foreman for a marble company in Dahlonega.”

  Bannister became rigid. This was the second time in a year when one of his friends was murdered. Briggs was one of the few public officials Bannister respected. He was thorough in his case preparation and tough in court. He was just as sharp a competitor on the racquetball court where the two faced off regularly.

  “How’d it happen?”

  Witt did not answer Bannister’s question.

  “I’m assigning the case to you. Derek Barnes will assist.” Bannister was next in rotation for major case assignment. He groaned, not because of the assignment, but because Witt knew Barnes was scheduled to leave for Lima, Peru, next month to help the Peruvians with their counterterrorism program. If the decision had been up to Bannister, he would have tasked someone else to assist with the case, but the Atlanta agents had all grown accustomed to Witt, who frequently used the “Ready, Fire, Aim” approach to problems.

  “Who’s handling the crime scene and where’s the body now?” Bannister asked.

  “The medical examiner transported the body from the quarry to the Lumpkin County morgue where he’s going to perform the autopsy. The GBI was first on the scene and they have an inspector there now. I don’t have to tell you this is our jurisdiction. Coordinate with them but don’t leave any doubt we’re the lead dog.” By GBI, Witt referred to the Georgia Bureau of Investigation.

  “Sure. Do you have any other details?”

  “Only that the murder scene is isolated,” Witt said.

  “Do we know how Briggs was killed?”

  “It looks like someone cut his throat.”

  “Well, that someone must have incapacitated him. Briggs was big, strong, and extremely quick. What do you want me to do first?”

  “Grab Barnes and head out to Dahlonega. I want one of you to witness the autopsy and both of you to report downtown and search Briggs’s office. Mercedes Ramirez is on standby. She’ll meet you with an evidence kit at the federal building. How long before you and Barnes can get to the crime scene?”

  “Barnes is here at the range with me. We just finished shooting. We’ll clean up and get there as fast as we can.”

  “Good. I dispatched the ERT to search his condo. The GBI has agents there now. They got the condo management to open the locked door. They did a quick check to ensure no one else was in the unit before sealing it. Any questions?” Witt asked. ERT meant the Evidence Recovery Team.

  “Yes. Where is Briggs’s condo?”

  “It’s one of those fancy lofts.” Witt gave Bannister an address on Marietta Street.

  “One request, Gary. I’d like the Rapid Start Team to be activated. Ask them to begin loading data on everything we know about Briggs.”

  “I’ll do that. I plan on being with US Attorn
ey Winston Prescott, who’s scheduled a press conference for five o’clock.”

  Neither Bannister nor Barnes had their coats and ties today, but at least they were wearing FBI polo shirts with collars. Bannister appreciated that Barnes was a no-nonsense agent. He worked as hard as anyone on the task force and rarely smiled. His piercing gray eyes along with his deep gravelly voice usually let anyone he was interviewing know right away he wasn’t a person to mess with.

  Bannister briefed Barnes after they turned in their scores.

  “Witt named me as case agent,” Bannister said as the two agents walked to their cars.

  “I want you to go to the ME’s office to witness Briggs’s autopsy. He was my friend. I just don’t want to have to deal with that.” ME was short for medical examiner.

  “I understand.” Barnes’s response was automatic. As a former police officer in Phoenix, he’d dealt with death many times and knew enough to leave Bannister alone with his thoughts for now.

  “Thanks. While you’re at the examiner’s, I’ll meet with the GBI Inspector at the crime scene. When we’re both finished in Dahlonega, we’ll head to the Federal Building and search Briggs’s office. The last thing Witt ordered us to do was meet our crime scene techs at Briggs’s downtown condo.”

  “This is going to be a helluva long day,” Barnes said. “You don’t suppose we could swing by a drive thru on the way there do you?”

  Bannister shook his head. He knew his partner had already fast-forwarded through their investigative priorities of the day and those priorities did not include meal breaks.

  “Yeah, I figured as much. I’ll have a couple of breath mints for lunch.”

  The two agents stopped as they arrived at their cars. “How far back do you and Briggs go?” Barnes asked.

  “I’ve known him three years.” Bannister lifted up his left pant leg and pointed out an ugly round bruise in the middle of his calf. “That’s from one of Briggs’s attempted kill shots when we played racquetball last week.”

  “How well did you know him outside of the courthouse?”

  “Just as a racquetball partner. We played hard and really enjoyed the competition. He usually took three out of five games. Good player.” Bannister paused for a few seconds. “I can’t believe he’s dead.” The two were silent for a minute.

  “Two years ago, he prosecuted a racketeering case of mine and convicted the ringleaders of an alien smuggling operation. The government took possession of four Atlanta restaurants they owned,” Bannister remarked.

  “Yeah, I remember that,” Barnes said.

  “Last year he was the lead prosecutor on the Global Waters extortion case,” Bannister said.

  “Do you think there’s a connection?” Barnes replied.

  “That’s something we’ll have to figure out.”

  Before they left the range, Bannister called Inspector Glenn Yates of the GBI to let him know he was coming to the murder scene.

  Fifty minutes later, after driving north on the 400 Parkway with blue lights for seventy miles, Bannister and Barnes pulled their government cars onto an exit which led to the Memorial Marble Company quarry where Briggs’s body had been found. Bannister drove down a gravel road marked with “Private Property, No Trespassing” signs. They stopped their vehicles once they reached the yellow crime scene tape. Barnes stayed in his car as Bannister got out.

  Bannister motioned for Barnes to roll down his window. “I’m assuming the autopsy will be completed before we’re finished at the quarry. Meet me back here when you’re done.”

  Barnes nodded. “I’ll call you with the preliminaries and let you know if the ME finds anything unusual. You can phone the results to Witt.”

  Yates had walked up to their cars and now shook Bannister’s hand. Yates had been with the GBI for twenty-five years and worked his way up to his current position. Although Bannister was eight inches taller, each man weighed two hundred pounds. Yates was built like a bouncer and had an iron grip. He spoke in a syrupy drawl, had a reputation for working long hours without complaining, and drove like a NASCAR racer.

  “What can you tell me, Glenn?” Bannister asked.

  “As you probably know, the victim’s body is now with the Lumpkin County Coroner.”

  “Right. Agent Derek Barnes is leaving now to witness the autopsy.”

  “Well, we haven’t got much. No suspects. No witnesses. Just a dead government attorney and the burned carcass of his new Jaguar. That’s it sitting on the flatbed.” Yates pointed toward two GBI technicians who were strapping down the charred remains of the victim’s car.

  “What was he doing in Dahlonega? In the middle of nowhere?” Bannister asked.

  “That’s what we’ll need to find out. His office said he was the guest speaker at a dinner last night in Atlanta for a conference of insurance fraud investigators. One of the lawyers from Briggs’s office was also there and saw him drive away from the hotel’s parking lot shortly before ten p.m. It’s twelve miles from the conference location to the downtown exit for Marietta Street, all interstate.”

  “You have a team at his condo now?” Bannister asked.

  “Yes, and after my boss talked with your Special Agent in Charge, their orders were to babysit the unit until the feds arrived. My men reported no one was inside the condo and that there were no obvious signs of a struggle. There were no signs of forcible entry, and they observed what appeared to be Briggs’s briefcase on an entryway chair.”

  “If his briefcase was inside his condo, we can assume he made it home before the fateful trip to the quarry,” Bannister said.

  “Looks that way,” Yates said as he typed something into his iPhone. “One way or another, he and his car traveled up the one road leading into this quarry. The road isn’t fenced. At the rear of the quarry are two dirt roads leading out. One goes to a hunting lodge and the other ends up near a back entrance to the Amicalola Falls State Park, exactly seven miles from the start of the Appalachian Trail. Here, look at this Google map showing the gravel road and hiking trails.” Yates showed Bannister a map on his phone’s screen.

  “What’s your opinion?” Bannister asked.

  “I’m just guessing, but someone had a real ax to grind. Whoever it was, and I’m assuming there were at least two people, wanted to destroy the man.”

  “How so?”

  “His car wasn’t stripped, but was burned to a crisp. I think whoever killed Briggs also intended for him to be consumed by the fire. His body was discovered fifty yards from the car, face down, hands tied behind his back with flex cuffs, and throat slashed. He had on the same business clothes he wore to the speaking engagement. He reeked of gasoline, but for some reason they didn’t torch him.”

  “Can you show me where you found his body?” Bannister asked.

  “Sure. Follow me.” The two investigators walked a distance half the length of a football field to a section of the gravel path stained a deep garnet.

  For a minute they both stared at the three-foot section where Briggs bled out.

  “I wonder why they didn’t light him up,” Yates said.

  “That’s something we’ll have to ask the killer,” Bannister replied. He was glad his friend had not been burned. “Who found him?”

  “The foreman of the marble company spotted the body and didn’t touch a thing. Just walked up to where Briggs was lying on the path and after seeing all the blood, figured he was dead. He was the one who called Lumpkin County 9-1-1.”

  “What about possible witnesses in the area?”

  “No luck. The quarry’s manager made all eight of their employees available. We questioned them but no one saw anything unusual yesterday or earlier this morning. An hour ago he cut them all loose for the day.” Yates continued, “I had a couple agents canvass the neighborhood. As you could tell driving up here, it’s pretty damn rural. The nearest home is one mile from the quarry road.”

  Just as the GBI finished searching and processing the crime scene, the crunch of gravel announced t
he arrival of a vehicle. Bannister turned to see Barnes pull up and get out. The two FBI agents and Yates watched the flatbed pull out of the quarry with the hulk of Briggs’s car.

  “What’d you find out at the ME’s office?” Bannister asked.

  “Briggs’s autopsy results confirmed, from stomach contents, that he’d eaten the banquet food from the hotel where he gave his speech. He had a fracture to the back of his skull, apparently from being struck with a blunt object. He died as a result of having his throat cut. The examiner’s opinion, from the direction and depth of the knife slash, is the killer is left-handed.”

  “At least that gives us something to work with. I’ll meet you guys at the US Attorney’s Office,” Yates said before he turned and left.

  Barnes looked at Bannister. “Ty, do you remember the coffee cup you got from that CSI tech with the LA County Coroner’s Office? It had a chalked outline of a body on it, but I forgot what it said.”

  “It said, ‘Our day begins when yours ends.’”

  “Right. Well, our day’s still going so let’s head downtown and see if we can find some leads to the coward who killed your friend,” Barnes said.

  CHAPTER 2

  At 4:00 p.m., Bannister and Barnes arrived at the Russell Federal Building, a twenty-six-story monolith on the edge of downtown Atlanta. As they rode the elevator to the fourth floor, Barnes asked, “How come you smell so good and I still smell like gunpowder?”

  “’Cause I took a Harlem shower before getting in the car.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Washed my face at the range and threw on a heavy splash of aftershave.” Bannister grinned.

  Inspector Glenn Yates had beat them there and was talking with Sherrill Newsome, the US Attorney’s secretary. As Bannister approached, he overheard Newsome say “—just shocking; we’re all stunned.” Newsome was an attractive, thin brunette. With the sling back heels she was wearing, she was the same height as Yates. Her eyes were puffy, and it was obvious she’d been crying. Newsome glanced at the two agents and said, “I have to get back to the reception desk.”

  As soon as she was out of earshot, Bannister asked Yates, “Do you think someone followed him from the dinner or had staked out his condo?”