Vigilante Investigator Series Box Set

by Eden Sharp

'You're a long way from home. What made a Texan come to San Francisco?'

  'Kelly had work here plus my brother Dan went to university here to study law. Then he met his fiancee and stayed so I came up here to check it out after I arrived back in San Diego.'

  'Do you think you'll stay?'

  'Depends on the work situation. I don't know. This place is eating me alive.' He shifted in his seat. 'How about you, where do you live?'

  'In Lower Haight with Jeff.'

  He nodded. 'Nice little house. He invited Kelly and I over for dinner a while back. Maybe you were away.'

  The inside of my jacket pocket vibrated. I pulled out my cell. Lucy.

  'I need to take this,' I said.

  I got up and went over by the bar. One of the guys sitting there lifted his eyes up from his drink and across to me for a second. I stared at him and he looked away again.

  By the brief message and hurried tone I guessed that Lucy was working.

  'I got something for you. A girl called Lisa. I'll text you a number. Give her a call.'

  'Great, thanks,' I said.

  When I walked back over Knox had his arm along the back of the booth. He seemed comfortable.

  'Kelly lives in Richmond but you live in Mission right?'

  'Yeah. I traded one kind of war zone for another.'

  'You could share.'

  'No thanks. Kelly's an animal.'

  'You like it?'

  'It's okay. Some places are safer than others. Belongs to a captain I know so at least I don't have to pay the going rate. Nightmare parking though.'

  I drained my glass.

  'I have to meet someone. If you want to leave your car here and get a cab, the barman will see that it's taken care of.'

  He stared at me long and hard.

  'I'll stay for one more maybe.'

  I nodded at Dwayne and held up one finger which meant add it to my account and get me a cab. He picked up the phone along the back wall and called upstairs to the guys they seemed to have hanging about 24/7 for when the need arose.

  'This is paid for,' I said. 'I'll call you if I need something.'

  I detected a hint of disappointment in his eyes and felt them on me all the way to the top of the stairs then I stepped out into the night and into the waiting car.

  I asked the driver to wait while I dialed the number in the text message Lucy had sent.

  A woman called Lisa gave me an idea of what she knew but the full story wasn't going to come for free. She described herself and mentioned a meeting place. I didn't like her suggestion.

  'I don't like the neighborhood. Make it the all-night diner on Shannon and I'll make it worthwhile,' I said.

  The driver started up the engine and pulled out from the curb without me having to say another word. Great service.

  The club opposite hadn't tipped out so the wait time wouldn't be horrible.

  I couldn't see anyone who fitted the description I'd been given so picked a booth facing the door and tried to get the attention of a server for menus and coffee while I waited. The table was sticky so I kept my hands in my lap and hoped he came with a cloth.

  A girl called Lisa arrived. She looked hyped. Landed heavily on the seat. Her eyes darting around the place. Whether it was coke or natural tension it was hard to say. Some people just seemed to live in a constant state of agitation. I focused on keeping my breathing centered in case I found myself matching her short shallow breaths.

  She snatched at a menu. 'You planning on eating something?'

  I wasn't particularly hungry but knew the only way not to be rushed out of the place was to order, plus it would give Lisa a reason to sit still long enough for me to get the full picture.

  'Maybe eggs. The Denver omelet's good.'

  A couple of drunks were getting demanding a couple of tables away, keeping the server occupied and probably making him pissed.

  'It says on the menu they don't do poached.'

  'How long have you lived here?' I asked.

  'Nine months. I'm from Orlando. It's cold here. And what? You can't get poached eggs in San Francisco?'

  'You can. Just not here. The place is famous because about ten years ago the chef killed someone over an order so they cut them from the menu.'

  Lisa looked up. 'You're kidding?'

  'No really.'

  The server scooted over in a hurry and didn't look friendly.

  I ordered the omelet hoping that Lisa was ready. She went for the country-fried steak. I added an orange juice and coffee to the order.

  'You're paying right? I mean twelve bucks for an omelet, jeez,' Lisa said after the guy had gone.

  I nodded. 'So you've seen the girl I'm looking for?'

  'Yeah it was definitely her. She was even using her own name.'

  'Pulling tricks?'

  'No. A friend of mine, Hayley, met her through a dealer. She needed money, a place to crash. She went on one date but it wasn't what she was expecting. She wasn't ready, even for cam work, so Hayley introduced her to a client who's skimming. He was looking for cashers. She jumped at it and bailed. Went off with him and didn't come back.'

  'You have a name?'

  Lisa laughed. 'Yeah right, good luck with that. You'll have to ask Hayley if she knows but she's out of town with a punter in Atlantic City. You can ask her when she gets back. But I thought you'd like to know now. It's still worth something to you right?'

  'Tell me again,' I said. 'In detail. Everything you can remember. All of it. And slow down.'

  I listened to everything again and supplemented her story by asking questions then called it. I'd had around three hours sleep in the last twenty-four and I needed to regroup.

  ELEVEN

  Inspector Dean Ortiz

  Ortiz looked at his watch for the third time. Twenty after nine on a Monday morning. The clock on the back wall directly opposite provided the time but the show conveyed to the assembled men that the delay was not down to him. That he was just as pissed to be kept waiting as they were.

  The new guy Barstow, a GI Joe template with bright eyes and polished shoes, maintained an earnest expression. Transferred in without his okay, Phoenix PD were probably out celebrating.

  Jordan, pug-faced and pony-tailed, shifted in place constantly growing his irritation, no doubt itching to get the day over with and back to the jacked-up truck on his driveway.

  Leaning on the wall under the clock, Connor chewed gum. Same old shit different day. His soon-to-retire partner, Dawson, looked like he was so chilled he was dead by comparison.

  Ortiz was pissed because Kraner had insisted on attending the team briefing on the forthcoming operation and he hated being micro-managed. His partner Aaron shot him a look when the captain arrived.

  Kraner was wary. You told me you could get to Secora before. Don't screw up. Nothing was to stand in the way of his promotion and Ortiz knew he had given the go ahead for the op gambling on the glory of gaining a result. He also knew Kraner would be heading across town later for a lunchtime function with brass and be keen to feed them overblown promises about when the case would be wrapped and how many big bads his men would take down.

  It was unusually hot and the combined odor of half a dozen men was already lending the briefing room the ambiance of a men's locker-room so Ortiz was doubly keen to get it wrapped up.

  'Right let's get to it. The intelligence we got from the tap was gold. Secora's cousin has dug himself a swimming pool-sized hole.'

  Ortiz looked across at Kraner to emphasize his point. He had worked hard with an informant to get what they needed to go ahead with the wiretap. His captain had taken a lot of persuading to grant them the necessary authorization.

  'Being the family blight he's going to flip easy. So now we go higher up the chain and take out Secora himself or an associate, leaving the cousin in as a feed.'

  He hit a button on the laptop in front of him and a map of the city appeared on a screen on the wall behind him. Different areas were sectioned by a color-coded schem
e.

  'Peter Secora's high quality coke and Columbian ties are causing all kinds of friction with the Mexicans. Turf wars are escalating. Our next step is we take down whoever he's wholesaling to. The new update from Reeves is the initial drop will go down sometime before noon tomorrow, location unknown.'

  Ortiz clicked again and a candid shot of a middle-aged man in a tailored suit stepping out of a BMW appeared on the screen. He looked like a guy enjoying the benefits of a professional life. The CEO of a financial services firm or similar.

  'Secora's drafted in an established partner to move the latest consignment. This is Eric Lewan. He's staying at the InterContinental on Howard. We'll be in place from 06.00 and tail him to the drop site. We should be looking at ten kilos of near pure cocaine for three hundred thousand. Cut we're looking at three million street. Pick up to be advised.'

  With his undercover Reeves on the inside and the cousin supplying additional intelligence, Ortiz was betting that Kraner, more corporate than cop, would be circulating his mantra about how the unit was going to clean up the entire city at his lunch meet, happily shoving his snout up as many butts as possible.

  TWELVE

  Angela McGlynn

  When I called Knox, he sounded half asleep. I asked him if it was okay to drop by.

  'Sure.'

  'You up?'

  'Yeah. I just didn't sleep too good. If you're quick, there are a few places to park outside. How long you planning on being?'

  'About fifteen minutes. You're on Shotwell right?'

  ‘3345, near Twentieth, just east of Van Ness. Apartment nine.'

  I took it all in as I walked through the door. A large ocher-colored living area with dark hardwood floors, split by two angled leather couches, a recliner facing a giant screen TV, a dining area behind, with a kitchen off to the side.

  'Nice place.'

  'I like it.'

  I ignored the couches and pulled out a seat at the kitchen counter.

  'I got a lead from a girl who works out of her apartment. Webcam stuff. Amber had been staying with a friend of hers, same line of work, but she wasn't interested in pulling tricks. This other girl introduced her to a client. A carder. She got herself a job as a casher.'

  Knox shook his head.

  'There's a big trade in stolen card data. There's a scam at the moment where people call hotels and ask for a room by number or use a common name. If they get put through they pretend to be the manager. Make out there's a problem with the card information at the front desk. Ask the guest to repeat the number and address. Or sometimes they put strip readers on ATMs or gas pumps. It all ends up for sale online. Carders buy it and then print it onto blanks and make up their own cards. Then they send girls out to buy high-end stuff which they can sell on for cash. We need to talk to this guy.'

  'He's not gonna wanna do that.'

  'No. And for a start, I don't know his address or even his name. Men who use prostitutes never use their real name. They normally say it's John, hence the term.'

  Knox slashed his mouth into a mock smile. 'Great.'

  'But he's distinctive looking. Tall, skinny with a bleached blond mohawk. First we need to find out who he is and where he's at.'

  'Sounds easy. And we do that how?'

  There were only two things you needed to be somebody else, the right information and self-confidence.

  'There's a place called PC Plaza. That's where he'll be buying his supplies. We go see the owner. Your regulation hair cut says G-man. It's illegal to pass yourself off as a member of law enforcement, but if someone else thinks you're a cop or an agent or whatever, there's nothing you can do about that. If it walks like a cop and it talks like a cop, you get it? Plus cops always travel in twos.'

  'And what do we do when we get there?'

  'Preload the guy with the idea, let him fill in the blanks. I tell you not to think about an elephant, what do you think about? We give him non-verbal clues he'll paint the picture for himself.'

  'What kind of clues?'

  'When cops go undercover they learn to disguise the little things that will give them away. We're going to reverse the process. Some of it you're doing already. You're right-handed, so you carry left. Therefore you keep that arm away from your side a little. You've also been trained to be hyperaware of your surroundings. If you maintain aggressive eye contact and hold a defensive stance while asking lots of questions, people will think cop. If someone asks you outright, you deny it. If they have something to hide, they'll still think you're a cop, just one who's doing a really bad job at playing undercover.'

  'What about the chick she was staying with?'

  'That'll have to wait. She's gone on an outcall trip with a client and apparently Amber's no longer there anyway.'

  Outside Knox stood back to admire the view. The beautifully sloping curve of the roof, the bulge of the hood, nineteen-inch alloys, front chin aero deflector and rear spoiler, a wide expanse of shimmering silver from wing to wing. Inside, I turned the key and luminescent gauges lit the dash. I couldn't contain a smile as over three thousand pounds of metal pulled away from the curb like an aluminum can kicked clear of the gutter.

  South of Twin Peaks, I pulled into a spot on Portola Drive across from a computer store.

  'I'll do the talking, you play the badass.'

  Knox unbuckled himself from the seat and got out. The grin on his face reached all the way to the perimeter.

  A bell announced us. Inside, a register and little else. Nothing on show. Strictly a stock out back and under the counter kind of place. A few posters of PCs to give you the idea. A blotchy man in his fifties, short on top but long at the back, appeared, waited.

  Knox took a stance, feet apart, planted. He folded his arms, waited.

  'I'm looking for a guy. A customer of yours. Platinum mohawk. Hard to miss,' I said.

  'I get a lot of people in and out of here, what makes you think I'd know him?'

  'Because I know about your other business and these guys are so paranoid about drop ships, they prefer to pick up their supplies in person.'

  The guy flicked his eyes across to Knox then back to me again.

  'What exactly is it that you think you know?'

  'I know a lot of skimmed cards are doing the rounds.'

  'The card printers I sell are legal, for making corporate ID badges,' he said.

  I looked across at Knox and smiled. He kept his eyes on the proprietor, stone-faced.

  'And the counterfeit holograms from China that you sell by the sheet?' I asked.

  The man's chest briefly expanded and then caved back in on itself.

  I sensed victory so decided to run with it. I turned and faced Knox.

  'Did I tell you about the other stuff they carry out back? You want to take a look?'

  The man sighed. 'He's been in. I don't know his real name and I don't have no contact details. Calls himself Grifthawk on the Blacklist. That's all I know.'

  Back in the car Knox looked hyped. 'Now what?'

  'I need to make a few calls, ask around for a few favors.'

  'You wanna grab some lunch?'

  'I'm not hungry. I'll drop you home and call you later.' The sooner I got to work the better.

  The Nismo pulsed away from the curb.

  I gave the keys to the valet. He was a happy man. Normally I drove it in myself. I liked to pick up a little speed and drift around the corners. The valets probably watched me on the cameras. The duty guy was probably tempted to have a go himself.

  I took the elevator to the top and relaxed when the door closed behind me. In the bedroom I stripped off down to my underwear. At this height there was no danger of being overlooked. I pressed my forehead against the glass and looked out across the bay. To most of the city's dwellers the Randall building was a landmark sitting at the foot of the Bay Bridge.

  In the adjoining room I grabbed a small gray T-shirt, first from the pile in the closet, and threw it on then headed back out to the hallway and kitchen.

&n
bsp; I needed to eat so opened up the refrigerator and took out a bottle of water and a carton of tuna salad. I grabbed a fork then carried everything back to the bedroom and placed it all on the nightstand. I got my laptop from inside the TV cabinet, set it down on the bed and opened it up.

  I wrote a couple of emails while eating then spent the next couple of hours carrying out searches and making notes. Finally I made a few calls. With everything in hand I took out a tablet that acted as a remote control from the nightstand drawer and pressed a button. The windows tinted all the way down to just past dusk. I switched the lamp on the nightstand to low, set an alarm on my cell for six hours ahead and settled down to sleep.

  THIRTEEN

  The dog posed a problem. My surveillance had revealed Rawlings hit the park once in the morning and once again at night. Daylight could have worked but darkness suited my purposes better.

  I had already scoped there was good parking on the surrounding residential streets in Noe Valley so had left the car there then gone back to settle into the shadows and wait.

  I soon realized it would have been better to have brought along a dog of my own. If Rawlings was watching and spotted me under that scenario, it would have triggered a fixed-pattern response in his brain. He would have accepted the short cut of “dog walker” and discounted my presence without further consideration. As it was, with no purposeful direction of movement and my stillness, I was basically just hiding in the open and had I have been the target, I would have spotted the threat immediately.

  When he came out I fell into step a short way behind making sure of a natural distance. At five-feet-nine in an oversized navy blue hooded sweat top and pants I knew I was genderless and would be hard to describe even if I wasn't completely invisible.

  The park was on a quiet dead-end street not easily noticed by passing traffic. The entrance was the only unfenced part so I held back while Rawlings let the dog off its leash in the holding pen area between the entry gate and access into the main part, which looked like an old baseball field. It formed a central bowl at the bottom of a hill bordered by a tree-lined path which led up and around the back.