The Devil's Syndicate

by Chris Draper

  It was for Helen. Wagner had said that he could possibly help her and even if there was the slightest chance of getting her back to normal then he had to do it. There was no question. Even if it meant missing a court hearing on the Risotto case. He wasn't needed at the trial anyway unless they had to ask him more questions and he'd already answered everything before on numerous occasions.

  Something about Wagner bugged him a little though, although he couldn't quite pinpoint what it was. Maybe it was how he seemed to know so much about his life. But then again Hawk's life was no secret affair and a lot of it could be found online if you looked hard enough. While talking to Wagner he'd also realized where he'd seen him before. It had been at the annual police gala held every year to honour the top members of the San Francisco Police Department. Wagner had been there as a guest speaker and made a speech about an upcoming health device that would save lives by extracting a bullet wedged in the body and reduce internal bleeding until the victim made it to hospital. The device had been tested and was slated to be released sometime in the near future. Wagner had said in a glowering speech that it would save the lives of many cops in the field.

  Hawk went back into the cabin of his boat and sat down behind his laptop, booted it up. He remembered about his fish still sitting outside in the sun and quickly went out to wrap them up, then placed them in the freezer in seal wraps until he had a chance to clean and skin them properly. A few flies had already started buzzing around the pails and he swatted at them with his hands. He then sat back down and started transferring the files over from the flashdrive Wagner had provided him. While he waited for the transfer to finish he opened up the printed copies and started going through the notes while taking a few bites of a salmon sandwich he had leftover from lunchtime.

  He looked at some photos of Dottie Wagner. One showed her in a violet dress with black stilettos, her hair up in a fancy bun. She was alone in the photo and it looked to be at a fancy ball or wedding. Pretty girl, Hawk thought. He flipped through a few more pages and stopped on her biographical information. Mother died when she was just a baby. Complications from childbirth. He read over Dottie's impressive school report. She held the highest marks in her class and had graduated on top of the honour roll and had also been a ballet dancer. Now 18, her father had expected her to go into law school at one of the ivy leagues.

  Dottie seemed like a bright girl. Why would she want to run away with such a bright future ahead of her? He spent another 30 minutes going through the report then closed the folder and took out his cellphone. He dialed Greg Mitchell's number, an old friend from his days as a vice cop. Greg had been his partner for 8-months before being transferred to the homicide division and had helped Hawk get information on tracking down Tony Risotto. Since Hawk had gone into business on his own he needed Greg's helped gathering information that he wasn't able to retrieve himself and Greg never asked him for anything in return, knowing well that he could get in trouble for providing Hawk with such information.

  A husky voice answered, Greg's: “Hello?”

  “Greg, it's Simon here. How goes the beat?”

  “Hey buddy! Nice to her from ya. Beat's been so-so lately. Remember those hobo murders we kept having a few months back? Looks like they may have started up again.”

  “Shit.” Hawk said. “Any suspects?”

  “Yeah we got one. This teenager who hangs out near the 8-Pin bowling alley on Mission street. He's a tweeker so we think he's been getting jacked then doing the killing.”

  “Damn. Well hopefully you get the bastard.” Simon paused to take another bite of his sandwich. “I've taken on a new case, it's to find someone's missing daughter.”

  “No shit? How did that come about?”

  “He stopped by my boat, said he'd heard of my story with Risotto, said he wanted me to work on the case and that he might be able to do something for Helen. He's involved in the healthcare business and mentioned he might have a doctor that could do something for her.”

  “That's great news! When do you start? I was getting a bit worried about you sitting on that boat all day, you need some action man.”

  Hawk chuckled. “Yeah I've started to put on a beer belly, it's about time to work it off I guess. I don't officially begin until I sign the contract which I plan on doing later tonight. Actually Greg, part of the reason why I called you was because I needed to ask you a small favour.”

  He could feel Greg start to smile on the other end of the line. “Let me guess, you want me to look into the girl to see what I can dig up on my end right?”

  “You nailed it right on the nose. I need anything you can find on her. Credit reports, arrest history if she has one, employment history, etc. Also see if you can get her phone provider to give you some information as well.”

  Greg whistled. “You know you're more demanding than my wife?”

  “I'll make it up to you pal. Cop's honour.”

  “I'm just stepping back into my office now.” Hawk heard him sit behind his desk. “What's her full name?”

  “Dottie Bethany Wagner, born July 17th 2000. Social Security is 545-76-8372 and birth city is San Francisco.”

  Greg said, “Okay give me a bit of time to see if I can dig anything up. I'll call you back. By the way, you owe me big for this.”

  “I'll buy you a beer next time I see you.”

  “Better make that a bourbon.” Greg said and hung up.

  10 minutes later he called back and Simon picked up the phone on the first ring. “Anything?”

  “Not much but there's a bit. Okay to email you a PDF?”

  “Yeah send it over and thanks again Greg.”

  “It's all good. I'll stop in on the weekend for that drink. Ciao buddy.”

  ≈

  Hawk finished going through the folders on Dottie while he anxiously waited for Greg's e-mail. When he saw it appear in his inbox he opened up the PDF and scanned the contents. He started with her personal information first. Most of what was there he'd already seen in the folder from Wagner and there was no date of death recorded which was promising. Then he went through her employment records and couldn't believe his eyes. Dottie's entire work record was a clean slate. Unless she'd had an under the table job she'd never worked a day in her life. Hawk clicked over to the next page which said in the middle of another empty space: Arrest history - No Prior Convictions.

  Not surprised Hawk clicked to Dottie's phone provider record. The last calls were made from a Bay Area 415 area code over 3 months ago that had stopped abruptly. He tried calling her phone number and heard a monotone computer voice on the other line say it was out of service. Undeterred he then called the first number on the list of outbound calls and it rang to a Mastercard customer service line. Hawk hung up and tried the next one. It was for the Greyhound bus terminal on Market street. The number after that was a 305 area code number which he had to look up. He did a search and found out it was a Miami phone number. Hawk called it and after four rings got an answering machine. An old woman with a heavy lisp said he had reached Marjorie Weathers and to leave a message. He hung up, decided to try again later until he reached somebody. He looked over the rest of the phone list. Not much there besides a few of the same numbers already dialed and a couple other 415 numbers he would have to ask Wagner about tomorrow. Hawk then spent the next 10 minutes going through Greg's report until he finished up with Dottie's credit information. He saw something there that made his eyebrows go up. There had been recent activity on her credit card account. Her score was average and it looked like she had gotten the card a week before disappearing. Hawk took a closer look at the credit card statement. $243.43 spent at the Greyhound station; $10 spent at a MacDonald's in San Jose; a small withdrawal of $60 made at an Esso gas station somewhere in Arizona; $6 spent at Ronnie's Hamburgers in Albuquerque. The last transaction had been made only 3 days prior at a place called the Shark Club listed in Miami. Hawk thought Dottie had either ran away and was travelling across the Western states or had been kid
napped and was now possibly in Miami. He sat back on the wooden kitchen chair, stretched out his arms and folded his fingers, then hunched over again and did an online search for the Shark Club in Miami. He couldn't find a site for the place but a location appeared on the maps near the Miami waterfront that included only one user review (“The beer here tastes like piss mixed with antifreeze. Visit at your own risk!”) He looked a bit further but wasn't able to find any contact information for the place. He took out a small notepad on his desk and jotted down the club's name and circled it then shut his laptop and checked the time. It was 9:25 P.M.

  He wondered if Wagner could still be out at the charity event he had mentioned. He bit his lip and hesitated for a moment then decided to call. Wagner answered on the third ring and Hawk could hear he was in public with loud chatter and the clinks of glasses in the background over the shouts of servers asking for orders.

  “Simon Hawk. Just the person I wanted to hear from. How are things going? Do you have news already?”

  Hawk could hear the tone of an expectant father in Wagner's voice. It was similar to the way he himself had sounded the day after the accident when he called the hospital to check on Helen's condition. For a second he felt his stomach tighten, then he took a deep breath and it subsided.

  “Is now a good time to talk?”

  “Yes please go ahead. I'll find a place more quiet.” He heard the rancorous clatter in the background grow distant then Wagner returned to the line. “Okay go ahead please.”

  “I was going through some files and did a bit of research on your daughter and there's a couple things I wanted to run by you. I ran up a credit report on Dottie's social security and it says the last place she visited was a place called the Shark Club in Miami. Does that mean anything to you?”

  Wagner was silent for a second.

  “Mr. Wagner?”

  “Sorry,” He cleared his throat. “No I don't believe I recognize any place by that name. And did you say Dottie has a credit card?”

  “Yes a Mastercard links up with the address information you gave me for Dottie. Is there a problem?”

  “Well it's news to me. I wasn't aware Dottie owned a credit card. I said she could only get one when she turned 19 and that was only if I thought it was the right time for it. I also told her if she did get a credit card that I would require access to her statements and would keep it in my possession at all times unless I gave her permission to use it. Did you see other charges made on this credit card?”

  “Yeah, it looks like the card has a limit of $1000 and she used it to purchase food and possibly a bus ticket. I tracked the credit card payments a well as her phone calls and it looks like the last trace of her is in Miami.”

  Hawk could hear the expectant tone in Wagner's voice grow into concern. “Miami? I can't believe that Dottie would be in Miami unless she was kidnapped. What else did you find?”

  Simon told him the last of the phone numbers he'd uncovered and asked Wagner if he recognized any of them. He also told him that he called the 305 number but wasn't able to reach anyone yet.

  “Well yes,” Wagner said. “Most of those numbers are to her cousin who lives near Frisco and some of them are for her piano teacher. I recognize a few of the others too except for the 305. One of the requirements of her having her own phone was that she grant me access to it from time to time, just to make sure she was staying out of trouble and getting her homework done. She must have made the 305 call shortly before disappearing though or I would have noticed it.”

  “Okay. Did Dottie have any friends in Miami? Anyone she might have went to stay with?”

  “Not that I'm aware of.”

  “Okay that's all I wanted to ask for now. When is a good time to stop in tomorrow so I can have a look through her bedroom?”

  “Please call me before you come and I will make sure to be here,” Wagner said. “Oh and Simon...”

  “Yes?”

  “After finding out what you have tonight, do you think my daughter is safe?”

  “I can't answer that yet Mr. Wagner. I wish I could but all I can tell you is that we've made some progress.”

  “I see. Okay thanks for calling again, I'll see you tomorrow.”

  Wagner hung up and Hawk laid down on the pull out couch with Sprinkles curled up on his lap. He closed his eyes and tried sleeping but felt restless again – this often happened to him and he couldn't remember the last time he'd had a good night's sleep. Back when he was living with Helen she'd often poke fun at him, saying he slept more than their newborn did. These days though he'd usually have to lay there for hours until sleep would come. He'd tried using medications to help but it always made him feel groggy the next day so he'd decided to stop using them.

  Hawk found nights the most difficult of all though. A time when the mind is free to roam at will and there was no telling what kind of memories it might conjure up. During the day there was always something to keep him busy but at night the memories of days gone by paraded through his brain like a pack of wolves.

  Tonight he was remembering something he hadn't thought about for a long time. Early on when he'd first started living with Helen she would always say “I've got this one babe,” which was usually in reference to some small thing like paying for dinner, or calling a taxi, or even a regular task like doing dishes after a night in. It sort of became their thing for awhile and one year for her birthday Hawk had visited a t-shirt printing kiosk in Union Square and had the phrase emblazoned on a white t-shirt with a photo of him beneath making a silly face. Helen had keeled over with laughter at being presented with such an awkward gift and Hawk laughed to himself now as the memory flooded back. Sometimes he would lay there thinking these types of thoughts for hours and half the night would go by. Then the next thing he'd know there would be the soft light of dawn creeping through the windows and it would almost be time to get up.

  Gradually though his thoughts moved back towards the case he'd just accepted and the uncertainty he felt earlier about being able to pull it off slowly came back to him. Was it true that Wagner might be able to bring Helen back from her eternal slumber? Hawk wasn't sure but he was sure as hell going to do everything in his power to locate Dottie Wagner to find out.

  And as he finally began to drift off he had Helen on his mind again and somewhere in his conscious he made a promise to her that he would do whatever it took to bring her back, and the last thing he whispered before the world of sleep overtook him was, “I've got this one babe.”

  2

  Hawk's eyes flipped open. Small slivers of light crept through the small window above his kitchen sink. Morning. He sat up and saw his reflection in a small mirror on the wall across his bed. His light brown hair was sticking up in tangles and the stubble on his chin had seemed to double overnight. Hawk was lean but had an athletic body from his days as a wrestler in college and ran almost every morning along the pier.

  He stretched his arms then rose and opened up the door to the outside deck and stepped out by the handrail. The morning was cool and quiet and the purple hues of daybreak floated in the waters surrounding the boat. 200-feet out he could see Larry, a former teacher turned skipper working a lure on his fishing line in the water testing the lines buoyancy. Larry waved and Hawk waved back with a smile. Sprinkles jumped off the bed inside and came out meowing and rubbing against his leg. He poured her food in a bowl then went back inside and took a hot shower then had a coffee.

  When he was done he checked on his fish in the freezer and marked the date in red permanent marker on each of the Ziploc bags. He would have to drop some of them off at the fish market on his way back from Telegraph Hill where Harvey Wagner lived. First though he had to drop off Sprinkles at a cat sitter he found online who would look after her while he was busy working on the Wagner case.

  He then had to stop and see Helen in the ICU unit of the Oxley Convalescent Home in Oakland. He went to see her once a week and called regularly to check on her progress. When that was finished he
would drive back home and stop in at Wagner's place on the way back. Hawk threw on a pair of tan cargo pants with a white dress shirt and brown sandals, then grabbed his computer and a pair of black wayfarers that he stuck on his head. He took Sprinkles in his other arm in a small carrier with the bag of fish balanced on top and strode along the docks towards his truck parked a few steps down in the parking lot.

  He dropped Sprinkles off at a stucco residential bungalow near Nob Hill where a woman named Ruth ran an in-home cat sitting business. He knocked and a plump middle-aged woman with pancake makeup and a thick South Beach accent opened the door. He could hear Price is Right playing faintly in the back of the house and a swarm of calico cats surrounded his feet as he answered her questions: Yes Sprinkles was neutered. Yes she got along well with other cats. No you cannot walk her. Hawk paid her, told her that he would call when he got back, then took the I-80 West to Oakland where he pulled into the parking lot of the Oxley Convalescent Home on Bleecker Street.

  The large glass block and pink granite building that towered over him was a special care facility dealing with unique medical cases. Hawk had learned about it from his half-sister who had an aunt stay there before for trauma from a car accident. She'd said the services were top notch so Hawk had went in, spoken with an intake worker, and had been satisfied that the convalescent home was the best option for Helen at the moment.

  He'd initially thought of hiring a stay at home nurse to look after her but quickly realized that the machines they had at Oxley offered a lot more than he could do with a home setup. He stepped inside the swivelling front doors and made his way up to the 7th floor, the Intensive Care Unit, then gave his name at the front and sat down and waited in reception. He came here as often as he could to see Helen. Every time he came he wished that somehow she would detect his presence in the room and magically wake up from her coma; sort of like in the movies, he would kiss her lips and she would open her eyes and everything would be the way it had been before.