by Robert Crais
When the phone rang Talley again thought it was the Nokia, but it was his private line.
Larry Anders said, “Chief? Can you talk?”
Anders’s voice was low, as if he were trying to keep his words private. Talley lowered his own voice even though no one was near.
“Go, Larry.”
“I’m with Cooper here in the city planner’s office. Man, that guy was pissed. He didn’t want to get up.”
Talley took out his notepad.
“First tell me about the cell number. You run that yet?”
“I had to get a telephone for that. It’s unlisted, so the cell company didn’t want to release.”
“Telephone” meant that Anders had to get a telephonic search warrant.
“Okay.”
“The number is registered to Rohiprani Bakmanifelsu and Associates. It’s a jewelry company in Beverly Hills. You want me to try to contact them?”
“Forget it. It’s a dead end.”
Talley knew without hearing more that the cell number had been cloned and stolen. Since Bakmanifelsu hadn’t yet deactivated it, he hadn’t yet discovered the pirated activity on his account; the number had probably been cloned within his past billing period.
“What about the Mustang?”
“There’s nothing, Chief. I ran wants for the past two model years. We got sixteen hits for cars that were still unrecovered, but nothing green came up.”
“Were any of them stolen today?”
“No, sir. Not even in the past month.”
Talley let it go.
“Okay. What about the building permits?”
“We can’t find any of that, but we might not need’m. The planner knew the developer who opened York Estates, a man named Clive Briggs. It used to be nothing but avocado orchards out there.”
“Okay.”
“I just got off the phone with him. He says that the contractor who built the Smiths’ house is probably at Terminal Island.”
Terminal Island was the federal prison in San Pedro.
“What do you mean, probably?”
“Briggs didn’t know for sure, but he remembered the contractor. The guy’s name was Lloyd Cunz. Briggs remembers because he liked the guy’s work so much that he tried to hire him for another development he had goin’, but Cunz turned him down. He was based in Palm Springs, he said, and they didn’t want to take any more long-range jobs.”
“The contractor came all the way from Palm Springs?”
“Not just the contractor. He brought his crew: the carpenters, the cement people, plumbers, electricians, everybody. He didn’t hire anyone locally. He said it was to keep up the quality of the work. Three or four years later, Briggs tried to hire Cunz again and learned that he’d been indicted on racketeering and hijacking charges. He was out of business.”
Talley knew that a builder wouldn’t bring an entire construction crew that far unless he was building something he didn’t want the locals to know about. Talley already had a sense of where this was going. Organized crime.
“Did you run Cunz through the computer yet?”
“Well, I’m still here at the planner.”
“When you get back to the office, run him and see what you get.”
“You’re thinking these guys are in organized crime, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, Larry. That’s what I’m thinking. Let me know what you find.”
“I won’t tell anyone.”
“No. Don’t.”
Talley closed his phone and stared at the cul-de-sac. Walter Smith was almost certainly a member of organized crime. The Watchman was probably his partner, and the disks probably contained evidence that could put them away. The pressure he felt was like an inflating balloon in his head and chest. Talley knew that he was losing control of the scene, and of the events that would soon happen. When the Watchman’s phony FBI agents arrived, he would have even less control, and that would put the people in the house in even greater jeopardy. The Watchman didn’t care who died; he just wanted the disks.
Talley wanted the disks, too. He wanted to know what was on them. These people would never have taken Talley’s family if the disks in Smith’s house didn’t pose a terrible threat to them. They feared those disks being discovered more than they feared the investigation that would come from having kidnapped Talley’s family. They figured they could survive the investigation, but they knew the disks would make them fall. That meant the disks named names.
Talley believed that he and his family would not survive the night. The men in the car, they could not afford to trust that the police couldn’t build a case against them for what was happening here. They would not take that chance. Talley was absolutely certain that as soon as the Watchman had the disks, he would murder all three of them. Talley wanted the disks first. He thought he knew how to get them.
Talley trotted into the cul-de-sac to join Maddox and Ellison at their car.
“He answer your calls yet?”
Ellison sipped black coffee from a Styrofoam cup.
“Negative. Phone company says he’s still got it unplugged.”
“You guys have a P.A. in this car?”
“No. What’re you thinking?”
Talley duck-walked to the lone Bristo car that remained in the street. He grabbed the mike, then flipped on the public address system. Maddox had followed him over, curious.
“What are you doing?”
“Sending a message.”
Talley keyed the mike.
“This is Talley. I need you to call me.”
His voice echoed over the neighborhood. The officers around the perimeter glanced at him.
“If it’s safe, call me.”
Talley didn’t expect Rooney to call. He wasn’t talking to Rooney.
Rooney’s voice answered from the house.
“Fuck you!”
Ellison laughed.
“It was a good try.”
Maddox said, “What was that about being safe?”
Talley didn’t answer. He tossed the microphone into the car, then crept to the far side of the cul-de-sac, where he sat on the curb behind the patrol cars. He wanted the boy. He hoped that Thomas would understand that Talley had been asking him to call.
His phone rang almost at once.
“Talley.”
It was Sarah, sounding excited.
“Chief, it’s the little boy again.”
Talley’s heart raced. If Smith couldn’t tell him who had his family, maybe the disks could.
“Thomas? You okay, son?”
The boy sounded calm.
“I wasn’t sure you were talking to me. Is my daddy okay?”
This time Thomas sounded even more hushed than before, his voice a whisper. Talley turned up the volume on his phone, but still could barely hear him.
“He’s in the hospital over in Canyon Country. What about you and your sister? Are you all right?”
“Yeah. She’s not in her room anymore. They took her downstairs. I thought they were doing something bad to her, but they didn’t know how to use the microwave.”
“Are you in any danger right now?”
“Uh-uh.”
Talley stared out of the cul-de-sac. The Sheriff’s tactical units were in their positions behind the radio cars. Hicks and Martin would be in the command van, waiting for something to happen. Talley remembered his first day with SWAT, how a sergeant-supervisor told him that SWAT stood for Sit, Wait, and Talk. Talley’s eyes welled as he fought to control his fear. He put his thoughts on the children in the house. If Talley thought either Thomas or Jennifer was in immediate mortal danger, he would launch the breach. He would launch without hesitation. He believed that they were not.
“How’s your battery on that cell phone?”
“Ah, it’s showing half a charge, maybe a little less. I turn it off when I’m not using it.”
“Good. Can you plug it into a charger when you’re not using it?”
“Uh-uh. All the charger
s are downstairs. My mom does that ’cause everyone else forgets.”
Talley worried that if the boy’s battery failed, they would lose communication, but all he could do was press ahead and move fast.
“Okay, Thomas, turn it off when we’re not talking and conserve as much power as possible, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Your dad has business partners. Do you know who they are?”
“Uh-uh.”
“He ever mention names?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Was he working in his office today?”
“Uh-huh. He was trying to finish something because a client was coming to pick it up.”
Talley had trouble taking it to the next level, but he knew that this boy was his wife’s and daughter’s only chance.
“Thomas, I need your help with something. It might be easy or it might be dangerous. If you think those guys in there could find out and hurt you, then I don’t want you to do it, okay?”
“Sure!”
The boy was excited. He was a boy. He didn’t understand risk.
“Your dad has a couple of computer disks. I’m not sure, but they’re probably on his desk or in his briefcase. He was probably working with them today. They’re called Zip disks. You know what that is?”
Thomas made a derisive snort.
“I’ve had a Zip drive for years, Chief. Jeez. Zip disks are big and thick. They hold more information than regular disks.”
“These disks are labeled Disk One and Disk Two. When you’re downstairs in the office again, could you get to your dad’s desk? Could you find those disks and try to see whose files they are?”
“No, they wouldn’t let me go to the desk. Dennis makes me sit on the floor.”
The slim hope that Talley had felt only moments before withered. Then Thomas went on.
“But I might be able to sneak into the office if they’re not around. Then I could just swipe the disks and open them on my computer up here in my room.”
“I thought they locked you in your room.”
“They do, but I can get out.”
“You can?”
Talley listened as Thomas described being able to move through the crawl space in the eaves and attic, and how he was able to emerge in different parts of the house through access hatches.
“Thomas, could you get to his office that way, through the crawl space?”
“Not into his office, but I can get into the den. There’s a service door in the wine cellar behind the bar. It’s right across from my dad’s office. My mom says she can always tell when he sneaks across one time too many.”
Talley’s hope surfaced again, but it was dampened by the knowledge that he could not allow this child to risk his life.
“That sounds too dangerous.”
“It won’t be if they don’t see me. Mars spends most of his time in the office, but Kevin is back by the French doors. Dennis walks around a lot. He stays in the safety room sometimes, the one where all the monitors are. But once I’m in the den, all I have to do is sneak across the entry and go to my dad’s desk. That wouldn’t take any time at all.”
Talley thought it through, trying not to let the need he felt cloud his judgment. He would have to get all three subjects away from that area of the house. He would have to blind the cameras in case one or all of the subjects were in the safety room with the monitors.
“If I could get Rooney and the others away from the office, do you think you could get the disks without being caught?”
“No problemo.”
“Could you do it in the dark?”
“I do stuff like that almost every night.”
Thomas laughed when he said it. Talley didn’t laugh. He was supposed to help this child; now he wanted this child to help him. He felt as much a hostage as Thomas or Jane, and hoped that he could forgive himself for what he was about to do.
“All right, son. Let’s figure this out.”
The night air was so clear that the houses and cars and cops in the street all seemed etched in glass. House lights, street lamps, and the red flares of cigarettes were hard sharp points of glare; overhead, the helicopters floated against the star field like nighthawks balanced on the sky, waiting for something to die. Talley checked his watch and knew the Watchman would call again soon. Thomas was still up in his room and the sister was still cooking, but that could change at any moment. Talley didn’t have much time.
Talley found Jorgenson and brought him to the Department of Water and Power truck. The DWP technician, a young guy with a shaved head and a braided chin beard, was stretched across the bench seat of his truck, sleeping. Talley shook his foot.
“Can you cut the power to the house?”
The service tech rubbed at his face, blotchy with sleep.
“I could do that, yeah. Good to go.”
“Not now. You turn it off, that means all the power in the house goes off, not just in part of the house?”
Talley couldn’t afford a mistake, and neither could Thomas.
The tech slid out of his truck. The manhole was open. A short aluminum fence circled it as a warning.
“Not just the one house, the entire cul-de-sac. I control the branch line from here. I cut the juice, it’s all going dead. If I set up there in the cul-de-sac I could cut it just to a single house, but they told me out here.”
“Out here is fine. How long does that take, to cut the power?”
“On-off, like flipping a switch.”
“The phones won’t be affected?”
“I got nothin’ to do with that.”
Talley left Jorgenson with the technician, then radioed Martin to have Hicks and Maddox meet him at the command van. Martin answered stiffly.
“Listen, I appreciate that you talked Rooney into releasing Mr. Smith, but then you walked away without a word. You want command, you have to stay available. We might have needed to clear an action, but you weren’t here.”
Talley felt defensive, but also resentful that she was calling him on this and wasting time.
“I didn’t walk away. I was with Maddox and Ellison, and then I made some calls.”
He didn’t tell her that he had spoken with Thomas.
“You have command of this action, but please don’t try any more stunts without including me in the loop. If you want my cooperation, then you have to keep me informed.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I heard you on the public address, ordering Rooney to call you. That’s why we have negotiators.”
“Maddox was right beside me.”
“He claims you did that without consulting him.”
“Can we talk about this later, Captain? Right now I want to deal with Rooney.”
Martin agreed to have Hicks and Maddox meet him in the command van. When Talley arrived, he still did not tell them that he had spoken with Thomas again, nor the true reasons for everything he was about to do.
“We know that Rooney is sensitive to the perimeter. I want to cut the power to the house, then shake him up with a Starflash to make him start talking.”
A Starflash was a shotgun-fired grenade built of seven to twelve submunitions that exploded like a string of powerful firecrackers. It was used to disorient armed subjects during a breach.
Hicks crossed his arms.
“You’re going to fire into the house with the gas in there?”
“No, outside. We need to get his attention. The last time I pushed the perimeter, we didn’t have to call him because he called us.”
Martin glanced at Maddox. Maddox nodded. So did Hicks. Martin shrugged, then looked back at Talley.
“I guess you’re in command.”
They were on.
THOMAS
Thomas listened at his door. The hall was quiet. He edged back along the walls to his closet, and then into the crawl space. He stopped to listen at each vent. Jennifer was still in the kitchen, but he couldn’t hear anyone else. All he needed was a laugh or c
ough or sneeze to fix their locations, but he heard nothing.
Thomas’s house was shaped like a short, wide U with the wide base of it facing the cul-de-sac and the stubby arms reaching toward the pool. Most of the crawl space followed the inside of the U except for a branch into a dead space above the wine cellar. Thomas had always thought it weird that they called it a cellar when it was just a little room behind the bar in the den.
It wasn’t easy to reach. The wine cellar had its own air-conditioning system, a single compressor that hung in the dead space, suspended from the rafters by four chains and filling the crawl space with its width. Thomas had to wiggle under the compressor to reach the hatch on the far side; there was no way around. Thomas had squeezed under it before, but not often, and he was smaller then. He lay on his back and inched under. Flat like that, his nose still scraped the compressor’s smooth flat bottom. It smelled damp.
When he reached the hatch side of the compressor he was wet with sweat. The dust that covered him turned to slick mud. It had taken a lot longer to get under it than he thought.
Thomas listened at the access hatch. After a few seconds, he slowly lifted the hatch. The wine cellar was empty and dark. It was a long narrow room lined with floor-to-ceiling wine racks, kept at a chilly fifty-two degrees. Thomas clicked on his flashlight, wedged it in the rack against one of the bottles, then turned himself around to dangle his feet and feel for footing. In a few moments he had reached the floor.
He eased open the door. The den beyond was bright with light. He could hear the TV in his father’s office across the hall and Jennifer in the kitchen. He heard a male voice, but he couldn’t tell if it was Dennis or Mars; he was pretty sure it wasn’t Kevin.
The den was a cozy, wood-paneled room that his father used for business meetings and smoking cigars. Two dark leather couches faced each other across a coffee table, and the shelves were filled with books that his dad liked to read for fun, old books about hunting in Africa and science fiction novels that his father told him were worth a lot of money to collectors. A bar lined by four leather stools filled one side of the room. It was the one room in the house where Thomas’s mom let his father smoke, though she made him close the doors when he had the stogies fired up. Thomas’s father liked calling them “stogies.” It made him smile.
