The Promise: An Elvis Cole and Joe Pike Novel

by Robert Crais

  “Amy, does he have a key?”

  “Absolutely not!”

  “Jon.”

  I touched my lips to show him what I wanted.

  He whispered something I didn’t hear, slipped behind her, and covered her mouth gently with his hand.

  Hess set Kelman to open the door, and Darrow at the flank. She stood across the living room by the hall, and I stood by the entrance to the kitchen, all four of us with our guns out. Hess was the first agent he would see. She pointed at Kelman and Darrow.

  “Take down, prone.”

  I said, “Try not to kill him. We need him.”

  Hess smirked.

  “He’s not going to fight.”

  A shadow passed the drapes, and disappeared behind the door. The house bell chimed, followed by two quick knocks. Kelman watched Hess. She shook her head. The bell chimed again, and this time Hess nodded. When the door opened, Mitchell took half a step inside. He stopped when he saw Hess, and immediately raised his hands.

  Hess said, “Hands out to the sides. On your knees.”

  Mitchell’s face was bright red, like a man fighting tears.

  “I give up. Jesus, I’m sorry.”

  Hess shouted.

  “Step in. Get on your fucking knees, Russ.”

  He spread his arms wider and higher, and worked even harder not to cry.

  “I want a deal. Whatever you want. I’ll cooperate.”

  “Get down!”

  He dropped the bouquet, and the flowers fell.

  “Whatever you want.”

  Mitchell broke, and ran. Darrow and I moved fastest, but Mitchell pulled up short before we reached the door. He stood frozen on the porch for an instant, and his gun went off with a high-velocity crack. Russ Mitchell’s body folded beneath a red mist, and fell.

  57

  HESS WAS LIVID.

  “ASSHOLE!”

  She turned from the body, and hurried to Amy.

  “What will Colinski do if he can’t reach Mitchell?”

  Amy was trying to see the body but the agents blocked the door. The street agents from below ran up when they heard the shot, and were on their phones with the agents who remained in the parking lot.

  Amy said, “Did you shoot him?”

  Hess blocked Amy’s view.

  “Stay with me, Amy. Focus. He’s gone.”

  Jon said, “Easy.”

  Hess fired a glance, but gentled her voice.

  “You said Colinski is going to call Mitchell about the money. If he can’t get Mitchell, will he call you?”

  “I’ve never spoken to him on the phone. I barely spoke to him the one time we met.”

  “So he doesn’t have your number?”

  “Not unless Charles gave it to him.”

  “And you don’t have his?”

  “Charles dealt with him. Charles handled all that.”

  I pushed past the agents and went to the body. Someone had cleared Mitchell’s gun, but his body was otherwise undisturbed. I checked for a wallet.

  Kelman said, “Hey. You’re not supposed to do that.”

  “Okay.”

  I turned over the body, and went through Mitchell’s pockets. I was hoping for a scrap of paper with Colinski’s address or a treasure map, but I came up with his phone, wallet, and keys. I tossed the car fob to the closest agent.

  “Check his car. Phone numbers, addresses, contact information.”

  Mitchell and Colinski would have spoken and texted as they worked out their deal, which meant Colinski’s number would be in Mitchell’s phone. I took the phone and wallet inside, gave them to Hess, and went to Amy. She was back on the couch with Jon. Darrow took the phone from Hess, and examined it.

  “Could you speak with Colinski if you had to?”

  “I don’t have his number.”

  “If we could reach him. If we could call him, would you be okay talking to him?”

  She studied me as if she thought I was asking a trick question.

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “He’s a scary man.”

  “I’m a scary woman.”

  Jon smiled, but he didn’t laugh.

  I said, “If I was Colinski, and you called, you know what I’d be thinking?”

  She answered without hesitation.

  “Where’s Charles? Why is this woman calling, and not Charles?”

  Jon nodded, encouraging.

  “What would you say?”

  She glanced to the front door, where the agents hid the body she had not yet seen.

  “I’d tell him Charles is dead. I’d say I shot him, and I hope you won’t let this affect our business.”

  I glanced over, and saw Hess listening.

  “She can do this. She can make it happen.”

  Hess wet her lips like she was getting hungry.

  “We’d have to plan the moves. Keep it simple. We have a lot of moving parts.”

  Mitchell’s phone rang. Darrow was still checking the phone when it rang. He startled so badly he almost dropped it. The Caller ID read WINSTON MACHINES.

  I held out my hand to Amy.

  “Answer or voice mail?”

  Hess took the phone, and held it toward her.

  “You don’t have to. Only if you can.”

  Amy took the phone, and answered.

  “Hello?”

  Hess and I leaned close to hear the other side, but all we heard was silence.

  Amy said, “Mr. Rollins?”

  Silence.

  “Mr. Rollins, I’m here with Charles, and I have a problem.”

  A male voice spoke. Gruff.

  “Who is this?”

  “Amy. We met at your house. With Charles.”

  Colinski warmed, and his voice softened.

  “Hi, Amy. I remember, of course. Please let me speak with Charles.”

  “Charles is dead. I shot him. I’m afraid I had to shoot him.”

  Colinski fell silent again, and at the same time Darrow waved his arms, and pointed at the computer. He mouthed the words ‘the money’ and gave a thumbs-up.

  Colinski had made the transfer.

  Amy said, “Mr. Rollins, are you there? I don’t want this to interfere with our business.”

  Silence.

  I leaned closer, and whispered.

  “Offer to send him a picture.”

  I ran outside to the body, but only Kelman pitched in to help. We dragged Mitchell’s body into the living room, and rolled him faceup.

  Amy went to the body without missing a beat.

  “Here, I’ll show you. I’ll send a picture.”

  She snapped a pic of the head, then frowned at the camera.

  “I took the picture, but I need your number to send it.”

  Hess plucked at my arm, and whispered.

  “We gotta get her off. We have to figure this out.”

  Amy said, “All right, yes, thanks. Here we go.”

  Amy tapped in the number and texted the picture.

  I leaned close again.

  “You’re worried someone heard the shot. You have to check. You’ll call him back.”

  I stepped back, and watched.

  I didn’t hear what Colinski said, but Amy’s voice turned cold.

  “He was disrespectful. Let’s leave it at that. I do not tolerate disrespect. As I said, I hope this doesn’t create a problem.”

  She listened for a moment, before interrupting him.

  “Wait, I hear something. I think the neighbors heard the shot. I have to check. I’ll call you back.”

  Amy played it well. She was believable and convincing, and then she hung up.

  58

  Mr. Rollins

  CHARLES WITH A CRATER in his he
ad the size of a lemon and his eye all bugged out and bloody looked like the kid in the house, the dipshit Eli sent who started this mess. Mr. Rollins wanted to send Eli the picture, and say, y’see, motherfucker, this is your fault.

  But he didn’t.

  Mr. Rollins was angry, but the rules helped him stay true. He thought through his next move carefully.

  “I’ll cover the two hundred thousand, Eli. I’ll take the hit to cover the loss, but it’s time to walk away.”

  Two hundred thousand being the amount Eli paid for the explosives.

  Eli, that asshole, furious.

  “What loss you mean? The loss I take tomorrow because I cannot do my job?”

  “Be reasonable. Let’s think this through—”

  Eli, all over him.

  “I would see four to six million tomorrow. Is this the loss you will cover?”

  “A thing like this happens, here we are, the last second, you have to take notice. Like a warning, Eli.”

  “Here is a warning. You knew my timeline. You knew the truck would have this money. Four to six million. Not today, not the day after tomorrow, only tomorrow. We need this explosive.”

  “She’s lying, Eli. I’m telling you. We should walk.”

  “You cover the four to six million?”

  “There’ll be other trucks.”

  “No. I am telling you. We get the material. My timeline ends now.”

  Eli hung up.

  59

  Elvis Cole

  HESS PACED THE ROOM like a feral cat as Amy described their conversation.

  “He said this didn’t have to affect our relationship. He seemed very agreeable.”

  I said, “You have two hundred thousand dollars of his money, Amy. He’s wrestling with it. We’ll see.”

  Hess stopped pacing, and looked at us.

  “If he goes for it, this happens only two ways. They come here, or she goes to them.”

  Jon shifted.

  “Do I need to repeat myself?”

  Hess ignored him, and went on with her pacing.

  “The Sturges crew, Colinski, these animals are gunned-up killers. I don’t want them rolling into this neighborhood.”

  Kelman shook his head.

  “They wouldn’t go for it. Sturges and Colinski would take one look at this little street, and blow. Sturges might send a couple of his crew, but then what?”

  I said, “The storage place. You already have people there. You’ll need more, but they can start locking it down.”

  “What’s it like up there?”

  I laid out a description of the entrance, the parking lot, and the gate, all of it surrounded by the wall.

  Jon didn’t wait for me to finish.

  “It’s sweet. A perfect kill zone.”

  Hess frowned at him.

  “You’re just lovely, aren’t you?”

  Time was passing, so I pushed us forward.

  “The material they want weighs four hundred pounds. That works for us. Amy can’t move it herself, so if they want it, they’ll have to come get it. She can tell Rollins to meet her in the parking lot with the buyers.”

  I sat beside Amy, and walked her through the rest.

  “Tell him what kind of car you drive. You’ve met, so you’ll recognize each other, right?”

  She nodded.

  “Say so. Don’t mention the cameras, but tell him about the gate and your gate card. When they arrive, you’ll open the gate and take them inside to your unit. Sound good?”

  Amy nodded again.

  “I understand.”

  Hess came over and tried to be encouraging.

  “You’re okay with this?”

  “It isn’t rocket science.”

  Jon laughed again, and I laughed, too, but my laugh sounded nervous.

  Hess held out the phone.

  “All right, Ms. Breslyn. Get some payback.”

  Amy glanced up, and their eyes met. Anger flashed in Amy’s eyes, a volcanic fury that lived inside her and wanted to come out. I knew we were seeing the rage that she carried, and I thought maybe Hess now sought to release it.

  I said, “Let’s call.”

  Amy dialed, and sounded even more natural and convincing. Colinksi seemed reluctant at first, but Amy sold him.

  She said, “Mr. Rollins, I hate to ask, but when our business is finished, after you have the material, would you help me get rid of his body?”

  Hess quietly raised her hand, and gave me a silent high five.

  Colinski agreed to the meet, and when Amy hung up, we raced to the location. Darrow drove Amy’s Volvo. Amy went with Jon, and Pike and I rolled together.

  We arrived first, but first didn’t help.

  60

  Scott James

  SCOTT HAD NEVER been to the tenth floor of the Police Administration Building. The chief of police lived on the tenth. The three assistant chiefs and eight deputy chiefs were on the tenth. Down on the street and at the Academy, the tenth floor was known as Heaven, and the rulers of Heaven were God; the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost; and the eight apostles.

  The tenth-floor halls were surprisingly plain. Most of the doors required key cards or codes to open, but Ignacio had a card and knew the codes, so opening the doors wasn’t a problem.

  Scott was surprised when Ignacio called that morning. He ordered Scott to report to the Boat, in uniform, now. He called at seven-forty A.M., and offered no explanation.

  Ignacio only made one comment.

  “You must have an angel.”

  Ignacio met Scott in the lobby, took him up to the tenth, and introduced him to an apostle. Ignacio left after the intro.

  Deputy Chief Ed Waters was a graduate of the University of Notre Dame. He had a Ph.D. from USC, and a list of law-enforcement accomplishments and credentials that went on for pages. Waters had testified before the Senate and the House many times, and was a likely replacement for the present chief when his term expired.

  Waters currently topped the Counter-Terrorism and Special Ops Bureau, which put him above Metro Division on the LAPD Organization Chart. Since the K-9 Platoon was part of Metro, this placed Scott in Waters’s line of command.

  Waters had smart eyes, a ruddy face, and a stern demeanor. He asked Scott to sit, and described a conversation between Hess and the chief. Hess had made it sound as if Scott helped save America from a national disaster, and took responsibility for any and all of his misdeeds.

  “The chief and SAC Hess have to work together, so forget this business with the complaint. It’s dead.”

  Scott felt uncomfortable, but managed a nod. Most of what Hess told the chief was lies.

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ll send out paper to the Metro C.O. and the commander of Internal Affairs. Your boss will be notified sometime this morning. When you report is up to him.”

  Scott nodded again, but felt even more uncomfortable. He wondered if Waters believed all this bullshit.

  “Great news, Chief. Thanks.”

  He wanted to pick up Maggie as soon as possible. He wanted to turn out for roll call, and get back to work, but Waters didn’t dismiss him.

  The deputy chief leaned forward, and laced his fingers.

  “The SAC went out of her way to save you. I guess she knows she stepped over the line, and she’s embarrassed. Whatever the case, she went to bat for you, and delivered the goods.”

  Scott felt himself flush, and wanted to leave, but all he managed was another nod.

  “Still, I don’t know that I would’ve gone along with her, the way you did. I’d like to think my oath was more important, and my obligation to the department. But maybe that’s just me.”

  Waters fell silent, and seemed to be waiting. Scott thought the man was probably measuring him.

 
“Sir, everything Carter charged in his complaint was true. I disobeyed Commander Ignacio’s order, and I withheld information from Detective Carter. These were my choices, and not the choices of SAC Hess or anyone else.”

  The deputy chief’s expression didn’t change very much. Only a little.

  “Why?”

  “Because a sonofabitch was trying to kill me and my dog.”

  Waters finally stood, and offered his hand.

  “Welcome back, Scott.”

  61

  Mr. Rollins

  MR. ROLLINS met Eli and his crew in the parking lot of a Pizza Hut, three blocks from the storage place, way the hell up in East Jesus a thousand miles from civilization. Eli, sitting there in his classic bronze 1969 SS396 with two of his guys. This freaking beautiful car was like wearing a sign: SEE ME!

  Mr. Rollins had a rule. Draw no attention to yourself. Mr. Rollins was driving a stolen white Camry, the plates having been swapped with an identical Camry he found at UCLA. Toyotas and Hondas were the most common cars in Los Angeles. Silver and white were the most common colors.

  Mr. Rollins leaned on Eli’s door. Eli was one of those tall, lanky guys with a mop of curly black hair.

  “I told her what you drive, so she knows the car. She’s in a beige Volvo. You’ll see her when you turn in.”

  “You are not coming with us?”

  “I’ll be in my car, but we’re not going yet. Wait until I call. I’m gonna scope it out, make sure we’re cool.”

  “Okay. We wait.”

  “If it’s cool, we’ll pick up the gear, and maybe go take care of the body.”

  Eli leaned sideways to peer up at him.

  “You want to clean her garbage, clean. I am not a garbage man. Make more of your meatballs.”

  The two idiots in his car broke out laughing.

  Mr. Rollins walked away.

  “Yeah. Laugh.”

  Ten minutes later, he was on the roof of a nursery across from Safety Plus, studying the Volvo with his Nikon binoculars. A woman sat behind the wheel, but with the glare and glass reflection, he couldn’t see her. The woman he met in Echo Park was round and short. The woman in the Volvo sat low behind the wheel, which maybe meant she was short, or a tall chick, scrunched down.