One of the Wicked: A Mick Callahan Novel

by Harry Shannon

  "My contacts say he's representing a consortium of new money from oligarches and eastern European crime syndicates," Hal said. "He may just be high-class muscle, but he's certainly no fool."

  I leaned back on the computer desk. "These guys want me to help them out. They say Bud has stumbled into something bigger than he realizes. If he does locate Faber, Toole, and those stolen goods, Bone may also find himself in possession of a mysterious computer disc. Pesci and Nicky make it clear that what's on that disc could get us all killed. I say 'us,' because they've researched me well enough to know who my friends are, and motivate me by threatening your collective welfare."

  "Delightful." Hal smiled thinly. "Oh, did I remember to thank you for dragging me into this one?"

  "Me, I'm just sitting here steaming," Darlene said. "It frosts my brown ass to hear that and not be able to do anything about it."

  "We are going to do something about it," I said. "I'm just not sure what, yet. Anyway, Bud Stone goes looking for another source of cash. Darlene, since you're up anyway?"

  "Okay." Darlene crossed her long legs in those tight shorts and severely impaired my breathing. "It seems Stone rips off a serious badass drug dealer named Gordo, leaves him alive, but apparently gets set up for a murder charge. Turns out the place is littered with prints belonging to Faber and Toole. Now APBs go out. LAPD also finds the prints of one other 'as of yet unidentified' male."

  I said, "So anyone want to guess who that will turn out to be? I'm betting the setup will end up going one step further."

  "Well, we can't know that for certain yet." Hal shuffled some papers. "Damn it, I had something here about this Nicky fellow, but now I can't find it, due to an influx of senior moments."

  "Believe me, it'll probably be Bud Stone's prints," I said, "even though he most likely wore gloves. Someone wants to place him at the scene."

  Hal frowned. "Can you really be so sure he didn't kill this Gordo fellow?"

  "Maybe, but I agree with Mick," Darlene said. "This Bud hombre seems to be one of the good guys. Whoever is pulling the strings here is very organized and efficient. I say we go on the assumption that the computer will eventually spit out a match for Mr. Stone's military prints."

  "Trust me, Hal," I said. "They're going to set him up."

  "To pressure him," Lopez offered.

  "Hell, this is to tighten the screws on everyone," Darlene said. "Looks like they want that property back. Anyone smart enough to do all of this could easily lift some items Mr. Stone had handled and leave them behind for CSI."

  "The question is, why drag a celebrity like Mick into this?" Hal asked. "Wouldn't that complicate things? Why don't they just go after the disc on their own?"

  Jerry said, "They probably started improvising after the fight with Mick. They saw him with Mr. Stone and decided to use him to pressure the guy. As Darlene said, it seems to me everything that's going on is designed to turn up the heat."

  I shook my head. "I still don't get why they don't just do it themselves. It seems way too complicated to drag so many people into the situation. We must be missing something."

  Hal sighed. "Sometimes the simple answer is the right one."

  Jerry played with the bill of his baseball cap. "If Bud goes down or gets killed, there's nothing to trace this situation back to them. Maybe they don't want a trail. So they use Bud to go after the disc, and use Mick to pressure Bud. Meanwhile, they have some distance from it all, and some plausible deniability."

  "We need to figure out what they're so afraid of," I said. "Then we'll be able to understand the rest of the picture."

  "I'll tell you one thing," Lopez said. "This disc must be worth a fortune to somebody."

  Hal cleared his throat. "If the disc even exists."

  Darlene blinked. "Explain."

  "Well, it is also possible to look at this as a setup in another way. Mick, you told us that this cowboy character and his partner ambushed Mr. Stone and yourself at the strip bar. That means they were already looking for him. Perhaps Mr. Stone is just a pawn, dragged into it by the very people who are now demanding that he solve their little problem. The question is why."

  Jerry was scratching his scar. "Yeah, why would they go to so much trouble? Wind him up, set him up, and then turn him loose?"

  "Hal's saying it's a possibility that Bud has been worked by them from the very start," I said. "Perhaps they're setting him up to take the fall for something far bigger than a little drug deal gone bad, or even the murder. As you said before, this way nothing traces back to them."

  Jerry seemed dazed. "What's bigger than murder?"

  Hal sighed. "Perhaps the corruption that goes on between governments."

  "Or look at it this way, Jerry," I said. "What if they already have the damned disc, and have had it in their possession all along?"

  "Huh?"

  "It could all be smoke and mirrors. In that case, they'd need some kind of a fall guy to get the international syndicate off their backs, someone who supposedly stole it, or found it and ran off. So they use Faber and Toole to con Bone, as if they came to him on their own, but actually they were just setting him up from the start."

  "And you?" Hal suggested. "Setting you up as well?"

  "I don't think so, Hal. Like Jerry said, I probably just blundered into it."

  Darlene raised an eyebrow. "Again."

  "What can I say? It's a talent."

  "Let us take the potential machinations to another level, then," Hal said. "Bud Stone called you for help. Perhaps he had ulterior motives of his own."

  Jerry snorted. "Okay. This is all starting to sound pretty paranoid."

  I ignored him. "Maybe, but I still think I just happened to step in the cow patty. They were planning on bracing Bud at that club, and picked the wrong drunk. I took them on by surprise, and turned out to be meeting Bud, so now I was on their radar. They probably didn't know he'd arranged for me to meet him there. Suddenly they had to adjust their plans to include me. And now, by extension, you guys."

  "Look, let's assume all that's true," Darlene said. "But once again, why pick your friend Bud in the first place? What the hell is so special about him, his SEAL training?"

  "Could be, or maybe it's nothing. If they just wanted a fall guy, all they needed was someone dumb enough to cough up serious money and get suckered in. Well, and maybe just wild enough to pin a murder on."

  Darlene rubbed her temples. "Or it's the girl, this Brandi, who's the link. What do we really know about her?"

  Smart woman. "Not much, not enough. I left a message on Bud's cell that we'd lost track of her. If I read him right, he's going to have smoke coming out of his ears over that one."

  "By the way," Darlene said, "I narrowed the partial plate Lopez gave us down to six possible owners. Jerry and Dave were hitting the pavement. Guys, do you have anything yet?"

  "Working on it," Jerry replied. "We should have something firm later tonight or tomorrow."

  "I want to go back to something you just said." Lopez eyed Hal on the monitor. "Another idea is that this disc may not even exist?"

  "We have no way of knowing, obviously," Hal said. "I just don't think we should assume it's real merely because they told Mick about it. As a matter of fact, we should probably keep an open mind about anything and everything associated with this rather confusing enterprise."

  "True." Darlene sighed. "However, the people who threatened Mick are real, and quite powerful, so we have to take their threats seriously. After all, Gordo was murdered a couple of days ago. That much we know for certain."

  "So let's catch the rest of the way up," I said. "Bud is out searching for Faber and Toole and a way to solve his problem. When he gets my message, he's going to know that Brandi is missing, too. I'm trying to get out from under this for everyone's sake, including my own. Lopez here was watching Brandi DeLillo."

  "Who gets snatched from under my nose in broad daylight by some very freaking professional people." Lopez glanced over at Darlene. "And so she m
ay or may not be a key."

  "Last, but not least, Bud gets his hands on a matchbook from Gents that leads us to some mysterious guy named ET." I got up and went to the kitchen to make some coffee, called back over my shoulder. "Anybody hungry?"

  No's all around. Darlene said, "Mick, I could get in deep trouble just for being here, you know that, right?"

  "Understood and appreciated."

  "If your friend was there the night Gordo was murdered, he is a material witness at minimum, and here I am just sitting on that knowledge. If anything goes wrong, my career is toast."

  Lopez sighed and cupped his face in his palms. He looked like a beagle puppy. "That goes for me, too, Darlene."

  "For what it's worth," Hal said, "I promise to cover any legal expenses that may arise should there be such a catastrophic conclusion."

  I stopped what I was doing and looked back over my shoulder for the second time. Darlene stared at the computer screen. Her features were blank, but I was surprised her eyes didn't scramble pixels and melt down wiring. "Mr. Solomon, I'm just going to pretend I didn't hear that."

  "Heavens, I still can't find those papers," Hal said, to cover his reaction. "I need to jump off now, people. It is way past my bedtime. You are all valued."

  Jerry studied the carpet. Lopez had a strange expression on his face, a mix of irritation, embarrassment, and gratitude. He glanced at Darlene, who was steaming with offended pride, and wisely opted to remain silent.

  Damn, Darlene was amazing looking when she was pissed.

  "Shalom, Hal," I said. "You're valued, too."

  "Mick, call me tomorrow, as discussed. We need to talk."

  "Will do."

  The screen went dark. I came back into the room with some coffee and cups on a tray, put them on the coffee table, and sat down. "Guys, I appreciate everything you've all done, and the risks being taken. Anyone can jump out at any time and I would understand completely. I brought you here because I honestly don't know what to do next, and I need your input."

  "Playing devil's advocate," Lopez said, "why don't you just go to the department with everything you've got so far?" His cheeks reddened. "Well, assuming you could just leave me and Darlene out of it."

  "Exactly."

  "Well, why not?"

  "That's pretty tempting, except for a couple of other complications. First, the one who is clearly in the most danger is Bud Stone. Well, and apparently this girl Brandi. We don't know what these people would do if they knew the law had been brought into it. They were pretty specific about not wanting that to happen. Would they kill the girl? Come after you guys to get back at me? We don't know."

  Jerry poured himself a cup of coffee, dumped in enough sugar to poison a diabetic rhino. "And would that help, or make matters worse? The way things are right now, we don't have to play by the rules, because what we're doing doesn't officially exist. If you bring in the cops, give them the whole picture, that all changes."

  "And you'd have to finesse me out of things as well," Darlene said. She was still angry at Hal for offering to pay for legal fees. I wasn't sure I understood why, maybe just at the thought of needing an attorney. I wasn't about to ask for clarification. I like my gonads attached to my body. "Leaving me out isn't that easy a thing to pull off this late in the game, Mick. You've been down to the station, we talked."

  "We have a relationship," I replied. "Why wouldn't we talk?"

  "Had, not have," Darlene said abruptly. Ouch. Jerry and Lopez examined their fingernails. The silence went warm and rubbery. I looked away and looked back and when I did, Darlene was looking my way and her eyes were moist. You always hurt the one you love.

  Jerry said, "Mick, by the way, this guy Nikolaou Argetoianu? Little Nicky? I think I know what Hal was trying to remember. Hal's folks opened the door for me, and now I'm getting a ton of data on him. This is one nasty son of a bitch. Interpol record, lots of charges including murder, but no convictions. And the guy shouldn't even be here. He's on a watch list with Homeland Security."

  "He's here, and he didn't look scared."

  "Like Hal said, Nicky is definitely connected to some version of the Russian oligarches, a kind of banking mob, but it's still hazy. He may be the cause of all of this. I should have a lot more on him tomorrow."

  "Thanks." And thanks for changing the subject. "Logic dictates we keep our eye on Pesci, though. He's at the center, and the likely player behind the scenes. He'd easily have the contacts and cash to pull off a large scam and set Bone up to be the fall guy."

  "I'll keep digging on him as well," Jerry said. He drained his coffee, got up. "I'll e-mail you in the morning, Mick, and I promise I won't ever put anything in writing for anyone else, that's between you guys."

  Lopez got up as well. He stared at the carpet.

  "Dave?"

  "Maybe I need to get out," Lopez said finally. "You guys go to the mat on this, I could lose my pension, you know? I hate to be a flake, but. . . ."

  "You want out, you're out," I said.

  "Thanks, Mick. I appreciate that."

  I didn't look at Darlene. Lopez worked for her cousin, but if he turned yellow and went to Internal Affairs, she was sunk. "Just think on it some tonight, and we'll talk in the morning."

  "Okay." He said it with the tone of a man who'd already made his decision but wanted to be polite. He walked out quickly and quietly, just two quick steps behind Jerry.

  I followed Darlene out onto my front lawn. She moved a few feet away from me as if making a statement. Jerry drove away and Lopez followed. Then the street went silent. The stars were out and there was a light breeze. Darlene stared at me. Her brown eyes reflected the skeletal moon.

  "They're both empty," I said finally.

  She cocked her head. "Excuse me?"

  "My heart, my bed. Both of them."

  "Oh, Mick. . . ."

  "I don't know why we fight, and I'm supposed to understand these things. Gender. Pride. Fear. Sometimes I think intimacy is like trying to hold together the wrong ends of two magnets, you know? Some kind of force field gets in the way and won't allow it to happen, won't let them touch."

  "I should go."

  "Yes, you probably should."

  Darlene turned around and took three steps. I followed, spun her around and kissed her lips.

  "Don't," she said. "Please don't."

  I didn't listen.

  Nineteen

  We made love on the living room floor, without speaking and still partially clothed. Afterwards, I placed small candles in the bathroom. I lit them and bathed Darlene before joining her in the tub. We rubbed each other down with towels, stretched out on the bed and listened to an old Ella Fitzgerald recording, a personal favorite of mine. I'd missed her so much, my skin felt hungry.

  "Sometimes I'm sure there is a God."

  Darlene touched my broken nose. "Only sometimes?"

  "When it's a sometimes like this." I sat up in the gloom and found the red numbers on the digital clock. It was only a bit after nine. I found my underwear, stepped into my jeans. "I'm hungry. How about we drive down to Ventura Boulevard for some pasta?"

  "Do you have anything to nibble on?" Darlene patted her trim stomach. "I'm watching my waistline."

  "So am I," I said. "It looks wonderful from here."

  "Thanks, but no thanks on the pasta."

  "No sweat. I probably have some salad stuff, let's have a look."

  I left her getting dressed, flipped some lights back on as I journeyed down the hall and out into the kitchen. I opened the fridge, knelt down in the pool of light and poked around the plastic drawers. "There's not a lot here, bread and cheese, some lettuce and tomatoes."

  "Sounds fine."

  I picked some browning leaves from a small head of lettuce, grabbed the last tomatoes and other makings and got busy. I might have tried to sing; hadn't felt this good in months. Whipped up a pretty good salad in a wooden bowl, prepared it with some fresh cheese slices and a little bread, made us a pitcher of fresh iced te
a.

  I turned to see Darlene standing in the kitchen doorway with a look of almost unbearable sadness on her face.

  "What's wrong?"

  "We shouldn't be doing this, Mick."

  My heart sank. "Doing what, eating salad? It's good for you."

  Darlene moved closer, took the bowls from my hands. I got the cheese and bread and followed her to the living room. She busied herself setting the table. I trailed back and forth like a hungry hound dog, got the iced tea and glasses. I tried to lower the lights again, but Darlene found the dimmer switch and turned them back up. We sat down at the table, stared at each other.

  "Darlene," I said again, finally, "what?"

  She nibbled on a piece of cheese without looking up. "We've already tried a couple of times."

  "Maybe the third time's the charm."

  "Or maybe we end up not even being able to stay friends." Darlene looked up, eyes shining. "I would really hate that."

  My mind spun. What was she trying to tell me? Was Darlene already seeing somebody else? I didn't dare ask, because I didn't really want to know. We got lost in each other's eyes for a moment. Suddenly I heard someone coming up my front steps. Darlene frowned, asked me with a look if I was expecting anyone. I shook my head, got up. My pulse quickened.

  Whoever it was stopped at the door without knocking and didn't ring the bell. Seconds passed. Considering the events of recent days, that served to make me even more nervous. Darlene felt the tension. I held a finger to my lips and eased away from the table. She padded down the hall in bare feet, came back with her 9mm; held it down beside her right leg, pointed at the floor.

  Finally, someone tapped halfheartedly on the metal security door. I stepped to the side and called out. "Who's there?"

  A woman's voice mumbled something. She sobbed. Darlene stepped into the kitchen, puzzled and wary.

  "Hello? Who is it?"

  I turned the handle, eased the front door open. The porch light was off. Another sob, higher pitched. Someone stood there, shoulders hunched forward, half leaning on the metal screen. I had to step out in front of her to find the switch. When the yellow light came on, I saw a tall brunette with smudged makeup and some splatters of dried blood.