Mitch recognized the sound of radio static and exhaled, almost collapsing in relief. He gathered himself, got up and unlocked the door. He slid it open to see the big guy in the orderly outfit lying on the floor in a growing puddle of blood, his throat torn open. His blood was speckled over the wall.
Chapter 18
The nurse sobbed quietly as she packed the last item into a suitcase that sat on her bed. A tear rolled down her cheek and clung to the mole on the underside of her chin, dangling there. Her name was Frances and at one time she and Doc had been an item. He had assured her he was going to leave his wife, and she remained faithful and hopeful for over a decade. Doc’s wife, Carmen Canella, wasn’t stupid. She knew what was going on, and when Cakes was out of school, she left Doc. Or rather, she made him leave.
By that time, Doc’s affection towards Frances had waned. She had aged and she knew he was seeing other women. She knew enough about his business to put him in prison for years. And now he had asked her to commit murder. Whether she succeeded in killing the hospital patient or not, whether or not she was caught by the police, this was the end for her, and she knew it. Doc had always said, “remove all liabilities.” She was a liability now, and he would have “removed” her whether she had succeeded or failed. So now it was time for her to make a move.
The phone in her pocket rang and she put it on the bedside table beside a photo of her and Doc in a romantic embrace, several years younger.
As the phone rang, she zipped up the suitcase and wheeled it out of the room to the front door of the cozy apartment. The phone kept ringing as she closed the front door and walked towards the waiting taxi.
***
Doc stood on the wooden patio of his California bungalow, looking over the lush, manicured rose bushes in the garden below. He held the cell phone to his ear and listened as the automated voice mail greeting sounded.
“Please leave a message at the tone.”
“Frances, it’s me. Please call me as soon as you get this. It doesn’t matter what happened, just call. I’m worried about you.” He hung up and put the phone in his pocket.
Chapter 19
Mitch lay in the bed as the orderly wheeled him along the corridor, flanked by two uniformed officers and Betts.
A cleaner mopping the floor glanced in Mitch’s direction and noticed he was conscious. The young woman quickly averted her eyes. Neither Mitch nor the police officers paid her any attention and when they had disappeared into another ward, she took out her cell phone and began writing a text message.
Doctor Philips and Detective Betts stood by Mitch’s bedside in a different hospital room.
“I would suggest that whatever she put in the IV hasn’t entered your body. You seem to have removed it in time,” said Dr. Philips.
“The blood’s being analyzed as we speak,” said Betts. “We’ll know what she used within the hour.”
“Hopefully I’m not dead by then. How did she even get past the door?”
“We’re looking into that now, we’re going to tighten things up, put more officers on duty,” Betts said.
“You’ve got to rest,” said the Doctor, “I’ll have the nurse give you a sedative.”
“No thanks!”
“Fair enough. Let me know if you change your mind. I’ll check in on you later.” Dr. Philips left.
“I’m sorry about all this,” said Betts. “It’s like I said, these people are extremely dangerous and they will do anything to stop you from testifying, which I assume you’re willing to do now?”
“Give me a few minutes to catch my breath, will you?”
“Sure. I’ll be outside.”
Betts left the room and Mitch began to think through his options.
***
Outside Jenkins handed Betts a coffee.
“Thanks. Shame you had to kill him,” Betts said.
“Him or me,” Jenkins said.
“I know, I know. You did the right thing. Did he say anything?”
Jenkins shook his head.
There was a knocking on the glass window of the door and Betts turned to see Mitch with his IV stand beside him, tubed-up. Betts went back into the room.
“You want to help?”
“On one condition. As you know, I went through all this to get life-saving medicine for my nephew.”
“Rituxan.”
“That’s right. If Doc and his crew were behind the truck robbery, they’ll have the Rituxan. And I’m pretty sure I know where they are storing it.”
“Where?”
“I said there’s a condition.”
“What, you want the Rituxan? You can’t be serious. You want me to pass on stolen goods? Goods which happen to be evidence in a homicide?”
“Well, if you want my co-operation, that’s what I’m going to need.”
“Man, you still don’t get it. You need protection. Your sister and her little boy need protection. You don’t get protection without co-operation.”
“That’s blackmail.”
“Call it whatever you want. If you don’t talk, I can’t help.”
“Okay, let’s just talk off the record. You seem like a decent guy to me,” Mitch began.
“Don’t,” Betts interrupted.
“Look, you know my nephew is going to die soon, unless he gets those drugs. I will show you how to get Doc. All I want is your word that you’ll try to get those drugs to my sister. I mean, what use are they to anybody just sitting in police storage?”
“They could be very useful.”
“The boxes, sure, once you take the prints. But the contents, the drugs, they’ll do nobody any good gathering dust, or being incinerated.”
“Are you seriously asking me to break the law?”
“I’m asking you to do the right thing, if the opportunity presents itself. And I promise you, I’ll tell you everything I know. You could save a dying kid.”
“Don’t bother appealing to my soft side. I don’t have one. If you want to get anywhere with me you better give me something I can use. Then, maybe we can work it into a deal. Maybe. No promises. Got it?”
Mitch nodded.
“Now tell me about Doc.
“He’s got a dodgy little back office in West Hollywood.”
“Yeah, we know that already.”
“Bullshit. It’s hard to find and nobody knows about it except a few dealers.”
“So you were one of the few?”
“I know a guy, a work buddy, who sells drugs for the guy on the side. When I told this guy about my nephew, he suggested the Doc might be able to help. I got a referral.”
“Lucky you.”
“Anyway, he keeps all kinds of medicines there. Odds are he’s storing the Rituxan there, hoping to sell it to his patients.”
“Alright. Where exactly is this place?”
Chapter 20
It was approaching 3am and Cakes lay with in bed with his wife Zelda in their spacious bedroom. Her large frame seemed to inflate then deflate as she snored in a deep slumber.
The bedroom door opened slightly and a figure peered inside. Then the door opened a little more and the figure stepped inside the room: Mark, their four-year-old son, crept to their bedside and climbed under the sheets, crawling up beside his father.
“Go back to your bed,” said Cakes. Mark pretended not to hear, placing his father’s arm around him. Cakes kissed the boy’s head. He was about to speak when the phone on the bedside table lit up and vibrated. He got out of bed, picked up the phone and walked into the adjoining bathroom, closing the door.
“Yeah,” he said.
“You heard from your guy?” Doc asked.
“No,” Cakes said.
“Does that mean what I think it means?”
“It means he’s gone. But he might have finished the job before they got him to leave. What about your lady?”
“She won’t answer her phone.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
“If she was in tro
uble she’d have called.”
“So what the hell does it mean?”
“It means we better assume the worst, and remove all liabilities.”
“And what are those?”
“The only liabilities we have are the horse and the cart. The horse is in the stable, secure, but the cart is currently sitting in storage. I’m going to need some assistance,” Doc said.
“When?”
“Now,” Doc said.
“Now? This time of night?” asked Cakes.
“We have to assume the horse has disclosed the location of the storage facility. That being the case, I’d expect a visit. Probably first thing in the morning. So can you help me, or are you too fucking busy?”
“Alright, alright,” said Cakes.
“Good. I’ll pick you up in thirty minutes.”
Chapter 21
It was drizzling when Cakes shuffled out of his inner city apartment building and into the cab of the truck, where Doc sat behind the wheel.
“You spoken to your mom?” Doc asked.
“What, and wake her up? Not on your life,” Cakes said.
“Yeah, I don’t blame you. How did they miss? Both of them?”
“Damned if I know.”
“My cleaner girl at the hospital said the cops moved the Walker kid into another room after the shots.”
“Okay, so we can assume that my guy was KIA.”
“What does that mean?”
“Killed in action. He wouldn’t allow himself to get caught alive. But maybe your nurse got out okay.”
“She would have called. Something’s definitely wrong, I can’t figure out what it is, but something’s fucked up.”
“I’d say she’s gone AWOL.”
“Can you stop talking like that? And that’s not it, she hasn’t gone fucking AWOL.”
“So she’s in custody.”
“No, she would’ve called me right away.”
“Well the only other possibility is that she was KIA too.”
“What did I say? And no she ain’t dead. They’re not going to shoot an unarmed lady in a nurse’s outfit. She’ll turn up. She probably got spooked.”
They drove down the quiet side streets and into the back of a two-story office block. Each of the dozen or so offices had two levels and a roller door garage on the ground floor. Doc backed the vehicle up towards the rear entrance of the building. He got out and walked Cakes over to the roller door of the adjacent office, which he opened.
“Why didn’t you park behind your own garage?” Cakes asked.
“Safety precaution,” Doc said as they walked inside.
Doc closed the door and they walked up a flight of stairs and into his office, then through the waiting room and out the front door onto the balcony overlooking the main street. Doc fiddled with his keys, then opened the adjacent office. He deactivated the alarm and turned on the light. Cakes noticed the diplomas of a Ralph Morrison, attorney, hanging on the wall behind the desk.
“Nice of Mr. Morrison to let you use his office,” Cakes said.
“Yeah, real nice. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him, right? Let’s get moving.”
They walked back into Doc’s office where boxes of Rituxan and other pharmaceuticals lay stacked up behind his desk.
Cakes picked up an armful of boxes while Doc unplugged the computer tower on his desk and hauled it into the office next door.
Chapter 22
At 4am it was business as usual inside the offices of Rampart Police Station. Sipping his coffee, Forrest watched as Betts posted an old mug shot of Doc Roberts on the crime board, placing him as the Mr. X, the link between Mitch Walker and the carjacking photos.
Braun rushed into the office waving a warrant. “Got it! I don’t need to tell you how irritated the judge was at being woken at this hour. So don’t fuck this up!”
“No, sir,” Betts said. He took the warrant and he and Forrest dropped everything and left the room.
Braun picked up the phone. “Sir, we have the warrant, please deploy the SWAT team.”
A minute later Betts was behind the wheel of his undercover sedan, Forrest beside him as they tore out of the Rampart car park, tires screeching.
Chapter 23
Doc was still busy hauling the boxes into the attorney’s office, and was almost down to the last of them. Meanwhile Cakes was carting boxes of Rituxan downstairs, out through the roller door of the attorney’s office and into the back of the van.
Doc heard the distant sirens and knew it meant trouble. He grabbed the last armful of boxes and staggered towards the door as the roar of the engines grew louder. He tripped on the doormat and the boxes went flying all over the balcony.
Scrambling on all fours, Doc collected the boxes and tossed them in through the open front door of the attorney’s office. One of the boxes of Rituxan, he noticed, had fallen through the rails and landed on the ground below. Doc was already out of breath, but if he couldn’t retrieve the box, the cops would surely find it and his fingerprints all over it. Mouth wide open, cheeks dripping sweat, Doc sucked in a breath and fled down the stairs as the police vehicle drew nearer.
He made it to the ground and as he reached down and grabbed the box, his thighs cramped up. His whole body was aching and he could barely breathe. But he forced himself through the pain and hit the stairs as the shop-fronts and the street below filled with flashing blue light from the arriving police vehicle. Doc staggered up and made it to the balcony.
The SWAT van swung into the car park below as Doc dropped onto his haunches. He tossed the box into the attorney’s office, then staggered inside, pulling the door shut as the heavily armed unit stormed out of the vehicle and up the steps. Doc leaned back against the door, gasping for breath.
At the rear of the premises, Cakes had just loaded an armful of the Rituxan boxes into the van when two police vehicles skidded into the car park of the adjacent office – Doc’s office. Cakes dived inside the van, unnoticed. He turned back and pulled the doors shut as four officers, including Betts and Forrest, climbed out and drew their weapons, their focus on the roller door at the rear of Doc’s office.
Upstairs, Doc sat tight as the raid next door commenced. First the sound of the front door being hammered open, then heavy boots stomping through, followed by the obligatory trashing of the place. He waited for what seemed an eternity, hoping he had not left behind anything incriminating. As the ruckus continued next door, he felt a sudden, sharp pain in his chest. His eyes widened and he curled over, clutching his chest.
***
“The building is clear!” came the shout from Charlie, the SWAT leader.
Betts and Forrest entered through the back door. They checked the place over and found nothing but the dusty outline on the floor behind Doc’s desk - where the pharmaceutical boxes had clearly been kept.
“He’s only just cleaned the place out,” Betts said. “The alarm’s been deactivated. They hauled the stock out in such a hurry they didn’t bother to turn it back on.”
“You want us to stick around for a while?”
“No, thanks Charlie. You guys were sharp, as usual.”
“No worries. Hopefully we get another chance at this prick.”
“Yeah. You can be sure of that.”
The team left the building almost as quickly as they had entered, leaving Betts and Forrest.
“Son of a bitch,” Betts said.
“Braun’s going to be fucking furious,” said Forrest.
Betts grabbed the rollerdex on Doc’s desk. “It might not be a total loss.”
***
From the darkness in the rear of the van, Cakes watched through the front windscreen as Betts, Braun and the other cops piled into their cars and drove away. He collapsed on the floor.
“Thank you, God, thank you,” he said.
He climbed out of the van as Doc opened the roller door, looking rattled and fragile, though he tried to conceal it.
“Christ, that was close!” Cakes said.
“I blacked out for a second. Think I might have had a heart attack,” said Doc earnestly.
“You and me both.”
“Come on. We got to load the stuff into the van before the neighbor rocks up.”
“I got to use the facilities first. Hope you got plenty of toilet paper, I think I crapped my pants.”
Doc climbed into the front seat of the van and caught his breath.
Chapter 24
Doc parked his van in the grungy alley beside a black sedan. He and Cakes got out and were greeted by Ray, a slick looking young guy. Doc led him to the back of the van and opened it, revealing the stockpile of Rituxan.
“Rituxan? I never heard of it.”
“You wouldn’t, unless you were dying of leukemia. Then you’d know that this shit is more valuable than gold.”
“Okay. So, I’m targeting the sick, the dying and the desperate. Motivated buyers, that’s always good. What would they normally retail for?”
“About ten thousand a box.”
“Jesus! Okay, good, okay…only problem I can see is where to find the customers?”
“Where do you think dying leukemia patients spend most of their time?”
“In bed?” Ray said.
“In bed where?”
“At home?”
“In hospital, numb-nuts! Cancer wards. There are thousands of people with leukemia. It’s a soft sell.”
“Right, of course, yeah.” Ray reached into his jacket and pulled out a wad of cash, which he handed over.
“Be smart about it,” Doc said, “if you get in trouble, I don’t know you. You found the stuff in a dumpster.”
“Of course, no worries,” Ray said, as he picked up a box.
***
Inside the van Doc handed some of the cash over to Cakes and pocketed the rest.
“Not a bad score for a couple of day’s work, ay?” Doc said, wearing a beaming grin.
Brazen Violations Page 6
