The Heart of the Jungle

by Jeremy Pack

  "You're taking the news about Michael's affair with Brunner a lot better than I expected you would."

  Chris frowned. "Well, it's not an easy pill to choke down, but then, I guess it really doesn't surprise me. I don't think Michael loved me either. We were comfortable, and that was good enough." He flashed his wrists at Jason as proof of his damaged view of the universe. "I'm not terribly idealistic. I don't believe in fairy tales like true love or happily ever after, so it's not like there was a dream to be shattered."

  Jason looked thoughtful and then said, "Sorry, all of this must seem immaterial. I'm just trying to get a better idea of the nature of your relationship. It could be pertinent."

  Chris nodded in understanding. "So, the information...."

  Jason stood up and rummaged through a filing cabinet drawer.

  "There's something you should listen to. I think you'll find it interesting." He produced a handheld tape recorder, which he placed on the desktop. He inserted a cassette and pressed a button.

  A tinny recording of a woman's voice issued from the speaker. She spoke in heavily accented English, but her words were clear enough. "I started cleaning up the living room. It was a mess. Mr. Johan, he must have a party the night before. Dios mio. Bottles everywhere and needles.

  Then I hear Mr. Johan yelling. He is very angry. I hear him say, 'You are going to do this, you owe me.' I don't want to hear any more, but I can't help it.

  "Mr. Michael asks what are they going to do with her, and Mr. Johan says, 'Don't worry about the brat, I'll take care of it.' Mr. Michael is worried, I can tell. He says, 'You're not going to hurt her, Johan.' Mr. Johan laughs and says, 'Of course not. She has to be kept safe. I told you, we need her to get to the Heart of the Jungle.'

  "I can't listen anymore. I don't want to know what they are talking about. If Mr. Johan knows I am listening, I don't know what he will do to me. I leave and I tell my daughter Carmenita, 'I don't want to go back to that place. Mr. Johan... he pays good money... but he scares me.'"

  "They were talking about Brianna," Chris whispered, his entire body tensed and trembling. "They had to be talking about her." He stared at Jason with wide eyes. "What's this Heart of the Jungle they were talking about? Why would they need Brianna to get there?"

  "I was hoping you could tell me."

  Chris shook his head. "I have no idea. It doesn't make any sense."

  Jason frowned and pressed a button on the tape player. "Up until I learned about what happened to Michael at the police station, I never knew what they were talking about. I had no idea Michael had a child or a partner. He was peripheral to another investigation, and honestly, I didn't have any reason to dig in further. This was always just a strange, disconnected piece for me.

  "You see, some time ago, I was on Brunner's tail. I'd been hired to recover a stolen statue for a socialite by the name of Hathaway---you've probably heard of her; she's a bit of an eccentric."

  In fact, Chris had heard of Eugenia Hathaway. Her parties were regularly covered in The Sounder, and it seemed like she had at least ten fundraising galas every year for one cause or another.

  "Turned out Brunner sold the piece on the black market, but that's not the important thing here. What is important is that I discovered Michael's involvement with Brunner during that investigation. I'm the one who tipped off MacQuery. I owed him a favor." Jason's eyes clouded for a moment with something that looked suspiciously like a painful memory. The moment passed, though, and he continued. "I thought it might be a good idea for him to rein in his thoroughbred before his whole firm was dragged through the mud. I may have started this whole thing---although at the time, I had no idea that you existed, just that Michael was messing around with Brunner and putting George's reputation in danger." Jason picked up the tape recorder and waved it in Chris's direction.

  "This interview with the maid---the bit about the child and getting to the Heart of the Jungle---it just never made any sense, so I dismissed it. I guess it sat in the back of my mind and festered, though. I never did like a loose end.

  "I'd completely forgotten about it until I learned of the connection between you, Michael, and your daughter in the police station. That's when I knew I had something."

  "Did you take this to the police?" Chris leaned forward, his entire body tensed like a spring.

  "First of all, I'm not exactly cozy with the SPD. I've, uh, stepped on a few toes down there in the past, Callahan's in particular. So, no, I haven't gone to them. Yet."

  "But you have to." Chris leapt to his feet and leaned over the desk.

  "This could change everything."

  "Slow down. We can't go to the police right now. This isn't enough. Chris, you have to understand something about law enforcement: They only act on solid evidence. This?" He gestured with the tape recorder. "This is hearsay.... They won't do anything with it. They can't."

  "But---" Chris was burning with frustration. He paced in front of the desk, his mind whirling with this new information. He stopped and looked down at Jason. "They have to. This proves Brunner was involved."

  "I'll admit it's compelling, but it's not enough. What I think is that Brunner and Michael were planning something, and I'm guessing your daughter was central to those plans. I think we can assume that one of two things happened: Michael and Brunner staged the whole thing and took off with her, or something went terribly wrong. Either way, if we can find out, we might just get some answers."

  Chris was overcome. "You really think she could still be alive?"

  Jason didn't respond immediately. The caution on his face said he didn't want to give Chris false hope. "I don't know. It's possible. Morales remembered Brunner saying she had to be kept safe, that they needed her to get to the Heart of the Jungle."

  "That's why we have to take it to Callahan. Jason, he never had a solid lead before. This is a solid lead."

  "Chris, this is a tape-recorded interview with an illegal immigrant who would never consent to talk to the authorities for fear of being deported. Morales will go into deep hiding if I even suggest it."

  This sobered him. Jason gestured toward the chair and he dropped back into it. His head was reeling. He felt helpless and hopeful at the same time. "If we can't take this to the police, then I don't understand how it helps me."

  "It gives us a place to start. Something to work with. What we have to do now is chase a ten-month-cold trail. We find out what Brunner and Michael were up to, and from there, maybe we can figure out where this Heart of the Jungle is. Once we've gathered enough evidence, then we'll take it to someone. Probably the FBI. Since this involves a child, it's firmly within the purview of the Crimes Against Children Unit. I... know some people there that I trust much more than I trust Callahan."

  For the first time since that awful night, Chris dared to feel a glimmer of hope---real hope. He regarded Jason with gratitude. "I don't understand why you would want to do this for me," he said.

  "I have a soft spot for anything involving children," Jason replied, the painful memory crossing his face again. "And as I told you, I can't stand a loose end. That probably has something to do with the way I pounced on you yesterday. I'm sorry about that. I can be a little aggressive when something's captured my interest. Apart from that, I guess I feel somewhat responsible. If I hadn't butted in, maybe the situation with Brunner and Michael would have worked itself out without MacQuery jumping in and throwing his weight around. They may have cooked up this whole scheme just to get out of the picture. Maybe they were planning to hold your daughter hostage to blackmail MacQuery and get him off their backs."

  "If that's true, then why haven't they done it already? George said Brunner was out of the picture. He said he got rid of him a long time ago."

  "I honestly don't know. That's one of the things we need to find out."

  "How long do you think this will take?"

  "Could be a couple of days or a couple of months. Chris, it could be never. It just depends on how well Brunner covered his tracks."
>
  Chris nodded, keying in on the note of caution in Jason's tone.

  Though he was hopeful for the first time since the murders, he knew he had to keep his burgeoning optimism in check. "When do we start?"

  "Did you look at the papers I left at your house?"

  "Actually, I threw them away," Chris admitted sheepishly.

  Jason smiled. "Don't worry about it. I have copies here." He turned and pulled a folder from a drawer at his side and opened it on the desk. It contained police reports, photos, sketches, and notepaper scribbled with notes.

  "Let's start with what I know about Brunner," he began, drawing on the vast knowledge he'd accumulated about this topic during his previous investigation. "Brunner Investments, prior to its dissolution, was a front company for his less-than-legal business dealings. When I was trying to track down Eugenia Hathaway's statue, I did a lot of digging, I was able to determine that the investors were unwittingly involved in drug trafficking, money laundering, terrorist organizations, the black market... baby brokering."

  Chris gasped. "You can't be serious."

  "I'm afraid I am."

  "You don't think he would have sold my daughter?"

  "As much as the thought sickens me, I can't ignore the connection. Anyway, it's another possibility."

  "But to who?"

  He shook his head. "Lots of mysteries here." He moved on, sliding a page torn from a magazine toward Chris. The clipping contained a photograph of Brunner hoisting a beer aloft with one hand. His other arm was draped around Michael's shoulder. Both men were gazing into the camera languidly.

  "This clipping is from a magazine called The Dish. It's a monthly gay publication from West Hollywood where Brunner owns---owned---a flat. It was taken about a month before the incident."

  "George told me they didn't have any contact after he chased Brunner out of Seattle," Chris said, disbelieving. "He said almost a full year before the murders."

  "He probably had no idea," Jason said, then returned the clipping to the folder. "Brunner is more slippery than you can imagine." He passed a black-and-white photograph of a cheerful-looking Hispanic woman to Chris. "This is Rosalita Morales. She's the woman you heard in the recording. She was employed by Brunner as a maid for about four months, specifically from August through November of last year, right around the time this was all going down. I spoke to her yesterday to follow up on what she said in the recording. She was positive she'd accurately relayed the conversation. She said she still has nightmares about it. She also said that Michael stayed with Brunner frequently and that she recalls seeing him in early November, just after Halloween. Right before Brunner liquidated the flat in West Hollywood and disappeared."

  "But that's---"

  "After the supposed murders. I know. That's why I think there's a good possibility this was all staged and that he and your daughter are still alive. She wasn't sure about the date, though, so don't get too excited yet."

  Chris clenched his fists in his lap and swallowed hard. The further Jason went along, the more likely it seemed his daughter was still alive.

  If some woman had seen Michael after he was purportedly murdered, then Brianna had to be alive too.

  "Brunner has since dropped off the face of the earth. Nobody's heard from him for the past nine months---just as George said. I checked with every connection I can think of. His bank accounts are closed and emptied, and his name doesn't come up in any of the databases I have access to. It's like he's dead."

  Chris's elation diminished slightly. "Do you think he is?"

  "Doubtful," Jason said. "He's got all kinds of connections. More than likely, he's changed his identity and gone underground."

  "Where do you think he is?"

  "Morales said they needed Brianna to get to the Heart of the Jungle. That's important. Are you sure Michael never said anything about it?"

  Chris wracked his brain, struggling to recall. Coming up empty, he shook his head. "I don't know. Michael wasn't the outdoorsy type. I can't imagine him traipsing through a jungle. He hated walking through the park."

  Jason's forehead furrowed and he gnawed at his lip. "Damn." He heaved a sigh. "Well, we'll keep working on it. I have a meeting with one of his former associates who may be able to shed some light on it. Man by the name of Cross. He owns a pub called Lafferty's on the Pier."

  "I know Jeff Cross," Chris said. "I wrote up Lafferty's a long time ago."

  "I know. Your review is probably the only reason Lafferty's was able to stay afloat after the Brunner Investments scandal---something else I looked into."

  "I know they tried to pin a lot of that on him, but I'm sure he didn't have anything to do with it. In fact, Michael and I had a fight about it during Brunner's trial. I tried to tell him that Jeff Cross was a decent man, that he couldn't have been the criminal mastermind they were trying to make him out to be."

  Jason grinned. "I bet Michael loved that."

  "Actually, now that I think about it, he did get really worked up over it. At the time, I just chalked it up to courtroom stress. He told me to keep my mouth shut and that I was naïve and didn't know what I was talking about."

  Jason shook his head and frowned in distaste. "Michael knew Cross was innocent all along, but Brunner was a paying client. In more ways than one. In any case, I'm counting on Cross's grudge against Brunner and his soft spot for you to get some information out of him that he'd be... hesitant to talk about with the police."

  "Are you sure that Cross was really mixed up in all this?" Chris was skeptical. He was having a difficult time picturing the affable restaurateur as a hardened criminal.

  Jason chuckled softly. "Michael was right about one thing, Chris: you are a little naïve. Some bad guys are actually pretty nice."

  Chris blushed in response to the mild ribbing. "It's just... well, Jeff Cross is a family man. He has twin daughters a couple of years older than Brianna, and he seems so... normal. Now you're telling me he's some kind of crook."

  "No, I'm telling you he's no Pollyanna. None of the Brunner Investments partners were clean. Cross used to be an information broker. He passed messages back and forth. Kept the principals out of contact with each other if they were under surveillance. He knows everyone there is to know in Brunner's network. If Brunner went underground, I need to find out who was most likely to have helped him, and Cross will probably have some idea of who that is."

  "If he does, do you really think he'll tell us?"

  "Are you hungry?" Jason asked suddenly, glancing at the clock on the wall.

  Chris looked at him blankly and then followed his gaze. It was 5:10.

  "But we just started."

  "I know a great Japanese restaurant not far from here."

  "Jason---"

  "The place is called Hiroko's, and they have fantastic sushi. How do you feel about sushi?"

  Chris's mouth gaped. "You're not really asking me to eat raw fish seconds after convincing me that my daughter could be alive?"

  Jason took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, steepling his hands beneath his chin. "I'm sorry. I know you're anxious. I have this issue with sensitivity. I promise you, we're going to get answers. We're not going to get them tonight, though." He held Chris's gaze for a moment longer, allowing the words to sink in. "Now, are you hungry or not?"

  It took some time for Chris to regain his wits. He stared at Jason, fighting down the urge to scream. The patient, understanding expression on the other man's face helped him to squelch his anxiety. When he had mastered his feelings, he nodded in response.

  "Settled." Jason climbed to his feet and deposited his files back into the filing cabinet. "Tell you what." He grabbed his jacket off an antiquated coat stand. "Since I'm a compromising kind of guy, we'll make this a working dinner."

  Chris sighed in relief. As he stood, he smiled mischievously at Jason and said, "And since I am a compromising kind of guy, you can buy."

  Chapter 5

  HIROKO'S was a short distance from Jason's off
ice. The early evening was warm and pleasant, and they walked together in companionable silence. The restaurant was set back from the street, and the walkway was lined with Japanese lanterns. The sun was setting, and the delicate glowing lights flickered cheerfully in the long shadows. The delicious aroma of Asian cooking met them at the dainty red gate, and they could hear the sound of a koto playing a haunting melody within.

  The interior was dimly lit and quiet, the clientele low-key and pleasant. Tinkling laughter could occasionally be heard. There was a traditional dining area in the center of the small space, with tatami rooms along the two side walls. The rice paper screens that shielded these intimate little booths were aglow with candlelight that painted the silhouettes of their occupants in charcoal gray.

  Moments after Jason and Chris walked in, a birdlike woman hurried across the restaurant toward them. She demurely touched Jason on the arm and smiled at him through half-lidded eyes.

  The woman rattled off a quiet, melodic greeting in Japanese.

  "Kom ba wa, Hiroko-san," Jason replied comfortably.

  "Okagesamade genki desu."

  She smiled shyly. "I haven't seen you for such a long time." Her command of English was perfect, touched by only a slight accent.

  "Would you like a booth? There is one open." She motioned toward a tatami room near the back that was currently unoccupied.

  After they had settled on the pillows arrayed on the floor around the low table, she served them an aromatic tea and excused herself with a promise to return soon.

  Jason smiled fondly as she departed. "I adore her. She owns the place," he said, sipping his tea. "She's remarkable."

  Chris smiled in agreement, looking around the private space they occupied. "You speak Japanese?" he asked absently.

  "Not much more than simple greetings. 'Good evening.' 'are you well,' stuff like that. Oh, and I can order a beer with the best of 'em."

  "Well, you sounded like an expert to me."

  Jason chuckled, traced the rim of his stoneware teacup, and spoke in a soft voice touched with tenderness. "In her youth, Hiroko's family was detained in the internment camps. Her parents died while they were quarantined, and she was left to raise her baby brother, Keisuke, alone.