The Trade Off

by Frank Zafiro

  I laughed, maybe a little harder than it deserved, but still. “Pesky fraternization policies,” I said.

  “I’m sure that’s it.” He took another bite of the donut, almost finishing it. “Now, what do you want, detective? It must be big, because I didn’t get any donuts last time you came calling.”

  I told him.

  He listened, chewing the rest of his donut and most of another. When I’d finished, he washed down a bite of donut with some coffee. Then he said, “Why don’t you go to Detective Mather? He runs all the tech.”

  “He’s the Coeur d’Alene guy, right?”

  Michaud nodded.

  “I kinda wanted to keep this in-house,” I said.

  Michaud stared at me. I could see his gears turning behind that stare. It took a good fifteen seconds before he popped the last of his donut into his mouth and brushed off his hands. “Is this illegal? Because I won’t do anything illegal.”

  “It’s not illegal.”

  “Against policy, then. I can’t get fired. My wife and I just had a baby three months ago and –”

  “Whoa. You’re married?”

  He stopped. “Yeah. So?”

  “Well, so we don’t have to worry about a no fraternization policy, at least,” I said, smiling.

  He wasn’t amused. “Look, I know these donuts were a bribe. And the flirting part is like a bribe, too. All of it because you want me to do this. I’m not stupid.”

  “I know. You’re smart.”

  “That’s also a bribe.”

  “It’s a compliment.”

  “I’ve been in this job for six years,” he said. “Do you know how many times you’ve complimented me before today?”

  “Not enough.”

  “None,” he said. “Zero.”

  “That’s not true. We worked on that burglary series two years ago. The guy cutting window screens during the summer? He was going in at night and doing occupied res burgs.”

  He hesitated. “I remember.”

  “Well, when we finally arrested the guy, I complimented you.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “I said you did a good job.”

  “Detective Mason said I did a good job. It was her case.”

  I nodded. “It was her case. But I was the one out beating the bushes off of the intel you provided, and I was the one bringing back intel to you.”

  He thought about it, remembering. “That’s true enough, I suppose.”

  “And when Sandi filed the charges, she didn’t take credit for any of it. She said it was all because of my work and yours. You remember that?”

  “Yes.”

  “So there you have it.”

  “But it was Detective Mason that complimented me. Not you.”

  I sighed. “Fuck me sideways, Ryan. Are you always this difficult? I brought you Milligan’s.”

  He glanced at the white bag on his desk. “Yeah,” he admitted.

  “And I know for a fact that all of the tracking equipment is digital. It’s software.” I pointed at the screen. “And it’s on your computer.”

  “But Detective Mather is—”

  “Not here.” I took a step forward. “Do you go to the unit briefings, Ryan?”

  “Of course.”

  “Do you know where things are in this investigation? Especially after what we discovered last time I came to see you?”

  “Of course. I analyze all the data. I provide—”

  “Did the El Tee tell everyone that we’re going to be shut down in a couple of days?”

  “Shut down?” He shook his head. “That’s impossible.”

  “It’s true.” I shrugged. “Well, call it what you want, but we’re going to launch the endgame. Execute all our search warrants. Arrest everyone.”

  “Now?”

  “Now.”

  “But why? We don’t have—”

  I held up my hand, cutting him off. “Some suit in D.C. decided it’s time. And it’s their dime.”

  He sank back into his chair. “It doesn’t make sense,” he whispered.

  That was when I realized how much work he must have put into this operation. Up until that moment, I might have understood the fact that other people were laboring, too, but it was mostly just an intellectual understanding. Not an emotional one. I was the one at the tip of the spear. But the way Michaud sank into his chair with such defeat, I realized this operation was much bigger than just me.

  “That’s why I need to find Anton,” I told him. “I need to know where he lays his head at night. If this is ending soon, I want to get those last two girls out.”

  He nodded. Then he sighed. “He’s got a half dozen different places he stays. It’s hard to know where he’ll be at any given time.”

  I held up my cell phone. “That’s why I’m here, Ryan.”

  Convincing Michaud was the hard part. Getting Anton on the line and stringing him along so that Michaud could get a fixed location was easy in comparison.

  Icky, but easy.

  “Shee-it, H.,” Anton said after spending a full minute berating me for calling so early. “I can maybe scratch together one or two but they won’t be young or nothin’.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” I said. “After I promised my clients those other two and that fell through, I need something to keep them off my back.”

  “I hear that. Bosses be a pain in the ass.”

  “They’re not my bosses. They’re my clients.”

  “If they be paying you and telling you what to do, they bosses.”

  I got another good forty seconds out of him arguing about the difference between bosses and clients. Or rather, listening to him explain that there wasn’t any difference.

  When we finally got back to price, I dickered a little more than usual and drew him out for another minute or more. By the time we started to discuss the meet, Michaud gave me a thumbs up and a smile.

  “Let’s make it at six o’clock tonight,” I said. “I need to make some calls. And I have to rent a travel van.”

  “That shit don’t take all day.”

  “Six,” I repeated.

  He sighed. “Fine. How ‘bout we make it up there at Bowl and Pitcher, by the river?”

  “The park?”

  “Yeah, that’s it. It’s pretty there. And quiet, ‘cept for the water from the river. That shit’s loud.”

  I didn’t care where we set the meet, so I agreed. Anton grunted, and hung up.

  I turned off my phone. Then I turned to Michaud. I pointed to the white bag of donuts. “You bought those on your way in this morning,” I said. “And you never saw me.”

  The look on his face was difficult to decipher. The closest I could come was queasy resignation.

  Amazingly, Michaud’s software narrowed down Anton’s location to a single house. I drove back into the same part of town I’d left only a couple hours before and cruised through the residential neighborhood near Harmon Park. I found the address Michaud had given me easily enough. The same dark blue Lincoln Anton had rode in at our meet at Joe Albi sat at the curb in front of the house.

  Bingo. Just like that.

  I crept up to the house and peered through a side window. Anton lounged on the couch. A remote dangled lazily from one hand. The other was in his pants. The light from the TV flickered across his face while he watched, trance-like.

  No sign of anyone else.

  I headed around back, checking the yard for a dog first. None. This was too easy.

  The kitchen window was curtainless but the back windows were blacked out with dark drapes. I wondered if Anton had any muscle in there with him. If he did, that made things more complicated.

  I tried the back door. Miraculously, the knob turned.

  You’re kidding me.

  Anton wasn’t exactly security conscious. That surprised me, especially in this neighborhood.

  Then again, if people in the neighborhood knew who Anton was, it wasn’t like any of them were going to burglarize the place
. Still, there was always the possibility of some criminal just walking through the neighborhood trying doors who could stumble upon this one, not knowing who lived here.

  I pushed those thoughts aside. Instead, I drew out my gun. The steel of the Kahr .40 caliber had a nice, mean look to it. It would make a nice impression.

  The door squeaked on its hinges as I slowly opened it, but the sound was muffled by the television. I listened to the rhythm of the soundtrack, which sounded like it was from some kind of action movie. When I got the door opened wide enough to slip through, I stepped into the kitchen.

  Just as carefully, I shut the door behind me.

  My heart raced, pounding in my ears. I was over the line now. There was no legitimate reason for me to be here, undercover or not. If things went sideways, I was looking at a career ender. Hell, these days, they’d probably file burglary charges against me, too.

  I stepped carefully through the small kitchen and to the doorway that led to the living room. There, I took a couple of deep breaths. I wiped the sweat from my palms onto the leg of my jeans, and gripped the Kahr tightly.

  There was still time to turn around. No one knew yet. Except Michaud, and if I turned around now, no one would ever know about any of it.

  Suddenly, the sound from the TV cut off. The house went silent. I could hear Anton’s breathing just through the door and to the right. I had a sense that he was listening carefully for something.

  Not something.

  Someone.

  Me.

  I knew that if I just stood there, he’d sense me sooner or later. Maybe get up and come looking, or go for a gun. I’d almost lost the element of surprise, and was about to lose it altogether. There was no turning back now.

  I raised the gun in front of me and stepped through the doorway.

  The surprise on Anton’s face was ridiculous. He froze, a confused expression plastered across his visage. He didn’t seem to register the gun at first, just me. Once his brain caught up to the fact that it was actually me standing in his living room, he seemed to notice the gun, and was confused all over again.

  “I’ll make this easy for you, Anton,” I said, my voice low and firm. “Just tell me where those two girls are. That’s all I want.”

  He blinked, then shook his head. “The fuck you doin’ here, H.?”

  I stepped closer, extending the barrel toward the center of his face. “The girls. Where are they?”

  “This shit be crazy.”

  “It’s going to get crazier if you don’t tell me what I want to know.”

  “You ain’t gonna shoot me.”

  I leaned forward, showing him the steel in my hand and in my eyes. “You just fucking try me,” I said.

  He opened his mouth, then stopped. After a moment, he closed it with an audible snap. “This is some cold shit,” he muttered.

  “Last time I’m asking. Where are they?”

  He held up his hands. “Easy, man. You been watchin’ too many movies or something. Relax.”

  I pointed the gun at his knee. My finger twitched.

  “A’ight! Shit!” He held his palms out toward me. “Crazy bitch. I’ll tell you.”

  “I’m waiting.”

  “They went down to Tri.”

  “I need an address.”

  He sighed. “Man, if I do that, they gonna know it was me. And then they tell they bosses and shit, and that gonna be ugly as a motherfucker.”

  “Ugly and alive is better than pretty and dead.”

  He nodded slowly. “Yeah, true dat.” He sighed again. “A’ight, fine. It at five…two…seven….uh, G Street.”

  “That’s bullshit.”

  “For real!”

  “Empty your pockets.”

  “Why?”

  “Do it.”

  “Shit,” he muttered.

  Reluctantly, he pulled each pocket inside out. His left front pocket had a slip of paper with the address of 416 F Street.

  “Clever,” I muttered. “Is this Kennewick?”

  He shook his head dejectedly. “Nah. Pasco.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know, man. I got bosses, too. They told me those girls was too hot, and they needed to go down to Tri now. So I sent them down. That’s it.”

  I slipped the scrap of paper into my own pocket. Then I stared at Anton. “If I get down there and they know I’m coming?” I nodded my head toward him. “I’ll come back and put a bullet behind your ear. I even suspect you warned them, and I’ll be back.”

  “Shee-it, H. Why you gotta go all gangsta on me? We had a nice business going.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “I ain’t gonna call. You think I’m that stupid? You go knock yourself out down in Tri, but far as I’m concerned, I ain’t knowing you at all.”

  “I hope so, for your sake.”

  He stared back at me. “This don’t end well,” he said quietly, suddenly more serious than I’d ever seen him. “Not if you bump against them dudes. They ain’t no fuck around crew.”

  “I’ll take my chances.”

  “You ain’t got no chance, but good luck all the same. I hope they fucking shoot you in the face, honestly.”

  I backed away from him, opening the front door and backing out of the house. I left the door open so I could watch him as I walked down the short walkway to the sidewalk. He didn’t move. He just sat and stared at me with a hateful expression.

  Once I figured it was safe, I turned and power walked the hell up the block. I jumped in my car and left the block backwards, too. No sense taking chances.

  Once I was clear of the neighborhood, I got onto Interstate-90 and headed toward the Tri-Cities. Anton would call or he wouldn’t, but I had a job to do either way.

  SEVENTEEN

  Bull

  Sleep evaded me. The woman had left a mark I couldn’t see but could feel. Loneliness stark in the dawn light.

  Forget it. I climbed from the bed and pulled on my discarded clothes. I had a lot to do that day and time slipped so fast, I worried I’d never find my niece.

  I’d paid in advance for the motel room with my credit card so left without talking to anyone. Finding my truck, I climbed in and pulled the cell phone I’d lifted off the dead Asian from the glove compartment.

  The simple piece watched me, taunting me. I had a plan and had to figure out how to make it work, not implement it, that was nothing, but actually force it to get me the results I needed.

  But what could I do?

  I needed some time to consider the steps and also to check in on my businesses.

  Some things required time, even if there wasn’t any left.

  An insistent buzz filled the truck. I stared down at the dead man’s cell phone in confusion for a second before I realized it was my phone that was making the noise.

  I glanced at the screen and saw Rick’s name and number. “Hey,” I answered, pressing the phone to my ear.

  “Bull? Jesus. Did you find her?”

  I swallowed. “No,” I admitted. “But I’ve got some leads.”

  He let out a wavering sigh. “Well, that’s more than the cops have. Or at least what they’re saying.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I got a call from the Sheriff’s Office a while ago. They said they’re upgrading Taylor’s status to missing.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Yeah, I guess. I mean, I think so. But they won’t tell me why. The cop I talked to said something about the passage of time and having exhausted other likely possibilities, but I got the feeling he was holding something back.”

  “Cops always seem that way,” I told him, tapping the Asian’s phone against my thigh.

  “Marley agreed with me. She went down to the station to talk to a supervisor.”

  “Okay.” I didn’t know what else to say, except maybe that I was glad I wasn’t that supervisor.

  “Do you think she’s dead, Bull?”

  “No!”

  “What i
f she is? What if she’s dead and they just don’t want to tell us yet?”

  “Rick…”

  “Oh, Christ. If she’s dead, I’ll…I’ll…I don’t know what I’ll do.”

  “She’s not dead.” She can’t be dead.

  “How do you know?” His voice sounded both frantic and hopeful at the same time.

  “I told you, I’ve got some leads.”

  “Like what? Tell me.”

  “I don’t want to get into it right now. But the word I’ve got so far is that she’s alive. So calm down, okay?”

  “Don’t tell me to fucking calm down!” He snapped, his voice thick with tears. “Just find her, Bull. Find my little girl!”

  “Look, Rick, I’m doing my best. Did you tell anyone I was looking for her?”

  “No. I told you I wouldn’t. I won’t.” Rick gasped on the last word. “I need to go. Marley’s pulling in the drive.”

  “All right. Keep it together, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  I hung up.

  He didn’t know what I’d done.

  Like I would reveal that to anyone.

  I barely believed it myself.

  I hadn’t even gotten a trophy from my kills.

  The thought stopped me cold.

  When had my mind-set changed the events from accidents and self-defense into a true hunting success? That’s when the plan formed. When I accepted that I couldn’t change what I was doing, couldn’t go back the way I’d come. I couldn’t unkill those men, but I could go forward, doing my best to finish the job I’d started.

  I hadn’t put the stolen cell phone down, gripped it in my hand the whole time as if I could osmotically determine where Anton lived so I could find him.

  But while I was normally a tracker-style hunter, I had to adapt to the situation. I wasn’t in the woods. I wasn’t even in a standard controlled environment. The city was a terrain ever-shifting.

  I couldn’t sit and wait for my prey to pass by like a passive hunter. First off, it wasn’t my style. Second, it wouldn’t work. Anton wasn’t standard prey – he was a predator in his own right and wouldn’t just walk on by my truck with a damn sign on his back.

  No, I’d have to bait and lure the asshole. The man Anton was like a horrible badger and my job was to get him into the open so I could pull in my tag.