‘Jesus Christ,’ Finn exploded. ‘It was a simple job. How can you screw that up?’
‘Take it easy, boss,’ Moon said. ‘It’s under control. No cops involved.’
‘It’s not the cops I’m worried about, you imbecile,’ Finn ranted at him. ‘How’d you figure I knew about the video in the first place?’ He turned back to Ritter. ‘She’s one woman. She’s not the US fuckin’ Marines. I thought you said Spicer took a partner along.’
‘Jesse Zimbert,’ Ritter said, nodding.
‘So what happened to him, she shoot him as well?’ Finn demanded.
‘He was outside in the car,’ Ritter admitted, looking down at his feet. ‘Plan was to stay hidden until Spicer came out, then move the car up close to the door and get her in the trunk. Instead, Zimbert’s waiting in the car when he sees the Hayes woman run out of the house and take off.’
‘His buddy gets half his leg blown off just a few yards away and he doesn’t even hear the shot? Is the guy stone deaf or what?’
‘Says he was listening to music,’ Ritter replied, shamefaced.
‘Music!?’
Ritter flushed deeper red. ‘He’s into Hideously Mutilated. That’s a band. Goes around with earphones on. I guess he must have been wearing them when Spicer was inside the house.’
‘You ever see him wearing them again, you put a bullet in his brain,’ Finn raged. ‘That’s an order. No, in fact you put a bullet in his brain anyway. Now you’re going to tell me he lost the bitch and we’ve no way of knowing where she is?’
Ritter could give a more positive answer this time. ‘He went in the house, found Spicer halfway down the stairs, bleeding all over the place with his damn leg hanging off. Spicer told him what happened. Then Zimbert got back in his car and took off after her. Caught up with her Honda on the expressway. Meanwhile, he called in some more guys to take care of Spicer.’
‘Spicer can live or die,’ Finn said. ‘It’s her I’m interested in. Where’d she go?’
‘Said she was heading for the zoo. That’s the last I spoke to him. We tried calling you. Your line was busy. We came here.’
‘The zoo,’ Finn snorted. ‘We sure about that?’
‘That’s what he said.’
‘What’s she gonna do, hang out with the monkeys?’
Moon tittered. Finn was going to tell him to shut up when his phone rang. It was O’Rourke.
‘Guess who just called me,’ the police chief said. ‘Sounded all shook up. Says someone tried to pull a number on her. Was it your boys?’
‘I don’t know anything about that,’ Finn replied, which meant yes. ‘We have a present location?’
‘City zoo,’ O’Rourke said. ‘I have people on their way. Awaiting further instructions. What you want me to do?’
‘No damage,’ Finn said. ‘I don’t want her harmed, not yet. Bring her to me. Usual place.’ He slipped the phone back into his pocket, smiling. Things were under control again. The noose was retightening. Their little friend Erin Hayes was giving them the runaround but there was no way she was getting out of it this time.
Suddenly it was Ritter’s phone ringing. ‘Zimbert,’ he said, fishing it out and looking at the caller ID. He put it to his ear, listened without expression, said nothing for thirty seconds. ‘Okay. Keep me informed.’ He ended the call and turned to Finn.
‘Okay, she just left the zoo,’ he told his boss.
‘With the cops?’ Finn asked.
Ritter shook his head. ‘Alone.’
‘Shit,’ Finn muttered. They must have just missed her. ‘So we’re depending on this idiot Zimbert not to lose her?’
‘We won’t lose her. While she was inside, he found her car in the parking lot and put a GPS tracker under the wheel arch. She’s heading south. He’s on her tail. Just picked up a couple more guys for backup. Still want me to put one in his head?’
‘I want you to get the hell after her, is what I want,’ Finn yelled, pointing at the door. ‘Bring the bitch back to me alive and talking. Got it? Now move your asses. And don’t ever come back here.’
Ritter and Moon hurried out of the building. As they ran to the van, Ritter called Zimbert back. ‘On our way. Keep your distance and no moves until we get there. Read me?’
‘I can’t wait to get my hands on this bitch,’ Moon said, leaping in behind the wheel. ‘Sweet, sweet. Come to Daddy.’ He fired up the GMC’s engine and hit the gas hard. The van pulled a tight U-turn in front of the building and squealed out into the traffic.
As they sped up the street, both Ritter and Moon were too intently focused on catching up with their target to notice the grey Jeep Patriot that pulled away from the kerb a little distance up the street, slotted into the steady flow and fell quietly in line behind them, three cars back.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Erin was approaching the heart of downtown and still the silver Lincoln was close behind, following every way she went. Traffic was slow. She was still several minutes’ drive from police headquarters.
Her thoughts raced. Why not just head straight to her destination? Maybe when her pursuer saw where she was going, he’d get scared and back off. Or maybe he wouldn’t. He might just hang around and wait for her to come out. She had no idea what O’Rourke was going to do when she got there. For all she knew, she’d be turned loose again with nowhere to go except another motel to lie low in. Except it wouldn’t be lying low if this guy followed her there. She quelled the panic that bubbled up inside her. She suddenly knew what to do.
She hung a left turn, then another, then a right. She blasted through a green light about to turn and smiled to herself as the Lincoln was forced to a halt at the red light. Sixty yards down the street was a shopping mall with an underground car park. Her tyres squealed as she turned in sharp left and went down the steep ramp. He’d have seen her, but it didn’t matter. The red light had bought her some time, maybe two minutes, long enough to tuck the Honda away where it would be hard to find and make her way on foot up to the mall above. She could easily lose him there. Then she’d emerge back out onto the street and hope to hail a cab. Tulsa wasn’t New York; taxis didn’t exactly come by every five seconds. But she might get lucky, and if not she could jump on the first bus she saw.
But Erin was too slow. Either her pursuer had jumped the red light, or she’d misjudged the time advantage it would give her. She’d left the Honda parked in the shadows between a thick concrete pillar and a dusty red Toyota pickup and was running in the direction of the lifts when the silver Lincoln came speeding down the ramp. It swerved towards her, engine echoing in the underground cavern of the car park. It squealed to a halt between her and the way to the lifts, cutting her off. The driver’s door swung open and the man in the loose check shirt over the red T-shirt got out. An overhead neon was faulty, flickering on and off and throwing his face into shadow.
Erin instantly turned and started running back towards her Honda.
‘Erin, stop,’ he called out.
She knew that voice. She stopped and turned. He was standing by his car.
Erin narrowed her eyes and peered at him.
‘Detective Morrell?’ She stared. This didn’t make sense. Why had Topher Morrell been following her? Before she called the cops?
‘You’re surprised to see me. I understand that,’ Morrell said, stepping closer and holding up his palms as if to say, ‘Trust me, I won’t hurt you’.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘I can explain.’ He took another step towards her.
Confused thoughts raced through her mind. She backed away from him. ‘Then do it from right where you’re standing. Don’t come any closer.’
‘I’m one of the good guys,’ he said. His look was sincere, almost pleading.
‘A man attacked me in my home and tried to stick me with a fucking needle. Now you’re tailing me around the place. I don’t know who the good guys are any more.’
‘Erin,’ he said. ‘Can I call you Erin?’ He approached
another step.
‘I mean what I say.’ She took out the Springfield and pointed it at him in the same steady two-handed grip she’d used when she shot her attacker.
Morrell stopped. He looked at the gun. ‘You don’t need that.’
‘Can’t point a gun at a cop, right? That’s a federal crime. Sorry. Right now I’d rather take my chances.’
‘I’m not just a cop,’ he said. ‘I’m working with the FBI. That’s what I need to talk to you about. Please, put the gun away. At least quit pointing it at me. Let me explain.’
‘FBI?’ she said, confused.
‘Trust me.’
She shook her head firmly. ‘Not a chance. Not until I see some ID.’
‘All I have is my police badge. I said I was working with the Feds. I didn’t say I was one of them. It’s off the books.’
‘Off the books?’
‘Please. You need to trust me. You’re in danger.’
‘You don’t say.’ She sighed, then lowered the gun and let it dangle at her side with her finger off the trigger. ‘Okay. Then talk. But don’t come any closer.’
‘The FBI are investigating Finn McCrory. It’s a covert operation. I’m part of it. I’ve been part of it for months. That’s why I was so amazed when you walked into my office with your story. I couldn’t believe my luck. You’re the key to this whole operation, Erin.’
‘That’s not how it looked to me. First you looked bored out of your mind with what I had to tell you. Then you sided with O’Rourke when he said my evidence was useless.’
He looked at her intently, as if he was earnestly willing her to believe him. ‘If you let me speak, you’ll understand why I had to act that way. I told you, this is a secret operation. We have to be real careful. One slip and the whole investigation into McCrory’s activities falls apart. What he’s into is worse than you could imagine.’
‘I saw him shoot a man in cold blood,’ she said, tight-lipped. ‘What other activities could be worse than that?’
‘How about the murder of thousands of innocent people? Drugs, organised kidnap and rape, torture, prostitution. Spreading misery and death. And getting obscenely rich off the back of it.’
Erin was too stunned to reply.
‘McCrory deals in arms,’ Morrell told her. ‘And he does it in a big way, using a bunch of corrupt ex-military connections to supply millions of dollars’ worth of weaponry to the criminal underworld. He’s real selective who he sells to. His main customers are a gang called Los Locos. The fastest-growing and most bloodthirsty drugs cartel in eastern Mexico, used to be part of the La Familia organisation until it got ambitious and went its own way. The ATF and DEA come down heavier on them each year and now the Mexicans are tooling up for a major war to protect their billion-dollar industry. There’s gonna be a lot more blood on McCrory’s hands if he isn’t stopped.’
Erin could hardly speak. ‘The man they killed at the cabin—’
‘He was one of their gang,’ Morrell said. ‘Name of Kirk Blaylock. He secretly approached the FBI some months ago, looking to make a deal. In return for full immunity, he was willing to blow the whistle on their whole operation. McCrory’s people must’ve sniffed him out somehow before he ever got the chance. Most likely it was Ritter. He’s the smartest of all of them.’
‘Ritter?’
Morrell nodded. ‘Matt Ritter. Former soldier. About as good as they come, once upon a time. Served with 5th Special Forces Group. Gulf, Afghanistan, you name it, he was there. Then he turned rotten. Spent some years working globally as a private military contractor, doing things you don’t want to know about. Gunrunning is nothing new to this guy. Now he’s back in Oklahoma and he’s got himself a nice cushy number as McCrory’s chief of staff. You’ve met him.’
‘He was one of the two men there that night?’
‘Along with his crony, Billy Bob Moon. Ex-MARSOC. That’s the US Marine Corps Special Operations Command. He’s about as highly trained as Ritter is, and possibly even more dangerous. He’s a psycho who loves to kill for the hell of it, whereas Ritter’s the one with the business brains and the arms connections. The operation buys in hardware by the ton. McCrory flies down to meet his contact just over the Mexican border in Nuevo Laredo every few months. Xavier, but that’s not his real name. Our intel suggests that the guy’s a middleman for Los Locos.’
‘Sounds like you know everything,’ Erin said.
‘Not nearly enough,’ Morrell said. ‘And without Blaylock’s testimony, we couldn’t prove any of it. We had zilch. McCrory’s been way too smart to leave a trail that could lead back to him.’ He smiled. ‘Until now. Now we have a new star witness. That’s you. Your video recording is the first real evidence that links McCrory to any criminal activity. Even without the Blaylock connection, we have him and his guys for first-degree murder.’
‘Then why not use it?’ Erin asked. ‘The proof is right there. McCrory could have been arrested the moment I handed it to you people.’
‘It’s a little more complicated than that,’ Morrell said. ‘Because it goes deeper than just McCrory. They’re connected into everything. Corrupt quartermasters leaking military ordnance out of US arms depots. Police departments from here to Mexico taking bribes to look the other way. The Feds aren’t about to make their move until the time is right to swoop in and take down the whole rotten bunch.’
Erin stared at him. ‘Even the cops are in on this?’
‘Yes, and it makes me sick. That’s why I’m involved, see? Liam O’Rourke. The chief of police. He’s one of them.’
‘Jesus.’
‘The FBI approached me last fall. After grilling me for hours, they finally revealed their suspicions to me about O’Rourke and asked me to be their inside man in Tulsa PD. I could hardly believe it was true at the time. Since then I’ve been spying on O’Rourke and reporting back to them.’
‘That’s why you were so quick to bring O’Rourke in after I showed up at your office,’ Erin said.
Morrell nodded. ‘I had to see his response. The way he reacted to the video footage, that was the final proof. I knew then for certain that he was covering McCrory’s ass.’
‘And you had to pretend to go along with it.’
‘You understand now, right? But I almost bit my damn tongue off trying to cover up my excitement. This was the break I’ve been waiting for. The chance to nail both of those sonsofbitches. Ever seen the chief’s house? Money like that doesn’t come from a police salary.’
‘This is incredible. You’re telling me that both our mayor and our police chief are dealing arms to Mexican drug lords.’
‘We don’t think O’Rourke is directly involved in the transactions. He gets paid to turn a blind eye to McCrory’s little trips and the occasional bit of business he has to conduct in the state, such as the Blaylock killing. He also does his bit to protect the secret location of the warehouse.’
‘The warehouse?’
‘McCrory’s arsenal. All we know is, it’s somewhere in Tulsa County. Ritter and Moon have crews of drivers trucking the stuff out of the state. They cut south across Texas and over the Tex-Mex border to RV with the cartel. Different route every time, different rendezvous points. Impossible to pin down. That’s another part of O’Rourke’s job, to make sure the convoys never get stopped en route. Which means there has to be a lot more money passing hands among the local cops. He’s not the only one. McCrory’s been running a whole network, expanding it year on year. The Feds estimate that he’s got at least thirty people directly working for him, maybe more. Now he’s running for governor, there’s no telling how big his operation could … What’s the matter?’
Erin had turned pale and was looking distressed by something she’d suddenly remembered. ‘O’Rourke,’ she said. ‘I called him. Told him I was at the zoo. He said he’d send someone. I was waiting there for the cops to arrive when … I thought you were one of them. That’s why I ran.’
‘You did the right thing. He won’t find us here.’
/>
‘How did you know where I was?’
‘Followed you from your house.’
‘You’ve been watching me?’
He nodded. ‘Whenever possible. It’s not been easy, juggling a covert operation alongside all the regular duties O’Rourke expects from me, and I can’t let him get suspicious. That’s why I wasn’t there when you were attacked. I wouldn’t have let that happen, Erin, I promise. But O’Rourke called me away on another job and I couldn’t get out of it. When I got back to your place, I saw you driving away like crazy. I figured something must have happened. I could either stick around and find out what, or follow you. Turns out I made the right choice. But you shouldn’t have been allowed to be put in danger. I’m sorry.’
‘Well, you’re here now,’ she said.
‘The man who attacked you. Describe him to me.’
‘Forties. White. About the same height as you, but much heavier. Real ugly.’
‘Could have been any of them. Maybe Joey Spicer.’
‘You’ll know soon enough. I shot him in the leg. Self-defence.’
‘If you’d shot him in the head, nobody would’ve missed him. Spicer’s lowlife scum. We’ll find him and lean on him. He’s tough, but we’re pretty tough too. If we can get him to snitch, it’ll take us a long way to nailing McCrory.’
‘What about me?’ she asked. ‘What happens next?’
‘You’re not safe. I’m going to call my FBI contact, Special Agent Dobbs. We’ll arrange a rendezvous. I won’t let you out of my sight until the handover.’
‘Handover for what?’
‘The FBI will arrange witness security for you.’
‘You mean, a new identity? Relocation?’
‘The full works. Should have been done days ago. Trust me, you’ll be where McCrory can’t possibly touch you. You’re in safe hands now.’
She nodded.
The Forgotten Holocaust (Ben Hope, Book 10) Page 22
