by Robert Crais
“Look, I don’t care, and I don’t want to talk about it. You want to do this or not?”
He looked at her.
“I want to do it.”
“Then let’s go.”
She started to slide out of the booth. He took her arm, stopping her.
“Carol?”
“What? Don’t touch me like that, Pell. I don’t like it.”
“I fell in love with you.”
She hit him again, so fast that she didn’t even know she was doing it. The people at the surrounding tables looked at them.
“Don’t you say that.”
Pell felt his face.
“Jesus, Starkey, that’s three.”
“Don’t you say that.”
He shoved himself out of the booth.
“The computer is in my car.”
They went to her place.
It was hard looking at Pell. It was difficult being in the same room with him, but she told herself to be strong. They had brought themselves down this road together. There was no other way to play it, but she was uncomfortably aware of the feelings she’d had when they’d been in this position before.
They set up the computer at the dining room table, and Starkey signed on as before. It was earlier than the previous times she’d had contact with Mr. Red, but she couldn’t just sit. When the flaming head stared out at her, she entered the chat room, which was empty.
Pell said, “What are you going to say?”
“This.”
HOTLOAD: John Michael Fowles.
“Who’s John Michael Fowles?”
“Mr. Red. Warren Mueller got his prints off Tennant’s book. I knew that if Red had gone in there, Tennant would have made him look at that damned book.”
Pell stared at the screen. Starkey saw his lips move, as if he were reading the name silently to himself, branding it into his cells.
Starkey didn’t expect Fowles to be waiting for her, not this early in the day. He might come anytime, or no time; they might have a long wait. She struck a cigarette, and told Pell that if he wanted anything in the kitchen, he could find it for himself. Neither of them left the computer.
Fowles was there almost at once.
WILL YOU ACCEPT A MESSAGE FROM MR. RED?
Starkey smiled. Pell shifted forward, Starkey thinking he might fall into the computer.
“Fast.”
“He’s been waiting.”
She opened the window.
MR. RED: Excellent, Detective Starkey. You rock.
HOTLOAD: Your praise makes me blush.
MR. RED: How did you learn my name?
HOTLOAD: Ah … a question. Do you want the truth, or do you want me to tell you what you want to hear?
MR. RED: I am laughing, Carol Starkey. Well done.
Starkey did not answer.
Pell said, “Why aren’t you answering him?”
“Let him wait. It’s a game he plays.”
Finally, another message appeared.
MR. RED: The truth is a commodity. What will you want in return?
HOTLOAD: You will have to answer a question of mine. Do you agree?
MR. RED: Within reason. I will not tell you my whereabouts or answer questions of that nature. All else is fair game.
HOTLOAD: Agreed.
MR. RED: Agreed.
HOTLOAD: Tennant’s book. When I realized that you had seen him, I knew he would have made you look at the book.
Fowles again fell silent. It was several moments before he replied.
MR. RED: Fuck.
HOTLOAD: Only in your dreams.
“Christ, Starkey, how close are you two?”
“Shut up.”
MR. RED: Do you know why I looked at his book, Carol Starkey?
HOTLOAD: To read the articles about yourself?
MR. RED: To read the articles about you.
Pell shifted again. Starkey watched the screen, thinking, then typed:
HOTLOAD: Now, my question.
MR. RED: Yes.
Starkey hesitated. Her fingers trembled, and she thought of the flask again. She lit a fresh cigarette.
Pell saw the tremble.
“You okay?”
She didn’t answer him.
HOTLOAD: I ask you again: Would you have come to Los Angeles if we had not baited you?
MR. RED: The truth, or what you want to hear?
HOTLOAD: Answer my question.
Fowles paused again.
“What’s he doing?”
“He’s thinking. He wants something. He’s trying to figure out how to get it.”
“What does he want?”
“Pay attention, Pell. He wants me.”
MR. RED: I will answer your question in person. Give me your phone number.
HOTLOAD: You must be nuts.
MR. RED: I AM MR. RED! OF COURSE, I’M NUTS!
HOTLOAD: Don’t have a cow, John.
MR. RED: Don’t call me John. I am Mr. Red.
HOTLOAD: I still won’t give you my number. That is farther than I’m willing to go.
MR. RED: I’ve had more than a few fantasies about you going all the way, Carol Starkey.
HOTLOAD: Remember the ground rules, John. You get graphic, I’m gonna sign off and go take a cold shower.
MR. RED: What’s in it for you is … the truth.
HOTLOAD: The truth hurts.
MR. RED: The truth can also set you free.
She leaned back, letting it sit. She needed to think. She knew that they would have only one shot to bring him in; if he figured out what she was trying to do, her chance would be gone, and so would he.
Pell said, “Be weak.”
Starkey glanced over and found Pell watching her.
He said, “He’s male. If you want him, need him. Let him take care of you.”
“That isn’t me.”
“Pretend.”
She turned back to the keyboard.
HOTLOAD: I am afraid.
MR. RED: Of the truth?
HOTLOAD: You want to be in the Ten Most Wanted. I am afraid you will use me to get there.
MR. RED: There are things I want more than being on that list.
HOTLOAD: Like what?
MR. RED: I want to hear your voice, Carol Starkey. I want to have a conversation. Not like this. I want to see your expressions. I want to hear your inflections.
HOTLOAD: Do you see how weird this is? I am a police officer. You are Mr. Red.
MR. RED: We are both in Tennant’s book.
She didn’t respond.
MR. RED: We are the same.
She hesitated again. She knew what she wanted, but she could not suggest it. He had to suggest it. It had to be his idea or he would never go for it.
HOTLOAD: I will not give you my phone number.
MR. RED: Then I will give you a number.
HOTLOAD: I am laughing. If you give me a number, I will know your location.
MR. RED: Perhaps that is my idea. Perhaps I would like you to, ah, cum.
HOTLOAD: Don’t be crude.
MR. RED: Crude, but not stupid. Let us do this: Sign on to Claudius later today at exactly three P.M. I will be here. I will give you a phone number. If my phone doesn’t ring in fifteen seconds, I will leave, and you will never hear from me again. If you call, we will talk for exactly five minutes, and I will answer your question. No more than five minutes. I would like a longer conversation, but we both know what you’ll be doing.
HOTLOAD: Yes. I will be tracing the call.
MR. RED: Perhaps. But perhaps I can convince you that we were meant for better things.
HOTLOAD: Don’t count on it.
MR. RED: Fair enough. I will beat you at that, you know. You won’t catch me.
HOTLOAD: We’ll see.
“You’ve got him, Starkey.”
“Maybe.”
She had what she needed to go back to Kelso, but everything depended on Mr. Red. A large part of her was scared that if he signed off now, he would not return. He wo
uld not be there at three o’clock. She knew better than to type this, but something in her wanted to know. She told herself that if she brought him to this point, he would be hers. He would not vanish, he would not disappear. He would return to her, and she would catch him.
It was such an intimate thing that she felt embarrassed writing it in front of Pell.
HOTLOAD: When you’re having your fantasies of me, what do you think about?
He hesitated so long that she grew scared that he had gone. When his answer came, she regretted having asked.
MR. RED: Death.
Starkey did not reply. She signed off Claudius, then turned off the machine.
Pell was staring at her.
She said, “Stop looking at me like that. We’ve got a lot to do.”
Mr. Red
John Michael Fowles was parked less than two blocks up the street from Starkey’s house. He closed the iBook and smiled.
“DAMN, I’m good! I am so fucking good that somebody should tattoo ‘Mr. Irresistible’ on both cheeks of my ass.”
He pushed the iBook aside and patted the jar of Modex. He liked having it with him, the gray explosive in its jar like a big glob of toothpaste. It was better than having a goldfish. You didn’t have to feed it.
He waited until Starkey and Pell left, then drove back to his hotel to work on the new bomb. He was building a different kind of bomb this time, one just for Carol Starkey. He didn’t have much time.
21
• • •
Starkey wanted to manuever John Michael Fowles into revealing his location so that she could bag him. To do that, she needed phone traps in place in the event they spoke on a land line, and the cell companies standing by for a triangulation in the more likely event that his number linked to a cell phone. Once his position was fixed, she needed bodies to close the perimeter. Since the target was John Michael Fowles, AKA Mr. Red, she feared that he would have explosives on his person, which required a call-out from the Bomb Squad. All of this meant that she needed Kelso’s help.
She phoned Dick Leyton.
When he came on the line, he sounded distant, but concerned. She knew from his tone that he’d heard the news.
“Dick, I need your help.”
“I don’t know that I’m in a position to give it. I spoke with Barry. What in hell were you thinking, Carol?”
“Did Barry tell you that I was in contact with Mr. Red?”
“Of course, he told me. You’re in serious trouble because of this. Serious. I don’t think you’ll get off with just a suspension.”
“Dick, I know I’m in trouble. Please listen to me. I am still in contact with Mr. Red. I was just on-line with him.”
“Damnit, Carol, you’re only making it worse for yourself. You need to—”
Starkey interupted him.
“I know Barry fired me, I know that I’m not part of the team, but I can get this guy, Dick. I have a relationship with him whether Barry likes it or not, and we can use that to bag this mutt. I have him set up, Dick. I have the guy set up.”
Leyton didn’t say anything. She knew he was thinking, so she pressed ahead to convince him.
“At exactly three o’clock, he’s going to be on-line again. He’s going to give me a phone number to call. I will call it. Dick, I think I can arrange a face-to-face. If I can’t, maybe we can still trap the call. This is Mr. Red, for God’s sake, do you think we should walk away from an opportunity like this? Take me to Barry, Dick. Please.”
They spoke about it for another ten minutes, Leyton asking questions, Starkey answering. They both knew that Leyton would have to call Morgan. He needed to convince the A-chief before Kelso would go for it. They would also need Morgan’s horsepower to get everything set up in time. Starkey immediately regretted agreeing with Fowles to do this today; she kicked herself for not putting him off until tomorrow, but it was too late for that now. Leyton finally said that he would do it, telling Starkey to meet him at Spring Street by two o’clock.
When she hung up, she looked at Pell.
“You heard.”
“We’re on.”
“If Morgan goes for it, I would guess that he’s going to alert the ATF and the Feebs. They might be there.”
“They probably will. Those boys don’t like to sit out the dance.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t come.”
“I didn’t come this far to quit, Starkey.”
“Well, let’s go. You want to get something to eat?”
“I don’t think I could.”
“You want some Tagamet?”
Pell laughed.
She brought him back to the diner for his car, and then they went their separate ways.
* * *
Starkey put her car in the red zone outside Spring Street at five minutes before two, and went up with the second computer. Leyton was already present, as were Morgan and two of his Men in Black. Pell hadn’t yet arrived. Starkey found herself hoping that he would change his mind about coming. Kelso was outside his office with two suits who Starkey took to be federal agents. Marzik was talking up one of the Men in Black and ignored her.
Everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and looked at her.
Dick said, “Carol, why don’t we go into Barry’s office.” Starkey followed them into Kelso’s office, where Morgan nodded politely.
“Looks like you’re in some trouble, Detective.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, let’s see how this turns out.”
Kelso wasn’t happy about any of it, but he wasn’t stupid, either. He wanted Mr. Red, and if this was their best shot, he was game to take it. Three representatives from the phone company had set up a computer of their own, feeding into Barry’s phone jack.
Leyton said, “Carol, I sketched out our discussion both to Chief Morgan and to Lieutenant Kelso. They’re on board with this. The dispatch office is standing by with secure communication to the patrol division. SWAT has been alerted, and the Bomb Squad is, as always, ready to roll.”
Starkey nodded, smiling at the “as always.”
“All right.”
Secure communication meant that all directions to patrol units would be transmitted through the computers in the black and whites. No one wanted to use radio calls because those could be intercepted by the media and private citizens.
“Where do you want to do this?”
Kelso said, “Here in my office. Do you need anything special for the computer?”
“Just a phone line. I’ll use my cell phone to make the voice call.”
One of the Men in Black said, “Shouldn’t she use a hard line for the trap?”
One of the phone company people said, “Negative. He’s providing the number. We’ll work the address from that unless he’s on a cell. If he’s mobile, it doesn’t matter what she’s on.”
Kelso cleared his desk so that Starkey could set up the computer. She caught a glimpse of Pell out in the squad room, talking with the federal suits.
At ten minutes before three, Starkey was waiting to sign on with an audience crowded around her. Leyton came up behind her and rubbed her shoulders.
“We’ve still got a few minutes. Get a cup of coffee.”
Starkey left for the squad room, glad for the break. Pell was still with the two suits, but he wasn’t in handcuffs. She didn’t go for a cup of coffee. She went over to Pell.
“Are these people with the ATF?”
The shorter of the two introduced himself as Assistant Special Agent-in-Charge Wally Coombs and the taller as Special Agent Burton Armus, both of the Los Angeles field office.
“Is Mr. Pell under arrest?”
“Not at this time. We’d like to ask you a few questions about all this.”
“You’ll have to ask me later.”
“We understand that.”
“I will need Mr. Pell’s assistance in the other room.”
The two agents traded a look, then Coombs shrugged.
“Sure.”
>
Pell followed her back to Kelso’s, walking very close behind her.
“Thanks.”
At two fifty-nine, Starkey was again in front of the computer.
She said, “Are we ready?”
Morgan met the eyes of the section leaders and the phone company people. One of the phone people murmured something into his private line, and gave a thumbs-up. Morgan nodded at her.
“Go.”
Starkey opened the door into Claudius. Almost at once, the words appeared.
WILL YOU ACCEPT A MESSAGE FROM MR. RED?
Kelso said, “Jesus.”
Morgan frowned.
“No talking.”
When the window appeared, it wasn’t what any of them expected.
MR. RED: Sorry, babe. Changed my mind.
Kelso said, “Damnit!”
Morgan shushed him. He nodded to Starkey, encouraging.
“Play it as you would, Detective Starkey. You know what they say, shit happens.”
Starkey glanced up at him, and the Man in Black smiled.
Starkey typed.
HOTLOAD: You’re an asshole.
MR. RED: I have been thinking.
HOTLOAD: Don’t bruise yourself.
MR. RED: A conversation isn’t going to be enough for me. I am a man of LARGE appetites, if you catch my drift.
HOTLOAD: We had a deal.
MR. RED: Your point?
HOTLOAD: You said you would answer my question.
MR. RED: What I said was, I will answer your question in person. I will still do that.
HOTLOAD: I think you’re jerking me around. You know I won’t meet you. No way am I going to do that.
Kelso said, “Ah, Carol—”
Pell said, “She knows what she’s doing.”
MR. RED: Then you will never know why Buck Daggett died.
Starkey leaned back, waiting. She could feel Kelso, Leyton, and the others shifting behind her, and didn’t like it.
MR. RED: Meet me, Carol Starkey. I will not hurt you.
HOTLOAD: Where?
MR. RED: Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.
HOTLOAD: Where?
MR. RED: Echo Park. You know the big fountain.
