by G. K. Parks
Twenty
The two homicide victims also drove Audis. They were frat brothers that owned the same model vehicle. It was also the same model of parts that were found with the remains. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Maybe it was the Camel’s calling card or verification that the job was completed.
“What about all the other murders? Do we know if the victims were left with random cars or automotive parts nearby?” I posed the question, even though O’Connell didn’t have an answer.
“I don’t know.” He picked up his phone. “I’ll pass it along to Heathcliff and see what he can run down. They aren’t our files, and whatever copies we’ve been granted access to are at the precinct. He can check when he has some downtime. With any luck, it’ll be a quiet night.”
I wanted to look myself, but it was after midnight. I had already been thrown out of the police station once, and repeating the process wouldn’t help matters. I pulled my legs up on my rolling office chair and sat sideways, leaning my cheek against the backrest. After O’Connell hung up, I let out a yawn. “What else can you tell me?”
“Gregson and Claxton barely said anything helpful. Barlow kept his mouth shut too. We’re working on the double homicide and the stolen vehicles and trying to find the drugs, but there’s not much to go on.”
“What about my place?”
“We swept it. Minimal prints, no bugs, no blood, no signs of a struggle. With the exception of the water bottle, there was no evidence Ryan Donough was ever in your apartment, and there’s no indication anyone else was either, well besides the two of us and Martin.
“Jablonsky said there’s surveillance feed indicating two men waited until I left before going inside my building. They tracked Ryan from the OIO all the way to my place. I’d say they dosed Ryan’s water when he wasn’t paying attention, waited for him to drink, and carried him out, wrapped inside the blanket that was on my couch. So he must have known who they were.” Nick studied me, knowing I knew who they were too. “Virgil Mallick and Chase Devereaux.”
“The two men you met on Thursday?”
“Yep.” I shut my eyes and slumped further in the chair. “We need to put eyes on them, monitor their movements, and hope they lead to Ryan, but Jablonsky insists Interpol has it under control,” I growled. “His cover was blown. They followed him out of the OIO building. They must know he’s Interpol, and the only reason I’m not knocking down their door is the fear they’ll kill him faster. Farrell, the Interpol liaison, is supposed to be tracking them and searching for Ryan, but who knows what’s really going on. Interpol already screwed Ryan over once when his partner was murdered. They’re probably doing it again.”
“We protect our own. I can almost guarantee their doing what they say, but I’ll make a couple of calls to see what I can dig up. Then maybe we should call it a night.”
“We’re running out of time, and I’m useless.”
“You’re not useless,” he winked, “not completely. Face it, the best investigators you know are working this. We’ll get to the bottom of it.” He began making calls, and I let the white noise shut out my fear and dread.
The phone rang, and I jumped. O’Connell was sitting behind my desk, running information on the computer and answering calls. I looked around the room, trying to figure out exactly when the sun came up and how I missed it.
“Morning,” he offered. “Obviously, you’re still not at a hundred percent because the Alex Parker I know doesn’t fall asleep in the middle of an investigation.” He smirked, appearing to be in a much cheerier mood than normal. “I phoned Martin so he wouldn’t flip out. You’re welcome.” I nodded. “Be thankful I have today off, and Heathcliff and Thompson have made some major progress in the last six hours. If not, I’d be pissed for working through the night while you caught up on your beauty sleep. We’ve gone through all the ICC and Interpol files, and each of the Camel’s victims was discovered in either stolen vehicles or with some kind of car part in the vicinity. It’s the connection to Barlow that they’ve been missing all along. Frankly, I don’t know how they missed it.”
I sat up, and my back popped painfully. “They weren’t worried about auto thefts.”
“Still, don’t they train these Europeans better?” He went to my coffeepot, pouring a cup of cold coffee. “I’ll admit it’s not much, but it’s more than what we had last night.”
“The six additions to Barlow’s wish list means six more hits.” He put the cold coffee on the desk in front of me, and I took a sip. “Wait,” my brain pinged on something, “the American muscle car I stole, those are hard to find. If we can identify owners with similar vehicles, then we might be able to identify the next victim. We might be able to stop the Camel before he kills again.”
“Precisely.” Smiling, he clicked a few keys. “I’m running vehicle registrations. Can you get a list of any recent thefts from Auto Protection Services and pass it along, just in case?”
“Yeah, I’ll try.” Just as I reached for my desk phone, my cell rang from inside my purse. Getting stiffly out of the chair, I noticed the blocked name on the caller ID. “Hello?”
“Alexandra,” the familiar Irish brogue sounded hoarse and weak, “I’m sorry I left without a goodbye.”
“Ryan,” I exclaimed, grabbing a pen and scribbling ‘trace’ on the sheet of paper before shoving it at O’Connell, “where’d you go, babe? I’ve been looking all over for you. How are you?”
“I had some things to take care of. I’m gonna be busy, so you probably won’t see me before the exchange.” From his tone, they were forcing him to make the call. Nick stepped to the back of my office, giving his badge number and requesting an immediate trace. “Remember, we’re doing it Wednesday morning. If I’m otherwise detained, Chase will finalize the deal. Just make sure you deliver.”
“Are you okay? You sound strange.” They were listening, and I had to remain in character, but I needed to keep the conversation going as long as possible.
“When did you become such a bloody hen? Everything’s fine. It’s early, and I’m busy.”
“Yeah, well, so am I. I have a day job, and searching through patient files can be tedious. So I don’t have time for some asshole to just disappear from my apartment out of the blue. Did you meet some other bird? Maybe one of those skanks from the strip club?” I tried to sound angry, like I had no idea what was really going on, but the tormented sound of his voice was breaking me. Hopefully, he’d understand we were searching for him and give us some clues where to look.
“No strippers. Just business with the guys.” Okay, so Chase and Virgil took him. That was progress. “Alex, you and I both know this was just a way to kill time. We were having a fling until the deal was finalized. Hell, it’s not every day I find a talented car thief as sexy as you. And my god, you were good in the sack.” My cover was intact, and he was making sure it stayed that way. “You bloody delivered on that one. Now don’t forget to deliver on the car or my partners will be very disappointed.”
“Ryan,” I said sharply, knowing they were seconds away from disconnecting us, “you made a promise, and I’m holding you to it. Do you understand me?” I swallowed, forcing the tremor out of my voice. He promised he wouldn’t die, and I needed him to assure me we had more time to find him.
“I’ll do my best, but I don’t know if Chase will go for another three percent.” The call ended before he could say another word.
“Chase Devereaux has him. That son of a bitch has Ryan. Tell me we have a location.”
“I don’t know,” O’Connell was still on the phone, awaiting verification, “but at least he’s alive.”
Rubbing my face, I paced the room. Three percent. Did that mean something, or did Ryan just come up with something feasible to use as a cover story? He had been gone since Friday night. It was Monday. Maybe he just regained consciousness. I knew I was sensitive to drugs and medications, and thankfully, I vomited up most of what I ingested, but it had been a rough two days. Maybe they kept him doped
up until they could figure out what to do with him.
Temporarily veering off course, I thought about Martin’s blue sports car and the alleged vehicle I was supposed to be delivering on Wednesday. They must be using the car thefts to finance their operation in between supplying a hitman with his calling card.
“Holy shit, the Camel must be one of their buyers.”
“Seriously?” O’Connell asked, tapping his pen impatiently.
“He’s probably not on their crew, but he’s been using them to get whatever he needs to verify his kill. It would explain why they travel to the same countries around the same time bodies surfaced. Like Ryan said, they never found anything solid linking Barlow to the Camel.”
“Call Jablonsky, tell him everything you know and everything that just happened. We’ll take another run at Barlow, and we won’t stop until he gives us an identity.” I picked up the phone to dial. “Hey, this is good. It means the Camel doesn’t have Donough.”
“No, but two other sickos do.” As I filled in Mark on everything that just transpired, Nick shook his head and fought the urge to throw his phone across the room, instead crushing the rectangular object in the palm of his hand. We didn’t get a location. Goddammit. “We don’t know where they’ve taken him,” I said over the phone, and O’Connell verified with a nod. “But Riley’s still in play. Ryan kept her cover identity intact, so either it was to protect me or give us a method of getting him out.”
“Looks like you’re back again,” Mark said, less than pleased. “Why don’t you and O’Connell head to the precinct and update the brass. They established a task force for tracking the Camel. I’ll grab a hold of Farrell, and we’ll meet you there. With any luck, we’ll figure out a way to break Reginald Barlow.”
“Oh, I’m sure I can come up with some creative ideas,” I snarled. “And make sure you get all the surveillance and locations on Chase Devereaux and Virgil Mallick. They have Ryan, and we need to figure out where they are holding him.” I disconnected, feeling like I was splintering in a million directions.
“C’mon,” O’Connell insisted, “you can call APS from the road.” I locked my office and followed him to the car. “How are you holding up?” he asked, watching as I fidgeted with the seatbelt, my phone, and everything else.
“I’m fine.” After hanging up with Islind, the records were being sent to the precinct for further analysis. “I just wish we had more time.” The adrenaline kick-started my morning more than any cup of coffee ever could. “Ryan said three percent, and I can’t figure out if it was just something to say or if it means something.”
“Three percent?” O’Connell asked, zooming through traffic and hitting the siren periodically in order to avoid stopping for red lights. I gave him the context from the Thursday night meeting with Devereaux to compare to what Ryan said on the phone today. “Could there be three guys? Or maybe he meant three days. He’s been missing for three days. Or maybe he was just saying something to make sure you didn’t blow your own cover. Hell, they know he’s Interpol, and you were talking about promises. Maybe they thought he was pulling a Grenauldo and promised to take you away from the life. It might have been nothing, but I don’t know.”
“We should have devised some kind of codeword.” I thought back to our Thursday encounter. We devised signals for that night in case things went south but nothing in regards to three percent. “If it didn’t mean anything, why did they disconnect so quickly?”
“You’re overanalyzing.”
“Fine.” A plan was formulating in my mind. There was a decent chance it would be dismissed as too risky, but it might just work. “Nick, before this all goes super official, I want to run a theory by you, but let’s just keep this between the two of us.”
“I already don’t like it.” He glanced at me, waiting for whatever stupid thing I was about to say.
“If my cover is solid, I could show up at their hotel suite. Maybe I want to renegotiate the deal. After all, Ryan promised me another three percent.”
“And for your trouble, you could end up joining him.”
“But we might get eyes on the situation. There could be records linking to the Camel, and more importantly, there could be something that will lead to Ryan, a key to a storage unit or a receipt from a parking garage or who the hell knows, but the only way we’ll find out is if I go in.”
“You’re insane.” Which was probably true, but he didn’t say I shouldn’t do it. He probably didn’t have a better suggestion. The only problem was there would be no support or back-up. He pulled into his normal parking space and shut the engine. “For once in your life, let’s do this by the book. We go inside, and you act like a cooperating asset. You divulge everything you know to anyone who asks, and you let those of us with badges make some judgment calls.”
“I thought Moretti didn’t want me lurking around his house.”
“Maybe that was an exaggeration. He can’t afford you.”
“Well, it’s about time I did some charity work, don’t you think?”
He grasped my forearm and stared into my eyes. “Are you up for this? I want the truth.”
“I’m good to go.” He nodded, knowing that I spent the night asleep in my office chair while he worked. “Are you ready for this?”
“Who needs a day off anyway?” he retorted, releasing my arm and opening the door. “But Heathcliff and Thompson will be pissed they have to pull doubles.”
“Well then, we better make sure it’s not in vain.”
Twenty-one
“They haven’t taken him back to the hotel,” Farrell stated after we finished going over all the recent developments. “The surveillance hasn’t picked up anything of interest either, but if Donough’s been exposed, they’re probably too cautious to speak openly.”
“At least we have solid leads on the Camel,” Moretti declared, shifting gears. “I don’t know how you people could have missed this for the past year.” He sounded exasperated, but none of us knew exactly how gruesome the European crime scenes were or how obvious the evidence was. “Hell, you keep my guys in the dark, and we’re the ones solving this damn case for you.”
“Parker helped,” I chimed in, referring to myself in the third person. Jablonsky sighed, and O’Connell rolled his eyes. “Look, I know everyone has been completely opposed to my assistance, but Ryan’s still out there. Your focus has to be on getting a contract killer off the streets, and mine’s on bringing Donough back alive. Face it,” I looked at Moretti, “you could use an extra set of eyes on this.”
“You’re right,” he grudgingly agreed.
“Yeah, except Friday night you accidentally dosed yourself,” Mark added. “You’re being reckless.”
“I am not.” We were still arguing. “It was a water bottle in my empty apartment. It could have happened to anyone. I’m fine now.” I turned to Farrell. “You cleared me to assist Donough with the meet on Thursday. My cover’s intact. There’s a good chance I’m the only one who can get inside without raising suspicion.”
“When are you scheduled to meet?” Moretti interjected, knowing our federal agent brethren weren’t pleased I became a turncoat by allying myself with the local police.
“Wednesday morning, I’m supposed to deliver a stolen car.” I shook my head. “Wednesday’s too late. Does anyone have any idea how long the Camel normally keeps his victims before they die?”
“The Camel doesn’t have Donough,” O’Connell pointed out. “You said so yourself. Chase Devereaux has him.”
“And they aren’t one and the same,” Farrell added.
“I know that,” I hissed. “But the cocktail I drank and that Donough probably drank is the same one the Camel uses, isn’t it?” No one could disprove my theory. “That means two things. First, Devereaux has definitely been in contact with our serial killer, and second, he must be taking pointers from a professional.”
“All right,” Mark took control like he usually did, “Interpol’s main focus is still identifying and
apprehending the Camel.” He met my eyes, giving his silent acquiescence. “The FBI and OIO are supporting them. An international hitman is federal jurisdiction. When we nail this son of a bitch, there will be issues of extradition, international laws, et cetera, et cetera. So,” he turned to Moretti, “Dominic, your guys are free to work on the car thefts, finding Donough, and if it comes down to it, apprehending Mallick and Devereaux. If they lead to our killer, it’s your collar but know that you’ll lose jurisdiction after processing.”
“Like I give a shit,” Moretti growled.
“Parker’s yours for now,” Mark added, which made me feel like property, and I glowered at him. “Good luck.” Farrell and Mark collected the pertinent files and headed for the exit. “We’ll work Barlow over for answers. We need locations and buyers. With any luck, it’ll lead to the Camel and Donough. Alex, you’ll find him, and if not, we will.” He tossed me a reassuring nod over his shoulder.
“Lieutenant, am I allowed to consult?” I asked. “This is personal.”
“Guess we could use the help.” He looked around the room at the small group of detectives gathered in his office. “O’Connell, Heathcliff, and Thompson are okay working with you. But after you were instrumental in cleaning house a few months back, some of the other guys aren’t happy to see you skulking around. Just watch yourself and try not to make any more enemies.”
“I’ll do my best,” I shut my eyes briefly, “since my friends might be dwindling.”
* * *
I slipped my nine millimeter into my shoulder holster and tucked my back-up in the bottom drawer of Nick’s desk. We went over the facts again and again. It was the same information Nick and I already discussed this morning. In addition, APS sent over files on two more recent thefts which Thompson was in the process of tracking. Frankly, I had no place in this investigation, and I never really did.
