by G. K. Parks
“Parker, voice your destination ASAP. We’ll keep eyes on you as best we can,” Farrell relayed through the garage static. In the last twenty minutes, things became a lot more complicated.
Twenty-seven
Devereaux stopped at a bar across town, and we went inside to negotiate. It was a small, seedy hole in the wall, and I read the name aloud as soon as he parked. There was no way of knowing how many guys might be working for him or the Camel, and I didn’t need to take any additional risks.
He took a seat in the back corner, strategically located near an emergency exit, and kept his back to the wall. I sat across from him, not liking it, but hoping federal agents were watching my back for me. We both ordered drinks as soon as a waitress appeared, neither of us looking at her. Devereaux was focused on his surroundings, and I was focused on him.
“Where’s the car?” he asked.
“Close enough.” I cocked an eyebrow. “What happened to your team? Are they gunning for you? And how can you be sure that your buyer is still solid?”
“Listen to me,” he sneered, “your boyfriend was a goddamn rat. A snitch. A mole. Whatever term you prefer, and my associate is handling that situation.” I swallowed, pretending to be surprised by the news.
“No way.”
“Believe what you want, Riley, but think about it.”
I gulped and looked around the room. Make it believable, Parker. “Jesus.” I forced him to meet my eyes. “But I saw him in lockup.”
“The authorities are tricky, but I’ve handled the situation.”
“But he called.” I shook my head, still in disbelief. “He said he would get me a better deal.” Devereaux waved away my protest and clammed up on the other details. It didn’t matter. Ryan was safe, and Chase wasn’t the wiser. “What about Mallick? Is he another cop?”
He snorted. “No. He’s cleaning up the mess Hoyt left behind.” So maybe he didn’t know that Mallick was missing, arrested, and in custody, thanks in part to yours truly. “Are you satisfied? Can we get back to business?”
“Almost. Tell me about the buyer.”
“It’s a name on a list. Barlow’s been in this business a long time. I’ve reached out to most of our clients since my boss is currently detained. We need to cut our losses and move on until we can regroup.” He looked suspicious again, and his eyes settled on me. “I want to see the merchandise before we discuss this any further.”
“Oh my god, are you seriously that paranoid? An hour ago, someone was shooting at us.”
His eyes narrowed further, back to tiny slits. “And how do I know they aren’t working for you? Who the hell has time to react that quickly?” A bitter sneer appeared. “Why would you risk your own neck to save me? As far as I can tell, you can’t stand me.” Then he smiled. “There is no other buyer. You need me just as much as I need you.”
“What was delivered before they started firing?” I shot back, not liking the way his wheels were spinning.
He paled, and I contemplated the possibility that the Camel was behind the shooting. But it spoke volumes against his M.O. Shit, now what was going on? “Fine, they weren’t working for you. Take me to the car, I’ll check it myself, and afterward, we’ll meet with my buyer. You’ll get your cut. I’ll get mine, and this will all be over.”
“Not so fast.”
“No,” he snarled, “I’ve had enough of you. If I don’t see the merchandise in the next hour, all your concerns will be pointless because I’ll kill you myself.” He stood from the table. “Let’s go.” He grabbed my arm and dragged me to my feet. Pushing me in front of him and poking the muzzle of his gun into my back just to prove what an asshole he was. As if I hadn’t read and reread that memo countless times by now.
“Fine, I’ll take you to see the car. It’s in an abandoned garage near the wharf.” Hopefully, the OIO still used the same property to conduct sting operations because I didn’t actually have a car stashed anywhere. “The place is hard to find, so I’ll have to give you directions. It’s like meandering through a fruit salad, trying to find a grape.” There was the codeword; now with any luck, the troops would rally at the proper location.
“Intercept?” Farrell asked in my ear.
“It better be there,” Chase muttered, unlocking the doors and making sure I got inside.
“No, it’ll be waiting for us. I’m sure of it.” Farrell had his response, and Devereaux wasn’t the wiser.
“We’ll set up. Delay as long as you can. We’re pulling eyes off of you to reroute,” Farrell replied before I heard another burst of static.
Rambling directions that took us in a large loop throughout the city, thirty minutes in, Devereaux was annoyed and clearly didn’t trust me. He pulled up to some abandoned storefronts that at one point used to house a garage and a warehouse. It was pitch-black outside, almost midnight, and with the limited visibility from lack of lights, I didn’t know if the agents were on site or not. Even stalling, we still arrived thirty minutes sooner than I expected.
“Where is it?”
“It should be over there.” I indicated one of the locked and latched doors, and he tossed me a look.
“Open it.”
“Hate to break it to you, Chase, but I left the keys in my car at your hotel.” Stalling wasn’t my strong suit, but I would find a way to make do.
He unholstered the .32 and pointed it at me. “I said open it.”
“Abra-fucking-cadabra.” I glared at him. “What do you know, it didn’t open. If you give me a minute, I’ll pick it.” He gave a sideways nod at the door, and I pulled a set of lock picks out of my purse. “Are you in position?” I whispered, hoping he didn’t hear me since I was turned away from him.
“Parker, I’m five minutes out. Interpol hit a snafu, and my team was scattered on the house and our newest crime scene. I’ll be there in five,” Mark replied.
“Great,” I growled, spinning to face Chase. “Y’know, this would go a whole lot faster if I had some light.” His eyes darted to my back, assuming he could subdue me easily enough without a loaded weapon, and produced a cell phone, using it to illuminate the otherwise darkened lock. “Thanks.” Taking my time, I popped the lock two minutes later, blaming the dark for the delay.
“After you.”
Before he could touch me again, I faced him. “Don’t even think about it.”
“How’d that happen?” he asked, bemused.
“Hoyt likes it rough,” I said, my tone scathing, “which makes your bullshit story about him being a cop seem even less likely.” I was trying to sow the seeds of distrust within his paranoid psyche, but there was no way of knowing how much he believed. “I hope you made that pig suffer.” The rage bubbled to the surface, and I wanted nothing more than to make Devereaux pay for the hell he’d put Ryan through.
“Absolutely.” He said it with such certainty, I thought my teeth would break because my jaw clenched so tightly.
“Good,” I put on a fake smile, “in that case, step inside and check out the merchandise.”
He gestured me forward, and I walked into the completely dark garage. I didn’t hit the light switch, needing as much time as possible, and he followed, feeling along the walls. When the light clicked on, there was no car. The single hanging bulb did little to illuminate the garage, but the area was empty.
“Where the hell is it?” he asked, gun out and poised. Before he leveled his, mine was aimed at his chest. “Is this a double cross?”
“You tell me. It was here the last time I checked.” I paused dramatically as if a thought just hit me. “Hoyt came here. He must have taken it, moved it, or whatever it is cops do.” Narrowing my eyes, I used the only play in the book. “You’re one of them, aren’t you? The next thing I know, this place will be swarming with police, complete with sirens and flashing lights.” On cue, Mark hit the siren and lights on his SUV. At least back-up arrived.
Devereaux panicked, stepping backward toward a secondary door. “What the hell is this, Riley?”
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“You tell me.” My eyes remained focused on him. “Are you setting me up?”
“No,” he shook his head, frantic and evaluating his options, “this is because of you. The shooter at the hotel, insisting I come to some remote location, forcing yourself on me. No.” He kept shaking his head, obviously rattled.
“I didn’t force myself on you. You were the one expecting a freaking blowjob when I knocked on your door earlier.” My eyes narrowed further. He had to trust me and open up or else we’d have to do things the hard way. “No, this isn’t me. This is one of those cops you were working with.”
“I wasn’t working with the cops.”
“Hoyt,” I screamed at him. “You said he was a cop.” He stepped closer to the back door, and I took a tentative step forward. Our guns were still drawn, pointed at each other. “We have to get out of here.”
“Parker?” Mark was in my ear. “Do I breach?”
“We need a moment to devise a game plan. An escape route. Running out the back door won’t solve anything,” I replied.
“Affirmative, I’ll cover the rear,” Jablonsky answered.
“Stay away from me, bitch,” Devereaux inhaled and glanced around the empty garage. “Everything was manageable until you showed up.” His gun didn’t waver, and neither did his grip. But with his free hand, he reached into his pocket and dialed a number. Holding the cell to his ear, he waited, but whoever he was calling wasn’t answering. I took another step forward, and he dropped the phone into his pocket. “Something’s not right.”
“Yeah, the cops are outside. That might be part of the problem. We need to get out of here. Now.”
He smirked, reversing his retreat. “Actually, the odds are better if I’m alone.” He made it to the wall and flipped off the lights, plunging us into darkness. In the dark, I could barely tell he was in front of me, gun still aimed.
“Don’t do this,” I commanded, rapidly blinking in an attempt to force my eyes to adjust to the lack of light.
Somehow, I caught the slightest movement as he steadied the gun with both hands, and I fired. His shot ripped into the cinderblock immediately to my right, and my bullet made contact with some part of his upper torso, but it didn’t slow him down. Instead, he ran for the front door.
“Mark, he’s going out the front,” I yelled.
Racing to the door, I fired again, but it hit the doorjamb, narrowly missing my target. I heard two more shots, wondering who was firing. Normally, I was a better shot, but it was dark. I exited the garage. Devereaux’s door slammed shut, and the vehicle was already in motion.
Jablonsky came up from the side, and we both fired at the Jeep as the tires spun, shooting gravel into the air before launching itself forward onto the main road. He was on the radio, calling in a description and location while the two of us hauled ass to his SUV to pursue.
“Forget it,” I stopped halfway inside the vehicle. “He took out your back tires. Farrell, he’s all yours.” Yanking the earpiece and microphone free, I was tired of having voices in my head.
Mark let out a string of expletives, collected himself, called in a BOLO on the vehicle and Devereaux, alerted the teams sitting on the house, the hotel, and my apartment, and then came around to the passenger’s side of the SUV. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah.” I squeezed the bridge of my nose. “I winged him. We should alert hospitals, clinics, and the like to be on the lookout for a GSW to the upper torso.”
“Okay.” He passed along the new information and leaned against the rear door. “You used to be better at this.” He bumped my shoulder and offered a teasing smile.
“Excuse me for being rusty,” I griped. “I wasn’t expecting our op to get derailed by the Camel attempting to execute our only lead.” He met my eyes, looking bewildered. “The concierge delivered some car part. A piston maybe. And then the bastard opened fire from the neighboring rooftop. I’ve been making it up ever since.” I kicked my heel into the side bumper. “Dammit. Our best bet of finding the killer just got away.”
“We have a team on the hotel, another one working the adjacent roof, and tactical is still set up on the house where you found Ryan. We’ll locate our asset. That’s not even an issue.”
I nodded. “Good.”
“Alex,” this was the first time we had a moment of privacy since Friday afternoon before the shit hit the fan, “Donough’s alive because of you. What are you still doing on this case?”
“Trying to make sure rescuing him doesn’t result in a contract killer escaping.” He snorted at my words. “It’s not funny, Mark. It’s the truth. Maybe pulling Donough out and having such a close call with Mallick wasn’t the best way to ensure Interpol’s goal was achieved, but I won’t apologize for rescuing Ryan. This is just my attempt to bring a fire extinguisher to the blaze. I’ll help end this any way I can.”
“I know you will.” He gave me a genuine smile. “C’mon, we might as well sit in the car while we wait for someone to pick us up.” He held the passenger’s side door for me. “Plus, it’ll give us a chance to have a proper debrief away from the prying ears of Interpol and the local PD.”
Twenty-eight
“Five fractured ribs and a bruised spine,” Mark read my medical report as we waited outside for the doctors to discharge Ryan Donough. After explaining everything that happened two days ago and the way Devereaux inadvertently brought me to my knees in the elevator, it seemed a checkup was in order. Plus, federal agent credentials tended to shorten the wait times for ER visits. “And somehow, this translates into volunteering to go undercover for Interpol.” He gave me that bothersome disappointed look again. “How the hell are you even standing, much less chasing after a suspect and dodging bullets?”
“I feel fine.”
“Yeah,” he frowned, “you’ll have to spell out what that word means one of these days. Although, by now, I should realize when you say you’re fine, you’re anything but fine.”
Rolling my eyes, I sat sideways in the SUV, glad to be out of the hospital and away from the x-ray techs. Any more pictures and I’d glow in the dark. A group of federal agents escorted Ryan to the front of the building. They glanced at us, and Jablonsky flashed his credentials and handed one of them the official paperwork. Then Ryan clambered into the back seat.
“Alex,” he smiled, the relief evident on his face, “merci.” I snorted, and he corrected himself, remembering my insistence to speak English. “Thanks. By the end of this, I’ll have no idea how to pay back all the things you’ve done for me.”
“No need.” I shifted my focus to Mark. “Where to, boss?”
“Funny.” He rolled his eyes. “How are you feeling, Inspector?” Ryan didn’t say a word, and I turned to assess him. “All right, boys and girls, we’ll camp out at the OIO building, get an update on everything still in the works, and then we’ll figure out where you’re staying for the time being,” he said to Ryan. “You,” he shot a look in my direction before pulling into traffic, “need to be officially debriefed. Then I’ll find someone to give you a ride to Marty’s and keep a detail on you, just in case Devereaux feels particularly ambitious about tracking you.” Before I could protest, he added. “You’ve been up for twenty-four hours. When we’re done, you can recharge and then get back to work.”
* * *
Jablonsky’s brilliant plan didn’t go exactly the way he intended. By early evening, he returned to his office and coughed loudly. I lifted my head off the rolled up jacket I was using as a pillow and looked at him expectantly.
“Didn’t I order someone to give you a ride home?” he asked.
“They were busy.” I dropped my head back to the desk and inhaled carefully. “Truth?”
“That would be a nice change of pace, Alex.”
“This is probably the most comfortable position I’ve found in days.” Giving up on the possibility of napping any longer, I sat upright and met his eyes.
“Being back inside this building with countless federal a
gents for protection or sleeping at my desk?” He sat across from me and spun the computer monitor and keyboard around.
“Honestly, both.” I moved to stand, but he held his hand up to stop me. “Where’s Donough?”
“Farrell put him in a different hotel and assigned a team to keep him constant company.” He stopped typing. “He’s safe. No one can get near him. Tomorrow morning, he’s back on the job. We got the go-ahead to override medical advice, and we plan to interrogate Mr. Mallick first thing in the morning. Assuming nothing shakes loose, I’d be willing to let Donough take a crack at him.” He met my eyes, seeing the fury there. “Hell, if you behave, I’ll let you take a crack at him, figuratively speaking.”
“You’re no fun.” I smirked. “It’s not like I’m on the job. Assaulting a prisoner doesn’t violate any statutes or laws, at least not if I do it.”
“Regardless, that’s not you.”
“I’ve done it before.”
“And you’ve hated yourself for it.” He glanced out the window into the main room where a few agents were still hard at work. I followed his gaze to my old desk, then to Michael Carver’s old desk, and lastly to Sam Boyle’s office. “Alexis,” he hesitated, “a lot’s changed around here in the last two years.”
“So have I.”
He shook his head. “C’mon, neither of us is any good here. Let’s get a drink, and I’ll take you home.”
“You mean I actually get to go home?”
“No.” He chuckled and shrugged into his jacket. “Marty called earlier and is expecting you. At least you have somewhere else to stay, besides on my couch.”
I waited for him to log off his computer, finish filing today’s paperwork, and then we went downstairs. The OIO building always made me uneasy, but I knew what Mark wanted to talk about tonight. Even though the case wasn’t over yet, it was time we had this discussion. I avoided it for two years, but there was no hiding anymore.
