by Simon Wood
Matt snatched the phone away. “No way.”
Robinson broke down. Matt examined the phone. He wasn’t too up on these things, but it looked to be the latest in cell phone technology.
“Does this thing have a video camera on it?”
Robinson palmed away his tears. “Yes.”
Matt punched in a number and waited for an answer. “It’s me. I’m going through with it. I’ll be at the warehouse as arranged.”
Matt hung up.
Robinson looked at him with questioning fear. “There’ll be others?”
“Don’t look so worried. This’ll all be over soon.”
Matt parked in front of the derelict warehouse Harry and Stein had taken him to the night before. He pulled Robinson out of the car and shoved him toward the corner of the building. He ignored the slowing sedan across the street.
He led Robinson inside the building and into a large room with a single entrance and high windows, reducing the means for escape to an impossibility. He stopped Robinson by a desk with a leg missing.
“Show me how to record a message.”
Robinson showed Matt. Matt recorded two video messages of Robinson, one for his family and the other a confession for the hit-and-run.
“I’ll send these when it’s all over.”
“Thank you.”
Up until this point, there’d been a pleading element to Robinson. Everything from his posture to his expression expressed a thin hope that Matt wouldn’t go through with the execution—but not anymore. He knew these were his last moments on earth.
“Facedown, please.” Matt pointed to a spot on the ground next to the listing desk.
Robinson did as he was told and lay in the dirt and rubble without complaint.
“I’m sorry to put you through this, but it should be all over soon.”
Matt waited for a response, but Robinson said nothing.
Matt took a breath, aimed, and fired the gun twice.
With the reports still bouncing off the walls, the Taskmasters, in uniform, poured in through the single entrance with guns drawn and spread out until they each had Matt in their sights.
“Drop the gun,” Harry shouted.
Matt dropped the gun and raised his hands. “I figured this would come next; as soon as I knew the Taskmasters were cops, it made sense. You needed a patsy to take the fall. What happens now? You shoot me and pin it all on me?”
“I’m afraid so, kid,” Harry said. “You’re just a punk kid, a loser, who’s going to pay for our cleanup. I hate to do it you, but it’s for the greater good.”
“It’s a little too late to get smart,” Tripplehorn said.
“Maybe not.” Matt nodded at the cell phone. “That’s one of those cell phones with the video camera built in. It’s recording right now.”
Chalmers cursed and shot the phone off the table.
“There’s still the problem of the murder you just committed,” Harry said. “You’re still a killer.”
“No, I’m an innocent man. And I have a witness.”
Robinson rose awkwardly to his feet, looking dazed and confused. He stared at the two bullet holes in the ground to the right of his head.
“We’ll just have to do it the old-fashioned way,” Stein snarled, and made for Matt’s gun on the ground.
“Hold it right there,” a voice barked.
The Taskmasters froze as men wearing FBI windbreakers stormed the room. The Taskmasters surrendered, and the agents relieved them of their weapons. The Taskmasters cursed Matt, except for Harry, who just smiled.
Matt walked up to Harry. “You kept a tail on me to keep me from leaving, but you couldn’t stop me from using the phone. I’ve been talking to some friends.”
“I underestimated you,” Harry said as a deputy cuffed him.
Matt grinned. He’d underestimated himself. “You said you’d make me a better man.”
“Enjoy this moment.” Harry leaned forward and whispered in Matt’s ear. “Smile while you can. Do you honestly think we’re the only Taskmasters inside the SPD?”
Harry winked at Matt as the deputy hauled him away. “You’ve still got a lot of work ahead of you, son.”
FOR MEDICINAL PURPOSES ONLY
Janet sat on the corner of Gill’s desk and asked, “Can I ask you a personal question?”
Gill swiveled her chair around to face her favorite coworker. From the look on Janet’s face and the way she kept peering over the cubical walls to ensure she wasn’t being overheard, this wasn’t just going to be one of those frivolous questions to blow off time from the day’s work.
“Sure. Ask away.”
“What I’m about to ask, you can’t mention to anyone. Okay?”
A ripple of concern ran through Gill. She’d never seen Janet so unnerved. She couldn’t imagine what Janet could ask her that would demand so much secrecy.
“Fine. Your secret is safe with me.”
“It’s not a secret, just a question.”
Janet was never pedantic. This ratcheted up the seriousness of the question being posed. Gill straightened in her seat, as if good posture qualified her for this situation.
“No problem, Janet. If I can answer, I will. If I can’t, I won’t. Either way, it won’t go any further. Okay?”
Janet nodded. She gave the cube farm one final check then leaned in close. Gill leaned in too.
“Can you get me any marijuana?”
Gill stifled a giggle. Janet wasn’t a prude or repressed or anything, but the question was just a total surprise. The last thing she expected to be asked was if she could hook Janet up with some weed. The question seemed so silly coming from a respectable career woman, especially since they both worked in the drug-development division of Sandown Pharmaceuticals.
What helped kill Gill’s giggle was the realization Janet was asking her. Did Janet think she was a drug dealer in her off hours? Did her persona give off a certain je ne sais quoi that made Janet think she was a pothead? It was one of those questions where you didn’t know whether to be flattered or insulted. In truth, Gill had smoked a little in college, but she’d never made a habit of it. For whatever reason, pot failed to make her silly or ravenous. It just put her to sleep. Its only value to her was as a cure for insomnia, which was an affliction she never suffered from. Needless to say, she hadn’t smoked a joint in a decade.
“I’ve offended you, haven’t I?” Janet lamented.
“No. Not at all. You just threw me. I don’t have any, and to be honest, I don’t have access to any.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No, honestly, it’s okay.”
Janet looked as if the emotional weight of this request were splitting her in two. She definitely wasn’t just trying to score some pot for a little weekend fun, but Gill had no idea what was going on.
Gill stood and slipped an arm around Janet’s shoulders. “Let’s take this outside.”
Gill withheld her curiosity until they got outside. To ensure no one would eavesdrop, they wandered the far recesses of the east parking lot.
“Why do you want marijuana, Janet?”
“I don’t. It’s not for me. It’s for a friend.”
Gill didn’t think much of Janet’s friend. She wouldn’t put any of her friends in such a risky position. Janet had gotten lucky asking her. She could have gotten herself into a real mess if she had asked the wrong person.
“Why doesn’t your friend get their own pot?”
“She doesn’t know I’m asking.”
“What do you mean?”
“You remember my friend Melinda, from Arizona?”
Gill nodded, having some vague recollection.
“Well, she has cancer.”
“Oh, God, Janet. That’s terrible!” Gill pulled Janet close to her as tears welled behind Janet’s glasses.
“It’s in the final stages. The chemo isn’t working and she doesn’t have long—a couple of months at the most, according to the doctors. She�
�s, she’s in a lot of pain,” Janet managed.
“Can’t the doctors give her anything?”
“Of course. She’s up to her eyes in pills and potions, but none of it really kills the pain. I just thought marijuana might make her more comfortable, you know, or possibly help her appetite.”
Janet’s kindness touched Gill. She was risking a lot for her dying friend. Gill hoped someone would do the same for her, if she were ever in the same position, though God willing, she never would be.
“I think I can get a hold of some. I’ll try.”
“That’s great.” Relief swept across Janet’s face, then disappeared as swiftly as it had arrived. “Please don’t mention this to Todd.”
Todd worked in production, and Gill had been dating him for over six months now. Janet had no need to worry; this was certainly one subject she wouldn’t be discussing with him. He was an easygoing and fun guy, but he had no time for drugs or people who indulged. She didn’t know why he had such a knee-jerk reaction to the subject. She wondered if a family member had been an addict or something. It would make sense.
But Janet wasn’t referring to Todd’s zero-tolerance attitude toward drugs. Gill guessed Todd was still a sore subject. Janet had confided in Gill about her attraction for Todd not long after he’d joined the company at the beginning of the year, and Gill had had the awkward task of breaking it to Janet that she’d just begun dating him. Their friendship had suffered a bumpy patch for a few weeks. They hadn’t lunched together or gone for drinks after work, but that phase had passed.
“I won’t mention it to Todd,” Gill said.
***
After work, Gill went home to her condo and called Laura Warren, the nearest thing Gill had to a drug connection. They’d been roommates at UC Davis, and they’d maintained their friendship after college, getting together a few times a year. One thing Laura had kept from her college days was her Friday night joint. She called it her “unwinder.”
“Laura, I need a favor.”
“Like what?”
Gill explained and pressed the guilt angle saying, “I wouldn’t ask under any other circumstances.”
“I know.”
“Do you think you can help?”
“You make me sound like I’m a dealer.” Laura’s tone was clipped.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it to sound that way. I don’t expect this to be a regular thing. Just this once, to help out a dying woman.”
Laura sighed. “Are you still coming by this weekend?” Laura asked.
“Yes.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
***
On the following Monday, Gill went to Janet’s cube and handed her a padded envelope. Stunned amazement swept across Janet’s face when she peeked inside.
“You got it!”
Gill shrugged the comment away. Laura had come through, or, more precisely, her brother had. When it came to shady dealings, it always came down to friends of friends of friends. Laura rarely had more than a joint or two in her possession. It was her brother who fulfilled her needs, and he’d supplied a dime bag, gratis. Even he had been touched by Janet’s friend’s plight.
“It took some doing,” Gill said.
“I bet it did. Oh, you don’t know what this means. I’m going to Phoenix this weekend; I’ll take it with me,” Janet said.
“Are you driving?”
“No. Flying.”
“Flying? That seems risky.”
“Not really. It’s not like it’s a flight from Bogotá. And when was the last time you saw a drug dog wandering around a domestic terminal?”
Janet made good points, but they failed to quell Gill’s fears.
“Besides, if I’m stopped then I’ll explain why I have it. I doubt they’ll do anything to a nice law-abiding woman taking pot on a mission of mercy.”
“You’re crossing state lines. They’d get you for possession at the very least.”
Janet shooed the argument away with her hands.
“Well, if you use that story, they’ll lock you up.”
“Then what do you suggest?”
“Just tell them it’s for personal use. You won’t get away with it entirely, but at least they won’t think you’re some sort of mule.”
Over dinner at Janet’s that night, Gill talked Janet through how she thought she should handle the airports. Gill wasn’t an expert, but Janet was so clueless when it came to this that any street smarts Gill possessed would go a long way. The plan, like all good plans, fell to pieces the following day. Janet cornered Gill in the lunchroom as she was feeding a quarter into the Coke machine.
“Bad news,” Janet said, her face masked with disappointment.
“What’s wrong?”
“Arizona’s off. I’ve got to fly to corporate headquarters this weekend for a presentation on Monday.”
“It can’t be helped, I suppose. Just go next weekend.”
“I don’t want to wait. Melinda’s got all her hopes up for this weekend. I can’t bear to smash them.”
“Can’t you put this meeting off?”
Janet shook her head and took a deep breath before saying, “I have a really big favor to ask this time.”
***
Gill entered Oakland International’s Terminal 2 with marijuana taped between her breasts. With the recent changes in airport security searches, this was the best hiding place for the drugs. Security could only search a woman’s breast area if something metallic set off the wand or something obvious distorted the lines of the clothes. Gill had played it safe by wearing a bra without an underwire. Luckily, her sizeable cleavage swallowed the Ziploc bag with ease. After using the automated check-in service, she checked out her appearance in the ladies’ room mirror. Nothing poked out in the wrong places, and she looked fine, if a shade paler than normal. Nerves. Stupid nerves. She splashed her face with hot water to bring the color back to her cheeks. It worked, somewhat. She gave herself one last appraising glance before venturing through the security check. Game time, she thought.
She joined the long line of travelers waiting to pass through the checkpoint. She removed her driver’s license and boarding pass and crept toward the two security women in blue blazers. The elder of the two checked Gill’s documents with polite disaffection and instructed her to join a line for the metal detector. That was the first hurdle cleared.
Janet had been right about one thing—sniffer dogs. There weren’t any wandering around. Everything looked to be plain sailing. So why did she feel so nervous? Fate. It could turn against her and hang her out to dry. She hoped Saturdays were fate’s day off.
Todd hadn’t helped her mood. When she’d broken their weekend plans, naturally he’d been curious as to why. She hated deceiving him, but couldn’t tell him the truth. Clearly her deception had failed to sound convincing. He’d sensed she was keeping something from him and had acted hurt and distant. She’d tried calling him before she left for the airport, but he hadn’t picked up.
She slipped off her sandals and put them in the tray with her purse. She dug loose change and a gum wrapper out of her pocket and they went in the tray too. She’d taken the precaution of not wearing jeans or a belt or anything that would set off the metal detector. When she passed through the detector, the only metal on her would be the two fillings in her teeth.
A stern-looking woman with a severe perm put a halting hand out to Gill until the glut of people already through the detector cleared the area. Then the woman waved Gill through with her wand.
Gill hesitated. This was it. She was either going to get away with it here, or it was going to hit the fan. She stepped through.
The machine didn’t make a sound. Gill stood, disoriented, in front of the woman with the bad home perm. The detector hadn’t gone off, but the look of disdain on the woman’s face and her threatening grip on the wand said Gill had given herself away. Before she could figure out what she’d done wrong, the woman said to her, “Collect your carry-on and move on to your g
ate.”
Gill did as she was told. She bundled up her stuff under her arm and got the hell away from the security area, passing the unfortunate people receiving unwanted pat downs. She was still so nervous that she didn’t bother to slip on her sandals until she reached the concourse at the top of the short flight of stairs.
After that, everything went smoothly. The Southwest flight left and arrived on time. The Phoenix weather was glorious—the perfect balance of dry heat offset by a cooling breeze. There was no line for her rental car, and she even received a free upgrade. Her mood brightened to match the Arizona day.
She followed the MapQuest directions Janet had printed out for her. When she found the address, she was surprised to note that Janet’s friend didn’t live in the best of neighborhoods. Gill wondered if she’d had to move to cover the medical bills.
She pulled into the apartment complex and parked. A couple of preteens tracked Gill’s progress across the courtyard with malicious stares. She quickened her pace to the first-floor apartment and knocked on the door. A healthy looking woman with lustrous auburn hair answered the door. She didn’t show a hint of the ravaging effects of chemotherapy.
“Melinda?” Gill asked.
Melinda smiled and stood back. Gill walked inside the starkly furnished apartment, confused.
“Can I get you a drink?” Melinda asked.
“No. I’m good.” Gill wondered why Melinda looked so good. She expected the woman to be crippled by her disease. Maybe she was close to recovery.
“Do you mind if I get one?” Melinda didn’t wait for an answer and opened the fridge door. Her head buried in the fridge she asked, “Do you have the stuff?”
“Yes.” Gill had removed the bag from its hiding place in the airport bathroom and reached inside her purse and pulled it out. She held it out to Melinda.
Melinda let the fridge door close and held out her gun and her badge.
***
As it turned out, “Melinda” was actually an undercover cop named Faye Kirkland. There was no Melinda. The address belonged to a known felon and Detective Kirkland was there based an anonymous tip. Janet denied all knowledge of Gill’s claims during the trial, and Gill was completely flummoxed as to what had happened and why. The third month of Gill’s sentence, a postcard arrived at the prison. It wasn’t signed. It read, “Todd’s with me now.”
