Thriller 2

by Clive Cussler

  During those two intense months I learned a little bit more about Dan, and everything I learned made me like him more. Dan was an orphan, whose parents had died in a car crash on vacation in the south of France during his sophomore year at USC. He’d been living in an apartment on his own and continued to stay there until he graduated, even though he’d inherited the house on Pine Terrace. Dan told me that he’d been very close to his parents and the house contained too many memories. It had taken a while before he could stay there without being overcome with sadness.

  The family lawyer had provided Dan with advice and an allowance until he turned twenty-one and was allowed to control his inheritance. Even though he was rich enough so he didn’t have to work, he was employed as a stockbroker at a small, exclusive brokerage house run by an old college friend. At one point, he confided that he was doing well enough at work to keep up his lifestyle without having to tap into his inheritance.

  I didn’t go out of my way to tell anyone about Dan but it’s hard to keep secrets from your partner.

  “The john?” Jack Gripper said, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice.

  “Yeah,” I answered sheepishly.

  “It’s the house, isn’t it?”

  We’d passed the house once on the way to interview a witness and I’d told Jack how I’d been in it as a kid and how it was my dream house. After arresting Dan, he’d asked me if the house was the one I’d told him about and I’d said it was.

  “Geez, Jack, why don’t you just come right out and call me a gold digger?”

  “Hey, I’m not casting any stones.”

  Gripper really is nonjudgmental. I guess that comes from being a cop for so many years and seeing as much of life as he has. After our brief discussion about Dan and me, he never brought up the subject again, and I didn’t, either.

  We were in bed when Dan first told me he loved me. I hadn’t pushed it. Just being with Dan was enough. I’ve always kept my expectations low. Like I said, I’d grown up poor and I’d fought for everything I had. My apartment was the nicest place I’d ever lived in. Most of the guys I’d dated hadn’t lived much better. I was starting to build a nest egg, but I could have done what I was doing for the rest of my life and never put away enough to live like Dan.

  I don’t want you to think his money was everything, but money is always important if you grow up without it. I want to think I was in love, but I’m not sure I know what love is. I never saw it in my mother’s relationship with the occasional man she brought home. Working the streets, I’ve seen enough women with split lips and enough men with stab wounds to know that love isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. I’ve never seen shooting stars or heard bells ring with anyone I dated. Not even with Dan. But, he did feel comfortable and he was sure good in the sack and I guess I felt as close to him as I’ve ever felt to anyone.

  When he said, “There’s something we have to talk about,” my first thought was he was going to call it off.

  “So talk,” I said, trying to make it sound like a joke.

  The full moon hanging over the ocean made seeing in the dark easy enough. Dan rolled over on his side. He looked troubled.

  “We’ve been together, what? Two months?”

  “Sixty-one days, twenty hours, three minutes and one arrest,” I answered, still trying to keep things light. “But who’s counting.”

  Dan smiled, but it was only for a second. Then he looked sad.

  “My little flatfoot.” He sighed.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I love you, but I don’t know if I can trust you.”

  That got my attention and I sat up.

  “What do you mean, you can’t trust me?” I snapped, hurt and a little angry.

  “How much of a cop are you, Monica? And how much do I mean to you?”

  I thought about that. More the second part of the question, than the first. He’d just told me he loved me. What was he leading up to? I thought about living here, driving the Rolls, wearing clothes like the clothes I saw on movie stars.

  “I love you, too, Dan. And I’m not so much of a cop that you can’t trust me with anything.”

  “That’s what I hoped you’d say. Look, I’ll level with you. Dating a cop was as much a kick at first as dialing a call girl. I’m not sure there wasn’t even a little bit of a revenge motive in it. You know, getting you in bed after you’d arrested and embarrassed me.”

  I started to say something, but he held up his hand.

  “No. Let me get this out. It’s not easy for me. That’s how it started, but that’s not the way it is now. When I said I love you I meant it, but I’m not sure you’ll want to stay with me when you hear what I have to say.

  “You like this house and the cars and my lifestyle, don’t you?”

  “That’s not why I’ve been seeing you,” I answered defensively.

  “I didn’t say it was. Aren’t you curious about how I can afford to keep them up?”

  “You told me that you’re doing well at work, and about your inheritance. Besides, it’s none of my business.”

  “You really don’t have any idea of how much it costs to live like I do, do you?”

  “Where is this going?” I asked, suddenly growing a little concerned.

  “If you learned something bad about me, that I was doing…That I was dishonest. What would happen?”

  “To us?” I answered, confused.

  “As a cop. Would you turn me in?”

  I looked at him and I thought about us. Like I said, I wasn’t sure I loved him, but I liked him enough to know my answer.

  “I don’t turn in my friends.”

  “Then I’ll say what I have to say and you can decide what you want to do. I haven’t been completely honest with you about my financial situation.” Dan looked embarrassed, a look I had never seen before. Not even when I’d busted him. “I always thought my parents were loaded, and I assumed I’d inherit what they had, so I never really applied myself in school. I’m pretty bright—I’ve got a good IQ—but college was one big party and I graduated without many practical skills.

  “Soon after my parents died I had a rude awakening. This house, a vacation home, a trust fund and some stocks were all I got. It wasn’t peanuts but I learned that they weren’t as well-off as I’d thought.

  “It never occurred to me that I’d have to pay property taxes, the upkeep on a house like this and all the other expenses parents worry about but don’t discuss with their children. The lawyer who probated the estate taught me the financial facts of life. I held out for a while, but eventually I had to sell the vacation home. Then I used up my trust fund and sold off a lot of my stocks to keep up this lifestyle. Like I said, I have no marketable skills.”

  “What about the brokerage?” I asked.

  “Oh, that’s real, and I am doing okay, but what I earn just about covers the property taxes and expenses for a place like this.”

  “Why don’t you sell it?”

  Dan looked me in the eye. “Would you? If you had a house like this, wouldn’t you do whatever you had to do to keep it?”

  I didn’t say anything. What could I say? I knew I’d kill to keep this house if it were ever mine. Dan smiled sadly. He reached up and touched my cheek. The heat of his hand felt so good that I missed it when he took it away.

  “I knew you’d understand. That’s why I love you. We’re so different, but we’re the same in the ways that count.”

  “If you don’t make enough to afford…everything, and you didn’t inherit enough to keep it…?” I asked.

  Dan broke eye contact. “There’s no way to sugarcoat this, Monica. I’ve been dealing.”

  “Narcotics?” I said, stunned. He nodded.

  “Cocaine, mostly. No heroin. I wouldn’t do that. Some marijuana. I’m careful. I sell to select customers, friends mostly, some of my clients. It’s actually the only thing I’ve ever done well on my own.”

  I got out of bed and walked to the window. I didn’t know what
to say.

  “Why are you telling me this?” I asked. “Do you have any idea of the spot you’ve put me in?”

  “I do appreciate the moral dilemma I’ve created for you, but it’s not going to be a problem anymore. I love you and I knew I couldn’t keep seeing you if I didn’t come clean about this. I respect what you do, being a cop. I don’t ever want to compromise you.”

  I turned back toward the bed. “Well, you have. I should bust you after what you’ve confessed to me.”

  “You don’t have to, Monica. I told you so there wouldn’t be any secrets between us, and the reason I’m telling you now is that it’s all going to stop. I had to make a choice between you and dealing, and it wasn’t even close. But I didn’t know how you’d feel about that. If you’d still want to stay with me.”

  “Why should I object if you stop selling dope?”

  “You don’t understand. If I stop dealing, this,” he said, waving his hand around the room, “is all going to end—the house and the cars and the restaurants and…everything.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What I said. Without the cocaine, I can’t afford the lifestyle and there won’t be any more cocaine.”

  “Because of me?”

  “That’s the biggest part of it, but there’s also a practical reason. If I was religious I’d see the hand of God at work.” Dan smiled. “I knew I loved you soon after we met and I knew I’d have to stop dealing if I wanted to keep you, but I didn’t know how I was going to get out of the life. The people I worked for are very dangerous. I was afraid of what they’d do if I told them I wasn’t going to deal for them anymore and they found out I was dating a cop, and they would have found out. These guys are very connected. I…Well, I worried—really worried—that they might hurt you, or threaten to hurt you if I told them I was going to quit.”

  “Jesus, Dan,” I said, really worried because I knew what he said was true. There are dealers that wouldn’t think twice about killing a cop.

  “Its okay, Monica. You don’t have to worry.” He laughed. “Talk about your acts of God.” He smiled. “The week before we met, my connection was busted. Then, right after you arrested me, the DEA arrested the head of the cartel he worked for.”

  “Who was he?”

  “Alberto Perez.” I’d heard about the bust. Perez was big. “They got him in Miami with millions of dollars worth of coke and they got most of his organization, too. It’s finito.”

  “Your connection didn’t sell you out?”

  “I worried about that a lot. When we started dating, I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. But it didn’t, and I think I know why. I’m small potatoes. The feds aren’t going to waste time on someone who deals at my level. You know that. Besides, I’d sold all my product. I was supposed to get some more from the shipment they confiscated. So, I’m clean. There’d be no hard evidence I was a dealer, even if they wanted me. It’s been two months now. More since my connection was arrested. So, I’m guessing I’m safe.”

  I turned back to the ocean but I didn’t see it. I was thinking too hard about how much I trusted Dan and what I was willing to do to keep him.

  “So, what will you do?” I asked to stall for time.

  “I’ll have to sell most of what I have. I can get a bundle for the house. The cars will have to go. I sat down with my accountant. I’ll be in good shape if I watch my money. But the life you’ve seen me lead, that’s over.”

  The house! I couldn’t bear it. To be this close to living the life I’d dreamed of living for so many years, and then to have it snatched away. Dan was talking but I wasn’t listening. I was upset, but there’s this thing about me. I can wall off my emotions when I need to make a serious decision. It comes in handy as a cop and it was coming in handy now. I had a good idea of how I could save the house, but I wanted to think before I said anything to Dan. There was too much at stake. So I got back in bed and I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him.

  “I love you, Dan,” I said. “I want to be with you. You’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. We’ll be working stiffs. That’s not so bad. I’ve been one all my life. You’ll see. We’ll be fine.”

  Dan rested his head on my shoulder. “You don’t know what this means to me. I was so worried you’d leave me when you found out how big a phony I am.”

  “You’re not a phony. You just got hooked on this lifestyle the way your customers got hooked on coke. And it’s not like you’ll have to go cold turkey. We’re going to do fine once you sell this stuff.

  “And it is only stuff,” I said, but I didn’t mean that.

  I was still working the call-girl sting and busting johns kept me away from Dan for a week. I didn’t like the work. To tell the truth, it made me feel sleazy. Most of the poor bastards we arrested had never been in trouble with the law before. They looked so pathetic when I flashed my badge. I guess it was the futility of it all that got me. We were never going to stamp out prostitution. It was the world’s oldest profession for a reason.

  I felt the same way about drugs. People were always going to want something to make them feel better, even if it was only for a little while, and they were going to buy coke or a hooker even if it was illegal. I thought they should legalize drugs and prostitution and let us concentrate on murderers, con men and armed robbers, but no one in the state legislature cared what I thought, so I spent most of the week after Dan told me about his problem dressed like a high-priced tart.

  I spent the other part checking up on Dan. I cared for him, but I’m not naive. He’d lied to me about dealing and I wanted to know if he’d lied about anything else. I used the usual Internet sources to find out what was on the Web. He was quite the socialite and the history he’d given me checked out. Then I ran a check on the house, his cars and everything else he had ever owned. Everything he’d told me checked out there, too. Finally, I used my computer to tap in to federal and state law enforcement files that are only available to cops. All I found was a DUI from his sophomore year in college that was resolved when Dan went into a diversion program. All in all, I was satisfied that Dan was being straight with me, so I set up a meeting with some people I know.

  I told Dan my idea after dinner at an inexpensive Mexican restaurant in my neighborhood. Dan joked that I was trying to break him into our new life, but I really liked the place and I liked being able to wear jeans to dinner and not having to worry about not knowing what the dishes on the menu were.

  I kept the conversation at dinner about police work, telling Dan war stories about some of the weird things cops encounter on the job, and I waited until we were back at the house on Pine Terrace before I told him what I’d been doing.

  “How’s everything going?” I asked.

  “How’s what going?”

  “You know, selling the house, the Rolls?”

  He looked sad. “I’ve talked with a few Realtors to get an idea of what it will bring. The Rolls and the Lamborghini will go next week.”

  “Maybe not,” I said.

  “What do you mean?”

  I felt as if I was standing on a ledge about to jump. I had no idea how Dan would react to what I was going to propose or whether we’d still be together after I had my say.

  “There may be a way to save the house and everything else.”

  “I’m not following you.”

  “I might be able to put you in touch with someone.”

  “I’m still not following you.”

  “You’re not the only one with secrets,” I said nervously. “I’ve been doing a few things I shouldn’t, too.”

  Dan stared at me openmouthed. “You don’t mean…?”

  “I’m not gonna be a cop all my life. I’ve seen how cops live and what cops make. I want to be someone, Dan. I was working narcotics until we started this call-girl sting. About a year ago I was involved in a big bust. Peter Pride.”

  “You were in on that?”

  I nodded.

  “Pride walked.”

  “Yes, he
did. Want to know why?”

  Dan didn’t say anything.

  “Key evidence disappeared and I started a Swiss bank account. Nothing huge, but something for my old age.”

  “Didn’t some cop get busted for that? I thought I read…”

  I nodded. “That was the one part I didn’t like. Bobby Marino. I had nothing to do with that. Pride hated him and he set him up. It doesn’t matter now and there’s nothing I can do about it. But, I can fix you up with Pride. What do you say?”

  Dan’s tongue flicked out and he wet his lips.

  “I don’t know. These guys I was dealing with…They were bad but Pride’s a killer.”

  “They’re all killers, Dan, but Pride’s a killer who pays well. I’ve been tipping him off for a year now. He likes me. You need this,” I said, waving my hand at the view, “and I need you. What do you say?”

  “Let me think. Pride is a whole new ball game.”

  Dan called me a week later and we met for lunch. While we waited for the waitress to bring our order he held my hand.

  “I’ve been thinking about Pride and I’ll do it.”

  “Oh, Dan,” I said, because it’s all I could think to say. He smiled and tightened his grip and I squeezed back. I was that happy.

  “One thing, though,” he said.

  “What’s that?”

  “From now on, you’re out.”

  I started to protest, but he cut me off.

  “I mean it. I didn’t like getting arrested, even for a misdemeanor like prostitution. I don’t even want to think what would happen if they arrested a cop for what you’re doing.”

  “I’m a big girl, Dan.”

  “I’ve never doubted that, but I’m sticking to my guns. From now on, I’m the one taking the risks or the house goes on the market, as planned.”

  Sergei Kariakin was Russian Mafia, which meant he didn’t just kill babies for fun, he ate them, too. The only place he was called Sergei or Kariakin was on his rap sheet where his name was followed by “aka Peter Pride.” Sergei loved America, which he called “the land of criminal opportunity,” and he had adopted an alias he thought sounded like the name of a movie or rock star. The fact that he was as ugly as his crimes and couldn’t carry a tune didn’t faze him and no one dared point out these problems.