by Luke Murphy
“Right. Sorry. But I’m not sure they even know he’s there. Alexandrov hasn’t spoken about it to anyone since our initial interception.”
They were quiet for a minute. Calvin mulled over everything Alexandrov was capable of, and he was sure Dale did the same.
“Anything new since we spoke last night?”
“The Russians found me. They sent a couple of guys to the hotel this morning to take me out.”
“I guess that didn’t work out so well for them.” Calvin could hear the smile in Dale’s voice.
“Alexandrov has two fewer disciples to lead.”
Dale chuckled. “He’ll be pissed to hear that. Helping Sanders has cost him quite a bit already. We’ll continue to monitor the surveillance bugs you set up, to see what his next move is.”
“How’s Rachel?”
“Bored. You want to talk to her?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, before I pass her the phone, I wanted to let you know that I’m supposed to hear from the colonel today about a plan to capture Baxter. Call me back this afternoon. I hope to have some information for you.”
Calvin could hear fidgeting over the phone and the receiver exchanging hands.
“Calvin,” Rachel came on the line.
He could sense the sadness in her voice.
“Hey, babe.”
“When are you coming home?” A desperation weighted her tone.
“Soon.”
“When can I go back to our place?”
“Once we know for sure that Baxter has left the city. From what Dale just told me, it could be as soon as tonight.”
“Thank God, I’m going stir crazy here.”
“Just hang in there, baby. Hopefully it’ll all be over soon.”
“I miss you.”
“I miss you, too.”
“What’s Brazil like?”
“Not exactly a vacation but all of that research on the Amazon rainforest you did has already been beneficial. I can’t thank you enough.”
“I’ll do whatever I can to help. I just want you to come home.”
“I know.” It tore him up. “Look, Rachel, I gotta go. I love you.”
“I love you too, Cal.”
Calvin turned off the phone. Rachel’s voice had struck a nerve, making him homesick.
He went back into the mall, found a row of payphones and called a cab. He hung up and looked around the food court, but no one paid any attention to him.
His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t had breakfast or anything today for that matter. He ordered a Japanese dish and left the mall. A cab was already waiting outside.
He walked towards it and froze.
“Hello, Mr. Tourist.” The driver’s smile sparkled. Her elbow rested on the bottom of the open window frame, her finger twirling a lock of hair that was up, held in place by a steel rod looking like a chopstick.
“You again? That was fast. Is there only one cab in this city?” Calvin stepped into the back of the taxi.
“Lucky for you, I just dropped someone off here when the call came over the radio. Where to?”
“The Opera House.”
She laughed. “Ah, the total tourist package: the zoo, the mall and the opera.”
She left the mall parking lot and merged into traffic. Calvin tried his best to shield his face. If she noticed his pockmarked skin, she didn’t mention it.
“So, where is your girlfriend this morning?”
Calvin grinned. Busy setting me up to be killed, he thought. Instead, he said, “She isn’t exactly my girlfriend. I just met her yesterday.”
She smiled in the mirror. “You move fast. You two seemed pretty close last night.”
“Let’s not talk about it, please.”
“Uh-oh, trouble in paradise. I heard there were some problems outside your hotel this morning. That wasn’t you, was it?” He could hear the sarcasm in her voice. “Seems like trouble just follows you around.”
“I guess I’m lucky like that.”
She let out a snort for a laugh.
Calvin enjoyed talking with her. She was easy going and always knew just what to say to cheer him up. But he still wasn’t about to tell her why he was really in Brazil.
“So, what show are you seeing today?”
“What?”
“At the Opera House.”
“Oh, yeah.” He shook his head. “Not sure.”
There weren’t any more words spoken during the rest of the trip. Calvin scarfed down his Japanese noodles.
She pulled up to the curb in front of a truly enchanting piece of Renaissance architecture, a working historical landmark built in the European architectural style. Calvin wasn’t the type to be awestruck, but the sight of the Opera House was absolutely magnificent.
He stepped out of the cab and slammed the door, still gazing at the building. He walked up to the driver’s window, without taking his eyes off the Opera House.
She cleared her throat, bringing him out of his daze. Calvin looked at the cab driver, who had a grin, a kind of gratitude on her face. Was she opening up?
She winked, putting out her hand.
But for a brief moment, a nanosecond, Calvin could have sworn her walls had come down, exposing her soul. Maybe it was a gesture to Calvin, that he was appreciating her cultural heritage. Whatever it had been, it had vanished within seconds. He paid the fare.
“Enjoy the show,” she said, then put the car in gear and drove away.
He walked up the wide ramp of stairs, alongside the statues and columns made of Cararra marble. The dome of the building was covered with decorated ceramic tiles set in a mosaic design depicting the Brazilian flag flapping atop pinkish concrete block.
The doors were locked and no one was around, which Calvin expected since shows regularly operated at night. He checked his watch; fifteen minutes early. It was easy to remain hidden within the large structures outside the building. He stayed behind pillars, under the front entrance roof and in the shadows, watching out for Luiz.
Chapter 13
Calvin emerged when he heard a vehicle and saw a dark-colored van backing into the far corner of the parking lot, partially hidden by the side of the building. He recognized Luiz in the driver’s seat, but waited to make sure he was alone. Once that was established, Calvin looked around quickly and jogged over to meet him.
“Everything okay?” Calvin asked.
Luiz nodded. “Get in.”
Calvin opened the sliding side door, threw his duffel bags in, then hopped into the front passenger seat. “Where are we going?”
“We aren’t going to the launching dock. Your picture and name are making the rounds. The cops are looking for you. There will be too many people at the dock and we’d be at risk. My boat is docked at a small place about thirty minutes away. Very private. Very secluded. We’ll launch the boat in the Amazon River and fork into the Solimões River from there. Then we have a long stretch of water to explore.”
“That sounds good. When we get on the boat, I’ll tell you the whole truth. I think you deserve to know why I’m really here.”
Luiz was quiet, constantly checking his rear-view mirror. Sweat rolled down his temple. To Calvin, he seemed nervous, and why wouldn’t he be? His wife had just been murdered, and he had no idea who was chasing him, or what he was heading into.
But Calvin would fill him in, and make sure he was protected. He still felt guilty about Chantal’s murder. Calvin was not going to let anything happen to Luiz.
A long stretch of tension followed. There was no talking during the thirty-minute ride. The air in the van was sticky, intense. Both men prepared for a battle, and planned their path.
They took a dirt, man-made road through a forest of trees. The van slowed to a snail’s pace as they reached the tip of the bay, where an old, thirty-foot, high-performance, twin-engine, Cigarette Model SS powered speed boat sat anchored on shore.
Calvin looked at Luiz, knowing his face showed signs of surprise.
<
br /> “I didn’t think you wanted the ‘tour’ boat anymore. If I’m wrong, tell me now and we’ll get the other boat. This is the real deal.”
“This will do.” Calvin jumped out, grabbed his duffle bags and threw them in the vessel. Then he helped Luiz with his load: bags, coolers, and gas tanks. There were only a couple of gas tanks which surprised Calvin.
“Will this be enough to get us there?”
“Depends where we’re going, but it should be close. If we need more, there’s a place we can stop along the shoreline on the way.”
Calvin knew little about boats or where they were going, so who was he to argue. He was just grateful to have a guide like Luiz along. The fact that Luiz now had as much motivation as Calvin, was kind of a blessing. Plus, Luiz knew the waters and the area.
Calvin watched the tour guide pull the key from a ring hidden underneath the throttle and give Calvin the “thumbs-up” sign.
When they were packed and ready to go, Luiz sat at the wheel and Calvin got into the water, waist-high, pushing the boat out. After one big push, Calvin grabbed the edges and pulled himself in, joining Luiz at the front of the boat.
“It might be old, but those engines are five-hundred horse power each. We can hit eighty miles per hour on a good day.” Luiz started it up, the motors dropped into the water, and they slowly treaded out into the bay.
“I need some water. Do you want some?” Luiz asked.
“Absolutely, where is it?”
“That’s okay, I’ll grab it. Take the wheel.”
Calvin grabbed the steering wheel and Luiz went to the back of the boat, returning with two canteens of water.
Calvin opened his and took a long pull. Luiz set his on the seat between his legs.
“There’s something I need to tell you, Luiz. You deserve to know the truth. I haven’t been totally honest with you.” Calvin took another drink, wondering where he should start and how much he should say.
So, he started from the beginning, with helping the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department capture Sanders, all the way to Sanders’ plane going down. He gave Luiz the short-version of the story, but enough so that the man knew what he was dealing with. If Luiz wanted to drop Calvin off somewhere and turn back, Calvin wouldn’t blame him.
He waited for Luiz to say something, but he didn’t. Calvin could see the guide digesting it all and contemplating what to say next.
Once they got out into the bay, Luiz dropped the hammer and opened up the engines. The cool breeze felt good on Calvin, as the Brazilian sun had started to take effect.
“Mind if I have more water?” Calvin asked. He removed his shirt and wiped his sweaty scalp with it.
Calvin again took the wheel as Luiz refilled his canteen from the cooler.
“Drink up,” Luiz said. “We have a long way to go.”
“How far is it?”
“It’s a little over 200 miles to Coari.”
Calvin pulled the GPS from his duffel bag. He checked and estimated that Coari was about 125 miles to Tefé, where Sanders’ plane was said to have gone down. If things went well with no interruptions, they could be in Tefé in four hours. But Calvin knew things rarely went as planned. Most of his life was about preparing for the unexpected and being willing to ad lib when necessary.
He still didn’t think they had enough gas to make it, but he didn’t say anything. Luiz was the tour guide, the expert. If he said it was so, then Calvin was on board.
Calvin started feeling drowsy. The combination of the midday hot Brazilian sun, the humidity level, traveling by plane and now boat, and the action he’d seen over the last couple of days started to wear on him. He shook his head and squinted his eyes. His lids grew heavy.
He leaned back in his seat. His mouth gaping and head tilting. He looked at Luiz, who was focused on the open water in front of him. He tried to drink from the canteen, but it felt heavy in his hand and his muscles wouldn’t cooperate with what his brain told them to do.
He leaned his head back. The canteen fell from his grasp.
He could hear the sound of the engine lower, the boat slow its pace. He heard Luiz get up from the leather seat. Calvin tried to turn to look, but was unable to.
“I haven’t exactly been honest with you either, Calvin Watters.”
Luiz was now right beside him, speaking into Calvin’s ear. Calvin tried to reach out and touch the man but he couldn’t. Everything moved in slow motion, as if in a dream.
“Chantal wasn’t my wife. We were a scouting team. She picked out the marks, and together we brought them in. She saw you on the plane. Let’s call it a ‘chance’ meeting. I’ll introduce you to my friends in a little while.”
Calvin tried to get up but he felt weak, dizzy. His senses floated. His vision blurred. He could hear the steady rhythm of the motors, felt the waves thumping up against the sides of the boat, rocking them back and forth. He smelled the dirty water, and Luiz’s perspiration close to his nose. He was no match against the darkness that surrounded, and then finally took him.
♣
Dale rifled through the photos on his desk and sighed in disgust. He’d spent the last hour going through Alexandrov’s known associates. What a waste of time.
“Why do all Russians look alike?” Dale asked Jimmy.
Jimmy shook his head, looking as tired and discouraged as Dale felt.
They’d pounded the pavement all day yesterday, with no success. Dale and Jimmy had spoken with Steve Sullivan’s neighbors, colleagues, friends and family. Other than his immediate family, Sullivan and his wife had no relatives of their own in the area. No one had any information on them or knew about any planned trips together.
The department’s contacts at the SNCTC indicated that the Sullivan family hadn’t used any of their passports. So, if the family wasn’t in the city, they were still somewhere in the United States, and hadn’t traveled by plane.
Both of Sullivan’s registered vehicles were parked in their house garage.
“Did you hear anything from any of your contacts, Jimmy?”
The large black detective shook his head. “Not yet. But I put the word out to all of them. If Sullivan was into anything in this city, we’ll hear about it.”
Jimmy had a long list of underground contacts connected all over Vegas. Dale had always counted on those snitches in the past, especially for major cases that called for those kinds of “questionable” tactics.
It had been Jimmy’s street contacts who’d alerted Dale and his team to Baxter entering the city back when he’d been hired by Ace Sanders to take out Calvin.
“Call all of the cab companies in Vegas and find out if any of the drivers had a pickup at Sullivan’s house over the last couple of days.”
“You think maybe they took a cab to the airport and flew somewhere for vacation?”
Dale shook his head. “They haven’t used their passports. And if you planned a trip, wouldn’t you tell someone? A friend, a family member, or maybe even a neighbor, asking them to keep an eye on your place and pick up the mail so the box doesn’t get full?”
“Probably.”
“Sullivan’s box is empty, so someone’s been checking it. The kids haven’t been at school. His wife hasn’t been at work. They’ve just mysteriously vanished without a trace. You make those calls, I’m gonna go see if the sergeant has those warrants.”
Dale walked into his sergeant’s office and told him everything he and Jimmy learned yesterday about Sullivan and his family.
“I agree, it sounds fishy.”
Dale couldn’t help but think of the turn his relationship had taken with the sergeant after the Sanders’ arrest. During that case, Dale and his sergeant couldn’t see eye to eye on anything. They butted heads on who to investigate, and what questions to ask during interrogations.
That case had been a bad time for the department. Dale had been sure that his and Jimmy’s investigation had been impeded from someone on the inside. Dale was still certain that Sanders had
a cop on his payroll, feeding him information behind the LVMPD’s back, but he’d never been able to prove it or find out who.
As much suspicion as Dale had about his fellow cop colleagues, he never once suspected the sergeant of being on the take. He was one man Dale trusted, they just happened to be two hard-headed, stubborn individuals who’d stop at nothing to find the truth.
The sergeant now had faith in Dale and trusted his instincts. He no longer looked over his shoulder at every move, and Dale no longer had to walk on eggshells. That one successful case had catapulted Dale in his boss’ eyes.
“Let me find a judge to sign off on this warrant. Should be ready by morning. The other one should be getting here today. Christ, it should have been here already. I think you should go inside Sullivan’s house. The disappearance is probable cause enough.”
“That’s what I was thinking.”
Jimmy popped his head inside the office. “Sullivan’s bank account statements are here.” He brought the papers in.
“Any large deposits?” Dale asked. “Or anything that shouldn’t be there?”
Jimmy shook his head. “Not that I see.” He handed Dale the papers.
Dale silently shuffled through the pages.
“No large deposits or withdrawals. Everything seems to be accounted for. According to their bank statements, the Sullivan’s weren’t living beyond their means. Maybe the inside of their house will tell us differently.”
“No cabs in the city picked up anyone at Sullivan’s residence in the last couple of days,” Jimmy said.
The sergeant’s phone rang.
“Hello?”
He listened for a few seconds.
“Yeah, he’s here. Okay.”
He hung up and looked at Jimmy. “Detective Mason, you have a call on line two.”
Jimmy and Dale left the office and went back to their desks, which were pushed together. Jimmy picked up his phone and pressed the button.
“Mason.”
He listened for about a minute.
“Okay, thanks.” He hung up and looked at Dale. “Sullivan is a big-time gambler. A regular at the Royal Rose Casino. Apparently, he’s in some serious debt over there.”
Dale scratched his whiskery chin. “What was the name of that guy we busted a few years ago? Remember the one hiding out from The Mirage Casino because of an unpaid marker?”
