by Ward, Robert
“What’s that stand for?”
“That’s the most important part of this report,” Jack said. “Body Never Recovered. Now, let me try something.”
He hit Escape and then turned on the laser printer, which sat on a wooden table next to the computer.
Seconds later the photo of Dr. Hans Becker printed out. Jack picked it up and looked at it.
“Hand me that pencil,” he said.
Charlotte Rae gave Jack the pencil, and he began to draw lines on Becker’s face, then wrinkles around the eyes. “That’s not right,” he said. “The eyes go more like this.” Then Charlotte Rae laughed.
“I hope you never have to teach art for a living,” she said. “It’s like this.”
She erased Jack’s wrinkles and moved the chin higher and tighter.
“That’s it,” he said. “How the hell did you know that?”
“You’re trying to do aging and plastic surgery, aren’t you?” She laughed. “Well, honey, coming from the world I do, everybody knows about that.”
“And it looks just like him, doesn’t it?”
“It does, Jack.”
“Dr. Hans Becker, the mad bomber himself, is Buddy’s good and true friend Dr. Gunther Baumgartner. I knew I recognized that asshole. His mug has been on wanted posters for twenty years. Now, the question is what would Buddy and Morales want with a bombing expert?”
She was silent for a second, confused. Then:
“God, they’re going to blow your people up.”
“You got it. And what better place than the tunnel? That’s gotta be it.”
“Why the tunnel?”
“ ‘Cause there’s going to be a press conference at the tunnel. And if you remember our little escape, there was a certain broken escalator.”
“Jesus,” she said. “You mean they were wiring it?”
“I’d bet the farm on it. What better time for Morales to get even. He’ll kill Zampas and put his own man in power. That’s why they killed Michaels. Michaels was getting too close. It’s perfect. They’ll use a Semtex bomb, and then when Zampas goes into the tunnel in front of all the nation’s TV cameras and press, they blow him to hell.”
“You’re right. Buddy once told me that all drug dealers’ routes are mined, so that any rival gangs will think twice about coming to rip you off. It’ll look like an accident.”
Jack nodded his head.
“I gotta give it to him. It’s perfect. Morales is going to try and kill the top man in the DEA, the man he holds responsible for Jose Benvenides’s death, and install his own mole. That way he combines his personal revenge with a brilliant business move. I knew this was more than just blood lust. He’ll completely control us from within. And we won’t even be able to get an indictment against him for it, because I’m the only one who can put either Buddy or Morales in Mexico, and who’s going to believe my testimony?” Charlotte Rae dropped her head.
“I’m sorry, Jack. I never knew what all of this meant. I pretended it was just a game. Me versus you … nobody would really get hurt. But I knew all along, it was much more serious. I wish to God I had never taken part in any of it.”
She began to cry, and Jack reached over and pulled her close.
“It’s all right,” he said. “Maybe it’s not too late.”
Jack reached for his portable phone—then hesitated. He didn’t dare call either of his bosses at the Texas office. If there was a Morales man in place, then the phone would be tapped. Better to call C.J., have him run with it.
He felt a surge of relief when his partner’s voice answered the call.
“Calvin Jefferson. The man, his own self.”
“C.J. It’s me.”
“Jack! Where the hell are you? They got an APB out on you, my man.”
“Never mind. Listen, I need to talk to Zampas.”
“Sure, but it’ll have to be later. He’s over in Juarez. Out of phone reach just now.”
“Get him out,” Jack said briskly, trying to cover the panic he was feeling.
“Do what?”
“Get him out. Now!”
“Hey, do you know what you’re saying? The publicity mill is cranked up, full bore. Man, they got the press down here. Senators coming from Washington. This is big-time. Would take a nuclear explosion to stop it.”
“Well, you might be getting just that. I’ve got proof that Morales is working with Hans Becker, and I’m sure they plan to pull something down there. My guess is, given Morales’s love of drama, it will be at the tunnel ceremony itself.”
“Becker? The mad bomber? Man, he’s dead. Remember?”
“ ‘Fraid not, C.J. I saw him in Mexico. Plastic surgery has made him a new man. And he’s working with Morales. Don’t you see what that means? Zampas is going to be hit.”
There was a long pause. Jack knew that C.J. was thinking about his retirement.
“Jack, listen to me, man, we’ve swept the whole damn tunnel three times. Even if what you say is true, there’s no way they can get to Zampas or anybody else.”
“Bullshit. They can get to anybody. If the tunnel’s clean, then they’re going to hit a car, or a restaurant. Listen to me. There’s more, a lot more. But I’m not talking about it over the phone. I know it’ll be an embarrassment to stop the dog-and-pony show, but we’ve got no choice.”
“You going to cost me my pension, man.”
“You’ll do it then?”
“Yeah. All right.”
“Good. Listen, I’m getting an afternoon flight down there. I’ll call you later with the time. Can you meet me?”
“Sure. Hell, after I deliver this message to the bosses, I’m probably going to have plenty of time to make runs to the airport. Be driving hack full-time.”
Jack laughed.
“More likely, they’re gonna give you a medal. See you soon, partner.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of.”
Jack hung up the phone.
“You were in time?” Charlotte Rae said.
“Yeah, I think so. The thing is, whoever is the bad apple must have left a trail. Once I get Zampas out of Juarez, I can call on my snitches, find out which one is working with Buddy and Morales.”
“We’ve just got to stop it,” she said. Then she began to cry again. “When I think of how I took part in all this … Christ.”
Jack put his arm around her and held her close.
“You’ve done fine,” he said. “The only question is, what do I do with you now? I’ve got to go down there.”
She wiped her eyes.
“That’s no question,” she said. “I’m going with you.”
“No, I can’t let you do that. It could be dangerous.”
“Look,” she said. “I want to find out who the mole is. Then I’ll give myself up. But after all we’ve been through, you can’t deny me that.”
Jack looked at her and nodded his head.
“All right, partner,” he said. “We’re going to Texas.”
Chapter 28
C.J wore a bright blue shirt with red parrots on it. He looked rested and his smile made Jack feel as though he had somehow come home.
“Man, it is good to see you,” Jack said, hugging his partner, as they walked across the runway at El Paso Airport.
“Wish I could say the same ‘bout you,” C.J. said, smiling. “But you look like some kinda zombie outta one of them George Romero flicks. Man, your skin’s all gray, like oatmeal and shit. And look who we got here.”
He smiled at Charlotte Rae, but warily.
“It’s a long story,” Jack said. “But if it wasn’t for her, I wouldn’t be here. That’s for certain.”
Charlotte Rae smiled silently. Jack noticed she’d been quiet on the plane as well. It was as though the enormity of her part in the conspiracy had finally hit her full force.
Now Jack put his arm around her, and she looked at him with a vulnerable and appealing smile.
They picked up their bags from the carousel and headed o
ut into the parking lot. Jack looked at the desert around them.
“Man, it occurs to me,” he said, as they got into C.J.’s rented Nova, “I hate this fucking place. Texas.”
“I hear that,” C.J. said. “But I’m afraid you ain’t going to like where we’re going then.”
He grabbed Jack’s and Charlotte Rae’s bags and shoved them into the trunk.
“Where’s that?” Jack said.
“About five miles outside town. Zampas wants you to meet him there. Said for me to bring you as soon as you got off the plane. Question is, where are we going to park this lady?”
“She goes with us,” Jack said. “She’s already under arrest. Besides we don’t have time to process her. Now tell me what’s going on with this meeting.”
“Found a new tunnel out there. Comes out inside an old mission. Turns out this place is honeycombed with tunnels. Did you know about this, Miss Wingate?”
“No, I didn’t,” she said. “But it doesn’t surprise me. Morales always has contingency plans.”
“You told Zampas everything, then?” Jack said, as they pulled out of the lot.
“Yeah,” C.J. said. “Everything you told me, that is. But I got a feeling there’s a lot more to it than what I’ve heard.”
Jack stared out the highway at the brown desert and the lonely cacti. He felt invaded by the serious creeps again.
“I think there’s a mole in the Agency, C.J.,” Jack said.
“You serious?”
“Yeah, unfortunately, I am. Michaels was hip to it too; I’m convinced that’s why he was killed.”
“Man, you got to be wrong, Jack. I would swear by any of these guys. Fact, the only one I was never certain about was Michaels himself.”
“Yeah, I know, me too. But it wasn’t him. He was a jerk sometimes, but he was dead-on about this….”
“You know who it is, partner?”
“No,” Jack said. “But it’s not gonna be impossible to find out. I’m gonna lay the whole thing out to Zampas tonight.”
“Good,” C.J. said. “Course he’s gonna think you’re stone nuts.”
“Maybe,” Jack said. “But he’s gonna listen just the same.”
C.J. nodded, stuck a stick of gum in his mouth, and bore down on the accelerator. They shot out into the desert now, and Jack looked at the shadow of the speeding car and the halo of dusty light around the alien moon.
Then the unthinkable occurred to him again. What if it was Zampas himself? What if he had had it all wrong from day one?
As Charlotte Rae squeezed his hand, Jack took a deep breath and shut his eyes.
They turned up a dirt road, called Flores Negras, which coiled behind a large sand dune, and in the distance Jack saw the ruins of an old Spanish mission.
“Strange place.”
“Yes. It was the old Mission of Guadalupe,” C.J. said. “I read somewhere that people used to come here to see a priest who was said to perform miracles. They’d bring their sick babies, their old parents … and the priest would pour holy water on their heads, say rosary over them.”
“Yeah,” Jack said. “And how many of them were saved?”
“Not enough, I guess. A man brought his two children here with scarlet fever. The priest did his thing, but the children died anyway. Their daddy came back and shot the priest five times, then disappeared into Mexico.”
They pulled up ten feet from the half-collapsed entrance to the mission. Jack looked at the bell tower, which was still in pretty good shape.
“Very romantic,” Charlotte Rae said.
“Isn’t it,” Jack said. “Zampas inside?”
“Don’t see his car. Guess he’s late.”
They got out, Jack and Charlotte Rae walking ten feet in front of C.J. Inside, the church had broken pews, a ruined redwood altar on which sat an armless plaster statue of the Crucifixion.
Jack and Charlotte Rae walked toward it, and she touched Jesus’ feet.
“It’s very powerful,” she said, with no hint of irony.
“Yeah, it is,” Jack said, looking at the statue. “Where’s the tunnel come out, C.J.?”
Behind him, at the mission’s entrance, Jack heard the click of a revolver being cocked. He turned quickly, reaching for his own gun.
“Don’t try it, Jack,” C.J. said. He looked at Jack with dead eyes. Then he waved the gun barrel at Charlotte Rae.
“Move real close to your boyfriend, baby. I like to see the two of you together.”
“Jesus. Not you.”
C.J.’s eyes dropped and his voice cracked, but the Glock remained steady in his hand.
“Sorry, Jack. I never wanted it to be like this.”
“Oh, man,” Jack said. He felt as though someone had kicked him in his bruised ribs.
“I don’t believe it,” Jack said. “You’re the best cop I know.”
C.J. cleared his throat. Spat on the floor. Jack knew he was trying to pump himself up in order to do what he had to do.
“Was,” C.J. said, his voice raspy with emotion. “But what did it get me, man? Do I have a house in fucking Pasadena? Do I drive a decent car? Am I on the fucking studio lists to go see screenings? Where the fuck are my wife and kids? Detroit.”
“That’s the Agency’s fault?” Jack said. He turned his head slightly and looked at the statue.
“Yeah, I would say it is. I would say that I gave the fucking Agency the best years of my life, and they gave me shit. The white boys get promoted, ‘cause they’re so smart. The niggers get to stay in the streets, ‘cause that’s where they belong.”
“Come on, man,” Jack said. “You’re the best street cop I know. You never wanted to be a desk jockey.”
“Bullshit,” C.J. said. “That was a game I had to play ‘cause I knew no one was gonna let me get to a desk. You know that your nigger just doesn’t have managerial skills.”
Jack was near the statue, but he was afraid to move because Charlotte Rae was near him. If C.J. shot wide, he would hit her.
He shook his head, only slightly exaggerating the deep sadness he felt.
“How long they owned you, man?”
“You mean how long has it been since I got smart? ‘Bout two years. Now pull out your gun and drop it. Very slowly.”
Jack took it out carefully and tossed it aside.
“How come you didn’t just shoot us both in the back, partner.”
“Don’t try that hostage negotiation bullshit on me, Jackie. I took all the same courses you did, remember. Like I said before, I didn’t want it to go down this way. You were never supposed to come out of Mexico. But now that you have … we can’t let you ruin the party, man. As for you, miss, I’m sorry. You shouldn’t be here at all.”
“Well, you being sorry makes all the difference,” Charlotte Rae said.
“Let her go, C.J.,” Jack said. “She just wants out of this. She won’t say anything to anybody. She’ll disappear.” C.J. shook his head.
“Sorry, baby, but you’re both gonna disappear.”
“You don’t really think this is gonna work, do you?” Jack said. “What little fairy tale are you going to tell Zampas, after you finish here?”
He edged toward Charlotte Rae, pressing her body slightly with his hip, hoping she understood what he was trying to tell her. Get ready.
“Well, first off, I’m going to be real sad, Jack. Which is gonna be easy, ‘cause I feel real sad. I’m gonna tell him you were a mole for Señor Morales. I discovered this sad fact, and confronted you, you went for your gun, and I had no choice.”
“You think anybody’s going to buy that?”
“Yeah, I think so, Jackie, I really do. Look at the evidence. You went down to Mexico, you say you were captured by the bad guys, but you miraculously escaped, and when we came in to hit the drug dealers, they had all gotten away. Sounds a little hinky to me. Then there’s all those photos of you with Lady Godiva here. It’s gonna look real bad, Jack. But you brought it on yourself, babe. That’s no lie. You think yo
u’re a badass, a renegade. What you are, baby, is young. You got a lot of balls, I’ll give you that. But that’s not enough. Morales and Wingate were always smarter than you. Don’t feel bad about it though. They’re smarter than the DEA and the FBI combined. That’s why they make billions of dollars, and we make dog shit.”
Jack edged closer to the altar to his left. The crucifix lay there just out of reach. Jack knew he couldn’t reach it without getting hit, but he had no other choice.
“You can’t do it, C.J.”
“Bullshit,” C.J. said. “You think I got here easy, man? Took years. Years of living bad and watching the germs buying the big cars and the condos. Having my boy getting hit on in school. How long’s he gonna resist the crack dealers? Years of feeling like shit every time I put some scumbag away, just to watch him drive away in his BMW. Finally, I got the message, man. What we do don’t mean shit. To anybody. We’re put out there like sacrificial lambs, while businessmen and lawyers and politicians and everybody else is cashing in. See, baby, to do this you got to be either young and full of piss, like you, which I ain’t no more, or you got to be some kind of saint, and you know what happens to them. They get burned at the stake. Now we’re gonna take us a little hike out into the desert in the moonlight. Move.”
“Wrong,” Jack said.
With a swift motion he pushed Charlotte Rae out of the way. She fell to the floor as Jack grabbed the crucifix and flung it desperately at C.J. C.J. fired two shots into Jack’s chest. Jack fell backward into the altar, screaming in pain.
The crucifix hit C.J. in the forehead, opening a three-inch gash. He staggered but stayed upright, rubbed the wound, felt a little blood on his fingers, then walked down the aisle toward Jack, who lay up against the altar on his back.
Charlotte Rae was up on one knee, facing C.J.’s gun.
C.J. looked down and saw his partner lying dead still. He shook his head, as he turned toward Charlotte Rae, who put her hands over her face.
“Crazy son of a bitch. He always did have more nerve than sense.”
C.J. raised his gun for a final shot to the forehead.
Jack’s right hand had been tucked up under his side. Now it appeared, wrapped around the handle of his father’s .38.
