Counterfeit Road

by Kirk Russell

  ‘Downstairs now,’ he said as he took a phone from her. ‘I’m not going to hurt you. You’re going to take a message to the police car at the corner. There’s a San Francisco cop named Raveneau. I want him here in less than two hours or Mom here dies. Anyone tries to come in, she dies, anything other than the inspector named Raveneau knocking on the door alone and she dies. Do you understand me?’

  She couldn’t speak.

  ‘Get a fucking grip and repeat what I said to you.’

  She quavered and teared-up. He almost hit her when she couldn’t get the name right, though what she said sounded more like the fucker. ‘Rabidno.’

  ‘He’s in Homicide. You watch TV. You know what that is.’

  She did and he shoved her out a back door. Then he went looking for tape to tie up the mom better. After he did, he closed all the curtains and found her cell phone. His was in the car and there were more of them out there now. He could hear the radios. He lit up her cell and checked the time as the house landline began to ring.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Raveneau listened as la Rosa said, ‘Drury killed an Oakland Police officer and then took a woman hostage. They’re in a house in San Leandro and he’s saying if you don’t get there within two hours he’ll kill her.’

  ‘Wants me in exchange?’

  ‘He’s not saying exchange. He’s saying he’ll kill her if you don’t knock on the front door in time. But you’re not going to do that.’

  ‘When did the two hours start?’

  ‘Ten to fifteen minutes ago.’

  ‘Is anyone talking to him?’

  ‘They’re trying.’

  ‘Do you want to ride with me?’

  ‘I’m driving you and you’re going to get a CHP escort, but you aren’t going inside. I’ll shoot him through the head first.’

  Raveneau scooped up his cell phone. He ejected the CD and turned the computer and the lights off.

  ‘I’ll meet you out front.’

  Outside the Hall of Justice two CHP cruisers waited. The eastbound onramp was just up the street on Seventh, and within a few minutes they were on the Bay Bridge, la Rosa sitting tight on the lead cruiser, both CHP running with lights flashing. When they hit traffic dropping south in Oakland the officers went to siren. As they left the bridge Raveneau talked with the head of the CIU team who advised, ‘Don’t go in there. When he made us he went nuts. We stayed with him until he drove up the other side of Grand into oncoming traffic. He’s flipped out and could take you with him.’

  ‘Does he know he killed a police officer?’

  ‘It’s not clear.’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘He knows the officer got hit by a car.’

  Raveneau talked with a hostage negotiator on scene as they got closer. Local police and highway patrol were positioned at an intersection three quarters of a block from the house with Drury and the hostage. Fifty-one minutes remained before Drury’s deadline ran out and Raveneau moved away from the impromptu command post as he called Coe.

  Coe’s cell went to voice mail. Eleven more minutes passed before he called back. Coe was unaware of the hostage situation.

  ‘What can you tell me about Drury?’ Raveneau asked.

  ‘We’ve got text messages, emails, a lot of it cryptic but it’s probable he got used, and none of this is certain yet, but it’s sounding like he got paid an undisclosed amount of cash to swap out the plywood he was supposed to deliver for what he did deliver. The plant where they make the plywood has cameras that run 24/7 and tape all of their production. The plywood is identified by lots and units. They were able to call up this order and look at it. When it was banded and shipped out there weren’t any bomb casings in it. That’s what we have so far.’

  Raveneau had a heart to heart with the local police chief after hanging up with Coe. She was a solidly built woman, no nonsense, blonde hair cut short, uniform crisply ironed. He didn’t doubt that at civic functions she saw San Leandro as up and coming.

  ‘This is a unique situation for me,’ she said, ‘and I don’t send police officers into danger without a very good reason. What does he want from you?’

  ‘He wants us to leave him alone. We’re working a joint investigation with the FBI and he’s scared.’

  ‘I know about the four homicides at the cabinet shop. Tell me what I don’t know.’

  ‘I can’t tell you much so I’m not going to tell you anything, but the FBI is on the way here. Ask them or listen in as they’re talking to me when I’m in there.’

  ‘We have a SWAT team here. It’ll be dark in less than an hour and we’re prepared to go in behind you.’

  ‘Does the SWAT team know where he is in the house?’

  ‘We know where the phone he’s using is.’ She tugged at his arm. She wanted to talk privately and they walked ten yards away. ‘You’re taking a very big risk. He just killed an officer. You don’t have to do this. You could lose your life.’

  Raveneau looked from her to his cell. The screen lit again and it was the captain calling. But he didn’t see any real choice. He didn’t see another way. He looked at the police chief.

  ‘No matter what happens, don’t let him get killed. He needs to stay alive. He is the link to people who have to be found. Tell your SWAT team they can incapacitate him but under no conditions kill him. The FBI will tell you the same thing.’

  ‘Are you married?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Are you married?’

  ‘Not any more.’

  ‘Do you have children?’

  ‘I had a son who was killed in Iraq.’

  From the way he recited that she knew it still hurt. He saw that in her eyes and said, ‘Let’s do this.’

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  When Raveneau walked down the street to the house his pulse was loud in his ears. He wanted to be calm, but that was impossible. He stepped on to a flagstone path and followed that to a concrete stoop and a green-painted front door. He knocked. He listened and waited. He knocked again and the door opened but Drury didn’t show himself.

  ‘Get in here!’

  The door closed fast, deadbolt snicking into place as the gun pushed into his neck.

  ‘On the floor now! Down! Get down on your knees! Lay down!’

  Drury made a clumsy search then kicked at Raveneau’s head before ordering him to get up. He walked Raveneau at gunpoint down a hallway. The hostage negotiator had advised talking as soon as he was in the door. So far, Raveneau hadn’t said anything and the gun barrel jabbed at his back again.

  ‘In there, go in there,’ and Raveneau walked into a bedroom.

  ‘We’re not doing a trade any more,’ Drury said.

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘Shut the fuck up.’

  ‘Show me her.’

  Raveneau looked up at him both hands gripping a Glock, the veins on the side of his neck bulging.

  ‘How about I shoot you instead?’

  ‘Shoot me and a SWAT team will be in the door in seconds after hearing the discharge. They’re out there getting ready right now. You’ve got about thirty seconds to get her outside, so maybe forty-five seconds to live.’

  ‘You’ve got less.’

  Raveneau took a step toward him. ‘OK, you can do that or I can free her, get her out the front door and we can talk. The Feds know you got used. You got set-up. You were framed and you can trade what you know. You can make a deal with the FBI but let me get the hostage out the door. We’re running out of time. Where is she?’

  ‘Shut up.’

  ‘You’ve got me, you don’t need her.’

  ‘Shut the fuck up.’

  ‘They want to deal. They’re worried. They’re scared. They’ll listen.’

  For a moment he thought Drury was going to pull the trigger, and maybe he was. But he didn’t and motioned with the gun barrel for Raveneau to get up and walk down the hallway.

  She was in a tub in the bathroom with duct tape wrapped around her head holding a cru
shed roll of toilet paper to her forehead. He saw the blood and figured the toilet paper was about a wound. She was light, maybe a hundred and thirty pounds. Raveneau carried her down the hall. He tore the tape off her ankles and led her to the front door. Drury was two-handing the gun behind him as he opened the door just enough for her to go through. He didn’t doubt Drury would pull the trigger if anything happened, and he didn’t know if the door was going to knock him backwards as a SWAT team charged in, or whether glass was going to shatter somewhere else in the house.

  As soon as the opening was big enough she was gone. He heard her running as he locked the door again and Drury stepped back.

  ‘Down the hall and up the stairs.’

  They climbed carpeted stairs to the master bedroom. With the lights off and dusk falling it was nearly dark as Raveneau talked.

  ‘They need you. You are the key and they don’t want you killed. I can get the FBI on the phone. You’ll have to show them where you dropped the plywood before you picked it up a second time. They don’t care what you got paid. That’s not what they’re after. Get your deal, then trade.’

  ‘You’re lying.’

  But there was no conviction in his voice. He was buying in.

  ‘They went through your text and email messages.’ Raveneau let that rest a moment in the twilight and then added some bullshit on to it. ‘They ran their algorithm and found the pattern.’

  ‘I got two thousand dollars.’

  ‘To drop the plywood and pick it up again?’

  After a long pause, Drury said, ‘I’m not going to sit in a prison for life. That’s what they’re telling me I’m going to do. I’m not doing that for two thousand dollars.’

  ‘You were used.’

  ‘Yeah, that guy used me.’

  ‘What guy?’

  ‘I don’t even know his fucking name.’

  ‘He offered you the two grand.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘OK, we’ve got to call. You can dial the number if you don’t trust me. We’ve got to get ahead of the local SWAT guys. They’ll start moving with dark. They’ll only let us sit in here so long. Let’s get the Feds on the line. Let’s get the deal.’

  ‘Downstairs.’

  Drury pushed the gun barrel into his back as they started down. As they reached the bedroom Drury got nervous. He ordered Raveneau down on his belly on the floor again and searched by hand for the phone and gun. The light was gone from the room and Raveneau kept saying, ‘Don’t turn on a light whatever you do.’

  Drury shoved Raveneau’s phone at him. ‘Find their number. Show it to me.’

  Raveneau did that and with the phone to his ear and the gun in his right, Drury called Coe. Coe played his role perfectly, answered crisply, ‘FBI.’ He spoke loud enough for Raveneau to listen in.

  ‘We know you were used,’ Coe said. ‘We understand and we want to talk. Hold the phone where I can hear Inspector Raveneau say he’s OK.’

  Drury held the phone out for Raveneau and as Drury brought the phone back to his ear Coe said loudly, ‘We’ve got a vehicle in the area. We want to pick you up. Are you willing to do that?’

  Drury knew it couldn’t be that easy, but he couldn’t come up with the right questions and Coe kept talking. Maybe Drury didn’t know he’d killed a police officer or maybe he fantasized that could be dealt with. Either way, Raveneau could tell Coe was convincing him from the short answers Drury gave. He got the feeling as Drury hung up that he actually believed it was going to happen just as Coe described it.

  It at least started that way. Two Fed sedans and a van came down the street. Three FBI agents came to the door though none were standing in front of it when it opened and their guns were drawn when he did come out. Drury laid down his weapon. He accepted their apologies when they told him the wrist restraints were only temporary. As they loaded Drury into the van, the agent in charge turned to Raveneau to thank him.

  ‘You can thank me on the way,’ Raveneau answered. ‘I’m coming with you.’

  TWENTY-NINE

  A pair of interrogators worked Drury. They calmed him down. They fed him. They talked about the upcoming Super Bowl and not at all about the patrol officer Drury had murdered. Raveneau was aware from Coe’s updates how angry the Oakland police were that the Feds took Drury, and Fox TV took that story national, the federal government running ramshod. By tomorrow Raveneau knew the outrage would grow to a roar unless more information was released.

  But it was also clear from Coe that the FBI believed as Raveneau did, that John Drury held critical information. As Raveneau watched through the glass, Drury kept circling back to the same story of the man who hired him at Pete’s Corner.

  ‘Where did this Mr Helsing contact you?’

  ‘At the same bar Raveneau followed me to.’

  ‘Why there?’

  ‘It’s where we first met.’

  ‘Tell us about that first meeting again.’

  ‘I don’t remember. I guess he started a conversation. He bought the drinks. I remember that.’ Drury expelled a harsh laugh.

  ‘What were you drinking?’

  ‘What the fuck difference does it make?’

  ‘We want every detail.’

  ‘I don’t remember what I was drinking. He won some money gambling or on a lottery ticket or something and said it was good luck to buy someone a drink.’

  ‘Were you sitting at the bar?’

  ‘We were standing.’

  ‘He was standing next to you?’

  ‘That’s what I just said.’

  ‘Was he taller or shorter than you?’

  Raveneau caught the hesitation. He glanced at Coe. Coe saw it too.

  ‘Shorter.’

  ‘How much shorter?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘An inch, two inches, three inches.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Yeah, what?’

  ‘Three.’

  ‘Did he buy drinks for anyone else?’

  The hesitation again and then, ‘There were these guys playing pool. He bought beers for them. That was it that night. We talked and he left. Maybe we shook hands.’

  ‘What did you talk about?’

  ‘I don’t remember.’

  ‘Tell us about the second meeting. When was it?’

  ‘Pretty close to Thanksgiving.’

  ‘How close?’

  ‘The day before maybe, it was when he made the offer to pay me if I delivered stuff for him. I got to know him over the next three or four months. When Raveneau came to the bar I freaked because I thought he was a cop and it could be about stuff I did for Helsing.’

  ‘You thought you might get busted by Inspector Raveneau?’

  ‘I knew he was looking around and I wondered if he was a cop. He called me earlier and I took off from my house, so I was kind of freaked anyway.’

  The interrogators rolled with it though one of them looked toward the glass.

  ‘Describe his physical features.’

  ‘He has regular features.’

  ‘What are regular features?’

  ‘He’s not Arab or anything like that if that’s what you’re asking.’

  ‘Was he white, black, Hispanic?’

  ‘He’s a white guy with nothing special about his face. Sort of like you.’

  ‘What color was his hair?’

  ‘Black with some gray.’

  ‘Show us where the gray was.’

  Alongside him, Coe said, ‘They want him to describe Helsing and have the artist work from the tape, but I think we’d better get the artist in there now.’

  ‘Not yet, I get what they’re doing.’

  ‘Eyes?’

  ‘Dark.’

  ‘Brown, black, what are they?’

  Drury smiled. ‘Hey, I never exactly looked into his eyes. It happened because I said I needed to make more money and he said he might know a way if I was doing lumber deliveries and it would be a pretty good cash deal for me as long as I figured out a wa
y to add a stop to my regular deliveries without my boss knowing.’ Drury turned toward the glass, adding, ‘Sounded good to me.’

  ‘You weren’t worried about getting fired?’

  ‘I knew how to do it.’

  ‘Tell us about the deliveries and then we’ll come back to the description of Helsing. We need more on him.’

  ‘Yeah, we’ve got a lot of things to talk about before we get to a better description.’

  Raveneau glanced at Coe. That was loud and clear from Drury and Raveneau doubted the description he’d given of this Helsing was accurate at all.

  ‘You’d better make your deal with him,’ Raveneau said. ‘He’s just playing your guys in there and they know it.’

  Coe folded his arms over his chest. ‘We promised Oakland we wouldn’t make any deals.’

  ‘You’ve got to do something to convince him.’

  Coe slowly shook his head. He stared through the glass.

  ‘When did you start doing deliveries for Helsing?’

  ‘Right after that, and if you’re going to ask me what day, I don’t know, end of November, I guess.’

  ‘What did you deliver the first delivery?’

  ‘Some boxes.’

  ‘How many?’

  ‘Half a dozen maybe.’

  ‘How many deliveries have you done altogether?’

  ‘Probably a dozen.’

  ‘Did you keep a record of where?’

  ‘The opposite, I didn’t want any record. They went different places. The unit of plywood was the biggest. Most were small enough for me to carry them, boxes and shit. The first ones were test runs. You know, to see if I could make it work and it worked fine because we’d talk and I’d be able to give him my route for the day. It wasn’t like his deliveries were urgent. I thought he was just about saving money. It would have cost three times as much to run it through the company.’

  ‘What did you think you were delivering?’

  ‘The wood I knew was plywood obviously. A lot of the other stuff was in boxes or crates. A couple of heavier things went to a machine shop.’

  ‘What was the name of that shop?’

  ‘I don’t remember.’

  ‘Where was it?’