by Ty Patterson
‘Floyd Wheat.’ Broker explained his habits and how they correlated to the dud busts.
‘These guys’ – nodding at Bwana and Roger – ‘were heading to the café when they were attacked. They got out of that jam, and then when Isakson told us about this ice deal, we put the café on hold to see how this deal panned out.’
‘We busted that deal, though.’ Chang being Mr. Obvious.
‘Yeah. But Wheat didn’t know you were planning to. He’s been away for a month due to some knee injury and has been cut off from the information flow.’
Broker could see the Director writing Wheat’s name on his pad, his pen digging deep in the paper, willing it to reach out and hurt him.
There was warm appreciation in his eyes when he’d composed himself. ‘Clare said she’d trust you with her life. Or her career. Now I know why.’ He nodded at himself. ‘Now we’ll get the bastard. We’ll pick this thread from here and tear him and his life apart.’
Chloe tapped her watch, looking at Broker. He brought out Hamm’s phone and placed it on the table. ‘There’s more,’ he said.
The call came an hour later, this time from another mobile number.
Broker put it on speaker and held the phone up for the NYPD geeks to note the number and start tracing it.
There was silence from the caller, dead silence, not even breathing. Broker allowed the silence to last for a minute before breaking it. ‘Yo, Scheafer, this is your friendly neighborhood Broker. I guess you’ve heard of me. You know this go-silent thing of yours was aped by Hamm. You must’ve been a real hero to him. Yeah, that’s right. Hamm was, not is. Guy’s rotting away in a NYPD morgue now. Overrated if you ask me. Oh, that was a neat trick at the hotel, but here we still are, and there he is.’
The silence continued. He looked at the tech guys, and they shook their head.
‘You’re down now how many chapter heads? Two, right? And the Russians are taking back territory. Didn’t Hamm tell you there was an easy way to end this? Just tell us who your inside guy is.’
Scheafer hung up.
‘Got anything?’ Forzini barked at his men.
They shook their heads in frustration. ‘One of those voice over IP calls.’
Forzini pounded the table in anger.
‘We’ve enough to crack this now,’ Murphy said mildly, calming him, knowing Forzini’s desire to strike back.
‘Director, did Isakson discuss the other matter with you?’ Broker asked Murphy softly.
‘Rocka and the kids?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘That’ll be taken care of,’ Murphy said, and Broker sighed in relief inside. They had demanded that Elaine Rocka and her wards be placed in witness protection and the damage to her house be compensated. ‘The danger to her doesn’t go away even after we nail the mole. The gang could come after them. New identities and a new start for them is the least you can do,’ he’d told Isakson.
‘What now for you guys?’ Murphy asked them a few hours later after they’d finished with Chang and Pizaka.
‘We’ll use our powers of persuasion on Scheafer.’
‘Broker.’ The Commissioner’s voice rang out as they headed out. Broker turned, saw Forzini glance at his companions, gave a slight nod to them, and stepped forward, walking alongside him deeper in the building.
‘Rolando’s a good friend of yours?’ Forzini asked him, fully knowing his answer. ‘I’m godfather to his daughter. Lovely girl, going to Stanford this year. His wife makes the best pasta, but don’t tell my better half.’
Broker kept silent, letting him take his time, form his words.
‘Pizaka and Chang are good cops. They know how modern policing works. They’ll go far.’ He stopped, looking up and down the corridor they were in, empty but for them. He placed a hand on Broker’s shoulder, a hand that had turned to a fist earlier. ‘Me, deep down, I’m old school.’ He looked searchingly in Broker’s eyes, nodded once, and walked away.
‘What?’ the others asked when Broker joined them.
‘We got carte blanche.’
Chapter 41
Shawn threw himself at Broker and Roger when they – showered, shaved, smelling nice – met the family in another anonymous apartment. He bumped fists with both of them, and when Lisa kissed them on the cheek, Roger grinned. ‘Whoa, princess, that’s some welcome.’
She looked at them seriously. ‘My dad calls me that. Have you found him?’
‘We’re working on it, honey,’ Broker told her, signaling Rocka with his eyes.
She understood, led them away and, when they were alone, asked in her direct manner, ‘He’s dead, isn’t he?’
They nodded; Roger went on to tell her everything that had happened since they’d found his last page. Silence fell like a weight on them, the distant laughter of the children accentuating it. Pieter glanced in when he felt the quietness, nodded in understanding, and left them alone.
Elaine Rocka drew a deep breath, her eyes bright. ‘It won’t be over till you find this guy, will it?’
‘Ma’am, for you and the kids, the gang remains a threat whatever happens. But there’s a way out of this for you all to lead normal lives.’
Broker explained how WITSEC, the Witness Security Program, worked and what it would mean to their lives, but stopped when she smiled briefly and held a hand up.
‘You forget, I work in the mayor’s office. I know about this. Has this been signed off by the Commissioner, the FBI?’ she said tartly.
‘Yes, ma’am. We’ll need to complete lots of formalities, but it’s all done.’
She stood up abruptly. ‘Do it. My babies need to get their childhood back.’ She stalked away, a lioness protecting her brood.
‘Remind me never to cross her.’ Broker looked wryly at Roger as they left.
‘It can’t be done. Not unless you mount a full frontal attack and cut off the rear. We need a small army for that,’ Bear said when they returned. ‘Of course, Bwana and I are the equivalent of two armies’ – he winked – ‘but we’ll need more than that.’
They were studying Kelleher’s home in Queens, a mere ten-bedroom residence with a swimming pool and a surrounding wall. They were going to keep relentlessly on the gang till something gave, and the chapter head of Queens was their next target.
Broker drummed his fingers, going through their options. ‘Let’s try out some toys.’
They split up, taking three cars; Broker – shrugging off Bwana’s look that asked, Just how stinking filthy rich are you? – led them.
He took them to an office block, with a basement parking lot, a corner of which was a tennis-court-sized walled-off block with shutters. Broker entered a code at the door, swung it open, flipped on the lights and gestured grandly.
One section of the block was a car mechanic’s dream come true – a fully stocked garage housing three Escalades. The garage was not what had them gaping. The remaining section of the block had shelves that ran lengthwise, stocking gadgets and weapons.
Bwana went to one of the shelves and picked a model car – this model was electric and had a spy camera and a recorder fit in it. The device next to it was an inflatable weather balloon, one that conducted surveillance.
He closed his mouth. ‘This yours?’
‘Yes. Actually the whole building is mine.’ He started to say more but held back, looking embarrassed.
‘What?’ Chloe asked him bemusedly; they had never seen him lost for words.
‘It’s ours,’ he blurted out.
‘Say what?’ Roger shouted incredulously, his words echoing inside.
Broker shifted on his feet, refusing to meet their gaze. ‘It’s complicated,’ he said finally.
Bwana and Roger pulled four folding chairs for all of them to rest themselves. ‘Make it simple, Broker,’ Roger said pleasantly, all the time in the world for them to hear Broker’s astonishing revelation.
‘You remember we rescued that girl in Morocco?’
They nodded, an assignment they r
emembered well.
They had taken down a terrorist cell in Morocco, and during the mission had discovered a hostage, a young girl who was shared among the men, a girl whose ordeal had turned her mute. They had freed her from the terrorists, wiping out most of them, taking the cell leader alive, and had brought both of them stateside for debriefing.
The cell leader had died during an attempted escape, but the girl had survived, and after two months of healing, medical care and psychiatric attention, she uttered her first words. Words that had a profound and positive impact on the Agency.
The girl turned out to be the daughter of a high-ranking royal in a Middle Eastern country, a country that the US was desperate to have warm relations with. The grateful royal met Clare and presented her with a check that made her raise her eyebrows. ‘Shall I increase it?’ he asked, reaching for his pen.
‘He refused to take the money back, and Clare gave the check to Zeb and me to do as we pleased with it. We formed a company with the six of us as equal owners, invested the money, and a few years back, we bought this, outfitted it’ – he waved his hand around – ‘and this is it.’
‘Why didn’t you tell us earlier? Or Zeb, why didn’t he?’ Chloe regarded him curiously.
‘There wasn’t a right moment. Bwana and Zeb disappeared on assignments, Bear and you got assigned by Clare… then Zeb died. This is the first assignment we have all been together in a long while.’
‘I was also scared,’ he said after a pause.
‘Of?’
‘You guys are my family. I was scared this would alter our relationships with one another.’
He fidgeted under the weight of their gaze, all poise and sophistication deserting him, more nervous than he had ever been. He tightened as Roger stood and glanced at the rest of them and approached him. Behind Roger, Chloe giggled, and then Roger was doubling up, and they were all laughing.
He stared at them and staggered back as Roger punched him in the shoulder.
‘For all those brains, you can be amazingly dumb. We knew all along about this place; we just didn’t know where it was.’
It was Broker’s turn to gape at them, his fog clearing as Roger explained, ‘Zeb told us about the company and the investment, that time in the Catskills when you guys were camping with the Balthazars. He also told us you had this stupid fear of this impacting us, so we decided to play you along.’
He hugged Broker. ‘We don’t do this for the money, bro. This doesn’t change anything.’
Behind him Chloe nodded vigorously. Roger was speaking for all of them.
‘Right, let’s see the toy I brought you here for.’ Broker returned to form. He reached to the top of a shelf and showed it to them. It had wings, wheels, and various attachments.
‘A drone, the latest in countersurveillance, has zoom video, all kinds of hearing gizmos that can hear a fly fart, and night vision. It can stay up for twelve hours, will self-destruct if tampered with, and noiseless from over ten feet away.’ He patted it proudly and gestured at five other drones on the shelf. ‘We’ve enough of them and can get more. The manufacturers also supply the NSA and Defense Intelligence Agency.’
Bwana inspected it, looking at the various attachments. ‘Will it carry weapons? Can it fire?’
‘Nope, too heavy, and remote warfare is not really what we guys are about.’
Kelleher’s residence was in a relatively quiet neighborhood nestled snugly in its walled oasis, many large residences in its vicinity. A section of the wall ran along the street, leafy trees bordering it on the inside, carefully pruned to remove any overhang. The wall curved inwards leading to black metal gates, ten feet tall, which opened to a driveway that joined the street.
Most of the house was shielded from the street except for a few high windows.
‘You’ve no other info on this residence? What kind of security? Dogs? Any idea about which businesses this chapter owns or runs? Bars, gas stations, anything?’ Bear stroked his beard as he looked at the neighborhood map.
‘If I had all those, you think I wouldn’t be sharing?’ Broker grumped. The chapter had little ‘leakage’ – information on its places of operation – which was a stark contrast to Hamm’s gang. The only alternative available to them was to track Kelleher’s movements, find a pattern, and then work out a takedown plan.
They needed to know which wheels he rode in.
A police cruiser whispered down the street at midnight, paused a moment outside the wall, and drove out slowly. If watchful eyes were around, they would’ve noticed a dark shape rising in the air, disappearing in the shadows of the trees.
That time of the night, the only alert eyes on the street were in the cruiser.
The cruiser crawled away, parking behind a DOT, Department of Transportation, truck that was parked a street away, in a perimeter of traffic cones. Roger hopped out of the cruiser and woke Broker in the truck, the warm smell of coffee enveloping him as the truck’s window lowered. The drone could be operated by two pilots, each able to pass control to the other, and Broker’s controls flickered to life as he took over. He’d connected the video and audio feeds to his laptop for detailed study.
The cruiser drove a block away and drew to a stop beside a Lincoln Town Car against which two figures were lounging, Tony and Eric. Roger and Bwana swapped vehicles with them and positioned themselves behind a row of parked cars, keeping the entrance to the street in view. At the far end, a similar-looking Town Car kept the exit in view, Bear and Chloe in it.
Broker did an initial pass of the grounds of the house, noting the armed guards with dogs patrolling the perimeter, swung the drone to the rear where the pool lay, its underwater lights splotches on the drone’s night vision, moved around the back, noting the garages, tennis courts, and then brought the drone to the front, to the large portico and tall wooden doors, not shut in the night.
He counted eight armed guards outside, four of them with dogs, and in the portico, three SUVs, the darkness hiding their make. He had seen a pickup truck in the rear standing alongside a tractor, both near a rear entrance, which he guessed was the service entrance and also a possible exit route for the gang boss.
He sent a text to Bwana and Roger, asking them to check the rear out, giving them directions to the exit.
‘The house seems to have twenty people in all, including Kelleher, a girlfriend – who seems to be seminude most of the time – house staff, and then the hitters. Ten of them, eight of whom patrol outside in the night, one acting as driver, and at any time there are three Porsche Cayennes that they use to ferry Kelleher to wherever he has to go to get his gang business done.’
Broker was reading from his notes in the late evening the next day as he grouped with the four of them, Tony and Eric relieving him on the drone, which was back in his truck.
They had spent the whole day monitoring the residence, Broker using the thick foliage of the trees as cover for the drone, Tony relieving him in spells while he rested.
Bear picked up the thread, ‘Kelleher went to a strip club at noon, an hour away, spent three hours and then returned and has been holed up in his house ever since. He took the three rides, him in the middle, and had six thugs with him in total.’ Chloe and he had followed the cavalcade once they’d exited the residence.
‘The interesting thing is he doesn’t use the phone much… he has incoming calls, but very few outgoing ones, and when he does, it’s all in monosyllables and one-liners. This is one paranoid SOB. They must have learnt something from Cruz and Hamm,’ Broker commented, stifling a yawn.
‘Let’s do this for two more days,’ Roger suggested. ‘Can your guys get us spare wheels? We don’t want to be having the same rides for three days.’
‘Do bears shit?’ Broker snorted. ‘He’s already got spares lined up.’
At the end of the third day, they had a few more variables in the picture; Kelleher spent a few hours at a small warehouse the second day, and on the third he went back to the strip joint. He randomly sel
ected a Porsche to seat himself in each day, sometimes the lead vehicle, sometimes the rear, no particular pattern to his choosing. He was away from his residence for four hours a day, but those four hours began anytime from noon to mid-afternoon.
‘Those places are where he does business? A warehouse could be a neat cover for his drug distribution,’ Chloe thought aloud.
Bear rejected the idea. ‘Too obvious. Most likely the gang owns those joints, and he goes there to meet people or to put the fear of the gang in them.’
‘Right, question time,’ Broker announced. ‘Take him down at the residence or at one of those joints? Why not the street?’
They debated the options, keeping in mind that there would be non-principals about at all the locations and the size of the force at the other locations was an unknown.
Bwana gazed at an out-of-state Subaru passing them, the blonde in it giving him a second glance.
‘We don’t do the takedown,’ he said, staring at the Subaru’s plates.
They stared at him as if he’d sprouted wings and horns.
‘The Russians will do it for us.’
Chapter 42
Broker looked at him, dust particles bouncing off his dark skin, catching the sunlight, haloing him. He considered Bwana’s suggestion. Good idea. Why didn’t I think of it?
He mock-frowned at Bwana. ‘We thought you wanted to take them out yourself, grind them into fine powder, and blow that powder away. You sure you aren’t growing soft? How can we make it attractive to Oborski, though? While he disposed of Cruz for us, this will be like outright gang war, and while he’s not averse to it, he will need a sweetener.’
Chloe remembered the decoy cruiser they’d used. ‘If we tell him the cops will stand back? I guess they regard him as the lesser of the two evils?’
He acknowledged her with a salute. ‘What I was thinking. Of course, we will have to put it in a different way to the cops. The Russian mob is still a gang they have to go after. Let me make some calls. While the Commissioner has given us a free hand, I am sure he wants us to be as subtle as possible and not create mayhem and bloodbath on the streets.’
