INTO THE DARK : A TOM DEATON NOVEL

by Richard B. Schwartz

  “He always does this?” Diana asked, as she closed her car door.

  “Just about always,” Hector said, stepping out of the shadows, opening the side door of the garage and leading them to the back porch.

  “Nap or talk?” he asked.

  “Talk,” Diana said.

  “Talk,” Tom added.

  “Hungry?” Hector asked.

  “Yes,” Tom said, “thanks.”

  Hector went into the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with a six-pack of Pacifico, a plate of rye bread, and a bowl filled with small pieces of roast beef. The scent was spicey. Tom made Diana a sandwich and handed it to her. “This is delicious,” she said.

  “Hector cooks and shreds the beef, heats it in a pan with Italian dressing and chops in some pepperoncini,” Tom said. “He always does that. Beer?”

  Diana nodded. He handed her a Pacifico and she put it next to her plate without taking a drink. Tom put the blueprints of the house on the edge of the table. “How do we get in?” she asked.

  “Good question,” Dietrich answered. “Depends on the purpose.”

  “The purpose is to find the stolen art in his possession and arrest him for murder and theft,” Diana said.

  “What if it’s not there? Then we look ridiculous and we’ve put him on his guard,” Dietrich said.

  “Then we go in surreptitiously, see what’s there, and make the formal arrest later.”

  “And what if we’re caught? We get hauled before an Internal Affairs hearing board and face possible arrest for breaking and entering,” Hector said.

  “We’ll have to show probable cause and get a warrant,” Dietrich added. “When we serve it we’ll be announcing to him that we know who he is and what he’s been doing.”

  “What’s wrong with you two?” Diana asked. “You suddenly sound as risk-averse as a pair of White House aides.”

  Dietrich took a drink of his Pacifico and let that pass. Hector looked at Tom.

  “You see,” Tom said, “we have to think this through.”

  “Think what through?” Diana said. “That man killed my brother.”

  “The man . . . or the woman?” Tom asked.

  Diana sat silent.

  “You said that the woman was in your house. Perhaps she was looking for your brother’s pictures because she was the one who actually killed him. At this point we don’t know. If we go in we go in prepared to do whatever’s necessary. In other words we go in prepared to kill. They’ll defend themselves and we’ll do the same. It would be nice to know that we’re not killing any innocent people in the process. It would also be nice to know that the evidence is there to convict your brother’s killer and explain the circumstances of his death. When we do go in we won’t hold anything back. That’s why we try to be as certain as we can before we move.”

  “How can we do that?” Diana asked, impatiently.

  “Why don’t you enjoy your sandwich,” Hector said. “Let your food digest a little. Enjoy your drink. Then we can take a few minutes and plan something.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Agoura Way, Laguna Hills

  Monday, 11:38 p.m.

  “So we’re decided then, Chief?” Hector said.

  “We are,” Dietrich answered. “I’ll get the warrant from Judge Kyle and pick up Bill Brighton. Tom and Diana will go in as advisors to consult on the investigation and to help identify whatever the four of us can find. You’ll stay out on the road and watch the clock. We should bring Alec and the woman out in just a few minutes, but give us a full half hour. If we haven’t surfaced by then, tell the backups to stand by. We’ll have a half dozen squad cars within a quarter mile of the house and choppers just over the ridge. At forty-five minutes the dismounteds will come in and the choppers will be in the air—earlier if there’s any suspicious movement.”

  “Will you arrest him?” Diana asked.

  “That depends on what we find,” Dietrich answered. “At the very least he’ll be taken in for extensive questioning while we take a long, slow look at his house. We’ll have our own interrogation team ready and the French and English police available by phone. We’ll be able to hold him for hours while we do a thorough search of the house and grounds.”

  “Or hold her,” Tom added. “Or both of them.”

  “Right,” Dietrich said.

  “Hector can’t go in with us since she’s already seen him,” Tom said, “but I like having him outside as backup.”

  “How soon? Tomorrow?” Diana asked.

  “More likely the day after,” Dietrich said. I have to reach the judge, the DA, the feds and the British and French. In the meantime, you and Tom should have a long look at the blueprints of the house before going in. Hector, Bill and I have already studied them.”

  “When will you know?”

  “Give me a couple of hours at least. It may take a little while to reach the British and French police. You two should get some rest in the meantime.” Tom nodded in agreement and started to get up.

  “Where are you going?” Diana asked.

  “There’s not enough room for all of us here,” he answered. “Besides, you could probably use some privacy for a change.”

  “Where will you stay?” she asked Tom.

  “If there’s no one suspicious in the area I’ll stay on my boat.”

  “I’m going with you,” she said.

  Hector and Dietrich watched for Tom’s response.

  “I think you’ll be safer here,” he said.

  “I’d rather go with you.”

  “OK. Let’s go then,” he said.

  Hector took his car keys out of his pocket and handed them to Tom. “It’s just down the street,” he said, “on the south side, about a block and a half.”

  Tom smiled, thanked him, and patted Dietrich on the side of his arm with his open hand. He was already on the phone. “I’ll call you in the morning,” Tom said to Hector. Dietrich raised his hand in a gesture of good-bye as they opened the door to leave.

  As they drove down to the marina Diana was staring straight ahead into the headlights of the oncoming traffic, but her left hand was on Tom’s leg. “Are you all right?” she asked. “Are you ready for this?”

  “What do you mean?” he answered.

  “You were rubbing your head and neck when we were walking toward Hector’s car.”

  “I’m just a little stiff. I’ll be OK. Sometimes when I sit too long in one position I have to work it out a little.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes, I am, but thanks for asking.”

  The streets were clear around the marina. Tom checked in with the harbor master before going to his boat.

  “What was that all about?” Diana asked, as they walked to Tom’s slip.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The whispering.”

  “Oh, I asked him if he had seen anyone suspicious around. He said no one other than the usual boaters. He also said that he won’t say anything about you being here. I think he must be worried about your reputation.”

  “That’s very gentlemanly of him,” Diana said.

  The lock on the partition between the cabin and the aft section of the boat had not been disturbed. Tom and Diana entered the cabin and Tom slid the sunlight-blocking drapes in place before turning on the light. “You can have the first shower,” he said.

  “Do you think I need it?”

  “No, but I thought you’d like one.”

  “You’re right. Before that, let me see the back of your head,” Diana said.

  Tom sat down on one of the chairs outside the galley, turning his head toward the wall lamp.

  “It looks irritated,” Diana said. “Are you sure it doesn’t hurt?”

  “It doesn’t. Really.”

  “How’s your vision
?”

  “Fine.”

  “Stay there,” she said, getting a moist washcloth and a dry towel. She daubed at the incision for several minutes and then dried it with the towel, rinsing out the wash cloth and repeating the process in areas adjacent to it. “Where’s that salve they gave you?”

  He poked around in his bag, found the tube, and handed it to her.

  Her look and tone were skeptical. “This is over-the-counter stuff; it’s not going to do very much.” She smoothed it on with her fingertip, gently and thoroughly. “Just let it dry,” she said. “I’ll check it again in a little while.”

  “Thanks,” he said.

  “You’re welcome,” she answered, as she returned the towel and wash cloth to the head. She seemed fresh and rested. He found himself following her every move as she hung the wash cloth to dry and slipped the towel beside it. When she turned she realized he’d been watching her.

  Without saying anything she slipped off her skirt and blouse, walked toward him, sat down beside him on the edge of the bed and kissed him on the cheek. “Move over, Detective,” she said. “I’m not going to spend this night alone, particularly when it could be our last.”

  An hour and a half later as she fell asleep beside him he stared at the glow at the edge of the drapes and the faint shadows cast by the nightlight. He thought of the other women he’d known, all special in their own ways. None were quite like Diana. She was attractive and intelligent but most of all she was driven—not just by events, but also in her dreams and desires. She showed him everything and yet in certain ways she showed him nothing. He had talked to her, held her and been held by her, shared her search and now something more. He wondered what would be left when that search was over. He was useful to her now, but they were walking into the dark and there was no way to know what they would find there or whether they would emerge together afterwards.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  The Harbor at Dana Point

  Tuesday 6:53 a.m.

  “Where do we stand, Hector?” Tom was sitting on the side of the bed, cradling the phone against his shoulder as he slipped on his shoes and socks. Diana was standing in the head, drying her face. When Tom looked up at her she returned his smile.

  “The Chief’s going to pick up the warrant from the judge and return to us here at the safe house. Brighton’s on his way. With the Chief running point all the barriers fell. We’re clear with the DA’s office and with the Orange County Sheriff’s Department. The interrogation team is in place and they’re ready to start. The French and English police are standing by. The choppers will be ready and the backup’s been assigned. Brighton has been checking on the equipment and I’ve been going over the architectural drawings of the house one last time.”

  “So we’re going in today?”

  “Yes. We’re shooting for 9:30. We don’t want him to think he’s being rousted in the middle of the night. He might get jumpy, do something dangerous. Both the Chief and the Lieutenant thought it would be best to lowkey it and I agree. The cavalry will be just around the corner if we need them. How soon can you get here?”

  “Just a second.” He checked with Diana and then got back on the phone. “We’ll be there by twenty after seven.”

  “Good. We’ll take you through the drawings and you can work with Brighton on weapons and equipment.”

  “Has he got flashlights, Hector?”

  “Yes. I talked to him about ten minutes ago. He mentioned that he had just changed the batteries.”

  “How about rope?”

  “Yes, but there’s only so much you can put in the bottom of a briefcase.”

  “Matches?”

  “Relax, Tom, the Lieutenant will have everything, even down to the flares and knives.”

  “Have you got your usual collection of unauthorized weapons?”

  “I’ve always got those.”

  “We’ll see you in a few minutes then.”

  Diana was at the foot of the bed, dressing. She was wearing a sports bra and a tanktop for extra warmth, then a sweater with long sleeves over dark slacks. She put on a poplin jacket but when she looked in the mirror she thought it was too informal. She put it back in her bag and took out a wool blazer.

  She watched Tom as he slid a turtleneck sweater over a long-sleeved tee shirt, trying to detect any hints of pain as the fabric passed over his head. He put on leather shoes with rubber soles, and a loose-fitting, wool sports jacket.

  “Going for the yuppie rather than the burglar look?” she asked.

  “Yes. The trick is to keep him thinking we know less than we do. If we can keep him from reacting at the house we can get him out of there quickly and have him taken downtown. That gives us free rein to go through his place without him calling in reinforcements or setting off any protective devices.”

  “You mean explosives.”

  “Possibly, but I doubt that he’d want to destroy his own place, particularly if the art is there. There might be something else—gas, for example.” He paused, then spoke again.

  “When we’re there . . .”

  “Yes?” Diana responded.

  “I really don’t want you in the middle of it.”

  “Why shouldn’t I be in the middle of it? It’s my brother they killed.”

  “Call me selfish.”

  “Don’t you want to see me happy?”

  “Yes, but I don’t want to see you hurt or worse.”

  “I’ll be all right. Will Lieutenant Brighton allow me to use my personal weapon?”

  “Reluctantly, yes. What you or he doesn’t have, Hector will.”

  The oncoming traffic was steady as they drove up into the Hills—principally people leaving for work, a few cars full of kids getting an early start for beaches and parks, an SUV or two with golfers in bright-colored shirts with visors and ballcaps, boyfriends heading home after an extended weekend, kids beginning a day of unplanned drifting and cruising.

  Tom noticed the unmarked vans on opposite sides and opposite ends of the street as he turned into the driveway of the safe house. He parked the car in the space on the side of the garage. Diana was out before he could open the door for her and together they climbed the porch steps at the rear of the house. Tom raised his hand to knock but the door opened before his knuckles hit the frame. Hector handed him a cup of coffee when he entered the kitchen. “Dr. Bennett?” he said.

  “Coffee, thanks,” she answered. “Where’s the Chief?”

  “In the dining room with the Lieutenant.”

  “I’ll get my coffee and join them.”

  When she returned with the steaming-hot coffee, Tom and the Chief were going over the architectural drawings of the house. Brighton was sitting opposite them; he had a street map. “Hector will be here . . .” (pointing) “and we’ll enter . . . here. We’ll have the other units on these side streets . . . here . . . and there. The choppers will be in the fields below the eastern slope of the elevation. We don’t want him to hear them coming in. If we need them we can call them in in a matter of seconds.”

  Tom looked closely, fixing the street names in his memory and estimating distances. “It’s pretty steep around there, no place to land the choppers.”

  “No, we’d use them to follow him if he tried to make a break,” Brighton said.

  “If he had the firepower to get past our people.”

  “Yes. Sometimes they help to intimidate. They make inexperienced people jumpy. They could give us an edge.”

  Tom checked his watch. It was 8:17. “Let’s have one last cup of coffee and then saddle up,” the Chief said.

  “Bill and I will go in,” Dietrich said. “I’ll do the talking. They’ll know this is hardly routine but I want it to appear to be as routine as possible. If they see a lot of people they might bolt and start firing. As soon as we get Alec and his people out of there I’ll hand
them over to the backup to bring downtown. Then you two can come in and we’ll start going through the house.”

  Diana looked at Tom. “It was our understanding that we could go in at the outset.”

  “Too dangerous,” Dietrich said. “Perps don’t like crowds.”

  “Perps like numbers in their favor though,” Tom said. “If there are only two of you and a half dozen of them you’ll be squeezed.”

  “And if you go in with a squad of police they might open up immediately,” Diana said.

  “Dr. Bennett . . .” Dietrich said, lowering his voice, “I appreciate your courage but you must also appreciate the fact of your inexperience.”

  “So will they,” Diana responded. “They may be less guarded.”

  “Bill?” Dietrich said, soliciting an opinion.

  “They’re both still alive,” he answered.

  Dietrich took a deep drink of his black coffee, then put down the cup. “OK,” he said, “but no heroics. Understood?”

  He took their nods as Hector stepped outside the room for a second. Tom noticed him checking on something in his pocket, outside of Dietrich’s line of sight. He was dressed in dark brown twill pants, a brown turtleneck, and a loose tan jacket. When he was satisfied that he had everything, he stepped back in and said, “Everybody about ready?”

  “Let’s do it,” Dietrich said. “Let’s be smart and cautious and do this by the book, but let’s also take this guy down.”

  “And remember what I said,” he added, “no heroics.” Hector looked at him and smiled. “I didn’t mean you,” Dietrich said.

  Chapter Fifty

  San Clemente

  Tuesday, 9:28 a.m.

  Seaview Lane wound its way along the inland side of a steep hillside; it was no more than a lane and a half wide, with security walls and entry gates wedged against its curbs and angled tributaries spoking from the main road, all marked Private Drive in bold letters. Above them the sharp blue of the coastal sky was punctuated by a handful of clouds, all moving east rapidly, as if they suspected something violent was about to occur and they wanted no part of it. By the time they approached the end of the lane and Alec’s property they could see silver glimmers on the Pacific and the edge of the distant horizon.