The Fixer, Season 1

by Rex Carpenter

  He raised his head. Looked straight at the tablet and the camera he knew was embedded into the bezel around the screen. Deep in his heart he let go. Let the violence in his soul course through his veins. Let the mask slip from his face, lips curled back in a vicious snarl, mimicking a smile. Bloodied teeth, split lips, broken nose, left eye swollen shut. Stripped nearly naked, hanging from a chain attached to the ceiling in an abandoned warehouse. Beaten for hours, tortured, JC’s lips curled back in a vicious snarl, mimicking a smile. I am going to kill this man. Once and for all, he thought.

  “Of course,” JC Bannister nearly growled. “You’re The Mexican.”

  Chapter 41

  You’ll Get to Pick Up the Dead Bodies

  “You know what, I think this is a pretty bad idea,” Karen said.

  Theo had talked his way into a conference room in the security headquarters of the Hollywood & Highland Center. The room, although small, had a dedicated internet connection. It was used during the Academy Awards and other performances by reporters and bloggers. It wasn’t luxurious, but it had a white board, a table with chairs and high-speed internet access. It was all they needed.

  Except for Karen’s acceptance of the plan.

  And she wasn’t budging.

  Duke had tried to convince her. Joan and Theo had tried as well. But she was steadfastly refusing to allow them to use her laptop to access the LAPD computer system. She explained what it would mean if it got traced back to her: at the very least she would be suspended. Likely lose her badge. Possibly go to jail.

  “Not a risk I’m willing to take,” she said. “No matter how great the reward.”

  Joan was losing what little patience she had. She could force the laptop from her. Torture her to give them the password. But that would open up too many gigantic cans of worms to ever close. Plus, Duke would hate her forever. She needed a different tactic.

  “Karen, we need this. JC will die if we don’t,” Joan said.

  “There has to be a better way,” Garcia said.

  “If there was, don’t you think we would have done it already?”

  Karen said nothing. Stared back. Waiting.

  “Duke. Theo. Give us a minute,” Joan said.

  Duke and Theo glanced at each other quickly. They were in a windowless room, hidden inside a building where nobody actually knew who they were. Karen likely hadn’t told anyone where she was going. Which meant Joan could actually do anything she wanted right now and not have to deal with repercussions for some time. If ever.

  “Uhh, Joan?” Theo said.

  Joan ignored him. Looked directly at Duke. “I’m asking you to give us a minute, Duke. Please don’t make me stop asking.”

  Duke looked at his teammate for about twenty seconds. Evaluating.

  “We’ll be right outside,” he said to Joan. Turned to Karen. Garcia nodded to him. An officer of the law. Strong. Confident.

  She had no idea what Joan was capable of.

  Duke returned her nod. Looked backwards over his shoulder at Joan as he walked out the door, followed by Theo. Theo closed the door quietly behind him.

  Karen didn’t sit. Her laptop was sitting open on the table. She stood near it. Waited.

  “Listen, Karen,” Joan started, “do you have any idea who kidnapped JC?”

  Karen shrugged. “Our reports and preliminary evidence suggests it was a group from Latin America, possibly Mexican. Kidnappings for ransom are big in that part of the world. There have been increased incidences of them in California, Arizona, Texas. Probably the same thing.”

  Lots of words but no information. Joan shook her head at how little they knew. And how long it would take them to find out.

  “I know who it was,” Joan said. “I know where they are from. I know who ordered it. I saw the face of the man who was in charge of the action today. I saw the weapon he was carrying, a specialty item that will give you hints and further evidence to possibly tie him to other crimes.”

  “Then what the hell are we waiting for?” Karen picked up her laptop, heading for the door. “We’ll put you with a sketch artist, start running down names and associations, do financial background checks of people we find.”

  Joan put her hand on Karen’s arm. Stopped her.

  “We do that and JC is dead. No hyperbole here. He will be dead. His body will be found before you finish your investigation. You’re left with nothing.”

  Karen turned. Waited for the hard sell.

  “Or,” Joan said, “You can let us use your laptop. Let Duke and Theo and I do what we do best and find JC. Alive. You come along, swoop in and get the glory of capturing whoever is left alive. Could be a big help to you.” Paused. “I know what it’s like. Woman working in a man’s world. Always trying extra hard, sometimes too hard, to show them you’re just as capable as they are. This could be good for you. If you make the right call.”

  Karen looked at Joan. Although Joan tried to hide it, the fear for JC was getting the best of her. Action helped push it down. Doing something helped it dissipate. But standing here, doing nothing, waiting. The fear and worry began to show in her eyes.

  “You’re worried about him,” Karen said. “You care for him, don’t you?”

  Joan’s face hardened. She hadn’t wanted anyone to see that.

  “I’m not going to help you unless I know what I’m dealing with here, Joan,” Karen said.

  “You don’t understand. You couldn’t.”

  “Try me.”

  Joan shook her head. Turned away from Karen. Tired of the games. The waiting. She needed it to end. She needed to find JC. Thought back to Prague. To what JC had told her. What he had said. After. After he had taken his gun away from her head. Decocked the trigger. Granted mercy to her when she was undeserving of it. When most in their profession wouldn’t have. A principled man whose principles saved her life.

  No women. No children.

  “Try me,” Karen said again.

  “He gave me life,” Joan said.

  “I get it,” Garcia said. “He’s your boss. He gave you a good job and you want to protect him. Repay him.”

  Joan whirled. “No! You don’t get it.” She shoved her face inches from Karen’s. “He. Gave. Me. Life.” Her voice caught. Lower lip trembled slightly. “And I will burn this city. To the ground! So I can find him.”

  Karen stood her ground but her shock was visible.

  “It’s very simple, Detective Garcia,” Joan continued, calmer but still forceful. “You can help us and improve your future prospects by doing so. Or you can walk away and do nothing. Let a good man die.”

  There’s a third way, Joan thought. But the third way was of the burned bridges, scorched earth variety. Very messy. Very bloody. And it would destroy the team.

  Now was Joan’s turn to say nothing. Let Karen decide. Say nothing until the silence became uncomfortable. Then continue to wait. Until the other person gave in.

  Joan wondered if she had the patience to wait that long.

  “Okay,” Karen said, “but I come with you. Nobody gets killed. I get to make the arrests.”

  Joan’s hand was on the doorknob before Karen had finished, calling in Duke and Theo. She knew what Karen wanted. Knew the arrests and headlines were what the woman was seeing in the back of her mind. Knew that she would likely get none of it. Not if Joan had her way.

  No, Detective Garcia, Joan said to herself as Duke and Theo came into the room to prepare for their search, you’ll get to pick up the dead bodies.

  *****

  Humberto stepped forward and punched JC in the side of the head again. JC’s body didn’t spin in the air. His muscles and tendons had stretched just enough that his feet were able to get a barely adequate purchase on the concrete to keep him in place. JC thought about kicking Humberto, but it would gain him nothing. Better to conserve his strength for what was likely to come.

  Besides. He could always kill the man later. Add him to the list. Humberto would likely die before The Mexican. But he w
as still going to die.

  “You know better, JC. You do not refer to Señor Gutierrez by that stupid nickname.”

  Born into poverty in Bolivia, Carlos Gutierrez Machado was the son of a Bolivian father and a Mexican mother. Given the nickname of The Mexican because of his mother’s place of birth, Señor Gutierrez fought against it every day of his life. As he climbed the criminal ladder in the Bolivian underworld, the nickname was not used in his presence unless one wanted to put their life in jeopardy. It was still used behind his back. And when someone wanted an easy insult. Like JC wanted now.

  “Señor Gutierrez,” he said, “this is how you allow your hired help to treat an honored guest?” Smiled. “Your organization must be slipping.”

  Humberto stepped forward to punch JC again, but a quick word from Gutierrez stopped him. JC needed everyone to stop punching him. Needed a minute to collect his thoughts.

  “Don Gutierrez,” JC said, using the honorific title that would usually be used for an older man, especially one as powerful, rich and violent as The Mexican. “Perhaps we can dispense with all these unpleasantries and have a simple conversation. You obviously wanted an audience with me. In the interest of saving time, and saving my own blood, how can I assist you?”

  JC was laying it on thick. But as long as he was talking, he was not getting beaten. Or tortured. Besides, if the Mexican had wanted him dead, he would be already. There was something he wanted. JC guessed what it was but wanted to hear the man say it before he began negotiations.

  Only Don Gutierrez wasn’t speaking.

  JC’s hope slipped a bit when Rodrigo came back into view. Stood far enough away that JC could neither kick nor spit at him. Close enough that JC could see into his eyes. They were sunken so far into his head JC thought for a second they would likely be resting directly against his brain. Or his brain stem. The anatomy of the human head slipped his mind as he saw Rodrigo rest a small gym bag on the floor. JC didn’t know what was inside, but he knew it would not be good for him.

  The Mexican had employed men like Rodrigo over the years. Torturers who had a knack for extracting information. Or causing pain, whichever was the goal for the day. As the skeletal man began withdrawing his tools from the black nylon bag with caution, JC had two disturbing thoughts. The first — How much does this man love his job? The second — Why isn’t The Mexican speaking?

  “Don Gutierrez! What do you want?” JC said, raising his voice. He hoped it sounded mostly angry. Hoped his rising fear was largely absent from his voice.

  “What do I want?” The Mexican said. Rodrigo stopped at the old man’s voice. “What do I want? Let’s see. I’d like the last seven years of my life back. Yes, that would be nice. I’d like to not have spent them in jail, no matter how comfortable I was able to make it for myself. An apology from the man who put me there would be pleasant to hear, but I don’t imagine you’re going to apologize, are you JC?”

  JC smiled slightly.

  “I didn’t think so,” Gutierrez continued. “I’d like my youth returned to me, but that will never happen.” Paused. “However, most of all? Most of all I would like one thing.”

  JC was praying he wouldn’t say, “Your balls on a silver platter.”

  “I want the five million dollars you stole from me,” The Mexican said.

  *****

  Karen’s laptop was up and running. Duke and Theo had been taking turns operating it. Currently Theo was at the computer while Duke paced around the room. Joan sat at Theo’s side while Karen leaned against the door to the conference room.

  For the past twenty-five minutes Duke and Theo had been using her laptop as an access point to the grid of cameras across Los Angeles County. Starting with the camera at the intersection closest to the pancake house where JC had been kidnapped, the boys had worked forward, reviewing feeds and digital copies of the images captured from the various types of surveillance equipment across the city. As the two Cadillac Escalades had moved over the Hollywood Hills and into the San Fernando Valley, the search had slowed down. Gaining access to the LAPD system with a police laptop was one thing. Hacking into the systems of neighboring cities with an LAPD laptop was something altogether different. In the end, Duke had the idea of cloning the identifying information from her laptop, uploading it to his personal network of servers and using the laptop to control Duke’s own far more powerful computer network to gain access to the cameras and feeds they needed. It was clumsy and left footprints that a high school computer enthusiast could follow, but it would hopefully do what needed to be done. Duke, and Karen, would deal with the fallout at a later date.

  Problem was they were running into a dead end. The first issue was the lack of usable feeds. The further into the urban areas the vehicles went, the less surveillance there was. Being able to hack into security cameras and ATM feeds was beyond the level of access they could reasonably do at this point. Government agencies could, but the team, working off of a borrowed laptop in a commandeered media office couldn’t. Not with the time constraints they were dealing with.

  The second issue was the preponderance of black Cadillac SUVs in the greater Los Angeles metropolitan area. More than once they found themselves tracking down a vehicle they thought belonged to the kidnappers only to see the startled picture of a soccer mom or well-dressed business man in the red-light camera image grabs.

  “Where are we?” Joan asked.

  Theo slowly shook his head from side to side. “Best guess is I have them somewhere in Northeast L.A., near an elementary school. But traffic cameras get so sparse it’s next to impossible to continue tracking them. If we could follow his cellphone signal or something, maybe we could find out where he is. Maybe have my connections spread out and try to find him that way. Other than that?” Theo raised his hands slightly from the keyboard to show his lack of ideas and frustration.

  It was a feeling Joan shared. She was afraid of this. If the kidnappers had taken JC too far away, he would be lost. Her only hope had been the Bolivians needing to question him quickly. If it was an extraction to another location, he might never be found.

  She stood. Walked over to the white board. Picked up a chair and swung it at the board, toppling it and cracking it at the same time. Karen moved to calm things down but Joan looked at her. Raised one finger. Karen leaned back against the door.

  “Holy crap!” Duke yelled. Ran from across the room at Theo, lowered his shoulder to knock his friend from the chair in front of the computer. Theo scooted out of his way at the last second as Duke slid into the spot. Started clicking away at the keyboard. Hunched over. Maniacal.

  “Duke?” Joan said.

  Duke didn’t answer. He was lost in his discovery.

  Joan walked over and smacked him in the back of the head. He didn’t budge. Didn’t slow down.

  “JC’s still got the camera,” he said.

  Garcia came off the door. Stood. Joan looked at him quizzically.

  “Holy crap!” Theo exclaimed just as Duke had. “The camera!” He looked at Joan, ignoring Karen.

  “The camera setup we had. I was wearing it at our last meeting. Remember? The General complained about it, so JC took it off of me. He put it in his pocket.” Joan kept looking at Theo, waiting for the good news. Theo continued, exasperated. “We haven’t had a chance to shut it down. Which means it’s been recording this whole time! Uploading the audio and video to Duke’s computers.”

  Joan’s face didn’t change much but there was a glimmer of hope that wasn’t there two minutes ago.

  “Does it have a tracker?” Garcia said.

  “No,” Theo said. “But we can look at how long it’s been recording. Go back and fast forward through the audio to find out where they got out of the vehicles. That will give us a time frame for when they stopped. Compare that with the last known location of the SUVs. That will give us a general location. It’s not perfect, but it’s better than what we have right now.”

  “I’ve got better than that,” Duke said. “All
we have to do is go into my servers, find the location the camera is uploading from. Do a quick search for the location of the signal and we should be able to give us a fairly narrow search area. It won’t give us a pinpoint location, but it will help narrow it down.”

  “How narrowed down are we talking? Mile radius? Half-mile radius?” Karen said.

  “The transmitter is small, so it will be two hundred yards at best. I programmed it to hijack and piggyback on to a cellphone’s signal, so hopefully one of the guys he’s with has a phone that isn’t that secure.”

  Joan smiled. She had hope again. Soon, Duke and Theo would provide her with a target. If Garcia stayed out of her way, she could formulate and execute a plan of action. Of rescue. And retribution.

  Chapter 42

  Perhaps Some Fresca?

  JC was seated again. He looked down at his legs and saw they were a mass of bruises. The boys, under Rodrigo’s direction, had been beating him with rubber hoses. Simply a length of garden hose from a local hardware store cut into two foot lengths. Three shifts of two-man teams lasting two minutes each for less than ten minutes and JC’s legs were in terrible shape. Rodrigo had stopped them and put him back in the chair. Let him rest.

  JC had tried to bargain. Told The Mexican he could get the five million dollars in a matter of days. But Gutierrez had raised the price. With the interest lost, the loss of profit from investments possibly made over the past seven years, plus punitive damages, his old boss put the new price at thirty million dollars.

  “Thirty million dollars?” JC had laughed in spite of his desire not to and his current predicament. “You’ve lost your mind, old man.”

  “Have I?” The Mexican said. “My trusted enforcer takes it upon himself to interject himself in a business deal and run away with the profits? Has me thrown in jail to cover his tracks? I think it’s a fair price, don’t you, Bannister?”