The Captain, for his part, was tired of reading about the drugs and murders in the papers. The whole thing had gone so awry. Who would have thought that their lucrative, smooth-running operation could so suddenly come off the rails? He fervently hoped they could put things right without any more mistakes. The more he thought about it, the more he felt the Jamaican was at the root of his problems. He was the only link to him. If we’re going to take out the detective, what difference if we take out the Jamaican? Might as well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb. Wasn’t that how the expression went? Should he mention it to his cousin? He began to muse about how they could get to the Jamaican while he was in the hospital before he had a chance to talk any further. Or was it too late? He began to feel that the Jamaican had probably already made a deal and had spilled as much information as he had.
He got on to his computer and began moving money around. He had bank accounts in several countries and in several currencies. As he took care of business, he began to feel panicky. What if they raid my house and take my computer? Suddenly, he made up his mind. It was time to get off the island until things cooled down. He got on the internet and began to see what flights would take him to Saint Lucia. He could always tell his wife he was going to Fort Lauderdale to look at a yacht for a client. Yes, it was time to clear out for a while. The only thing was that he would have to stay for the dinner for his cousin. It would look very strange if he was not there to see him receive his award. No, he would have to fly out right after that. The decision made, he felt much calmer.
Chapter 40
“Leon, just who is this?” Nana, hand on hip, was taking a good look at Burgess’s escort before opening the screen door.
“Nana, can you open up? This is Officer Max I was telling you about. Actually, it’s really Officer Maxine. Max, shake hands!”
The enormous German Shepherd dutifully raised her paw.
“Oh, what good manners!” Nana was clearly impressed but still a little uncomfortable in the presence of the officer from the Canine Division. “Is this the officer who needs a place to stay for a few days?”
“That’s right, Nana. Her owner has to take a trip for a few days and asked if we could look after Max. She’s no trouble and it will be nice company for you.” Burgess hated lying to his grandmother and had wrestled with the decision not to tell her why he had “seconded” Officer Max to guard duty.
“Leon, you’ve been acting strangely since yesterday and I had a call this morning from Coral Cement for directions to the house to deliver a load of gravel. Now, are you going to tell me what’s going on or do I have to beat it out of you? I know when you’re up to something and I don’t have a good feeling about this.”
Officer Max went over to the corner of the kitchen and lay down with her head on her paws, obviously recognizing that a family dispute was about to take place. She then quietly closed her eyes and went “off duty” leaving the Detective Inspector to sort things out with his grandmother.
Burgess’s heart sank. There was no putting anything over on Nana. She was just too smart. It was time to sit down with her and tell her what the situation was. He hoped that it would not upset her. His subterfuge had only been to avoid her any worry. He knew she would understand that his motives had been noble. However, nothing was worse than a full-on row with Nana.
“Nana, if you give me some of that pie and a cup of coffee, I’ll tell you all about it.”
“Okay, dear. Do you think Officer Max would like some pie too?”
Burgess smiled. Officer Max’s ears had pricked up clearly ready for any tidbits Nana had to offer.
They both sat at the kitchen table with their coffee and pie while Burgess recounted the events from beginning to end. Nana was fascinated at the depth of the investigation and obviously concerned for the safety of her grandson. At the end of the conversation, Nana was totally on board with the idea of a gravel border around the sides of the house and reluctantly agreed to house Officer Max. Her only protest was that she felt Burgess should have the dog with him at home, in case anybody tried to break in.
“No Nana. I’d feel a lot happier if Officer Max stayed with you. You can always send her down, if you’re worried.”
“Okay, dear. Let’s see how it works out and don’t you be worrying about me. I can take care of myself.”
“Nana, it was either Officer Max or Archie… and you know how much mess Archie makes!”
“Alright, honey. Now leave that nice boy out of this. At least I don’t need to take Archie for a walk. Which makes me think… I’ll need you to take Officer Max for walks for me. I don’t think I can walk fast or far enough to keep such a big dog exercised.”
Burgess was happy with the way the conversation was going. He was also impressed with how Nana was taking all of this.
“Don’t worry, Nana. I’ll take her jogging with Jacintha and me in the mornings. That should start her day okay.”
“Fine with me. Now, tell me all about things with Jacintha. How are you and she getting along?”
Burgess sighed. Nana was now going to give him the third degree. There was no escaping it this time. She looked at him and giggled her irrepressible giggle. When Nana laughed, it took years off her. Just then, they heard a honk and, looking out the window, saw a huge dump truck full of gravel coming down the driveway. Burgess secretly gave thanks for the excellent timing of Coral Cement.
Chapter 41
The Forensic Computer Lab was everything the police station was not: light, airy, high tech with a lot of glass and computer equipment. They even had an espresso machine. Bunch of sissies are sitting around drinking cappuccinos, for Chrissake. Gonzalez could not believe the contrast and had to bite his tongue so as not to say something inappropriate.
Contrary to his expectations, Aaron Jacobs was no computer nerd. He wore jeans and a tee shirt under his white lab coat. He wore his hair long, curling at his collar and looked more like a teen soap star than an FCL technician. In fact, he reminded him a little of Joey on “Friends.” He was ready to judge him like Joey too, until the young computer expert began to explain what he had been doing.
“The boy’s a brain,” he whispered to Hofstein.
Jacobs was in full stride. “There’s a lot of stuff in code. I have come to the conclusion that it’s one of those codes that you can’t break unless you know what book he’s referring to. You know, they might refer to a page number, sentence number and word number of a specific book to indicate the word. When you searched the lab, were there any books there that you could perhaps send over? What we need to do is match a book in the lab with, say, a book at the dealer’s office or home. I know it’s a long shot, but it’s the only thing I can think of at the moment. Look at all of this, I think it may be routes, countries, ship names, timetables etc. of shipments but I have no way of figuring them out without the key.”
“Okay, let me get this straight,” said Hofstein. “We need to go over the inventory of items from the drug lab and see if there are any books. Then we need to go over the items in Cujo’s -”
“Cujo? You mean like that mad dog in the movie?”
“Yes, Cujo’s apartment and see if there’s a book that matches one in the lab.”
“Yes, Detective, You’ve got it. That’s what I need to try and break this code. I’m pretty sure that there will be more than one copy of a certain book lying around so that this Cujo guy can check up on whoever it is writing the code for him.”
Gonzalez felt a glimmer of hope. “Aaron, my friend, we’re on it. Come on, Hof, I think there’s time for that beer after all. We’re going to need to order takeout tonight, if we’re going to be going through the evidence inventories.”
Hofstein got up. “Aaron, thanks. We’ll get back to you as soon as we have that book for you. Wish us luck!” He waved to the young man as he steered Gonzalez past the espresso machine and out the front door. Jacobs waved back fervently hoping that it was a book that held the key or he would have two really large, re
ally angry detectives to deal with later.
Chapter 42
Frenchie uttered a low whistle as he saw the list of gun and ammunition requirements left at the agreed drop-off point. He knew something big must be going down but had no concrete evidence as to what and for whom. If he had to put his money on it, he would guess that it had something to do with the Captain yet, since most of his instructions came in writing, he had no way of knowing who was really at the end of them and, if the truth be told, he preferred it that way. As far as he was concerned, the less he knew, the better. However, this was pretty sophisticated stuff and he wondered if the rumour of a hit man was true. He had also heard stories of a plot to kill off the Jamaican before he went to trial. How much of this was just smoke without fire was anybody’s guess but, in Frenchie’s opinion, it was best to take heed of anything coming down the pipeline. Secretly, he was quite pleased with himself because, if this was a list from a professional assassin, he was going to be impressed that he could get it all here. Frenchie was a resourceful man and had quite a stockpile of illegal weapons from the most mundane to the patently sophisticated. It just so happened that he had more than one Russian made Tokarev with the 7.62 x 25mm cartridges to go with them. In fact, he had quite a stash of the cartridges since they could be used with several Soviet and Czech submachine guns. He knew that even though most firearms chambered in this calibre had been declared obsolete and removed from military inventories, some Russian police and special forces units still used it over the 9mm Makarov ammunition due to its superior penetration. At least they were straight cartridges without special loadings. That was one thing he did not have: armour piercing, tracer and incendiary rounds. There just was not the market for them and, in any event, those were simply too difficult to smuggle into the island and not worth the jail time - or potential public lynching - if ever caught. Even Frenchie had his limits.
He hid the list in a cash box which he then locked and deposited in a safe hidden under a rug in the floor of his office. Later this evening, he would visit his cache and put together the package. Nobody knew where he kept his weaponry and he intended to keep it that way. He would then leave a message at the drop-off point giving instructions for payment and pick up. He’d make a tidy sum for less than an hour’s work. The thought made him smile.
Back at Cherry Hill, Nana was pleased with the way the gravel was looking. She almost thought it an improvement to the yard. She and Officer Max were walking around the house collecting the empty lemonade glasses from the men from Coral Cement and inspecting their work. She was enjoying having the dog and noticed she had been chatting non-stop to her as if she really understood everything. I’d better not do that too much or they’ll say I’m losing it and send me to St. Brendan’s or whatever it’s called these days. Nana was of the old guard and still referred to everything by its old name, the local psychiatric hospital was no exception. She chuckled to herself and Officer Max came running up and thrust her wet nose into her hand. Nana was getting used to the size of the animal and becoming more and more comfortable with her. At first she had worried that she would knock her over and she might break an arm or her hip, but she soon realized that the dog was very gentle, even careful with her. So, together they walked back up the steps to the main house, Nana resting her hand on Officer Max’s back to steady herself as she made her way up the stairway. She then put on the radio for the People’s Corner and Officer Max settled into her favourite place on the kitchen tiles for a little shut-eye. Officer Max already knew that this was the time of day when Nana would make a cup of tea and share a couple of cookies with her. She really liked this assignment.
Chapter 43
Gonzalez and Hofstein instinctively realized that they were now at a turning point in the case. Both had a heightened sense of hope that they would break the back of the investigation fairly shortly. They had worked late into the evening the night before going back into Cujo’s two apartments and his South Beach house coming up with one particular book that had also been found in the lab. It had been relatively easy to find as it was the type of book you would never think to find in the home of a drug lord and it was certainly out of place in a drug lab. The book that they were sure was the key to the code was “La Casa de los Espiritus” or “The House of Spirits” by Isabel Allende. It was considered a classic amongst both Spanish and English speaking readers and stood out amongst the murder mysteries, lightweight porn and frothy romance novels (the latter favoured, they imagined, by his now deceased girlfriend) that were scattered around his homes. They sent a copy over to Aaron Jacobs at the FCL who had become, as far as they were both concerned, their “new best friend” and were anxiously waiting to hear back from him.
Hofstein looked across from his desk to Gonzalez. “Do you think we’ll ever catch this Cujo guy, now that he knows we’re on to him?”
“Dunno, Hof. If I were him, I’d be sitting on some beach in Grand Cayman with a brand new face by now. I think his days in Miami are numbered.”
“I guess it all depends on how greedy he is and whether there’s more dope coming in that he wants to get his hands on. He must have taken a big hit after we confiscated all the drugs in the lab. I wonder if he has more labs too. Have you seen all of the interview reports yet? I’d like to have a look at some more of them.”
Gonzalez lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. He then took his time to blow out the smoke through his nose before replying. “I think that’s a great idea. We may see something we can follow up on. I’ll call down and have them sent up. Sure beats waiting.” He reached for his phone and dialled. Both knew that it was a long shot, but they had nothing to lose.
In the Forensic Computer Lab, Aaron Jacobs was methodically running all sorts of programs on his computers using “La Casa de Los Espiritus” as his key. He knew it would take a while before he hit on the right combination but relished the challenge of breaking the code. He had a sixth sense for knowing when something “felt right” and he was confident that they had the key. He wondered whether the communications would be in Spanish or English. He would have to consider that additional complication and try and pinpoint the correct language. Right now he was in his element: totally focused and enjoying every moment of this project. God, how he loved a puzzle. He also knew that if he broke the code, a promotion would surely be in order. Not that he needed that as motivation. He just loved to pit his skills against a worthy adversary. In high school and college, Jacobs had never excelled at sport. He had instead relied on his good looks and cool dress code to win friends, in particular, girls. In those days, he had taken great pains to camouflage his almost genius IQ so as not to be labelled a nerd. Now, he enjoyed his “whiz kid” status in the FCL and particularly enjoyed it when new people looked at his GQ clothes assuming he was a lightweight. It was never long before they discovered their mistake. When it came to computers, he could run circles around all of them.
He kept checking his programs and keying in alternative information. At some point, he knew that he would begin to crack the code and when he did, he would work non-stop to give the detectives the information they needed to track down the members of the drug ring. It was like any jigsaw puzzle, once you had the corner pieces and could build a framework, the rest of the picture filled in fairly quickly. He just had to find the right permutations to locate those corner pieces. He knew he would find them and then the chase would begin to find the more elusive pieces that made up the body of the puzzle. However, this was going to take some time, so he went over to the espresso machine and made himself a cup of strong coffee. He needed to stay alert. He then took out the English version of “La Casa de los Espiritus”, put his feet up on his desk and began to read. Hell, it was one way to pass the time and he had heard that this was a damn good read.
He wasn’t sure how long he had been dozing when he was awakened by a ding on the computer confiscated from the drug lab. Instantly alert, he raced over to check on it scarcely believing his eyes… incoming mail! As he open
ed the e-mail, his spirits fell as he saw it was encoded. Well, at least he could start to trace its origin even if he had no idea what it said. He began to type furiously, absolutely in his element. Nothing would stop him now. He would pursue his quarry like a hound after a fox. Jacobs could be relentless.
Square Snapper (Detective Inspector Burgess) Page 16
