by Mark Nolan
Zhukov lit up a long, thin cigarette that advertised itself as able to make the smoker become a unique and liberated individual as they conformed to peer pressure. He drove the Audi to the exit and put his pre-paid ticket into the card reader, which made the automatic gate lift up so he could drive out. The car pulled through the toll gate, and one of the parking lot guards glanced over and noted a woman who apparently liked the color red. The woman blew a cloud of smoke at him and drove away. The bored guard shrugged and went back to looking at his phone.
Zhukov drove the Audi in an evasive pattern to be sure that nobody was following him. He laughed at how clever he’d been. He felt the sudden urge to make a spontaneous phone call to a number that his computer hacker Elena had given him. He knew he shouldn’t do it, but his manic mood swing was in full bloom so he used a throwaway phone to make the call and he smiled when he heard the person answer.
“Jake Wolfe.”
“Hello Wolfe, you imbecile,” Zhukov said. “I’m the fellow who just shot her highness, the congressman’s wife right on her fat little baby bump. All while wearing a mask that looked just like your ugly face.”
Zhukov laughed loudly, delighted with himself, and then ended the call. He removed the battery from the phone so it couldn’t be used to triangulate his location.
Jake cursed and tried to get back on the other call with Terrell, but his friend was gone. He wondered what to do now. When in doubt, call in a favor. He thought for a moment about who might be the most powerful person he knew, and then he called the number of his contact at the FBI building downtown.
FBI Special Agent Knight was someone Jake had spoken with many times. He’d given Knight tips about federal crimes that he’d come across in his investigative journalism work. On more than one occasion, the information that Jake had provided to the FBI eventually led to arrests and made Knight look good to his bosses. Knight owed Jake a few favors and right now would be a good time to ask for his help.
“Come on Agent Knight, answer your phone,” Jake said. “Please be there when I need you.”
The phone went to voicemail and Jake left a message.
“Agent Knight this is Jake Wolfe. I just got a phone call from a man who claims he was the one who shot Katherine Anderson. He sounded like he had a Russian accent and he called me to gloat about how he wore a facial disguise to look like me. If you hurry and trace the phone that just called my phone a minute before my call to you, it might help you locate the fugitive. I hope that makes sense. Thank you.”
Jake recited his phone number just in case he hadn’t been clear or if the caller ID didn’t work. He ended that call and sent a text message to Terrell, Beth Cushman and Agent McKay with a short version of the same message. McKay’s text came back as not able to be delivered. She must have called him on a land line phone.
Beth Cushman got into her car and looked at the computer display. She saw the APB about Terrell’s friend Jake Wolfe. Her eyebrows went up in surprise. This didn’t make any sense at all. Last night Jake had risked his life while helping Terrell and the SFPD on a homicide case.
Beth’s phone buzzed and she checked her text messages. A cop had sent her a short video clip that was taken from a police vehicle dashboard camera when backup had arrived to help Terrell last night. In the video, a parked car was blown to pieces and a fire hydrant was flooding the area. Terrell was standing next to Jake’s Jeep in front of a destroyed piano store, dressed like a gang member, smoking a cigar and taking a piss on the street. There were hundred dollar bills and fifties and twenties scattered on the ground, and people were running around picking up the cash while officers tried to stop them.
Beth shook her head at the thought of the shenanigans her partner had been up to while she’d been asleep last night. Next, she saw a text message from Jake Wolfe. She stared at the screen for a moment in surprise, reading the text and thinking it through. Probably best not to reply to that text from a wanted fugitive just yet, sorry Jake. She did want to help though. Especially since she knew Terrell was in deep weeds right now due to his friend being a wanted man. Beth thought of an idea that might do some good, so she started the car engine and got back on the road.
Beth drove fast toward the police station, with the siren wailing and the hidden lights flashing from the front grill and the back window. She used a small handheld device to turn all of the traffic lights green so she could run through every intersection. And she kept calling Terrell’s mobile phone on auto speed dial the whole time, but it kept going to voicemail.
“Answer the phone,” Beth said as she drove her car at high speed.
Chapter 70
Sergeant Cori Denton sat at her desk at the police station and looked at an APB on her computer screen that displayed the face of Jake Wolfe. According to the APB, Wolfe was wanted as a suspect in the shooting of a former prosecutor who was the wife of a Congressman and presidential candidate. The pregnant woman had been shot in the stomach. Next to Jake’s face was an image of a note that had been left by the shooter.
The note was on business card size paper with words printed on it in block letters, and it was signed by Jake Wolfe.
THE PROSECUTION RESTS.
Denton pounded her fist on the desk and stood up and shouted. “I knew it! I knew Wolfe was dirty. Look at that. What did I tell you?”
Her partner, Sergeant Kirby, said, “Looks like you were right, Dent.”
“Of course I was right. Ever since I busted Wolfe for that improvised chemical explosive device, I knew that sooner or later he was going to commit another crime.”
“It seemed like you were padding his file with a lot of BS just to make him look bad.”
“And you said I was wasting my time, but now I have this thick file jacket to give to the Chief.”
“Well, it’s your case since you had the previous arrest, and you’ve been working on fabricating… I mean building his jacket,” Kirby said.
“That’s right, it’s my case. Jake Wolfe is mine.” Denton shouted so everyone could hear.
Nobody objected, and Everett the squad boss came over to give orders. “Take the ball and run with it Denton. Show me what you can do. The rest of you do your best to assist Denton on the case and nail this guy quick. The entire nation will be watching us. Let’s show them how we kick ass on crime in San Francisco.”
A sergeant on the other side of the room said, “I have a woman on the phone who saw Wolfe’s face on the television news. She claims he walked up to the outdoor patio of the restaurant where she works, and asked for a table for two, but went inside to wash his hands and never came back out.”
“Get a unit to that restaurant,” Denton said. “Search the nearby shops and businesses.”
Another sergeant said, “Now I have a call from a man who claims Wolfe was in his gift shop next door to that same restaurant, buying several prepaid cell phones with cash.”
“If there are records of the phone numbers of those prepaid phones I want them right now,” Denton said.
Kirby tapped on the computer keyboard. “I’m looking at Wolfe’s financial information, and he used several credit cards to take cash out of the ATM machine in the cocktail lounge attached to that restaurant.”
“Good work, what’s happening with his phone?”
A cop called out, “Wolfe just used his phone a few minutes ago to talk to… Police Lieutenant Terrell Hayes? Right now his phone is currently traveling East at vehicle speed on Bay Street toward Fisherman’s Wharf.”
“Get me into his OnStar so we can hear every sound inside his vehicle,” Denton said. “And access the LoJack so we can pinpoint his exact location and turn off his engine when we pull up behind him.”
A female cop said, “The OnStar and LoJack in his vehicle seem to be disconnected. Also, one of our motorcycle cops just found his Jeep at the Marina Green parking lot, shot full of holes. He may be riding with an accomplice or in a taxi.”
Kirby looked up from studying Wolfe’s emails on his com
puter and said, “He’s living on a boat at a harbor in Sausalito. But for all we know he may have the boat berthed over by Fisherman’s Wharf today, ready for a fast getaway.”
Denton paced back and forth, and as Kirby observed her he noticed that she seemed as if she couldn’t stop herself from doing it.
“Right—he’s heading in that direction and he could also be planning to steal a boat there,” Denton said. “He’ll probably try to escape on the water. Alert harbor security. Stop anyone who tries to get on a boat or leave any harbor in the vicinity. Lock it down.”
“I’ll send the police speed boat there too,” Kirby said.
“Good, yes. What’s their estimated time of arrival?”
“I’m talking to them right now; they were already on the water headed that way. ETA is ten minutes.”
“Get them there in five.”
“You’ve got it.”
“Alert all of the taxi companies that a fugitive may be riding in one of their vehicles going East on Bay Street.”
“Working on it,” a man said.
“Somebody get me on all patrol car radios.”
“Patched in; your mike is hot,” a woman said.
Denton spoke into the microphone. “All units, be advised, suspect Jacob Wolfe is in an unidentified vehicle heading East on Bay Street toward Fisherman’s Wharf. Secure the area and stop anyone who tries to get onto the docks. Don’t let any boats leave.”
An image of Wolfe’s face and a map of the moving cell phone’s progress were shown on every police car’s dashboard computer screen. Underneath Wolfe’s photo, the caption read, Wanted Fugitive. Considered Armed and Dangerous.
Denton purposely left the microphone on as she said, “And Lieutenant Hayes better have a good explanation for why he was talking on the phone to his friend, the perpetrator, a few minutes ago. Otherwise, the Chief will kick his butt, and I hope to be there to see it.”
She then turned off the microphone and smiled at the thought of her rival Terrell Hayes getting into trouble. Now the whole department knew about it too. If anyone was going to get promoted, the events of last night and today were certainly tilting the odds squarely in her favor. And putting that dirtbag photojournalist Jake Wolfe in prison was going to be icing on the cake.
Denton paced back and forth again as she plotted her next move. Under her shirt sleeve, the fresh cuts on her left bicep throbbed with her elevated heartbeat. She told herself she liked the pain. It helped her focus on destroying her enemies.
In the taxi, Jake whispered to himself, “Well if Terrell could track my location using my phone signal, then so could anyone else with the same technology. Including the criminal who just called me.”
Jake thought about it for a minute, looked up ahead and saw an airport shuttle in front of a hotel. That gave him an idea. His phone vibrated. “This is Jake, talk to me.”
“Hi Jake, this is Nevaeh at Doctor Fleming’s office. I’m just calling to follow up on your recent naturopathy appointment.”
“I’ll have to call you back later Nevaeh, I’m kind of in the middle of something right now,” Jake said.
“The x-rays show you have over a dozen metal fragments left in your body from when you were in military combat.”
“I know, that makes it extra fun at the airport checkpoints, but I’ve got to go now.”
“Okay just be sure to drink the liver detox tea every day as the Doctor recommended.”
“No problem; that tea is not bad if you add a shot of brandy to it.”
“Wait, what? The doctor says you are drinking too much alcohol.”
“Tell the doc I only drink on days that end in a y.”
“Doctor Fleming also wants to know if you are getting more exercise.”
“Does horizontal exercise count?”
“Horizontal?”
“Sorry Nevaeh but I have to run. Talk to you later.”
Jake ended the call and then started putting his idea into action. He made sure his phone was set on mute, and all alerts were turned off including the ringer and text sounds and vibration.
He looked at the driver, in the rearview mirror. “Hey my friend, I’d like to get out at that hotel. Here’s some extra cash and I apologize for any inconvenience.”
The driver quickly got over any ill will when he saw the additional money. The extra pay was more than he’d seen in a while, and they had only driven a few miles. Typically in the city of San Francisco, a taxi toll didn’t cost very much because the city was concentrated in an area that was only about 47 square miles total.
“Okay sure, it’s your money pal,” the driver said. “You’re the best customer I’ve had all week… except you have that scary dog.”
Cody grinned at the man in the rearview mirror and panted Ha-Ha-Ha. The driver pulled the taxi into the hotel’s loading zone, and Jake and Cody got out. Jake walked up to the airport shuttle and asked the driver, “Does this airport shuttle go to the San Francisco Airport?”
The shuttle driver sighed and he looked like he wanted to slap Jake across the face. “Yes sir, this San Francisco Airport shuttle goes to the San Francisco Airport,” he said, and he obviously wanted to add, “Believe it or not you imbecile.”
A man who was waiting in line to board the shuttle said, “What airport did you think it went to, the Miami Airport?”
He pointed at the sign on the side of the van that said “San Francisco International Airport.”
“That would be a long drive to Miami,” Jake said, and he smiled and laughed at himself right along with everyone else. When all eyes were looking at the sign on the side of the van, Jake slipped his muted phone into a shopping bag held by a woman who was wearing a tourist t-shirt. Moments later, she took her turn and got onto the bus.
Jake told the driver, “Thanks, but I’ll be catching a ride with you later. It looks like your shuttle is almost full and I’m in no hurry.”
The driver looked at the dog and then nodded and smiled the frazzled smile of someone who deals with the public on a daily basis. He got in his shuttle and drove toward the airport, taking Jake’s phone along for the ride.
Terrell Hayes set his phone on the seat as he drove his police SUV and waited for Jake to come back on. A truck stopped and blocked his side of the street. He couldn’t pass it due to oncoming traffic. Terrell took an alleyway to go around the truck. When he got back on the street he noticed that his phone display showed the call had dropped. He looked at his dashboard computer screen to check the GPS route of Jake’s phone and was not happy with what he saw.
“Now the tracking shows that Jake’s phone is traveling toward the airport,” Terrell said. “Not a good idea Jake.”
Terrell also noticed that he had an unread text message from Jake and a voicemail from Beth.
Special Agent Knight was sitting at his desk in the FBI Building and receiving orders that were being issued for a full-scale manhunt. Initial reports were brief but one thing was certain. Someone in the news media had shot a congressman’s pregnant wife. That man was now Public Enemy Number One in the city of San Francisco. The name and the image of the man’s face were going out to every FBI agent and police car computer in the area. The data would appear on Knight’s computer and phone any moment now.
Knight wanted to get in touch with a special asset he had within the news media. That guy always seemed to know what was going on. In the past, he’d proven himself to be a helpful friend of the bureau. On more than one occasion he’d provided investigative reporter tips to the FBI that had aided investigations and resulted in arrests of violent criminals. Other times he’d agreed to keep confidential items out of the news, and had protected bureau secrets and sources.
Even though Jake Wolfe was a bit of a rebellious nonconformist, he’d proven to be one of the most helpful average citizens Knight had ever met. Jake might even be working at the Moscone Center today as a cameraman. That would be lucky. If he was at the scene of the crime, he might have some video or photos that could
help the investigation.
Knight had Jake’s phone number stored in his phone. He took the phone out of his coat pocket so he could call him, and he saw that he’d missed some calls while he’d been busy with the alert. At that moment, the photo of the shooter suspect appeared on his phone and his computer. And the printer started spitting out paper copies. Knight stared at the image in shock and disbelief. He felt like someone had slapped him across the face. It was a photo of Jake Wolfe grinning like a madman. Jake was wanted for shooting a Congressman’s pregnant wife? Impossible.
Looking at his phone, Knight noticed that Jake had tried to call him a few minutes ago. That was surprising under the circumstances. Knight was going to have to explain to the brass why a wanted suspect had called him moments after a crime. Maybe Jake wanted to turn himself in to someone he trusted.
Knight returned Jake’s call, but there was no answer. He tried the call again and again.
Chapter 71
The Secret Service agents at the Moscone Center Auditorium had the crowd under control. People were crying, and agents were shouting orders. The doors to the large room were sealed off. The agents had all of the television cameras knocked over, and all the camera operators lying face down with their hands handcuffed behind their backs. They were holding everyone else at gunpoint, with their hands on top of their heads. One agent walked through the crowd asking everyone to be calm, patient and disciplined, for their own safety. He apologized for the inconvenience and promised that this would be over soon.
