A Trace of Hope

by Blake Pierce

  Keri turned off the TV and sat quietly in the semi-darkness.

  If this plan doesn’t work, I may as well be dead.

  Her thoughts were interrupted by a key turning in the door lock. She turned to see Ray, who entered holding a bag from In-N-Out Burger.

  “I figured you’d be famished,” he said when he caught sight of her.

  “My hero,” she said, batting her eyes briefly before stopping because it actually hurt. “How’d it go?”

  “About how you’d expect. I managed to get out of a lot of the bureaucratic stuff because Hillman ‘knew we were close’ and wanted to give me a day before I had to fill out all the forms. I did fill out a formal incident report but didn’t actually sign or file it yet so I can’t be officially charged with filing a false police report. A lot of people came by but I told them all I just needed some time alone and I’d talk to them tomorrow. No one pressed me. I figured that one way or another, I’ll be coming clean then. How was your day, dear?”

  Keri tried not to chuckle for fear of the pain.

  “Mostly just trying to survive it. Moving has been hard. I just slept for a few hours, which I’m hoping helps. And Mags left me some Vicodin, which I plan to take before our big outing.”

  “Are you sure you’re up for this?” Ray asked as he opened the bag and placed a double double with grilled onions on the table in front of her.

  “No, but we don’t really have a choice. We don’t know who we can trust on the force and there’s no one else I’d be willing to put in a situation like this.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to bring in Castillo?” Ray said. “You think she might be dirty?”

  “I don’t think she’s dirty, Ray. In fact, she’s helped me out of several jams off-book that make me almost positive that she’s not the mole. But when it comes to my one chance to save Evie, ‘almost positive’ isn’t good enough. I’m not taking any chances.”

  “Fair enough. What about your friend Uriel?” he asked.

  Uriel Magrev was Keri’s Krav Maga instructor. But before moving to LA he had spent six years in Shayetet 13, the Israeli Special Forces version of Navy SEALS.

  “He’d be a nice addition,” Keri acknowledged. “Unfortunately, he’s currently visiting family in Tel Aviv.”

  “So it’s just you and me, then.”

  “Don’t forget our surveillance expert,” Keri said as she nearly inhaled a bite of her burger. Something about eating regular food gave her a jolt of well-being that temporarily eased the soreness she felt everywhere.

  “Yeah, you want to fill me in on his plan?” Ray asked before taking a bite of his own burger.

  “I’ll do my best. Keith lost me occasionally but I think I got the gist of it. Apparently there are these things called taggants. There are all kinds of variations and they get really technical. He used words like nanocrystals and quantum dots. My headache started getting worse as he talked.”

  “I actually feel one coming on now,” Ray said.

  “Anyway, smartass,” Keri continued, sticking her tongue out. At least that didn’t hurt. “This stuff is high-tech tracking technology, so small that it can be placed on the subject in the form of a dot or a liquid or digital dust and the person would never know. Depending on the substance, it can be placed on skin, clothing, even a vehicle.”

  “That sounds awesome,” Ray said. “Why aren’t we using it in the department?”

  “According to Keith, for a long time, the military had a stranglehold on it. Drones could apparently use it to identify a particular enemy combatant inside a building from miles away. Now some corporations are using it to protect proprietary products and detect counterfeiting, stuff like that. But it doesn’t come cheap. And the LAPD doesn’t exactly have the resources to invest in this sort of thing right now. Plus there are the legal questions.”

  “I’ll bet,” Ray said. “So are you telling me that our local neighborhood mall security guy has access to this stuff? Because that’s a little scary.”

  “No,” Keri said. “But he’s an enthusiast. And when I told him I needed to track Herb Wasson, that I needed to know where he was going tonight and that my daughter’s life depended on not losing him, this is what he mentioned. Apparently he knows a guy who knows a guy.”

  “And how does he expect to secure this kind of stuff, even if this guy is willing to meet with him?”

  “With the unlimited supply of money that Southern heiress and well-heeled divorcee Margaret Merrywether promised him.”

  “Wow.”

  “That’s what I said,” Keri agreed.

  “So how do we know if he succeeded?” Ray asked.

  “We’ll know when we stop by the mall.”

  “What?” Ray asked, incredulous.

  “Keith said he would leave us some secure communications equipment in the security office at the Fox Hills Mall.”

  “Keri, I have to tell you that when I woke up this morning, I did not think that I would be dealing with nanocrystals, mall security guards, and a girlfriend who had been declared dead but is currently munching on a double double burger.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s not all, loverboy.”

  “What more could there possibly be?” he asked.

  “If I’m going to be even mildly functional this evening, I’m going to need a little assistance. So be a dear and fetch your dead girlfriend a couple of Vicodin from the kitchen counter.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Keri forced herself to stay still even though every part of her wanted to run, to scream, to do anything other than remain quiet and motionless, as she had been for the last hour.

  It was 10:22 p.m. and, despite everything, she still wasn’t sure where the Vista was. She had followed all of the agreed-upon precautions and listened to all of Keith’s suggestions. And yet here she was, still lying in the backseat of Ray’s car, waiting for word on the location of Herb Wasson and the future of her daughter.

  It had been like this for over four hours. After leaving Ray’s apartment around 6:15 p.m., they’d driven to the Fox Hills Mall, where Ray picked up the fancy headsets Keith left them at the security office. Then they went to West Hollywood. Keri, who was supposed to be dead, had to lie down in the backseat the whole way so she wouldn’t be seen.

  After Ray had spent ten minutes weaving through traffic and was confident that he wasn’t being followed, he handed Keri a headset and put on one himself. They turned them on and found Keith was already on the channel, ready and waiting with updates for them.

  He had good news. He’d managed to buy a taggant and, after several failed attempts through intermediaries, even secure it to Herb Wasson himself. He’d apparently followed Wasson all afternoon, including to the Boulevard Lounge at the Beverly Wilshire Hotel, where the man had a meeting with some film director. Keith had applied it to Wasson himself when he “accidentally” bumped into him as the older man was leaving the restroom, rubbing it on his sweater and the back of his neck.

  And while it was working as promised, sending out a signal that Keith could track on his laptop, the Hollywood Hills themselves were complicating matters. Every time the limo Wasson was currently a passenger in rounded a curve and a huge section of mountainous rock separated Wasson from Keith’s surveillance equipment, he would temporarily lose the signal. It was slow going.

  So now Keri lay in the back seat of Ray’s car, which was parked in a strip mall at the base of Hollywood Hills near the corner of Sunset and Fairfax. She and Ray, who was seated in the driver’s seat, listened as Keith gave them a running commentary of his slow-motion pursuit of Wasson’s limousine, hoping it was headed to the Vista.

  Then, at 10:30 exactly, the line went silent. Keri waited a minute before whispering to Ray.

  “Did we lose the connection?”

  “I don’t think so,” he replied without turning around. “I just think he’s gone radio silent. Keith, are you still there?”

  There was no response for another five minutes. Keri felt th
e ball in the pit of her stomach growing. She was worried Keith had been discovered and was about to suggest they go up the hill to look for him when his voice cut through the silence.

  “I found it,” he said. “I found the Vista!”

  “What?” both Keri and Ray shouted at the same time.

  “At least I think I did,” Keith said, trying to rein in his enthusiasm without success. “That’s why I was out of communication for a bit. I wanted to make sure. But Wasson’s limo just entered through a gate onto a private estate. I could see at least two dozen other vehicles on the property, along with tons of security.”

  “Were they armed?” Ray asked.

  “I didn’t actually see any weapons but I wouldn’t be surprised,” Keith said. “I think they’re trying to blend in. They were all wearing red blazers, like valets. But they don’t look like valets, you know? Lots of buzz cuts and broad shoulders with purposeful expressions on their faces. All wearing earpieces. They could easily have guns under the jackets.”

  “Anything else?” Keri asked.

  “Yeah, they were using mirrors on poles to check under the vehicles and checking both drivers and passengers as they arrived. This event is obviously not just your standard Hollywood orgy.”

  “Okay, great work, Keith,” Keri said. “Send us the address and stay put. We’re coming to you. We’re going to figure out a way in on our way up there and get back to you.”

  She took off her headset and reached into her bag for a bottled water, half a bagel, and Mags’s Vicodin.

  “What are you doing?” Ray asked.

  “It looks like we’re about to get in gear and I’d like to be mostly pain-free for the festivities,” she said as she tossed the pills in her mouth and swallowed.

  “And the bagel?”

  “Mags said the pain meds might upset my stomach and that I should eat something.”

  “That’s your focus right now?” Ray asked incredulously.

  “I don’t want to be crawling through bushes with an upset stomach, Raymond.”

  “Fine,” he replied, shaking his head. “So how do you propose we get into those bushes in the first place? It sounds like accessing that estate is going to be impossible.”

  “I have an idea for that,” Keri assured him. “Let’s head up the hill and I’ll fill you in on the way. My other concern is what we’re going to do about backup if we actually get in there and need help.”

  “I have a plan for that,” Ray said, sounding pleased with himself as he pulled out of the parking lot and headed north on Fairfax toward Hollywood Boulevard. “Would you like to hear it?”

  “Very much.” She appreciated that he was trying to keep the tone light and tried to match him. Otherwise the magnitude of the situation threatened to overwhelm her.

  “Now that we know the address of the Vista, once we’re in position I’m going to call in the LA County Sheriff’s Department. Since West Hollywood doesn’t have their own police department, they contract out with the Sheriff. I’m going to reach out to their SWAT unit to—”

  “But if you do that, Cave’s mole might tip him off,” Keri interrupted.

  “May I please finish?” Ray said, pretending to be offended.

  “Sorry,” Keri muttered.

  “I plan to call in a report of a meth lab five blocks over from the Vista address. I’ll say that it looks like a deal is going down and that there are multiple armed men. The address shouldn’t set off any alarms because it’ll be a different street entirely.”

  “Okay. Sounds good so far.”

  “Thanks for the approval,” Ray said snarkily as he turned left from Fairfax onto Hollywood. “When we’re actually ready to make our move, I’ll call in the correct report using my name and badge number. SWAT should be less than three minutes out. Easy.”

  “It’s not a terrible plan,” Keri admitted.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence. Care to share your master plan?”

  “Sure. We’re going to drive in right through the main gate.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Keri couldn’t see Ray’s face from the backseat but she could tell from his prolonged silence that he didn’t love her idea.

  She didn’t see why he was so apprehensive. After all, pretty much the exact same plan had worked to get them into the guarded Mexican brothel they infiltrated to rescue Sarah Caldwell only months earlier.

  Admittedly, the security then had been much more lax, those people didn’t have any real concern about an intrusion, and Keri hadn’t been borderline immobile and drugged up. But the general principle still held. At least that’s what she told herself as she got back on the line to explain it to Keith.

  He seemed more amenable to the plan but she wasn’t sure if that was because it was a good one or because he was clueless when it came to this sort of thing. Either way, he was up for it.

  The practical effect of that was that for the next several minutes, Ray sat parked on a side street, watching the traffic on Laurel Canyon Boulevard go north toward the Hollywood Hills. Keri, sitting upright for the first time in hours, watched the cars whiz by as well.

  After what felt like an eternity, Keri saw a stretch limo pass them, dutifully following the speed limit while all the cars around it were speeding by.

  “I think we may have a candidate,” she said, pointing at the slow-moving vehicle.

  “Got it,” Ray said, pulling out onto Laurel Canyon and hitting the accelerator. It didn’t take long to pass the limo. About a quarter mile up, he turned right onto Laurelmont Drive. If the limo was headed to the Vista, it would almost certainly turn here as well.

  “Approaching you now,” he said into his headset as he saw Keith pull into the middle of the road facing them and get out.

  Ray swerved around him, driving up the road another fifty yards before doing a U-turn and looping back down the road. He pulled over to the side of the road behind a large SUV and got out immediately. Keri took longer to extricate herself from the car, as she’d been stuck in the backseat for so long and unable to move much at all.

  “I think they’re coming,” both of them heard Keith say as they scurried down the side of the road, keeping hidden behind the cars parked along the street.

  Sure enough, the stretch limo from below was coming to a stop in front of Keith’s beat-up fifteen-year-old Nissan Maxima, unable to get past it on the narrow mountain road. The driver lowered his window.

  “Move your car, kid,” he said gruffly.

  “I’d love to,” Keith relied, putting on his most convincing, helpless millennial voice. “But I think I rode over a nail or something. I heard a pop and I’m worried about driving down the steep hills at night. Can you take a look?”

  “Call the Auto Club. I have somewhere to be.”

  “I already did,” Keith said in an impressively whiny tone. “They said they’d be at least a half hour. Can you at least help me push the car to the side of the road so I don’t get hit while I wait?”

  Keri heard the driver mutter a curse under his breath and knew they had him. She nodded to Ray and they both moved quickly into position. As she skulked past several more cars to get to the back of the limo, she heard the driver tell whoever was in the backseat that he’d be done in a minute. Then he got out and joined Keith at the back of the Maxima. He was a big guy, over six feet tall and African-American—perfect.

  “I think if we just push it over there,” Keith said, nodding at an open space between two cars, “that should do it.”

  “None of your tires look too bad, kid,” the driver said, sounding slightly suspicious.

  “I think the nail is holding in the air but I don’t want to chance it, you know? I can see you’re in a hurry, sir, and I appreciate your help, so let’s just move the car and you can be on your way.”

  “Yeah, whatever,” the driver agreed.

  They pushed the Maxima to the side and Keith ran to the driver’s seat to hit the brakes before it bumped into anything. Keri saw Ray wait un
til the limo driver neared the edge of the road, out of sight of any of his passengers, to step out from the shadows and jam his gun in the guy’s ribs. Over the headset, she could hear him talking quietly.

  “I need a ride to the party. Get me in without any fuss and you walk away easy. Give me trouble and you don’t ever walk again, maybe don’t breathe again. You got me?”

  She saw the driver nod.

  “We’re going to walk back to the car. You’ll drive. I’ll be in the passenger’s seat. Is your privacy glass up?’

  The guy nodded.

  “Good. Let’s keep it that way. Are you the regular driver for this customer or is this a one-time thing?”

  “I work for a service,” the driver said. “I don’t know the client. This is my first time driving him.”

  “Good. Let’s go.”

  They reached the car and got in, Ray making sure to stay out of view of the rear passenger windows.

  “What’s your name, fella?” Ray asked. Keri could no longer see him but his voice sounded smooth as silk.

  “Pete.”

  “Pete, tell your client you’re sorry about the delay and we’re about to get on our way.”

  Pete did as he was told.

  “Now pop the trunk, Pete.”

  Pete popped it and Keri moved quickly from her hiding place, crawled into the trunk, and pulled the top down.

  “I’m in,” she whispered into her headset.

  “Go ahead and drive, Pete,” she heard Ray say.

  As the car started up again, she heard Keith’s voice over the headset comm.

  “Good luck, you guys. I’ll be down here if you need me.”

  “Thanks, Keith,” Keri whispered as she shimmied herself further back into the bowels of the trunk.

  She turned on her phone light briefly to look around and found an old floor mat, which she draped over herself. If she curled up into the fetal position, it almost completely covered her.