Sandburg Squared

by Cindy Combs

  Blair shrugged. "And it's unlikely the Tangs or the Dantes are going to report it stolen, since neither can prove THEY have it legally." Then he noticed Jim rewinding the tape. "Jim?"

  "Shhh." Jim carefully listened to the portion where the killer confronted the victims. He then rewound it, and played it again.

  "You got something, Jim?" Blair asked.

  Jim shook his head. "That voice is familiar, but I can't place it."

  "Okay," Blair replied, shifting into his guide-mode voice, "why don't we play the tape again, and have you filter out all extraneous noise..."

  Jim closed his eyes, concentrating only on the noises from the tape. "There! Footsteps walking away, then there's a voice distant from the microphone. Turn up the volume."

  Blair turned the stereo's volume to max. Sure enough, a voice could be faintly heard, having a one-sided conversation as though the killer was talking into a phone or cell phone.

  "I can't quite make out what he's saying..." Jim said.

  "He's speaking in one of the Chinese dialects. I can't quite make it out either," Blair said.

  "That definitely points to our killer being from the Tang family," Jim added.

  "What should we do now, sir?" Megan asked Simon.

  Simon scowled in thought. "Arrange transport to put The Dawn in a secured location, and place Mallory into a safe house until we have a better handle on the situation."

  "What do we tell the Feds?"

  "Nothing, unless they ask. And then as little as possible. Megan, take a copy of that tape down to the station and see if you can find someone to interpret it." Simon turned to Jim and Blair. "I want you down at the piers. Check out Taylor's hiding place. If we're lucky, you may find something there that the Feds missed."

  * * *

  Half hour later, Ellison's truck

  Blair had made a second copy of Taylor's recording, which he had played and replayed on the drive to the wharf. Finally, though, he admitted defeat. He wasn't sure this was the same dialect he had learned, and Mandarin had never been one of his better languages. "I can't make it out. Man, I hope we find something at those piers." Blair drummed his fingers on the passenger's arm rest. "Except for the voice you think sounds familiar, we're running zip on clues."

  Jim shrugged as he turned the corner. "If we don't, something will come to us. Right now, we're holding all the cards."

  "Yeah, The Dawn and Mallory." The drumming picked up speed. "I can't BELIEVE how Obie is acting. I mean, the guy PUNCHED him, and now Obie's all 'poor kid'."

  "I don't know. Makes perfect sense to me."

  Blair turned to Jim in shock. "What?"

  Jim shrugged again. "What if Taylor had slugged you instead of Obie? How would you feel then?"

  "Well, of course I'd... well... I'd..." Blair threw up his hands. "Okay, I wouldn't be upset. But I'm young and can defend myself. Obie wouldn't hurt anyone, Jim."

  Jim struggled to keep from smiling. "Oh, I'd say your uncle has been in his share of fights and can defend himself. Just like his nephew."

  Blair thought a long moment. Then he glanced at his partner. "Is this how you feel when I get friendly with potential felons?"

  "Every single time."

  Jim parked the truck next to pier #46. Stepping out into the cold air, Blair zipped up his jacket and shoved his hands into his pockets. Glancing around, he commented, "pretty quiet right now."

  Jim glanced at his watch. "Yeah, it's close to the time Obie was here. No wonder there were no witnesses."

  "Taylor said he was positioned by the next to the last pylon?"

  "Yep," Jim replied, his sentinel senses already on alert.

  Blair fell in step behind his partner, allowing Jim to scan the area as they walked to the spot. Jim knelt down, touching a dark stain on the wood plank. "Blood. Did Obie check Taylor's head wound?"

  "Yeah. Small cut and a nice size bump, but Obie didn't think he had a concussion or anything." Squinting across the water at the next pier, Blair observed softly, "This is a good place for a lookout."

  "The best one for sighting the exchange on Pier 45," Jim agreed, surveying the area. "Which indicates whoever hit Taylor probably knew how he and his cousin operated, and thus where to look for him."

  Blair paused a moment. "Would the Dantes or the Tangs know that?"

  "Maybe. The Feds and Interpol might know their MO, too."

  "Ah, man," Blair shook his head in disgust. "I do NOT like that idea."

  "Neither do I, Chief. Neither do I. Especially considering Okuma is over there at the exchange site now."

  "What?" Blair exclaimed.

  "Let's go see what our not-so-friendly Fed is doing."

  * * *

  Okuma glared at the partners as they approached. "What are you doing here?"

  Blair shrugged nonchalantly. "Due to all the heat, Homicide kicked the murders up to us. So we're doing our duty and checking out the scene."

  "However, that doesn't explain why YOU are here," Jim added pointedly.

  A faint look of unease crossed the agent's face before Okuma turned away. "I'm trying to get a better feel of what happened. Like where Taylor Mallory could have hidden before killing his cousin and Acampos."

  "That's easy. Taylor Mallory wasn't here, he was on the next pier over," Blair explained.

  Okuma turned to the young detective in surprise. Monitoring his heart rate, Jim knew he wasn't faking it. "What? But they found Mallory's gloves by the lamp post over there."

  "No." Jim shook his head. "From Mallory's statement, he was monitoring the exchange from the next pier over. The evidence corroborates his story. In fact, the evidence indicates that the Tang family might be the real killers."

  Dumbfounded, Okuma looked from one detective to the other. "I'm not Judge Ito, Detective, so don't tell me stories about 'real killers'. My evidence has Taylor's fingerprints on the murder weapon and his gloves--with Acampos' and Dein's blood on them--at the murder scene." His expression darkened.

  Jim shook his head, "C'mon, Okuma. You've been in this game long enough to know a frame-up when you see one. Do you really think someone bright enough to by-pass security systems around the world without getting caught is dumb enough to leave his gloves and the weapon at a crime scene? Hell, there's nothing in Mallory's MO to suggest the kid has ever touched a gun."

  Okuma had no response to that.

  Blair and Jim exchanged a look. At Jim's nod, Blair produced the hand-held tape recorder. Okuma began to ask a question, then paused to listen. His expression changed from anger, to surprise, and finally, as the killer spoke, to a completely unreadable look.

  "We're having it translated now--" Blair began.

  Okuma interrupted, "He's talking to his grandfather. Apologizing for failing to find The Dawn, telling him that those responsible have been punished, promising to find the gem." The agent's features faltered for a moment, but only a moment. A stoic expression replaced it. "I owe your uncle an apology, Detective Sandburg. It would seem his instincts about Mr. Mallory were better than mine..."

  "You recognize the voice?" Jim guessed.

  Okuma nodded, his face grim. "When I was in the D.E.A., I busted a cocaine ring in San Francisco's Chinatown. One of the workers decided to turn evidence instead of serving the full jail time. He told us that the Tang family ran their ring and that they had someone on the inside of the FBI I was reassigned to the Bureau to find out who it was, with Keane as my partner since he is an expert on Chinese gangs. Recently, I started getting suspicious when--"

  Hearing the faint click of a safety being released, Jim suddenly turned, pulling his gun. "Show yourself!"

  * * *

  Meanwhile, elsewhere on the waterfront

  Simon parked next to Jim's truck and stepped out into the cold air. Glancing around, he immediately spotted what he was searching for. Muttering an oath, he walked over to the van barely concealed in the shadows. His approach went unnoticed by the man behind the wheel. Obie nearly jumped out of his skin when S
imon crept up and banged loudly against the driver's window.

  Obie opened the door. "Sheesh! Is giving someone a heart attack considered police brutality?"

  "What the hell are you doing here? I told you to stay at the loft with Mallory." On the other hand, when did anyone in the Sandburg family ever do what they were told?

  Obie climbed out of his van. "Yeah, and I promised Taylor I'd make sure the murderer was found. When I give my word, I follow through." The older Sandburg squirmed a bit under the captain's disapproving glare.

  "Your nephew and Ellison are my best team. If there's anything to find, they'll find it."

  Obie turned to the police captain in surprise. "Best team? Blair's just a rookie."

  Bank's laugh was deep and hearty. "Ellison and Sandburg were my best team BEFORE Blair quit the university and went to the academy. As far as I was concerned, the only training the kid needed was in weapons. And even though Blair made marksman, I know his best weapon is still his golden tongue. Besides, Ellison shoots enough for both of them."

  "And that doesn't bother you?"

  "Hell, no. Those two complement each other. Together, they gave Ellison the best crime- solved record in the city. Now, your nephew can get his fair share of the credit."

  * * *

  Pier 45

  Keane stepped out of the shadows, his own weapon trained on the detective. "Aren't we overreacting a bit? Though I want all of you to drop your guns." Blair carefully withdrew his empty hands from his pockets, holding them out from his sides. Jim, seeing the gun trained on his partner, carefully dropped his own.

  Okuma followed suit, though anger stiffened his movements. "What are you doing here, Keane? You were suppose to be finishing up those reports."

  Keane laughed. "And let you go out by yourself and find something you shouldn't? You should have left well enough alone instead of listening to these local idiots."

  "I'd say their instincts are better than mine. It's you, isn't it? You planted the gloves and fed me the false reports."

  Keane sadly shook his head. "I honestly hoped you wouldn't catch on, Okuma. Now I'm going to have to kill you as well as the two detectives."

  "You aren't going to get away with this," Blair pointed out, covertly surveying the area for anything that could be used to their advantage.

  "Why not? I already have everyone believing Mallory killed his cousin. Why not you three as well? Nobody's going to believe that thief."

  "Considering Mallory is in police custody at the moment, your story won't hold," Jim quietly pointed out as he waited for an opening.

  "I'll figure something out," Keane replied.

  "Why, Paul? Why are you doing this?" Okuma asked, voice full of angry confusion.

  "My cousin won The Dawn in a poker game from one of the Dantes' slower family members. The Dantes are now trying to claim that he cheated and that the Tangs should return it." Keane snorted at the absurd idea. "My grandfather likes having some American luck, so he refused. Then the Dantes hired the Mallory cousins to steal it. Someone had to get it back, and my grandfather asked me."

  "You would risk your career for those thugs?" Okuma asked, incredulous.

  "They are my family!" Keane retorted.

  "Great, a Fed with a mob family," Blair muttered under his breath.

  As Keane turned towards Sandburg angrily, the Seven O'clock Cannon thundered across the water. Startled, Keane lost his grip on his gun, allowing Jim to drop and roll to his own weapon. Realizing he was in trouble, Keane raced off the pier. Ellison shot, then jumped to his feet to give chase.

  * * *

  Simon paused as the Seven O'clock Cannon signaled the time.

  Obie blinked, stunned that his Blair could be that good a cop. Before he could ask another question, both men heard gunfire.

  "Get back in the van," Simon shouted, drawing his weapon. Spotting Keane racing off the pier, Banks searched the area with his eyes for a suspect. Keane jumped onto a nearby motorcycle, turned the engine, and shot down the waterfront.

  Confused, Simon then spotted Ellison slide to a stop off the pier. Before he could call to his detective, Jim dashed over to a man about to get on another motorcycle. It was Obie's friend, Gene. "Excuse me, police business." Before Gene could say more than 'Wha...?" Ellison had grabbed the bike and was racing after Keane.

  "Sorry, Uncle Gene," Blair shouted with a wave as he and Okuma arrived on the scene.

  "Sandburg!" Simon barked. Blair raced over to him, shouting, "Follow Jim!" with Okuma on his heels. Knowing when to shut up and drive, Simon jumped into the van as Blair and Okuma slid into the back. "What the hell is going on?" Simon barked as he put the car in gear.

  "Keane's the murderer," Blair panted.

  "I should point out that this is not a pursuit vehicle--" Obie's protest was drowned out as the engine chugged, then roared to life, and the van lurched forward.

  * * *

  Jim was gaining ground with his borrowed bike, dodging crates as he narrowed Keane's lead. Keane glanced back, then ran up a couple of planks resting on a pile of concrete blocks. Flying over the water, he landed on the next pier. Though the bike skidded left then right, he managed to straighten it out and keep going.

  Taking a deep breath, Jim gunned the engine and followed Keane. His landing was smoother, allowing him to gain another precious second on his perp.

  From the van, Obie whistled. "Did I just see what I thought I saw?" He winced as several of his kits slid across the van as Simon maneuvered a sharp left.

  Concentrating on his partner's chase, Blair simply replied with a worried, "yep."

  Jim was still several yards behind the crooked agent when a forklift drove in front of the pair. Jim managed to hit the brakes and stop in time, but Keane wasn't so lucky. The bike skidded, then fell to the left, slamming its passenger into the wooden flooring before sliding into the forklift. Slowly, Keane sat up holding his left shoulder, only to find Ellison standing there with his cuffs. "Agent Paul Keane? You are under arrest for the murder of Dein Mallory and Alberto Acampos. You have the right to remain silent..."

  * * *

  Two days later, Ellison's loft

  "Obie, what're you doing?" Blair finally gave in to curiosity at the smells wafting through the loft and stepped out of his room. He went to join his uncle, who was happily at work grilling something on the barbecue on the balcony, in spite of the chilly air.

  Obie was making a show of spicing the food. "Once in a while, a man has to get in touch with his primitive, caveman nature--grab a big slab of meat and throw it on the fire..."

  "So, what's cooking?"

  "Tofu burgers."

  Blair couldn't contain his smirk. "Some caveman."

  As the two men watched the burgers sizzle, Blair asked, "How do you think Taylor's holding up?"

  The day before, Jim and Simon had helped arrange for the Feds to release Dein's body for burial. The funeral was a small affair. After debating whether to send Dein home to Australia for burial, Taylor had ultimately decided to have his cousin laid to rest at a small cemetery in Cascade. The funeral had been that morning. Taylor had been allowed to go, under Okuma's guard. Obie, Jim, Blair, and Megan had attended. Taylor, still uncomfortable in the company of the Feds and police, had seemed grateful for the older Sandburg's presence.

  Obie stared out over the city for a moment. "I don't know. Dein was all the family the kid had, so it's going to be rough on him. A lot depends on whether the Feds or Interpol send him to prison." The older man barely contained a shudder, worried about the kid in a cell.

  "After that little speech to Okuma, it's a wonder you're not going in with him," Blair pointed out.

  "Hey! I'll have you know Okuma actually offered me a job as a criminal profiler!"

  "Still, I'd be watching my tax returns for the next five years. He can always suggest they audit you."

  Another uncomfortable moment passed before Blair finally offered, "I'm sorry for coming down so hard on you about Rwanda before.
After all, considering the highly abbreviated stories I give Mom about my adventures with the PD, I should be the first to understand."

  "That's okay, Blair. I'm not much better, hounding you about your degree. I guess I'm just realizing that you're all grown up and have the right to change the world by the path of your choosing, just as I did. Why don't we agree that we each have the right to personal secrets, but the other has the right to know how much they should worry?"

  "Deal," Blair replied, shaking Obie's hand.

  Once the pact was sealed, Obie announced, "well, enough bonding, let's eat."

  "Well, tofu and the mystery side dishes sound great, but I can't."

  "What?"

  "Tonight's the last showing of the Aborigine Crafts exhibit at the art museum. I promised to meet Megan there in twenty minutes."

  "Ooooo. A date with the great kisser?"

  "It's not a date," Blair protested.

  "Of course not." Obie couldn't quite hide the grin.

  "Obie..."

  "Hey, remember that girl you had a crush on in the third grade? You made me buy you that--"

  Blair flushed bright red. "You tell anyone about that, and I'll bring up the time in Brazil you got into that shaman's mushrooms and ran around declaring yourself king of the Mud People to the whole camp."

  "Who told y--er, I have no recollection of that." Obie blushed in turn.

  He was spared further teasing as the loft door opened and Jim stepped in.

  "Hey man, how'd it go?" Blair asked his partner.

  "Okuma got Taylor his deal. The kid will have to testify against Keane, but since there's no real evidence that Taylor and Dein stole The Dawn or anything else, Interpol is willing to drop their investigations. So he won't go to jail."

  Flipping a burger on the grill, Obie couldn't quite hide the worry in his voice. "Will the Tangs retaliate? And what about the Dantes?"