Chinese Burn

by Mark Chisnell

  "You're paranoid," said Pete.

  "It doesn't mean that they aren't out to get me."

  Pete smiled. "All right, lead the way, Lucy."

  Jobert pulled into the parking lot opposite the Ann Arbor Police Department, and turned off the engine. He checked his watch, it was 10.30 and he was pretty much right on time. He got out of the car and headed across the street. Rice was already in the reception area.

  "Ah, there you are," Rice said, as Jobert came through the door. "I was just headed out for coffee, there's a place down aways. Why don't we do this there?"

  Jobert nodded, and backed out of the door again. He was quite happy to do this off campus, unofficial was good. He stayed on Rice's shoulder as they walked a couple of blocks down to Main Street, and then turned left. Another two blocks and they came to a pleasant, leafy street with a few cafes. Rice chose the Starbucks and pushed through the door. When they were settled outside with a couple of grande lattes, Jobert began.

  "So, what have you got?"

  "I got a guy at DeChip for you today."

  "Thanks, did he turn anything up yet?"

  "Not that I heard, but we hardly need it. First up, we got some threads from a bush right outside Ravert's front door that matches a jacket we found in her hotel room."

  "Good start."

  "It gets better, and then we found one of Madeline Ravert's hairs in the shower tray in Blackett's hotel room. So we got her both at the scene, and in close physical proximity to Madeline Ravert. Then there's her rental car, which we finally tracked to the Hilton in Detroit. So we got her running as well — motive, opportunity and guilty as hell in the way she reacted. She did it."

  Jobert took a long slug of coffee. He rarely went for the obvious conclusion. In his game that answer was usually the one you were supposed to arrive at. The trick was to work out who wanted you to arrive at that answer and why. In Rice's world things were different, murders were simple affairs primarily motivated by anger, greed or lust. Jobert didn't blame Rice for thinking that Blackett was responsible for a double homicide; he just needed to figure out how to use that to his own advantage.

  "Look," he started, "a double killing like this must be a pretty big case around here. We can help you make it stick; I just want one thing in return."

  "I figured you would."

  "I want to speak to her first, for as long as it takes. There's to be no big public arrest frenzy, no perp walk, none of that shit. If you pull her in, you call me and no one else talks to her before I do. I get as long as I need."

  "I can't hold her forever; I'll need to talk to her. I don't want you wasting the time I got ahead of arraignment—"

  "There's to be no arrest, you find her, you call me. I come and get her, we talk, I give her back and then you do your thing."

  "Who the hell is this girl, and why is she going to cooperate without being arrested?"

  "That's not your problem, and frankly, speculating on it is not going to help you or anyone else."

  Rice took a deep breath, and then a long noisy slurp of his coffee. "If she's in Detroit and they catch her there, I can't do much."

  "Let me worry about that, I just want total assurance that if she's caught in your jurisdiction, I see her first."

  "All right." Rice nodded.

  Jobert sat back. "So why do you think she headed to Detroit?"

  "Well, I'm guessing you know a lot more about her than I do, but normally, I'd reckon that she'd be going to try and cross the river."

  Only years of experience stopped Jobert showing his reaction. Why the hell hadn't he thought of that? She might not be just in the wind, she could be headed east in a Canadian rental car or even on a plane by now. "In your experience, how easy is that?" he said, as measured as he could manage.

  "Pretty easy, the border's wide open. A strong swimmer would have no trouble at this time of year. Do it at night and the chances of being spotted are pretty slim."

  "And once she's on the other side?"

  "We already gave them the heads up, it's all pretty unofficial at my level, but we work OK together."

  "Let me see what I can do, I have some contacts that might help."

  "Thanks."

  Jobert gazed into his coffee, thinking that he needed to talk to Wallace right now.

  "Hey, look, unless there's anything else, I should be getting back to the office," said Rice. "Paperwork. Lots of it."

  "Sure." Jobert stood as Rice did. "Don't forget; don't get carried away in the moment. There will be repercussions beyond my control if this turns into a spectacle before I can talk to her."

  "National security, huh?"

  "Always. Oh, one last thing. I need to have a look around the Ravert's house. Can I get access?"

  "I have a coupla guys out there, I'll tell them to expect you."

  "Thanks."

  Rice slugged back the last of his coffee and left. Jobert watched him go for thirty seconds before he pulled out his phone. "Wallace?" he said, as soon as the other man picked up.

  "What now?"

  "What if she ran to Canada?"

  "Do you think that's possible?"

  "My man on the ground does, says it's easy if you can swim good — do we know if she can swim good?"

  "No idea."

  "Let's assume she can, we need to get started looking over there as well."

  "OK, I'll get onto it. Anything else?"

  "Local PD reckons they have her bang to rights." He outlined Rice's list of evidence, finishing with the car that had been dumped in the Detroit Hilton parking lot.

  "We know she went to Detroit to meet Halland, not go to Canada," Wallace said.

  "Yeah, but what if she needed him to help her get across the border?"

  "She's got no papers, even if she gets across she can't get on a plane, rent a car—"

  "But he can, rent a car, anyway."

  "All right, I'll widen the net. What are you going to do?"

  "I'm going to shower and shave, I need to read that stuff you sent me on DeChip, and then take a look round the Ravert's place. And I think I might go and see Terry New again, drop a bug on his ass so we can get some intel — it's the only way if Hubert can't get in to their computers."

  "Paul—"

  "Paul what?"

  "We are way outside the rule book here—"

  "There are no other options; if I can't find Blackett then this is about the only other way into this scam."

  "Paul, you don't even know for sure if there is a scam."

  "Ravert was up to something. I know it, and I can nail whatever it was at the same time as finding out what the hell happened in Shibde with Blackett. It's a win-win."

  "The surveillance target you're talking about is Terry New, and we've got nothing on him that can justify action like this right here in our own back yard. This isn't the Middle East."

  "It'll be all right. We'll figure out what's going on, find Blackett and then hand it over to the Feds."

  Wallace sighed. "There's another problem; more and more people are asking me where the hell you've got to and I need to give them something a little less vague. Either that or you need to show your face in the office for a day and calm it down."

  "I can't come back now, if they find her while I'm here I might just get to talk to her before they haul her ass in for arraignment and call a press conference. If I'm in Washington she'll be formally charged before I can even get to Dulles, and half my leverage is gone."

  "I know, but I'm just telling you; I can maybe keep them off your back for another 24 hours. After that they are going to come looking for you—"

  "It's not long enough, it could be days before they find her, and if she's gone to Canada then it could be weeks."

  "For sure, the Director is not going to wait weeks for you to show up and explain where you've been and what the hell you've been doing."

  Jobert was silent for a moment. "I'll think of something, just buy me as much time as you can."

  "I reckon you'
ve got 48 hours tops, or he will set the dogs on you."

  "That was quick," Sam said, as Pete reappeared on the roof.

  "Yeah, and we did a load more shopping," he replied, putting down the bags in front of her.

  "So what did you buy?" She was already peering into the bags.

  "Everything you need but left behind; clothes, sleeping bag and mat, holdall, toothbrush, shampoo and stuff... but also maps of the city and the area. I figured that if we were going to look for a needle in a haystack, we should at least know what the haystack looks like. I got another burner too, for Lucy. I figured she should be able to talk to us."

  "You got me clean clothes? And like, shampoo?"

  "Everything you need to get properly cleaned up."

  Sometimes, he really was perfect.

  "And we got some food too." Lucy produced a take-away box from another bag. "Chicken sweet and sour."

  "And the tablet," Pete added, pulling it out. "It's got some charge in it already."

  "Wow. You have been busy," she replied, and then hesitated. "But I've been thinking about this whole Facebook thing, and I think we should just go straight to the house and search there first."

  Lucy was handing Pete another take-away box and he sat down beside her. "Really, you want to break into a crime scene?"

  "Whatever we do has some risk, just being on the streets is risky enough without going around and searching places, maybe having to ask questions. Yes, breaking into the house is a bigger risk in many ways, but it's also much more likely to produce a result. So let's do it first."

  Sam saw Pete glance at Lucy.

  "I'm ok with that," Lucy said, through a mouthful of rice.

  Pete looked back to Sam and nodded. "All right, I guess it makes sense. So how are we going to get there?"

  There was a silence. The hum of cars drifted up from the street below.

  "We can't risk a car rental," Sam said. "They could be watching the credit cards."

  "I could steal one for you," Lucy said.

  Sam and Pete both looked at her.

  "I mean, I could borrow one for you, and then we could give it back when we were finished. If we get lucky, they might not even know it's gone."

  "Driving around in a stolen car is adding substantially to the risk," Pete said. "If I use my credit card we'll probably be ok. How would they know about a connection between us?"

  "They can read all our mail, search it all for connections on a database, never mind just reading Facebook posts, tweets, everything." Sam slurped a bit of stray sauce from her lip as she spoke.

  "Jeez."

  "What about a local bus?" said Lucy. "The central bus station isn't far from here."

  "That could work," Pete said.

  "I agree, let's see if we can get a bus," Sam said, scooping up her last mouthful. "We know my picture is everywhere. And the cops might be aware that you're here with me, Pete, so there's a risk that they've put your picture out there too — but no one knows about Lucy. If I travel with her it will change it up a bit, they won't be looking for me to be with another woman, and then you can travel on your own."

  "Hold on," Pete said.

  "What?" Sam said, already on her feet.

  "Maybe we should check to see if or when there's a bus first," Pete said, waving the tablet. "And how are we going to do this, I mean actually break into a house?"

  "I've got some skills," Lucy said.

  They both looked at her.

  She shrugged. "Life on the road, there ain't always an ATM when you need it. I don't take anything serious, just pick up some food. Kinda like the excitement to be honest with ya. You know where it is?"

  Sam nodded. "I can find it on the map Pete got."

  "All right, we work out a route to get in around the back. Back doors are always easier, half the time they aren't even locked. Chances are the cops will have their fat asses in a car out front, drinking coffee and shootin' shit. They ain't expecting trouble, they just there for show. And we should clean up. I keep a set of nice clothes just in case. There's nothing derelict in Ann Arbor. It's thirty miles and a world away from Detroit. We'd fit in better looking smart."

  Sam looked at her watch impatiently, she wanted to get on with it... but she also needed to feel clean again.

  "Sam, just wait a second and let me check the schedules," Pete said, already tapping at the tablet.

  Sam watched him, somehow managing to remain silent for the full minute and a half that it took to get an answer.

  "The next one's at 12.10," he said finally, looking from the tablet to his watch. "We have an hour."

  "That's good," Lucy said.

  "What time does it get in?"

  "1.20, but we're not rushing this Sam. If we get it wrong, you are maybe going to jail for a very long time."

  "He's right," Lucy said. "We need to do this right or we're all going to jail."

  "All right, I get it, so let's get some hot water on."

  It was twenty minutes later when Sam emerged from Lucy's A/C room wrapped in one of Pete's sarongs. It hadn't been easy, boiling pots of water on the stove and washing bit by bit, but she was cleaner than she had been in days, and it felt wonderful. "So where are those new clothes?" she asked.

  Pete looked up from pulling on a fresh pair of socks, and reached for one of the shopping bags. He tossed it over. Sam caught it and started to pull the clothes out. There wasn't very much. A dinky vest that would barely reach her midriff, a pair of tiny boardshorts and some trainers. "Really?" she said, holding it up, although the trainers were kind of cool.

  "It's stinking hot, Sam, that's the stuff you were wearing in this temperature in Goa," Pete said, looking slightly hurt. "I thought it was perfect."

  "This stuff is for beaches, Pete. Not cities."

  "Every red-assed male in this whole state going to be looking at you, girlfriend," Lucy said with something between a snort of derision and a chuckle.

  "I'm supposed to be keeping a low profile," she said.

  "Well... they do say to hide in plain sight," Pete said.

  "No one who sees you is going to be thinking about murder. They gonna have something else on their minds entirely," Lucy said.

  Sam gave Lucy a very old-fashioned look.

  "Sorry," said Lucy, looking a little sheepish.

  Sam sighed. "I guess I won't be sweaty..." she said, finally. She checked the pockets of the jeans and her sock and moved the few dollars of change and Roger's letter into the back pocket on the shorts. She would have to tuck the phone into the waistband or carry it. Then she dressed.

  Lucy was already changed and crouched over her bedroll. "What about this?" she asked, holding up the gun.

  Sam looked at Pete. Then back to Lucy. "Same thing as before, Lucy. I don't think we want to be the ones that start shooting. I think that if we get caught by the cops we have to go quietly. Or at least, I go quietly and with a bit of luck you stay free and keep looking for whatever Roger Ravert stashed."

  Lucy looked at them both in turn. "What if someone else starts shooting? Like those guys in your hotel room?"

  "If they're lining me up to take the fall for their murders then they need me alive, not dead," Sam said.

  "I know you folks love your guns, but where I come from keeping one of these in a bedroll isn't normal, and I'd really prefer it if you could leave it behind," Pete said.

  "Where you from then?"

  "I'm English."

  "Oh, I thought your accent was weird."

  "It is, but don't mistake it for English, it's all over the place, sort of mid-Atlantic, via the mid-Pacific," added Sam.

  "Thanks," Pete said, with a trace of sarcasm in a very English accent.

  Lucy just looked at the weapon sadly. "I guess I'm outvoted, I'll hide it away in the house."

  "And then let's go, people," said Sam.

  Twenty minutes later Sam was sat in front of the 12.10 Ann Arbor bus. The engine was running, but the doors were shut and there was no sign of a driver. She
glanced at her watch; it was 12.05, so that part was probably ok. What wasn't ok was that Pete still hadn't showed up. And Lucy wasn't back with the tickets. She resisted the temptation to look up and look around. There were a lot of people about, and it would only take one to recognize her from all the pictures. The knot in her stomach tightened.

  "I got three tickets," Lucy said.

  Sam glanced up and found she was at her shoulder. She had scrubbed up pretty good. Out of the shapeless dirty clothes, and now dressed in slim jeans and a thin knit jersey, her full figure could be properly seen for the first time. She'd let down her long blond hair, and with her height — she was a couple of inches taller than Sam — she was quite striking.

  "There's a hell of a queue." Lucy sat down on the hard, narrow bench beside Sam.

  "What the hell's he doing? He's going to miss the damn bus."

  "Maybe he got lost?"

  "No, not Pete, he's got the navigational instincts of a homing pigeon."

  "You think he got picked up?"

  "Shit, I hope not. It's not like him to be late though, he's normally pretty on it when it's important." Sam tried to ease the tension in her shoulders. "I feel terrible, is anyone looking at us?"

  There was a pause.

  "No, no one, they're all too busy trying to get their asses home. There he is."

  Sam couldn't help it; she looked up and across the bus station towards the door. Pete was sauntering towards them licking an ice cream, swinging a shopping bag.

  "Well, no one looking at him, he's doing a great job fitting in," said Lucy.

  Sam looked at Lucy, then at Pete. And then at the clunk as the bus door opened. The driver stood waiting and a gaggle of people quickly formed around him. Sam wet her lips. Pete walked up to the back of the group, backpack hitched on one shoulder, bag in the other hand. Still finishing the ice cream.

  "Let's go." Lucy stood and took a step towards him.

  Sam followed, and just caught the movement as she slipped Pete's ticket into his pocket. He didn't even twitch. About five seconds later, he pulled out the ticket with his free hand like it had always been there. And took another lick of the ice cream.

  Sam and Lucy followed Pete and everyone else onto the bus. He went almost all the way to the back, and sat by the window. Lucy led Sam one row further back, and on the opposite side. They sat. Sam breathed out. It felt like it was for the first time in a while. They were on their way. Or they would be as soon as the rest of the passengers sat down and the driver got this thing in gear.