Chinese Burn

by Mark Chisnell

  Lucy pointed through some trees. "That's it."

  They turned into the short driveway and walked up into a long thin parking lot that ran beside the church. Sam glanced over her shoulder. "You go in; I'll wait in those trees up there." She pointed towards the back of the lot. Lucy hadn't moved before they heard the engine on the road at the end of the drive. They both turned that way at the same time. It was the police cruiser.

  "Go, Sam, go!" yelled Lucy. "I'll stall them!"

  Sam dropped the backpack off her shoulders and took off down the parking lot at a sprint. The engine roared behind her. Followed by a loud squeal of brakes, and car doors opening.

  "Goddam freeze!" screamed Lucy.

  Sam stopped dead and turned back to look. Fifty yards away, the police car had been forced to a halt. Lucy was standing in front of the cruiser with the two cops half way out of the doors. Lucy had pulled the beaten up semi-automatic out from wherever she had been hiding it and was now pointing it, with a double-fisted grip, at the closer of the two men. Sam felt her heart lurch up her throat and hammer at her tonsils.

  "Lucy, what the hell!" she shouted back at her. "Put the gun down!" She could feel the sweat start under her armpits and on her forehead.

  Lucy didn't look round. The police were both out of the car now, one hand on their sidearm, the other held out in a placative gesture.

  "Easy ma'am," said the closer of the two cops, the driver.

  "Run, Sam, they aren't going anywhere for a while!" Lucy shouted.

  Sam hesitated; Lucy was giving her an opportunity to escape. There was a back exit to the car park; she could run, hide, and then continue the search. But Pete was already dead or in the hospital, and those cops looked really twitchy. Violently resisting arrest was taking this thing to another level altogether. She wasn't going to have another shooting, another life on her conscience. Enough was enough. Sam started to walk back towards them.

  "Ma'am, put the weapon down," said the driver; thin and greasy haired with a name tag that said Baldwin.

  "Stay away from me. I'll shoot!"

  "No," Sam stopped five yards behind the other woman. "Lucy, this is not your fight."

  Lucy glanced over her shoulder. "Jesus, Sam, what the hell!?"

  "We talked about it Lucy, we said to leave the gun behind. This is not the way I want to do it," Sam replied quietly, and with a lot more confidence than she felt.

  Baldwin moved a step closer and Lucy swiveled back to point the weapon at him.

  "It's all right, officers. We're all just a little over-excited. Lucy, please." Sam stepped a couple of paces closer and held out her hand for the gun.

  "These fuckers," Lucy waved the gun at the cops as she spoke, "they won't believe you, and they won't give you even half a break. You need to run, girl, it's the only chance you got."

  "We just need to see some ID," replied the second cop, now moving a step closer.

  Fatter than his partner. Name tag that said Richardson.

  "This young lady," continued Richardson, waving at Sam, "fits a description for a fugitive. We just need to sort that out. So let's do this nice and civilized. Put the weapon down."

  "Sam!" cried Lucy.

  "It's all right, Lucy, we can't do it this way," Sam said. She could see Lucy's finger, white on the trigger. She didn't know the pressure required to fire it, but Lucy couldn't be far off. Stay calm. She turned to Richardson. "I'm Sam Blackett; I think you might have been looking for me."

  "That's right, now please, lower the weapon and put it on the floor."

  "Lucy?" Sam said very gently. "There's a better way than this, we'll work something out."

  "Shit!" Lucy said. She turned to Sam.

  "Please," Sam said, and held her hand out. "This is the only way, we'll work it out."

  Lucy's face collapsed from determination to disappointment and Sam stepped in close and put an arm around her. She took the gun away with the other hand. Both policemen started to draw.

  "No need for that," she said, dropping the gun at her feet.

  Lucy started to sob, and Sam held her tight for just a moment, before she was jerked away by the cop. She spun to face him.

  "On the floor, hands behind you," said a tight, anxious voice from behind a very black barrel.

  Jobert had forgotten to set an alarm, and was in a deep, deep sleep when the phone call came. It took him a long while to recognize what the noise was and when he finally registered that it was his mobile and opened his eyes the first thing he saw was the clock. It said 9.25am.

  "Shit!" he exclaimed and half-rolled, half fell out of bed. He scrambled for his still-ringing phone, glanced at the number and finally managed to get the answer button. "Hello, Rice?"

  "Yeah, it's me. We got her."

  The blood pumped through Jobert's veins like a river in spring thaw. He managed to throttle a triumphant cry before it got out, settling for a fist pump. Goddamn — after all this shit, it might just be all right. He coughed to settle his throat, and then asked, "Where?"

  "She's in a car at 1432 Washtenaw Avenue, outside the church. I've told them to hold her there until you arrive. I don't know what the hell is going on but there are two of them, and the woman pulled a semi-automatic on my boys. It's a little tense down there right now so I'd hustle if I were you."

  "What?" Jobert exclaimed. "They're armed?"

  "Not Blackett, in fact, it was her that talked the other woman down."

  "Who the hell's the other women?"

  "Her name's..." a pause. "Lucy Rendall, ex-Army engineer, no fixed abode. No idea what the hell she's doing mixed up in this, but maybe you know or can figure that out. I'll meet you there."

  "All right, I'm on my way." Jobert hung up and dressed quickly, his mind racing. Goddam, talk about getting lucky after the shambles of last night. When he turned into the car park beside the church, Rice was already there, standing by a police cruiser and talking to a uniform. Jobert pulled up beside them and got out. It was already hot. He left his jacket in the car.

  Rice pointed, "She's in my car, the other one is in here," he tapped on the window of the cruiser as he spoke. "How do you want to do this?"

  "Anyone been charged with anything?"

  "Not yet, but it's a pretty long list. Apart from the murder charge we now have an unlicensed semi-automatic pistol, concealed carry without a permit, and resisting arrest. I can't let you have them indefinitely. I need to charge them in good time. I'm not having this thrown out on some dumb technicality."

  "Sure, give me a few minutes with her; I don't think this will take long."

  Jobert walked to Rice's car. Blackett was in the back seat closest to him. He walked round the other side and got in. She had watched his approach and now stared at him levelly as he got in beside her.

  "Sam Blackett?" he said.

  "My friend, Pete Halland was shot by a cop yesterday, and they won't tell me about him." She didn't deflect her gaze from his.

  "Pete Halland is in a hospital. He took a bullet in the back, they got it out but he bled a lot and he's still in critical care." Jobert saw her visibly relax, just a little.

  "Can I see him?"

  "If you cooperate."

  She folded her hands together, the tension returning to her body.

  "He was shot while resisting arrest for breaking into a property owned by Madeline and Roger Ravert. What was he doing there?" Jobert asked.

  "You think I killed Roger and Madeline Ravert," she replied, without emphasis or tone.

  "There's substantial evidence to point to that."

  "Like what?"

  "There were some threads from your jacket on a bush outside the Ravert's front door. Then there was one of Madeline Ravert's hairs in the shower tray in your hotel room. And then you ran, and dumped that rental car into a Hilton car park in Detroit."

  "I'm not a lawyer, but I'd say that doesn't prove anything except that someone wearing a jacket like mine visited the Ravert's home at some point."

  "And
the hair in the shower tray?"

  She shrugged. "It suggests that I met Madeline, not that I killed her."

  "And did you?"

  "I didn't even meet her, never mind kill her."

  "Then how do you explain the hair in your hotel room?"

  "Someone is trying to set me up."

  Jobert paused, he thought as much himself, but this probably wasn't the time to mention it. "I'm sure most people facing a murder charge say something similar when they are arrested."

  Sam Blackett frowned and looked down at the handcuffs binding her arms.

  "The Chinese authorities say you killed Roger Ravert." Jobert wanted to get a reaction.

  She looked back up. "I'd say they're the ones trying to set me up for all this."

  "Why would the Chinese authorities be trying to set you up?"

  "That's what I'm trying to find out, that's why I didn't turn myself in — because the truth is so fanciful and ridiculous that I didn't think anyone would believe me. Looks like I was right." She looked him in the eye as she said it.

  Jobert hesitated for a moment; this was all heading in the right direction. He got his ID out, the real one, and showed her. "My name's Paul Jobert and if you think the Chinese did this, then I'm probably the best chance you've got of proving it."

  Sam looked at the card for a long while. "CIA?" she said, eventually. "You're really CIA?"

  "Yes, and if you're right about Chinese involvement in this then I'm the one to help you prove it. Ravert was partner at a company that made technology for defense systems, and when someone like that gets murdered while visiting a foreign power all sorts of flags go up at the Agency."

  She looked at him for a long moment. "Whoever killed him knew what they were doing; they were waiting for him in his room. It was over really quickly, the killer just walked away calmly."

  "What were you doing there?"

  "I was drinking with him in his hotel; he got hammered, so I helped him up to his hotel room."

  Jobert raised an eyebrow.

  "Yes, really. We'd already had that discussion and I'd made it clear that I was going back to my hotel. But he could hardly walk, so I helped him into the lift and to the door of his room. He walked inside and the guy jumped him and knifed him to death. It was horrible."

  "Where were you?"

  "Hiding behind a pillar."

  "Smart girl. Then what?"

  "I went to Roger, but he didn't last long. Someone else arrived; they got the hotel people, called the police—"

  "And what did they do?"

  "They held me for a while and then I was interviewed. They told me they didn't even need me as a witness and put me on a plane back here, and then a day later apparently they're convinced that I did it."

  "What did you tell them in the interview?"

  "Exactly what happened, I had no reason to do anything else. He told me that he believed me, but he thought that the whole thing was embarrassing for China. Not only had an American been murdered in one of their best hotels, but I'd been with him in his room when it happened, which — regardless of why I was there — looked bad for Roger, his wife, China and me. He told me that China didn't want the publicity, and nor would his wife or I — and I had to agree with him on the latter. He offered me a ticket to wherever I wanted to go, and I took it."

  "To Detroit? You had the choice of anywhere in the world and you choose Detroit? Roger Ravert's home?"

  Sam hesitated. And then she reached into her back pocket. "Roger gave me this letter for his wife." She held it up.

  "You opened it?"

  "After she was murdered. I thought it might help me work out what was going on. I came to Detroit to deliver it personally. I thought that was better than it just appearing in the mail from her dead husband. And I could be sure that she had got it. I went to see her the first night I was here, that's why there's a thread of my jacket on that bush. No one answered the door, so I left and found a hotel. When I woke up the TV had the news story that she had been murdered. I went back to my room, and they were in there, planting the hair. And I think you probably know the rest."

  Jobert nodded. "Can I see?"

  Sam handed it over.

  Jobert read quickly, his pulse picking up. So Ravert had been up to something. He could split this case wide open, and finally put the Shibde debacle behind him all with the help of this girl. He looked up. "You have any idea where he hid this information for his wife?"

  "That's why we're here." She nodded at the church. "They got married in there."

  "And that's why you came back to Ann Arbor?"

  "Yes."

  "And why you were at the Ravert's house?"

  Sam hesitated for a moment. "It's why Pete was there."

  "But you haven't found it yet have you; otherwise you would have turned yourself in?"

  She nodded again, and Jobert watched her take a deep breath. She just needed a tiny little nudge. "I'm here to help, Sam. We can get to the bottom of this mess, make all this go away." He waved at the police outside. "For you and Pete."

  Sam Blackett's big brown eyes lifted towards him.

  "Sam, my responsibilities include intelligence in the part of the world that includes a country called Shibde." He saw the flicker cross her face. Only momentarily, and she hid it quickly, but it was there.

  "Uh-huh," she said, cautiously.

  "You see, it was news to me and unfortunately, it was news to my superiors that there was a rebellion going on in Shibde. This is the sort of thing that I'm supposed to bring to their attention, and when they read about it on the front page of the New York Times, it reflected badly on me." It wasn't the truth, but it would serve his purpose.

  "You're trying to tell me that you had nothing to do with the rebellion in Shidbe?" The sarcasm wasn't thick, but it was there.

  "Certainly not. And you see the fact that it happened without my knowledge has left something of a black mark on my career record. One that I could do with expunging. Now you can help me with that, by telling me exactly what went down there. In exchange for that information, I can protect you against the charges that those folks over there," he waved at Rice and the two uniforms again, "want to throw at you, Lucy and Pete. And help you find whatever it is that Roger Ravert left for his wife."

  "I don't need help, I didn't do it and I can prove it when I find it. I just need to go in that church, and maybe one other spot."

  “And I suppose that you're going to tell those nice policemen that they need to let you go in alone to find it?"

  "I'm not going to run. I wouldn't leave Pete behind."

  "I'm not sure they will believe that, after what happened this morning."

  "Lucy got a bit carried away in the heat of the moment; I talked her out of it."

  Jobert shifted in his seat. "Maybe, but the fact is that she pulled the weapon on two uniformed officers going about their lawful business. A weapon that she neither has a permit to own, or to carry concealed - you're not the only one with skin in this game now, you're not the only one that needs help. I can protect all of you. Otherwise, you're all going down for something — weapons charges, resisting arrest, breaking and entering — regardless of whether the murder charge sticks."

  Sam looked down in her lap.

  "All I want to know is what happened in Shibde. How you got the story? The bit you didn't put in the article — the source of the information, who was that person, what happened to them, where are they now?"

  "Journalists don't reveal their sources."

  "Explain to me why it matters in this case? What do you think I'm going to do?"

  Sam looked up. "I don't agree with what you are doing there, or in lots of other places. So why the hell would I help you?"

  "Because I can help you with a much bigger problem than your principles."

  Sam was silent.

  "Your article said that the CIA was fomenting a rebellion in Shibde. We're not — but it would be really useful to know who the hell is out there saying
that we are."

  Sam said nothing, just looked back down at her hands.

  "Look, Sam, I know you come from a patriotic family, I know about your Dad. I know he died for this country and I'm damn sure that he must have believed in it."

  "You don't know anything at all," she hissed. "This country betrayed him and killed him!"

  "Why do you say that?"

  "If there was nothing to be ashamed of, why is it all such a secret? Why the hell can't they tell us what happened?"

  "What do you mean?" Jobert was taken aback by her intensity.

  "They told us nothing about what happened that day. When my mom made enquiries she was told to butt out in no uncertain terms because it was a matter of national security. If the goddamn government doesn't think it's important enough to tell his family what happened, then it's not important enough for me to tell them what happened in Shibde."

  Jobert hesitated; he didn't know what had happened to her father because he hadn't bothered to check the original source, his Marine service record. "I didn't realize there was a problem."

  "There damn well is a problem, and one day I'm going to find out what happened."

  "Not from inside a Michigan penitentiary you're not."

  Sam glared at him.

  "Look, I have no idea what happened, and I can't promise that I can help without looking into it. I can tell you that I'm willing to try to do that as well as sort out this mess right here. But I need to know what went down in Shibde - ask yourself, who's going to get hurt if you tell me? And then stack that against how much you can gain by getting my help to find out what happened to your dad, and by keeping Lucy, Pete and yourself out of jail."

  Her expression softened.

  "It's all up-side Sam."

  "Why should I trust you?" she said, finally. "If I tell you everything now, will you then help me? What if you don't?"

  "Give me something to keep me going. I don't need the whole thing right now, but give me something — give me the name, the person that told you the story. There's a lot more I need to know, but if you can convince me that this is the true source — and I have done some research of my own since it all blew up — then we will get out of this car and go look for Roger's stash. When we've found it, we will sort out this mess in whatever way works best and keeps you out of jail. If I keep my end of that bargain, and you're happy that you are walking away a free woman, then you'll tell me everything that you know."