I’ve never known her to sound the way she did. She sounded desperate.”
After what seems like a long silence, Agent James blurts, “Joe, we can’t talk over the phone. Let’s meet in thirty minutes at the place where we had lunch the last time we were together.” I hear the click on the other end of the phone. Agent James has hung up, leaving me no choice but to meet him. I hate it when people do that. I 24
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can imagine the ugly frown on his long walnut-brown face. He always looks that way when things upset him.
The last place I met Agent James for lunch was at the Longview Lake Marina. There’s a popular hotdog vendor named Jeffrey Bradley, whose cart always draws a long line. Vernon and I caught Jeffrey several times trying to pickpocket people on days when his assistant worked the cart. Once, he even tried to pickpocket Vernon, which was the last straw. After Vernon slapped him around a bit, he decided to work for us. He was terrified of going to jail, but he knew what every other lowlife on the street was up to. So now, he doubles as a snitch and gives us great information, as well as discounts on the food. We pay him pretty well, since the info has always led to arrests.
Longview Lake is about twenty minutes from my home. I frequent the lake, riding fifteen miles a day in summer on the park bike trail.
I go upstairs and throw on some jeans, sneakers and an old Baker University T-shirt I bought after graduate school, and I leave a note on the nightstand for Sierra in case she wakes. She can reach me on my cell phone anytime. I grab my ankle holster and .25 automatic pistol, take the keys to my black 300 Nissan convertible, and head for Longview Lake.
The marina is isolated. I sit in the car listening to the autumn leaves rustling in the night wind. The night sky is majestic in its crisp, starlit display. The faint smell of fish rising off the water, the view of the wooded area and the rhythmic sound of the waves splashing against the rocks have a way of putting one in a state of meditation.
One of the reasons I enjoy biking in this area right now is the array of beautiful colors in the autumn leaves.
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I remember sometimes when I rode my bike in the wooded area around the lake I saw black snakes cross-ing the bike path; one in particular had to be at least four feet in length. I stopped my bike to let it pass. The thing was huge and I marveled at its quickness.
Another time I heard what sounded like a stampede and about nine deer came running up a hill just in front of me and majestically jumped into the air over the bike path. It looked as if they were flying and they gave no care that I was there. They were running for their life from something. Caught in the moment of the view, I finally came to my senses and realized that whatever was chasing them could just as well decide to start chasing me. I knew it was most likely a pack of feral dogs, but I had left my off-duty revolver in the car that was parked at the entrance of the park. I pedaled as fast as I could and got clear of the area. Sometimes knowing when to run can literally save your life.
Time melts like the ice cream in my cup at home.
Agent James eventually pulls up in his new, navy blue 944 Porsche. We get out and exchange greetings. James is a stout, bald man. Taller than me at six feet, two inches, weighing about 190 pounds, his brown skin is clean-shaven and he appears neat and pristine like a federal agent about to go into the office. Even his hooded sweat suit has ironed creases in it.
We walk over to the dew-covered boat dock and have a seat on a bench facing the lake. Agent James’s dark eyes dart back and fourth as if he expects something to jump out at us. He frowns as he wipes the sweat from his brow. I’ve never seen him look like this before.
“Joe, what I’m about to tell you is top-secret shit, and 26
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once I tell you, you’re involved. So, if you really don’t want to get into this, walk away now.” Agent James struggles with shaking hands to light a cigarette.
We stare at each other for a minute. My first thought is to walk away. Life is good and I really don’t need any problems, but the loyalty to Chase leaps up.
“I’ve never known you to smoke, Royal.”
He takes a long drag from the cancer stick and exhales a big cloud of smoke. “I haven’t smoked since college. I’ve always kept it together, but this case that Chase is on is one of the biggest cases I’ve ever handled in the midwest region, and I don’t know how high up this thing goes. It’s a great possibility my phone is tapped and I’ve been followed on several occasions. This case is getting really ugly. Agent Purvis Smelley is missing.
We have a burned body at the morgue that matches his body dimensions, but we can’t make a positive ID until we get his dental records.”
This is the first time that I’ve ever seen Agent James spooked. Chase has to be in grave danger and there’s the possibility that Agent Smelley is dead. This can’t be good.
Agent James lets out a long belch and holds his stomach. “I hate burn victims because it can take so much time to identify them. It can set cases back weeks.
Neither Chase nor Smelley has reported in for the last six weeks. They were on this assignment together.”
My heart rate increases at the implications of Agent James’s last sentence sinks into my mind. If Smelley is assumed dead, Chase could be, too. If the bad guy got to Smelley he can just as easily blow Chase’s cover.
I look at Agent James and his demeanor and can’t help wondering how far his neck is out on the line with Vincent Alexandria
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this case. He seems almost desperate, like he might be in over his head on this one, but I trust him and I owe Chase my life.
Agent James pulls out a small packet of antacid tab-lets, pops four in his mouth and chews them slowly. He rubs his stomach. “So, are you in or out?” He flicks the half-smoked cigarette into the waves of the lake and looks me squarely in the eyes.
The current takes hold of the butt and carries it farther away. I feel as though I’m about to be carried away from all that I care for and hold valuable, but I can’t bear the thought of someone harming Chase. What will Sierra say? I know she will lose it when she finds out that Chase and I spent the night together, even if I didn’t make love to her. She will not want me on the case. Am I truly doing this for the right reason? I can’t forget my partner, Vernon. His reaction to me going on this case alone will be just short of a heart attack. We have been through a lot together and I’m sure he will question my loyalty, but I don’t want him getting hurt because of my debt to Chase. I feel bad about my hesitation, Chase would risk her life for me; shit, she already has.
“I’m in.”
Agent James pulls a folder and a bulky envelope from his trousers—they’d been hidden under his pullover sweatshirt. “Joe, several officers in the four-state area and agents have come up dead. I’m sure you’ve heard of the car fires lately? We’ve kept it under wraps—and the press doesn’t know—that the victims have all been law-enforcement officers.”
I nod. “The media has put out reports that the car fires are gang-related. They’ve reported some kind of retalia-28
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tion for gangbangers disrespecting each others’ turf.
Are all the victims on the take?”
With a half smile Agent James opens the folder.
“That’s the bullshit we’ve been feeding the press. The media loves gang hype. They bite every time we fish that story to them. Ghetto paranoia sells! The truth of the matter is every one of the victims has been in law enforcement. They have been professional hits. We can’t arrest a soul because there isn’t enough evidence to pin it on anyone.”
“That’s some heavy shit. How can the departments let something like this spread to different states? Either the guys running this dirty outfit are smart as hell or they’re getting direction from someone higher up the food chain who’s keeping them abreast of the operation procedures. It looks like you got someone on the inside of the department keeping their eyes and ears open for
the bad guys. This stinks to high heaven,” I state.
James moves the folder into the rays of the overhead lamppost that lights the dock and pulls out photos of bodies burned so badly that they are unrecognizable. In some instances the gold chains, clothes and jewelry are burned right into the flesh.
One picture is a montage of black, brown and red burned flesh. The heat was so intense that it burned deep enough to expose bone matter.
“After doing research into each officer killed, we found bank accounts, cars, homes and boats that the poor bastards couldn’t afford if they worked for the department for ten years. All were crooked as a monkey’s ass. We know this is internal, but we don’t know how high up it goes. That’s where you come in.
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“Joe, the stuff doesn’t stop there. We have the exact same situation going on in Nebraska, Kansas, Oklahoma and Iowa. We feel they’re all connected.”
I rub my head and the back of my neck from the stress that’s moving into them. “So, you think the same guy is running all of this?”
“Yes. In these states, there are federal injunctions on state and local law-enforcement agencies, allowing any money seized from drug-related activity to be kept by the state and department that makes the bust. In other states this money goes directly to the federal government and the department that made the bust gets a percentage from a pool of money that is set up to help all departments stay up to date with computer equipment, technology, vehicles and weapons to help us in the war on drugs.” Agent James belches and waves the stench away from his face.
I frown at the odor and look at him. “Damn, James, that was gross. You have to take better care of yourself.
It smells like you ate a skunk,” I complain.
“I’m sorry. You’ll have to excuse me. Ever since they found that body they believe to be Agent Smelley my stomach has been acting up from the stress. I’m scared for Agent Chase’s safety. Like I was saying, having individual state law-enforcement departments handle their own money leads to temptation and corruption. This leads to illegal search and seizures where officers are robbing known drug dealers when it’s believed they have large amounts of cash on hand. They turn in some of the money, but keep large sums of it, and who’s the wiser? If the fox is guarding the chicken coop and a chicken or two comes up missing, who’s gonna know?”
Agent James asks as he rubs his stomach.
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“Any good accountant worth his salt. Somebody will come forward if that much money is being seized, even if they’ve killed the drug lord. Money is the root of all evil and if people are getting ripped off, they sure as hell will be talking about it,” I answer.
“That’s true, and that’s how we got wind of this.
These large amounts of money can’t be traced, and the drug lords can’t report the stolen money to the police.
So we have two things that can happen. The drug lords get the cops on the payroll or they start a war with them to try and protect the money the police are stealing.
Cops go in, kill everybody there, take the money and drugs… Bingo—perfect crime! This shit has to stop, Joe.”
“‘To protect and collect’ is the motto people are using on the street for police these days,” I say.
Agent James sighs heavily. “We don’t know how many dirty cops are on the take, but we do know that once you’re a part of this black ring, death is the only way out. We have reason to believe that these hits are internal; a black ring of dirty cops killing other dirty cops. They sucker you in with money, drugs, women or property. Agents Chase and Smelley infiltrated the ring in Nebraska. Last I heard she’d got next to one of these rogue cops, a guy they call Dread. That’s him on the fourth photo.”
I scan the photo. “He’s one hell of a mean-looking dude.”
“That’s right, Joe. He is, and we suspect him, but we haven’t been able to prove anything. The kicker is that he is in charge of an undercover task force to bust gangbangers dealing drugs to fund their operations. So they Vincent Alexandria
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pretty much have the green light to move around at will.
He’s one bad dude, Joe. He was a marine in his younger days. You can see by the size of him that he can be an intimidator. I’m sure he is high on the food chain of this dirty-cop operation, but we don’t think he is the leader.
We want to cut the head off this snake and this Dread fellow can lead us to the head.”
Dread is Cuban-looking. I’ve heard of him. I’ve never met him, but what other officers have said is that he has a temper that is something to be reckoned with. He had many service awards with the force. I can see why others would follow this guy. He sounds like a natural leader and his looks are charming. I read his real name is Orlando Cattanno, as written on the bottom of the photo. He’s a muscular guy with a Harley-Davidson tattoo on his forearm. His hair is jet-black and he is handsome. I can see why the ladies would fall for this guy. He has the perfect face and a great smile, but his eyes are dark and sinister. He looks to be around six foot three and just over two hundred pounds.
“Shit, looks like I’m going to have to brush up on my motorcycle-riding and hit the gym a little harder, just in case I have to match up to this guy,” I think aloud.
I keep flipping through the pictures and see this huge white guy who looks to be Cattanno’s right-hand man.
Underneath his picture is the name Rick “Brutus” Tucker.
I sit back abruptly as the next picture reveals Agent Chase holding Cattanno’s arm as the big guy, Brutus, opens the back of a black Lincoln Continental for them.
Chase is as beautiful as ever. Her skin is caramel, she wears dark shades and her silky black hair is much longer than I’ve ever seen it. Her leather pantsuit reveals 32
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the body that my fingertips explored the night we spent in Jefferson City after questioning Missouri’s governor.
What are you into Chase? I think sadly.
“I’m going to need a couple of days to get things straight with my partner and family,” I explain.
“This group operates out of Nebraska, Joe. They like to move around a lot. Dread always keeps five or six guys around him. Chase is using her real name on this one, because her background is better than any we could make up. She was a cop before making the Bureau.
This Dread fella likes a smart woman. The only thing he doesn’t know about Chase is that she’s FBI. I’ll clear your leave with Commissioner Wayne, but no one else must know.”
“I’ll remember to trust no one but my partner, Vernon on this one,” I concur.
“You understand you’re flying blind? You have my pager number. Call me from a pay phone while you’re in transit. I don’t want anyone to be able to track where you are. We think they’re still in Nebraska, so that’s where you’ll be headed first. Don’t telephone me from anywhere close to where you’ll be staying, because I’m sure they’ll be monitoring you, so you’ll have to remain evasive. I’ll make some inside contacts for you in each state.”
“There isn’t too much in Nebraska. That would be a great place to fly under the radar. I’ll call you once I’m in the area.”
Agent James lights another cigarette, breathes the smoke in deeply and exhales. “The agents I recruit to help you will contact you when you let me know where you are. Good luck, Johnson. You can pick a car up at the FBI compound, and I’ll make sure it’s loaded with Vincent Alexandria
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weapons in a secret compartment in the trunk. Everything else you need will be in the envelope I gave you.
We have to be careful on this one and not leave a paper trail. We don’t know who we can trust. That’s why I gave you cash to finance your search for our agents. Be careful, Joe.”
We shake hands and he walks back to his car and drives off into the night. I take a deep breath of the damp night air and sit under the lamppost while going over the other mate
rial, fingering through surveillance pictures of Chase, the guy they call Dread and a few of his cronies.
I open the envelope and there is what looks to be about fifty one-thousand-dollar bills. Agent James has always had a sense of humor. Is that what my life is worth these days? I place the money back in the envelope and tuck it into my trousers. The last thing I need is to get hit up before getting a chance to use it.
Life is full of surprises, and death has a funny way of making you see what’s important real quick.
Chapter 2
Chase lets the plush white cotton robe slide from her body and it seems funny, even cynical, that her name is embroidered on the lapel of the robe. The personaliza-tion of the robe is a loving touch and it would have been a heartfelt gesture in any other circumstances. Chase never noticed it when she opened the yellow-ribbon-adorned white box. This is the first time she has worn this newly delivered gift from Dread. In the shower, she slowly turns the levers, letting the steam and water consume her.
It’s been six weeks since she has been undercover. It has been the hardest month and a half she has ever lived.
Being in Nebraska is bad enough, but the cold beginning of fall weather has made it worse. She tries—to no avail—to fight back the tears of fear as the goose bumps that have appeared upon her skin give evidence of her Vincent Alexandria
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tormented emotions. She strives to summon inner strength to battle the feelings of abandonment and loneliness. She struggles desperately to remember the teach-ings of her former karate sensei and the power of focused and disciplined meditation. It doesn’t seem like twelve years since her last class, but she’s retained most of the information that was instilled in her.
The sensei did not make it easy on her. He often had her spar with men twice her size and girth. She didn’t think it was fair to have to go against the big men, but the sensei always said he had to prepare her for life and life was not fair, but she would be prepared. She is now thankful for his foresight.
“An arrow that is shot without aim is a useless weapon. Know the source of your target and shoot strong and straight, so that the arrow may go through it and not simply pierce it. A small wooden arrow can stop a full grown bear, if your aim is focused and true.” She smiles at the words of the small biscuit-brown man with his head of graying hair and neatly trimmed goatee.
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