by David Archer
Joel looked down at the floor for a moment, then back up at Sam. “Sounds like regular business. At C-Link, we contract with lots of other companies to get things we want, but they usually subcontract it out to someone else. It's like everyone wants a piece of the pie, but nobody wants to be the one to bake it. The last guy down the chain gets stuck in the kitchen.”
Sam chuckled. “That’s probably about right,” he said. “The thing most people don’t realize about any kind of organized crime is that it has to be run like a business. If it’s not, it won’t stay profitable and the people involved won’t stick around. Everyone gets their slice of the pie, as you said, but the actual legwork is done down at the lowest levels of the organization.”
Joel nodded. “Yeah, I get it. So, we still don’t have anything on who actually bought it?”
“Nope, not yet. That’s what Jade is hoping to get a lead on. If she can, we might be able to put enough of a case together to stop whoever it was from taking it to market, or we may have to send in an extraction team.”
Joel’s eyes went wide. “An extraction team? Is that legal?”
Sam waggled a hand in the air. “That’s kind of a gray area,” he said. “In certain cases of industrial or economic espionage, the use of militaristic security personnel to recover proprietary materiel or information can be considered justified. It usually depends on the situation, but since this one involves a government defense contract, I’d say it could be done.” He punched button two on his intercom.
“Yes, sir?” came Jeremy’s voice.
“Jeremy, can you step in here for a moment?” Sam asked. The young man didn’t answer, but there was a tap on the door only two seconds later. “Come on in.”
Jeremy Levins, Sam’s legal assistant, stepped inside. His face was bright and he was wearing a smile. “Yes, sir? How can I help?”
“Have a seat, Jeremy,” Sam said. “Joel and I were just talking about the possibility of using force to recover the chip if we find out where it went. Can you tell us under what circumstances that would be warranted?”
Jeremy’s smile got wider. “Well, it depends on the circumstances surrounding the original theft. Since there was mayhem, meaning the murders of at least three people to cover up the theft, it can be reasonably argued that force will be necessary to protect the recovery agents from further mayhem. In addition, since in this particular case there exists a relationship with the United States government regarding certain applications of the proprietary technology contained in the chip and the research pertaining to it, recovery serves the National Interest and may be protective of National Security. In such cases, the use of force, even deadly force, would be justified under those two interests.”
“So,” Sam asked, “if we find out who took it and where it’s at, we can send in our guys to go get it?”
“If we get the chance,” Jeremy said. “Considering the national security angle, I’d suspect there’s a CIA or Delta Force task force waiting on the tarmac somewhere and ready to act at a moment’s notice.”
*
“Okay,” Jade said. “Let’s do this.” She climbed out of the Cadillac with Summer following her, and the two of them entered the little restaurant. Jade walked up to the wizened woman at the cash register and said, “Wǒ zài zhǎo Fei xiānshēng.”
The old woman looked at her as if she had two heads. “What the hell you want Fei for? He spit out little girl like you. You go ’way, you make trouble.”
Jade looked at Summer with irony in her face. “So much for looking like a native.” She turned back to the woman. “I need to know where to find him. Can you tell me?”
“I tell you nothing. You police, maybe? You go away, you don’t want Fei. Fei no good for little girl.”
They got nowhere with the old woman, so they walked down the street and tried several other places. They were on Grant Avenue in the midst of San Francisco’s Chinatown district, but no matter where they went or how they asked, the answer was always the same. They didn’t want to mess with Fei, and Fei wasn't good for them.
“This is getting old in a hurry,” Summer said. “Any suggestions? Would flashing money help?”
“No,” Jade said. “We’re already flashing you, and if that’s not getting us anywhere, then money won’t.” She looked around, her eyes seeming troubled. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think these people were warned we were coming.”
“How? We didn’t even know you’d be here till this morning, and I didn’t tell anyone.”
“Yeah, but still. Something about the way they look at us when we first walk in, it’s like they had some idea of what we were going to look like before they saw us. A description, maybe.”
“I don’t see how,” Summer replied. “I mean...”
“She is right,” said a voice from behind them. They spun to see a young Vietnamese man standing against the wall, looking at them. “We were warned not to speak to you. Beautiful gwaipo with a huángbāochē. You will get us killed.” He pushed off from the wall and started to walk away.
“What did that mean?” Summer asked, running to keep up with Jade as she followed him.
“Gwaipo means a white woman,” Jade replied. “Huángbāochē… well, he basically called me a Chinese slut. Hey! Hey!”
The man stopped and turned to face them. “What? Did I do something that you want me to die?”
“Not yet,” Jade said, “but that could change. Tell me what you mean about being warned, and that we could get you killed.”
He sighed. “Not here. Not in Chinatown. Hurricane bar, thirty minutes. Bring money.” He turned again and vanished within seconds.
“What the hell?” Summer asked.
Jade laughed. “He’s decided if he’s sticking his neck out to talk to us, he wants to get something in return. Can’t blame a guy for that. Come on, it’ll take us half that time to walk back to the car.”
They made the walk as quickly as they could without looking foolish, and then headed across the district. The Hurricane Bar, according to Summer’s GPS, was on California Street and just outside of Chinatown proper. The drive actually took only six minutes, so they arrived and parked with four minutes to spare.
Their quarry wasn't in sight outside, so they walked in and looked around. Jade was scanning the tables when Summer nudged her and pointed toward the bar itself. “There he is.”
They walked up to him, and took stools on either side. “Okay, shuài,” Jade said. “Tell us more, and then we’ll discuss money.”
He grinned at her. “You really think I’m hot? Cool. I’m Pete, by the way. Okay, look; all I can tell you is someone has been spreading the word most of the morning that you two are off limits. They say you’re some kind of police, and if we talk to you we’re all looking at going to jail. If we tell you anything you want to know, then we’re going to end up dead. Not too many of us like that idea, just to let you know.”
“So why are you talking to us?” Summer asked.
“I’m not. I’m not even here. Ask around, nobody here has seen me all day.”
“Okay, fine,” Jade said. “What about Fei? Do you know where we can find him?”
“No, and not just no, but hell, no! That’s what can get me killed, bitch, so don’t ask again. Come on, you know damn well you’ve been shut out. I've explained it to you, so just slip me a hundred bucks and let’s call it even.”
“For a hundred bucks, honey,” Summer said sweetly, “I expect to get a lot more than you’ve given us so far. What else you got to offer?”
Pete looked her up and down, and his smile grew lecherous. “Me?”
“Dream on. Talk, or we’re gone, with the hundred bucks.”
He scowled. “Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. I can tell you where Fei is, but if you go down there, all you’re gonna find is death. He’s already put a small price on each of you, but if you don’t back off, it’ll get bigger. When it does, someone’s gonna want to collect on it.” He held up his hands. �
�Not me; I’m a lover, not a fighter, trust me. But somebody is gonna decide to collect the bounty, and you won’t even see it coming.”
“Assuming we believe you at all,” Jade said, “why would you give up Fei if it could get you killed?”
“Because he’s mean, but he’s not all that bright, if you catch my meaning. He won’t stop to ask you who told you how to find him before he kills you, so I should be safe enough. Now, you want the info or not?”
“Maybe,” Summer said. “Or maybe you know something a lot more important to us. What do you know about a special chip that got stolen last week?”
Pete’s eyes went wide. “Oh, crap, you’re on that? Forget it, forget I ever talked to you, just go away.” He pulled his head down as if he was trying to imitate a turtle.
Summer tugged on his ear. “Too late, Petey-boy. We’ll keep asking, and some of your buddies who can see you here right now, they might start to remember you talking to the white broad and the Chinese slut. Think you’ll be able to stay off the radar then?”
“Oh, shit, oh, geez,” he said. “Fine, fine, I’ll talk, but only if you got enough clout to get me the hell outa California! Can you do that? New name, everything?”
Jade and Summer looked at one another. The utter terror in Pete’s face was too genuine to be faked, and they both knew it. Summer turned back to him.
“Damn right we can,” she said. “But if you’re playing us...”
“I’m not, I swear, but let’s get the hell out of here, like… Oh, shit...”
He pointed, and Summer looked down to see the tiny red dot of light on her chest. She looked up at Jade and saw another one on her forehead.
Both of them moved at the same time, grabbing Pete and taking him down with them to the floor, just as the gunfire began.
*
“Are you ready?” Pat asked. They were sitting in the truck only a few blocks from the address they’d found for Windlass Security, and Becky was clinging to his hand.
“I’m scared, Pat,” she said. “People died over all this mess, and once I got mixed up in it, I had to accept that I’m partly responsible for those deaths. They may turn me in.”
“I don’t think so,” Pat said. “What you know will probably help them in their investigation, and it’s bound to count for something that you didn’t actually take the money. I’ll stand by you, Becky, if you’ll let me. Maybe I can talk some sense into them, and if I can’t, I can damn sure get you the best lawyer in Denver in a hurry.”
She smiled at him, despite the tears that were piling up inside her eyes and threatening to spill over. “Pat, you’re a great guy,” she said, “but being close to me right now might not be a good idea. I’m ready, though. If you’ll just drop me off at their building, I’ll...”
He squeezed her hand gently. “That’s not how it’s gonna happen, Becky.” He seemed to be looking for something to say for a moment, but then he set his jaw and looked her in the eye. “Look, Becky, no matter what happens today, you touched a place in me that I thought was long dead and gone. If I was a younger man, I’d say I was falling in love, but I’m too old for that kind of nonsense, so I’ll just say I think you’re the sweetest thing I've ever known, and I could not live with myself if I didn’t stick with you. Maybe when this is over, I’ll ask you for a real date, but for now I just want to be your friend. And I’m going to, no matter what comes. Can you handle that?”
The tears brimmed over then, and Becky laughed. “You’re not that old,” she said. “And to be perfectly honest, I think I just might be falling a bit myself. Are you sure, Pat? Really sure? This could end up pretty ugly.”
Pat tugged on her hand and she leaned over and let him brush her lips with his. “Let’s go kick ugly in the ass!” he said.
He let go and put the truck in gear and they started moving again. It was just down the street, only a couple of minutes away. He reached for her hand again as he approached the first cross street, and glanced over to make sure he caught it, and that’s why he saw the delivery truck that was about to ram them.
He slammed the throttle to the floor, yanking the shifter down to first gear as he did so, and the rear tires screamed as they bit in. He almost made it out of the way, but the damn pickup was too long by a foot, and the parcel van caught the rear corner at better than fifty miles an hour and spun it around.
Becky screamed as the truck spun, and again when it slid across the street and broadsided a Buick SUV. The truck came to a stop, the engine stalled by the sudden impact and spin, and Pat reached for the key as two men leapt out of the van and aimed automatic rifles at the pair of them.
Becky saw them and spun her face toward Pat, who was staring down the gun barrels, and then the sound of gunfire erupted all around them as she screamed.
She huddled under her hands, and it took her several seconds to realize that she was still alive. She snapped her eyes open and looked at Pat, who was staring straight ahead with his hands raised, and then a man snatched open her door and grabbed her by her arm.
“Are you all right?” he demanded, but she didn’t understand at first. “Mrs. McGill, are you all right?”
“I—yes, I’m okay, I think...”
“Who is the man with you?”
Becky looked up and realized that the man asking the questions was wearing a black uniform, a helmet—like a soldier, almost.
“That—that’s Pat Gordon, he’s my friend...” She turned her head to where the other men had been preparing to shoot her only seconds before, and that’s when she saw their bodies laying in the street.
“Okay, come on, both of you. We need to get you inside, we don’t know if there are more of them around here.” He and several other men surrounded her, and then Pat was pulled out of the truck and they were being pushed toward the Windlass building. “I’m Rob Feinstein,” the soldier-man said. “Windlass Security. These are my team around us, and we were assigned to make sure you got past any last-minute threats. Mr. Prichard will explain once we get you inside where it’s safe.”
The sound of gunfire had echoed through the industrial area, and a number of people were looking out of doors and windows. Most of them disappeared back inside at the sight of the black-clad soldiers, but a few were holding phones. It took only a couple of minutes to make it the rest of the way, and then the big man who pulled them from the truck told them to go in while he handled the police who were rushing toward them. The door opened suddenly and then they were inside, and the rest of the soldiers took them into a room and told them to sit down.
An older woman came in a minute later, and asked if they wanted anything to drink. Pat looked up at her and smiled.
“Got any tequila?” he asked.
17
Pat didn’t get his tequila, but the bottles of tea were welcome. He and Becky sat in the room alone for a few minutes, waiting for someone to come and explain what was going on.
“I wonder if I’m going to jail,” Becky said after a few moments of quiet. “They didn’t say I was under arrest, did they?”
“No,” Pat replied. “Sounded like the opposite to me. That Feinstein guy, he said they were assigned to protect you, make sure nobody hurt you before you got here. I get the feeling they’re not out to get you, honey.”
“I hope not. It’d really suck if I met such a great guy and then went to prison for a few years.”
Pat grinned. “Anybody mentions charges, I’ll call in the lawyers. I’m not letting you get away, darlin’. Might as well get used to me, because I’m sticking around a while.”
She smiled at him, and once again she reached for his hand and he gave it to her. She was about to say something, but then the door opened and two men walked in. She saw Pat break out in a smile as they sat down across the table, but her attention was caught by one of the men, who was looking directly at her.
“Mrs. McGill? My name is Sam Prichard.” Sam held out a hand to her. “I had a feeling you were headed our way, and I was afraid our mutual probl
em might figure it out, as well. I stationed a few of our top security men around the area to watch for you, and it looks like it was a pretty good thing I did.”
“You knew I was coming here?” Becky asked. “But, how?”
“Well, we live in a world that’s gone crazy with technology, and some of that technology can be harnessed to do more than it’s intended to do. As it happens, our computer surveillance expert was able to use traffic and security cameras to track you from where you left your car to the Greyhound station in Oakland, and again from San Diego to Grand Junction. We had a pretty good idea of what really happened with Jonathan Landry, the lawyer who said you attacked him, and now we know all about what happened with your husband and with Dr. Williamson.” Sam glanced at Pat, and Becky caught it.
“You can talk in front of him,” she said. “I already told him everything.”
“Okay. We knew that you took the financial documents from Williamson’s body and cleaned them up, and that Landry tried to get it from you. I figured that would tell you it wasn't safe to try to keep the money, and that someone was going to want you dead to keep you from talking. I knew there was a lot of news coverage out there about us being hired to handle this case, so the only logical course for you was to bring that information to us. Once I was able to confirm you were headed this way, I was pretty sure I was right. Then it was just a matter of trying to protect you once you got here.”
“See?” Pat said. “I told you Prichard was who we needed.”
Sam looked at him curiously. “Do I know you, sir?” he asked.
“No, but I know you, by reputation, at least. I had heard on the news that you were working for this outfit, and when Becky told me what was going on, I said we had to get her to you. We’d have been here sooner, but I had to have a little minor surgery at the VA this morning.” He raised his arm and pointed underneath it. “Removing some shrapnel I got in Afghanistan years ago.”
Jeff Donaldson stepped into the room and handed Sam a sheet of paper. He glanced at it, then looked up at Pat. “You’ll understand, I’m sure, but we ran a background check on you. I see you’re former Army, CID. May I ask how you came to be involved with Mrs. McGill?”
