The Chase

by DiAnn Mills

  Cheeky Lopez’s picture in a glossy 8x10 was posted on the left-hand side of the board labeled “leader of the Arroyos.” Other pics followed — one of them was Froggie Diego, and she shuddered. The gang signs matched. Each pic had the member’s real name and his list of crimes. Empty spots held names like “Bat” and “man with a lisp,” and “woman mule-overseer.” Candy’s and Jo-Jack’s names had been crossed out. A black man by the name of Hershey must be a new informant, but it looked like he might be involved in illegal gun-running too.

  Kariss sensed Tigo standing beside her. “Ryan and I have an interview at eleven if you’d like to sit in.”

  “Great. What’s the topic?”

  “A man claims to have overheard a conversation in a parking garage that might lead to information about the gun smugglers.”

  “Where’s the parking garage?” Kariss loved the idea of using this information in her book. She’d been collecting research for what she hoped was an FBI series.

  “The Galleria.”

  She startled. “Sounds like a strange locale to me. What would Arroyos be doing there?”

  “The Arroyos aren’t the only ones involved in gun smuggling. We need to pick apart his story to see if he has other motives. A good reason for you to listen to the interview. No questions. Just take notes and follow our lead.”

  “I get it. White-collar crime. Do you think he may be lying or have another reason to make this claim?”

  “You’re getting smarter.” He nodded, and for a moment she felt like a little girl who’d just earned a gold star.

  “I have two great teachers.”

  “How far along are you in the book?”

  “One chapter. Lots of notes.”

  “That’s one chapter more than I’d have written.”

  “My process on this one is a little slow. Weighing the truth. Changing facts to protect innocent people. And weaving in fiction.” She watched Ryan enter his work area. “Wish I could do something for him. He doesn’t drink coffee or tea, and he eats entirely too healthy.”

  “Bring him one of your books.”

  “Great idea. I have one inside my desk drawer.”

  “Go ahead. I need to talk to him about the interview. We’ll swing by to get you.”

  She walked back to retrieve the book and realized she needed to make sure she spelled his name right. Her gesture had to wait. Picking up her iPod, she swiped the screen to her word game. She formed a word and added fifteen points to her score …

  Tigo tossed a paper clip onto her desk. How long had he been observing her? “What are you playing?”

  Pleased with her score, she glanced up. “Word Family. It’s like Scrabble.”

  “How many players?”

  “Just me.”

  He laughed. “What kind of game is that? No competition.”

  “It increases my vocabulary.”

  “Right. You probably use a website to build your words.”

  Her eyes widened, pretending innocence. “Are you insinuating I’d cheat?”

  “Just as I thought.” He pointed to her iPod. “Why don’t you play a war game? Wouldn’t that put you into the mood for your book?”

  “I like this one. Do you play?”

  “No, but I’m aware of the game.”

  “I’ll take you on.” She tilted her head. “Unless you don’t think you can handle my skills.”

  “Miss Writer, I’ll teach you words you never imagined. I give ‘intellectual’ a whole new dimension.”

  “Deal.” She’d show him the importance of a writer’s greatest asset. She pressed New Game, sent an invite to Tigo, and dragged the screen’s tiles into place. Her first word was divas. Double word score for eighteen points.

  Thirty seconds later he played his tiles — driven for fourteen points.

  She’d already proved who the better player was.

  Arnold Bates arrived promptly at eleven. Dressed in a dark-blue silk suit that must have equaled Kariss’s condo payment, the middle-aged businessman appeared confident. Perhaps too confident. And a bit arrogant … with calculating gray eyes. Perhaps she’d been around Tigo too long and his problem-solving nature had begun to rub off.

  Despite Bates’s disagreeable first impression, she hoped he had solid information for the agents.

  After Tigo and Ryan introduced themselves, Tigo turned to Kariss.

  “This is Agent Jenson. She’ll be taking notes during our discussion.”

  Bates reached out his hand, and she grasped it. “Pleasure to meet you, Agent Jenson.”

  She hid a smile, appreciating the perk.

  The four met in an interview room and took seats at a rectangular table. Tigo, Ryan, and Kariss sat across from Bates. She wished she could ask questions, but that had been forbidden. Did they think she’d interrogate their interviewee?

  Tigo crossed his legs and took on an unassuming position. She noted the body language he used to put the man at ease. “Mr. Bates, we appreciate your willingness to come forward with information that has the potential to solve a crime.”

  Bates folded his hands on the table. “I feel it’s my civic duty.”

  “Tuesday afternoon you called our offices and stated you’d overheard a conversation in the parking garage of your office building on Monday morning.”

  He nodded. “Not sure why the conversation took place there instead of a private meeting area. The more I consider what transpired, the more nervous it makes me.” Mr. Bates didn’t flinch a muscle.

  She jotted down doesn’t appear nervous.

  “Why don’t you begin by giving us your occupation and why you were in the parking garage?”

  Mr. Bates peered at Tigo’s face. Again no emotion. “I run a company out of a suite of offices at the Galleria in the Premiere Building — an insurance company on the tenth floor. Been there four years. I had a meeting over midmorning coffee, which was why I happened to be in the garage that time of day. Normally I’m working.”

  “What time was it?”

  “Ten thirty-five, on Monday. I remember checking my watch on the elevator.”

  Tigo smiled. “What did you see?”

  “Two men standing at the tailgate of a pickup. Both dressed casually—”

  “What do you mean ‘casually’?”

  “Jeans. Button-down shirts. Baseball caps.”

  Why was Tigo zeroing in on the men’s clothes?

  “Long-sleeved or short-sleeved?”

  “Long.”

  A peculiar detail for Tigo to note. The temps outside had been nearly one hundred this week. Certainly not long-sleeved weather. Did he think Bates was lying?

  “What nationality?”

  “Hispanic.”

  “What color were their shirts?”

  “I don’t remember. White, I think. What does that have to do with anything?”

  Kariss would ask Tigo about this later as well.

  “Every detail brings us closer to finding the men.” Tigo gestured for him to continue. “What happened?”

  “One of them said they were tired of taking orders from a man just because he had money. The other said the merchandise was worth the price and doubled the investment. The first man said the last shipment went straight to Mexico with no hitch.”

  “Did they refer to each other by name?”

  Kariss studied Tigo’s face. He could win an Oscar for his stoic performance. Ryan appeared intense, his attention on taking notes. They were playing a role for Mr. Bates’s benefit. She quickly noted Tigo’s question.

  “No. I would have remembered.” Mr. Bates moistened his lips. “Then I heard what I felt was information the FBI needed. The second man said the shipment of assault rifles from Chicago was expected August 17. The first man said Cheeky asked for a dozen of their best drivers.”

  Kariss concealed her recognition of the gang leader’s name.

  “Who’s Cheeky?” Tigo said.

  “I thought you’d know. Sounded like the man was important.”


  “We’ll look into it. Did they say where the rifles would be delivered?”

  “Someplace off the Buffalo Speedway. I didn’t hear the rest of it.”

  Kariss kept her attention on her notes. This was her city, her home. Not a scene of horrendous crimes.

  “Where were you in proximity to the two men?”

  “On the other side of my SUV. I was hidden from their view.”

  Tigo toyed with a pen, just as she’d seen him do so many times in the past when he was thinking through a matter. “What else was said?”

  “Nothing worth repeating. They were hungry. Planned to get something to eat.”

  “Did they say where?”

  “No. One of them wanted breakfast.”

  “Do you remember any other details?”

  Bates appeared to ponder the matter. “Nothing I can recall. To be perfectly honest, I was shaken up. One man got into the truck, and the other got into a dark-green SUV. As they drove by, I ducked so they wouldn’t see me.”

  “Lucky for you. What make of vehicles?”

  “Chevy Avalanche, black, and the SUV was a Lexus.” He frowned. “I failed to get the license-plate numbers. I was afraid.”

  Kariss remembered when the sight of two Arroyos paralyzed her.

  “No problem. Mr. Bates, you’ve given us valuable information. Was anything else said about where the transfer would take place?”

  “No.”

  “What language were they speaking?”

  “Spanish. I’m fluent.”

  “And you’re positive you weren’t seen?”

  “Yes. Think about it, Agent Harris. I’m alive to tell you about it.”

  No expression on Tigo’s face. “Were the men armed?”

  “Not that I could see. I assumed they had weapons since their conversation revolved around them.”

  “What about gang signs?”

  She’d assumed the two men were Arroyos. For sure she’d be a lousy investigative reporter without the facts.

  “None.”

  Ah, their clothing and baseball caps would have hidden those signs.

  Something about Bates’s story bothered her, as though everything he’d said had been a script. She wondered if her doubts could be her fiction mind on an adrenaline rush.

  “Who owns the Premiere Building?” Tigo said.

  “Peter Masterson.”

  “What kind of a relationship do you have with Mr. Masterson?”

  “I pass him now and then.”

  “You’re not friends?”

  “Only acquaintances. I see him occasionally at social events. We support many of the same charities.”

  “Do you have a relationship with any of the other tenants in the Premiere Building?”

  “No. I’m a busy man. What does this have to do with the conversation I overheard?” Annoyance dripped from Bates’s words.

  Kariss had been under Tigo’s questioning before and could relate to Bates’s irritation. But Tigo always had a plan.

  “Clearly we don’t want to take any more of your time than necessary. We need to establish your relationship with those in your building. You’ve relayed valuable information that could be linked to gun smugglers and gang activity. Since the conversation occurred in the parking garage, that could mean one of the tenants is connected to a serious crime.”

  Bates stiffened. “I’m not stupid, Agent Harris. I came here because it is as my civic duty. In providing the FBI with what I witnessed, I’m risking my life.” He swallowed hard. “I have no idea who the men may have seen or if their meeting occurred in the Premiere Building. I apologize for my abruptness. The incident has left me a little edgy.”

  Kariss noted his reddened face looked more like “furious” than “a little edgy.”

  “I understand.” Tigo turned his attention to Ryan. “Should we let him take a look at a few pics? See if he can pick out a face?”

  The insurance man from the Galleria couldn’t identify a single Arroyo. He stated they were too far away and had had their caps pulled over their eyes.

  After Kariss gave Tigo her notes, she returned to her desk, leaving the two agents alone to discuss the interview. Had Arnold Bates spoken the truth? One thing for sure was he knew a name: the man Tigo wanted to arrest.

  CHAPTER 32

  After Arnold Bates left the FBI building, Tigo and Ryan walked to the break room to discuss the interview.

  “What do you think?” Tigo said. “How’d you read him?”

  Ryan opened the door. “I want to know why he contacted us. A man of his caliber knows what’s going on in the city, and that includes Masterson’s activities. His arrests and indictments should make Bates suspicious of anyone in the building. No logic there.”

  “Or he doesn’t want to name Masterson, and that’s why he came to us. The fear factor. Could be the prospect of a firefight between the FBI and the Arroyos in his place of business makes him anxious.”

  “Why not move his company to another location?” Ryan shrugged.

  “Bates might be tied to a lease.” Tigo slid a dollar into the vending machine for a bottle of water. “Sounded like his lines were rehearsed. And he didn’t come across as the concerned-citizen type either.” He glanced at a bag of peanuts in the vending machine. “Want something?”

  “No. I’m good.”

  Tigo twisted off the water bottle cap. “Bates’s money buys him whatever he wants. No reason why he couldn’t buy his way out of a lease.”

  “So the question is why did Bates seek us out? If Masterson suspected that he contacted us specifically about gun smuggling, he wouldn’t think twice about getting rid of him. But …”

  “What? Spill it, Ryan. Are you thinking Masterson sent him? Because that’s what my gut’s telling me.” He waited for Ryan to voice his thoughts.

  “One of the things that Candy told us was the Arroyos were in a standoff with their supplier about money,” Ryan said. “Masterson could be using Bates to leak information to set them up. He’s been paid, and there are plenty of other smugglers who will buy his guns and ammo.”

  “Do you think there’s a link between who’s tipping us off about transports and Bates’s visit today?” Tigo said.

  “I need more information before making that stretch, like a connection between Bates and Masterson.”

  “Let’s put a surveillance team on Bates and see who he’s keeping company with. I’d like to check the latest reports on the team assigned to Masterson.”

  “I’ll run both requests through the FIG.”

  “I’ll get a background check done on Bates and a list of his clients along with phone records.” Tigo took a long drink.

  “Remember Jo-Jack gave you the name of Bat,” Ryan said. “Could be Bates.”

  “He’s low-class in a high-class suit. His body language danced with manipulation. I wonder if he buys his clothes from Masterson’s line.”

  “One way to find out. That would link them.”

  “We’re going to get these guys,” Tigo said. “I can feel it.”

  “How about putting a little pressure on Hershey to set up our boy. I’m anxious to pull this together.”

  Nailing Masterson had been on Tigo’s priority list for a long time. Bates could be the man to make it happen. Add Masterson and Cheeky to the group and the FBI could significantly cripple gun smuggling in Houston.

  Tigo walked outside so he could check on his mother. Sweat beaded on his brow in the ninety-eight-degree heat, and the humidity was every bit as overwhelming.

  “Hi, Natalie. Just checking in. When I left this morning, Mom’s blood pressure was extremely low.”

  “It’s risen some. We’re getting her ready for dialysis, and she’ll see the doctor afterward.”

  “Good. Thanks.” He disconnected the phone and stared out at the parking lot. Between the helplessness of Mom slipping away and the intricacies of gang warfare, his mind spun like a Category 5 hurricane.

  Alone in his work area, Tigo did a b
ackground check on Arnold Bates. He wanted to digest every word for possible answers linking him to Masterson’s operation.

  Bates did well. House in River Oaks. Married to old money. A daughter in college. Belonged to an Episcopalian church. He owned other investments under a corporation called Cardinal Ventures, and those drew Tigo’s scrutiny — a coffee-bean company with plantations in Brazil and Tanzania, petroleum products from South Korea, and East Indian furniture … all perfect fronts for smuggling arms and ammo. Another area of investigation. He picked up his phone and called the FIG.

  “I need a full report on Cardinal Ventures’ companies. Owned by Arnold Bates. Feed it back to my Blackberry.”

  While he waited, he picked up his iPhone and checked to see Kariss’s latest word in their ongoing game. He was ahead by twenty points. Ah, dexter on a triple-word score was forty-two points, giving him a huge lead. If he kept this up, they’d be tied two and two.

  An hour later, he took a look at the FIG’s report. Cardinal Ventures looked squeaky clean. He pulled up Masterson’s file and scrolled through his national and international holdings. Time to dive deeper.

  Kariss decided to talk to Xavier in person about what she’d learned at Catholic Charities. He chose the McDonald’s near the Fiesta where they’d previously met. He also requested she accompany him to the nursing home that housed Delores’s grandmother, Benita Martinez. Although he’d visited the older woman previously, he thought she might reveal information this time that her mind hadn’t been able to unravel before. Kariss agreed since she needed to give him more disheartening news.

  The late afternoon had McDonald’s crowded with high school kids — hungry and noisy. A booth full of boys sat in front of Kariss. When one of them stuck French fries up his nose, then ate them, she was ready to leave.

  “Xavier, it’s so loud in here. Can we take my car and drive to the nursing home now?”

  “Yes, these kids give me a headache.”