Chapter 75
Sergeant Wilson called the next morning at precisely seven AM, Pacific Standard Time. Now Evarts knew what O’Brian considered first thing in the morning. Evarts groggily rolled out of bed but managed to give her a brief while he made coffee.
At the end, Wilson said, “I’ll catch the first flight out.”
“I’m not sure you need to be physically here,” Evarts said.
“If I remain in D.C., I’ll get pulled into the aftermath of this aborted attack. Other people can handle that. This is my specialty, and I believe the government owes you big time. Besides, your investigative team has made great progress. I can help best by sitting at the next desk.” She paused only momentarily. “Just to be clear, my help comes at a price.”
“Understood. Feel free to share anything you learn with O’Brian,” Evarts said. “I’ll arrange a private jet … and don’t argue. Eliminating airport security and a connection through LAX will cut five hours or more off the trip.”
“What made you think I’d argue?”
Evarts laughed. “Okay, I’ll text you the details. When you arrive, take a taxi to the police station and asked for Commander Standish.”
“I assume you’ll arrange lodging.”
“No problem.” He had a thought. “Wait a minute. Are you okay with undercover work?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Four Egyptians nationals are staying at a Holiday Inn Express at the far end of town. If we book you there, you might spot something. No active surveillance; just keep an eye open. We’ve got an eye on them and their rooms are wired for sight and sound.”
“Sure. I’ll bring civvies.”
“One more thing. Do not tell Commander Standish that we’re in Santa Barbara. We want to keep our presence a secret until at least Monday. Possibly later.”
“Understood.”
Evarts ended the call just as the coffee maker beeped that it was done. He poured a cup and thought. Standish was undoubtedly sleeping. Did she intend to work this Saturday? His guess was yes, but that she’d arrive at a leisurely hour. He would call her at nine. He sipped coffee as he made calls to arrange a private plane and lodging for Wilson. Instead of charging her room against the police account, he used his fake credit card so the curious wouldn’t know she was in town on official business. He then texted Wilson the information she would need.
As he finished, Baldwin padded into the kitchen wearing a thin robe.
“Good morning,” Evarts said.
She yawned. “It was a better night. What are you doing?”
He told her.
“Will Wilson be armed?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Arabs believe women dressed in western clothing are open game.”
Evarts remembered her shooting skills. “I’m sure she can handle herself.”
“She better. I wouldn’t want to face the ire of General O’Brian.”
“Crap!” Evarts exclaimed. “I forgot.”
“We have two bedrooms. Board her here.”
Evarts smiled. “That might make our evenings less fun.”
She brushed close as she reached for a coffee cup. “Then we better make the most of the next few hours.”
Chapter 76
Evarts didn’t call Standish until half past ten. He pretended to be in D.C. and told her General O’Brian had dispatched a financial forensics specialist to assist her. She sounded genuinely pleased to get the help until she discovered that Wilson would arrive today. Then she couldn’t hide a little displeasure in her voice.
After the call, Evarts texted Wilson that she would be quartered at Vandenberg Air Force Base. His text explained that the police already had undercover operatives at the motel so her staying there might interfere with surveillance already in place. When she was done for the day, he instructed her to call his burner cell number and he’d organize transport to the base. It was a fib. She would stay with them, but he didn’t want to communicate that information on an unsecure phone.
After a shower, Evarts went into the kitchen to find Baldwin in shorts and a tank top reading a newspaper.
“Where’d you get the newspaper?” Evarts asked.
“I stepped out onto the terrace for fresh air and noticed a pile of them by the mailboxes.”
“Now, you’re a thief. That paper belonged to the subscriber.”
“After ten o’clock, unclaimed newspapers become public domain.”
Evarts laughed. “Okay, anything in there of interest?”
“A raucous council meeting. Evidently, the natives are still restless. If you had been in attendance, there would’ve been a hardware store run on tar and feathers.”
“After all I’ve done for my hometown, I expected better.” Evarts smiled to show he was kidding.
“Someone suggested you seek employment in Los Angeles, where shootings are a daily event.”
“Ouch, that hurts.”
“Megan handled them well. She explained that you were the victim of a gangland vendetta and she had requested assistance from the state police special operations unit. In the meantime, she has put you on administrative leave.”
“Meaning I won’t be welcome if I waltz into the station on Monday.”
“That would be my read.”
“Shit.”
She stood. “I’ll take a shower and then let’s drive to Oxnard to get groceries and something to eat. Not in that order.”
“And a disguise.”
“Disguise?”
“One that will at least work if I drive around town. Your looks have already been altered. Unless you walked right up to someone you know, few would recognize you.”
“Are you thinking a sombrero or a Nixon mask?”
“Funny. No, I was thinking a dark hair dye, fake mustache, and maybe one of those Uber placards.” He smiled. “I drive, you sit in back seat.”
“Okay but forget the hair dye. We’ll find you a shaggy wig. One that looks like you should have had a haircut weeks ago. Uber drivers don’t really make that much, you know. Also ditch the fake mustache. Besides being a pain, they don’t alter people’s perception as much as a pair of glasses. We’ll get you a heavy frame job with clear glass.”
“I knew I brought you along for a reason. Okay, take your shower and let’s get out of here.”
After she left to get ready for the day, he perused the newspaper and found nothing else of interest. He checked internet news sites. Nothing untoward about Washington D.C. The government had not only prevented the attack but covered up the attempt. Evarts spent a moment thinking about the phrase ‘none the wiser.’ Should people be shielded from news about terrorism, or would they handle it better if wiser through knowledge? Then he thought of his own situation. There had been several attacks on his life, but the city, with his concurrence, had blamed it on local street gangs. His gut told him that he wouldn’t be doing his neighbors a favor by being forthright about who was really shooting up their town. A known threat frightened people less than rabid terrorists on a rampage.
Evarts wished he could tap into Standish’s server, but his orders had disconnected her system from the outside world. How could he help if he couldn’t go to work or remotely access her research? He again thought about exposing his presence to the Egyptians. No … Trish was right. He shouldn’t do anything to jeopardize their newfound safety. Especially not before Standish and Wilson had an opportunity to divert Ikhwan’s attention away from them.
Was there another way to use the Egyptians without disclosing his presence? Interrogation? That would take apprehending one of the teams, which was illegal unless he functioned in an official capacity. Besides, they probably knew nothing beyond their specific assignment. Disinformation? Nothing came to mind. Plus, he had no idea how to feed them disinformation? He fingered the newspaper nervously. The story said he was on administrative leave. What would they make of that? Abandon cruising about town. Not likely. They were committed terrorists … and they had on
ly one job.
Wait a minute, their job was to find him. What if they had solid intel that he was in another locale? They would probably pack up and move to the city where he was spotted. What city? Westwood Village! Where Trish had lived prior to their marriage. Where Trish still owned a co-op. Where she has friends. Right next to UCLA, where she used to teach. They’d buy that in a heartbeat. All they had to do was be seen shopping or eating in the village. But how would the Ikhwan find out? Then he grabbed the paper and read the byline on the article on the city council meeting. Great, he knew Alan Witcombe. A solid reporter who wrote civic articles to supplement his pension after retiring from the Los Angeles Times. Evarts knew him well because Witcombe also did crime reporting.
Evarts phoned him after verifying that his story was also published in the online edition. When he answered, Evarts said, “Hi, Al. this is Chief Evarts.”
“Chief, where are you? I heard you’re on administrative leave.”
“You mean you wrote that I’m on administrative leave.”
He chuckled. “I had to hear it before I could write it. Are you in town?”
“No, I read online edition.”
“Why the secrecy about where you are. The townsfolk aren’t going to charge after you with torches and stakes. Other than a few loud busybodies, you have a lot of support here.”
“Al, Trish and I are staying in Westwood Village visiting her old colleagues. No secret. It’s something we’ve wanted to do for a long time.”
“It’s not a secret? What about the gang vendetta?”
“We believe that state special ops has put that to bed. Besides, I can’t worry about criminals coming after me. It comes with the job.”
“Okay, I hear you. Hey, why’d you call? What else have you got for me?”
“I presume you heard the rumors that Megan’s considering a run for Lieutenant Governor. As you saw in the council meeting, people are pissed and without her protecting me on the political front, I could be looking for a new position. So, I need some good press. I’m offering you an interview.”
“And you think I’ll write a puff piece.”
“I don’t think you’ll write a purposeful hit piece.”
“Okay, are you planning on running for mayor?”
“No.”
“Who do you support for mayor?”
“You know better than that.”
“Worth a try. Okay, what about this storm damage to the town infrastructure? Can you get enough money from the state to make the city whole?”
Witcombe continued for about fifteen minutes. Most of his questions were about city politics, budget issues, and state relief. At the end, he asked if he could put in the article that they were in West Los Angeles. Evarts answered in the affirmative. Just when he thought the interview was over, Witcombe threw in his real question.
“Will you endorse Mayor Walsh for Lieutenant Governor?”
“Of course,” Evarts said.
“Even though she stated for the record that you had displayed reckless disregard for public safety.”
“I didn’t see that in your article,” Evarts said warily.
“It wasn’t at the council meeting.”
“Where was it?”
“In a separate interview with me that will be published tomorrow.”
“You thought I already knew about that, didn’t you?”
“Back to back calls from the top two city leaders? What would you think?”
“Megan still has my endorsement … but no longer my amity.”
“On the record?”
“On the record,” Evarts answered.
Chapter 77
After the call ended, Evarts fumed for about a half hour. He never thought ambition would turn Walsh so manipulative or that she would throw a colleague under the bus. Live and learn. When he calmed down, he realized their supposed feud would give the otherwise dull story above-the-fold status, which meant the information he wanted out in public had a greater chance of being noticed.
When Baldwin emerged from the bathroom, they immediately took off. He told her about his strategy as he drove to Mrs. Olson’s Coffee Hut in Oxnard for a late breakfast. She said it might work if the Egyptians read the local paper in search clues to his whereabouts, and with luck, they would transfer their prowling to Westwood Village. That would buy time for Standish and Wilson to come up with a scheme to get the Ikhwan off their back.
When he had lived in Oxnard, Mrs. Olsen’s had been a frequent haunt of his. He hadn’t been back to the café in years and on arrival discovered that the place had changed. Instead of being an out-of-the-way diner serving comfort food at tables covered with red and white checked oilcloth, the menu offered avocado toast, whole grain and organic dishes, fresh fruit, and other fare aimed at the health-conscious youth market. The décor had transitioned from something resembling his mother’s kitchen to a funky beach theme with colorful murals and ancient surf music. He preferred the previous boring vibe and greasy offerings. Baldwin, on the other hand, said she could learn to like the place now.
After breakfast, they went to the mall. With some difficulty they found a man’s scruffy wig in an even brown that contrasted nicely with his sun-bleached surfer hair he kept relatively short. Glasses were easy. They found a vintage black rim pair that the eyeglass store quickly fitted with clear glass. Evarts told the salesperson that he was going to a costume party as Buddy Holly. Her condescending expression said she had no idea who Buddy Holly was and couldn’t care less. Next, they went to a grocery store and bought food and paper supplies as if the apocalypse could be spotted on the near horizon.
After they got it all home and packed away, Evarts received a call from Wilson looking for her ride to the base. He glanced at his watch and saw it was nearly five in the evening. The day had flown by. He instructed Wilson to wait at the Lilac Pâtisserie on State Street, a three-block walk from the police station. Evarts didn’t think the upscale pastry shop would appeal to the Egyptians cruising the neighborhood.
He made the fifteen-minute drive by himself. Baldwin stayed behind to put away their purchases and start dinner. Evarts pulled curbside of the Lilac Pâtisserie. He could see Wilson inside drinking coffee in a to-go cup, but after glancing in his direction, she made no move to get up. Evidently a wig and glasses were a good disguise. The next time she glanced out, Evarts waved, and she nodded before leaving. As she exited the store carrying a single duffle, she looked none too happy.
“Problem?” Evarts asked after she stashed her duffle in back and he pulled away.
“With the assignment? No. With my lodging, yes. After sixteen years in the Army, I prefer something other than base accommodations. I was actually looking forward to a few days in a nice motel without my kids and husband constantly demanding attention.”
Evarts laughed. “That’s all? Because of open communications, I didn’t mention where you’ll really be lodged. We had hoped you’d agree to stay with us, but if you prefer, you can stay anywhere in Santa Barbara. My treat.”
“Anywhere?”
“Anywhere.”
“Tempting to empty your wallet, but I graciously accept your invitation to stay with you. Where is that?”
“A two-bedroom, two bath apartment in Hope Ranch. Ten minutes from where we are now. A five-minute walk to the beach. I think you’ll like it.”
“Sounds good. Commander Standish is clueless as to your whereabouts.” She popped open the glove box and waved the rental agreement at Evarts. “Rented cars, rented apartment, and disguises. How long do you think that will work?”
“At least until Monday.”
Wilson laughed. “Wow, that’s a whole day. Ambitious, aren’t you. From what I hear, those Egyptians are still on the prowl, so picking me up was a bad idea. Better to keep your head down a while longer.”
“I’m working on getting them looking in a new direction. If that doesn’t work, I’ll figure something else out. Learn anything today.”
“Ye
ah, in fact, we may have an inkling of an idea. If—”
Evarts interrupted. “Hold it until we get to the apartment. I want Trish to hear as well.”
“Sure.” Wilson made a quick survey outside the car. “Pretty town. Commander Standish says you own a mansion up in the hills. A rented apartment must feel like a comedown.”
“I’d rather be home, but Hope Ranch is an exclusive community, and the apartment is expensively finished. We’re not exactly slumming.”
“Good to hear. The further away from a barracks, the better.”
Evarts drove through an archway that signaled the entrance to Hope Ranch and then along a wide groomed avenue outlined with greenways and palm trees. Apartments were situated near the entrance because the prime ocean-front lots were reserved for the wealthy. Evarts pulled into a double garage where another similarly bland sedan was already parked.
“Can I use one of these to go back and forth to the station?” Wilson asked. “It would be safer for you.”
“That’s the idea.”
“Good. Besides, even if you return to work, I don’t think our hours will be similar.”
“I’ll write out directions,” Evart said.
“No need. I kept an eye on the route. Besides, most people can direct me to the police station.”
As they walked out of the garage, Evarts used a key fob to close the door. Wilson appeared to be examining everything. After they climbed to the second-floor entrance, Wilson slowly spun around with an expression of disapproval.
“I presume anonymity is your primary protection.”
“Plus, a steel door and a small arsenal,” Evarts responded.
She did a test-knock on the door and nodded positively.
Baldwin met them at the door when they entered. She showed Wilson her room and left her to unpack and freshen up. In less than five minutes, Wilson joined them at a dining room table that could seat six.
“Drink?” Evarts asked.
“Beer?”
“Anchor Steam or Pilsner Urquell?”
The Templar Reprisals (The Best Thrillers Book 3) Page 31
