~~~~~
Marty Schwartz dialed his boss’s number and waited to press send as O’Neil led Sylvia and Andy to the back seat of the government sedan. Out of habit, O’Neil placed his hand over Andy’s head as he guided him to the seat.
“Is that really necessary?” Andy asked. He didn’t try to hide his contempt in any fashion. “We’re not even wearing handcuffs. I’m pretty sure we can manage this without your cranial guidance.”
O’Neil blushed as he removed his hand from Andy’s head. “Sorry. Occupational
hazard, what with muscle memory and all.” O’Neil stood back from the car door and extended his arm, gesturing for Sylvia to take the seat next to her husband without any police assistance. Vincent stood outside the car and waited for the call to be made before jumping in the sedan.
“Don’t mind him. He’s always a bear after getting shot at our kid’s house,” Sylvia joked.
“Hey, who isn’t?” O’Neil laughed. Sylvia was a real firecracker. Andy could be a little surly, but he was probably O’Neil’s most entertaining client to date. The fact that the program referred to their federally renamed, relocated witnesses as clients, like they were a fortune 500 company, cracked O’Neil up. Schwartz, of course, never took that politically correct terminology, but usually referred to them as mutts, which made his former bond with Surey Whiteside that much more surprising to him. He wondered what other surprises Marty Schwartz had in store for him tonight.
O’Neil closed the car door and gave Schwartz the “thumbs up.” Schwartz hit the send button and waited for Gionelli’s voice to come over the line. Gionelli picked up on the fourth ring.
“Gionelli.”
“Chief, we’ve got a situation here,” Schwartz said.
Gionelli closed his eyes as he tried to remember the last time he’d dealt with this many situations in a 48-hour period. If he got through this mess, he planned to issue a formal western division edict in the Witness Security Program. From this point forward, nobody could use the word “situation” in an official capacity, written or verbal. Courtrooms would be the only sanctioned bastion, as even the Chief Inspector could not control or curtail judicial testimony.
“Why the fuck, not?” an exasperated Chief Gionelli replied. “If you’re calling me, I assume you’re back at O’Fallon’s house with O’Neil. Please tell me that before we delve into the situation.”
“Yeah boss, I’m back at the O’Fallon house.”
“Well, what could possibly be the situation, then? It appears you’re actually following direct orders from a superior and applying policy and procedure to your actions, which I have to say, is a refreshing change from earlier this evening. Don’t you think?”
“Andy O’Fallon is making some pretty outrageous claims about government conspiracies and clandestine operations that have something to do with his son’s dog. He’s claiming his knowledge about the dog is what the U.S. Attorneys are really after. He says he’s scared that if he gives up the information, nobody, especially the Witness Protection Program, could keep him safe.” Schwartz added that last part just to get Gionelli’s attention. “He was pretty adamant about leaks within our division.”
Lack of sleep and stress had already taken a toll on the Chief Inspector. He didn’t remember the old, retired Witsec inspectors having this much trouble with their dirty little black bag jobs. Why were things so much harder nowadays?
“He’s full of shit,” Gioneli instinctively responded. “There are no leaks in our division. He’s a lying, rat bastard, hell bent on stirring the pot so he can take the heat off himself. Hell, he’s probably got some racket going that he’s afraid we’ll find out about.” Gionelli learned early in his career that the best tactic was lie, lie, lie, and counter-accuse.
“He went in depth about it, and it’s highly classified,” Schwartz embellished. “I can’t go into over an unsecure line, but I think you’ll want to hear this first hand. It affects all of us and the integrity of the program.” Schwartz had second thoughts about making such a broad statement as soon as it left his lips. He immediately regretted it, fearing he laid it on a little too thick, and Gionelli would call bullshit on it.
However, that last line caused Gionelli’s right foot to lift off the accelerator and the rental car to drift toward the shoulder of the road as he visualized Andy O’Fallon knowing something about the microchip with all of the protected witness information. Was it even possible? What was Schwartz talking about? Stomach acid gurgled deep in his belly and a chill spread throughout his body at the thought of his well-orchestrated plan unraveling even more than he anticipated a few short minutes ago. He started visualizing himself getting paraded through a federal courtroom in an orange jumpsuit, shackled with leg irons, a waist chain, and handcuffs.
A shudder in the steering wheel separated Gionelli from his nightmare fantasy as the front tires rumbled over the warning grooves in the shoulder of the road. Gionelli jerked the car back into his lane, over-compensating and veering slightly into the furthest outside lane. A garbage truck’s horn blared as it passed within inches of his driver side mirror and stormed down the left hand lane of the highway like an angry prehistoric, waste-belching beast.
“Shit!” Gionelli exclaimed. His heart raced as he watched a plastic grocery bag spin in the swirling vortex of rushing air and toxic fumes off the back end of the garbage truck and blow under his car. He looked in the rearview mirror, but never saw the bag escape his undercarriage and continue on its violent, twirling course of reckless abandon.
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I thought,” Schwartz replied. “How long before we can debrief? We left O’Fallon’s place and are in parking lot. It’s public space, but it’s deserted at this hour and as good as anyplace else. I’ll text you the GPS coordinates.” Schwartz knew that Gionelli was a big technology buff and loved doing things like using latitude and longitude coordinates rather than the pedestrian methodology of entering an address. “Andy O’Fallon and his wife are both with us. We’ve got them cuffed in the back.”
Gionelli tried to gather his thoughts. He knew meeting with Schwartz and O’Fallon was a first priority to eliminate his worst fears about a connection between the two cases. He’d contact Whiteside and let him know he had car trouble and would be to his location shortly.
“O.K., shoot me the coordinates, and I’ll be there pronto,” Gionelli said. “Did you say you had them cuffed in the back?”
“10-4.”
“Why? Did they resist? Is there a reason to physically detain them?”
Schwartz added that last piece to raise Gionelli’s sense of urgency to meeting with him sooner than later. “Based on what O’Fallon says, O’Neil and I considered it a necessary evil for the assurance of safety within the witness protection program and matters of national security.”
Jesus fucking Christ, Gionelli thought! Did he just say matters of national security? What the fuck is going on in Pine Valley and just what the hell is O’Fallon saying? The gurgling stomach acid worked its way up to his esophagus. The bitter, sour taste reminded Gionelli that he had an appointment with an Internal Medicine doctor later in the week, for what was, in all likelihood, the beginning of a stress-induced ulcer. Tonight’s activities did not help that situation.
“Just keep him under wraps until I get there,” Gionelli ordered.
“Roger, that.” Schwartz hung up the phone and surveyed his co-conspirators. “Phase one of the plan successfully implemented. It’s time to set up at the rendezvous location.”
“The cameras have plenty of memory, and the batteries are all charged up,” O’Neil said. “This wireless transmitter will pick up audio from up to 500 yards while the camera rolls. I’ll just need to hook you up.” O’Neil paused and looked up at his partner. “I’m assuming you’re the one wearing the wire, right?”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way, kid. I want to make sure I hear everything
crystal clear the first time before this shit gets played back over and over again. Is everybody else clear on his or her respective roles and rules of engagement?”
“I’m going to set up the camera just up in the grove of pines above the skate park,” Nick said. “From there I’ll have an unobstructed view of most of the parking lot. We start filming when you step out of the car.”
“Correct,” Schwartz said. And you, young lady?”
“I’m with Nick in the pine trees helping him with the camera and covering his back for any activity coming down the roads to the east and south of the complex,” Shauna said.
“I think the correct police terminology is covering my six,” Nick added.
“I’m pretty sure that’s a military term,” O’Neil corrected. When Nick look looked dejected at the correction, O’Neil added, “But we use it in law enforcement all of the time.” Nick smiled as Shauna patted his shoulders.
“You’re not going to make me talk in 10 code the whole time we’re up there, are you?” Shauna joked with Nick.
O’Neil installed the covert microphone on Schwartz’s beaten blazer. Schwartz’s attention remained fixed on O’Neil, not picking up on Shauna’s sarcasm.
“Negative, we’ll use common English,” Schwartz said. Shauna shot a look at Nick and quietly giggled to herself.
Nick shook his head and whispered, “Really? 10 code?”
Shauna shrugged her shoulders as if to say it made sense to her to ask. Nick smiled at her and said, “10-4.”
“O.K., Vincent, what about you?”
“I’ll be on the northwest corner of the complex where I have a complete vantage point for the entire facility. I’ll have your radios set on channel 14 so I can relay movement to Deputy O’Neil. What if somebody intercepts the transmission?
“Not likely,” O’Neil explained. “Our transmissions are encrypted, so you’d have to have one of our programmed radios and be on a channel that is reserved for emergency operations within our division. We should be good.”
“What happens if something goes wrong?” Schwartz asked.
“Call 911 and stay put or try to covertly head back to the house,” Nick said. “What about my parents? They’re with you.”
“It’s just standard operational contingency planning,” Schwartz said. “Nothing’s going to go wrong. Besides, you’ve got me and O’Neil ready to react, and it’s our plan, so whatever happens is being directed by us. Your parents will just sit tight.”
“Yeah, sitting tight ducks,” Andy added from the backseat.
“How about positive vibes, lover boy?” Sylvia asked. “You always say positive vibes can sway the odds, don’t you?”
“Now’s not the time to talk about the odds, sweetheart.”
“Your father and I will be just fine, Nicky,” Sylvia said through the open rear door. “You just take care of Shauna and the filming, and we’ll have fun stories to share for years when this is over.”
“That’s absolutely right,” Schwartz said. “I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t feel 100% about everybody’s safety.” Schwartz wondered if anybody noticed a slight tick with his left eye when made this statement. He was more like 80% sure this would work, but he certainly wasn’t going to share that with anybody, not even O’Neil. As he questioned himself, he felt the eye twitch a few more times. When he looked up, Andy had a suspicious look on his face as he stared at him. Damn gambler is reading my tell, Schwartz thought. Schwartz turned his body away from Andy’s studied gaze, pretending to adjust his clothing from O’Neil’s microphone attachment.
“If anybody’s got to pee, I suggest we do that now,” Schwartz said with his back to everybody, but O’Neil. “And dress appropriately. It gets cold standing outside on middle of the night surveillances.”
“Wow, I’ve never been on a surveillance for a first date before,” Shauna said to Nick.
“Yeah, I usually save this up for the third or fourth date,” Nick said. “I hope I’m not moving too fast for you.”
“I just can’t wait to see what happens on date number three and four, now,” Shana said. Nick smiled as they walked to his house to grab coats. She’s already planning for more dates, he thought to himself. This police shit is intoxicating.
As everybody completed the final preparations before leaving, Vincent walked up to Schwartz before joining Andy and Sylvia in the backseat. “Just out of curiosity,” Vincent inquired, “Why did you choose the county baseball stadium’s parking lots for the rendezvous location?”
The Bernie Factor Page 36
