“What you drinking?”
“I’ll take a club soda,” he said, then immediately shook his head. “No, strike that. Give me a perfect Manhattan, okay?”
She nodded.
“It’s five o’clock somewhere, right?” Cummins said, shrugging. “Besides, I doubt I’ll get called back to meet with any clients. The boss wants me to ride shotgun with you on this until it’s done.”
“Just like in the Sandbox, huh?”
“Yeah.” Cummins laughed. “You don’t know how many strings they had to pull to get me that assignment over there for that brief little foray.”
“Fortunes of war,” Eagan said.
The girl smiled and then turned her eyes toward Eagan. “You want another B and B?”
He shook his head and turned toward Cummins. “Slip her a twenty.”
Cummins lips parted slightly. “Come again?”
“Do it,” Eagan said, transferring his attention to the other man. “She’s been holding this booth especially for us.” When Cummins sat there immobile, Eagan snapped his fingers again.
Cummins pursed his lips, removed his wallet and started sorting through it. “I’ll have to add it on to the tab. Not sure I have one.”
“Oh? Let’s see.” Eagan reached across the table and snatched the open billfold. His large fingers pulled out a fifty and handed it to her. “Here you go, honey. Keep the change and see that nobody bothers us, okay?”
She licked her lips. “Sure.”
He watched her ass as she walked away.
“This was supposed to be on the firm’s dime,” Cummins said. “I would’ve left a nice tip on the bill.”
Eagan felt like reaching across and bitch-slapping one of the other guy’s fat cheeks, but he knew he’d accomplished what he wanted: re-establishing his dominance by using a dash of intimidation.
“You can still do that,” he said. “In fact, you will. I don’t know too many women in this town. I might want to come back later when she gets off work.”
Cummins emitted a short, disgruntled sound.
Eagan shot him an icy stare, letting the silence settle over the other man like an embracing shroud.
The fat lawyer licked his lips. “Ah, I assume the boss brought you up to speed this morning?”
Eagan shrugged. “More or less. He said you’d fill in the rest of the blanks.”
Cummins nodded and was just about to speak when the barmaid brought two drinks, settling the frosty martini glass in front of Cummins and another B and B in front of Eagan.
“On the house, big guy,” she said, giving him a wink.
“Thanks, babe, we’ll be putting your tip on the tab,” Eagan said before she walked away.
This seemed to frustrate Cummins but all he did was purse his lips again.
“You’re supposed to be filing in the gaps,” Eagan said.
Cummins frowned, nodded, and took a swig his drink. When he set the glass down his face looked flushed. “Okay, how much did Mr. Fallotti tell you?”
“Enough to know that the other half of what we got for them in the Sandbox didn’t end up where it was supposed to.”
“Yeah, after all that planning and work.” Cummins smirked. “Not to mention three dead ragheads.” Cummins’s smirk stretched into a grin. “Yeah, good thing we had good old Sergeant Wolf and his boys to take the heat for that one.” He snorted a laugh. “What a putz. Took a horseshit plea bargain and went bye-bye. He’s lucky they didn’t have me as a prosecutor in JAG, or he’d a gotten life.”
“I’ll bet he’s still counting his blessings.” Eagan smirked. “Especially after almost getting shanked on his last day at Leavenworth.”
Cummins frowned. “Stupid fuck-up. And after Stu assured us that it would go off without a hitch.” He grabbed the glass and drained it. The ice made a chunking sound when he slammed it down on the tabletop. “I told them that was a dumb move. Wolf’s just wart on a barfly’s ass. He can’t do shit.”
“So why’d the big man want him iced anyway? As you said, it ain’t like he can do anything.”
“Word got back to us that somebody’d hired a lawyer to look into Wolf’s court martial case,” Cummins said. “Possible appeal.”
“Somebody? Who?”
“I don’t know. Some two-bit lawyer outta Phoenix or someplace.” Cummins lifted the glass and then realized it was empty. “Nothing’s gonna come of it.”
“Then why was the big man worried about it?”
“Victor Delta’s always worried about the little shit. He’s very meticulous. In fact, you could say the son of a bitch is obsessive-compulsive sometimes.”
“Victor Delta?”
“That’s what I call him.” Cummins giggled. “Stands for VD. Get it?”
Eagan got it, all right, and he wasn’t amused. He knew Cummins wouldn’t dare say anything disparaging to Von Dien’s face, which made this fat prick a backstabber, and Eagan hated backstabbers. He almost regretted that he’d gone along with Cummins’s plan to make old Sergeant Wolf the fall guy back in Iraq. Almost … The dumb fucker made too good of a patsy, and part Indian at that. They were born to be used, abused, and discarded.
Cummins waved, trying to get the attention of the waitress, but she seemed to be distracted talking to another customer. His frown deepened and he swore under his breath. “He’s paranoid about loose ends. Doesn’t like leaving any.”
Good to know, Eagan thought. It’s something we share in common.
It also reaffirmed something for him to keep in mind: that to a rich prick like Von Dien, he was another one of those loose ends as well, as expendable as a used condom. And so was this fat fuck.
“But our buddy Wolf’s on the back burner for now,” Cummins said. “Victor Delta’s going bonkers about this current situation.”
“The artifact.”
“Right,” Cummins said. “When the second half surfaced, they made the mistake of sending the wrong flunky to do the job.” His eyes moved down to the untouched bourbon in front of Eagan. “Ah, you gonna drink that?”
Eagan shook his head and pushed the glass across the table.
A fat lush as my go between the mission and the money, he thought. Better make sure I have a contingency plan.
“Thomas Accondras,” Eagan said. “The grad student.”
“Yeah, that’s the guy, or should I say, the mule?” He brought the bourbon to his mouth, took a delicate sip, and set it down. “You know, I’d better not be mixing drinks, or I’ll get diarrhea.”
Christ, Eagan thought. He must have a weak belly.
He didn’t remember this fat idiot being such a pansy-ass, but their association in Iraq hadn’t been that lengthy. Novak had set everything up, including working with Cummins.
“So anyway,” Cummins continued. “This guy Accondras assured us he had all the right connections. Everything was set until he showed up here and got pinched on an outstanding warrant.” He motioned for the waitress again and when she came over, he said, “Gimme another one.”
She left.
Eagan noticed that the alcohol was affecting Cummins pretty rapidly. A man who couldn’t hold his liquor… That could indicate carelessness. He hadn’t noticed that back in Iraq, but there hadn’t been any booze available back then, either. He studied Cummins. There was a lingering sheen of panic just under all that blubber. Further evidence that the man would be undependable in a crisis. Not that Eagan needed any after the way Cummins had blown his cool four years ago in Iraq. He’d practically been reduced to a pile of melting Jell-O after Eagan had sliced the one camel jockey’s throat open.
Cummins shrugged and toyed with the empty glass. He leaned forward, lowering his voice. “We had this whole thing worked out. The plan was for Accondras to bring the item here, then turn it over to us after he’d passed customs.”
“How’d he get it through customs here?”
“He didn’t say but claimed he had it all worked out.” Cummins drank some more from the glass. “Turned out he�
�d stashed it in Canada. Wanted to be paid up front before delivering it.”
“Smart move.”
“He got his tit in a wringer before even approaching us.” Cummins’s lips curled into a half-smile. “Got his ass arrested. Called us for bond.”
“Which your firm arranged through the bail bondsman.”
Cummins nodded. “The old fart’s paranoid. Insists on several layers of buffer material so nothing can be traced back to him.”
“How’d Accondras ship it through Canadian customs without attracting attention?”
“He was affiliated with some museum up in Canada. Unbeknownst to us, he’d already shipped it there first along with a bunch of other Arab junk. He flew back there and was supposed to pick it up and bring it to us on the sly.”
“And then he got busted.”
Cummins glanced around before doing a quick nod. “That’s when things started to get screwed up. When Accondras got arrested, we immediately signed on to represent him. As soon as we got his bond posted, he went back up north, took the item, which like I said, he’d shipped to himself before he got here, and then beat feet for his old man’s place in Mexico.”
“The judge didn’t take his passport?”
Cummins smirked and rubbed his thumb and first two fingers together. “He apparently had two of them.”
“And you’re sure he’s got the item?”
Before Cummins could answer the waitress returned and set an icy glass in front of Cummins. She smiled and winked at Eagan again and he immediately felt a stirring in his groin. She took the empty glass and left.
Cummins swallowed more booze and then said, “Says he does, and we got no reason to doubt him. We received an anonymous email with a picture of it from Mexico. He then called on a burner phone demanding a higher pay off. An enormous amount to set him up for life.”
“What about this private dick you’ve got down there? He figure out where the thing is?”
“Zerbe’s been on him like stink on shit. Supposedly. But claims he ain’t made no moves. He’s got it stashed down there, that’s for sure.”
“You trust this guy Zerbe?”
“No reason not to.” Cummins brought the glass to his mouth again and practically drained it. “Aaahhh, that’s good.”
“One thing’s bothering me,” Eagan said. “If money’s no object, why doesn’t the old man just pay the asshole what he wants?”
“I think they’re figuring Accondras might be gonna welsh on the deal. He’d be stupid not to. It’s his only insurance policy. He knows we can’t afford to alert the authorities about him for fear of losing the item. And he also knows that once it’s not in his possession anymore, his ass is grass.”
“Just one more loose end to be tied up.”
Cummins snorted an agreement.
“Any possibility he might sell it to somebody else?” Eagan asked.
“It’s always possible, but I doubt it. I mean, where could he unload something like that? It’s not like you could put on E-bay.” Cummins shrugged. “No, it’s his insurance policy. His ace in the hole. And now he’s sitting pretty down in Mexico …”
“With an outstanding warrant for a failure to appear case that’s coming up in about ten days.”
Cummins looked at him over the rim of his glass and nodded. “They ain’t so concerned about that. The bail bondsman will be out the money, but we’ll make good on it. They just don’t want it traceable back to us.”
“It won’t be,” Eagan said. “Either to you or Victor Delta.”
Cummins’s eyes narrowed. “You got an idea about how to handle it?”
“Yeah.” Eagan slid out of the booth and straightened up. “Come on. I want you to introduce me to this bail bondsman.”
Chapter Five
Phoenix, Arizona
“That’s it,” Mac said as he pulled to the curb and pointed to a one story, tan stucco house a bit farther down the block.
“That’s his house?”
“Actually, it’s his mother’s sister’s place.”
“Why did Manny say the guy was so hard to find?”
McNamara smiled. “Hard to find for the amateurs. Not for Sherlock Holmes here.”
Wolf rolled his eyes.
“Anyway, don’t question my methods,” Mac said as he took out his cell phone and pressed a button. “Yeah, we’re there. What else you got?” He listened, nodding and grunting. After a moment he stared at the house, his eyes narrowing. “All right. Check you later. What? Yeah, yeah, I will be.”
Wolf lifted an eyebrow. “Care to share?”
“Just checking in with Kasey. She’ll alert the cops if we need ’em.”
“She’s worried?”
McNamara shook his head slightly. “Sometimes she’s worse than her mother was.”
“What’s the plan?”
“You go knock on the front door and announce yourself. I’ll be waiting at the back when he tries to make his break. Talk to them in Spanish to keep them off guard.”
“Announce myself? And what makes you think they’re going to open the door for the likes of me?”
Mac compressed his lips, like he wasn’t sure of his answer, then said, “They will. You got that real familiar look.”
“Huh? What are you talking about? I don’t know these people.”
McNamara shrugged and adjusted his hat. “You never know. You’re a nice-looking young fella. Say you’re a Jehovah’s Witness, or something.”
“And that’s going to make them open the door? They’re probably Catholic.”
“All right. Say you’re a cop, or something.”
Wolf frowned. “And if they ask to see some identification?”
“They won’t.”
“But if they do, I’m an ex-con, out on parole, impersonating an officer of the law.” Wolf shook his head. “I don’t want to end up back in the joint.”
Mac blew out a slow breath, then reached in his pocket, pulled out a thin black wallet, and handed it to Wolf. “Here, take mine.”
Wolf opened it up and saw an ID card behind a plastic holder in one section and a shiny, miniature gold badge on the other. BAIL ENFORCEMENT AGENT was imprinted around the state seal. A velvet protector was in between the two sections.
“This has your picture on it,” Wolf said.
“Well, put your thumb over it,” McNamara said, opening the door.
“What are you gonna use?”
“I got this one.” McNamara held up a gold star within a crescent circle that had the same imprint as the smaller badge.
“I don’t know about this,” Wolf said.
“Aw, hell. Just yell, bail enforcement agent. Make a lot of noise. All you have to do is make enough racket to send old Luis running out the back.” McNamara held up a booking photo of a sullen looking Hispanic male in his forties. “But make no mistake, this shitbird’s dangerous. He’s one of the original gangbangers with the Los Lobos. Wanted on two warrants for auto theft and possession of a controlled substance. He also had two arrests for weapons violations.” His mouth twitched. “You want me to give you a bullet-proof vest?”
“You got one?”
McNamara nodded. “Got two.”
“You gonna wear one?”
“Shit, no. Too damn hot.”
“Then I’ll pass, too,” Wolf said. “You know, you still haven’t told me how we found him so easily.”
“Don’t question my methods. Just flush him out and leave the rest to me. Here.” He handed Wolf the Taser.
“What do I want with that?”
“Maybe you can light the fucker up.”
“No thanks.”
“Humor me.” Mac shoved the Taser at him. “Keep it for shits and giggles.”
Wolf stuck the Taser in his back pocket, hoping he wouldn’t have to use it.
McNamara slipped out of the car and leaned back inside. “Give me a couple of minutes to get set up on the other end. And remember, this one’s worth a pretty penny to us.” He tu
rned, then stopped. “Ah, I’m gonna have to talk to you afterward about this. Something I gotta tell you.”
“What?”
“Later,” McNamara said. “We gotta get this done quick.”
Wolf wondered what the hell Mac had meant as he watched him amble down the sidewalk, past the tan house. He went two houses down, then angled to his right, cutting through someone’s yard toward the back end of the houses.
Wolf waited another minute before he got out. He adjusted the rear-view mirror and caught a glimpse of a midnight black Hummer parked down the block behind him. He remembered seeing one earlier.
The same one?
Undercover cops, maybe? Doubtful that they’d be driving something like that, but it could be a confiscated vehicle. The windows had a dark tint and Wolf couldn’t tell if it was occupied.
Dismissing any concerns, he got out of the Escalade and walked toward the door. The sun shone overhead and he could feel the sweat starting to seep through the fabric of his polo shirt. No wonder Mac had told him to wear something nice and professional looking. He smiled to himself, wondering if this whole thing was a mistake, and went toward the front door. A green Toyota Corolla was parked in front and Wolf thought the vehicle looked familiar somehow, but he couldn’t place it. There was an ornate display of three-foot-high, plastic religious icons in the front yard, under a large picture window. Two window air-conditioning units hummed mightily on the side of the house adjacent to a driveway with an overhanging roof. A big Honda motorcycle leaned against a beat-up, brown pick-up that looked like it hadn’t been moved in months. He took a deep breath, held Mac’s credentials in his left hand, and rang the doorbell.
Inside he could hear the chimes, then voices in Spanish. The door opened and a heavyset Hispanic lady looked at him through the fine mesh of the screen door with suspicious dark eyes.
“Bueno?” she said.
“Está aquí Luis?” Wolf said in as loud a voice as he could manage.
“Luis?” The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Porque?”
Aw, hell, Wolf thought. He held up the badge-case and yelled, “Bail enforcement agent.”
The woman’s eyes widened, and she yelled a torrent of Spanish over her shoulder.
Devil's Dance (Trackdown Book 1) Page 9
