Angel of Death - Debt Collector 5 (A Jack Winchester Thriller)

by Jon Mills

  The very second James caught sight of Jack he scowled.

  “You better be able to show a card.”

  Jack smiled.

  “Get him out of here.”

  The security guard was making his way over when Jack replied. “I just need two minutes of your time.”

  James never replied. Jack sighed knowing this wasn’t going to go the way he planned. The muscular security guard went to grab hold of Jack but found himself on the tail end of pain as Jack grabbed his wrist, twisted and bent it upright. The guard dropped to his knees in agony.

  “Two minutes of your time. That’s all I want.”

  Jack rolled his eyes when he saw James opt for the phone. He released his grip on the security guard and dashed across the room and vaulted over the counter. The couple of patients at the counter, bolted out of fear. Jack yanked the phone from James’s hand and slammed it down.

  “Really? You can’t even give up two minutes?”

  James backed up against the counter. “I will…”

  “You will what? You will do nothing. Now I can see why Patrick thought you were a pain in the ass.”

  Jack’s eyes darted between James and the guard who was nursing a bruised ego more than an injured wrist.

  “Don’t even think about calling the cops,” he muttered to the guard who had now retreated to one of the ten chairs along the side of the wall. Jack shoved James into a small office and slammed the door closed. He plunked him down in a chair and then took a seat across from him.

  “Right. Now this is not so bad, is it?”

  Jack looked around.

  “How long have you had this place?”

  “Four years.”

  “Bring in a fair amount of coin?”

  He chuckled. “Coin. I’m set to bring in over two million at the end of this year.”

  “Big business.”

  “It’s getting that way. If the FDA would just allow for testing, but you know how they are. They will let universities do testing on heroin and cocaine but not something that can actually help people.”

  “Pretty passionate about it.”

  “I like to educate people. Too many think it’s just for stoners. People who want to get high. It’s so much more than that. Anyway, what do you want to know? I’ve already spoken to Patrick.”

  “That may be the case but he didn’t get the answers he was looking for. What do you know about this Eternal Temple Movement?”

  James sat up in his chair and leaned across the table moving a few papers. Before he could finish what he was doing Jack grabbed his wrist and held it before pulling back to see what he was trying to cover up. On the table in front of him were office papers related to the dispensary but below them was a stack of leaflets for the Eternal Movement.

  “What is this?”

  Jack pulled one out and took a look. It was advertising a local event headed up by a group called High Times. The leaflet read:

  High Times

  Experience bliss and discover your purpose.

  FREE! Just bring your ID and the weed is on us.

  Doors open at 7 p.m. on September 4th

  Thompson Banquet Hall

  On the back was the full address and a breakdown of the night’s events. It consisted of meditation, yoga, teachings and free samples of cannabis.

  Jack’s eyes locked on to James. “You want to tell me what this is about?”

  He shrugged. “We partnered up with them to do some events in the city.”

  “Is this how you met Danielle?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So why didn’t you go to Peru with her?”

  He hesitated before he replied. “Because I have a business to run and anyway she was enamored with Castillo. She couldn’t stop talking about him as if he was some kind of god. We didn’t finish on a happy note.”

  Jack pocketed the leaflet.

  “Are you aware that Danielle has been trying to get out of Peru?”

  He shrugged. “What’s that to do with me?”

  Jack studied his face. Over the years of collecting on debts he had become accustomed to seeing the way people reacted when faced with him on their doorstep. Those that tried to hide the truth weren’t very good at it. There was a difference between those who were afraid and those who were nervous. Small things gave them away. The way their eyes would shift when faced with a question. The way their body would adjust in a seat almost as if they were becoming uncomfortable.

  Jack leaned forward. “If I find out that you were in any way involved in the disappearance of Danielle, I will…”

  “Will what? Who the hell are you? You come barging in here, inflict injury on my security guard and scare away my clients. Did Patrick send you to rough me up? Is that what this is about?”

  It was interesting to watch the way he spoke to Jack. Back in New York, most business owners knew him. They would have never spoke to him like that. Back in the day, Jack would have fired a bullet through his skull by now or slapped him around and knocked some sense into him. But he had no clue who Jack was. In some ways, that was good. It meant he didn’t need to maintain his persona. He didn’t need to make sure that they were afraid. He could decide how to control the situation. Jack allowed James to vent for a few minutes. Once he was done, he continued his line of questioning.

  “Their establishment in Chicago. Where’s the main office?”

  James chuckled. “There isn’t one. What? You think these guys are some licensed organization?”

  “How do I find whoever is in charge?”

  “You don’t. People get in contact with them through word of mouth.”

  He pulled out the leaflet again. The date listed was from a week ago.

  “How often do these events occur?”

  “There’s not another one for a month.”

  That ruled out going that route. James shifted in his seat, his eyes flicked to the door. Jack followed his gaze and saw the security guard outside.

  “What was your involvement with this event?”

  “I was contacted and they asked if I wanted to get the word out about my company. I said yeah. In exchange they asked if I could provide a unique strain.”

  “Unique?”

  “One that included Psychotria viridis leaf and Banisteriopsis caapi vine.”

  Jack’s brow knit together.

  “It’s ayahuasca. They usually drink it.”

  He remembered what Patrick had said.

  “You can smoke that?”

  James shook his head and chuckled. “You can smoke a lot of things.”

  “So you were giving this out to everyone?”

  “Not everyone. Just to certain individuals.”

  “And what happened to these individuals?”

  “There was a room out back specifically provided for them.”

  “Did Danielle smoke it?”

  “Yeah. Castillo took her out back.”

  “Was that the last time you saw her?”

  He exhaled hard and reached for a drawer. Jack pulled back his jacket to show his Glock.

  “Easy, I’m just getting a joint. You want one?”

  Jack shook his head.

  “You really should. It might help your stress level.”

  James retrieved a bag of cannabis. He took out a nugget and ground it up, then began rolling a joint.

  “Danielle came by two days after. Said she was planning to go to Peru with Castillo and a few others to help them with the opening of the treatment center they were building down there. I told her I couldn’t go.”

  “Could you?”

  He snorted. “Of course. This place runs like clockwork but we got into an argument about the amount of time she was spending with him.”

  “Castillo?”

  He lit the end and nodded. “Anyway, that’s that.”

  “What about the group?”

  “Listen, I don’t know a lot about them. They approached me and I got connected to them through these events. I think it�
�s a way for them to recruit people. Most of the people who smoke cannabis are pretty open-minded. Many have deep issues with anxiety, sleep disorders and all manner of health issues. They think they can solve it with these retreats and holy medicine. Yeah, that’s what Danielle said. I didn’t buy into it.” He cast a glance around the room. “You know, all of this, it’s just business for me. I’m not involved to find some enlightened state. But if knowing them helps me sell more, then I’m all for it. My revenue has doubled since getting connected with them.”

  “Then you must have a guy you speak to on a regular basis?”

  “No, I show up at these events, advertise here and that’s it.”

  Jack didn’t believe him. But on the other hand he had a gut feeling that he was telling the truth. If he did have a connection, he didn’t want to burn bridges with them.

  “Did she mention where this place is in Peru?”

  “No.”

  He saw the way his eyes shifted then returned to looking at Jack. He took another toke on his joint and moved back in his chair.

  “Well, I think that’s all.”

  Jack stood up and walked over to the door, before he exited he cast a glance over his shoulder. “You might want to store that piece in a different place. Not everyone is going to sit directly across from you.” He was referring to a sawed-off shotgun that James had below the table. Jack had taken a seat slightly off to one side. It was one of the oldest tricks in the book. It might have worked around these parts but in New York, it was an amateur’s way to protect yourself. When Jack came out of the room the security guard moved back against the wall.

  “Sorry about your hand.”

  With that said he exited the building. He didn’t go far. He crossed the street and went two stores down to a small café. He ordered an Americano without milk and took a seat by the window. He waited there for the next ten minutes until James appeared outside the dispensary. He looked nervous as he crossed the street and made his way west on Argyle Street. Jack downed the rest of his coffee and began to follow him.

  Chapter Nine

  FLORIDA

  FBI HEADQUARTERS

  He was purposely moving fast to avoid a conversation with her. Simon Thorpe had been dodging her phone calls and not answering her messages since she got word from Bowman as to Winchester’s whereabouts. The moment she fell in step, he quickened his pace.

  “Sir, I must speak with you.”

  “If this is anything to do with Jack Winchester, I don’t want to know.”

  “You said that if I got a strong lead on where he was, you would be open to discuss it.”

  “No, I said, what you do on your free time is up to you but if I found out that you were shaking down the public using taxpayers’ money, I would have your head on the chopping block.”

  “He’s in Chicago.”

  Thorpe came to a halt and looked back at her. The other agents beside him beckoned him to keep moving. Whatever meeting they had, it must have been urgent. He waved them off and told them he would catch up. They shrugged and continued on their way. Like most in the bureau, they took care of themselves. If you were going down, you could be damn sure they weren’t going to go down with you. They would do anything to avoid looking incompetent.

  “Where in Chicago?”

  “That I’m not sure about.”

  He screwed up his face and waved her off. Isabel watched as he ambled away. She wasn’t going to let this go. She had been waiting for a lead for months and since Thorpe had taken the other agent off the case, she was biting at the bit to chase him down. Being stuck in an office for months on end wading through paperwork wasn’t what she signed up for. She could have done that in San Francisco as a detective.

  “Sir.”

  “Enough, Agent Baker. I’m not wasting any more time on this. If and when a strong lead presents itself, I will have a different agent work the case. You are too close to this.”

  “How did that work for you last time?”

  He stopped walking and turned to face her. One thing she knew about Thorpe was he didn’t like being challenged. He wagged his finger in front of her face.

  “Remember who you are working for?”

  “I’m sorry, sir, but I know that if we let this slide, he’s going to be long gone.”

  “Then I will have Foster take care of it.”

  “Foster is bogged down with the serial killer. You know I can do this.”

  “That’s the thing, Baker. I don’t know if you can do this. The last two times I sent you and Cooper after him, you nearly died.”

  Isabel ground her teeth. “I had him in cuffs.”

  “That means nothing, Isabel.”

  Isabel? He had never called her that.

  “I mean, it doesn’t count for much, Agent Baker. I need him brought in otherwise you are wasting our time. And right now we have enough on our plate.”

  He stood there with one hand on his hip, the other kneading his brow. He was under a lot of stress. Most of those above her were. It was the reason why she never sought out promotion. It just meant taking more shit. She was content with where she was as long as she could get back out in the field.

  “I need this.”

  “You need this? You want to settle some vendetta, do it on your own time. I’m sorry, agent, I can’t.”

  She watched as he walked away. He cast a glance over his shoulder before disappearing out of view behind one of the buildings. She ran a hand through her long hair and bit down on the side of her lip contemplating her options. It wasn’t exactly a surprise that he would deny the request. She would have probably done the same thing in his position. Whatever reason the bureau had for wanting Winchester it looked as if it would remain unknown for now.

  As she made her way back to her office, she came around a corner and nearly bumped into Cooper. He had an apple in one hand and his phone in the other.

  “Geesh, do you ever look where you are going?”

  He chuckled. “Touchy. Who pushed your buttons?”

  She continued walking inside and he followed.

  “Hey hold up, why aren’t you replying to any of your texts?”

  “Because I have better things to do than waste my time reading your ridiculous jokes.”

  She entered the elevator and he slipped in just before it closed. One other person was inside looking down at the ground. Agent Daniel Cooper always had this permanent grin on his face as though he was privy to some ongoing joke. How he ever managed to make it through the interview process of becoming an agent was baffling.

  When they arrived on the third floor and the elevator dinged, the door slid open and the other agent stepped out leaving both of them alone to ride up to the seventh floor. As the door hissed closed, Cooper went back to droning on about how her obsession with Winchester was beginning to border upon crazy and that if she didn’t watch out, Thorpe would probably see to it that she was checked into a mental hospital. It wasn’t that she was obsessed, well, perhaps.

  “Is this anything to do with your father?”

  “Don’t go there, Cooper.”

  “I’m just saying. It seems to make sense. Your father’s killers were never caught. You’ve managed to nab your fair share of criminals both as a detective and as an agent. Maybe Winchester is your Napoleon of Crime.”

  The elevator doors opened to a bustling office of suits on phones, pecking at keyboards and the smell of coffee wafting through the air.

  Isabel stepped out with Cooper beside her. “My what?”

  “You know, the way Holmes had Moriarty. Someone who was as smart as Holmes himself and possibly even smarter.”

  She sighed shaking her head. “Honest to god, Cooper, where do you come up with this?”

  “I’m not wrong though, am I?”

  She glared at him before taking her seat and switching her computer on. “I swear if I have to spend one more day stuck in front of this monitor I’m going to file for sick leave on the basis of having contracted a vir
us from you, Cooper.”

  He chuckled. “Which would be?”

  “Verbal diarrhea.”

  Cooper perched one ass cheek on the side of her desk and continued munching his apple in her ear.

  “So what did the big cheese say?”

  “What do you think?”

  He took a big bite from his apple. “I told you, you were wasting your breath.”

  Isabel picked up the phone and patched through to human resources. She held the phone between her neck and shoulder while she brought up a website that listed flights from Florida to Chicago. Cooper leaned in and squinted. “He said yes?”

  “No.”

  “Then what?”

  Before she replied, someone in human resources answered. She gave her details to them and a few seconds later they asked her how they could help.

  “I would like to use that vacation time I have accumulated.”

  She held a finger up to Cooper who looked like he was bursting to talk crap again. She nodded a few times and ummed and arghed. Finally, she said, “Yes, immediately. Okay. Thanks.”

  She put the phone down and continued her search for a flight.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “What? He didn’t say no, he said I could do it on my own time. So that’s what I’m doing.”

  Cooper tossed his apple core into the trash can and got off the table and then leaned over her shoulder.

  “You are going to use up your vacation time hunting down a known fugitive?” She didn’t respond. “Baker, you have finally lost the plot. I swear if I was your boss, I would have you committed.”

  She pecked at the keys a few times, then shut off her computer.

  “Thankfully you’re not.”

  He sighed and ran his hand over a chin that was beginning to sport an afternoon shadow.

  “What time are you leaving?”