The Partnership

by Dustin Stevens

  “Well now, don’t get hasty. As we agreed earlier, tonight is not the best time to move on this.”

  “No,” Reed countered, cutting him off, “we agreed that it was too early to move on it because we didn’t know everything going on. Now we do.”

  “Yeah?” Gott snapped. “And how’s that? The phone call you got earlier was someone calling to spill their guts?”

  Again, Reed ignored him, making no effort to mask the malevolence on his face as he pressed his mouth shut and blew out a long breath through his nose.

  “Look, we have solid information from a reliable source, and we know that Tek-Yen and possibly many others are in danger.”

  Focusing in tight on Tucker, he added, “I know it’s hasty, but we don’t have a choice. We have to go tonight.”

  It was obvious at a glance that Tucker didn’t like it, his mouth sagging open as he looked to Gott for help, his partner doing nothing more than pacing back and forth, gesturing wildly in silence, no doubt muttering things under his breath that Reed was better off not hearing.

  “I mean, why don’t you just step inside out of the cold? We can get some coffee and discuss this.”

  The time for discussion was past. Keeping his mouth shut, Reed stared at Tucker a moment before shifting his gaze to the side, watching as the familiar square headlamps of a cruiser came into view and rolled closer.

  “Nope,” he replied. “We’re going now, you coming or not?”

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  The knock was short and loud, two quick bursts followed by the door springing open. Seated behind his desk, The Businessman had barely had time to turn toward the sound of it before a deluge of light and music flooded in, only partially obscured by Linc Austin blocking the bottom half of it.

  Standing with his right hand still grasping the knob, his shoulders twisted slightly, he took just a single step forward before stopping.

  “Boss, we’ve got company.”

  For a moment, The Businessman gave no response whatsoever. His lips parted slightly as he stared, his mind fighting to process what he’d just been told.

  When he’d pulled Austin aside earlier, it was based on the tip from Pyle, believing that some sort of covert surveillance was under way. Never would he have guessed it was already reaching a climax.

  Synapses firing anew, The Businessman jumped to his feet and circled around the desk, his heels clicking against the floor as he strode for the aquarium, peering past the faint string of bubbles to the floor.

  “Where? Who?”

  Taking a second step in, Austin released his grip on the door, folding his hands in front of his waist.

  “Not down there,” he replied. “Outside.”

  For the second time in as many minutes The Businessman was forced to take pause, shifting away from the aquarium and turning to regard his head of security.

  “Outside?”

  “Yup,” Austin said, his words terse, his tone tight.

  Based on what he’d already been told, on the posture of Austin before him, the answers to the next logical questions came to The Businessman without him having to ask, there only being so many possibilities.

  The stunt with the girl had blown up in spectacular fashion. Interest from local law enforcement had gone from non-existent to emergency status in just a matter of days.

  “How many?”

  “Enough,” Austin replied.

  “Can you...?” The Businessman asked.

  “No,” Austin said. “And we won’t even try.”

  The answer too was something The Businessman had already anticipated, knowing that he couldn’t ask his guys to go to war with the local police. They themselves were formerly just a step removed from law enforcement, having served in the military, believing in things like brotherhood and patriotism.

  The fact that they also believed in money had made them valuable assets, but even that had its boundaries.

  “Okay,” The Businessman said. “We’ve gone over this before, you know what to do.”

  Nodding once, Austin retreated from the room, closing the door behind him, plunging the space back into solitude.

  Once he was gone, The Businessman stood for a moment, the absence of light and sound assaulting his senses as he tried to put things back into order.

  Since the moment the girl had been eliminated, he had been planning for some variation of what might happen. While never had he imagined it would be anything quite so jarring, not nearly so expansive, he couldn’t rightly claim he was surprised.

  In the coming days and weeks, there would no doubt be plenty of time for reflection.

  For the time being, he had decisions to make, things that needed to be done, to protect as much of the organization as he could.

  Pacing back across the room, The Businessman called his computer to life, entering a sequence of commands to begin wiping the hard drive. Once it was done, he did the same with his cell phone, stripping away all the low hanging fruit.

  It was not the first time one of the operations had ever been raided, the progression for how to deal with things clearly delineated.

  Not once had he ever made a call back to China on a landline, the one cell phone he had about to be rendered useless, the bill made out to a phony name and address, meaning that even if authorities wanted to trace it, they would be impossible for them to even determine where to start looking.

  As little as possible was ever done on paper, everything that could be feasibly described as a legitimate business expense kept around and nothing more.

  From there, it was up to him to play the ignorant rube, claiming to merely be a businessman, with investors and ventures that were completely bought and paid for, permits all in good standing.

  No mention would ever be made of the girls or the second half of the operation, his role to play dumb to any question lobbed his way in the coming days.

  The instant the self-destruct was activated on his computer, an encoded message was sent back across the ocean, alerting them that things had gone sideways. From there, they would act as they saw prudent, sending over legal counsel, making sure he was taking care of.

  Just like in his favorite movie Goodfellas, he would keep his mouth shut, he would never rat on his friends, and everything would be fine.

  Everybody got pinched every once in a while. The key was how he handled it.

  Once everything was put in motion, The Businessman stood behind his desk, resting his hands on his hips, and took a deep breath.

  Content that everything was as well as could be expected, he lifted the landline from the corner of his desk and dialed a number from memory.

  Four rings later it was answered by the familiar growl of The Muscle.

  “What?”

  Just hearing the sound of his voice, The Businessman couldn’t help but scowl. For him and Jade, things would be okay. They wouldn’t be perfect, but they would work out.

  As to how The Muscle would do, there was no way of knowing. Just as it had been with the girl, he was a complete wild card, capable of doing things very well, equally capable of doing something completely stupid.

  “They’re coming,” The Businessman said simply.

  “Who’s coming?” The Muscle snapped.

  “Who the hell do you think? The cops, the feds, anybody else they can wrangle out of bed right about now.”

  For a moment there was nothing but silence, loud breathing audible over the line.

  “How much do they know?”

  Raising his free hand to his brow, The Businessman began to knead the skin back and forth. “For the time being, assume they know everything.”

  To his credit, The Muscle didn’t bother asking how they knew, the answer to that already painfully obvious.

  “How long? Kind of in the middle of something here.”

  Dropping the phone away for a moment, The Businessman made a face, his features scrunched tight as he bit back a string of obscenities.

  “They’re right outside,”
he said, pushing out the words in a slow and even cadence, making sure his animosity was heard. “So finish whatever the hell it is you’re doing and move your ass. This is bad.”

  Chapter Fifty-Nine

  There was no need for the cruiser carrying Grimes and officers Greene and Gilchrist to even stop. Merely slowing down, Greene rolled down the driver’s window long enough to see Reed give him a circular motion, indicating that things were moving forward, they could push on.

  Whether or not that was truly the case was certainly up for debate, a discussion Reed was more than happy to have in a couple of days.

  Until then, there were more pressing matters to tend to.

  Loading Billie into the backseat, Reed didn’t say another word to the agents as he fired up his sedan and pulled out behind the cruiser, Greene running with the lights on.

  Flicking his gaze to the rearview as they turned onto High Street and headed north, picking up speed as they went, Reed saw headlights fall in behind him, moving fast to catch up, a pair of heads silhouetted in the front seat.

  “That’s what I thought,” he muttered, staying just a few feet back off of the cruiser’s bumper. Blasting the heat, he leaned forward and squeezed the steering wheel in either hand, pushing blood through his body, his core temperature rising. Bits of perspiration appeared on his forehead and scalp as traffic parted for them to pass, a miniature convoy pushing fast through the heart of the city.

  Above, heavy cloud cover continued to blanket the city, nary a single star or the moon providing any illumination. In their stead was only the orange hue of the streetlights, everything having an ethereal glow as they moved forward.

  There was little likelihood that Tek-Yen would be at the club, but for the first time all night, all week, Reed felt like he had a clear heading. Thanks to Bethanee Ing, he had the location of the establishment and the man that ran the place.

  Named Frank Wu, she had pieced together that he was a recent immigrant to America, his style and diction indicating he had studied extensively for the post he was now in. No more than mid-thirties in age, she had made painstaking notes about how he ran the operation, from his preferred manner of dealing in cash to his habit for sampling from the girls he employed.

  Just in the few minutes he had spent with the notes, Reed got the distinct impression that the man was a self-deluded savant, though in reality he was much closer to the common variety skeeze.

  No doubt there was infinitely more information to be gleaned from the copious notes Ing had taken, though given the situation and the truncated timeframe he was working under, Reed simply hadn’t yet had a chance to go through them.

  With any luck, they would soon have Wu and Deek would have saved the data, making for the coming days to be filled with enjoyable interrogation.

  Allowing just the slightest hint of a smile to curl up at the thought, Reed stayed close to the cruiser, alternating his gaze between the front windshield and the sedan behind him. For more than five minutes he stayed in that same position, all three pushing hard as they rolled into Clintonville.

  Just two minutes later they found what they were looking for.

  The destination was easy enough to spot, the roadway cordoned off, large black box trucks filling all four lanes, the letters SWAT stenciled across them in oversized block letters. Milling around the outside of each one was a small army of officers, every person dressed in solid black, hard hats strapped into place, automatic weapons at the ready.

  Clearly Grimes had been working the phones hard, calling in every favor he had.

  Immediately in front of them was a two story building that stretched almost the full length of the block, the exterior done in an architectural style rife with swaths of red color and high arches, clear nods to the traditional Chinese style.

  Along the top was a simple sign, black letters on a green background, announcing the name of the place as Jade, and nothing more.

  Unlike many such establishments in the city, it was clear at a glance that the place was purporting itself as something more than a common strip club, trying to exude a certain look, meant to appeal to a very specific clientele.

  Just the sight of it, knowing what took place within its doors, was enough to make Reed’s stomach turn.

  On approach, many of the SWAT officers turned and openly stared, Greene pulling off to the side at an angle, Reed sliding in beside him, the FBI agents doing the same, completing the trio.

  Jerking the keys from the ignition, Reed climbed out, waiting as Billie did the same. He didn’t bother to attach her to a lead, instead going straight to the trunk and popping it open, shrugging out of his leather jacket and grabbing up his Kevlar.

  The sound of the heavy Velcro straps rang out as he unfurled them and shrugged it on over his hoodie, the adrenaline pulsating through his system more than enough to make up for the cold enveloping him.

  Slamming the hood of the trunk shut, he glanced to either side, seeing the officers beside him both doing the same, Grimes standing and overseeing, making no effort to join them, the obvious inference being that he would be calling shots from outside, but would not be breaching.

  To the left, the agents both donned their own protective gear, yellow letters standing tall across their front and back. As they worked, neither one seemed to so much as glance his direction, Gott for the first time appearing to actually be concerned with the task at hand more than simply being a prick.

  Once everybody was dressed for entry, they moved to the front of their cars, forming a loose congregation with Grimes and Tucker at the helm.

  Across from them, the combined SWAT teams did the same, more than twenty law enforcement personnel coming together, all with their faces pulled tight, weapons readied.

  Taking a single step forward out of the crowd, a tall man with mocha colored skin and a thin goatee encasing his mouth nodded. “Captain Grimes.”

  “Captain Ward. Thanks for coming.”

  “Thanks for calling us in,” Ward replied. “How you want to handle this?”

  Shifting his attention to the front door, Grimes replied, “Do your thing. We’ll be right on your heels.”

  Chapter Sixty

  The directive was the shortest, most terse set of orders Reed had ever heard Grimes issue.

  Knowing better than to argue or second guess in the slightest, Ward nodded and immediately turned to his men, gathering them up for just a moment. Standing on the edge of the circle, his heart racing, bouncing on the balls of his feet, Reed barely whatever the man said, most likely the words being closer to a pep talk than any actual direction.

  Trained and retrained a hundred times over for situations just like these, every person present knew there was nothing that needed to be explained, no last minute tips that could be doled out.

  The moment he was done, Ward moved to the front, contingents immediately turning off to the either side, meant to deter any attempts at fleeing through secondary exits.

  Pausing just long enough to allow them to get into position, Ward stepped to the edge of the curb, his fist raised. Behind him, more than a dozen men stood poised to hurtle forward, Reed among them, his Glock gripped in both hands, Billie by his side.

  If it only were the two of them breaching, he would go first, jerking the door open, immediately calling for her to clear the scene.

  Now as a part of a larger team, he needed to ensure she stayed close by, as much for her own protection as Reed’s. While she was a detective as much as he was, had every right to be present, his implicit trust obvious with her by his side, he could not vouch for the others around him.

  If even one got twitchy on their trigger, he would never forgive himself.

  “Easy,” Reed whispered, feeling her pressed against his knee, ready to move, his voice just barely audible. “Easy.”

  Ahead of them, Ward stood completely still, his fist still poised overhead. In that position he waited as the teams disappeared around either corner of the building, pausing further still as a
ny sound of them faded away, before dropping his hand to his side.

  “Let’s move!”

  At once a charge went through the crew, two men sprinting forward and grasping either of the front doors leading into the club. Behind them came Ward, the rest of the crew right behind him, Reed, Greene, Gilchrist, and the agents making up the rear.

  It took just a few moments for the first of the group to ascend the front steps and enter through the doors, the back of the pack moving to fill in the gap behind them. Running as fast space would allow, they ascended the half dozen stairs to the front entrance and passed through a small holding area, the space narrow and well-lit, a pair of stools sitting to either side, obviously where bouncers for the club would normally be positioned.

  “They knew we were here,” Reed said as they passed through, SWAT members just a few feet in front of him, Greene tight to his side, Billie splitting the space between them.

  “Yup,” Greene agreed, the group surging through the bottleneck and exiting into the interior of the club.

  No regular to the strip club scene, the place looked to be fairly close to what Reed would have imagined, certainly on the upper end of the scale, but built to fulfill its main purpose.

  To the left was a bar extended the length of the room, alcohols of every sort lined up behind it. In the center of the space was a stage replete with poles and lighting, plush seating filling the areas in between, a few handfuls of customers parked on them, all turned and openly staring at the officers, their mouths sagging open, many bearing the guilty looks of children that had been caught doing something naughty.

  Beyond the general design of the place, any similarities Reed might have imagined ended there, the overhead lights on, the place bright. Clustered in a tight knot in front of the stage were a group of large men, some in plain black t-shirts, others wearing full suits, no doubt the bouncers and security personnel for the facility.

  Behind them, a handful of girls were clumped together, all wearing black pants or skirts and tops shimmering with sequins, each dressed in a manner that might border on risqué, but would certainly not fall under the heading of illegal. Huddled together, a palpable sense of fear and tension was obvious amongst them, the group numbering no more than a dozen in total.