DEAD: Darkness Before Dawn (37 page)

Since they were out of their jurisdiction, they trailed Sherman in the accompaniment of a member of the Royal Can
adian Mounted Police. Sherman led them to a parking garage located in downtown Vancouver B.C. The location was quickly relayed to RCMP officials who were asked to wait for Sherman’s departure before raiding the location. The last thing Dakota wanted was for the Canadians to barge in before the exchange could take place. Extraditing Sherman would be a major pain in the ass.

Apparently Sherman and his contact (or contacts) were very adept in this exchange. Less than ten minutes elapsed when Sherman emerged from the garage. Dakota quickly r
elayed the go-ahead for the Canadians to proceed with their end of the bust.  After bidding farewell and good-luck to their RCMP rider, Dakota signaled his surveillance team that the suspect was returning. This time however, things would operate a little differently. 

***

At about one o’clock in the morning, Sherman pulled i
nto a rest area. The news was immediately relayed to Dakota and Derrick who had taken up a position just inside the U.S.-Canadian border. They were set up to apprehend their suspect once it was determined where he would emerge on the U.S. side.

“Maybe he’s got to take a leak,” Dakota r
adioed back.

“Uh, that’s a negative,” a voice crackled back on the r
adio, “he appears to be just sitting in the vehicle.”

“Well, just maintain visual contact and keep us advised of anything that o
ccurs, over.”

The two Canadian agents sat in their vehicle staring at the parked Hummer waiting for something to happen. What could this Sherman fellow be waiting for? Had he caught on? The answer came about fifteen minutes later.

“Hunter, this is Bloodhound Six, come in, over,” the radio squawked, startling Dakota.

Derrick grabbed the mike, “Go ahead Six.”

“Hunter, we’ve got an interesting situation. A big car-carrier rig has just pulled in. They appear to be loading up the Hummer, over.”

“You want to run that by me again!” Derrick replied, not sure he had heard the report correctly.

“I said, they’re loading the Hummer onto a car transport rig,” Bloodhound six repeated.

“Shit!” Derrick muttered. He keyed the mike again, “Maintain surveillance, Bloodhound Six. I
nform us as soon as they roll out, over.”

A moment later the radio came to life again. “Hunter, I have an update you’re gonna want to hear,” Bloodhound Six a
nnounced. “Man, these guys’ve got it together.”

“Just give the report and save the commentary,” De
rrick snapped.

“They have off-loaded a second Hummer identical to the first. They are currently switching the plates,” Bloo
dhound Six reported.

“What about the shipment?” Derrick asked.

“It appears to still be aboard the vehicle on the transport rig.”

Dakota quickly pulled out a map of the area, checking any routes that the transport rig might ut
ilize. After conferring with Derrick, he deployed their surveillance teams to the locations that would best allow interception.

“Hunter, this is Bloodhound Six, the switch has been completed. Both contacts are rolling out.”

“Are you certain that they didn’t transfer the drugs?” Derrick asked.

“It doesn’t appear so,” was the reply.

“Thanks for the good work,” Derrick acknowledged.

Within minutes, the directions of the transport rig and the decoy Hummer was determined. Dakota assigned the Pi
per to maintain contact with the Hummer, while ground teams kept an eye on the transport rig. Considering its size, the semi would need to stay on the major highways. The transport rig proved to be relatively easy to follow as it circled around in a southwestern arc towards Utah.

Sherman did little to mask his movements as he cut through Id
aho and into Oregon. He stayed on Interstate 8, and then switched to I-5 at Portland. From there he made a bee-line straight to Seattle.

He pulled into the Pennington lot early Wednesday afte
rnoon. Less than four hours later, the transport rig arrived. Dakota and Derrick had already set up surveillance early that same morning, choosing to observe the arrivals personally.

They watched as the original Hummer was off-loaded. Afterwards, the decoy was reloaded along with two other veh
icles that sat beside the garage adjoining what could only be the office.

Upon completion of this obviously well-oiled evol
ution, Brian Sherman, along with a man Dakota identified as Marty Pennington from DEA photographs, disappeared into the office. Meanwhile, a mechanic pulled the original Hummer into the garage, pulling the door down behind him to keep out prying eyes.

Ten minutes passed as Derrick and Dakota waited an
xiously for any sign of activity. Finally, the mechanic emerged from the garage and strolled casually to the office. The garage’s roll-down door remained partially open, allowing for an only slightly obstructed view of the Hummer inside.

Derrick produced his field glasses and took a look. “Well, what do you know,” he passed the binoculars over to D
akota.

Dakota took a look. There sat the Hummer, the driver’s side door propped against the body of the vehicle. Also, the driver’s seat had been r
emoved.

Another half an hour elapsed with no further activity. Derrick radioed back to Captain Bell that everything so far seemed to substantiate their suspicions. He informed the ca
ptain that they would hold their position until Pennington was alone before making the bust. Captain Bell approved, informing them that Brian Sherman’s residence was staked out. Warrants for the arrest of both Pennington and Sherman were already complete, along with the appropriate search warrants for the two locations.

“No mistakes, boys.ad, he climbed into a gray Me
rcedes. If he was indeed en route to make his deliveries, then he wasn’t conforming to the story Nonsa gave them. Both men watched as the Mercedes turned onto an access ramp that led to I-405.
Another minute later, Pennington exited the office with the mechanic. There was a brief exchange of words between the two, a handshake, then Pennington proceeded to a red Corvette. They both noticed a metal box that Pennington carried tucked under one arm. Pennington placed the box in the car, climbed in, and drove off. Meanwhile, the mechanic busied himself with locking up the office and garage.
“What do we do?” Dakota asked.
“We follow Pennington,” Derrick replied. “He’s our man. We can nab the John Doe mechanic later if need be.” in the car, climbed in, and drove off. Meanwhile, the mechanic busied himself with locking up the office and garage.

“What do we do?” Dakota asked.

“We follow Pennington,” Derrick replied. “He’s our man. We can nab the John Doe mechanic later if need be.”

Dakota started the engine of the car they had spent the last two days in and took off after their suspect. He managed to keep three cars between Pennington and themselves as they fo
llowed their quarry towards I-5. Once on the interstate, maintaining contact became more difficult. Rush hour was in full swing causing Dakota to fall as many as five cars behind at times.

Once they approached Seattle’s City Center, Pennin
gton exited. His route made it likely that the ferry terminal was his destination. It was in the downtown chaos that Pennington managed to elude them. A red light brought the car in front of Dakota to a halt, they watched helplessly as the red Corvette pulled away.

By the time they managed to continue pursuit, Pennin
gton had disappeared from sight. Dakota crossed his fingers and hoped their assumption about the ferry terminals being the ultimate destination was a correct one. They slowly crept along in the bumper-to-bumper gridlock that plagued downtown Seattle’s rush hour.

Eventually they rounded the corner. The terminal came into view, but their dread was confirmed as they watched the ferry pull away from the pier. As it broke out into open water, they spied Marty Pennington’s red Co
rvette in the car bay.

“Dammit!” Dakota pounded the steering wheel.

Derrick radioed back to Captain Bell with the bad news as they moved in line for the next ferry. Thirty minutes later, they were on the trail again proceeding to the address that belonged to Pennington. By the time they arrived, an hour had elapsed. Pulling up to the house, they saw no sign of the red Corvette. A quick check of the residence revealed that Pennington was not there.

“Now what?” Dakota turned to his grim-faced par
tner.

“I say we get on the horn and get a unit out here to keep an eye on the place. We go back to the car lot and wait to see who shows up,” Derrick d
ecided.

They drove back to Burien in silence. On the way, De
rrick pulled a duffel bag into the front seat and changed into a pair of worn out coveralls. Once they reached their destination, Dakota pulled out another bag from the back and changed as well.

The night passed with no activity. Word came that the situation at the Pennington house likewise was proving to be a bust. As morning came and went, Dakota could feel the frustr
ation building. They continued to wait. Sooner or later, someone would have to show up.

In the years that he had been partners with Derrick, D
akota had learned a lot. The first lesson had been the hardest.

“Be patient,” Derrick had said, “these guys ain’t rocket scientists. Eventually they make a mi
stake. Our job is to be there when they do.”

Right now, Dakota found little consolation in those words.

As noon approached, there was still nothing to report from either location. Just maybe someone had caught on to their scheme. Was it possible that Sherman or Pennington discovered the fact that Sherman had been trailed? Dakota doubted it, but then why hadn’t anyone returned to either the Pennington home or the rental lot?

The next afternoon, hopes mounted and plunged in one fell swoop. A car pulled up in front of the lot. A man in a nice suit emerged from the car. Derrick arose from his pos
ition at a nearby bus stop and began to shuffle down the street to get a better look. The man peered into the window of the office then glanced at his watch. As Derrick got close enough to get a good look at the man’s face, a cab arrived at the lot. The mechanic stepped out carrying a briefcase. He paid the driver of the cab, and then went to greet the man in the suit.

Derrick moved close enough to eavesdrop on the conve
rsation. He listened as the mechanic apologized for being late for the arrival of the man in the suit. He ushered the man to the office, unlocked the door, and the two disappeared inside.

Derrick continued along the street waving Dakota off. Dakota watched as his partner ducked inside a small diner that sat kitty-corner to the Pennington lot. He eased back into his a
lley and continued to watch the office for any activity.

A few moments later, the mechanic exited and led the man in the suit to a black Range Rover. He opened the door for the man in the suit. The two shook hands, then the man climbed in and drove off. The mechanic waved as the man drove away, then returned to the office. Three more customers came and went during the remainder of the day. At around seven that night, a cab arrived. The mechanic exited the o
ffice. He checked the door to ensure it was locked and then left.

Inside the diner, Derrick sat at a table that provided an excellent view of everything. When he had entered, he quic
kly identified himself to the hostess behind the counter. He asked for the manager, and waited at the counter for the hostess to return.

The manager turned out to be the owner as well. He e
xplained that he had recently retired from Boeing and purchased the place. He ran it with his wife, also recently retired from Boeing.

Derrick briefly explained that he needed a seat by the window. The man seemed eager to help, ushering Derrick to a booth at the end of the restaurant. In addition, he personally d
elivered a hot cup of coffee and a stack of roast beef sandwiches. Derrick reached for his wallet, but the man waved him away.

“That’s very kind of you, mister,” Derrick said.

“Anthony Munroe is the name, but folks just call me Mo,” he introduced himself.

“Pleased to meet you, name’s De
rrick.”

“I don’t know who or what you’re lookin’ for, and I reckon it ain’t none of my business. I s’pose you’d tell me if ya wanted to, but anytime I can help an officer of the law...well then, that’s my civic duty. That’s the trouble nowadays. Ever
ybody and their cousin wants to bitch, but nobody wants to do their part to help.”

Derrick thanked him and spent the rest of the day obser
ving the Pennington lot from the comfort of that booth. That evening, after the mechanic had come again and just as quickly gone, Derrick got up to leave. Mo met him at the front desk with two large to-go boxes. Each one contained a homemade meatloaf dinner complete with baked potato, corn on the cob, and a dinner roll. He also produced two large thermoses full of coffee.