Scarcity (Jack Randall #3) (22 page)

“Ah, but we did meet, didn’t we, Angel? You can push my buttons all you want, I don’t really care. Your ass belongs to me until I decide I’m done with you.”

“What, so I’m just your little slave? Is that it? Just a little puppet you can dangle on a string and make perform?”

“You have choices, Angel. You want to back out of our deal? Fine, I’ll give you back to the DEA guys and they can charge you with narcotics trafficking, organ smuggling, and a bunch of other stuff. We’ll put you up in one of our nice federal prisons where I’m sure you’ll know a few people. Gen-pop, of course, I mean you’re just another drug trafficker, right, why should you get special treatment? You’ll rot there for a year or so until we get around to the trial, just spending the days with all your friends out in the yard. Hell, I’ll even come to your funeral, just to see who else shows up.”

Angel sat down heavily and contemplated the box of donuts. Jake and Charlie had found their way out of the room but remained within earshot, enjoying Lenny’s verbal smack down of their guest.

“Fuck this, and fuck you, too, Lenny.”

“That’s what I thought. Don’t piss me off, Angel. I get the idea that you’re holding back, not telling us the truth, or playing games? I’ll end our little deal real quick, and all those things I just mentioned will come true. Don’t believe me? Go ahead and try it. I’ve read all the transcripts of you down in the basement here and I got to tell you, if you had a little accident? Nobody would cry for you, not one little bit.”

Angel’s eyes rose to meet his and Lenny saw that he’d hit the mark. He lowered his voice.

“What? You think you’re the only one who can make a phone call? I know people, too. I can do favors for people on the inside, favors that require one in return. You know how it works, right? Sure you do. Don’t fuck with me, Angel. I’m the guy picking out your nursing home.”

Lenny finished his coffee and grinned at Angel as he rose to leave. Angel followed him with his eyes, but wisely kept his mouth shut.

“When you coming back, Lenny?” Jake asked as he walked by.

“I don’t know yet. You’ll get a head’s up when it’s time to move, maybe tomorrow. Probably just be the three of us doing it.”

“Okay.”

“Try not to kill the witness, okay?”

“Gonna be tough.”

“Try real hard.”

“Will do.”

Lenny donned his sunglasses and took a good look around before walking down the steps and around the corner to his car. Backing up through the narrow gap between the trash cans and the fence, he made it out into the street without scratching the paint. The nearest approaching car was over a block away, so he paused to light up another cigarette before putting it in drive and pulling away. He headed toward the Hoover Building. He was having lunch with Jack.

•      •      •

“That’s him, right there”

“Slow down, I need to get some pictures. Remember the address.”

“Okay.”

It was Manuel’s turn in the driver’s seat. He and Jimmy had been following the signal from Lenny’s car for the last couple of hours. They had first visited a few spots Lenny had stopped at in the last few days. One turned out to be a hotel, but after a check of the registry and a quick walk through, they decided that Lenny had most likely just met someone for a lunch meeting. Jimmy couldn’t see them keeping a federal witness in a hotel barely a block from the Capitol Building. The other place had turned out to be a barber shop. About that time Lenny’s car had started moving so they had tailed him for awhile from several blocks back, and even caught a glimpse of him when he doubled back and crossed in front of them at a stoplight. The unusual driving activity had them both on edge. The man was obviously going somewhere he didn’t want any company. After he had stopped, Manuel had found a place to park and wait. After it appeared that Lenny was staying for awhile Jimmy had decided on a drive-by. They pulled up just in time to watch him pull out and drive away.

“Coming up.”

Jimmy thumbed the camera on and held it up against the glass. He silently cursed the bumpy road as they passed. Neither one of them looked at the house as it went by and Jimmy hit the button repeatedly getting about five unaimed shots. Manuel voiced the address out loud and Jimmy repeated it several times to himself. Soon they were at the corner where Lenny had turned.

“Follow him?”

“No, go straight for a while.”

“Okay.”

Jimmy flipped the laptop back open and watched the signal tracer from Lenny’s car move toward the Mall. He was probably headed to the Hoover Building, he decided.

“He’s going to the office, I think. Let’s go back to the hotel.”

“You’re the boss.”

Several minutes later they pulled back into the parking ramp of their hotel and made a hasty exit to their room. Jimmy walked to the balcony and opened the laptop again. They had a better signal out there.

“He’s parked a block down from the Hoover Building again. Why he doesn’t park there, I don’t understand.”

“Maybe security just takes too long?”

“Could be. Anyway, looks like he’s there for awhile. Get your laptop out, let’s do some recon.”

“Okay.”

Jimmy pulled the memory card from the camera and stuck it the computer. Soon he had five decent if somewhat blurry pictures of a small row house in suburban DC on the screen. They looked them over carefully several times.

“Looks like a house,” Manuel threw out.

“Garage is shut. Maybe a car in there, maybe not. Curtains are all pulled. Grass is a little long,” Jimmy added.

“Think that’s the place? I don’t see any security. No cameras.”

“Cameras are so damn small now I doubt we would. The only time you see the big surveillance cameras anymore is if they want you to know that they’re there. Let’s see what it used to look like.”

Manuel’s fingers flew over the keyboard and they soon had Google maps up. Typing in the address, he navigated the camera down the street until they had a view of the house. This one was two years old and not blurry. Manuel used the directional features to scan back and forth and see the house from all sides available.

“The door’s been changed. There’s a little window where there used to be a big one, looks like they added a deadbolt, too. The curtains are heavier. Those shrubs around the basement windows are new, too.”

“So what do you think?”

“I think we found our place. Save these pictures and get them printed off.”

Jimmy studied the pictures as Manuel’s fingers flew across the keyboard again.

“Any ideas?”

“Let’s look around the neighborhood a little.”

“Okay.”

Manuel navigated the computer camera up and down the street several times and they both took notes of things they saw on both sides of the street. Being how the images were two years old, it was difficult to say what it looked like now, but they got the general idea and a good picture in their heads of the lay of the land. Jimmy dug in his bag and pulled out a street map of DC and stuck it on the wall. He called out names to Manuel and he typed them in. They spent the afternoon learning the entire neighborhood without leaving the hotel. After a couple of hours Jimmy sat back and stared at the picture for a while. Manuel waited patiently.

“I think I’ve got an idea, but we’ll need some equipment.”

“What kind?”

Jimmy told him.

“And where do we get that?”

“From some friends.”

“What kind of friends do you have that would have that?”

“The Italian kind.” Jimmy grinned.

•      •      •

The plane screamed out of the clouds as the pilot took it into another sharp turn, spiraling them down out of the Afghanistan sky in a figure eight pattern to avoid any Taliban missiles that may come their way. The Global Express responded like a fighter and the pilot couldn’t help but crack a grin. It wasn’t an F-14 like he had flown years ago, but it was fun. The plane responded to every control input as if it was reading his mind. It was one of the few pleasures he could derive out of this job. Knowing that the medics in the back were strapped in as tight as the belts would allow and trying their best to hold down their lunch was even better. The plane came out of the turn right on the approach heading and he leveled the wings to line up with the runway.

“Love this plane,” he commented to the copilot.

“The Canadians do something right once in awhile.”

“If it flies like this
and
has a bar on board, what more could you ask for?”

“I don’t know, hot stewardesses?”

“Got me there, let’s put this thing down. Checklist?”

The copilot began the checklist from memory while the pilot voiced his replies to every prompt. He glanced back in the rear to see the two medics looking back from their captain’s chairs. They both offered a weak thumb’s up. He sniffed the air before turning back to the cockpit.

“No puke in the back, have to try harder next time.”

“Long as the wings stay on.”

After touching down they taxied to the hangar reserved by their company. A man on a forklift with an empty pallet waited. They would offload the machine and some supplies for appearance’s sake to the waiting helicopter before the medics would ride off in it to the base.

Getting closer, they saw another man approach from the hangar office. He was waiting when they finally opened the door. He was one of their men.

“Hey, Steve, what’s the word?” the pilot asked.

“No change. You guys are refueling and heading back to the States as soon as they get back.” He paused until the forklift driver passed. “Precious cargo heading for Johns Hopkins. I’ve got all the necessary paperwork.”

“Is the heart ready now?” the medic asked.

The man checked his watch, holding it up to catch the sun.

“Almost.”

Mexico: Police Chief Abducted
THE ASSOCIATED PRESS—July 18, 2008
 
 

—SEVENTEEN—

M
anuel had sat quietly and watched for the last two hours while Jimmy produced his little black book and made a series of phone calls. Most of the conversations were short and Jimmy often worked his sentences to fit in a certain code word. This would lead to another number being called and another phrase spoken. Finally Jimmy reached who he wanted and the conversation was one of two old friends catching up. Eventually they got around to business, and Jimmy told the man what he needed. A few details were worked out before the conversation ended. Jimmy set the phone down and kicked the chair back.

“So now what?”

“We wait,” was all the reply Manuel got.

An hour went by until the phone rang again. Jimmy answered on the first ring and was soon taking notes. Several grunted replies later, he hung up and tore the page off the pad.

“Pack up your stuff. We won’t be coming back here.”

A few hours later found them cruising through an industrial section of town populated mainly by warehouses and fenced-in lots. Dogs barked from behind fences as they passed and the occasional truck passed them moving another load, but the street was mostly empty.

“Is that it?”

Manuel followed his partner’s pointed finger and used his sharper eyes to read the numbers on the side of the building.

“That’s it. He said around back, second door.”

Jimmy spun the wheel to comply while looking for the welcoming committee. He didn’t have to wait long. As the car approached the second corner of the building a man with a sub-machinegun cradled in his arms stepped out in front of them. The barrel didn’t waver. Jimmy slowed to a stop and thumbed the window down.

The man approached slowly until he was standing next to the car.

“You Jimmy?”

“That would be me. Tony sent me.”

“Pull up to the second door. It’ll open for ya.”

“Got it.”

The man stepped back into the shadow of the building and disappeared. Jimmy did what he had been told. The door opened to reveal what looked to be a truck maintenance garage. Its greasy floor housed a lift, several tool boxes and all the related equipment. Posters of scantily clad females adorned the walls along with a few Nascar items. A glowing Budweiser racing clock kept the time on the wall. Standing below it was a small man dressed in dirty coveralls. Thick glasses perched on his nose and he thumbed them back up with a dirty hand as he squinted into the approaching headlights. He waved them forward with a nervous energy and Jimmy pulled the car in until he was waved still. The man thumbed a switch on the wall and the door began to close behind them, prompting Manuel to exit the car quickly and reach into his waistband.

“Relax, what the hell? Think I’m gonna shoot ya or something? What the fuck? I don’t do guns, not my thing. Come on in and lemme hear what you want.” The man spoke with a rapid-fire nasal voice and his hands never seemed to stay still. He wiped his nose on his sleeve and gestured for them to follow him. He walked away toward the back of the shop without seeing if he was being followed.

They exchanged a look before Manuel shrugged and stowed his gun. They followed at a distance until they found themselves in a well equipped machine shop. A transmission sat in pieces on one bench, while a tricked-out big block engine sat mounted on a nearby stand. The item Jimmy had requested sat in the middle of the floor.