Terminal 9 (32 page)

Tyler eased into the chair, eying both detectives warily. Dana handed him a small black earpiece that was connected to a long black cord. She plugged the other end into an elaborate recording device that was equipped with a small speaker.

“Have you ever done this before?” Dana asked.

“Nope.”

“That little device I gave you is the earpiece. Go ahead and slip it in. This is a mini recording device that will record your voice as well as anything you hear. In this case, hopefully,we'll get Addison Shaw.”

“Won't the number from this phone show up on his caller ID?”

“Not on this phone; it has a special line that will read ‘private number' if he has caller ID. All you have to do is talk like you normally would. Detective McAllister will listen in with this full size set of headphones.” Dana motioned to the pair Mac picked up. “In addition to recording the call,Mac can follow the conversation and will write down any questions we want answered. All you have to do is confront Shaw with what you told us and ask for the money. Once he agrees, set up a meet at your squatter's camp down by the river. Tonight if possible.”

“What if he won't meet me or stiffs me on some of the money?”

“If he won't meet you or plays dumb, don't push him,” Mac answered. “If he wants to bargain on the money, let him come down a bit. I'll give you a thumbs-up if the deal he proposes is okay. Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, let's do this.” Tyler took a deep breath and blew it out before reaching for the phone.

Mac picked up the receiver and started the tape. “Tyler, before you dial, give me the date and time, and the number you're dialing.”

Cohen gave the requested information and Mac played back the recording. “Okay, everything's working fine. Go ahead and dial the number.” Mac put on the headphones and listened intently, his pen poised above a pad.

Tyler's hands trembled as he dialed the number. Shaw answered after three rings.

“Mr. Shaw?”Tyler glanced up at Mac, who nodded to go ahead.

“Yes?” Shaw seemed hesitant.

“This is Tyler Cohen. Remember me?”

“Um, yes, Mr. Cohen. I thought I had lost track of you. Where have you been?” The response sounded stiff and formal. Mac suspected someone, maybe Shaw's wife, was in the room.

“That's not important. You got my money?”

“I'd rather not talk about this tonight. Can we meet in person?

Perhaps sometime tomorrow?”

“Answer my question—you got the cash?” Cohen was getting agitated, and Mac signaled for him to calm down.

“I have it, just not all of it. I'd like to meet and work out some of the details.”

“What details?” Cohen huffed. “There's nothing to work out. I saw you torch that place and so did Mandy. And I saw on TV what the cops found in the house. I don't think I asked for enough.”

“I'll be happy to handle the investments for you. At any rate, I'd rather not discuss this over the phone.”

“How much?”

“Fifteen thousand. That's all I can do right now.”

Mac nodded to keep going.

“Okay. Meet me tonight, at my camp by the railroad bridge.” Tyler gave him directions.

“Will you be alone?” Shaw asked.

“Yeah. I'll be alone, but don't go getting any ideas. Anything happens to me, and my girlfriend will go straight to the cops.” Mac smiled. The kid was really getting into it.

“I'm sure that won't be necessary. What time?” Shaw asked, anger evident in his clipped tone.

Mac scratched
11
on his notepad and held it up so Tyler could see.

“Eleven. And come alone.”

“Eleven it is.”

Mac terminated the call and turned off the tape recorder. “Good job,Tyler. I couldn't have done it better myself.”

“You did great, Tyler,” Dana said. Turning to Mac she asked, “Did you get much on the phone?”

“Well, he didn't come clean, but he didn't deny the accusation either. And he's agreeing to pay Tyler off. I think that's enough to get him for arson and the murder of Jacob Mullins, even if he doesn't show up for the meet.”

“I just hope he shows up with cash and doesn't try to kill me.” Tyler had relaxed a little.

“You don't have to worry about that, my friend.” Mac gripped his shoulder. “We'll take it from here.” He shook Tyler's hand when the youth stood. “Appreciate your help.”

“Sure.” The kid smiled. “No problem.” Maybe there was hope for him yet.

TWO HOURS LATER, the officers were in place, waiting for Addison Shaw to show.

“You doing okay?” Dana asked Mac over the portable radio. From her vantage point on the rail bridge, she could see his silhouette on the tent wall.

“Smells kind of moldy in here,” Mac told her, “but really quite comfy with these sleeping bags. Just hope I don't end up with some kind of lice infestation.”

Dana cringed. “I hope not either. I have to share a car with you on the way home.”

“Any sign of Shaw yet? It's getting down to crunch time.”

Dana gazed through her night-vision binoculars into the darkness before answering. The dusty road that led down to the railroad bridge was dark and vacant. No sign of Shaw or his car. “Nothing yet, Mac. We're ready for him, though.” Dana looked back into her night-vision binoculars at the two sets of sniper-spotter groups from their department SWAT team. Sergeant Evans was seated with her at the east end of the bridge, with Russ and Philly on the west. The SWAT members were stationed in the middle of the bridge for an elevated vantage with two .308 sniper rifles. They also had a tactical team under the bridge with their automatic MP-5 submachine guns, in case Shaw came armed with more than a briefcase full of cash.

“I wish I'd have thought to go to the bathroom before I crawled into this thing,” Mac said into the radio.

“Go ahead; who's watching?” Dana joked.

“Funny,” Mac whispered back.

Mac had been waiting in the stuffy tent for well over an hour, and his nerves were beginning to get the best of him. He'd kept the propane lantern running in the tent so his silhouette was visible from the outside. His scruffy jacket and cap made him look like a transient. It was almost eleven-thirty. Maybe Shaw wasn't going to show up after all. He was about to ask Dana if she could see anything when his radio crackled.

“Set of headlights coming down the road, Mac, hang tight,” Dana said in a throaty whisper. “Looks like Shaw's Lexus. He's about a hundred yards out.”

The headlights grazed the tent shortly after Dana's transmission and he heard the car's tires crunch on the gravel road before he heard the engine. The car came to a stop.

Mac held his breath when the irritating beep sounded, indicating the car door had opened and the lights were still on.

“Cohen?” Shaw called out speaking just above a whisper.

Mac lifted his Glock .40 from his holster and pulled back the flap of the tent before emerging. “Hello, Mr. Shaw,” Mac greeted. “Are you looking for someone?” He held his pistol at his right leg, ready to use it if necessary.

Shaw squinted in the darkness. “Cohen? Is that you?”

“Step into the headlights, Mr. Shaw,” Mac told him.

“Who are you? What's going on?” The attorney stepped back from his open door, pulling a silver revolver from his waistband. His gaze flitted from Mac's shadowy form to the tent. He appeared to be contemplating his next move when six red dots appeared on his throat and chest—the end of the line for a series of laser sites on the SWAT member's rifles and submachine guns.

“What the . . . ?”

“State Police!” The SWAT commander yelled from atop the rail bridge. “Step away from the car and drop the gun! Drop it now or you're dead where you stand!” The officer yelled a final warning as the ground team officers held steady on their target.

“You got him?” the SWAT commander asked the sniper.

“I've got him, Lieutenant. Just give me the green light.”

“Do as they say, Addison,” Mac yelled as he backed toward the bridge, his own firearm aimed at Shaw's chest. “It doesn't have to end this way!”

Shaw panicked and tossed his briefcase into the passenger seat of the car. Before he could get his car in reverse, a SWAT officer with an MP-5 fired a burst into the right front tire of the Lexus and a second into the left, instantly blowing both tires. The sniper on the bridge fired three rapid rounds into the car's engine through the hood with his high-powered rifle. The Lexus sputtered and died.

“Hands, show me your hands!” one of the SWAT troopers yelled from ground level as the tactical team approached the car behind a ballistic shield.

Shaw looked down at his revolver, apparently discarding the initial thought of running. “I give up.” He placed his hands out the open window of the Lexus. “I didn't know you were police! I thought I was being robbed!”

I'll bet.
“Step out of the car.”With adrenaline pumping through his veins, Mac spoke with more force than he probably needed to.

“Hit the ground, facedown.”

Shaw stepped out. Dropping his revolver, he went to his knees then lay flat on his stomach, placing his hands behind his back like a pro.

“Good move, Shaw,” Mac told him.

“Move and you will be shot,” the ground trooper yelled. A second trooper from the tactical team quickly handcuffed Shaw and secured his firearm. He then walked back to Mac and handed him the gun. “He's all yours, Mac. Good luck.”

“What, you're not sticking around?” Mac teased. As was their usual order of business, the SWAT team handed over the scene to detectives once the threat was secured.

“Naw, I've got to work a graveyard shift tonight still. This was just an appetizer.”

“I've got the feeling we'll both be working late tonight.” Mac thanked the trooper and turned back to Shaw.

TWENTY-
EIGHT

M
AC CUT THE PLASTIC FLEX CLFFS off Shaw's wrists when they arrived at the jail, throwing the temporary restraints used by the SWAT team in the garbage can next to the booking counter. Mac pulled his own metal set from his shoulder holster.

“Is this really necessary?” Shaw rubbed his wrists for a moment then placed them back behind his back for Mac to cuff.

Dana was filling out the booking slip while Shaw and Mac waited in awkward silence in the waiting area.

“Sure you have nothing to say?” Even though Shaw had invoked his right to remain silent after the arrest, Mac tried again.

Shaw shook his head and muttered something inaudible.

Apparently, the answer was still no. The lawyer was experienced enough not to make any initial statements until he had a chance to review the evidence against him in a preliminary hearing. Shaw had a look of defeat on his face though, obviously anxious about his future—or lack of one.

Mac could almost empathize. Almost.

Dana completed the paperwork and the jail deputy accepted the prisoner, giving Shaw a second search and asking the standard list of very personal questions. The deputy pulled out Shaw's pockets and examined them after all the contents were placed in a large plastic bag, along with his belt and shoelaces.

“Do you have any questions for me before we go?” Mac took his cuffs back from the deputy as Shaw was secured in a temporary holding cell behind a heavy steel door with a dense wire screen.

Shaw surveyed his new residence before answering. “May I have the disposition of my vehicle?”

“It's being towed to our office in Portland where we can store it indoors for processing. I'm sure you understand we've applied for a warrant for a forensic search of the vehicle.”

“I assumed as much. You do not have my consent to search or seize any items in the vehicle. I'd like you to make note of my assertion in your police report.”

Mac pursed his lips. “I hadn't planned on asking, but I'll make note of your request.”

“Can someone tell me what the bail is set at?”

“No bail for aggravated murder, Shaw; you should know that. The judge may set a bail at the arraignment, but I imagine it'll be steep when combined with first-degree arson.”

“We'll see about that.” That smug look returned to Shaw's face. “I hope you realize that Cohen boy is lying. You people are going to pay dearly.”

Mac didn't challenge him. He'd let the evidence speak for itself.

Several minutes later, he and Dana walked out to the car, sharing a satisfied silence. Mac loosened his tie, then yawned and stretched before unlocking the door. “I'm beat.”

“You and me both.” Dana slumped into the seat. “Want to grab a bite?”

“As long as it is something we can eat on the way back to the office. I don't want to delay my date with the sandman any longer than I have to.” Mac started the car and started toward their office. “Drive-thru okay with you?”

“You can head straight in if you want.”

“Actually that sounds better than food at the moment. I'm badly in need of a shower.”

“So what's next?” Dana dropped the visor and winced as she glanced at her image in the small mirror. “I suppose you want to check on Shaw's car.”

“Right. Let's make sure the Lexus is all locked up. I'm sure Philly and Russ have the vehicle secured in the evidence bay, but we'll have to swear to it in the affidavit so we better have a look-see. Then,” he glanced over at her and smiled, “I'm going home. I want to get a good night's sleep before finishing up the warrant in the morning.” They would need to type the information about the meeting and arrest.

Dana flipped back the visor. “That Shaw character is something else. Murder and arson. I have a hunch it all started with Clay Mullins's will.” She frowned. “I have to say, though, I'm having a little trouble with motive.”

“It does seem strange, doesn't it? What difference would it make to him if the property was turned over to the railroad and the city? His fee would have been the same.”