The Surge - 03 (11 page)

“Uh-huh.”

It was dusk when the duo finally arrived in the outskirts of San Antonio, and neither ranger was happy with the congestion and subsequent delay. “Damn it. I wanted to get a good look at that steakhouse in the daylight,” Zach grumbled.

“I’m hungry. Are we there yet, Daddy? How much longer?” Sam whined, her imitation of a travel-weary child making Zach chuckle.

People from outside of Texas came to San Antonio mostly for the Alamo, which was the republic’s single largest tourist attraction. Millions visited the historic mission and battleground every year, rambling through the gardens, small museum, and barracks where Santa Anna duked it out with Bowie and Travis. The Mexican general was to become the poster child for winning the battle but losing the war. 

Texans, however, flocked to Alamo Town because they love the River Walk.

Residing one story below the downtown surface streets, the attraction is akin to an oasis beneath the city. For miles and miles, the San Antonio River meanders through the urban sprawl, flowing peacefully under dozens of bridges. The banks, lined with wide walkways, enormous bald cypress trees, and decorative landscaping, provide a cool, park-like atmosphere just beneath the hustle and bustle.

Built in the late 1930’s with money from the Works Progress Administration or WPA, the River Walk was initially created to avoid deadly floods caused by the San Antonio River. Over the years and through several expansions, it had become the unofficial heart of the city.

Lined with theaters, restaurants, shops, and hotels, people came in droves to party, spend money, eat well, and stroll along the beautifully manicured river. There were even chauffeured boat tours and more extravagant dinner cruises drifting along the water.

Zach and Sam, however, had other reasons for visiting.

The two rangers checked into a mid-level hotel, an institution that always kept a few extra rooms available for government employees. Zach was ready to claim that they were food inspectors, but the clerk didn’t seem to care.

Thirty minutes later, they met in the lobby, both ready to scout the area surrounding the meeting tomorrow. They crossed the bridge on St. Mary’s Street and then descended two flights of wide, stone steps. It was as if they had been transported to an entirely different world.

The river wasn’t wide, less than 70 feet across. Both banks were formed concrete, sometimes reinforced with various colors, shapes and sizes of limestone, granite, and bedrock quarried from the nearby Hill Country.

The sidewalk twisted right to the water’s edge without any guardrails or safety devices that would have obstructed the openness or distracted from the view.

As the two rangers headed east along the winding waterway, they strolled past cafes, expensive restaurants, gift shops, jewelry stores, and practically every type of business they would expect to see on the city streets above.

Every so often, the duo encountered huge bald cypresses at the water’s edge. Some were said to be several hundred years old, their massive canopies creating a tunnel-like effect of shade and cool air during the hottest of days.

Foliage and greenery were abundant, lush ferns often lining both sides of the walkway. Some of the bridges they passed under were completely covered in ivy vines, others sporting tasteful rows of hanging plants with carpets of flowers underneath.

The occasional fountain or statue added spice to the smorgasbord of hue and sound. In some places, brightly colored umbrellas lined the shores, providing additional respite for diners and those just wanting to sit and people watch.

Despite the seriousness of the upcoming meeting, both the lawmen couldn’t help but feel some of their stress being absorbed by the tranquil surroundings. Zach was always amazed at how soothing the place was. The ranger couldn’t decide if it were the water, vegetation, or some combination of factors beyond his reasoning. The “oasis within a city” just seemed to calm his nerves, no matter how taut or frayed.

They trekked for several blocks before Sam announced they had arrived at the prescribed address for Chey’s meeting. Without being too obvious, Zach glanced left and right, but couldn’t find any sign that advertised Titus.  “You sure?” he asked, glancing at his partner.

“Yup.”

The fact that the restaurant’s location wasn’t obvious didn’t alarm the two rangers. Part of the River Walk’s charm was the narrow stairwells, hidden nooks, and secluded plazas. In spots, it resembled a maze of Rome’s back alleys passing through a matrix of 17
th
-century Spanish architecture.

It was Sam who spotted a gated, adobe brick staircase that led to an ancient-looking wooden door of Spanish design. Next to the heavy iron knocker was a small brass plaque that read, “Titus.”

“Shit,” Zach whispered, “That’s not an easy place to observe. I was hoping for big, clear windows and lots of sidewalk seating.”

“Let’s walk around a bit,” Sam suggested. “Maybe that’s just the back entrance or something.”

They returned to the surface level at the next bridge, the noise and car exhaust of San Antonio’s streets greeting the two lawmen as if they had opened a door to a rock concert.

Ten minutes later, they had circled the block and cut through the only alley.

Like so much of the old city, Titus was sandwiched between two larger, newer structures. Part of its parent building had been converted to a street-view retail center while other sections had been divided into smaller shops along the river’s bank. The result was a labyrinth of angles, corners, and a series of unmarked doors that could be anything from fire exits to delivery entrances. There was simply no way to be sure of the eatery’s interior layout.

“This isn’t good,” Zach grumbled, stating the obvious.

“Should we have Chey cancel?” Sam pondered. “If we can’t keep an eye on her, I don’t think either of us will feel good about this.”

Rubbing his chin, Zach reasoned, “If we knew there was only one way in and one way out, then I’d say it was worth a shot. Cartel boss or mafia Don, I don’t think our mystery man is going to pull a gun and shoot her right in the middle of enjoying his filet mignon.”

“How are you going to get inside without flashing a badge and forcing our way in? There’s no way a judge would sign a warrant in time … if ever.”

“I’ve got an idea about that. I need to make a call first thing in the morning. Right now, let’s find a sandwich, and then I need some sleep. We both need to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at sun-up.”

The next morning, the two rangers met early in the hotel’s small restaurant for breakfast and coffee. Zach kept glancing at his watch as if waiting for the witching hour.

Finally, he reached for his cell and made a call.

Sam watched as her partner held the phone up to his ear. After a bit, he spoke, “Inspector Youngman, please.” Then, apparently more time on hold before he continued, “Walt, this is Ranger Bass, how are you, sir?”

The lady ranger almost snorted a nose full of tea when Zach, listening to the droning response, rolled his eyes skyward and then stuck a finger-pistol to his head in a mock suicide.

“Sorry to hear that, Walt,” Zach finally managed after nearly two minutes. “Hey, let me ask you a question. How long do you have before retiring? About two more years?”

Again, Inspector Youngman seemed to drone on and on. Zach was careful not to ask any more questions when the man finally took a breath.

“Say, I have to ask a favor for an ongoing investigation,” Zach inserted. “I need to get inside one of your local restaurants and pretend I’m doing a health inspection.”

Sam’s eyes got big when her partner dropped that bomb. “Oh, you are a shit,” she whispered. “And a damn creative one at that.”

Another 10 minutes passed before Zach finalized arrangements with Mr. Walt Youngman. “He’s going to call Titus and schedule the inspection in an hour. He said he’s only been in the place once since issuing their permit last year. He found two issues with the fire suppression system, and the owners followed up less than 30 days later.”

“That was very, very clever, Zach. I’m going to put that one in my repertoire of dirty cop tricks.”

Zach waggled his eyebrows. “There’s hardly a business that operates in any city that doesn’t get visited by some sort of government employee at one point in time or another. A few years back, Walt was inside a new burger joint and saw some suspicious looking contents in the freezer. He called DPS, and I went with a couple of state troopers and checked it out. Sure enough, there were about 400 pounds of frozen weed mixed in with the hamburger patties and bags of French fries. I wrote the mayor a nice letter of appreciation from the rangers and gave Inspector Youngman credit for the felony bust. It pays to spread the joy.”

“I bet he has it framed in his office,” Sam grinned, reaching for the metal case at her feet. “Since you’re going inside the restaurant, it would be good if you deposited a couple of our little helpers.”

The lady ranger extracted what appeared to be two common ink pens. “These both contain a camera and microphone. They’re the new models that use high-frequency burst transmissions … just in case the bad guys are using electronic counter-measures. They have 120-degree views and directional microphones. The battery only lasts about two hours, but I can start them remotely once Chey is inside.”

Zach took the devices and nodded. “I’ll see if I can set these up in the right places. Anything else?”

“Not for the inside. I’m going to put two GPS locators and a microphone on Chey’s person,” she continued. “I will set up video recording on the restaurant’s doors once we figure out where all of the exits are located. Other than that, it’s typical cop stuff – mainly our eyes and ears.”

The two officers continued discussing the surveillance package and the dozens of other details associated with the op. The fact that it was an untrained civilian meeting with the suspects made every little item far more complex.

After a time, Zach glanced at his watch and announced, “It’s time to go meet with Walt. Ready?”

Inspector Youngman wasn’t what Sam expected.

Anticipating a frumpy, older, slight-statue of a man with thick bifocals, she was surprised when Zach approached a middle-aged, slender fellow who was nicely dressed and quite good-looking. “So much for stereotypes,” she whispered.

Not only was the city employee’s appearance unexpected, so was his level of preparation. After introductions, he handed Zach a leather fold-over with a gold-colored badge inside. “Put your state ID card in the window, and no one will notice the difference.”

Next, Walt produced a clipboard, complete with the city’s insignia and several official-looking forms. “Try and take a few notes while we’re inside,” he advised.

The lady ranger watched from afar as the two approached Titus’s front door and knocked with authority.

A distinguished looking Latino man answered, only taking a casual glance at both visitors’ credentials. Youngman did all the talking. “We’re here on a routine inspection for the city of San Antonio,” he began. “We’d like to begin with the dining area.”

Introducing himself as the maître d’, the restaurant employee escorted his visitors to a small enclave that contained only one table. The theme and décor were obviously intended to remind diners of a hunting lodge. Expensive-looking art graced the wall, a fancy wine rack was located in one corner, and a large fireplace anchored one end. “There are five individual dining rooms,” the fellow informed Zach and Walt. “What is it you wish to see?”

“Everything,” Walt answered.

Zach knew instantly that he was in trouble. He only brought two cameras to plant. That would leave three seating areas unobserved. Those weren’t good odds.

Again, Walt took the lead, surprising both Zach and the waiter by pulling out a chair and climbing to inspect a ceiling duct. It took one swipe of the inspector’s finger to let their host knew he meant business.

Youngman stepped down from his elevated perch with a scowl creasing his face. He held up the nearly black finger to show the filth removed from the vent’s grill. “This is right above the table, sir. I don’t know about you, but I surely don’t want such grime falling into my meal.”

The maître d’ was shocked, instantly stamping to the threshold and shouting harsh, Spanish instructions toward the rear of the establishment. Two younger men darted out, and in a matter of seconds, they removed and cleaned the offensive vent.

Walt ignored the efforts, his attention now focused on the dinnerware and place settings. Pulling a small device that resembled a flashlight from his jacket pocket, the inspector lifted a clear glass from the table and then flicked on a brilliant, blue-colored beam of light.

“I’m checking for detergent residue,” the inspector informed the hovering, anxious waiter.

Zach casually backed out of the door and stepped quickly to the front reception area. There, residing on a small podium, was the restaurant’s reservation book. “Maybe … just maybe,” he whispered, reaching for the thick, leather-bound volume.

Scanning the pages, Zach found today’s date. There was only one reservation for 5 PM. The name wasn’t legible. The assigned dining room was. Chey would be meeting the mystery man in room #3.

Quickly closing the binder, Zach returned to find Walt inspecting the fireplace for some unknown code violation. The maître d’ was sweating profusely.

Lifting his city-issued clipboard, Zach asked the waiter, “For our report, which dining room is this?”

“Number 5,” the nervous fellow stammered.

“Thank you.”

It took 20 minutes before the undercover duo managed to progress to what Zach assumed was the room where Chey would meet her dinner date.

Zach grunted when he entered #3, the ambiance obviously designed to mimic an Italian Bistro. Partially exposed bricks and raw plaster dominated one wall, the opposite sporting a well-done Renaissance mural. Like all of the previous enclaves, there was a small fireplace in the corner, the face and mantel adorned with an intricate tile mosaic. Chey would love it.

While Walt went through his routine, Zach was scanning for someplace to hide the cameras. The answer presented itself in short order.

Without the presence of natural light, the interior designers had little choice but to use silk ivy to accent the wall with exposed brick. The high-quality fake foliage was extremely thick and sturdy, covering a large section of the vertical surface.

While he was sure everyone’s attention was focused on Walt’s persistent search for code violations, Zach removed one of the cameras from his jacket, pretending to check the artificial vines for dirt or other nasties. A few moments later, the pen-camera was securely resting in the dense greenery.

It took a few cautious moves to properly align the barely-protruding lenses and make sure the device was aimed at the table. The ranger was confident no one had noticed.

He found a suitable hide for the backup device as Walt was turning over the plush chairs and examining the bottoms.
What the hell is he looking for
, Zach wondered as he strolled around the room.
Bubblegum?

Above Zach’s head was a bookshelf, complete with several expensive-looking, leather-bound titles. The backup camera was soon peeking out between two of the volumes.

The inspection continued for another 50 minutes, most of the remaining time spent in the kitchen. The food preparation area was where the ranger found the most important information of the entire expedition – the fire exit.

Pretending to examine the emergency release bar, Zach pushed opened the door and stepped outside into the alley. He quickly counted doors and got his bearings. They would have to make sure this exit was covered.

Walt informed their host that the establishment would be receiving his report via certified mail within 10 days. Since no significant violations were discovered, the restaurant would have 30 days to address any citations.

The duo left, walking briskly to Youngman’s city-issued automobile and driving away. After thanking the inspector for a job well done, Zach shook his hand and climbed out at the next light. “I’ll let you know if we find anything interesting,” the ranger promised.

Returning to the rendezvous point, Zach found Sam sitting under a multi-colored umbrella, sipping on a glass of what appeared to be lemonade. Next to the lady ranger was a smiling BB and a steaming cup of coffee.

“Look who found me,” Sam smiled as her partner approached.

“That didn’t take much tracking skill at all,” the old ranger grinned. “Hard to miss such a beautiful woman, especially one who’s wearing a gun.”

Detective Gus Monroe arrived a few hours later, the drive from El Paso encompassing several hundred miles of cross-republic travel. He was exactly what Zach had expected.

As introductions were made, Zach studied the one unknown member of his team.

Gus was in his mid-50s with a high-and-tight buzz cut of gray hair and the eyes of a man who had seen it all and was surprised by none of it. Zach judged the officer to be in pretty good physical condition and able to hold his own in a scuffle.

After everyone had settled down and played the “do you know so-and-so,” game, Sam cleared her throat and got down to business.

Flipping her notebook computer around so everyone could see, she began by showing the satellite view of the restaurant and surrounding cityscape.

“There are only two ways in or out,” Zach chimed in, pointing to where the two entrances were located on the overhead view. “Sam and I will pretend to be a couple enjoying the River Walk and cover the front. BB, you figure out a way to cover the fire exit and the alley. Gus, you’re our quick reaction force. I want you sitting in your car on the street, ready to move to either door if there’s a problem.”

“Have you contacted San Antonio PD and let them know there is a surveillance op going on in their backyard?” Gus asked.