Devil's Brigade (Trackdown Book 3) Page 4
The Buddha’s mouth twitched and pulled into a puckered frown. He said nothing.
“What do you mean?” the lawyer asked.
“Simple,” Soraces said. “Think of this whole thing in terms of a transaction. This guy Wolf’s got something he knows you want so what does he want? What’s his price?”
“His price?” Fallotti said.
“Yeah,” Soraces said. “Everybody’s got one.”
For several seconds neither man spoke then the Buddha looked at the lawyer. “You know, that is a good point. We’ve never tried to buy him off.”
Fallotti’s lips tightened. “I don’t know. At this point, that may be problematic. He was set up and sent to prison, lost all his military rank and benefits, and he’s got to know that we’ve tried to kill him at least twice.”
“So we just sweeten the pie a bit more.” Von Dien smiled. “As Mr. Soraces said, everybody has their price.”
“It might also let him in on just how valuable the artifact is,” Fallotti said.
“Which he might already know, at this point.” Von Dien’s face twisted into a scowl. “This entire operation has been one failure after another. I hired you to oversee things, Mr. Fallotti, and you seem to have failed miserably. I like Mr. Soraces’s suggestion.”
The lawyer’s face reddened and he said nothing.
This is my cue to take charge, Soraces thought. To put myself in the numero uno position.
“If I may,” he said affecting a tone of sincere deference that he’d used on the other side of the globe when talking to warlords, foreign dictators, and king-of-the-hill thugs. “Why not let me go out there and do some ground work investigation. I’ll get a feel for Wolf and what he’s after. See what his game is. Then I’ll figure out a way to get what we want.”
“So you propose to approach the man outright?” Fallotti asked.
Soraces shrugged. “Why not? If it seems efficacious.”
“And exactly what makes you think he’ll talk to you?”
“Among my other qualifications,” Soraces said, “I am a member in good standing of the Maryland Bar. It’ll be a simply matter of setting myself up in a local law firm out there and approaching him as a lawyer representing an interested party, who wishes to remain anonymous.”
“Do you really think he’s going to be open to a negotiation after all he’s been through?” Fallotti asked.
Soraces flashed a confident, lips-only smile. “Like I said, that depends. But it’s one tactic we should consider. From what I’ve gathered, he doesn’t have all the facts, only piecemeal stuff, correct?”
“As far as we know.”
“Good.” Soraces nodded. “Then there’s a distinct possibility we can spoon feed him a story that the other groups were hired as independent contractors to obtain the statue, and all of the resulting unpleasantness, the prison set-up, the attempts on his life, were their work, not ours. We could tell him we didn’t know about them nor would we have approved of it and we’re willing to offer some generous compensation.”
Von Dien sat in silence, his tongue darting out to moisten his pendulous lips.
The Buddha’s buying it, Soraces thought. Money means nothing to him.
But then the rich bastard shook his head.
“Even if he can be bought,” he said, “this leaves me too wide open for an investigation. The authorities already are nosing around. I can’t have any loose ends that lead back to me.”
Soraces let his expression appear totally neutral. “Nor will it. We buy him off and get the item. From what I gather, this guy came from dirt, so he’ll jump at the chance to get a suitcase full of money. And once he’s delivered the item, we can always kill him then.”
And I’ll take possession of the suitcase full of cash, he thought.
The fat Buddha’s eyebrows rose in unison. “Mr. Soraces, I like the way you think.”
“All right then,” Fallotti said. “When can you start?”
This time Soraces let the hint of a modest smile grace his lips.
“Just let me assemble some of my old wet-work team and I can begin immediately.”
Phoenix, Arizona
The office building of the late Rodney F. Shemp
Attorney at Law
It was a five-story office building down the street from one of the courthouses. The name Rodney F. Shemp was still on the legend even though the lawyer was recently deceased. The police had initially treated his death as an accidental fall down the stairs at a hospital until the autopsy revealed severe trauma to the back and sides of his neck. Two of his cervical vertebra had been forcefully broken, which was inconsistent with a tumble down a flight of stairs. It took them less than an hour to connect the dots and locate video identifying one of the South Africans who’d been involved in the home invasion at McNamara’s place. The lawyer’s office was quickly sealed off by yellow crime scene tape as detectives sought a warrant to go through Shemp’s files in what was now a homicide investigation. Luckily, the judge balked at giving the police cart blanche to peruse the files of an attorney, albeit a dead one, especially with the alleged perpetrator also being deceased.
“In view of the circumstances, what’s the rush?” the judge said and announced that he would select another attorney to act in the capacity of a curio amicus, a friend of the court.
This gave Wolf and McNamara the much-needed break they needed to cover their tracks. The file that Shemp most likely had in his office regarding their ill-fated Mexican venture would provide the FBI with all the ammunition they’d needed to mount a case against the two of them for lying to the federal authorities. Thus, the little B and E job became an urgent necessity.
McNamara pulled the truck into a loading zone at the back of the building and then he and Wolf hustled around to the front, pulling the cotton masks up over their faces as they walked. Wolf carried the toolbox and Mac had a clipboard with a bunch of papers clipped to it. Being that it was only nine-fifteen, the building wasn’t officially open yet, but the lobby was still manned by a security guard. The guy sat in a chair by the elevators looking half asleep. He stirred to life as they tapped on the glass door. Slowly, the guard rose from his seat and ambled over to the door which was still locked.
“Building ain’t open yet,” he said. “Not till ten.”
McNamara held up the clipboard. “We got a fix an outlet up on five,” he said. “Keeps blowing the circuit breaker. Bad wiring.”
The guard squinted as he looked through the glass at the paper attached to the clipboard.
“Want to make sure it’s working by opening,” McNamara said, “or the building management will have my ass on a platter. You know how it is, right?”
The guard’s head bobbled up and down with agreement, the unwritten code of one working man to another, both united to keep their asses out of the management lawnmower. He flipped open the lock and allowed them entry, staring at the masks they both wore.
“What’s with them things?” he asked.
“Regulations,” McNamara said. “We gotta wear them now because of that virus bullshit.” He punctuated the sentence with a snort.
The guard shook his head.
Both Wolf and McNamara kept their heads canted downward, imposing the extended bills of their ballcaps in what they hoped would be the wide-angel lens of the camera at the far end of the hallway.
“You said five?” the guard asked. “You gotta have a special code to get the elevator to go up there, you know.”
“We got it,” McNamara said figuring that would make their illicit venture sound more authentic. And they did have the code, too. Kasey had given it to them.
“Well, okay, I guess,” the guard said.
Wolf regretted that they hadn’t stopped at the Dunkin’ Donuts to get the guy some goodies.
Maybe next time, he thought and smiled underneath his mask.
They walked to the elevators and they guard stopped.
“Say,” McNamara said. “Can you open up the m
aintenance room down there for us? We gotta check that circuit breaker.”
The guard nodded and shuffled through his ring of keys, selecting one as they walked underneath the camera to the solid metal door at the far end of the hall. After opening it, the guard made a slight hissing sound and wiggled his mouth.
“You guys don’t need nothing else, do ya?” he asked. “I got to hit the john.”
“Don’t let us keep you from something that important,” McNamara said chuckling to show his camaraderie.
The guard chuckled too and hustled down the hallway.
Wolf watched the man go and glanced at his watch.
Zero-nine-twenty. Plenty of time.
Hopefully ...
He silently hoped the late Rodney Shemp had been a good record-keeper.
He glanced back at McNamara who consulted the printed legend, flipped a switch off, and took out the camera surveillance system. He then closed the metal door but not before slapping a square section of duct tape over the latch so it would appear to be closed and locked, but could be pulled open. They went to the elevators and pressed the UP button. The door slid open and they stepped inside. McNamara punched in the code that Kasey had given them and they felt the car rising. The code was the same as the previous times they’d visited the late Mr. Shemp. Wolf had grown fond of the lawyer who’d been engaged to Mac’s daughter. McNamara, however, had held the man in contempt up until the very end and was now feeling a bit of regret for not having treated his daughter’s suitor with more respect.
Wolf felt the pangs of regret as well as or perhaps even more so than Mac. Shemp had worked pro bono on revisiting Wolf’s court martial case trying to clear his name. Although he hadn’t met with very much success, he had given Wolf a lot of free legal advice. And Shemp had also run interference for both Wolf and McNamara when they’d been pulled in for questioning by the FBI regarding the incident in Mexico.
That was the file they needed to find.
The elevator doors opened and Wolf saw the yellow crime scene tape forming a big X across the doorway to Shemp’s office. An official-looking notice proclaiming CRIME SCENE. NO ENTRY was affixed to the glass door. Both of them had on latex gloves and Wolf opened the toolbox and withdrew a razor-knife.
“You want to do the honors,” he asked, “or should I?”
“Lead on, McDuff,” McNamara said.
Wolf flipped open the knife and carefully sliced the top portion of the three-inch ribbon of tape. I sagged downward and Wolf sliced the bottom portion. McNamara withdrew a set of keys and slid them into the top and bottom locks on the door. Then he twisted the knob and went inside the waiting room.
Wolf recalled the times he’d been there and the pretty secretary with the auburn hair who’d been manning the desk, seated behind a large computer monitor and a telephone.
It sat empty now, and he wondered for a brief second if the girl had found another job. She’d had a very sexy sounding voice. Wolf moved behind the desk and peered underneath it. The computer pedestal was still there. He set the toolbox onto the desk and opened it, removing a screwdriver and a computer hard-drive. Luckily, Kasey had helped her fiancé set up his office and she’d given Wolf and Mac all the info on what type of hard-drive each computer used.
“I’ll check the filing cabinets,” McNamara said as he stepped toward the inner office door. Wolf fitted the small, Phillips screwdriver bit into the electric screwdriver and began a quick disassembly of the secretary’s pedestal.
I guess they aren’t called secretaries anymore, he thought as he removed the screws. Now they’re called administrative, office assistants.
McNamara jingled the keys again and unlocked the door to what had been Shemp’s inner office
Wolf could feel the sweat trickling down his sides as he removed the computer hard-drive and slipped a new one in place. After reassembling the pedestal, he replaced it under the desk and dropped everything into the bottom of the toolbox. He then went to the office where McNamara was going through one of the tall, wooden filing cabinets.
Wolf took a moment to recall the last time they’d been in there. It had only been a little over a week. He and Mac had practically strong-armed poor Rodney into accompanying them to the hospital so they could interrogate the burglar that McNamara had shot during a break-in to the Ranch. It hadn’t been something they wanted to leave totally to the police but it had turned out to be a tragic waste of time and life. Shemp had been murdered in the hospital by one of the South Africans who’d subsequently taken everyone hostage at the Ranch.
At least we avenged him, Wolf thought as he moved behind the dead lawyer’s desk, checked for another computer but found none. This was in accordance with what Kasey had surmised. Shemp had preferred to do his office work on a laptop and a tablet.
“Looks that pretty little gal he had as a secretary was very conscientious about her filing,” McNamara said, standing over the open drawer of the cabinet and withdrawing a file. He flipped open the manila folder and thumbed through it.
“Hell, this has transcripts of your whole court martial in it,” he said.
Wolf wondered if they should leave it. It was already common knowledge to the feds that Shemp had been looking over Wolf’s case. An absent file might create undue suspicion once the newly installed hard-drives were discovered.
“Guess we’ll leave that one here,” McNamara said, obviously on the same page as Wolf.
“Sounds good to me.” Wolf tried the first drawer of the desk but found it locked. Checking the center drawer, he found that secured also. “Let me see those keys.”
McNamara replaced the file in the cabinet and tossed the ring of keys to him.
“We’d best shake a leg,” he said. “I’d like to be out of here sooner rather than later.
Wolf perused the keys and selected a small one that appeared to match the lock in the center drawer. He tried to insert it but it didn’t fit. He tried another. That one didn’t work either.
More sweat began trickling down from his armpits and he checked his watch again.
Zero-nine-forty-eight.
“I got mine,” McNamara said, as he removed another file and pushed the drawer closed.
“I don’t,” Wolf said. “None of these keys fit.”
“Shit, we gotta find that laptop and tablet.” McNamara moved closer to the desk. “We’re cutting too close for comfort. Plus, we got restore that damn circuit. Break the motherfucker.”
“My sentiments exactly.” Wolf removed a large screwdriver from the toolbox and jammed the edge between the drawer and the frame of the desk. He tried wiggling it back and forth to catch the latch and slip it but McNamara placed his hand over Wolf’s and pushed down. The wood made a cracking sound and the drawer popped open.
“We ain’t got the time for subtlety,” he said.
Wolf pulled the top drawer all the way open exposing a neat arrangement of office materials, paperclips, pens, a small calculator, envelopes, and a few other miscellaneous items.
“Looks like poor old Rodney was a little bit Obsessive-Compulsive,” McNamara said.
Wolf said nothing but hoped the lawyer had been just as meticulous in storing his other items in one of the three successive side drawers. He pulled open the first.
It had another divider for pens and paperclips, but it also had an old-fashioned rolodex and another plastic container full of flashdrives.
“Better take that, too,” McNamara said. “No telling what’s on them.”
Wolf placed the container in the toolbox, closed the top drawer and opened the second one.
“Shows what kind of slow-ass burglar you’d make,” McNamara said. “You should’ve started with the bottom one first. That way you wouldn’t waste time closing each one.”
“But we struck paydirt,” Wolf said pulling out a tablet and a red-colored laptop. He set them on the desk and checked his watch.
Zero-nine-fifty-three.
He looked up at Mac who shook his head.
Wolf silently concurred and placed the two computers into the toolbox. He had to rearrange the other items, the two screwdrivers, the roll of duct tape, the purloined hard-drive, the plastic box of flashdrives, and the file that Mac had procured, but eventually managed to get the two metal lids to close around the handle.
They hustled out of the inner office and closed the door behind them.
“You gonna make sure it’s locked?” Wolf said with a grin, even though he knew Mac couldn’t see it because of his facemask.
“Let’s leave that for the curio amicus and the cops to worry about,” McNamara said, shaking the ring of keys and moving toward the main door. He cracked it open and peered through the silver of opening. “Clear. Let’s go.”
He held the door open wider and Wolf slipped under the remaining ribbon of police tape. McNamara followed and took a roll of clear package tape out of his pocket. As he pulled out a small section, Wolf set the toolbox down and held the dangling police tape back in its original position as McNamara affixed the two ends together with the clear tape. They repeated this with the other sliced ribbon and then moved to the elevators. The car was still in place waiting for them and they rode down to the lobby. The security guard was at the main doors now opening the doors. Several people were waiting outside. McNamara went to the maintenance closet, pulled the door open, and removed the swath of duct tape. Then he reached up and flipped the circuit breaker back in place, restoring the camera system.
Wolf followed Mac to the door where they nodded a goodbye to the security guard.
“All set,” McNamara said. “Nobody has to worry about nothing now.”
Wolf chuckled silently at the intentional double negative.
I hope that turns out as intended, he thought.
Police Impound Lot
Phoenix, Arizona
It had taken them less time than Cummins had thought to pick up this guy Riley from the county lock-up once the bail bondsman made the appropriate phone calls and sent his idiot nephew to sign all the paperwork. The police impound lot was another story. It was obviously a contract place run by a private company on the outskirts of town, surrounded by a ten-foot cyclone fence with three strands of barbed wire mounted on cantilevers along the top. The office building was solid brick and everything was transacted through a Plexiglas window just inside the front door. The bored woman on the other side of the wall tapped a few keys on her computer and told them the impound fee was five-hundred dollars.