Loose Ends (6 page)

“Give it a break, Bill.” He wiggled the flask under my hand but I clamped down firmly and held his eyes. “You’ve had enough for now, Lieutenant. I need you upright and operating.”

Slowly his hand relaxed under mine, his eyes clearing as he capped the container and slid it into a breast pocket. “Okay. I’m good.”

Another hour of silence passed, broken only by the occasional exchange of remarks, before Bill said, “I’m gonna take a walk. Drain the monster.”

“Right.” That was one concrete advantage men had over women – the ability to pee standing up. Must be nice. Me, between rallying, stakeouts and marathon poker sessions I’d developed the bladder of a camel so I just held it.

“Give me the flask first.”

“I’m not that far gone.”

“Flask,” I said in a voice of stone.

Bill raised an eyebrow, but took out the container and handed it to me before he exited and walked around the corner, probably heading for a small park half a block back. As long as he picked a good shadowed tree he’d be all right. I thought about pouring his liquor onto the street but that seemed rude, an insult tantamount to throwing poker chips in the trash.

Just then the first large vehicle in a while rounded the opposite corner, its lights illuminating the street. I slouched down as low as I could while keeping an eye on it. We’d figured they’d bring some kind of truck for the cargo capacity. With an inside job and no need for smash-and-grab hurry, the more they carried away, the bigger their take.

The vehicle turned out to be a white heavy-duty panel van, an extended model perfect for a heist like this. It didn’t turn in to the warehouse drive, though. Rather, it cruised slowly down the block. I ducked, squeezing my small frame sideways under the steering wheel and lowered my head to cover the lighter skin of my face, my black hair forming a concealing canopy.

I realized they were checking the parked cars as a spotlight washed over Molly. Lucky Bill had left the vehicle. He’d never have been able to hide from a good once-over sitting inside. As long as the perps didn’t get out to look closer I should be all right.

The van passed by, engine revs increasing as it turned the corner and accelerated away. I rose carefully and waited until it showed up again at the other end of the street, having circled the block. Hopefully Bill had stayed well out of sight and wouldn’t blow the stakeout.

This time the van turned crisply into the warehouse drive, and then a hand reached out the driver’s window to buzz at the gate. The metal barrier immediately rolled out of the way, Lattimer’s doing for sure. The vehicle surged in, turning off its lights and parking quickly by the steel personnel door to the windowless building.

A woman got out of the passenger side. At this distance, forty yards or so, I couldn’t make out much except she was about Mira’s height and build, with dark hair. She opened a box on the wall and picked up a handset.

Molly’s passenger door opened quietly and Bill slid into the car, shutting it quickly and silently like a pro. At least the vodka hadn’t impaired his technique. Probably he was already starting to sober up.

“They’re early,” he said.

“Guess I still need to work on my Sherlock routine.”

“You were pretty close. Fifteen minutes.”

I grunted and turned back to look at our prey across the street near the warehouse. The woman talked for a minute on the handset, and then hung it up. After another moment, probably to input the code and apply the fake fingerprint to the scanner, she set her feet, leaned hard and pulled open the warehouse’s personnel door. It must be quite heavy to take that kind of manhandling.

While she was doing this the driver, a heavyset white man in a dark jacket and knit cap, hopped out and folded the side mirrors flat. After getting in again he backed the van up and did a quick one-eighty as the woman opened the cargo loading door. In reverse, the vehicle rolled completely inside, barely clearing the edges. The steel curtain slammed down, leaving no trace of its presence.

“I see why they didn’t get a bigger truck,” Bill said.

“Yeah. Perfect size.”

“Wish we could call this in.”

I glanced sideways at him. “The
girl
, Bill. I don’t give a shit if they get away with millions in pills as long as we get Talia back.”

“I know. Still…”

“You want one more shot at glory, Bill? Proof that you can still cut it?” I felt like slapping him, but stopped myself, letting my voice do the work. “The only way that’s gonna happen is if we find that little girl. Once she’s safe, you can take all the credit you want. Get your name in the papers. Be a hero. ‘Former Chicago Cop Saves Kidnapped Child in Drug Heist Bust.’ You can have the publicity. I don’t want it.”

Bill eyed me skeptically. “You for real? Something like this could get you reinstated.”

I shook my head, turning to stare at the warehouse to cover the stab of pain I felt. “That ship has sailed. The Thin Blue Line never forgets. I might be able to work at some other department, but not here in the Bay Area. Probably not even in this state. The City is my home. I’m not leaving it.”

“God, you’re beautiful,” Bill blurted.

“And you’re still drunk, so how’s about we call it even,” I returned in a flat tone. Funny what attracts men and what comes out of their mouths at the oddest times.

Or maybe, not so odd at all. I’d just made a declaration of loyalty in front of a guy who’d been ditched by his wife and discarded by his profession. No matter how justifiable, those things left deep scars, especially on a cop. With the good ones like Bill and me, honor and integrity wrapped our core, stiffened our spines. Without it, we felt – I felt – brittle. Hollowed out.

“I saw something,” Bill said suddenly.

Our thieves hadn’t left the warehouse, so I glanced around. “What?”

Bill stuck his thumb over his shoulder. “Back behind us, around the block. When I went to piss. Guy in a late-model green Audi sedan, just sitting.”

I craned my head to look, but Bill shook his head. “Naw, he left when I made him. Probably completely unrelated.”

“What’d he look like?”

“Young. Late twenties? Light skin, maybe blonde. Average height and build. Hard to say more.”

I shook my head. “You should have told me that first.”

“It didn’t matter. Like I said, he hung a U and sped off.”

“He could have come back. Could be watching now.” I craned my head around, not trying to hide my surveillance anymore. As Audis were common rally platforms, I felt fairly confident I could spot one even half-seen in the dark.

Nope. Nada.

Bill cleared his throat and tugged his collar. “You think these guys are pro enough to have brought a cover driver?”

“If it was me I would. One lone jockey can knock a tail off or decoy pursuit if he’s good, and then bug out any number of ways – on foot, swapping cars, even a boat or helo. Anything to get the goods away.”

A grunt came from Bill, wordless agreement.

I pointed. The warehouse cargo door showed a dim crack beneath it before rolling up suddenly, quickly. The van pulled forward and the driver leaped out to slap a button, causing the big portal to close before he climbed back in and drove to the gate. I could see the plates had mud smeared on them obscuring the numbers, a common trick.

“Does your security center open the barrier or is it automatic?” I asked.

“It’s automatic unless we disable it or the alarm trips.”

I reached for the ignition to start Molly, leaving all lights off. “Better buckle up, then. This might get interesting.” I pulled my four-point harness down and snapped in.

“Uh…”

“What?”

“I get carsick.”

“This isn’t a high-speed pursuit. If they make us, we have to drop off anyway.”

“Then why the seatbelts?”

“Same reason you got a safety on your weapon. Unexpected shit happens.”

Bill stared at me for a moment, and then reached for the harness. Once buckled, he opened his hand. “Flask.”

“Like hell,” I retorted, not feeling charitable right then.

Bill dropped his hand, defeated.

I hoped I wouldn’t regret this night, trying to help a fellow ex-cop get over his fears and back into the field. Maybe I should have come alone. I put the doubts out of my mind as the van exited the warehouse drive to steer left and away, cruising back the way it had come from.

Easing Molly out, I let the van get a block ahead, then two before I turned on my lights. Checking my rearview mirror, I didn’t see any tails. No Audi, green or otherwise. We followed as the thieves picked up the state highway across the top of San Pablo Bay toward Vallejo.

“Where you wanna bet they go?” Bill asked.

“South,” I said. “Napa’s too refined. Hard to hide. The 80 corridor is a possibility, but their options that way get more and more limited the farther they go until they hit Sacramento at least. South, though, and you got nothing but suburban sprawl for miles. Lots of places to hole up.”

“You don’t think they’ll drive the haul out right now? Head for a big city to fence the stuff – Vegas, L.A., Seattle? Leave the girl somewhere, phone the mother for a pickup? That’s what I’d do.”

I chewed my lip. “They gotta know the theft will be found out in the morning, maybe even tonight during the next shift if your guys are diligent in checking the logs and get suspicious. Everything is on video even if the plates were obscured. At the very least they’ll have to transfer the cargo to a new vehicle and it’s logical the girl will be there with a third member of the crew.”

“It could get dicey if we find their hide. What if they decide to tie up their loose end?”

“They won’t. Murder takes the story from two forgotten column inches and a mention on the local news straight to the front page of the
Chronicle
and nationwide TV coverage. In fact, if that happens, I know an investigative reporter that will run these sons of bitches to ground before law enforcement does, if I don’t first.”

“You’re assuming rational self-interest, but what about the two-day delay?”

“Could be one of many reasons. Like, the first two trucks they stole both broke down. Or the driver tripped, hit his head and had to sleep off a concussion. Or they scored some uncut smack and put themselves out for a day and a half. Maybe they ate some bad burritos and spent a sleepless night on the crappers. With lowlifes it could be anything.”

“What if they aren’t making the decisions? A heist this big…they deliver the cargo, their employer pops them and the kid too, just in case. Five gallons of gasoline and,
poof
, there goes the evidence.”

I glanced over at him as the shifting lights washed his face. “Is doom and gloom your default mode, Bill?”

“For a while, yeah.” He sighed. “I ain’t a big believer in everything working out.”

“Let’s stay positive and do the job, all right?” I focused back on our perps as we approached the I-80 on-ramps. “South, baby, come on…”

The van turned onto the southbound freeway entrance and I kept an eye on it as we followed.

“Shit, he’s rabbiting,” Bill said.

I swore. He’d seen it before I had, that the heavily laden van was accelerating far faster than it needed to. “They must have spotted us, gotten suspicious,” I said as I downshifted and accelerated, thumbing the button to kick in the supercharger.

Molly leaped forward as the blower screamed like a fighter jet. I loved that sound, and I loved the kick in the ass even more as I took the sweeping turn onto the on-ramp at the optimal line, still accelerating north of seventy.

“Cal, back off! Cal!”

“What?” I snapped, letting the revs climb toward redline as we approached the merge.

“You’re confirming their suspicion that they’re being tailed. You’re gonna get the girl killed! You told me yourself this isn’t about busting them.”

“Crap. You’re right.” I took my foot off the gas and dropped back to the speed limit, watching the van pull rapidly away. My body shuddered with the excess speed in my veins, the natural stuff, better than anything from a needle or a pill.

“They might not even have seen us. Could be they just wanted to shake the bushes and see what they scared out.”

I slapped Bill’s thigh with the back of my right hand. “Good call.”

Bill put his head back against the rest with a faint smile. “Thanks. But what now?”

“I’ll speed up gradually, try to hang on to them.” I thought I still had their lights in sight about a mile ahead.

“Good luck. Hope your eyes are better than mine.”

“My eyesight’s very good, thanks.” That was one reason I didn’t let the bomb damage bother me too much. It could have been so much worse. “Looks like they’re heading east on the feeder.”

If I had the correct set of taillights they’d soon dump onto the freeway heading north or south. I strove to keep them in sight by accelerating, weaving among the cars in light traffic at about eighty. Given that the van had no rear window, I hoped that we would be impossible to pick out in the darkness from this distance.

When our quarry approached the freeway interchange I lost them. There was too much town and landscaping in the way, or maybe they turned off their lights. I floored it and Molly rocketed smoothly up to one-ten for half a mile, but by the time we reached the interchange I couldn’t locate anything that looked like them.

“South,” I muttered, sticking with my earlier guess, and held steady at ninety around the smooth curve of the feeder and onto the Benicia-Martinez bridge. Bright lights from an oil tanker sparkled in my peripheral vision as we passed Army Point and the pipeline terminus before hurtling across toward the multiple refineries on the south shore that fueled the California economic machine.

Two minutes and three miles later I admitted defeat. They’d had several exits to escape and we’d lost them. I slammed my palm on Molly’s wheel. “Dammit.”

“Dammit,” Bill echoed flatly. “Sorry, Cal.”

“Any ideas?” I dropped back into the right lane and cruised under the speed limit, still heading south.

“If I was still on the job or if I had ears on the street around here I’d try to find some word of the heist. Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’re going to offload some of it locally for quick cash. If so, the big fish clue in the little fish, who tell the minnows, who tip off the plankton.”