Perilous (17 page)

I shook the guy’s hand.

“Wakkman, do you want to grab these two’s information?” He nodded at the snowmobile riders.

“Yeah, I got it.”

“It looks like you guys got the car under control for the most part,” Ken said. “I’ll have the guys give her a couple squirts to keep it from restarting. Do we know how it started?”

“No,” Sommer said. “It may have been involved in a shooting, though.”

“Shooting, huh? I caught some chatter over the radio about it. So it’s safe to assume we are looking at arson here?”

“Yeah. Think there’s any chance of evidence left behind?” Sommer asked.

“Fires usually knock out most of it, but it looks like you guys got it out before it was completely well done. The trunk looks okay yet. I’ll have my guys pop it open. Maybe we have something inside.” Ken left, to instruct his men.

“Is that the car you saw leaving my father’s place?” I asked.

Sommer looked at it. One of the volunteer firemen was spraying the last remaining hot spots down with a handheld fire extinguisher. The other was prying at the trunk with a clawed wrecking bar. “Good chance that’s it. The taillights look to be the same shape. Plus, a dark sedan found being torched shortly after? Pretty safe assumption. Is it the same make and model from when you took gunfire further south?” he asked.

“Yup.”

“It looks like this is our car, then.”

“Shit!” the fireman yelled. “There are bodies in here!”

My eyes shot over to him at the trunk of the car. The lid hung open in the air. My stomach dropped.

Sommer put his hand against my chest. “Wait here.”

I swatted his hand away and walked fast toward the trunk. Then I picked up a jog. Sommer ran up behind me and tried grabbing me by the shoulder. He was too late. I was five feet from the trunk, and he had no chance of holding me back. I stared inside. Two half-burned bodies lay bunched together. I closed my eyes, took in a deep breath, and rocked my head back. I could see the camouflage that wasn’t burned. The two bodies wore partially burnt ski masks over their faces.

Sommer joined me at my side and looked in. He put his hand on my shoulder.

“It’s the two who I shot this morning at my sister’s house. The bodies were taken from the scene.”

“I’ll make the call over to Purwin, from our crime lab. He’s going to be in for a late night.”

Yury stood at the front window of the single-wide trailer. The location was a few miles off the main street. He stared out through the woods toward the gravel road that led off the property. He’d scouted the place out in the daylight. No one occupied the trailer, and that seemed to have been the case for a while. Snow had drifted over the driveway. All the curtains had been pulled shut, faded by the sun. Inside, the refrigerator and cupboards were empty. The electricity and water were off. There wasn’t another house for miles. In his hours spent at the trailer earlier in the day, shoveling and getting the electricity on, he hadn’t seen one car pass.

Yury’s Mercedes was parked out front in the driveway. His cell phone lit up and buzzed in his hand.

He answered, “Hello?”

“What’s the situation?” a man’s voice asked.

“I’m waiting for them to arrive. It should be any minute. I’ll tie up these couple loose ends and then proceed with the new plan,” Yury said.

“The first part is set?”

“Yes.”

The man coughed on the other end of the phone. “Unseen?” he asked.

“Yes,” Yury said.

“Do you have everything you need?”

“Erik brought me everything I asked for when he dropped off the guns for this so-called team.”

“Good.” The man took in a long breath and let it out. His words came out strained. “We should have handled this ourselves from the beginning. Viktor should have never hired this bunch of amateurs and blown a perfectly good opportunity. Now we have to clean up their mess.”

“It will be done soon,” Yury said.

“Still, it pisses me off.”

Yury was unsure how to respond. He didn’t want to appear if he was taking sides between the two people running the organization. “Um, have you spoken to Viktor?” Yury asked. “He said he was going to call me, but I haven’t heard from him.”

“No. I tried getting a message through to him, but he hasn’t responded. There’s nothing that we can do. He’s inside, and we’re not. He has to control what he can control in there, and we need to do the same out here. Right now, I’m out here, and I’m in control. The only thing that matters is that asshole and the little bitch die. Get rid of the bitch and get out of there. We’ll deal with the pig back here in Tampa.”

“I got it.”

The man coughed again.

“How are you feeling?” Yury asked.

“Strong.”

“Good.”

“Yury, you taking care of this will go a long way.”

Yury smiled. “Glad you’re doing better. I’ll get this done for you.” Headlights shone up the gravel road. “I have headlights coming. It’s probably them. I have to go. We’ll talk soon.” Yury hung up.

The headlights from the vehicle grew brighter. Yury saw the car slow and pull into the driveway. Yury opened the front door and waved the car forward to park.

The car stopped alongside his Mercedes at the front of the trailer, the motor running. A Hispanic man wearing a camouflage coat and black pants stepped out of the driver’s side.

Yury said nothing and waved the man inside.

The guy entered. Yury closed the door at his back.

“What’s your name?” Yury asked.

“Rodrigo.”

“Okay. I’m Yury. What is the situation here?”

“I have the parents in the trunk. Carlos… I mean Ramon, is shot. He’s losing a lot of blood. We need to get him some help.”

“Okay. I have a friend coming to take care of that. Do you think he can make it another half hour or so?”

“It might be close.”

“Well, he’s going to have to. We need to get a couple things taken care of in the meantime. I need you to transfer all the weapons from your car into the trunk of the Mercedes out front.”

“For?” Rodrigo asked.

“You and I are going to be leaving with Ramon right after he gets patched up. The rental you are driving is going to get torched. We’re done here.”

“What do you mean we’re done? Are we leaving without finishing?”

“No. We have another plan in motion. I’m going to need your help with it, though. Do good, and there will be a bonus in it for you.”

“Okay.”

“All right. Get everything from that car transferred over—the cell-phone jammer too. You still have it right?”

“Yeah, it’s in there.”

Yury dug his keys from his pocket and thumbed the button to pop the trunk on the Mercedes outside.

“What about the parents?”

“They are fine where they’re at for now. We’ll deal with them last.”

Rodrigo walked outside to transfer the contents of the car.

Yury blew on his cupped hands as he watched from inside.

Rodrigo moved the inventory from one car to the other and then walked back inside. “What’s with the snow camouflage in the trunk?” he asked.

“Just something I needed earlier,” Yury said. Where are all the cell phones you guys have been using?”

“I have mine and Ramon’s. I would assume Alexander’s and Alejandro’s are burned. Daniel’s we don’t have. I think he was shot. He stopped responding and never made it off the cop’s parents’ property with us.”

“Okay. Give the two you have to me. We’re not using these anymore.”

Rodrigo handed over the phones.

“Get Ramon inside. Take him to the bedroom and lay him on the bed.”

“Um, do you want to give me a hand?”

“No.” Yury said. “Employer and employee. We in upper management don’t like to get our hands dirty if we don’t have to.” Yury pointed out the front door. “Hurry up.”

Rodrigo walked from the front.

Yury pulled the batteries from those two phones as well as the one he had been using to communicate with them. He slipped the batteries into his pocket, wiped his prints from the phones, and tossed them onto an old plaid couch next to the window. Then he walked back to the doorway and watched Rodrigo struggle to remove Ramon from the car.

Rodrigo took Ramon in his arms and carried him toward the front door.

“The bedroom is all the way at the back,” Yury said.

Rodrigo walked the small hallway and lay Ramon on the twin-size bed at the back of the room.

Yury followed them in. He took a seat at the edge of the bed and checked on Ramon. Ramon’s pulse was weak. He was unconscious. Yury figured he would be dead within minutes.

“How is he?” Rodrigo asked.

“He still has a real strong pulse. I think he’ll make it. What’s your relationship with him? He’s not family, is he?”

“No.” Rodrigo shook his head. “We met inside. He got out and started doing work for the Diablos.”

“The Hispanic prison gang?” Yury asked.

Rodrigo nodded. “He contacted a couple of us guys that were inside with him and said he had some opportunities for us.”

“Contract hits?” Yury asked.

Rodrigo nodded. “This was my second. The first was pretty easy money—nothing like this, though.”

“I guess it comes with the job. Hey, we need to get this blood under control. Go grab a couple of towels from the bathroom.”

“Sure,” Rodrigo said. He turned to leave the room.

Yury’s hand went to his waistline in a flash. He yanked his pistol and brought the sights to the back of Rodrigo’s head. Rodrigo had barely taken two steps when Yury squeezed the trigger.

Red spray and matter peppered the wood-paneled wall of the bedroom. Rodrigo’s body collapsed to the shag-carpeted floor. He was dead before he hit.

“And that’s what you get for being useless,” Yury said.

Yury wiped his prints from the gun and turned. He took Ramon’s right hand and wrapped it around the grip. Ramon, still unconscious, did nothing. Yury pressed Ramon’s index finger against the trigger, pointed toward the bloody wall, and squeezed, firing the gun. Any forensic investigation would show gunpowder residue on Ramon’s hand.

Yury patted Ramon’s chest. Ramon didn’t respond.

“Doesn’t look like you need any help dying, buddy,” Yury said.

Yury walked to the kitchen. He pulled his hand back into his sleeve and pushed the earpiece of the landline off its receiver. With his knuckle through his sleeve, he dialed 9-1-1.

Yury walked out front, got in his Mercedes, and pulled out.

The deputies got names and statements from the two snowmobile riders and kicked them loose. The bodies were taken from the trunk, their masks removed, and laid out in the snow. I stared down at them.

“Recognize either of these two?” Sommer asked.

I shook my head.

Sommer pointed at the pair of bodies. “Do you want to get in there and see if they have anything on them?”

“No. If they do, it’s melted. It’s probably best to leave it for your crime-lab guys. Are they on their way?” I asked.

“It’s just Purwin tonight. I’ll get him out here in a bit. He went back to the station with the first set of prints to run and send off.”

“Okay, let’s run those plates and see what we come up with.”

Sommer called the number off over his radio. Dispatch called it back no more than thirty seconds later. The car had come from Super Rental. I searched them on my phone and found at least ten locations just in the Milwaukee area—the number of locations ballooned as soon as I expanded the map. I dialed the corporate office, thinking they would be able to get me a location if I provided the plate number. The recording told me they were closed. I went with my gut and dialed the office at the Milwaukee airport.

“Milwaukee Airport Super Rental, how can I help you this evening?” a man asked.

“Hello, I’m Lieutenant Carl Kane. We have one of your vehicles that’s been set on fire. I have the plate number here. I’m trying to find where it came from and who the vehicle was rented to.”

“Set on fire?” he asked.

“Correct.”

“Um, hold on.”

I waited.

“This is Tom Keele, manager here at Super Rental, who is this?”

“My name is Lieutenant Carl Kane. I’m here working with the Oconto County Sheriff’s Department. We have one of your vehicles.”

“And this vehicle was set on fire?” he asked.

“Yes. We need to see where it came from and who rented it. I have a plate number.”

“Well, I can only pull it up if it came from this location. What’s the plate number?”

I gave it to him.

“Give me one second,” he said.

The sound of him plugging away at his computer came through the phone.

“Yeah, it’s one of ours, unfortunately—2014 Chevy Malibu. It was rented to a Carlos Cruz, along with another vehicle—same make and model.”

“Do you guys have GPS tracking on these vehicles?”

“No we don’t, sorry.”

“What about surveillance video from the time they were rented?”

“Well, we do inside the office, but these vehicles were rented using one of our quick kiosks.”

“What’s that?”

“We have them outside for after-hours rentals. Some people just use them to avoid the line if we have one. You just insert your driver’s license and major credit card. It’s all automated.”

“There is no video there?”

“Well, it’s a face-to-face video feed. I’m not sure if it’s actually recorded, though. You’d have to check with our corporate office.”

“That’s fine. Do you have the plate number for the other vehicle?”

“Sure.”

“Give me one second.” I borrowed Sommer’s notepad and pen to get all the information jotted down. “Ready.”

The manager gave me the plate number and the information for the Mr. Cruz who rented the cars. I wrote all the information in Sommer’s notepad. I thanked the guy at the rental office and hung up.

“The guy has a Florida address,” I said.

“So they followed you up here?”

“Looks like it. Can we get a sheet on this guy?” I asked, handing back his notepad.

Sommer handed the notepad to Wakkman. “Go run this guy and see what you get.”

Wakkman took the information and headed for his car.