Takedown (16 page)

Y
ou need a bigger car,” Chris said just loud enough to overcome the wind and the Tiger’s throaty engine.

Gavin shifted into fourth as he glanced to his right. Chris’s knees were touching the glove compartment. Good. “I like it
just fine, thank you.”

“I feel like I’m in a freakin’ go-cart… and without an airbag.”

“We’ve had this conversation before.”

“Did you know you’re almost out of gas?” Chris’s eyes were on the dashboard.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“But you’re on
E
.”

Gavin sighed. “It’s been on
E
for the last four months. Like I said, don’t worry about it.”

Chris giggled like a schoolboy, the way he always did when something didn’t work with the Tiger. “Who’s worried? The best
thing about this car is if we run out of gas, I can push from where I sit without opening the door. Look, I can touch the
road with my fingernails.”

“Then file your nails, stop your whining, and tell me about the soldier guy before I unload my gun into you.”

“Okay, okay. For starters, the soldier guy has a name.”

Gavin’s brow rose. “Really, other than ‘Soldier Guy’?”

“According to the Feds, that pack of Camels you found had the prints of a Walter Hess.”

“Those cigarettes will get you one way or another,” Gavin said, coming to a light, six cars back in a crowded intersection
with multiple arrows for turning traffic.

“Yup, he should have heeded the surgeon general’s warning.”

Nervously, Gavin looked at his watch. The WWX show would start any minute. He thought about putting his police light on the
dashboard, but he knew Chris would remove it. How was it possible that Chris was in the car with him?

“How did you get the Feds to give that information up so fast?”

“I told them you had a lead on a cult he belongs to.”

“So you lied to the FBI?”

“Well, you told me you were going to see that Reverend Buck character and thought he might possibly know about some white
supremacist religious group.”

“So basically… you lied to the FBI.”

“Basically.”

“And I guess the bad news is that we don’t have a clue as to where he is.”

“Correct.”

“What else?”

“Lots. The Feds provided us with a decent profile of this guy.”

“You’re kidding. Are we both talking about the same FBI? This really isn’t like them. Why are they being so generous?” Gavin
beeped his horn the second the light turned green.

“One word: terrorism. They’ve gotten a little shell-shocked over so much blame the last couple of years. They actually
have
regrouped their antiterrorism efforts. We just haven’t seen it until now because we haven’t needed to deal with them lately
on this level.” Chris raised his voice again, leaning toward Gavin to be
heard over the surrounding elements. “Consequently, they’re being more cooperative in the hope others will be more cooperative.”

Gavin nodded, shifted into third, and weaved wherever he could. “How novel. That’s what they’ve been saying all along, but
didn’t believe it before.”

“Personally, I think they’re just finally willing to give up a little of the glory to disperse more potential blame. By the
way, did you ever hear of road rage? Isn’t it weird the way everyone around you seems to always have it?”

“Shut up and tell me about Hess.”

“He’s a local… from Long Island, that is. Out east.”

“Where out east?”

“Tauppauge.”

“Tauppauge?”

“Yeah, something like that. I’m pretty sure that’s what the report said.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“Small town. Never been there.”

“How do you spell it? You’re probably pronouncing it wrong.”

“Pronouncing it wrong?” Chris laughed. “Give me a break. How does anyone really know anymore how any of those Long Island
Indian tribes pronounced the names of these towns? Every other town on this island has a name we’re pronouncing wrong and
have no freakin’ idea of the meaning. Some Indian told the first white settler of Tauppauge that the name meant ‘sun setting
over beautiful lake’ when it actually meant ‘moron lives here.’”

Gavin took his eyes off the road to give Chris a blank stare. “Do you think that’s why Hess went after the
Sachacus
?”

“You scoff.”

Gavin rolled his eyes.

“Anyway, we caught a break with the fingerprints. Hess had applied for a pistol permit and was denied because he failed to
report
an arrest from ten and a half years ago. Even though the judge reduced the crime to loitering, the FBI wound up with his file
and… prints.”

“What did he do?”

“Stole a piece of cheese from a supermarket. Claimed he was hungry and broke.”

“A piece of freaking cheese because he was hungry? No other priors? That’s it?”

“As far as arrests go. But there’s more. The FBI also provided us with a few photos of him,” Chris said, then began opening
a manila envelope.

Gavin nodded, but he was having a hard time concentrating on anything Chris was saying. His mind kept drifting to Krogan and
the message he was going to send him.

“This is him,” Chris said, holding a photo in front of Gavin’s radio. “The picture taken at the arrest.”

“
This
is Soldier?” Gavin said, taking brief glances at the photo.

“Adorable, isn’t he?”

“He looks about ten.”

“Eighteen.”

“They fingerprinted and photographed him for shoplifting a piece of cheese?”

“Must have been a slow night. When his name popped up, the Feds were quick to find this photo,” Chris said, replacing the
first photo with a second.

“Does the media have a copy of these?”

“Not yet, but they will tomorrow morning.”

“Why wait?”

“I just got these before I saw you. We want our guys to know who this guy is before anyone else. And this will give us time
to double- and triple-check our information. If the public gets hold of him before we do, they’ll drag him to the nearest
tree.”

“Works for me,” Gavin said under his breath.

“And if he’s the wrong guy… or has a partner we don’t know about?”

“Easy, Big Dog. Just kidding,” Gavin said as he glanced long enough at the photo to see a medium-built, boyish-looking blond
man smiling while talking to another man in a crowded place. He frowned. “Where was this photo taken? He doesn’t seem to be
aware that anyone was taking his picture.”

“He wasn’t. The Feds took this photo at a private gun show in Georgia last year.”

“Private gun show?”

“Invitation only. A religious group calling themselves ‘The Chosen.’ Very secretive. Very dangerous. Growing. The gun show
and everyone involved vanished overnight. They hope Hess might lead them to their new hideaway.”

“What have The Chosen done to draw FBI crosshairs?”

“They’re suspected of numerous bank robberies to fund their operations.”

“I’d like to hear how they rationalize that to their followers.”

“Simple. The government is the enemy of God and run by Jews who rejected and crucified the true Messiah. Their recruits usually
have histories of being short on cash, out of patience, and looking for someone to blame for it all. All they need is a leader
to deliver them as they get ready for the end of the world.”

“With automatic weapons, no doubt.”

“That, too. So they don’t pay any taxes, rob from federal institutions, and pocket any government grants they can get their
hands on.”

“Sounds like the Mob,” Gavin said, then crushed the gas pedal to get through a yellow light. He wasn’t even close. A horn
blared.

Chris paused to sigh, then continued. “Worse. They believe what they’re doing is right; their plans are God’s plans, which
makes them braver. The Feds have been trying to infiltrate the group but have mysteriously lost a couple of agents in the
effort. What they do know is that some of the group’s leaders, called ‘missionaries,’ have been ‘sent’ out to start churches
around the country, slowly influencing the congregants into their way of thinking. Occasionally, a special congregant will
be selected and funneled back to the mother group to become one of ‘The Chosen.’”

“Where does Hess fit in?”

“The Feds aren’t sure. He isn’t a missionary, but his pastor might be. The best way to infiltrate the core group would be
as a selected congregant. They don’t know yet who his pastor is, but the prospect of finding him has them very excited. They
smell blood.”

“Excited? A train gets wrecked, a ferry sinks, and they’re excited because Hess might lead them to a missionary?”

“Hey, I said they were being more cooperative, I didn’t say the leopard changed its spots. And by the way, with Hess having
this type of background, everyone’s more than a little concerned about the Fourth of July. It’s just two days away.”

Gavin nodded. “Any leads on his whereabouts?”

“He moved out of an apartment over a garage about a month ago. Disappeared. According to his landlady, he was a bit of a recluse.
Paid his rent on time with cash and was quiet. The perfect tenant.”

“Yeah, perfect. Where did he work?”

“Here and there. He was a handyman. Did odd jobs for cash.”

“He’s handy, all right. Relatives?”

“Parents are divorced and gone. One in Florida, the other in Massachusetts.”

“Telephone?”

“He had one and we’re working on his calls in and out. So far nothing, but we’ve just started. He also had a computer. We’re
checking his IP for e-mails and websites. Can’t wait to see what turns up there.”

“Sounds like we got a lot of work ahead between handyman clients, phone calls, friends, neighbors, suppliers, and e-mails.”

“Yes, which brings up the question.”

“What question?”

“How much time are we going to spend at the coliseum watching a freakin’ WWX show?”

“Not long. Did we get any prints from the cement truck?”

“Yes, but they all belonged to the passenger. The driver apparently wore gloves. Which, by the way, was not the case with
Krogan. His prints were everywhere, remember?”

“I remember. But that was before he was a celebrity.”

Chris paused.

Gavin felt his partner’s gaze and was waiting for a lecture he had no believable comeback for. He thought about how Buck must
have felt two years ago when Gavin first questioned him about spiritual beliefs that were impossible to prove, yet had to
be true. “What about forensics?” Gavin went on. “Any hair? Blood? There had to be blood.”

“Well, of course. Not as much as you might think, but enough to make a match. But we’re saving it for a suspect. A real one.”

“We’ve got one.”

“We can’t just get a blood sample or pluck the hair out of someone just because they changed their stage name. And if you
try getting it yourself… the old-fashioned way, I’ll be locking you up.”

“If you can guarantee me Amy will be in the same cell, I’ll take it. At least we’ll have a roof over our heads, and Krogan
will be on the other side of the bars.”

“Let me get this straight. You think this Jackhammer Hoban wrestler not only changed his name to Krogan but became so enamored
with the real Krogan, the one
in jail,
that he drove through
your house with a cement truck because you’re the one who arrested Dengler?”

Gavin took another moment to think. “Not exactly, but you’re getting closer.” Maybe he was going about this all wrong. He
was worried about what Chris would think if he just came out and told him Krogan was a demon. What if he allowed Chris to
be the detective and get closer himself to what would have to be the inevitable conclusion?

“Explain.”

“The lobster-claw roach clip presents a major problem with Jackhammer Hoban. He wouldn’t have had any way of ever knowing
about it. The claw was never made public and wasn’t needed at trial. There’s no way anyone but you, me, Amy, Buck, and Krogan
would have known to leave it in the ashtray.”

“So then I’m also a suspect,” Chris said.

Gavin gave him a glance. “You’re always my first suspect. But I ruled you out early.”

“Oh… thank you. I guess our partnership counts for something.”

“Actually, no. I figured you wouldn’t have driven over Amy’s new minivan when you had the chance to crush this car instead.”

“This is true. But then if you don’t think Hoban drove through your house, why are we going to the coliseum?”

“I think he’s… connected.”

“How?”

Gavin exhaled. “Look, all I can tell you right now is that there’s more to this Krogan thing than Karl Dengler.”

“You sound certain of that.”

“Fairly certain, but I’ll know for sure very soon. And hopefully so will you.”

“At the WWX?”

“Yes.”

“What are you going to do, ask him?”

“I won’t have to ask.”

Chris sighed. “You’ve lost your mind and I’m along for the ride. Meanwhile, the guy we’re supposed to be chasing is probably
preparing for his next casualty.”

“Sorry, Chris, but I can only be in one place at a time and at the moment, Krogan tops my list.”

“You know,” Chris said. “I’ve known you for a long time, and in that time I’ve known you to be stubborn, brave, persistent,
loyal, obstinate, spontaneous, inflexible, a lousy driver, mulish, a decent detective—at times—pigheaded, a below-average
carpenter—”

“Okay, enough, or I’ll make you walk,” Gavin said, and then looked Chris dead in the eye. “And you know I’ll do it.”

“Did I say ‘stubborn’?”

“You said all you’re going to say.”

“Sorry, Gav. I know you’re under a lot of stress, but I’ve never seen you irrational… or at least not
this
irrational. You know full well that Krogan is locked up pushin’ life without parole. I admit, the lobster claw and the WWX
guy naming himself Krogan is weird. But not as weird as him coming after you. Makes no sense. Very irrational. Not you.”

“Okay, you’ve made your point.”

“That wasn’t my point,” Chris said soberly.

Gavin rolled his eyes. “There’s more?”

“My point is… you’re lying to me.”