The Bricklayer (25 page)

V
AIL SLEPT LESS THAN TWO HOURS AND THEN FITFULLY, AWAKENING
at the sound of any vehicle passing by in the covered garage. He got out of the car and walked down to the street, where he watched the traffic for fifteen minutes from a shadowed doorway. When he was satisfied that there was no longer a search being conducted in the neighborhood, he went to his car and drove out.

When he finally found himself a safe distance from the hotel, he pulled over. After turning on the laptop again, he waited while his e-mails downloaded.

There were only three of them. He found the Bureau of Prison’s report and opened it. It was almost twenty pages long and contained a lot of boilerplate because of the extensive records that are necessary in a federal institution due to lawsuits. He scanned it quickly until his eyes landed on the
name Benjamin Charles Lavolet, a known associate of Victor James Radek. He had been serving a fifteen-year sentence for narcotics distribution and was paroled just a month before the first Pentad murder in Los Angeles. His last known address was 1414 Sistine Lane, apartment 2W, in Los Angeles. Vail located it on a map Web site and saw that it was about half a mile from the Spring Street house. The factory on Keller Street was about a mile away. The building being refurbished on Seventh was less than a ten-minute drive.

Vail pulled back into traffic. The sun was starting to set. The air smelled like rain and the temperature had dropped a couple of degrees. It would be a good time to set up on the apartment. Since the report didn’t have a phone number for Lavolet, and since he could no longer call the FBI office to get one, Vail had only two options: The first was to try to get into the apartment, which, if Tye and Radek were there, could be disastrous. The other was to surveil it and see if any lights came on once it got dark.

The building had four units and two of them already had lights on when he got there. Benny’s windows—assuming that 2W was the westernmost apartment on the second floor—showed no signs of life. He waited another half hour and still the unit remained dark.

Deciding to read the Bureau of Prisons report in full to see if there were any more associates of Radek in the area, Vail opened the laptop and turned it on. He took notes in case there were others who might have since moved to the L.A. area. But, as far as known addresses, Lavolet’s was the only
one. Vail was about to shut off the computer when suddenly it beeped. It was an incoming message—from Tye Delson.

It was a streaming video of her. But it couldn’t be from her cell phone, because Radek had smashed it, plus there was no sound. Then he remembered her PDA. He had e-mailed some information to it for the search warrant at the steam laundry.

The angle of the image indicated that it was being taken by her, possibly from down at her side. It was shooting up at her face. A piece of duct tape was securely across her mouth, a second across her eyes. Somehow she had managed to pull up one corner, enough to have limited vision out of one eye. A trickle of blood from her nose had dried on her upper lip. The exposed eye was wide with fear, but Vail thought he detected something else—rage. If her condition wasn’t disturbing enough, Vail could see a thin slice of her shoulder and chest. She appeared to be naked.

Then she pulled the device down behind her back as it flickered on and off indicating the battery was low. He saw the unmistakable double strand of a handcuff around one wrist, and then a chain with a padlock that hung from it and was attached by a second lock to a heavy radiator. On the floor was her purse, its contents scattered. Radek must not have known about her PDA, if he even knew what one was.

The camera moved to the window and showed the surrounding neighborhood. The image flickered again, this time the black screen lasting a second or two. An ornate two-story building seemed to be the target of her effort. It was distinctive and apparently the best clue she
could offer as to her whereabouts. The screen went black, and Vail feared that the battery was finally dead. He waited a few interminable seconds but there was no more.

It started to rain. He turned on the wipers and let their rhythm hypnotize him for a moment. Then he closed his eyes tightly, trying to recall every detail of the building. It was more Victorian than anything else, but with some possible French influence. The architectural details were so elaborately overdesigned that he judged the structure to be at least a hundred years old. But how did you find a list of hundred-year-old buildings in Los Angeles, if he was even right about the age? Then suddenly it occurred to him that he had seen the building somewhere before, not from that angle, but from street level, maybe the day Bertok was killed. The windows were unusual, projecting out from the building face at least two feet and complex in their detail. They were bordered with stone pillars, the crowns of which were semicircles capped with triangles. He hadn’t been to that many places in Los Angeles, so hopefully it was retrievable from wherever it was hiding in his memory.

Undoubtedly, someone with a better-educated eye than Vail would have been able to narrow down the architecture, someone who would have made a mental note the moment he first saw it and remembered its location. But Vail was the only one who had seen the video stream, and now that image was permanently gone. If he was right and the building was a hundred years old, it would most likely be around other old buildings. He thought about the house on Spring Street. One of the buildings next to it, not the scrap yard, but the one on the other side, had “Est. 1883” painted on a wall.
That was certainly a century old, and the neighborhood had a mix of residential and commercial properties. He made a U-turn and sped off toward Spring Street.

Once he arrived at the house, Vail got out and scanned the neighborhood. He didn’t see anything resembling the ornate two-story building. But the day he thought he had seen it, he and Kate had set up a block away. He drove to the spot, turned the car around, and pulled to the curb.

After getting out, he slowly turned in all directions. Then, in the distance, he spotted it. It was illuminated in the rain by a halo caused by the streetlights. He put the car in gear and sped toward it. When he got closer, he started driving cautiously, searching the surrounding buildings from which Tye’s PDA could have sent the stream.

The rain was coming down harder now, making his recollection of the video even more difficult. When he got a little closer, he climbed out of the car, ignoring the downpour. There was only one building that it could have been shot from. It was a small three-story hotel, the kind that was popular at the turn of the twentieth century, a bar on the first floor and fewer than ten rooms on the second and third floors.

He could read the sign now—“The Lindbergh Hotel.” There were four windows on each of the upper floors that were a possibility. Vail closed his eyes and tried to remember the angle of the video to figure out whether it was from the second or third floor, but then decided he couldn’t chance being wrong.

A few doors down from the hotel, he pulled crookedly to the curb on the same side of the street and jumped out. No longer having a handgun, he went to the trunk and took out
the shotgun. The rain was now a good thing, he decided; it had chased everyone indoors. He loaded the magazine with double-aught buck shells, filling one jacket pocket with deer slugs and the other with more double-aught. He held the weapon down at his side as inconspicuously as possible.

Immediately next door to the bar was the hotel’s door. Vail tried it but it was locked with a thick metal plate, ensuring that even if he’d had a Halligan, it would have been difficult to open discreetly. That left going into the bar. A dangerous thing with a shotgun in hand.

The bar was small and dingy. Only four customers were inside, all of them sitting at the bar and looking comfortable. They had to be regulars. Vail knew that as long as he didn’t interfere with their drinking, they wouldn’t cause any problems. The bartender, an overweight but strong-looking man with greasy hair and acne scars, alerted and squared himself defensively once he saw Vail enter with the shotgun. Vail could read his streetwise eyes—he knew that Vail was some sort of cop and this was not a robbery. But for him, cops were usually as much trouble as criminals. Vail walked up to him. “You have four rooms facing the street.” Vail took a wet mug shot out his pocket and dropped it on the bar.

The bartender prided himself on not cooperating with the police, but something in Vail’s eyes told him not to push it too far.

“Who are you?”

“You know who I am.”

“I’m going to need to see a badge.”

With his left hand, Vail held up the shotgun by the cock
ing grip and gave it a quick up-and-down jerk, jacking a round into the chamber convincingly. “Which room?”

“Three C. There’s only two rented on that side; the other one’s a Korean family on the second floor.”

“The key.” The bartender went to a drawer below the cash register and took out a ring of keys. He started to take one off when Vail said, “The master, the one that opens the door to the street.” The bartender took a small ring from his pocket and pulled a key off of it.

Vail turned to go. “You’d better call the police.”

“And tell them what?”

“There’s been a murder.”

Vail slid the key into the front door of the hotel, and it turned with a worn ease. He closed it slowly behind him to keep from making any noise and started up the stairs two at a time. The rain was still coming down hard and he hoped that it would muffle his movement up the stairs. The narrow hallway on the third floor didn’t have any windows. A single low-wattage bulb cast the corridor in a dusty yellow light. Vail walked along the wall trying not to step on any squeaky floorboards, but there were too many of them. Hopefully they couldn’t be heard inside the room.

When he got to 3C, he stood outside listening. When he didn’t hear anything, he leaned his ear against the door and listened again. Still nothing. Standing to the side, he worked the master key into the lock slowly and started to turn it. A half-dozen shots exploded through the door.

From the way the window was positioned in the video, Vail knew Tye had to be in a different room. Without getting in front of the door, he extended the shotgun to arm’s
length and fired three rounds back through the door, slightly altering the direction of each. Then he heard the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the floor. He tried the key again, but something had hit the lock and jammed it, probably one of the bullets fired at him. Moving in front of the door, he jumped up and toward it, using his momentum and weight as he kicked at the lock. The door broke open but only a foot or so. Vail could see a man’s motionless hand on the floor through the narrow opening, his body now blocking the door. Vail pushed in far enough to squeeze through. Victor Radek had taken one of the shotgun blasts in the chest, a black automatic still in his hand.

“Tye!” Vail yelled.

In response, he heard a cry. He went into the bedroom and found her still chained to the radiator, her PDA in her hand. When she saw him, tears from the eye that was not taped began streaming down her cheek. She was completely naked and curled up to hide herself as best she could. Vail ripped a sheet off the bed and wrapped her in it. As he started to take the tape off of her, they could hear sirens in the distance.

Vail checked the handcuffs. “Do you know where the key is?”

“I never saw one. But after he taped my mouth and eyes, he jingled a key ring in front of my face, and asked, ‘Do you know what that sound is? It’s the sound of freedom.’ It’s got to be on him.”

“I’ll be right back. You’ll be all right—he’s dead.” She nodded, trying not to cry. He tucked the sheet around her a little more tightly to make sure it wouldn’t come off. “I’ll just
be a second.” In the other room, he rolled the body over and searched the pockets. Aside from a wad of hundred-dollar bills, the only thing Vail found was the key ring. It had six keys on it, none of which were for handcuffs.

Two LAPD officers burst into the room and pointed their guns at Vail. He told them he was FBI and was allowed to ease his credentials out slowly. Taking one of their handcuff keys, Vail went back in the bedroom and freed her, and then he helped her onto the bed. He collected her clothes from around the room. When he saw she was shaking, he sat down next to her, and she collapsed into his arms. She cried for a few minutes and then straightened up.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” she said.

“You know it’s all right if you’re not.”

“It’s just the relief that’s it over, that’s all. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, but we’re still going to the hospital to be sure.”

She hesitated a moment. “We have to go—for legal reasons.”

“Legal?”

“In case there’s any question, either with L.A. or the FBI, about your having to shoot that animal.”

“I don’t understand,” Vail said.

Slowly, as if each word brought new pain, she said, “We have to go to the hospital”—she looked down at her hands—“so they can do a rape kit.”

Vail tightened his arms around her, and she began to sob uncontrollably.

F
ROM WHERE HE SAT IN THE EMERGENCY WAITING ROOM, VAIL
watched Kate follow Kaulcrick through the door. The assistant director maintained his usual controlled facade, but not Kate. Her lips were drawn back into a flat line and her fists were clenched in anger. Vail stood up to meet them.

“How’s Tye?” she asked.

“They’re still examining her.” He hesitated before adding, “They’re going to have to do a rape kit.”

Kate sank into the nearest chair, forgetting her anger. “How awful,” she said. “How
awful
.”

“Physically, she’s a little banged up, but she’s all right.”

“Did she say how he got her?”

“I didn’t ask her any questions. I have no idea how to help with this, so I didn’t want her reliving anything she shouldn’t be.”

All Kate seemed to be able to say was “That’s awful.”

Kaulcrick could wait no longer. “And the three million dollars?”

In a tone that was neither defensive nor apologetic, Vail told them everything from the phone call warning of insider information, to delivering the money and surviving another of Radek’s traps, to Tye’s PDA video and the final shoot-out.

“Does she have any idea what he did with the money?” Kaulcrick asked.

“He tied her up and left her chained to the radiator in that hotel room and disappeared with it. She said he was gone for a couple of hours. She didn’t see any sign of it after he got back.”

“So you have no idea where it is.”

“Maybe there’s something back at the hotel room. I didn’t get a chance to look around.”

This time the assistant director didn’t try to hide his disdain for Vail. “Now we’ve got to try to find that three million dollars
again
.”

“Technically, you didn’t find it the first time.”

“
Technically,
you gave it away twice. Give me your credentials. You no longer represent this organization.”

Kate said, “Don, don’t you think we might need Steve’s help looking for the money?”

Kaulcrick spun around, his anger rising. “Let me explain something to you and your—whatever he is—here. I’ve been letting this farce go on because at times it seemed to be moving the investigation forward, but without FBI credentials, without FBI equipment, without the systems we have in place and the official channels that we draw information through, your superagent wouldn’t have been able to accom
plish anything. It’s this organization and its people that allowed him to achieve whatever success he’s had. So, no, Kate, we don’t need his help. We just need to work a little harder and we’ll find the money on our own. Everyone is one hundred percent dead now, so nobody will be moving it around. It’ll be much easier to come up with.”

Vail handed him his credentials. “I hope you’re right,” he said. Kate looked at Vail, somewhat amazed. He was sincere. She couldn’t believe that he wasn’t insulted by what the assistant director had said.

But Kaulcrick assumed Vail’s only response could be rancor. “I suppose that means you think you can find it without the FBI?” His face grew flush with lost control. “I’ll tell you what”—his tone now lowered itself to a seething ridicule—“if you can find it, you can keep it. How’s that, hotshot? Let’s go, Kate.”

“Give me a minute, will you, Don?”

“I guess this man hasn’t done enough damage to your career. I’m waiting two minutes and then you can find your own way back. And I’m not talking about back to the office.” He turned and stormed out of the room.

She stood up, her voice formal again. “Please tell Tye if she needs anything at all to call me. I assume you’re all right.” It sounded almost like an accusation.

“Kate, don’t confuse what might have happened between us a couple of nights ago—or how I feel about you now—with the way I do things.” He lowered his voice. “I wasn’t going to call you on this because I knew, given any opportunity, I would probably kill him. I wouldn’t expose anyone to that kind of trouble, least of all you.”

“I don’t know how many times I have to tell you to stop protecting me.” Her voice calmed. “Maybe I should have simply told you to quit using it as an excuse. Now I understand why there are no faces in your apartment, or anywhere else in your life—you are incapable of trusting anyone. Not even me, who has stood by you to the point of getting shot and having my career left hanging by a thread. Only the bad guys deserved to be thrown through plate-glass windows. But that’s all right. It’s who you are. The good part is that you solve impossible problems. I appreciate everything you’ve done. Without you, we’d still be leaning back congratulating ourselves for hanging this on Stan Bertok. But unfortunately, the bad part makes it impossible for anyone to form an alliance with you on any level. So thanks for your help and, since I doubt I’ll see you again, good-bye.”

Vail watched her walk away. For the first time in a long time, he wanted to defend himself, to bring her back, but he knew most of what she was feeling was more right than wrong.

A half hour later, two men who had that detective’s exhaustion about them walked in. “You Steve Vail?”

“I’m guessing you’re homicide.”

“We’d like to get a statement from you.”

Vail knew that no matter how impure his intentions had been, the shooting was justifiable. “I can’t leave, but if you don’t mind doing it here, fire away.”

WHEN THE DETECTIVES
had finished they stood up, and each shook Vail’s hand. It was a positive sign he could feel in their
grip. They were sending the message that it had been a good shoot. One of them handed Vail his card. “We’re going to need to take a statement from Miss Delson. Do you think she’d be up to it?”

“I understand that you have to interview her, and I understand that you have to ask her about the rape. But—”

“Don’t worry, this isn’t our first time.”

Vail flashed an embarrassed smile. “Sorry.”

The detectives made an inquiry at the nurses’ station and were ushered through a door behind it.

Almost two hours later, a nurse came out and told Vail that Tye was ready to be discharged. When she walked out, Vail was surprised at her demeanor. She seemed relaxed and somewhat energized. He watched her closely, trying to see if it was an act, something he suspected tough women, having gone through what she had, tried to talk themselves into. She wasn’t giving out any clues with her body language, but Vail knew that verbal clues could be more telling. “Feel like some breakfast?”

“What time is it?”

“Almost four thirty.”

“a.m., right?”

Vail smiled gently. “Made that jump right from ‘breakfast’ to it being morning. Evidently your mind is working.”

She gave a brief laugh, more courteous than amused. “I know you’re concerned, but after some food and sleep, I think you’ll be impressed how quickly I bounce back.”

“Actually I’d be surprised if you didn’t.”

“That’s very kind of you.” She put her hand on his. “I haven’t really thanked you for what you did.”

“And now you have.”

Her eyes had started to well up, but Vail’s response made her smile. She sniffled away the tears and patted him on the hand. “Let’s go find a truck stop and order the biggest, greasiest thing on the menu. I’m buying.”

“That’s the best offer I’ve had all day. Especially from a woman.”

DURING BREAKFAST,
Vail could see Tye’s spirits gradually repairing themselves. By the end of the meal she was laughing with a seemingly reengaged sense of humor, maybe the best indicator of all. At one point, after a period of awkward silence, she became more serious. “Steve, there’s only one thing I’m concerned about. Do you think Radek was the last of them?”

“I hope so. I’m out of ammunition.” She gave another short, polite laugh, making him realize it was the wrong tack. “Sorry. As far as I can see, that’s it.” Vail smiled at her reassuringly. “Absolutely, I think he was the last of the Pentad.”

This time it was Tye who read some doubt in his voice. “But you’d feel better if the three million had been sitting in his apartment.”

“Well, the money is a consideration. If you don’t know where it is, you don’t know if someone’s got it. But Radek had robbed eight armored cars; he knew how to hide bulk money. It could be off somewhere being laundered. The Bureau’s searching his hotel room right now. Maybe the answer will be there.”

Tye looked at him questioningly. “You said ‘the Bureau is
searching’ instead of ‘
we’re
searching.’ What’s going on?”

“I’m no longer with the FBI. I was just more or less fired. Who could have seen that coming?” Vail said, his smile relaxed, disarming. “I know what you’re missing. Do you want me to get you some cigarettes?”

“No, no, that’s all right. I think I’m going to try to quit.” She patted him on the hand. “I’m okay. Really.”

Vail nodded at her plate. “I’d ask you if you want anything else, but I think you’ve already eaten everything on the menu.”

“While I’ll never be able to thank you for what you did last night, I think I’m just as impressed with how kind you’ve been since…since you came and got me.” She took a deep breath to demonstrate renewal and pushed her plate away. “Now, I’m ready to go home.” Her words were meant to be filled with resolve but sounded tenuous, as if she were about to bungee jump off a bridge and wondered if the tether was the proper length.

A little later when Vail pulled into her driveway, she looked at the house solemnly. “Do you want me to come in?” he offered. “I could stay while you get some sleep.”

“As tempting as that is, eventually it’ll make it that much harder. No, this is it for you, Steve Vail. You’re off duty. Go back to your life. It’s time for me to climb back on the horse.” She grabbed his hand and squeezed it, her eyes damp with emotion. “But I’ve got to warn you, the next time I get kidnapped, I’ve still got your number.” She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said, and got out.

AS SOON AS VAIL
walked into the lobby of his hotel, two agents he recognized from the office came up and announced with forced authority, “The SAC wants to see you.”

Vail laughed. “You do know that I no longer work for the FBI?”

“He still wants to see you,” one of them said nervously.

“How long have you been waiting here?”

“A couple of hours.”

“Then the SAC can wait a little longer. I’m going up to shower and change clothes. You can come up and make sure I don’t
escape,
or you can wait in the bar.”

The two agents looked at each other, not sure what to do. Vail turned to go. “While you two figure it out, I’ll be in my room.”

They hurried after him.

When they got to the FBI office, the agents took him directly to the SAC’s office and waited inside the doorway like guards. Mark Hildebrand was sitting at a small conference table at one end of the room. Seated across from him were a couple of older agents who Vail assumed were supervisors. “Steve, have a seat,” Hildebrand offered. Vail sat down. “Coffee?”

“Half a cup. I’m not going to be here that long.”

One of the agents who had escorted him from the hotel filled a mug and brought it over. “We need to get a statement from you as to exactly what happened last night.”

He took a sip. “Why?”

“Because this is an FBI investigation, and we don’t know what happened.”

“Normally I wouldn’t interrupt a ruse as
clever
as this,
but I’ve had very little sleep. So if I fast-forward this a bit you’ll have to excuse me. Kaulcrick isn’t here, so I’m supposed to assume that you no longer have any loyalty to him or interest in your own career? You’re asking for my statement about what happened last night. That isn’t what this is about. You don’t have a clue where the money is.” Vail searched the faces around the table. “No, there’s something else. You think I found something last night, and I’m keeping it from you. That’s it, isn’t it?” He looked around the table again. One of the supervisors diverted his eyes, confirming Vail’s suspicions.

“Steve, try to look at it from our side. We have to consider the possibility that you might have found something.”

“Where are Kaulcrick and Kate?”

“Kate’s in her office.”

Vail waited a few seconds. “Since you’re not saying where Kaulcrick is, I’ll have to assume…he’s searching my room, isn’t he?”

Hildebrand’s face reddened. “We have a warrant.”

Vail roared with laughter. “When I was first an agent, I used to wonder if there was someone in a secret room watching everyone in the office who would feed management the answers to make sure that they got everything completely wrong. There had to be because how else could you guys get everything perfectly backward?” He looked around at the walls. “Come on, you can tell me, where are the cameras?”

“Would you be willing to take a polygraph to clear yourself?”

He smiled. “I’ll be glad to take a polygraph. On one condition.”

“Which is?”

“You take one first.”

“Me? About what?”

“Kaulcrick wouldn’t have waited for a warrant to search my room, especially if he knew I wasn’t going to be there. You knew I was with Tye Delson at the hospital. Even though you did a quickie yesterday to lift my handgun, somebody had to go back to my room after the shooting for a little prewarrant reconnaissance. A little light lifting of the pillows to look for large chunks of money. Nothing that I’d notice. Just pass the box on that one question, Mark, and then you can hook me up.”

“So you’re saying no.”

“Sounds like you’re the one saying no.”

“Would you mind waiting out in my secretary’s office.”

“Listen, if you want me to help look for the money, just ask. If not, I need a ride back to my hotel. Please call and ask them to have the courtesy of being out of there by the time I get back.” Hildebrand hesitated for a few seconds, considering the advantage of joining forces with Vail, but knew that Kaulcrick was the surest route back to Washington. There was an old saying among managers: Contacts trump competence. The SAC nodded to the two agents at the door to take him back to the hotel. “Oh, two more things,” Vail said. “First, I assume you’d like to know the identity of the body in the elevator.”