Blue Molly (Danny Logan Mystery #5) (20 page)

Miguel nodded. “I called Cal up and told him we were standing by. They still haven’t heard from their guy. I’m going to get on the phone with him if he shows up, just to make sure we’re on the same page.”

“Good.”

Time moved slowly, but then eventually 4:00 p.m. passed with no word. Time seemed to speed up, and 4:05 p.m. passed and then 4:10 p.m. The winter sky was darkening quickly, aided by clouds that were low and heavy with the threat of rain. I huddled in my coat and was just about to get nervous myself when Miguel’s radio crackled to life at 4:12 p.m. “A dark SUV just pulled up in front of Laskin’s shop.” And then, a minute later, “Four men getting out . . . they don’t look like they’re here to buy copy paper.” A second later, “Confirm one of the suspects is wearing a blue Dodgers jacket. They’re looking around . . . okay—Laskin’s just come outside. They’re shaking hands . . . now they’re going inside.”

“Get ready!” Miguel yelled as he dialed Cal. “Be ready to go on my command!”

Everyone scattered, jumped into their respective vehicles, and fired up their engines, waiting for the signal to go. The 9-1-1 caller—whoever he or she was, had at least got the time right.

Fifteen minutes later, Miguel’s voice came through on the radio Steve had loaned us. “Just heard from the DEA. The deal just went down! Repeat! The deal went down! We’re go! We’re go! Everyone move out!”

The patrol units peeled out, lights flashing, followed by the SWAT truck. Miguel and Steve drove behind them, and Doc jumped right on their bumper. Thirty seconds and a couple of hard turns later, we screeched to a halt. The moment the SWAT truck stopped, the rear door burst open, and ten guys decked out in full black tactical gear adorned with white
POLICE
lettering stormed out. They were armed with M4 carbines and Benelli M4 shotguns. Without waiting, they immediately charged through the front door of the office supply store. Uniformed officers jumped out of the cars and began to chase out the vehicles and the pedestrians caught on Second Avenue in front of the office supply store.

“Over here!” Miguel yelled to us. We ducked our heads and ran up to his car, where he and Steve hunkered down in the cover provided by the vehicle. “Now, we wait,” he said. A light rain had started, so I shielded my eyes and stared at the doorway.

We didn’t have to wait long. No more than three minutes later, all the radios crackled to life at the same time. “Code four, Code four. Nine in custody.”

“Let’s go!” Miguel said.

We followed Miguel and Steve and the other officers through the shop’s front door. Miguel introduced us to Lieutenant Greg Jordan, the SWAT team commander. “The deal happened downstairs,” Greg said. “We got three in custody up here and six more downstairs, including all the out-of-towners.”

“Any trouble?”

He shook his head. “One shithead over there resisted a little, but we sorted that out pretty quick.”

I looked around the store and saw that it was a mess. A shelf was knocked over, binders and notepads strewn all over the floor. A small splotch of blood glistened on the linoleum floor next to the downed shelf. Over by the checkout counter, two SWAT team members were in the process of turning over guard responsibility for the two men and one woman in plastic handcuffs who were seated on the floor, backs up against the counter. The woman looked terrified—I figured her for the counter girl. She may not have even known what was happening. I didn’t recognize one of the men, but I sure knew the other. He was my old buddy Freddie Sokolov. He held a bloody towel up to a gash beneath his left eye—apparently, he was the resistor.

He saw me looking at him, so I smiled. “Hey, Freddie!” I pointed to his eye. “You gotta get that looked at, man.”

“Fuck you!”

I shook my head. “You know, the bar fight, the bomb, now this? Seems you’re just not very good at this business, are you?”

He had a venomous look in his eye, but he said nothing. Instead, he leaned his head back slightly, a movement I instantly recognized. I knew what was coming. He jerked forward and fired off a loogie in my direction, which I easily dodged. I shook my head again. “Nope. No good at all. Have fun in jail.” I turned to head downstairs.

* * * *

In Laskin’s basement, I looked around and noticed three things right away. First, there were two boxes, maybe one foot cubed, sitting on a table. Each box was open and practically overflowing with sealed one-quart packages containing Blue Molly capsules. Thousands and thousands of capsules. The DEA was going to be very happy.

The second thing I noticed was that there were six men seated on the ground, arms handcuffed behind their backs. One of the men was wearing a blue Dodgers jacket. Apparently, Miguel wanted to treat the UA like the others in order to preserve his cover, at least until the prisoners were separated. “That one on the end’s Peter Mishkin,” Miguel said, pointing to a man with silver hair. I was surprised. I’d only heard of him an hour before, and I’d had no chance to look him up. He was an old, frail-looking man.

The third thing I noticed was that Pavel Laskin was not one of the remaining men. I looked around and was just about to speak, when Toni said, “Where the hell’s Laskin?”

“Who?” one of the patrol officers said.

I turned to Miguel. “Where’s Laskin?”

He looked around. “Everybody, listen up! Where’s Pavel Laskin?”

The SWAT team members and the patrol officers stopped what they were doing and looked around, then looked at each other.

“C’mon!” Miguel said. “He’s a great big fucker. You couldn’t have missed him!”

Greg shook his head. “This is everyone, Miguel. Nobody else was here when we got here.”

“That can’t be,” Miguel said, looking around. “We saw him shake hands and walk in with these guys. We’re going to need to check the place again.”

As Miguel spoke, I checked out the prisoners. For the briefest instant, I caught Mishkin glancing at something away from Miguel. He saw me looking at him, so he quickly turned back to Miguel, but it was too late—I followed his eyes and I saw it.

“Miguel! The areaway! The door to the areaway is unlocked. Laskin bolted!”

“Form up!” Greg said, motioning his men to the areaway door. His team members moved quickly into position, and he swung the door open.

“Wait!” I said.

“What?” An annoyed look crossed his face.

“Where are you going?”

He nodded toward the doorway. “The hell you mean? We’re going inside. We’re going after Laskin.”

I shook my head. “You’re just going to go charging off like that? You have no idea what’s inside there.”

He gave me a nasty stare. “Well, that’s what they pay us for.” Then, prudence may have dinged a little bell in his head. He paused, then added, “I suppose you’re familiar with it?”

“Damn straight, I am. My team and I did an end-to-end inspection of the entire space last week. We know it well.”

“He’s right,” Miguel said. “They’re the ones that discovered the skeleton last week.”

Greg thought for a second. Apparently, he was a man concerned with the safety of his team members, because he said, “Alright. What are you thinking?”

“The areaway down here is like a tunnel. It’s practically pitch-black. You’re going to need lights.”

He nodded. “We got ’em.”

“Good. You got night vision?”

He shook his head. “Nope.”

I shrugged. “Too bad. Here’s the layout.” I pulled a clipboard off the wall, spun a paper around, and used the pencil attached to the string to make a quick drawing of the areaway. “I suggest you send four men this way to the south—two to lead out, two to hang back in reserve in case Laskin pops out from one of the doors behind the lead guys.”

Greg nodded.

I pointed the other way. “Laskin has what he thinks is a secret space just around the corner, right about here that we know about. He might be hiding in there. But if he’s not, there’s ten or twelve other doorways between the corner and Occidental. Most of the doors were locked from the outside with padlocks when we were in there last week, but remember, we know Laskin has keys to some of ’em. He could’ve gone into any of them.”

“You have to assume that any door that’s not padlocked from the outside is suspect,” Miguel added. “If the padlock is on the outside, you’re golden. Even Laskin the Ghost can’t lock them from the outside if he’s on the inside. If there’s no lock, though, watch out.”

“Got it,” Greg said. “What about the overhead and crap on the floor? Anything to watch out for there?”

I nodded. “Good question. The overhead’s no problem. It’s plenty high. The ground, though, is full of shit—boards, pipes, broken concrete, soft dirt, all kinds of crap. If you’re not paying attention, you
will
trip. It’s absolutely imperative you keep your lights shielded from Laskin and aimed down low to see the crap on the ground.”

“Any cover?”

I shook my head. “No. Not much, anyway. A few nooks and pop-outs in the windows. Some of the junk on the ground is stacked kind of high along the sides and might make decent concealment, but I wouldn’t trust it for cover. Your best bet is to just stay to the sides and make yourself small. I doubt he’s got night vision—it’s dark for him, too. My guess is that if he fires, it’ll likely be right down the center because he won’t want to take a chance at hitting the sides and getting ricochets or splinters.”

Greg nodded. “Good. Thanks for the briefing.”

“Greg,” Miguel said, “since Danny’s crew is so familiar with this space, do you have a problem with them leading out?”

He thought for a second and then said, “Hell, it’ll probably break about a hundred rules. But then again, it would seem that there’s no question we’ll all be safer for it.” He nodded. “We’ll deputize them later if we need to. We can still do that, right?”

Miguel shrugged. “I don’t know. Sounds good to me, though.”

Greg nodded. “So be it.” He turned to me. “Lead on.”

* * * *

Strictly speaking, Toni had not accompanied Doc and me on our last excursion through the areaway. Beyond our descriptions, she had zero experience. But Miguel didn’t seem to know that when he’d vouched for our team’s experience. I know she wanted to go because she worked her way to the front of the group, right behind Doc and me. There’s no way I could have held her back and expected to sleep in my own bed tonight, so I just kept it quiet. I wasn’t worried about her, at least not too much. She was at least as capable as any of the other team members when it came to taking care of herself.

“Lights down low, stay along the walls, move slow,” I whispered as we entered the areaway. Just like the last time we were here, I was struck by how quiet it was and by how surprisingly warm and dry. As soon as we were in, Greg tapped four men and pointed to the south. They took up positions along the wall in that direction and moved out.

After they left, I started off north on Second, brushing up against the building wall. Doc hugged the street wall on the opposite side. We moved slowly and deliberately. The highly trained SWAT team members hardly made a sound as they moved. For a moment, I was back in the Middle East on a night patrol. It was beyond eerie.

“Pssst!” I looked over and Doc was pointing in front of us. I halted the group and looked ahead, straining to see in the darkness. A few moments later, my own night vision improved and my eyes were able to make out the intersection at Main. This meant I was now leaning on the outside of Laskin’s secret space. He could literally be just around the corner. I turned and informed Greg of this, then I quietly moved us up to the edge of the corner. Just to see if I could draw a reaction, I raised my light and shone it high along the floor and walls of the intersection.

I got a reaction, alright. As soon as my light flashed past the corner, two gunshots immediately came from somewhere down on Main Street. The bullets buzzed through the intersection and slammed into the street retainer on Second, sending shards of concrete in all directions.

“Good idea,” Doc whispered, rubbing his face. “But don’t do it again.”

I nodded. “You okay?”

He nodded.

“Sounded a little muffled to me. It didn’t sound like it came from anywhere close.”

He shook his head. “Down a ways.”

I turned back to Greg. “Good news. We know he’s not behind us and he’s not in his secret space I told you about. Sounds like he’s down the street, maybe all the way to the next building—it’s about fifty meters from the corner. But we’re going to need to get around this corner and take up positions alongside the wall. You guys ready?”

Greg nodded. “Yeah. Keep us moving.”

I took a quick peek around the corner, but I couldn’t see anything in the darkness. I waved to Doc, and he jumped across the ten-foot-wide areaway in a couple of bounds. No shots fired.

He moved forward and crouched down low. Then he signaled to me, so I went around the corner and inched forward. Doc then signaled to Toni and she hopped across, followed by the SWAT team members. In a couple of minutes, we were all in position, now on Main, heading west, downhill.

I moved carefully up to the door to Laskin’s secret space and found that it was unlocked. There’s no way I can walk past an unlocked door while I’m clearing a room—I had to check it out. I was reasonably confident that Laskin wasn’t inside—the gunshots had come from much farther down the street. Still, I was cautious. Standing out of the doorway, I pushed the door open. No response. I kicked my light up high and flashed the room quickly. It was empty, save for a box near the door.

Curious, I stepped inside for a closer look. The labeling on the box struck me.

Son of a bitch!

Miguel stepped in behind me and saw what I was looking at. “Well, Danny,” he said, placing his hand on my shoulder, “I guess the question of who planted the bomb in your Jeep has been answered.”

“No shit. Bastard owes me.”

“Yeah. And think about it. With this little discovery, one way or another, he’s going to jail.”

I nodded. This was already a good news day. I stepped back out into the areaway and moved to the next space, the one that both Doc and I were very familiar with. It was locked.