‘If I try to talk with her about whatever I’m working on, it’s always too much information for her. She shuts me down. If I go quiet, it’s my fault we don’t communicate. I’m too tall and getting thin and work too much. I’m getting old faster than her. Don’t ask me how she figured that out, but she’s certain of it. Other complaints: I should have stayed in academia and would have made a name and be safely tenured. I know you don’t want to hear about my marriage but it affects my decision to commit with you. She isn’t going to like it.’
He continued on about his wife for a while and deflected questions and skipped through a variety of topics. He was bright and articulate and for all Marquez knew he had the name and number of the biologist in his cell phone. If not for last night and Soliatano’s visit with Hauser, Marquez might have pushed it to the line with Hauser now. He came close then backed off. He dropped Hauser at the deli and watched him walk back to the ENTR office with sunlight on his back and San Francisco Bay a dark blue beyond him, and decided that Hauser was a cynic and working on a trade with Fish and Game. He wasn’t going to quietly turn over a name and phone number of a biologist, and that wasn’t a moral wrong, but it was a choice. He watched him cross the street and start down the next block, thinking
I know you’re planning something
.
I know that and I don’t have much time to figure out what it is—and we still need your help
.
F
or more than a decade Marquez ran California Fish and Game’s undercover team, the Special Operations Unit or SOU, where the mission was clear: disrupt the black market flow of California wildlife and penetrate as high up the chain as possible, while at the same time projecting enough presence to make a skipper of a salmon trawler hooking an urchin bag filled with illegal abalone second-guess himself. It took luck, patience, and long hours to build the case a District Attorney’s office couldn’t find an excuse not to prosecute. It required teamwork and timing and knowing how to utilize momentum.
Now was different and quieter and in many ways more complex. He picked up the loose threads. He chased the lead once sure that had vanished, the investigation too slowly unfolding for the SOU to focus on, too expensive or time consuming, or the case where a key witness recanted at the last moment and disappeared into hiding. Or the black marketer who picks up on the surveillance and folds up shop temporarily. These came to Marquez.
He also worked with the Feds as a task force officer with the FBI and a deputized US Marshal. His passport breezed him through airport inspections and he was a burr to global traffickers. He often worked alone and that took a toll. He was alone this afternoon as he knocked on the door of Emile Soliatano’s house. He knew now there was a wife and a dog and that Emile worked swing shift in a new factory in Sacramento where you needed the skill of an engineer to operate the robotic equipment. He knew the pay was very good there.
When Emile opened the door he blinked at the sunlight as if he’d never experienced it before and waited for Marquez to speak with an expression of curiosity and trepidation. Perhaps he hoped Marquez was a window salesman about to hand him a business card and propose measuring and pricing replacement windows. Yet it was in his eyes that he was afraid of this knock.
Marquez identified himself and slowly showed him his badge.
‘I’m sorry about Enrique’s death. I’m here on a follow up.’
‘How did you find me?’
‘You gave your cell phone number to hospital staff and they gave it to me.’
They looked at each other. Emile was a big guy. He filled the doorway. He blocked the door. Behind him a TV was on and no doubt he knew the Department of Fish and Game was very interested in talking with anybody who was a friend, associate, or family of Enrique Jordan. Local police were also canvassing.
‘I don’t feel much feel like talking about my brother and I’ve got to go to work real soon.’
‘How soon?’
‘Soon, and I’ve got to get ready. What’s the big deal talking to me?’
‘Your brother was trying to dump a thousand fingerling pike in the Sacramento River. That would have been bad news for the river.’
‘I don’t know anything about that.’
‘Who called 911?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘After the accident a call got made to 911.’
‘How would I know who called?’
‘Haven’t you wondered?’
‘I hadn’t even thought about it. I guess I’m not thinking clearly.’
‘His phone was nowhere near him. We couldn’t find it anywhere.’
‘Maybe it got thrown out of the truck.’
‘Yeah, maybe we should go look for it together. In fact, that’s what I want to do. Let’s go there together and I’d like to hear your side of things before we do anything with you.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘What it sounds like.’
Soliatano blinked at the sunlight again, said, ‘I don’t understand.’
‘What if talking to me was your best chance of dealing with this?’
‘What the fuck? What have I done? Is this because I said he was my brother and he’s really my cousin? If it is, big fucking deal. I needed that nurse to talk to me. They’re going to talk to immediate family and I wanted to know he was okay.’
‘You already knew he wasn’t. You were just making sure.’
Now Soliatano moved to shut the door.
‘You can do that. You can close the door and I can come back with a search warrant and question your wife. That’s your call, Emile.’
Soliatano shut the door and Marquez walked back out to the street. He didn’t turn or look back and was close to driving away when Soliatano hustled out to stop him, raising a hand, walking toward his car, signaling him to wait. Marquez lowered the passenger-side window.
‘Enrique was a good friend and I’m freaking out. Like I said, I’m not thinking straight.’
‘Were you with him when he picked up the coolers with the fish?’
‘I don’t know anything about that.’
‘I think you do. Two undercover operatives and I followed you from the hospital and I know Enrique didn’t make the call to 911. If we have to run a voice analysis I can get the taped call compared to your voice, or you can just talk to me.’
Marquez couldn’t get a voice analysis done and didn’t know anything about the 911 caller other than he was male and Soliatano was a good fit, but from Soliatano’s downcast expression he knew he had hit home.
‘Start with the pike.’
‘I didn’t know what kind they were and he didn’t either. It didn’t matter and I only sort of know where he goes to get them.’
‘How many river trips with pike did Enrique make?’
‘This was the second time. All the fish in the first drop died of a virus – or that’s what they told him. He was going to have to go back there again.’
‘I need you to show me where the first drop happened and where you think the hatchery is.’
‘Like I said, I don’t know where it is. They’re super tight about only the drivers going in.’
‘How many drivers?’
‘Enrique and one other guy. What’s so bad about these fish?’
In Soliatano’s version there was the same one guy at the hatchery every time his distant cousin, Enrique Jordan, showed up which was once every two weeks, so four weeks in on a schedule that might or might not go through the winter. At the hatchery they told Enrique they would plant young fish in the rivers all winter if it was warm enough. He got a thousand dollars for each river stocking and the job came through a friend of Enrique’s that Emile couldn’t remember the name of.’
‘But you rode with him each time?’
Emile nodded.
‘What did your cousin say about the man at the hatchery?’
‘The guy never talked to him. He made sure Enrique knew where he was going and never said what type of fish or anything. Enrique did training before he got hired and the job was different and then this part for cash came along after about six months. It was all super legit at first.’
‘Give me a description of the man at the hatchery.’
‘I never asked.’
It went like that. Marquez got close to the hatchery but never quite touched it, though Soliatano led him back into the house and showed him on his computer where he thought it was, between Chico and Sacramento but east into the foothills. The area he vaguely outlined was about a hundred square miles.
At some point it hit Marquez and he looked at Soliatano.
‘You were the connection. You’re the friend that got him the job.’
They went back and forth on that and when Soliatano admitted to that it still didn’t feel right.
‘I didn’t know these guys. I just knew they were looking for a couple of drivers and my cousin drove everything.’
‘How did you know they were looking for drivers?’
‘I don’t remember how.’
They kept talking past the time Soliatano was supposed to go to work and Soliatano came up with new numbers. Enrique was really making five grand per delivery, which was really good money. They both knew it was illegal what he was doing, but he stuck with not knowing what the fish was and Marquez believed that might be true.
‘Dumping fish in a river at night with your lights off? You’re trying to tell me you thought that was legit? Give me a break. What about the man you met last night? Was Matt Hauser the one who hired you?’
Soliatano adjusted to that, paused, and then reframed his story.
‘Hauser hired me to ride with Enrique.’
‘Ride with Enrique when he dumped fish in the river?’
‘Yes.’
‘How much has Hauser paid you?’
‘That money is all gone, man. My wife is pregnant. We’re doing the baby’s room. It’s spent. I can’t give you the money.’
‘I’m not asking for any money. I want to know how much he paid you.’
‘Two thousand each drive.’
‘Two thousand dollars each ride you took with Enrique?’
‘Yeah, and he wanted to know about everything.’
‘Did he say why?’
‘No.’
‘What did he give you when you drove down last night?’
‘He doubled it. He gave me four grand and said four more if I didn’t talk to anyone who questioned me later, so I’m giving that up.’
Marquez thought that over and said, ‘Tomorrow we’ll take a drive and you show me everything you know and everywhere you went with Enrique.’
Soliatano shook his head as a wave of emotion came over him and Marquez read it as real.
‘I know I fucked up, but my wife is six months pregnant and I’ve got a good job. I can’t go to jail.’
‘Just keep working with me. What about Enrique, did he know Matt Hauser?’
He shook his head.
‘How did you meet him?’
‘Somehow he got Enrique’s number and left this weird message and Enrique wanted me to listen to it. So I called him and he laid out the deal.’
‘Did Enrique know Hauser was paying you?’
‘No, but he wouldn’t have cared. We were good friends.’
The drill was he called Hauser after each delivery and he took photos and sent those to Hauser. He pulled out his cell and showed Marquez the number and Marquez entered it in his phone.
‘I’m supposed to call that number if we’re going to a river with fish. When my cousin calls me I call Matt and I give him a report and send photos.’
‘Let’s see the photos you’ve sent.’
They went through those and Marquez asked, ‘What about this last time? Where are the photos for that?’
‘It was too dark and it was fucked up.’
Marquez got it.
‘You called 911 from Enrique’s phone and then left him there. Is that what happened?’
‘I called 911 first.’
‘Then you left.’
‘I went down the road to wait to make sure they found him.’
‘Did you talk to any of the first responders?’
‘No, they drove past.’
‘Okay, let’s go back to dumping the fish in the river. He was driving the truck and you got outside to direct him.’
He nodded, emotion gathering on his face again. He felt responsible and guilty. He called 911 and did something with the phone afterward, possibly threw it in the river before he left Enrique and drove to where he could watch the first responders drive by. Or more likely he drove away and later went to the hospital. When he learned Enrique was dead he was so overwhelmed by grief that he hauled ass to the Bay Area and collected twice the usual payment from Hauser. Soliatano was more than he appeared to be.
I misread him earlier
, Marquez thought.
Perhaps he still had the phone and maybe there was a reason. Marquez asked about it again and Soliatano remained evasive.
‘I don’t know, man. I thought I left it with him, but maybe I didn’t. I don’t know where it is now.’
The 911 dispatcher thought she was talking to an injured man who kept repeating in Spanish that his arm was trapped and that was the same big guy standing across from him now. Marquez was six foot one, about the same height as Soliatano, maybe an inch or two shorter but close enough to be eye to eye as he rested a hand on Soliatano’s shoulder.
‘Hang in there. I’ll see you early tomorrow and we’ll talk as we drive. We’ll get this figured out. It would be a really good thing if you remembered tonight where the phone is. You think it all through, Emile, and I’ll see you in the morning.’
B
efore dawn the next day Marquez eased over to the curb a block down from Soliatano’s house and turned his lights off. A lone streetlight shone at the far end of the block; it was dark here and he sat there with the engine idling, then turned it off and thought about what he knew and didn’t. He tried to get at what he sensed and watched as lights came on in Soliatano’s house and the sky whitened in the east and cold seeped into the car.
Not long after the front door opened and Soliatano came out with a dog. Here was a guy with a specialized, highly skilled job in a manufacturing facility that paid him well, who had gotten involved with illegal fish stocking to make side money. It didn’t seem to mean anything to him that the pike would kill off everything else in the river or that he left Enrique Jordan trapped in the pickup. He showed some emotion yesterday but that was probably born of fear of having his life disrupted and less about feelings for Jordan.