The Breakthrough (17 page)

Boone shook his head. “Should have started with that, DeWayne. Sounds like Johnnie’s out ahead of this, working his own deal. He’s gonna wind up serving less time that you.”

“Hold on! I can tell you things about him!”

“No need,” Jack said. “We’re getting the whole story from him. How different can your accounts be?”

“Way different if he’s saying this was my idea! The idea came from Pitts. He’s the one who introduced me to Bertalay. Johnnie works for him.”

“Well, Chief Drake,” Jack said, turning back to the table, “maybe we’re being a little hasty.”

Boone returned to the corner behind Mannock, who kept stealing urgent glances at him over his shoulder. Jack turned his chair around and sat facing DeWayne with his legs crossed, as if he had all day. “Johnnie never said a word about anybody but you. Says you were the mastermind. Who’s Pitts, anyway? Tell us about him, and maybe
you’ll
get a little consideration.”

“I ought to get a lot of consideration, because Pitts is the guy.”

“Okay, slow down and take it from the top. Where did you meet this Pitts?”

DeWayne Mannock suddenly sat up, leaned forward, and seemed to be boring in on Jack Keller. “Pitts is a regular—well, sort of—at the Lucky Day.”

“Full name, and what’s ‘sort of regular’ mean?”

“His player’s card just reads J. Pitts. I think his real name is Jasper, but he goes by Jammer.”

Boone turned to the mirror. “Johnson, you on that?”

“He says yes, Chief,” Ronette transmitted.

“What’s he look like?”

“Big old fat guy, funny-colored hair—like dyed orange or yellow—and not much of it. Smart guy. Knows a lot of stuff. Good player.”

“Regular or not?”

“Couple of times a month for two or three days at a time, but that’s it. Seems he likes to play and plays when he can, but he’s a world traveler.”

“Yeah? Where?”

Mannock shrugged. “Everywhere. Always talking about other countries.”

“What’s he do?”

“I always thought he was like an importer/exporter or something like that. In a way, I guess he is.”

“I’m going to quit asking questions here, DeWayne. I want you to tell me everything you know about this man, why you say the kidnapping was his idea, his relationship with you and Johnnie Bertalay, all of it. It’s your only chance to get a year or two off your sentence.”

“I shouldn’t have any sentence! I hardly did anything!”

“Convince us. And help us get Max back. Otherwise, you’re going to prison for a long, long time.”

“I don’t know where Max is! I swear. If I did, I’d tell you.”

“Tell us everything you do know. And make it fast.”

“You sure I don’t need a lawyer?”

Boone caught Jack’s eye.
Please, no.
This was the last thing they needed right then. Jack gave Boone a nod, as if he should trust him. Boone did trust him, but he didn’t like the way Jack started.

“Truthfully, DeWayne, I do think you need a lawyer. I’ve told you that from minute one. And you know too that the second you tell us to get you one is the instant this interview ends. We walk out, and the next person in here will be whoever the court appoints as your public defender. That’s your right, and of course, at some point you’re going to have to be defended.

“Now here’s the thing. You don’t know if Johnnie’s lawyered up yet or not. Neither do I. All we know is that if you don’t get on with your story, his is going to be the only one out there. And that’s not looking good for you. So, you want your lawyer right this minute, or when you need him for the court case? We can’t be listening to your side of this, even if you’ve decided to finally come clean and tell us everything, if you’d rather be represented now. It’s totally your call.”

“I want to talk.”

“Then talk.”

“Okay, I’ve known Jammer for a few years, just from the casino, you know. I used to get a kick out of hearing him talk. He wasn’t one of those loud ones who brag about where they play and how much they win and all that. He’s just one of those guys who knows a lot about a lot of stuff and enjoys answering questions. People just figure he knows best, you know? They’ll be talkin’ sports or politics or famous people or anything, and pretty soon they get around to seeing what Jammer thinks. And he says it so smooth and smart-like, nobody argues with him.

“Well, about two years ago he seems to take a liking to me. Starts asking me about myself, my prospects, my plans. I didn’t even know what prospects were. I was kinda faking it, telling him I hoped to be a floor man someday, like Goose. Those guys don’t live on tips. They have actual salaries. Not big ones, but any salary sounds good to me. Something regular with benefits the company pays for, all that.

“So Jammer’s kinda pushin’ me. He’s saying, ‘Really, that’s what you want to do with your life? Spend it in a casino in a blazer making a chump’s salary?’ I told him no, that what I really wanted to do was win the lottery, and he says, ‘Now you’re talkin’.’

“I thought he meant he knew a way to do that, but he just meant that that kind of money was what he was talking about. He said everything else is chump change. He asked me did I know how much he was worth, and ’course I said no, how would I know that? And he said, ‘Would you believe eight figures?’

“I was embarrassed, ’cause I didn’t even know what that meant. I knew seven figures was a million, but I couldn’t have told you what eight was, not off the top of my head.”

“At least ten million,” Boone said.

“Yeah, exactly, I know that now. So a guy tells me that, he’s gotta know I’m gonna wanna know where he gets that kind of money. He tells me he’s in the international people business. I have no idea what that means. I’ve heard of people who find executives for companies—”

“Headhunters,” Boone said, trying to move Mannock along.

“Yeah, like that, so that’s what I’m thinking for a long time. Every time Jammer comes in to play, we get a little time to talk. One day he says, kind of like out of nowhere, ‘Do you know there are people willing to pay a million dollars for the right child?’

“Like a dummy, I say, ‘For what?’ He tells me he’s heard of people who want a certain kind of kid. They know exactly what they want. They can’t have their own, and they’re rich, of course, and they decide they want a kid a certain age, a certain skin color, hair color even, nationality, all that. And you know, we’re standing there talking about this, and I have no idea he’s talking about his own business. I don’t know why. I just never put it together. I’m like, ‘No way!’ and he’s like, ‘Really.’ And I’m still thinking it’s just smart Jammer talking about stuff most people don’t know about.

“Then, later, like maybe a year, he asks me have I been thinking about what we talked about. And the thing is, I hadn’t. Not really. It was strange and all that, and I thought about it for a few days, but million-dollar kids is not the kind of thing I think about for long, you know?”

“We’re still with you, DeWayne,” Jack said. “You’re doin’ good. Keep going.”

“Well, one night he asks me what am I doing on break, and it’s perfect timing because somehow I got a double break, an hour right at dinnertime. He takes me to the buffet, buys my dinner, and starts right in. He tells me, ‘You know I pay a 15 percent finder’s fee when I provide a child.’ I almost wet my pants; I really did. It all kinda hit me at once. He’s in the people business. Rich people pay a million bucks for the right kid. And he provides ’em!

“I couldn’t hardly eat my food ’cause, besides finally putting this together in my head, you know what’s the only thing I can think about then.”

“The 15 percent,” Boone said, his stomach churning at where Max could be right now. The only silver lining in this story is that if Max was worth that much to someone, he was likely safe and not bound for the sex trade.

“The 15 percent!” DeWayne said, pointing at him. “I didn’t know what eight figures was right off the top of my head, but I dang well know what 15 percent of a million bucks is. And I wanted it. He had me, hook, line, and sinker, whatever that means.”

“Lured you in.”

“Sure did. And he was pretty smart about it, because once he got me interested, you know, he sort of backed off. Every time he came in I asked him about it, and he said he wasn’t sure he should keep talking to me about it, because keeping things totally quiet was everything in his business.

“I told him I’d swear on my mother’s grave—”

And sell your own son,
Boone thought.

“—to get in on action like that. And maybe the third or fourth time I saw him after that, when I asked how could I get in on this deal, he said, ‘I doubt you even know the type of a person I’m looking for.’ So I asked him; I says, ‘What kind?’

“Well, he told me he had a lot of calls for American boys, preferably blond.”

“Hold on,” Boone said. “You’re telling me he knew you had a son who fit that description?”

“No! That’s just it! I think it was just one of those, ah . . .”

“Some coincidence.”

“Yeah, one of those.”

“Go on.”

Detective Antoine Johnson introduced himself to Hammond Lieutenant Lefty Tidwell over the phone.

“Tell me the brilliant DeWayne Mannock has already sung for his supper,” Lefty said.

“Oh, you know Keller. He and Drake are scraping it off him an ounce of flesh at a time. Slow but sure. Hey, we need all we can get on this Jasper ‘Jammer’ Pitts.”

“Way ahead of ya. One of my guys was listening over all the stuff we recorded when Keller and Drake were here, and we knew you’d eventually need that guy. He’s not listed in any phone books or online, but we got an address from the Lucky Day. I can fax you the sheet we got on him.”

Antoine gave him the number. Within minutes he knocked on the interrogation room door and handed the printout to Jack.

Jack glanced at the sheet and handed it to Boone as DeWayne Mannock continued.

“Jammer told me there was a big, um, he called it a market, a market for fair-skinned Caucasian boys, especially blonds, from America, Canada, and Scandinavia.”

“Hold on a second, DeWayne,” Boone said. “Take five.”

“C’mon, man,” Mannock said. “I’m tryin’ to be cooperative here so I can get goin’. They’re holding that car for me, ya know.”

Boone held up a hand as he speed-read the printout to himself.

Jasper Manchester Pitts

DOB: January 23, 1943

Height: 6’2”

Weight: 265

Hair: Auburn

Eyes: Gray

Sales manager, Jade Fortune Import/Export Enterprises, Bangkok, Thailand, 1991–1999

Current: Founder/CEO/President Chu-Hua Children of the Globe Placement Services, 1999–present

Home & business address: 1 Willow Circle, Clarendon Hills, Illinois (DuPage County) 60514

No record, no priors, no warrants

Boone stuck his head out the door. “Antoine, let’s get him in here and get a warrant to search his home.”

As Boone returned to his station behind Mannock, DeWayne squinted at him. “Who? Whose home?”

“Everybody’s throwing you under the bus today, DeWayne. You say you were just the pawn, but we’re getting a whole different picture. Let’s wrap this up so we can get you into something a little more comfortable and a lot more orange.”

“I’m not going to County! Unless you make up somethin’ to pin on me, I’ll be back to that dealership before dinner.”

“Then you’d better get to the point and start putting your finger on the bad guys. Somebody’s going down for this, DeWayne, and right now the smart money is on you.”

“All right, listen; so Jammer, he keeps putting me off, you know? Even though I tell him I got the perfect kid for him. I’m askin’ him is he serious about somebody goin’ a million bucks for these kids and would there really be a rock and a half in it for me, and he’s saying, ‘No, no, DeWayne, you don’t really want to get mixed up in this.’ I tell him I do, that I’d do anything for a hundred and a half, and he says, ‘Including giving us everything we need and then keeping your mouth shut?’ and I’m saying, ‘You know it, man.’”

Boone moved next to DeWayne, towering over him. “Just curious. Did you tell him this was your own son?”

“Not then. That came later. Actually Johnnie figured that out.”

“And Pitts had no problem with that?”

Mannock shook his head. “He just said he wanted someone not too many people would care about. You know, if the kid is well-known—”

Boone slowly closed his eyes and was glad his sidearm was not allowed in the interrogation room.
Someone not too many people would care about?

“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” Jack said. “You said Jammer introduced you to Bertalay. Walk us through that.”

“Well, Jammer is still putting me off. I can’t believe it. I’m no smart guy, but pretty soon I catch on that he’s just making sure about me. He wanted me to point him to a kid he could deal, but he wanted me to understand that this was serious business and to convince him I was trustworthy. I musta finally done that, ’cause finally, after months and months of dancin’ around it, he tells me he can cut me in on a deal. He’s got a live request for just the kind of kid we’ve been talking about; he’s got what he called an, uh, extraction specialist—that’s what he called Johnnie—and we’ve got to all meet and talk this through so he can decide if it’s doable.”

“So, where did you meet?” Boone said.

“At a coffee shop in Burr Ridge, right off the expressway.”

“Here in Illinois, in DuPage?”

“I don’t keep track of which county I’m in, but yeah, I guess. Jarvis’s Cafe. I remember because I missed it a couple of times and had to keep gettin’ back on the expressway and trying different exits.”

“We need everything you can remember about that meeting,” Keller said.

“And then I can go?”

Boone stepped back to where DeWayne would have to wrench around to see him. Boone had a perfect view of Mannock’s face in the mirror and studied him for tics and tells that would indicate when he was lying or rattled.

Jack leaned forward again, hands flat on the table, his face inches from Mannock’s. “DeWayne, you’ve been doing okay up to now, but you need to hurry. You don’t want the other guys’ stories on the record before yours; you know why?”

Mannock shook his head.