The Night Watchman (24 page)

52

I
TOSSED MY KEYS TO
P
AM
. “Move the van. If it is a setup, they'll know you're here and will be coming for you. Get off the property and park across the street. If I'm not back in ten minutes, call 911 and get out of here.”

Pam hopped into the driver's seat. “What else can I do?”

“Pray.” I was out of the van and heading to the front door lickety-split. I slid my hand back and adjusted the Glock in its holster. I pulled out my wallet while I was on the hoof and got the cover-charge money ready.

Was Crevis fighting for his life right now as I was traveling at a turtle's pace to get to him? Was Katie filling Chance in on the whole plan as they tortured Crevis? I wished Helga had pushed me even harder in therapy.

Two goons covered the door at my approach. I made a mental note of what I would do if they didn't let me in. It involved some cane whacking and a little gunplay, but no matter what, I was getting to Crevis.

No problems at the door as I laid the cash down quick. I scanned the packed room. I didn't see Chance, but his office door was shut. Katie and Crevis were nowhere in sight. I looked toward the bathroom just as another club thug walked out and looked around. I'd try there first, but then I was bursting into Chance's office.

I pushed through the crowd, my pulse pounding to the beat of the music. I opened the men's room door as another patron came out. No one else was in the bathroom. I looked under the stalls and saw Crevis's feet cocked funky. He was down.

“Crevis!” I nailed the stall door with my shoulder, knocking it in.

Crevis covered himself up. “Ray! Use the other stall. I'm not done yet.”

“Are you insane?! Why didn't you answer the phone?”

“I'm not talkin' on the phone when I'm on the toilet. That's just wrong. Besides, I told you on the bug that I was going to the bathroom.”

“The bug went out.” I holstered my pistol. “Now hurry up!”

“Can you close the door, please? This is embarrassing.”

I slammed the door hard and smacked the wall. My adrenaline was spiking out of control. Maybe Kurfis was right and I really needed some meds, or I needed to slow down on the Jim and get some rest.

“Hurry up!” I considered taking the phone from Crevis, but if Chance saw me in the club and his hoodlums shook me down, they might find it. Crevis would have to get it back to the van.

Crevis finally finished. “The van is across the street. Get out of the club and meet me there.” I let him leave first and waited about a minute until I left the bathroom. I had made a huge mistake coming in here. Now I wasn't sure how to correct it.

I splashed some water on my face and regarded my pathetic countenance in the mirror. I had to be losing my mind. I'd just freaked out like a spastic rookie. My cell phone rang.

“I'm out, Ray,” Crevis said.

“I'll meet you there.” I opened the door and moved outside the restroom, scanning around. The crowd was heavy, pulsing with the maddening beat of the DJ. I made a beeline for the front door, which was about one hundred feet away. I kept my head down and tried to be inconspicuous. The cane didn't make that easy.

When I was about ten feet from the door, Chance Thompson cut me off.

“What are you doing in my club, Quinn?” His chest puffed out, and he worked his fists at his sides. He wasn't happy to see me.

“Just getting a look around. I have a lot of free time on my hands these days.”

Carl swooped in, his hulking frame eclipsing my view of the door.

“We need to talk,” Chance said. “Follow me to my office.” He pointed to his office on the other side of the floor.

Did he actually think I would follow him there? “I've had enough fun for one night. So I'll have to pass on your kind invitation.”

Carl slipped his hand underneath my left armpit, lifting me up. “You're coming with us.”

I drew my pistol and pressed it against his rock-hard stomach. “Over your dead body. Let go of my arm and get out of my way, or you'll become just a memory, scumbag.”

Carl and I locked gazes that must have communicated I was two seconds away from pulling the trigger. His eyes widened and he stepped back. He turned his body so I could head out of the club.

I kept the pistol close, so as not to draw any more attention than need be in the darkened club. I eased the Glock back in its place, no one around us the wiser.

Chance worked his jaw, as if he were chewing iron. “I don't know what you're up to tonight, Quinn”—he aimed a thick finger at me—“but get out of my club and stay out.”

I walked sideways, like a crab, as I passed them, not wanting to turn my back. A breeze blew through the open door. It felt great on my face. I passed the door goons, and Chance and Carl were about ten feet behind me.

“This guy is barred from the club,” Chance said, loud enough for me to hear him. “If you ever see him here again, deal with him, and then call me.”

53

P
AM OPENED THE VAN DOOR
at my approach, and I crawled into the backseat. Crevis was in the front. Katie wasn't around; I didn't want to call her. I'd be a little more patient this time. I felt like an idiot for moving too quickly with Crevis. But I couldn't bear one more person close to me dying in this investigation.

I drew a cleansing breath to calm my tattered nerves, so I didn't bludgeon Crevis about the head and neck for scaring me half to death.

Aiming my cane at Crevis's head, I said, “If you ever deviate from our plans again—be it a bathroom break or a heart attack—I will kill you myself. Do you understand me?”

“You were worried about me.” Crevis smirked. “You were afraid something was happening and you came to help. That's pretty cool.”

“I was worried about the integrity of the case, that's all. Don't do it again. Now give me the phone.”

Crevis handed me Chance's phone. I opened the back and removed the battery and the tiny SIM memory card, which was square, flat, and about the size of a penny. It stored all of Chance's call data, his address book of names and numbers, and his caller identification. His phone was useless without it.

I inserted his card into the port of the SIM card reader and copier I just bought. It resembled a pager, with a cord that plugged into my phone. It would copy Chance's card information directly to the extra phone I purchased for that purpose.

Now I would have access to his address book. But the best part was that when I used a cell phone containing his copied SIM card, his number would show up on the caller ID—a tool I planned to use. The red light blinked as the information was being copied, about a three-minute process.

My personal phone buzzed; Katie's number showed.

“Are you out?” I said.

“Yeah. It took a little longer than I thought. Chance took me to his office and had me ice my ankle.”

“Did he seem suspicious?” I didn't reveal my little meltdown, thinking she'd turned the tables on us. I tend to keep to myself the really embarrassing stuff I do.

“Not at all. I told him I would try to pick up a couple of days next week and let my ankle heal. He seemed to buy it.”

“Good. I'll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay,” she said. “Let me know whatever else I can do.”

“Katie,” I said before she could hang up.

“Yeah?”

“You did real good tonight. We couldn't have done this without you.”

“Thanks, Ray.”

She hung up just as the light on the SIM copier flashed green. Good to go. I removed the card from the port and snapped it back into Chance's phone. Now on to the rest of the plan.

I handed Pam Chance's phone and the audio wire, so I could monitor her conversations. She hopped out of the van, crossed the busy highway, and strolled through the parking lot. I watched her with the binos until she moved just out of my sight at the front door.

She said to someone, “Is your manager here?”

“I'm the manager,” Chance's gravelly bass voice came over the wire. He must have been keeping an eye out for my return.

“I found this in the parking lot,” she said. “Someone must have dropped it.”

“Hey, that's mine,” he said. “How'd it get out here?”

“I just found it out by the street.”

“Thanks, lady. I'd be lost without this.”

54

T
HE
D
UKE STARED DOWN
at me and seemed to be empathizing with my current plight.

I paced around my couch, putting all the last-minute details in my head. In three weeks' time, I'd gone from two dead investigations to now being on the cusp of blowing both wide open. I don't remember being this anxious as a cop. But I also don't remember anything this personal either.

I'd spent most of the afternoon wiring our location and making sure my equipment was ready. I could have used that time for more rest, but I was too amped for that to happen. I had called Mr. Savastio and told him that both Crevis and I were not coming into work. He wasn't happy, to say the least, but I couldn't care less. The Coral Bay Condos would survive a night without Crevis and me.

Crevis waited in the kitchen for my summons of his help. He did possess certain skills that even when I was healthy, I couldn't do—namely, mimicking voices. He'd been practicing all morning in preparation for this.

I was more nervous than anticipated. Everyone was in place. The plan had been made, and I promised myself I wouldn't spaz out like I did at Club Venus. I had the team I had, and I was going to trust them.

“Are you ready?” I said.

“Let's do it.” Crevis gave a thumbs-up.

I handed him Chance's cloned phone. Crevis made the first call.

“Hey, buddy.” Vitaliano's voice came through clearly. Because of the copied SIM card, the number Vitaliano would have seen was Chance's.

“We've got a problem,” Crevis said in a gruff, testosterone-mocking voice. “Meet me at Lake Eola Park by the amphitheater at eleven thirty. Don't tell anyone. We've got business to take care of. Don't call me back, and turn off your phone. We're being watched.” Crevis hung up right away.

“Nice.” I patted Crevis on the shoulder. “Now only a few more to go, and we can neuter some lions.”

At 11:00 p.m., Lake Eola Park was mostly deserted, with the exception of a small group of homeless men huddled at the small amphitheater's entrance directly on the lake, about a hundred yards north of where we were setting up. The sliver of the quarter moon peered down, as if it were winking at me, a hopeful omen for a successful hunt. The air was crisp and electric, almost alive.

I parked our van on North Rosalind Avenue less than a football field away from where I'd wired our location. I had chosen the concrete deck between the amphitheater and the grass park because it had a couple of benches and rows of palm trees around—open enough to film and see clearly, yet secluded enough to have a private meeting at night and feel comfortable.

Crevis helped me wire the trees with two cameras to look down on our meeting place; the audio was set near the benches. I could look out the passenger windows and get a good view of the square, as well as the illuminated fountain in the middle of the lake in the background but the wireless cameras provided the best observation point of the complex.

A black Cadillac coasted in off East Washington Street and eased up to the curb on North Rosalind across from the amphitheater. The driver turned off his lights. Judge Garcia, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and with a stogie embedded in his mouth, meandered over toward the benches where we were to meet. Just a few minutes later, Morton Connelly arrived in a sweet red BMW, parking on the street as well. The Lion's Den had a thing for fancy cars as well as fancy women.

Ben Scott showed up next in a silver Lexus. But the guest of honor, Michael Vitaliano, cruised in last—along with Gordon Kurfis—in Gordon's Suburban, a nice addition to the show.

“So what's all this about?” Mort said. I zoomed in on the pride, the old lions gathered together in the open.

“I don't know,” Judge Garcia said. “But I don't like it. We agreed that we wouldn't be seen together outside of the commissioners' chambers.”

Katie approached the group from the shadows with an armful of papers, right on time.

“Gentlemen, Chance will be here in a minute. He wanted me to hand these out to you before he arrives.” She gave each a sheet of paper with a picture of me printed on them.

I'm smiling in the photo. A nice touch, I thought.

“You are by no means to talk with this man,” she went on. “He knows about the land purchases and the Lion's Den. He's going to make a lot of trouble for us.”

“I already told Chance about this guy.” Vitaliano smacked my picture with the back of his hand. “We've talked about him.”

“Oh no,” I said, watching for Katie's reaction.

She paused. “Yes… but he's been digging more and has found out things we were worried about. He's been able to connect J & M Corporation to all of us.”

“How can that be?” Vitaliano tossed his hands up. “Chance gave his assurances. He made promises.”

“Like this, dirt bag,” I said in the van. “I made the connections just like this. Vitaliano helped me lock him in.”

“We were told there was no way anyone could connect us with that.” Judge Garcia pointed his gnawed cigar stub at Katie. “We were supposed to be silent partners. Chance better get here right now and explain this.”

I hadn't had more than a circumstantial link between J & M and Relk and the Lion's Den… until now.

“I don't think we should be talking about this,” Kurfis said. “I don't like the feel of this. Something isn't right.”

“I don't like it either,” Ben Scott said.

“Neither does Chance,” Katie said. “He's working on a solution right now, but what he needs is for you all to be calm… and quiet. This Quinn character can cause a lot of problems for us.”

“Tell me about it,” Mort Connelly said. “I didn't risk this investment to end up the subject of some grand-jury investigation. We'd better find a way around this guy, and I mean now.”

“I'm telling you all, stop talking about this.” Kurfis held his hands out like he was directing traffic. He scanned the area. “Chance wouldn't call us all here like this—not all together. We were all clear about that. This smells like a setup. And we don't even know who you are.” Kurfis pointed to Katie, who froze.

She turned her attention to the camera in a tree just above the fray and flashed a get-me-out-of-this look. “My name is Katie. I'm Mr. Thompson's personal assistant. He'll be here shortly to answer all your questions.”

“I agree with Gordon,” Ben said. “We all need to head home. Discuss nothing and meet with Chance one on one.”

“You can meet with me now,” Chance said as he and Carl emerged out of the shadows from the park.

“What's all this about?” Mort demanded.

I wanted to know the same thing; I hadn't called him. I wanted to trap the Lion's Den and then work my way to him, through them. This was not part of the plan.

“It's about all of you being morons,” he said. “I got Gordon's e-mail from his BlackBerry telling me he might be late here. I've been trying to call all of you ever since. And whose idea was it to meet like this, anyway?”

“Yours,” Vitaliano said, the others chiming in. “You told us to meet here and turn off the phones, that we were being watched.”

“You're all crazy.” Chance scowled. “This whole thing reeks of one person—Ray Quinn.”

“I love when they recognize my work,” I said to Pam and Crevis.

“And what are you doing here, Katie?” Chance said, more an accusation than a question. Katie pivoted and started toward the roadway. Carl snatched her by the back of her neck, pulling her toward him as he lifted a pistol from his waistband.

“That's it!” Crevis yanked open the van door. “I'm coming, Katie.”

“Crevis, wait.” I grabbed his shirt, but he was already three steps away and at a dead sprint across the street. “He's got a gun!”

“Call 911,” I said to Pam. I pulled my pistol and crawled from the van. “This is going to get ugly.”