The Promise: An Elvis Cole and Joe Pike Novel (28 page)

Mr. Rollins

C
HARLES WITH A CRATER
in his head the size of a lemon and his eye all bugged out and bloody looked like the kid in the house, the dipshit Eli sent who started this mess. Mr. Rollins wanted to send Eli the picture, and say, y’see, motherfucker, this is
your
fault.

But he didn’t.

Mr. Rollins was angry, but the rules helped him stay true. He thought through his next move carefully.

“I’ll cover the two hundred thousand, Eli. I’ll take the hit to cover the loss, but it’s time to walk away.”

Two hundred thousand being the amount Eli paid for the explosives.

Eli, that asshole, furious.

“What loss you mean? The loss I take tomorrow because I cannot do my job?”

“Be reasonable. Let’s think this through—”

Eli, all over him.

“I would see four to six million tomorrow. Is this the loss you will cover?”

“A thing like this happens, here we are, the last second, you have to take notice. Like a warning, Eli.”

“Here is a warning. You knew my timeline. You knew the truck would have this money. Four to six million. Not today, not the day after tomorrow, only tomorrow. We need this explosive.”

“She’s lying, Eli. I’m telling you. We should walk.”

“You cover the four to six million?”

“There’ll be other trucks.”

“No. I am telling
you
. We get the material. My timeline ends
now
.”

Eli hung up.

Elvis Cole

H
ESS PACED THE ROOM
like a feral cat as Amy described their conversation.

“He said this didn’t have to affect our relationship. He seemed very agreeable.”

I said, “You have two hundred thousand dollars of his money, Amy. He’s wrestling with it. We’ll see.”

Hess stopped pacing, and looked at us.

“If he goes for it, this happens only two ways. They come here, or she goes to them.”

Jon shifted.

“Do I need to repeat myself?”

Hess ignored him, and went on with her pacing.

“The Sturges crew, Colinski, these animals are gunned-up killers. I don’t want them rolling into this neighborhood.”

Kelman shook his head.

“They wouldn’t go for it. Sturges and Colinski would take one look at this little street, and blow. Sturges might send a couple of his crew, but then what?”

I said, “The storage place. You already have people there. You’ll need more, but they can start locking it down.”

“What’s it like up there?”

I laid out a description of the entrance, the parking lot, and the gate, all of it surrounded by the wall.

Jon didn’t wait for me to finish.

“It’s sweet. A perfect kill zone.”

Hess frowned at him.

“You’re just lovely, aren’t you?”

Time was passing, so I pushed us forward.

“The material they want weighs four hundred pounds. That works for us. Amy can’t move it herself, so if they want it, they’ll have to come get it. She can tell Rollins to meet her in the parking lot with the buyers.”

I sat beside Amy, and walked her through the rest.

“Tell him what kind of car you drive. You’ve met, so you’ll recognize each other, right?”

She nodded.

“Say so. Don’t mention the cameras, but tell him about the gate and your gate card. When they arrive, you’ll open the gate and take them inside to your unit. Sound good?”

Amy nodded again.

“I understand.”

Hess came over and tried to be encouraging.

“You’re okay with this?”

“It isn’t rocket science.”

Jon laughed again, and I laughed, too, but my laugh sounded nervous.

Hess held out the phone.

“All right, Ms. Breslyn. Get some payback.”

Amy glanced up, and their eyes met. Anger flashed in Amy’s eyes, a volcanic fury that lived inside her and wanted to come out. I knew we were seeing the rage that she carried, and I thought maybe Hess now sought to release it.

I said, “Let’s call.”

Amy dialed, and sounded even more natural and convincing. Colinksi seemed reluctant at first, but Amy sold him.

She said, “Mr. Rollins, I hate to ask, but when our business is finished, after you have the material, would you help me get rid of his body?”

Hess quietly raised her hand, and gave me a silent high five.

Colinski agreed to the meet, and when Amy hung up, we raced to the location. Darrow drove Amy’s Volvo. Amy went with Jon, and Pike and I rolled together.

We arrived first, but first didn’t help.

Scott James

S
C
OTT HAD NEVER
been to the tenth floor of the Police Administration Building. The chief of police lived on the tenth. The three assistant chiefs and eight deputy chiefs were on the tenth. Down on the street and at the Academy, the tenth floor was known as Heaven, and the rulers of Heaven were God; the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost; and the eight apostles.

The tenth-floor halls were surprisingly plain. Most of the doors required key cards or codes to open, but Ignacio had a card and knew the codes, so opening the doors wasn’t a problem.

Scott was surprised when Ignacio called that morning. He ordered Scott to report to the Boat, in uniform, now. He called at seven-forty
A.M.
, and offered no explanation.

Ignacio only made one comment.

“You must have an angel.”

Ignacio met Scott in the lobby, took him up to the tenth, and introduced him to an apostle. Ignacio left after the intro.

Deputy Chief Ed Waters was a graduate of the University of Notre Dame. He had a Ph.D. from USC, and a list of law-enforcement accomplishments and credentials that went on for pages. Waters had testified before the Senate and the House many times, and was a likely replacement for the present chief when his term expired.

Waters currently topped the Counter-Terrorism and Special Ops Bureau, which put him above Metro Division on the LAPD Organization Chart. Since the K-9 Platoon was part of Metro, this placed Scott in Waters’s line of command.

Waters had smart eyes, a ruddy face, and a stern demeanor. He asked Scott to sit, and described a conversation between Hess and the chief. Hess had made it sound as if Scott helped save America from a national disaster, and took responsibility for any and all of his misdeeds.

“The chief and SAC Hess have to work together, so forget this business with the complaint. It’s dead.”

Scott felt uncomfortable, but managed a nod. Most of what Hess told the chief was lies.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll send out paper to the Metro C.O. and the commander of Internal Affairs. Your boss will be notified sometime this morning. When you report is up to him.”

Scott nodded again, but felt even more uncomfortable. He wondered if Waters believed all this bullshit.

“Great news, Chief. Thanks.”

He wanted to pick up Maggie as soon as possible. He wanted to turn out for roll call, and get back to work, but Waters didn’t dismiss him.

The deputy chief leaned forward, and laced his fingers.

“The SAC went out of her way to save you. I guess she knows she stepped over the line, and she’s embarrassed. Whatever the case, she went to bat for you, and delivered the goods.”

Scott felt himself flush, and wanted to leave, but all he managed was another nod.

“Still, I don’t know that I would’ve gone along with her, the way you did. I’d like to think my oath was more important, and my obligation to the department. But maybe that’s just me.”

Waters fell silent, and seemed to be waiting. Scott thought the man was probably measuring him.

“Sir, everything Carter charged in his complaint was true. I disobeyed Commander Ignacio’s order, and I withheld information from Detective Carter. These were my choices, and not the choices of SAC Hess or anyone else.”

The deputy chief’s expression didn’t change very much. Only a little.

“Why?”

“Because a sonofabitch was trying to kill me and my dog.”

Waters finally stood, and offered his hand.

“Welcome back, Scott.”

Mr. Rollins

M
R
. R
OLLINS
met Eli and his crew in the parking lot of a Pizza Hut, three blocks from the storage place, way the hell up in East Jesus a thousand miles from civilization. Eli, sitting there in his classic bronze 1969 SS396 with two of his guys. This freaking beautiful car was like wearing a sign: SEE ME!

Mr. Rollins had a rule. Draw no attention to yourself. Mr. Rollins was driving a stolen white Camry, the plates having been swapped with an identical Camry he found at UCLA. Toyotas and Hondas were the most common cars in Los Angeles. Silver and white were the most common colors.

Mr. Rollins leaned on Eli’s door. Eli was one of those tall, lanky guys with a mop of curly black hair.

“I told her what you drive, so she knows the car. She’s in a beige Volvo. You’ll see her when you turn in.”

“You are not coming with us?”

“I’ll be in my car, but we’re not going yet. Wait until I call. I’m gonna scope it out, make sure we’re cool.”

“Okay. We wait.”

“If it’s cool, we’ll pick up the gear, and maybe go take care of the body.”

Eli leaned sideways to peer up at him.

“You want to clean her garbage, clean. I am not a garbage man. Make more of your meatballs.”

The two idiots in his car broke out laughing.

Mr. Rollins walked away.

“Yeah. Laugh.”

Ten minutes later, he was on the roof of a nursery across from Safety Plus, studying the Volvo with his Nikon binoculars. A woman sat behind the wheel, but with the glare and glass reflection, he couldn’t see her. The woman he met in Echo Park was round and short. The woman in the Volvo sat low behind the wheel, which maybe meant she was short, or a tall chick, scrunched down.

Mr. Rollins decided to see. He gave Eli a call.

“We are sleeping over here, you take so long. We ordered the pizzas.”

Morons yucking it up.

“Looks good. Go meet her. And remember, you’re terrorists.”

“Where are you?”

“Going to my car. I’ll be right behind you.”

Mr. Rollins called the number he had for Charles. She answered before, and answered again.

“We’re here. Is that you inside?”

Amy said, “Yes. I’m here. I’ve been waiting.”

The woman in the Volvo waved.

“Great. See you soon. Ten seconds or so.”

Mr. Rollins put away his phone, and watched. Eli showed up a few seconds later, turned through the entrance, and stopped. Neither car moved for another ten seconds until Eli got out and spread his hands, his gesture saying, what, are you just gonna sit there?

Then Eli turned to climb back into his car, and all hell broke loose. Mr. Rollins didn’t stay to see it play out. He eased off the roof, returned to his anonymous car, and recited his list of getaway rules.

Go slow.

Stay in the right lane.

Brake early.

Mr. Rollins followed the rules, and got away.

Elvis Cole

T
HE HEAT
in the rental office built quickly with so many people crowded into a small space. The CRT team commander and Kelman were up front, near the glass. The CRT commander was miked to talk to the deployed elements. Darrow was closer to us, wearing a radio headset so he could speak with Hess. Special Agent in Charge Hess was in Amy’s Volvo.

The agents almost mutinied when the SAC announced she would be in the car, but Hess held tough, and told them to watch her back. The SAC sends who the SAC wants. She was beginning to make me smile.

Joe and I stood with Jon and Amy in the rear. Amy was draped in a bullet-resistant vest heavy enough to stop a rhino. Jon had ripped it from the CRT team vehicle.

Amy was in the office because she held the phone. If Colinski
called, he’d expect Amy to answer. She needed to see the field of play to know how to respond.

When the phone finally rang, everyone in the office looked at Amy except for the CRT commander. He kept his eyes on the Volvo.

“Hello?”

Amy listened.

“Yes. I’m here. I’ve been waiting.”

Amy raised her hand, and Darrow whispered to Hess.

“Wave. They see you. Wave.”

Inside the Volvo, Janet Hess waved.

Amy lowered the phone.

“They’re coming. He said ten seconds.”

Darrow repeated the information to Hess, and the CRT commander mumbled into his mike.

A bronze SS396 turned through the entrance, rolled forward, and stopped. Both agents lifted binoculars, and Kelman immediately called out identifiers.

“Sturges, driver. Front passenger, Remi Jay Wallach, he’s their blaster. One male in rear, can’t make him out.”

I squinted through the glass.

“I don’t see Colinski. Colinski isn’t in the car.”

I snapped at Darrow.

“Tell her. He isn’t with them.”

Darrow told her and asked what to do.

“What do we do, wait? He isn’t here.”

Sturges got out of his car. He stared at the Volvo for several seconds, and spread his hands, asking what she’s waiting for.

I pulled Darrow close, and spoke into his mike.

“Don’t get out, Hess. Colinski is watching. He’ll see you’re not Amy.”

Sturges turned to get into his car, and Darrow shouted, relaying Hess’s order.

“Take down! Now! Gogogo!”

I was a spectator. I watched from a glass box as others did the work.

On the command, CRT operators rushed forward from hides along the wall and behind our office, and an amplified voice shouted commands at the people in the car. Sturges dove behind the wheel, and hit the gas. I guess he thought he could get away, like they do in the movies. The car fishtailed sideways, the rear tires throwing smoke. Flashes reached from the back seat, a few at first, then a long crazy stream scribing a pointless arc. The front passenger door flew open. The passenger fell out or maybe he jumped, but either was just in time. The operators went to work with their M4s, killing the car and the people within. I knew the moment when Sturges was hit. His foot left the gas, and the slipping, sliding tires stopped spinning. His car lurched forward, and slammed into the Volvo with a dull thud.

The operators swarmed the car, proned the passenger who had fallen out, and secured the scene. I ran outside to check on Hess, but she was out of the Volvo and laughing before I reached her. I was proud of her. She really did well.

It was a good day. Amy was safe, and would get the help she needed. Hess came through for Scott. His suspension would go away, and he would return to the job he loved.

It was a good day in many ways, but it could have been better.

I promised Scott I would give him Colinski.

I didn’t.