Bad Penny (23 page)
Authors: John D. Brown
Tags: #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Thrillers & Suspense, #Crime, #Kidnapping, #Organized Crime, #Vigilante Justice, #Military, #Spies & Politics, #Conspiracies, #Thrillers
22
Carrots
THE FOOD WAS salads because Big Tomato was the first place they found with internet service advertised. It was a quick, serve-yourself, be-green, organic-grown, no-hormones, flax-seed-and-alfalfa soup and salad joint that looked like it was manned by a couple of hippies who had escaped from Boulder. The one guy greeted them like they were coming to Disneyland. He was probably so happy because they were growing fine organic bud somewhere out back. This was Colorado, after all. Land of the Libertarians. But they were clean, happy hippies. Guys in their forties who looked like they had learned there was more to life than getting stoned. There were things like showers and socks. And cash.
The place was well lit and decorated. The items in the buffet were numerous and fresh. There were some mega fiber brownies, but Frank passed over those for the tiny sweet corn muffins he loved. They paid the feed fee, piled chow on their plates, and settled into a booth at the back.
Frank consumed his plate full of mini muffins like it might be his last, which was a distinct possibility. Where he was headed, there were only two paths: death or prison. He didn’t think they had cute corn muffins in the hot place. They certainly didn’t have in any prison.
He might have a slim chance at another road. One that allowed him to go back to being the hard-working Walmart guy who was going to beat the odds and keep his carcass out of the slammer. But hoping for that at this point was like pinning your hopes on the possibility that a gold brick was going to fall out of the sky and thud into the ground at your feet.
Carmen went to eating her three plates of food like someone might approach digging a ditch—no talking, just methodical shoveling. Sam picked at his food in a pensive mode. Frank decided to multi-task. He opened the internet on Tony’s phone and googled “Goroza Colorado.”
He found nothing.
He googled “Colorado Jesus Goroza.”
Nothing again.
He googled “H. C. and Sons Colorado.” This time he got a hit. A few seconds later he was looking at a street view of a long building with tall cement walls in the south-western end of Denver. One end of the building was a loading dock with bays for at least twelve semis. In the middle of the building were a couple of small windows for what Frank assumed were offices. The other end of the building had a couple of windows high up in the cement wall. The building ended with a link to a railroad spur. This was a manufacturing plant of some sort.
Frank clicked in and read the details. It was not a manufacturing plant. It was a bakery that specialized in frostings, fondants, and frozen cookie pucks. He could buy five gallon buckets of frosting base. He could buy scones. He could buy bags of strawberry filling.
He showed Carmen the information. “You sure it was H. C. and Sons?”
Her mouth was full of food. She held a chicken drumstick in one hand, a roll slathered with honey-butter in the other. “Pretty sure,” she said around her food.
Frank couldn’t conduct any type of operation on pretty-sures and maybes. He googled the name of the company with “Goroza.” Nothing. He went back to the company’s site, found a telephone number and called it.
A woman answered, told him it was H. C. and Sons. Asked him how she could help.
Frank said, “This is Clarence Thomas from Findlay Foods. I’d like to speak with Flor.”
“Ms. Goroza doesn’t come in much. I don’t think she’s here.”
“What about her son?”
“Hector?”
“Yes,” Frank said.
“He’s in a meeting. Can I take your information?”
“Naw, it’s Flor I really need. But you’ve been helpful. By the way, they still living at that place in Aurora?”
There was a pause. Come on, he thought, give it up.
“No,” she said a bit suspiciously, “I don’t think they were ever in Aurora.”
“Hum,” Frank said like he was surprised and waited. He waited an uncomfortably long time. Usually that’s all it took, but this woman did not offer up Flor’s real place of residence.
“Sir, are you still there?” She sounded like she was on the verge of interrogating him.
Frank said, “Sorry, I accidentally put my phone on mute. I’ll try to catch her at home.” He said good-bye and hung up.
“Well?” Sam asked.
“There’s a Flor and Hector at H. C. and Sons. And the receptionist is a little cagey.”
“Drugs, slaves, and snack cakes?” Sam asked. “Are we sure these bad guys didn’t just steal those names?”
Frank thought about how Ed spoke Jesus’s name. Like it was some joke. It could have been funny to him because it was biblical. It could have been funny because it was also a stolen identity. “We’re not sure of anything,” Frank said. “But it’s what we’ve got.”
And what they had were a lot of truck bays. He looked back at the Google photo. “Look at that bakery. Look at all those trucks. With twelve plus bays for semis, that bakery is putting a lot of product on the road. A lot of trucks going and coming all over the place. I’m seeing lots of transportation.”
“That’s what factories do,” Sam said. “They make stuff and ship it out.”
“Which is perfect, isn’t it?” Frank asked.
“What are you talking about?”
“The Gorozas. You move drugs, slaves, weapons—who cares? It’s all the same. These folks are in the business of transportation. And they’ve got shipments coming and going all day long.”
Sam sat back, took a thoughtful bite of some kind of lettuce that looked like a weed.
Frank said, “How hard would it be to hide a couple kilos of meth in a five-gallon bucket of frosting? A couple kilos, cut and packaged into the tiny amount you need for a hit, that’s worth a couple hundred thousand dollars on the retail end. How many frosting buckets do you have to have?”
Sam looked up, did the math in his head. “Put one in every ten, twenty, fifty trucks, and depending on your schedule, you’re moving millions of dollars every quarter.” He brought his gaze back down from accountant land. “And who is going to suspect the snack cake man? Nobody’s going to look twice. It’s just another semi or white delivery van on the road.”
Frank turned to Carmen. “Do you have any other information about the Gorozas?”
“I know they’re part of the ring,” she said.
“Then we need to get down there pronto. We need more data. But we can’t show up looking like this.”
Frank felt someone behind him and turned. A little boy was standing up in the booth behind Frank watching them. His face was all sober like he understood ever word and was mulling it over. He was eating a baby carrot, munching it open-mouthed. In his little fist, he held the other half of the carrot. At the other side of the table, the boy’s older sister was hovering over a piece of pizza, watching Frank suspiciously. The mother was probably up getting food.
The little boy reached into a pocket and brought out little plastic robot car thing. He showed it to Frank, then set it between them on the back of the bench like it held the key to everything.
“Nice,” Frank said.
The little boy kept munching, then held his half-eaten carrot out to Frank. Tony had done that when he was a crumb cruncher—always trying to pawn his vegetables off.
The boy’s little hand was greasy with some sauce, wet with a bit of slobber. Frank figured why not? He dipped down and sucked the carrot right out of the boy’s hand and munched it with a bit of fanfare.
Half the boy’s mouth curled up in delight. He picked up another carrot from his plate and held it out. Frank sucked that one. It was like he was in a time warp, back at Kim’s house when Tony was just a kid.
Frank fetched one of his last two mini corn muffins. He held it out for the boy. “Try this,” he said.
The boy took it, looked at it.
“It’s tasty,” Frank said.
But the little guy wasn’t biting. Frank pointed to his older sister sitting on the other side of the table. “Maybe your sister wants it.”
The boy held it back out to Frank.
Frank took his muffin back. The boy went for more carrots. This time he came back with a handful, but instead of offering them to Frank, he took one and put it up his left nostril. It hung there like a tiny orange tusk.
Frank had shown Tony that move. He could see the scene clearly, Tony sitting on the kitchen table at Kim’s house, a UFC fight on TV in the background, some kid flying a kite outside.
A knot formed in Frank’s chest.
At that moment the mother returned.
“Mom,” the sister said, “he’s doing the booger vampire again.”
“Darius,” the mother scolded. “Take that out.” She looked at Frank. Looked a little worried. “Darius, turn around and leave the people alone.”
“This one’s going to be a handful,” Frank said, and that knot tightened.
The mother gave him a civil smile that said plenty.
“Bye, bye, Darius,” he said and turned around so the mom wouldn’t worry about the hard-looking man with the tattoos.
“Booger sticks,” Sam said. “A perennial favorite.”
“Part of a balanced breakfast,” Frank said.
The mother and the children went on with their meal. Frank thought for a moment about the mothers in Mexico, in El Salvador, in Honduras. Poor women sending their girls off to what they hoped would be a better life in the land of plenty. He thought about those girls in the basement of that house. He thought about that little boy with his carrots. He thought about Tony.
Outside the sun was still high in the sky, but he knew that was deceiving. They had miles to go, promises to keep. He looked at the stacks of dishes on the table, most of them from Carmen. “It’s time to roll. Next stop is Wally World.”
23
Gear
WHEN THEY PULLED into the Walmart parking lot, Sam said, “I’m a little shaky on what we’re doing. What’s the plan?”
“We’re going after the queen of spades.”
Sam licked his lips. He was having second thoughts.
“Carmen,” Frank said. “You’re sure Flor runs this outfit?”
“I am positive.”
“Before four a.m. tomorrow morning we need to have Flor in our possession. At the very least we need to have a gun to her head.”
“You’re going to take down the boss?” Sam asked.
“You got a better plan?”
Sam just blinked at him. “Don’t you need troops for this?”
“Not always,” Frank said. The facts were this was a hail-Mary at best. When did hostage exchanges ever go well? And why would a bunch of drug runners care about some old woman, even if she was a wife or mother? But Frank couldn’t think of anything else at the moment. He needed a card. He needed a big one. And this crap plan was the only thing he had up his sleeve.
Sam looked dubious.
“You don’t need to come, buddy. Right now you and Carmen and our men in the sky are all the troops I have. But this isn’t your problem. I don’t want to make it your problem. I can do this on my own.”
Sam nodded, looked out across the parking lot in thought. “There are little kids being raped and enslaved. Another boy who’s been kidnapped and who will likely be killed.”
“You can just drive.”
“Isn’t that aiding and abetting?”
“Technically,” Frank agreed.
Sam blew out a breath. It was one thing to help a guy chase down kidnappers; it was something entirely different to go on the offensive and start committing felonies.
Sam thought for a moment, then said, “A man went down from Jerusalem to Jericho.”
It took Frank a moment to understand the reference. “You sure?” he said. “You’ve got a wife and kids.”
“I do,” Sam said.
A beat passed. Then Sam’s faced hardened into resolve. “The Queen of Spades it is.”
Frank nodded. “I don’t need you guys to go in; you’re support.”
“I’d be happy to go in,” Carmen said.
Beautiful and tough as nails. “I’m sure you would, but let’s figure out the details first.”
“So why Walmart?” Sam asked. “What are we getting?”
Frank had a list. He sent Carmen to Girl’s Fashion and Sam to Electronics and Stationary. Meanwhile, he picked up a workman’s color of duct tape over by Paint. In Outdoors, it was bear spray, high-lumen LED flashlights, and some gun cleaning items. Gloves in Garden. A sledge hammer, a crowbar, a huge wrench, and a tool belt and toolbox to make it official in Home Repair. Then he went to the optical department to see if they had any zero prescription demo glasses they were sending back. They did. He selected a pair with a thick black plastic frame. He met Sam and Carmen at the front of the store by the cash registers.
Sam held a clipboard and the boxes for two BlueTooth ear pieces. He shrugged. “We’re going to need good communication.”
“We’re going to need some night vision as well,” Frank said.
“I don’t know where we might get that.”
“I had one of the guys check. They have a good monocular at a Walmart on the way to the bakery. Not the best, but better than nothing. They’re holding it for us.”
“And how much is that?”
“A little under $200.”
“You’re expensive,” Sam said. “You know that?”
“What are we up to? Like three hundred bucks?”
“With the gas for the van and plane, hotel, meals etc., I think the tab is now up to around four hundred twelve twenty-five. Plus I’m taking vacation time.”
“You’re sure you’re not off a few cents?”
“We can go over it. I’ve kept all the receipts.”
“Bean counter,” Frank said.
“Criminal,” Sam replied.
Carmen had the girl’s belt Frank had asked for, plus a toothbrush and little tube of toothpaste.
“That wasn’t on the list,” Frank said.
“It’s been two days,” Carmen said.
“Add the hygiene items,” Sam said. “Frank can use them when you’re done.” He turned to Frank. “I suppose me funding your adventure will qualify as aiding and abetting, won’t it?”
“Probably.”
He sighed. “My wife is going to kill me.”
“Maybe the Gorozas will take care of that for her,” Frank said.
“Thanks,” Sam said. “You’re a real confidence builder.”
They checked out. The Mormon cookie man, the vigilante girl, and Frank. Then they got back into the minivan and headed south. They picked up the monocular. Then they stopped at a Hilton Express hotel. They slipped into the business center when the gal at the counter went into the back room, and had Sam man a computer. Frank directed him to find the name of the big Colorado natural gas utility. A few clicks later they were at the Xcel Energy website. Frank then directed Sam to copy the image of the logo and slap it on some official looking document notifying homeowners of a survey in their area. He asked Sam to create another document with a number of rows divided into two columns—one for the name and address of the house and the other for “official notes.” Then he had Sam print out half-a-dozen copies of each. Frank slipped these documents into the clipboard, and the trio exited. They waved at the gal at the counter, then walked down a hallway and exited out the back.
The last stop was a feed store, which they found on Tony’s GPS. They bypassed the cat food and pesticides and headed directly for the work clothing section. They purchased outfits for both Sam and Frank. The outfits consisted of baby blue, button-up work shirts made from sturdy material and matching caps. Together with the tool belts and clipboard they’d gotten at Walmart it made a complete ensemble. Sam and Frank suited up in the store’s bathroom and came out looking like they maybe could belong to some utility company. Or backup singers for the Village People. They certainly belonged to something—no two men would walk around by choice looking like twinners.
They proudly walked out to the van in their stiff new shirts.
“Sam,” Frank said, “you left your tag in.”
Sam raised his arms to find it, but Carmen was quicker. She reached up and snapped the plastic thread. Then they got into the van and headed for the bakery.
On the way, Frank grabbed Sam’s diaper bag, found three diapers, and laid them on the floor. He took the P90, released the magazine and pulled it out. He made sure there weren’t any rounds in the chamber. Then he pulled off the barrel and receiver, slid out the bolt, removed the butt pad off the back of the gun, and removed the hammer pack.
He laid all the pieces on the diapers then opened the bottle of solvent, enjoying the smell of the familiar tang. He dropped a bit onto the rod brush and passed it through the barrel to get it working. Then he took one of Sam’s Huggies wipes and cleaned as much swamp crap off the various parts as he could. He broke out some Q-tips to get the crannies. Then he finished the cleaning by shoving a few patches through the barrel.
With the gun clean, he lubed the parts with a few drops of oil and a Q-tip. He put the gun back together and performed the function check. Then he went to work on the magazines. He took the rounds out of the one, removed the bottom and spring, and wiped it all down. Disassembled the second and wiped it. The feel of the gun, the smells—it calmed him, filled his mind with good memories. He’d worked with some of the finest people on this planet. He was working with a few more now, even if they were less skilled.
He put the magazines back together and reloaded both of them. The last step was to take the girl’s belt he’d had Carmen get and make a sling for the P90 so he could hang it about his neck and work hands-free.
The stripping, cleaning, and reassembly had taken a little under fifteen minutes. He now turned to the current operation.
In a proper raid, he’d have five or six guys. He’d have two or three snipers providing cover and surveillance. He’d have a number of men creating a perimeter to prevent surprises coming in from outside. He’d have more intel. But you played the hand you were dealt.
“Carmen,” Frank said, “your job is going to be surveillance. You watch the area; you look for any approaching danger. You’re the eyes in the back of my head. Sam, you’re the driver. Your job is to stay with the van and drive, not get all heroic.”
“What about Pinto and Heber?” Sam asked.
“Tell them to fly home. They don’t need to be dragged into this quagmire.”
“I don’t think you know Pinto and Heber.”
“I’m going in alone.”
“They’re not going to fly home.”
Frank sighed. “Then have them fly a pattern high above the property. We can use the eyes in the sky. Once I’ve seen it up close, I’ll make the final plan.” There wasn’t going to be much to it. It was a simple recon. One man in, look around, get out. Unless life happened. And life always happened.
Tony’s phone rang.
Frank looked down. It was Sam’s number, the phone Carmen had given to the children. He put the call on speaker so Carmen could hear. “Hello?” he said.
“Jockstrap.”
Frank’s mind missed a beat.
“Frankie?”
Sam slowed the vehicle. Carmen looked down at the phone like it was some creature that had crawled out of Hell.
“Did you pick up that whore?”
“How did you get that phone?” Frank asked.
“You were supposed to pick up the children, Frank.”
“I was on my way.”
“It wasn’t too hard to figure out where they took the snowmobile. Wasn’t too hard to find them.”
Frank’s heart sank. Why hadn’t he secured them? Why hadn’t he done that first!
Ed said, “I’m trying to work a deal, for you, buddy. But I think you’re trying to stiff me. Are you trying to stiff me, Frank?”
“That never crossed my mind, Ed.”
“So now I’ve got one part of the threefer myself. Did you get the whore?”
Frank looked at Carmen, who was looking at him with venom, and put his fingers to his lips. “Yeah, I got her.”
“This phone has a lot of contacts in Rock Springs. Has your number, Frank. Who’s Sam Cartwright? He your friend?”
“I borrowed his phone.”
“He helping you?”
“No. He’s back in Wyoming.”
“I see his wife’s number. I see pictures of kids. I see all sorts of things. Put me on speaker.”
He waited a second. “You’re on.”
“Hey, Mr. Cartwright,” Ed said over the speaker. “You got yourself a fine wife. Couple of kids.”
Sam sat up erect and rigid in the driver’s seat.
“You make sure Frank keeps his part of the bargain. You bring that woman in. Do you hear me?”
Sam said nothing. Carmen’s eyes flamed with anger.
“Answer me, Sam.”
Frank shook his head.
“Or should I call your wife and confirm your location?”
Sam looked at Frank. Ed was going to find out anyway. He motioned for Sam to go ahead.
“Yeah,” Sam said.
“Nice phone,” Ed said. “I’ll see you two tomorrow.” Then he ended the call.
Frank put Tony’s phone down.
Carmen moved from the front seat to the back like she was going to pick up the phone. Frank moved aside, but she moved past him. And then in a whirl, she was behind him, Jesus’s scalpel-sharp knife at his throat.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m not working with Ed,” Frank said.
“Liar,” she said. “It was all a ruse. All of it!” She pressed the knife closer and a sting raced across Frank’s neck.
“You and Ed can go to hell!”
He felt her bunch, felt her prepare to cut his throat.
Frank grabbed her arm. She struggled, but then he twisted around, grabbed her smaller hand in his, and twisted more until she cried out in pain and dropped the knife.
She stabbed at his eye with the fingers of her free hand and connected. The world flashed white and pain in his eye shot through his brain, but he held on. He reached out, felt her hair, grabbed it tight.
He blinked but could hardly keep his eye open to see.
Sam braked hard and moved to the side of the road. The deceleration shifted her closer.
She thrashed like a wild beast. Struck him in the face. Tried to dig out his other eye.
He grabbed her arm, prepared to head-butt her face, but he didn’t want to break her nose. So he twisted and brought her down hard in the aisle between the captain chair seating, slammed her to the floor on top of the P90.
She cried out, kicked at him.
“Carmen!” he yelled. “Stop! I’m not going to turn you in!”
She tried to bite his hand.
“Carmen!” he yelled, then rolled her over so she was face down and knelt on her back.
She yelled and struggled. But he was too heavy and the spaced too confined.
“Carmen,” he said.
“I won’t talk!”
“I don’t want to know your secrets!”
“You have no soul,” she said. “You’re vermin.”
He put pressure on her arm. She cried out.
“Carmen, if I wanted the bounty on you, I would have tied you up. You would be in the back bound hand and foot with Sam’s lady pink duct tape. But I, don’t, want, you. I don’t want the frigging bounty. We could have taken you in the beet field and then rounded up those children. But we didn’t. Because we don’t want that. We are
not
working with Ed.”
She took in a couple of ragged breaths. Then the tension in her body lessened.
“I’m going to let you up. Just calm down. We’re going to work through this.”
Her voice was full of grief and hatred. “They’re going to beat those children. They will kill one of them as an example. It will probably be the boy.”
“We’re going to stop that,” Frank said.
He waited a moment.
“I’m going to let you up. The gun’s underneath you; you could pick it up and shoot me dead. But I’m going to show you I trust you. That you have nothing to fear from me.”
He released his hold and got off her.
Carmen brought her hands around and just lay on the floor.
Frank eased back into the seat behind Sam.
“They killed everyone else,” she said. “Hunted them, tortured them to find out where the money was, then murdered them.”
He supposed she was talking about the members of her organization.
“But none of them knew.”