G-Men: The Series (40 page)

“Guess we better ask her, man.”

“What do you two want from me?” I hissed. “I had nothing to do with whatever it was Jack was doing.”

“We know that,” Slash said, taking another swig. “But we also know that Mr. Big left in quite a hurry. He didn’t have a chance to wrap things up at the house, you know what I mean?”

“Not really,” I replied.

“Well, let me make it simple for you, Diamond. We bought something from Mr. Big the day before he booked out of town, paid his fuck buddy ‘Suzy-Q’ cash on the barrel for it. It was a joint effort with two other chapters, so there’s quite a bit of money involved, you see. Now, here’s our problem. The day they split, Suzy-Q never showed up with the key or provided the password needed to get our goods. I’m betting that info’s at your crib.”

“Are you the ones who tried to break in last month?”

“Yeah, unfortunately that fucking computer we grabbed didn’t have a damn bit of information on it. So, we need that information from you, little lady.”

“I have no clue about any key, I swear to God. How do you know that information hasn’t already been uncovered by the Feds?”

“You’re
fucking a ‘Fed,’
darlin’. If it’d been found, you’d be telling me that instead of asking me that, right?”

“No,” I replied angrily. “Slate doesn’t tell me shit. That’s the truth.”

“Well, we’re gonna see about that,” Darrell said, pulling my cell phone out of my purse.

I watched as he slid the battery back in. He powered it on and pulled up “G-Man’s” number from my address book. He sent Slate a text from my cell telling him to answer the next phone call he received. He powered the phone off, removing the battery once again and slipping it into his pocket.

Slash untied my wrists. I massaged them with my fingers to get the circulation going. My fingers felt numb.

Darrell pulled a track phone from his shirt pocket, punching in Slate’s cell phone number. Before he hit the ‘send’ button he instructed me on what to say. Again, the gun was flashed in front of me.

I nodded, as he handed me the phone.

“Sammie,” he said, his voice strained.

“Slate - listen to me please. Jack was in possession of a key and a password that Susan was to give it to her contacts at OMC the day they split. You have to tell me the truth - has this been found in any of the stuff the Feds found at Banion during their search?”

“No,” he said. “I’m being honest with you here. Nothing’s been uncovered that sounds at all like what you’re describing. Are you okay baby?”

“I’m fine, Slate, but I won’t be if I can’t help these guys. They’re not going to release me until you show up with the key. They mean business, Slate.”

“Tell me where to look, Sammie.”

My mind was racing. I had to think like Jack at the moment. “Give me a second,” I said, covering the mic on the phone.

“When and where was Susan supposed to meet your people to turn over the key?”

“Seven p.m. sharp at the corner of Eastern and Sixteenth.”

That was near the gym where Jack worked out daily, either before or after work. That was where he’d told Lindsey he was going after work. He’d then called me later on his way to the airport. He had a locker there at the gym.

“Slate,” I said, “you need to go to Sporty’s Gym on Baxter Avenue. Jack has a membership there. You need to get into his locker. If he wanted to hide something, that’s the only place I can think of where he might’ve put it.”

“Let me talk to Slash,” he said. I handed the phone to Slash.

Slash held the phone to his ear, rolling his eyes and grinning.

“You aren’t in a position to threaten me at the moment, asshole. Just think about this while you’re deciding whether being a Fed means more to you than seeing your baby born. I have nothing to lose if I get popped. I’m already going to serve more years than I have left on this planet. It wouldn’t bother me one bit to add murder to the list. You involve anyone else and it’s ‘bye bye’ to Diamond. You have one hour before we call back. Let’s hope your little scavenger hunt goes well.”

Slash ended the call and turned to me.

“You better hope your dude cares about you more than his career. He can’t have both.”

Darrell squatted down and tied my hands behind my back once more. Then, the two bikers exited the barn. I felt the tears well up, hoping that my hunch was correct and praying that Slate did care more about me than his career.

The puzzle finally fit. The key was to the storage locker in Fort Wayne, and the password was probably for the electronic gate that allowed access to the premises. They didn’t know that I knew the location only because of the past due bill that had arrived in the mail just today.

How had they gotten Slate’s truck? How would Slate get to the gym without his truck? I wondered where Slate was when I’d called him. I didn’t dare ask any or say anything other than what they instructed. I was sick of having that revolver waved in front of me.

This hour would probably be the longest of my life. Maybe it’d be the last hour of my life…. . .

^{chapter 53}

~ SLATE ~

The call ended with silence.

Fuck!

That son-of-a-bitch better not touch a hair on her fucking head. How’d this happen? How had I let some low-life mother fucker like Slash get one over on me? I’d been so freaking careful!

I knew immediately something was up when Sammie hadn’t made her doctor’s appointment that afternoon. I’d tried calling her cell phone a dozen times. It was turned off.

I’d raced from the doctor’s office to her house in my truck, breaking the speed limit the whole way. I’d noticed a pick-up truck just like mine parked by the side of the road a couple of miles from her house. I stopped and called the plate number in to the locals. It’d been reported stolen that morning. That’s when the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

When I arrived at her house, I used my key. The doors were locked, the alarm had been set. I checked every room in the house and the garage. Her car was gone, so was she. I checked the camera video on the computer. The only activity was her leaving for the doctor’s appointment at 2:12 p.m. She’d been running a little late, it seemed, for a 2:30 p.m. appointment.

I had sat down at the bar in the kitchen to try and get a handle on the situation. That’s when my phone beeped that I had a text message. It was Sammie. I breathed a sigh of relief until I read the text. Several minutes later my cell phone rang. The caller I.D. was from Missouri; some fucking track phone. It was then I realized that Slash had gotten to her.

I listened to the message that Slash had instructed her to give me. The whole time, I was trying to figure out where she could be. I absently flipped through the mail she’d thrown on the kitchen counter. I listened to her instructions and then asked her to put Slash on the phone.

The mother-fucker knew he had the power at the moment and so did I. I listened to him yammer on as I picked up one of the envelopes that Sammie must’ve opened. It was a past-due bill that was addressed to the rat bastard. The letter folded up next to it told me exactly what type of key Slash was looking to find. It was why he’d attempted the break-in a few weeks back…a deal gone badly.

What kind of a stupid fuck doesn’t pay a storage fee? Probably one who already has the money in hand and is on the run.

I was glad it hadn’t been paid. I now knew where the goods from the deal gone badly were located.

I got into my truck and hauled ass to the gym. There was a young chick working the desk. I turned on the charm and showed her my badge, explaining that I needed to get into Jack Dennison’s locker; that he was a fugitive from justice. She started some shit about a search warrant being needed. I told her she watched too much television. Federal agents didn’t need search warrants, only local authorities. She bought the story and got the master key for me.

Once inside his locker, I emptied his gym bag out and there it was: a small envelope containing a key. There was a piece of paper wrapped around the key that had a pass code written on it. More than likely, the pass code activated the electronic gate on the premises.

I took his gym bag with the rest of his stuff in it and headed out. I had another twenty minutes before I would get the next call. I got on my phone and called Taz. I needed his help. I trusted him more than anyone.

The call back came in exactly one hour to the minute later. It was Slash.

“So is your Betty in luck, Slate?”

“I have the fucking key,
Delbert
,” I said, putting the emphasis on his given name. I guess if I’d been named ‘Delbert,’ a name like ‘Slash’ would’ve suited me better too.

“Fuck you, pig,” he sneered. “You don’t wanna piss me off when I have your girl here no farther away than my hardened dick, right?”

My blood boiled at the thought of that piece of shit slime ball touching her. I needed to keep my cool
for her
.

“What’s the deal, Slash? I give you the key, and you give me Sammie?”

“Not quite, Slate. There’s a matter of trust here - or should I say, mistrust? Here’s how this is gonna go down. I’ll give you a drop-off location for the key, which I presume has a password with it?”

“Yep,” I answered stiffly.

“Okay. Once we determine that no other feds or locals are involved and we collect the goods without incident, you’ll get a phone call giving you the location on where you can hook up with your girl.”

“What makes you think I trust you?”

“You really have no choice, dude.”

I wasn’t sure when Slash said ‘we’ how many others that meant.

“Don’t worry about her, Slate. I’m going to be right here with her the whole time, making sure she’s safe and doesn’t get frightened in the dark. Once the others give me the all clear, I’ll be in touch with you letting you know where you can find her, got it?”

“Let me talk to her first.”

I heard some muffled conversation, then Sammie’s voice on the other end.

“Slate - did you find it?”

“I sure did, baby. You did great. I’m going to do everything he wants so that you’re safe. Do you trust me?”

“You know I do.”

“That’s my girl. Just hang tight and don’t do anything to piss them off, okay?”

“Yep,” she said with a tired sigh.

“I love you, Sammie.”

“I know you do, Slate.”

Slash got back on the phone, giving me instructions on where to drop the envelope with the key inside. It was about sixty minutes from Indianapolis. I told him I was leaving now. He said he’d check my progress in an hour.

^{chapter 54}

~ SLATE ~

I was on schedule for the drop off. I was about fifteen miles from the designated location. My cell phone rang. It was Taz.

“Everything’s in place in Fort Wayne,” he confirmed. “We have plain clothes local officers and U.S. Marshalls. The owner of the storage facility has opened up the empty storage locker next to the one Susan rented. They’re stationed inside, ready and waiting.”

“Great job,” I said. I never had to worry about Taz fucking up. He always came through. “What about Garnet?”

“She’s in the car sitting next to me. A bit reluctant, but I used my powers of persuasion to get her on board.”

If I hadn’t been so concerned about Sammie, I’d have found a bit of humor in that. Taz had, evidently, let her blow him.

“Does she have any idea where they might be holed up?”

“Given the location of the drop-off point and its proximity to Fort Wayne, she’s pretty sure it’s an old deserted farm that the bikers used to rent in the fall for their annual ‘bike-in.’ It’s near Kokomo.”

“My drop off point is just south of Marian,” I said. “I’m ten minutes away. Where are you?”

“We’re on Route 31. She thinks she might be able to remember the location once we get near Kokomo. It’s all we’ve got, bro.”

“Keep with it, Taz. I’ll be back in touch as soon as I complete the drop.”

My cell phone rang about thirty seconds later. It was Slash, asking my current location. I told him. He then gave me turn by turn locations to the exact point of drop off. I followed his directions, reporting various landmarks and intersections back to him so that he knew I was following his instructions. He must know this area fairly well.