The Promise: An Elvis Cole and Joe Pike Novel (27 page)

Elvis Cole

T
HREE HOURS
and twenty minutes after I left Janet Hess in a Hollywood parking lot, we met again in a different parking lot, this one in Silver Lake. A street agent couldn’t have made it happen, but Hess was the SAC. She presented me with a signed, notarized agreement from the U.S. Attorney’s office. The agreement stipulated in writing the assurances and protections I’d asked for. Amy Breslyn was safe.

Despite everything between us, I found myself liking her.

“You’re all right, Hess.”

“Don’t get carried away.”

“What about James?”

“Done.”

I found myself liking her a lot.

Hess wanted to see the video, but she hadn’t come alone. She arrived with six ATF agents in three cars, and an ATF Crisis Response Team. The CRT team was the ATF’s version of SWAT, and rolled up
in a large, black Suburban. We were surrounded by agents in a parking lot.

I said, “Here?”

Hess led me away from the others to her G-ride. I opened my laptop, and resumed the video from the pause.

Amy stepped back as she opened the door, and Mitchell walked in. Hess recognized him instantly, even when all she saw was the top of his head.

“Fucker. Russ, you bitch.”

“You’ll see his face in a few seconds.”

“I know who he is. Asshole.”

When we reached a point in the video where Mitchell mentioned Rollins, she stopped me.

“Rollins is Colinski?”

“I think so. He’s the man James and I saw at the house.”

She shook her head, angry and disgusted.

“Stupid Russ. You idiot.”

“You can’t have the laptop, but I’ll give you the video. He lays himself out, how he set up the deal, what they’re selling, everything.”

She turned away.

“I want it as soon as possible.”

“You got it.”

We got into an ATF car with the CRT commander. One of the ATF agents drove, and Hess sat in front with the driver. They wanted to see Amy’s house.

I sketched out what I knew as we drove up, mostly repeating what I’d heard Amy and Mitchell say, and describing Safety Plus. The CRT commander bombed me with questions about Amy’s storage unit, and ordered a second CRT team deployed to Safety Plus. He told Hess to roll out a Bomb unit.

I said, “The explosives are gone. I took them.”

“Where are they?”

“Under my deck. I took them home.”

We cruised past Amy’s house and Jon’s Rover. The CRT commander eyed the Rover as we passed.

“We’ll have to get him out of here.”

I said, “He’s watching out for her. He’ll stay.”

“This is for his safety.”

“He’s staying. Me, the Rover guy, and my partner, we’re downrange on this, and we’re calling the shots. Make your peace.”

Hess turned to the CRT commander, and backed me.

“They’re downrange. Let’s go a step at a time.”

Back in the parking lot, Hess and I got into the Suburban with the CRT commander, a CRT crisis negotiator, and a red-haired ATF agent named Darrow. Amy’s willingness to cooperate would dictate how they dealt with Mitchell and Colinski. We couldn’t work out a plan until we knew whether Amy was willing and able to help, and we couldn’t know this until we faced her. Amy’s response was critical. Hess looped in Pike and Stone via radios, and laid out how she wanted to approach Amy. Jon cut her off, told her he would deal with Amy, and hung up.

Hess said, “What the fuck?”

I said, “Temperamental.”

SACs aren’t used to being cut off.

I touched her arm.

“We got you this far, Janet. Trust him.”

I left them a few minutes later, and drove back to Amy’s. It was still dark. I parked three houses below, facing uphill. I could see Amy’s house, but not Jon’s Rover. Pike was higher, looking down from above. I wondered if Amy was dreaming.

The sky was lighter when Hess arrived. A second ATF car appeared, and parked below me. The sun rose, neighborhood residents left their homes, and the dawn brightened into a full-on day.

A few minutes after seven, the radio popped.

Jon said, “Five or less. She’s getting ready.”

Amy was about to leave the house, drive to her storage space, and finish a device with which she would end her own life. I wondered what she was feeling.

Hess spoke from the radio, responding to Jon.

“Don’t fuck up.”

I wondered if Amy felt anxious or scared, and if she was having second thoughts. The Amy I knew wasn’t. My Amy didn’t want to die. She was smart, strong, and determined, and she had arrived at a course of action that seemed rational to her. A broken heart could do this.

Jon appeared, walking down from the Rover. He stopped at the steps, and looked up toward her house.

I couldn’t see Amy because of the angle, but she would be outside by now, and on her way down. Amy needed to finish the jacket quickly, so she was probably running through a mental checklist of the remaining work.

Jon started up the steps, and then he was gone.

Amy wouldn’t see him at first. She’d be lost in her thoughts, checking off the rational steps that led to her rational death, and each of those steps would make perfect, inevitable sense.

Until she saw Jon.

Everything would change when she saw him. Jon would offer a different path.

J
ON WAS WITH HER
about fifty minutes before he called.

“C’mon up. We’re good.”

Hess and I went, along with the red-haired agent, Darrow, and a tall, athletic agent named Kelman.

Here we were, all these strangers, some with badges, invading her world, and hitting her with the cold-water truth that much of what she’d been told and believed were lies.

Amy was emotional at first, but she seemed to take comfort in Jon. He sat near her on the couch. Hess and I sat opposite them. Darrow and Kelman searched the house while we spoke.

Amy didn’t appear suicidal or unstable. People with such problems often don’t, but her responses were clear and intelligent. She understood what was happening, and was processing the new truth of her situation.

I showed her the sketch of Royal Colinski and his mug shot.

She said, “That’s Mr. Rollins. He was at the house.”

Hess showed her a picture of Mitchell. Amy identified him as Charles Lombard.

Hess told her about Eli Sturges and his relationship to Colinski, and asked about the missing explosives. Amy’s answer surprised us.

“I don’t have any more. The material you’re talking about isn’t real.”

Jon leaned back so she couldn’t see his face, and flashed a huge grin. She’d already told him.

I was more doubtful.

“The material in Echo Park was real. The putty I found with the vest is real.”

She nodded.

“Yes, that material is real. I had forty-eight pounds of live material. The remainder is material we make for training purposes. It looks and feels the same, but it’s chemically inert.”

Jon grinned.

“Play-Doh.”

Darrow was back in the room.

He said, “Did you think you could fool these people?”

“No, sir. I could’ve taken more of the live material, but I didn’t want to risk so much falling into the wrong hands.”

Jon laughed aloud this time.

Hess said, “Where is this material, Amy?”

Amy glanced at me.

“In the unit next to the one you were in. I have two units. Side by side.”

She gave Hess the key card and a lock key. Hess dispatched two agents and a CRT team with orders to secure both units and their contents. I realized Amy was telling the truth when she told us the missing material was harmless. Maggie would have alerted at the
second unit if the explosives were real. She hadn’t been trained to find bombs that couldn’t explode.

Hess checked her watch. Time was a factor, and the clock was running.

“Okay, Amy, help us out here. How do we get from here to Colinski and Sturges? How does the deal unfold?”

Amy sketched out the steps. They matched with what I already knew. Rollins was supposed to transfer funds into a foreign account this morning. He would notify Mitchell when it happened, and Mitchell would notify Amy. When Amy confirmed the transfer, she’d take Mitchell to the hidden stash, and Mitchell would arrange the handoff to Colinski and his buyers.

I said, “How do you check the account? Your computer?”

“Charles is supposed to call.”

She still called him Charles.

Hess said, “Let’s see. Maybe you’re rich.”

Amy opened her computer, and signed into her account. A few seconds later, she shook her head.

“No. Not yet. You can see.”

Darrow sat beside her, and studied the screen.

Hess leaned toward her again.

“What did you mean, you’ll take Charles? Are you supposed to pick him up?”

Amy frowned vaguely, as if they’d never discussed it.

“No. He’ll pick me up. He’ll come get me, and I’ll tell him how to get there. He doesn’t know. I didn’t want him to know, in case he got ideas.”

Jon grinned, and shook his head.

“Awesome.”

I thought about Mitchell for a moment, and turned to Hess.

“Will Mitchell go hard or easy?”

“Easy. He’ll flop like a fish. I want him off the board fast.”

Jon said, “Be advised.”

Loud.

Everyone turned. Jon was wearing his Delta face.

“Just so we’re on the same page, Ms. Breslyn isn’t on the board. She will at no time be exposed to these people when they aren’t in custody.”

Hess said, “Absolutely not.”

Darrow’s phone buzzed. He pushed to his feet when he saw the message, and hurried to the windows.

“White male. Approaching the house.”

Hess and I moved to the windows, too, and Kelman moved to the door. Jon was on his feet with his pistol out faster than any of us, and helped Amy up.

“Let’s us go in back. C’mon.”

Amy seemed confused.

“Charles didn’t call.”

I peeked past the edge of the drapes, and saw Russ Mitchell climbing the steps. A bouquet of red and white carnations was in his right hand. I recognized him the same time Hess said his name.

“Mitchell. You asshole.”

Jon and Amy had retreated into the dining room. Jon stood so she was behind him.

“Amy, does he have a key?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Jon.”

I touched my lips to show him what I wanted.

He whispered something I didn’t hear, slipped behind her, and covered her mouth gently with his hand.

Hess set Kelman to open the door, and Darrow at the flank. She stood across the living room by the hall, and I stood by the entrance to the kitchen, all four of us with our guns out. Hess was the first agent he would see. She pointed at Kelman and Darrow.

“Take down, prone.”

I said, “Try not to kill him. We need him.”

Hess smirked.

“He’s not going to fight.”

A shadow passed the drapes, and disappeared behind the door. The house bell chimed, followed by two quick knocks. Kelman watched Hess. She shook her head. The bell chimed again, and this time Hess nodded. When the door opened, Mitchell took half a step inside. He stopped when he saw Hess, and immediately raised his hands.

Hess said, “Hands out to the sides. On your knees.”

Mitchell’s face was bright red, like a man fighting tears.

“I give up. Jesus, I’m sorry.”

Hess shouted.

“Step in. Get on your fucking knees, Russ.”

He spread his arms wider and higher, and worked even harder not to cry.

“I want a deal. Whatever you want. I’ll cooperate.”

“Get down!”

He dropped the bouquet, and the flowers fell.

“Whatever you want.”

Mitchell broke, and ran. Darrow and I moved fastest, but Mitchell pulled up short before we reached the door. He stood frozen on the porch for an instant, and his gun went off with a high-velocity crack. Russ Mitchell’s body folded beneath a red mist, and fell.

H
ESS WAS LIVID
.

“ASSHOLE!”

She turned from the body, and hurried to Amy.

“What will Colinski do if he can’t reach Mitchell?”

Amy was trying to see the body but the agents blocked the door. The street agents from below ran up when they heard the shot, and were on their phones with the agents who remained in the parking lot.

Amy said, “Did you shoot him?”

Hess blocked Amy’s view.

“Stay with me, Amy. Focus. He’s gone.”

Jon said, “Easy.”

Hess fired a glance, but gentled her voice.

“You said Colinski is going to call Mitchell about the money. If he can’t get Mitchell, will he call you?”

“I’ve never spoken to him on the phone. I barely spoke to him the one time we met.”

“So he doesn’t have your number?”

“Not unless Charles gave it to him.”

“And you don’t have his?”

“Charles dealt with him. Charles handled all that.”

I pushed past the agents and went to the body. Someone had cleared Mitchell’s gun, but his body was otherwise undisturbed. I checked for a wallet.

Kelman said, “Hey. You’re not supposed to do that.”

“Okay.”

I turned over the body, and went through Mitchell’s pockets. I was hoping for a scrap of paper with Colinski’s address or a treasure map, but I came up with his phone, wallet, and keys. I tossed the car fob to the closest agent.

“Check his car. Phone numbers, addresses, contact information.”

Mitchell and Colinski would have spoken and texted as they worked out their deal, which meant Colinski’s number would be in Mitchell’s phone. I took the phone and wallet inside, gave them to Hess, and went to Amy. She was back on the couch with Jon. Darrow took the phone from Hess, and examined it.

“Could you speak with Colinski if you had to?”

“I don’t have his number.”

“If we could reach him. If we could call him, would you be okay talking to him?”

She studied me as if she thought I was asking a trick question.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“He’s a scary man.”

“I’m a scary woman.”

Jon smiled, but he didn’t laugh.

I said, “If I was Colinski, and you called, you know what I’d be thinking?”

She answered without hesitation.

“Where’s Charles? Why is this woman calling, and not Charles?”

Jon nodded, encouraging.

“What would you say?”

She glanced to the front door, where the agents hid the body she had not yet seen.

“I’d tell him Charles is dead. I’d say I shot him, and I hope you won’t let this affect our business.”

I glanced over, and saw Hess listening.

“She can do this. She can make it happen.”

Hess wet her lips like she was getting hungry.

“We’d have to plan the moves. Keep it simple. We have a lot of moving parts.”

Mitchell’s phone rang. Darrow was still checking the phone when it rang. He startled so badly he almost dropped it. The Caller ID read
WINSTON MACHINES.

I held out my hand to Amy.

“Answer or voice mail?”

Hess took the phone, and held it toward her.

“You don’t have to. Only if you can.”

Amy took the phone, and answered.

“Hello?”

Hess and I leaned close to hear the other side, but all we heard was silence.

Amy said, “Mr. Rollins?”

Silence.

“Mr. Rollins, I’m here with Charles, and I have a problem.”

A male voice spoke. Gruff.

“Who is this?”

“Amy. We met at your house. With Charles.”

Colinski warmed, and his voice softened.

“Hi, Amy. I remember, of course. Please let me speak with Charles.”

“Charles is dead. I shot him. I’m afraid I had to shoot him.”

Colinski fell silent again, and at the same time Darrow waved his arms, and pointed at the computer. He mouthed the words ‘the money’ and gave a thumbs-up.

Colinski had made the transfer.

Amy said, “Mr. Rollins, are you there? I don’t want this to interfere with our business.”

Silence.

I leaned closer, and whispered.

“Offer to send him a picture.”

I ran outside to the body, but only Kelman pitched in to help. We dragged Mitchell’s body into the living room, and rolled him faceup.

Amy went to the body without missing a beat.

“Here, I’ll show you. I’ll send a picture.”

She snapped a pic of the head, then frowned at the camera.

“I took the picture, but I need your number to send it.”

Hess plucked at my arm, and whispered.

“We gotta get her off. We have to figure this out.”

Amy said, “All right, yes, thanks. Here we go.”

Amy tapped in the number and texted the picture.

I leaned close again.

“You’re worried someone heard the shot. You have to check. You’ll call him back.”

I stepped back, and watched.

I didn’t hear what Colinski said, but Amy’s voice turned cold.

“He was disrespectful. Let’s leave it at that. I do not tolerate disrespect. As I said, I hope this doesn’t create a problem.”

She listened for a moment, before interrupting him.

“Wait, I hear something. I think the neighbors heard the shot. I have to check. I’ll call you back.”

Amy played it well. She was believable and convincing, and then she hung up.