the Viking Funeral (2001) (26 page)

"Tremaine rides in that armored truck down to San Diego and gets our money logged in to the bank there as a cash transfer from Ban
-
comer in Mexico
"
Jody continued. "Giovanni writes up the phony paper to record the deposit, then he does the cybertransfer to a little bank I found here in the Valley where I got some serious leverage with the VP of regional operations. From there, it gets wired to Aruba.
"
Jody smiled. "Two bank transfers, and the money is off-shore.
"

"Slick,
"
Shane said, and watched Jody smile.

The West Valley Bank of Commerce was located just off Ventura Boulevard on Beverly Glen, nestled into a landscaped commercial park five blocks from some of the most expensive real estate in the Valley.

They left Victory in the car outside, with instructions to cover their backs.

Tremaine had called an hour before, to say that the transfer of funds to the San Diego bank was complete. He was headed back to L
. A
.

It was nine A
. M
. when Jody, Shane, and Lester walked through the swinging glass doors. The West Valley Bank had a minimalist decor and looked as though it had been designed by Frigidaire. A few black
-
and-white Impressionist paintings dotted the shiny white walls.

Jody asked a passing bank employee if Bob Miller, the vice president of regional operations, was around.

"You mean Rusty.
"
She smiled. "I'll get him.
"

After five minutes Bob "Rusty
"
Miller walked up. Shane thought he was fifteen years and at least one hair transplant past his nickname.

Rusty led them to a private, windowless office in the back of the bank and closed the door.

"Both of these gentlemen are police officers as well?
"
he began without preamble. He seemed agitated and definitely in a hurry to get Jody out of there.

"That's right." Jody smiled. "This deal is going to work just like the Mexican bank sting. Same MO, only this time we're gonna wire slightly more cash..
. F
ifty million. It goes to a personal account in Aruba."

"Slightly more?
"
the pudgy banker exclaimed. "You can't be serious. That's five times more...
. A
nd isn't Aruba in the Caribbean?"

"The Lesser Antilles. Twenty five kilometers from the Venezuelan coastline."

"That's outside of the continental United States."

"Yep. Last time I checked."

"Sergeant, this branch is currently undergoing a federal bank examiner's review. It's going to be very difficult to handle that large a sub rosa transfer at this particular--"

Jody held up a hand and interrupted him. "You're going to do it because this is police department business, and a failure to comply will bring all kinds a'nasty shit down on you, Bobby."

"Jeezus, when is this gonna end?"

"Never," Jody snarled.

"I can't just keep doing this," he whined.

"Then you shouldn't a'been banging that teenage boy in the Valley, Bob. Shit like that has consequences. You know what happens to pedophiles in prison?"

"Look..
. I
..."

"You're gonna be home plate at pole
-
vaulting class."

"Stop it, please."

"I'm just trying to reset the table for you. Let's not get stupid and lose our perspective here."

Rusty was perspiring dark half-moons under the armpits of his designer blue shirt.

"Another bank-to-bank transfer?"

"Right. The cash is in this numbered bank account in San Diego." Jody handed him a slip of paper with the number on it.

"Okay," Rusty wheezed. "Who's this go to?"

"Wire it to the First Mantoor Bank of Aruba, marked to Lewis Foster's account there," Jody said, using the same alias he had given the geriatric gate guard in Palm Springs.

Rusty's face had gone pale.

But Shane had no sympathy for him. Worse still, he was appalled that Jody had rolled this creep instead of booking him. In Shane's mind, there was no worse crime than pedophilia. Yet Jody had apparently caught this guy and had let him slide in return for performing a banking favor on his Mexican bank sting.

In the wake of his disgust over doing business with Rusty Miller, Shane felt the old cop anger return, the sense of right and wrong that had propelled him toward police work in the first place. In that second, standing there in the back room of the bank, he felt for a moment like the old Shane Scully who cared about justice. He desperately wanted to be that man again. So he stood glowering angrily at the fat pedophile with a teenager's nickname, trying to turn back the clock..
. T
rying to be what he had once been, to reclaim feelings he had lost.

Then Rusty left the room with the account number to arrange the transfers.

"You rolled a child molester?" Shane asked as soon as the banker was out of the room and the door was closed.

"We caught this bozo by sheer accident." Jody grinned. "We were staking out the Mexican bankers, had a video trap set up to shoot through some glory holes in the motel rooms they had rented on Canyon Boulevard, not half a mile from here. We were waiting for them to get back from dinner, and unknown to us, the guy on the lobby desk was 'hot cotting' rooms, letting a buncha chocolate cowboys use already-rented suites for an hour or so, for cash. Rusty stumbles into our video trap with a fifteen-year-old male prostitute named Bunny. No shit, that's this kid's street name. When it turned out Rusty was in the banking business and we desperately needed a U
. S
. bank to wire our department-issued sting cas
h f
rom..
. I
t was too good to let slide. So Rusty became our CI on that op."

"This guy victimizes children. How can you make him a confidential informant?"

"All the John Wayne bullshit's really starting to get old, Hot Sauce," Jody snapped.

A few minutes later Rusty Miller came through the door. The trip to the wire-transfer room had done him some good. His color had returned. He handed Jody a slip of paper. "Here's your wire confirmation," he said.

Jody looked at the slip, then pulled out his wallet, managing to flash his sergeant's badge for good measure as he put the receipt inside.

"You stay out of trouble, Mr. Miller. I don't wanna hear from any of my Vice contacts that you're out boning kids on the Strip. If I do"--he nodded toward Shane--"my man, here, is gonna chop-block your ass."

"Please, leave me alone," Rusty squeaked.

"Right... Lemme take that under advisement," Jody said, and led the frightened pedophile out of the room.

Lester looked at Shane after they had gone. "This guy turns my stomach," he drawled. "Was up to me, he'd be doing a telephone number in the joint." A telephone number was con lingo for a long sentence.

Then Lester exited the room, and Shane found himself alone for a moment. He wanted to speak to Chooch, even if it was just for half a minute. Without worrying about the consequences if he got caught, Shane reached out, picked up the phone, and quickly dialed his home number. One ring..
. T
hen two...

Come on, Chooch... Pick up, please.

Then his answering machine clicked on.

"What the hell are you doing!
"
Jody interrupted, glaring at Shane from the doorway.

"Calling my machine.
"

Jody exploded into the room, grabbed the receiver and put it to his ear. Shane could hear his own voice recording leaking into the small room.

"Whatta you, nuts? They could trace this call through the phone-company records, come here, and roll Bob Miller. You don't talk to anybody. I thought we had that straight.
"
He slammed the phone back in the cradle.

"I was just gonna leave a message for my son,
"
Shane said.

"No messages. Nothing. You don't exist for that kid. You're history. Now let's get moving. They're waiting."

Shane didn't ask who was waiting. His heart was slamming in his chest.

In that moment, he had a premonition that he would never see Chooch again.

Chapter
33.

VICTORY'S BACK ON steroids," Shane said, just loud enough to be heard over the whine of the starboard engine. He was seated in a plush Gulfstream that was owned by All
-
American Tobacco. The jet was parked at the Peterson Aviation private jet terminal in Van Nuys. "You're dreamin', Salsa.
"
"Hey, Jody, I blew this guy
'
s thigh to shit just under two weeks ago. Look at him..
. H
e
'
s already walking without crutches. Only way he could be healing this fast is if he
'
s slamming steroids.
"

"Get off this, will ya?
"
"The guy is fixing. Once his leg is solid, he
'
s gonna try for me. I can't do what you want and be watching my back at the same time.
"

"We got less than three days and this thing is done. You'll never see him again. Don't make a problem now.
"

"Why don't you just go ahead and admit you can't handle him, that you're afraid to confront the guy."

Jody spun and glared across the narrow aisle at Shane. "Get off my jock, for Christ's sake. I told ya I'd take care of him, and I'll take care of him, but I don't need you all the time in my ear about it."

"You planning on doing that before or after he makes another play for me?"

Just then, a pretty young blond woman dressed in a blue uniform with shoulder boards came up the stairs into the plush jet. "Hi, I'm Lily," she announced happily to the Vikings, who were spread out in the comfortable club seats. "I'll be your stewardess. If any of you want to order a special meal, I can take care of that now, but it will delay departure. I suggest the selected menu on the embossed cards in the back of each seat."

"We're fine," Jody said, his voice still tinged with anger.

They heard footsteps on the jet staircase, and Lisa St. Marie came aboard, followed by Jose Mondragon.

"Okay, Lily," Lisa said. "Tell Matt and Carl we're all here." She was the only AAT employee on the plane and seemed to relish being in charge. She had chosen tropical colors for the flight, an off-the-shoulder Hawaiian print dress and matching sweater that she tied around her waist like a sash. Jose, in his trademark black Armani and glittering links, poured himself a drink from the chrome
-
and-crystal bar, then settled into an empty seat as the stewardess disappeared into the cockpit. Momentarily, a hydraulic mechanism hummed and the staircase came up, air-locking tightly into place.

The port-side engine wound up as Lisa walked down the aisle, pausing at Shane's seat. "I thought I'd sit back there," she said, pointing to the sofa in the aft compartment. "It's more private, and I'd love the company."

"Sure," he said, shooting a look at Victory as he unbuckled his seat belt and followed her to the rear of the plane, where they both sat on the champagne leather sofa.

She took his hand and smiled. "It's a long flight. We generally cruise at around forty-five thousand feet, and you know what that means...."

"No, Lisa, what does that mean?"

"You're about to become a satisfied member of the Mile-High club."

"I am?"

"We can be brave and do it here after everyone's dozing, or we can go to the lav, but once they're asleep, I'm planning to screw your brains out."

"Do I have any choice? Or is it always your call?" He could already feel the effect of her..
. H
er scent, her vibe, her wanton sexuality.

She reached down and felt his erection. "Look who's ready to go," she purred.

When she smiled at him again, he turned his face away. He promised himself he would not make love to Lisa again. But even as he made this pledge, he could feel lust beginning as a warm, sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, growing inside him, spreading to his loins like deadly poison. They took off and climbed quickly to their cruising altitude.

It was going to be a long flight, and Shane's resistance to her brand of spiritual darkness was low. After the stewardess served dinner and collected their trays, Lisa started in on him..
. T
easing at first..
. R
eaching out to him, feeling him, pulling her dress off her shoulders, exposing herself, pulling his face down, her nipples already hard with passion. Shane glanced nervously at the others sprawled out in the forward cabin, sleeping in their reclining chairs.

What was it about this woman, whom he didn't even like or care about but couldn't seem to resist? Why did she have this carnal hold on him? Like an addict, he was no longer in charge of his impulses.