At Their Own Game (22 page)

Falkner turned off his flashlight but kept his gun out.
 

“You don’t need that,” I said, pointing to his weapon.
 

“I’ll be the judge of that. Mind your own business.”
 

I shrugged. “All right.” Then, for the benefit of my listening audience, I added, “Guns just make me nervous, is all.”
 

“What kind of pussy are you? You used to be a cop. And guns make you nervous?”
 

“When they’re pointed at me, yeah.”
 

He lowered the muzzle. “Better?”
 

“Marginally.”
 

He eyed me carefully. “You’re such a smart ass, Stank. You know, that was almost the worst part of it all. How you had to be a smart ass about everything. If there was ever a chance I could let any of this shit go, you made sure that didn’t happen with your wise ass remarks and that goddamn expression on your face.”
 

“I have an expression?” I smiled sarcastically.
 

“Fuck you. Why’d you bring me here?”
 

“Have a nice lunch?”
 

He took a step forward. “Listen, dickhead. I have enough to slap cuffs on you right now. So piss me off a little more and see where you sleep tonight.”
 

“You don’t have shit,” I said. “And we both know it. You’ve been hassling me, digging at me, and trying to pin bullshit on me for how long? And you still don’t have shit.”
 

“I have a case.”
 

“You don’t have shit.”
 

“I have a case, goddamnit!”
 

I held out my wrists. “Then arrest me. Take me to jail and book me.” I cocked my head at him. “Oh, wait. You need a charge for that, don’t you? And you don’t have one of those, do you, Detective Falkner?”
 

He glared at me. “I have plenty.”
 

“Well, I’m calling your bluff, then. Let’s see those cards. Slap that shit on the table.”
 

Falkner didn’t answer. He just stared hate lasers at me. Then, in a low voice, he growled, “You can review my case with your crappy public defender. I don’t have to tell you jack.”
 

“But you want to,” I said, my voice just as low. “Oh, you
want
to. Because it bothers you, doesn’t it? It bothers you that I got away with it.”
 

“You didn’t get away with a single goddamn thing. I got you convicted and I got your ass fired.”
 

“I’m not talking about my job. I’m talking about Helen.”
 

His eyes narrowed. “Shut up.”
 

“It bothers you that you never caught me. All those times I fucked her and you never once came close to catching me.”
 

“I said, shut your mouth.”
 

“Well, I guess you almost did that one time. But even then, I got away. And now she’s back in town again, and who’s she with? Me. That’s gotta burn, huh? Burn like a motherfucker.”
 

Falkner’s jaw muscles clenched and bulged. “You had better watch your –”
 

“And besides,” I interrupted him. “Did you really get what you wanted way back when? A misdemeanor conviction?” I shook my head. “No way. You wanted the
felony but the prosecutor wouldn’t risk it. Because it was a shit charge and all of you knew it.”
 

“The prosecutor was a politician,” Falkner said. “And that charge would’ve stuck.”
 

“Too bad you didn’t use some of your great new investigative techniques back then. You could’ve had your patrol buddies stop and hassle me. That’d be fun. And you could seize my stuff without probable cause, too. Another fun trick.”
 

“You don’t deserve any better,” Falkner said. “You’re the worst kind of a piece of shit.”
 

“Yeah?”
 

“Yeah. The kind that knows better but does it anyway.”
 

“The way I see it, that’s about what kind of cop you are these days. I mean, seriously – how long before you get tired of waiting and just plant some shit on me?”
 

He shook his head. “I wouldn’t do that.”
 

“So that’s where you draw the line? Lying and stretching the Constitution is all right but planting evidence crosses the line?”
 

Falkner smiled cruelly. “For you, maybe I’d make an exception.”
 

“Why don’t you just kill me?” I said. “Why don’t you get it over with?”
 

Falkner barked out a laugh. “Oh, I’d love to. But you know what I’d love even more? To know you were over in Shelton getting your ass pounded by the brothers.”
 

I laughed back at him. “Falkner, do your best. Even if you make up some shit or plant some evidence and you end up with a perfect case and even if all the cards fall your way in court, so what? You and I both know that the most I’ll do off that is fifteen months at Geiger. That’s minimum security, with conjugal visits. And a bunch of
other property crimes minor criminals. The only pounding I’ll take is at ping pong.”
 

His face dissolved into fury. “No! You are going to pay!”
 

“Not going to happen.”
 

“My case—”
 

“—is shit,” I finished for him. “You’ve failed, Detective Falkner.”
 

He let out a guttural cry and took two steps toward me. I held my ground. He grabbed me by the shoulder with his free hand and stepped in even closer, pushing his pistol up under my chin.
 

“How’s that feel, you piece of shit?” he gritted.
 

“Feels like a gun under my chin,” I said deliberately.
 

He jammed the gun further upward. “Fucking smart ass.”
 

We stood there motionless for a long moment. Every fiber of my body strained to break free but I kept the inclination in check. I was almost there. I just needed a little more.
 

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” He said, punctuating his words with little upward thrusts of the barrel under my chin. “I ought to fucking shoot you right here and now.”
 

I met his gaze and mouthed the word “pussy.”
 

He drove the gun under my chin again, pushing my head back. Then he leaned in close.
 

“I’ll fucking do it,” he whispered. “I’ll blow your brains out all over that wall.” He glared at me.
 

I smiled back at him.
 

His eyes narrowed in confusion. “What the hell are you smiling about?”
 

“Did you get that, boys?” I asked loudly.
 

The confusion swam in his eyes for another moment. “Who are you talking to?”
 

I kept smiling, in spite of the gun under my jaw.
 

Falkner’s expression turned to realization, then panic.
 

“No way,” he breathed. Then he reached out and patted at my chest. When he found the little transmitter, he ripped my shirt open. Buttons popped and tinked onto the dirty floor. He tore the transmitter away from my skin and held it in his hand, staring down at it in horror. “You mother
fucker
!”
 

I took advantage of the opportunity. I stepped to the side and kicked upward as hard as I could. My foot struck him flush in the balls, making his world even worse than it was a few seconds ago.
 

Involuntarily, he pulled the trigger of his gun. A shot went off, tearing through the ceiling. I reached and grabbed at the pistol. Despite his pain and confusion, his instincts kicked in and he jerked it back. The gun flew out of his hand and clattered to the floor on the other side of the decrepit desk.
 

I ran.
 

Falkner let out a guttural shriek after me as I clambered down the stairs. I knew he’d chase me as soon as he retrieved his gun. And now was when he was the most dangerous. Now was when he might realize he had nothing left to lose.
 

I ran for the same door I’d used to come inside. My feet pounded on the dirty factory floor, splashing the small puddles. My cheek and kidneys flickered in pain with the impact of each step.
 

The first shot came just as I reached the door. I ducked reflexively, then threw the door open and ran through it. I cut across the empty parking lot at an angle, just in case he shot through the door.
 

“Motherfucker!” He screamed as he burst through the door.
 

I turned around almost involuntarily to look at him. He stumbled heavily down the small set of concrete steps and barreled after me. Even from here, I could see his face twisted in an enraged grimace. “I’ll fucking
kill
you!”
 

I didn’t bother looking for the hole in the fence. Instead, I leapt up, grabbed the chain links and scrambled up, ignoring the cries of protest from my body. Once I’d swung both legs over, I dropped and ran.
 

Another shot rang out. The concussive whiz of a bullet zipped past my head.
 

I ran in a serpentine fashion, my lungs burning already, the muscles in my legs weak but full of adrenaline. How far before they gave out? Before he was close enough to take an accurate shot?
 

I cut to my left and hurried into the nearby overpass tunnel. Train tracks ran over the top. I pumped my legs for everything they were worth, waiting for another shot.
 

He yelled twice more but didn’t shoot.
 

I emerged on the other side of the tunnel and cut left again. A white Chevy Caprice slid to a standstill in front of me. The doors flew open. Manning and another WSP detective leapt out, drawing their guns and pointing them at me.
 

“Don’t move!”
 

“Behind me,” I gasped, falling to my knees. I raised my hands and motioned over my shoulder. “He’s got a gun.”
 

“Keep your hands where I can see them!” yelled Manning.
 

Another Caprice blasted past us and hooked a right into the underpass. It screeched to a stop. I heard doors slamming and voices bellowing orders and chaos echoing against the concrete walls.
 

I waited hopefully for the sound of gunshots but they never came.
 

TWENTY-THREE
 

They kept me in the interrogation room for two hours without letting me use the phone. I wanted to call Helen and tell her that I was all right and not to worry. I wanted to reel in Brent, since I knew for sure now that he was still loyal.
 

And I had to visit Matt.
 

And that was just for starters.
 

Instead, I sat in the same interrogation room I’d been in when I gave Manning my bullshit story about Ozzy. Well, bullshit to him. Most of what I’d told him was actually true but there’s no way he’d lend any credence to it now.
 

During the two hours, the only contact I had was with a uniformed trooper who offered me coffee early on and escorted me to the bathroom an hour later. Finally, Lieutenant Lauridsen stalked into the room, trailed by Manning.
 

“Do you think you’re funny?” Lauridsen asked me without preamble.
 

“Sometimes,” I said. “But not today.”
 

“No kidding not today. Do you realize what you’ve done?”
 

“Exposed a dirty cop?”
 

She pressed her lips together. “You know, Detective Falkner might be wrong on quite a few things, but he said one thing that holds true.”
 

“What’s that?”
 

“That you’re a wise ass. Why is that?”
 

“Just a natural, I guess.”
 

She shook her head. “You lied to my detectives, Mr. Stankovic.”
 

“You’re right.”
 

“You know that’s a chargeable offense? Making a false statement to a law enforcement officer?”
 

“Yes, I do. It’s a gross misdemeanor under RCW 9A point 76.”
 

She stared at me for a moment. “I guess that takes care of whether you did so knowingly or not.”
 

“I did. But I was in fear for my life.”
 

“That’s why you put my men in a situation where they may have had to fire on another law enforcement officer?”
 

“I didn’t cause that situation. Falkner did.”
 

“No,” Lauridsen said. “I’ve heard the tape. You forced it. You pushed all of his buttons.”
 

“He’s a police officer,” I told her. “He has all of the power in that situation. And he’s the one who put a gun to
my
head. He’s the one who fired at
me
. Several times. I’d say that pretty much vindicates me and completely justifies my fear for my own safety.”
 

She leaned back, and glanced up at Manning. Then she asked, “Why not just go to the city cops? Tell Internal Affairs what was happening.”
 

I let my jaw drop. “Are you serious?”
 

“Yes, I am.”
 

“The same IA unit that roasted me alive back when I was on the job? The same department that fired me because it was politically expedient?” I shook my head. “Aren’t you a lieutenant? You gotta be smarter than that.”
 

“All right,” she conceded. “Then why lie? Why come in here and give my detectives some bogus story about a drug dealer?”
 

“Because none of you would have believed me. You might have taken my information and my story but as soon as I’d left, you would have farmed it right over to
SPD’s Internal Affairs unit. Then I’d be worse off than I was before.”