Bay of Deception (21 page)

“Get away from the box, Peidmont,” Benson said icily behind him.  “Otherwise I get to blow a hole in you.”   

Collinson looked up from putting the other containers away.  “What the hell are you doing?”

“Shut up, Collinson,” the agent growled, “Unless you want Peidmont to die right now.”

“Listen to him John," Oliver said, turning to look at his partner.

As Collinson slowly backed away, Benson pressed the gun between Oliver’s shoulder blades, then reached around and lifted his the gun free of his holster.  With a clatter, Benson tossed Oliver's gun onto the top shelf above.

“Okay, Collinson, pull your gun out...slowly, and then throw it onto the top shelf as well.  And Collinson,”  Benson grinned cruelly, “My gun contains some very special armor piercing bullets.  They’ll cut through Piedmont’s Kevlar vest like butter.” 

Collinson slowly withdrew his gun, then indicated he was ready.  Oliver felt the gun press deeper as Collinson flung it upward, the clatter of it landing atop one of the employee containers, raising the room’s tension level.

“Very good, Collinson.  You both get to live a little bit longer.” 

Somehow, this didn’t make Oliver feel better.  He slowly stepped away from the box and turned to face Benson.

“So you’re the informant
you
warned us about, clever.  Not only can you waltz in wherever you want as a federal agent, you can also profit from those
evolved
criminals you were so
very
concerned about.”

The twisted grin reappeared as Benson reached into the Carol's employee container and withdrew the documents. 

“The money’s good and the retirement plan is out of the country, if you catch my meaning.”  He waved his gun toward the door. “Let’s go deliver some papers.”

“Where the hell are you going, Patrick?”

“Henry!!”  Ruth Dawson called reproachfully from the back seat. “Please watch your language in the presence of ladies.”  Williams sensed the look which passed between the older couple. 

“What I
mean
to say, Patrick,” Dawson said after a telling pause. “...is that you’re taking an interesting route back to the station.”

Williams gave Dawson his most engaging smile.

“I, uh, discovered an unusual spot over by the Monterey Business Park last weekend.  I think you and the wives might enjoy it.  It’s possibly one of the best views of Monterey Bay,” he added, aware the Dawson's were avid travelers.

A brief silence hung in the car as Dawson eyed him.  “Well, that
sounds
interesting.”  With that, the older cop turned toward the front.

Williams
almost
felt sorry for the man.

Though there were several opportunities, Oliver and Collinson followed Benson's directions as he walked them down to Jenel’s former office.  With his gun aimed at Oliver’s chest, Benson pounded several times before Sullivan opened the door.  The attorney didn’t act at all surprised when Oliver and Collinson stepped through the entrance.  Benson waved them toward two chairs near the wall.

“Peidmont, you do get around,” Sullivan commented as he sat down.

“I’d say the same about you,” replied Oliver.  “Frame any cops lately?”

“Just you, Peidmont."  Sullivan's shark-like smile spread wide.  The District Attorney turned to the agent. “Good work, Benson...time we got rid of this bastard.”

Jeffers rose from the bed and extended his hand toward the agent. 

“Barbara, this is FBI Agent, Harry Benson, an invaluable resource to JenelCo and an old friend from college.  He’s recently helped with some inquiries regarding our operation.” 

Oliver watched her stiffen at the agent’s title, but she recovered and shook Benson’s hand cordially.

“I’m glad a man with your resources is working for us.”

“And these two,” the giant gestured toward Oliver and Collinson, “are two minor irritants soon to be eliminated.”

Benson lifted the papers tucked under his arm. 

“The fool led me right to The Consortium’s documents, just as you predicted, Paul.” 

Alarm flashed across Ms. Thompson's face.

Williams turned the car off as it came to rest at the cliff’s edge. He said nothing as Dawson stared into the dark.  The lights of the Monterey Business Park dotted the landscape before them.

“Well,” Dawson said, pausing.  “It’s not what I would call the
best
view in Monterey...”  His voice trailed off. 

Williams turned to his wife who a moment later, whispered something into Ruth Dawson’s ear.

“Henry?”  Ruth reached forward and touched her husband’s shoulder.  “Shelly and I need to step outside for a little
girl
talk
.” 

Dawson turned in his seat, a paternal fondness softened his stern features in the low light.  “If you must, fine, but be careful of holes and ruts in the ground.”

“Yes, dear,” the older woman answered as if she had been instructed to stay in the shallow end of a pool. The two women were gone a moment later, and he was alone with Dawson.  He suddenly became aware of the older man’s stare.

“Well...” Dawson blurted out. ”

“Well, what?” Williams answered warily, feeling like a kid caught stealing.

“Patrick,” Dawson scowled.  “After twenty-eight years of police work, do you think I can’t see a set up when it’s in front of my nose?”

In answer, Williams reached under his seat, withdrew the small laptop sized receiver and punched in the proper frequency.  Dawson, he observed, merely sat waiting as he stared into the darkness.

“
What
papers?”
 

Thompson’s question cut like a knife through the room and for a minute only silence answered her.

“Barbara,” Jeffers finally answered, his words rushed and desperate.  “Jenel compiled some highly sensitive information about The Consortium, which I believe were meant to blackmail the other members.  For the last few days I’ve been tracking them down, with Benson’s help.”

“WHAT?”
  Thompson shrieked as she flew off the bed.

The conversation coming over the receiver was not of CD quality, but it was clear and understandable.  Williams set the listening device between himself and Dawson, then leaned against his door.

Dawson’s gaze withdrew from the darkness beyond the windshield, settling on Williams. 

“Are you going you explain why we’re listening to a private conversation, Patrick?”

“Once we’re done here, Henry," Williams replied.  "I’ll explain in as much detail as you like.” 

Dawson responded with a single quick nod, then returned to the night beyond and the escalating conversation coming over the unusual looking speaker.

“Barbara,“ Jeffers rested his huge hands on the woman’s shoulders.  “Please hear me out.”

With an almost violent motion, Thompson shook herself free and strode to Benson, wrenching the papers from him as she did so.  Jeffers shot an appeasing look toward the clearly irritated agent. 

As she rifled through the documents, her reaction was immediate.  “Oh, my, God! 
OH. MY. GOD!
”

Oliver chuckled slightly, casually folding his arms as he did so.  “Oops," he said.  "Did they forgot to mention that?”

Jeffers swung toward him, violence in his eyes. 

“Shut up, Peidmont, unless you want to die right this minute.”  Oliver uncrossed his arms, lifting both hands in surrender.

“Barbara, please,” Jeffers implored as he turned back toward the seething woman.  “There’s no need for this kind of reaction.”

“
You...!
”  The executive's icy stare was absolute.  “May call me,
Ms. Thompson
.”  Turning toward Benson, she held up the documents.  “Have the two cops seen these?” 

Somewhat flustered, Benson first looked to Jeffers, then back to the enraged woman. 

“Uh, no, I never gave them...”

Oliver cleared his throat. “You sure about that, Benson?” 

“That’s of no real concern," Thompson sneered at Oliver. "Since you’re about to die.”  She turned toward District Attorney Sullivan.  “Mr. Sullivan, if we kill these two right now, what will happen in terms of an investigation?”

Sullivan stared at her. “Big balls you got under that skirt.”

“That's..." Jeffers broke in quickly, "Sullivan's way of complimenting you, Bar...Ms. Thompson.  Please take no offense.” Thompson gritted her teeth but kept silent.

“Well, let’s see.” Sullivan said, leaning back in his chair.  “Collinson isn’t a problem, but with all the publicity of the last few months, Peidmont could be.”  The attorney paused, lost in thought.  “I should be able to handle any investigation.”

Barbara Thompson looked unconvinced.  “What about the other police departments?  Can you deal with them as well?”

“If you’re referring to
Chief
Dawson,” Sullivan responded sarcastically.  “He’s a puppet and about as smart.  Don’t worry, he does what I say and everybody knows it.”             

She nodded, satisfied.  “Can we arrange for Mrs. McKenny to die as well, perhaps an unfortunate reaction to her current medication?”

“Seven dead people within a week,” Benson remarked, “would be tough to explain, no matter how good the cover story.”

Ms. Thompson spun on Jeffers.  “You said only Jenel and an informant had been killed.”

“Damn!” Oliver snapped his fingers. “Another little thing they didn’t mention.”  He smiled at the flushed woman.  “I’ll bet they told you Mrs. McKenny killed Jenel.  Truth is, he had a heart attack and that should come out in the autopsy report, since Mrs. McKenny’s told the police about that already.  Then the police will want to know why he had a bullet in his heart.”

Jeffers whirled and came at Oliver, his massive fists poised to strike, nearly forcing him to reach for the small revolver tucked beneath his pant leg.

“
Mr. Jeffers
!”  Thompson’s shout halted the giant only two feet from Oliver.  “Stop your asinine behavior,
NOW
!”  

Slowly, reluctantly, the executive faced her. 

“I need a clear picture of this entire situation,” Thompson said.  “Now
sit down
and tell me all you know so I can fix this mess you’ve created.” 

Red-faced, Jeffers did as he was told.

For once, something’s going my way, Oliver thought as he listened to Jeffers’ unedited version of what had happened to Jenny, Hana and the trail of the documents. 

Fifteen minutes later, Williams turned and stared at Dawson in the darkness of the car.

“Heard enough to call in some units, Henry?”

“Damn you! Patrick!”  The older cop hissed as he clenched his weathered fists as they rested on his knees. “I suppose you enjoyed this!” 

Williams lifted his shoulders, shrugging. “Not really, Henry, I only wanted you to see that the wolves were in the hen house.  I’m sorry to do it this way, but your own bull-headedness forced me to it.”

“I suppose," Dawson turned to look at Williams. "I should thank you for sparing Ruth.  A lesser man might not have.”  

Williams remembered that the women were still outside in the cold and tapped lightly on the horn.  A moment later, cold but invigorated, the two wives slipped into the back seat. 

“How was your talk, ladies?” Dawson said as the two woman bundled into the back seat.

“Quite enjoyable,” Ruth replied with agreement from Shelly.

Dawson turned as the two women breathed into their cupped hands.  “Patrick, mind if I make a quick call?  I need to take care of something you reminded me about.” 

“I’ll be right back, ladies,” Dawson said unlatching the car door.  “In these hills, I’ll get better reception outside the car.”  With that, he stepped outside, anger and pain etched on the old cop’s face. 

“...And that’s everything?”  Thompson’s tone was doubtful.  "You haven’t forgotten some detail that will hang us down the line?”

“Yes, that’s all of it.  I didn’t want...”

“Don’t make excuses!” Thompson said cutting Jeffers off.  “In the big chair, you’re responsible for
everything
.” 

It was obvious Jeffers wouldn’t be sitting in “The Big Chair” any longer.  Oliver realized he was enjoying this, especially when he recalled how Jeffers allowed Jenny to be shot.  Time to twist the knife, he decided.

“Actually, Ms. Thompson,” Oliver raised his hand as if he was in school.  “I believe Mr. Jeffers failed to mention Jenel’s secret taping room.”   Oliver withdrew the CD and held it up.  “Agent Benson was kind enough to help us find this CD which shows Detective Hana shooting Mrs. McKenny.”

“You know, Oliver,” Collinson nodded in agreement, amusement on his lips.  “I do believe he skipped that little tidbit.” 

Jeffers suddenly leaped at Oliver and wrenched the CD from Oliver’s hand even as a small pistol appeared in Ms. Thompson’s.  Suddenly Benson looked unsure of who to aim his own gun at and Sullivan rose from his chair as if to leave.

“Stay where you are, Jeffers.  Sullivan, you might as well sit back down too.”  Thompson’s voice had a steel edge to it now. “You too, Benson,” she turned to the agent, then gestured toward Oliver.  “Is what he said, true?”

“Barbara,” Jeffers pleaded, staying very still.  “You must believe me, Peidmont’s just trying to turn us against each other.” 

Pistol in hand, Thompson ignored Jeffers.  “Well, Benson?” 

The agent took a deep breath, then exhaled as he addressed the woman.

“I can’t say if the CD is incriminating, but yes, there
is
a room all right.  We saw you three on a monitor about forty-five minutes ago.”  Oliver watched Jeffers sag, small and defeated. 

Sullivan, who’d been quiet during all this, now stirred.  “It's clear things have gotten away from Paul, Ms. Thompson.”

“Shut up, Sullivan!”  Jeffers shouted. 

“You’re a
fool
, Paul,” Sullivan shot back, coldly. “You could never have stepped into Jenel’s shoes.” 

Thompson waved her gun toward the bickering men.

“Both of you, be
quiet!  Can’t you see we’re missing something?” 

“What do you mean?”  Sullivan asked, warily.

Thompson didn’t respond but walked to where Oliver sat, the small pistol held loosely in her hand.

“You’ve certainly been helpful, Detective, for a man who’s about to die.”

“What can I say?” Oliver replied.  “I’m
just
that kind of guy.”  He watched her strain to make sense of his calm. 

Thompson whirled about, staring straight at Benson.

“Tell me you searched them, Benson.  Tell me you searched the cops for wires!” 

It was not a question, but a command. 

“I....I mean....”  Benson sputtered, and then could only shake his head in answer.

“It doesn’t matter, Ms. Thompson,” Jeffers rallied one final time, a touch of hysteria to his voice.  “We’re several stories underground, surrounded by tons of reinforced concrete.  There’s no way he could be transmitting to somebody!” 

Pure hatred washed over Thompson’s face as her voice rose with each spoken syllable. “Then tell me,
YOU IDIOT!
” she screamed.  “How did we contact you through
our
communicator?”