Die-Off (20 page)

‘What’s she done that you’re looking for her?’

‘She hasn’t done anything I know of but she’s a friend of someone I’m looking for.’

‘What’s the name of the friend?’

‘He calls himself Rider.’

Marquez could see that didn’t mean anything to the kid. He gave him a chance to turn Rider’s name in his head and then asked, ‘Do you know Lisa?’

‘Sure, I know her from here. I come in every night but she hasn’t been in lately.’

‘Ever hear of a man who calls himself Rider?’

‘No.’

‘How can I find her?”

The kid didn’t answer. Maybe he was debating it. Marquez finished his beer and decided the men at the bar weren’t a problem and the bartender was just waiting him out. Marquez walked down the bar toward him and said, ‘Tell Lisa that John Marquez was here looking for Jim Colson.’

‘I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.’

‘You don’t have to know, just give her the message. She’ll know what I mean. Thanks for the beer and the good time.’

He walked back to the young guy’s table and finished his beer there. The young man was texting again and talked to Marquez without taking his eyes from his phone.

‘She’s got a cabin farther down the Trinity. It’s past Big Bar and you’ve got to know where to cross the river and pick up the trail. I don’t know if it’s her cabin but supposedly that’s where she is. You know he’s going to tell her you were here. You know that.’

‘Sure.’

‘He’s not going to like me talking to you either, so I didn’t say anything.’

‘I’m good with that and I’m not after her. I’m after someone she knows.’

‘She goes to that cabin for like a month at a time.’

‘Got it—thanks.’

Marquez left the empty beer glass on the bar and walked out.

M
arquez stayed that night in Weaverville and met up the next morning with one of the Trinity wardens, Brent Logan. Logan opened his laptop on the hood of his DFG truck and showed him trailheads and a map of cabins and homes along the Trinity River. He touched the screen.

‘If the cabin you’re looking for is out here, you’ll need to hike in or I can loan you a boat. There’s an old forest ranger I’ll call this morning. He knows everything built along the Trinity.’

From Weaverville Marquez drove south to Sacramento and three hours later he was at headquarters at a table eating lunch with four of the Special Operations Unit, including the current head of the team, patrol lieutenant Adrian Muller.

Muller did three Iraq tours and saw combat that affected him more than he liked to admit. He could get agitated and impatient and there was some of that today but Marquez couldn’t blame him. An informant was on his way here to meet Marquez and it was a meeting no one on the SOU team had seen coming. Muller had only known himself since this morning.

‘Faesy is going to call any minute. He’s got a US passport and claims his father had dual citizenship in the US and Mexico and that he grew up both places. He won’t say much about mom or dad, but he says his dad worked with you, John.’

‘His father worked with me?’

‘That’s what he’s claiming. What were you doing with his dad?’

That got a few laughs at the table and Muller moved on.

‘We’ve watched him move animal parts and drugs in his food truck. He parks and sets up for business and they come to the truck, buy food, and either take a delivery from him or give him one to drop off. It works for everybody. They get lunch out of it and paper bags get passed back and forth. It’s pretty good cover as long as the deliveries aren’t too big. On the drug end it’s probably as good as a kid delivering on a bike.’

‘Where is he picking up?’

‘A mix of places including just this side of the border and lately in a beach parking lot, or he meets a truck coming out of Long Beach Harbor farther down the highway.’

‘What’s his full name?’

‘William Faesy.’

‘I thought he was Mexican.’

‘He’s like you, he’s a mix. The Faesy name is from a stepfather.’

‘And the food truck is his business? That’s what he does every day?’

‘There’s no every day with this guy, but yeah, that’s what he does. He doesn’t always deliver with the food truck. He’ll switch to a rental truck, U-Haul, that kind of thing, if the delivery is bigger.’

‘And you’re saying he’s getting a mix of animal products.’

‘Yes.’

‘Why haven’t I heard about this?’

‘Because I’ve kept it inside the immediate team.’

Muller expected to be challenged on that and was ready.

‘Keep going on Faesy. I’m not questioning why you haven’t told me this before now.’

‘You don’t share everything either, John.’

Marquez took a bite of sandwich and said, ‘You’re right, let’s keep going.’

Muller sat on that a moment then continued. ‘The food truck works well for him. It’s mobile and flexible. He’ll do a hand-off right out in the open or at a rest station off the freeway or turnout or vista overlook, places like that.’

‘What does Faesy think you have on him?’

‘A lot of videotape of buys, but we’re bluffing. We’ve one good one and it wasn’t from a food truck deal. We’ve got an exchange of money and him loading turtles, tortoises, tropical birds, and venomous snakes into a U-Haul with the help of another man. He drove that load all the way to Seattle.’

‘We’ve seen plenty of drug deals too, but we haven’t given LAPD or anyone else a heads-up. Those are pills and cocaine and he’s got a girlfriend in Ojai who sometimes nips a little from the coke shipments. She often rides with him. We don’t know if she’s involved but that’s one of the questions for him today.

‘He’s also in San Francisco regularly and sometimes it’s a food event, a pop-up deal. He’s into selling and making his food and we think the animal trafficking pays for travel and juices his food business with cash. His food is decent. The chicken taco is his best thing.’

‘If he’s got the truck I’ll get one today.’

Two wardens laughed.

‘We’ll need to script it with you, John.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘We’ve been able to name places he’s picked up or delivered and he thinks he’s totally fucked, but like I said we only have footage of one U-Haul deal that was mostly tropical birds.’

‘What about the people he’s delivered to?’

‘We’ve got some okay tape there. Would your Rider walk up to a food truck?’

‘I doubt it.’

Marquez listened as he finished his sandwich. Muller made sure he understood that this was an ongoing SOU field investigation and beyond this meeting today he didn’t need any help. He viewed Marquez’s working as a lieutenant specialist attached to the SOU as a choice Marquez made. He once told Marquez he would have quit Fish and Game if the same thing had happened to him. That Marquez was also an FBI task force officer and deputized as a US Marshal was just smoke from Muller’s point of view.

‘Okay, so back to his father who he claims knew me.’

‘It came out of nowhere and I promised him I’d get you here for this meeting.’

Marquez nodded. He looked around at the group and said softly, ‘Well, he’s like a son to me. It’ll be good to see him again.’

More laughs but they were as surprised as Marquez that Faesy had played this card.

Now the call from Faesy came and Muller and one of his team went down to meet him in the lobby and bring him up, and Marquez thought, why not a food truck? They were everywhere now, big enough, and pretty good cover if as Muller said the deliveries weren’t too big or too far away.

The elevator dinged and he heard Muller talking to Faesy as they walked him down the hall. The first thing Marquez picked up on was Faesy had some Japanese blood and there was a resemblance. He got that right away and shook Faesy’s hand.

‘You knew my father but he got killed and my mother married my stepfather. I took my stepdad’s name after he adopted me.’

‘Where did you grow up?’

‘Escondido.’

‘Are your parents still there?’

‘No, they’re both dead. But my mom said you were with my real dad when he was killed. He gave her a piece of paper you wrote your phone numbers on.’

‘And she kept it all that time?’

‘He told her that if anything bad ever happened to call you and you would help.’

‘That’s a long time to keep a piece of paper.’

‘She found out ten years ago that you worked here.’

Looking at him Marquez saw it. The resemblance was unmistakable. With some people the second you see them you know exactly whose kid they are; the resemblance sent him back to his DEA days and the drive through the Juarez with Billy Takado’s body.

‘Do you still have the piece of paper with the phone numbers?’

He started to pull his wallet out. ‘Do you want to see it?’

‘Do you remember your dad?’

‘Honestly, hardly anything, only that he wore sandals and these flowered shirts.’

Hawaiian shirts and always sandals, Marquez thought, as Faesy unfolded a piece of yellowed paper and handed it to him before answering.

‘His name was William Takado. My mother said everyone called him Billy.’

Marquez was looking at his name and the phone numbers written on the paper, numbers he had written when he worked for the DEA. He looked at the paper and remembered and still it didn’t feel right. Something was wrong here. The paper was right. The phone numbers were right and this probably was Billy Takado’s son, but something was wrong.

‘I have an ordinary name. How did your mother find me?’

‘I don’t know. She knew people.’

‘Ten years ago?’

‘I don’t know if it is exactly that long ago, but something like that.’

Marquez glanced at Muller and knew this could get Muller upset, but he did it anyway.

‘I didn’t work here ten years ago, so what’s up? Who put you up to this? You’re getting in deep here and you’re already in a bad spot.’

‘Come on, man, my mother gave that to me. She said I could trust you.’

‘It’s you we’re talking about.’

Marquez heard a chair scrape and a sigh. No one was sure where he was going with this and they needed Faesy. He was their key and they didn’t want Marquez screwing it up.

‘Do you go by Billy like your dad?’

‘Bill.’

‘Bill Faesy?’

‘Yes.’

‘Who got you into what you’re doing now?’

‘Come on, man, my mom saved that and gave it to me. It couldn’t be more real. I’m telling the truth.’

Marquez tapped the piece of paper with the phone numbers.

‘Someone screwed up telling you I was working here ten years ago. I wrote these phone numbers down and I believe your mom kept the paper, but whoever you told the story to and sent you here with it screwed up the ten year part. You got the timing wrong.’

Muller coughed. He was increasingly uncomfortable with this, for Muller knew Marquez had been here ten years ago and was wondering why lie to Faesy, why mess with him? Marquez nodded toward Muller.

‘He’s in charge. His team caught you and they’re the ones you have to work with; I’m just a gatekeeper. My job here is to validate you. Do you know what I’m saying?’

‘I get I have to prove it to you, but I’m telling the truth.’

‘Yeah, you have to prove it to me and if you don’t, you’re screwed. I’ve seen what they’ve got on you. You’ll go to prison and for me, that’s okay, so you’re not getting past me without telling me who put you up to this.’

‘I’ve told you everything. Maybe she got the wrong number of years, but what’s the big deal? You still work here. You recognize the phone numbers and remember writing them. I could tell on your face that you remember. My mother said I look like my dad. Do I? Do you see him, man?’

‘I see him.’

‘So what’s up?’

‘Your mom didn’t find out I work here.’

Faesy looked away. He shook his head and then looked at Muller.

‘That’s all I have, the piece of paper, what my mom told me.’

‘Then I can’t vouch for you.’

Marquez stood up. He apologized to the SOU wardens and left the room with Muller following. He walked down the hallway talking with an unhappy Muller.

‘Where are you coming from with that, John? This guy is our key to the door. We need him. What’s wrong with his story?’

‘It doesn’t feel right.’

‘Doesn’t
feel
right? Really, our investigation is riding on your gut feeling?’

‘Let him sit and then let me go in alone.’

Muller was fine with that but an hour later got impatient and wanted back in the room with Marquez and Faesy. Marquez argued against it.

‘If you go in there with me he’s going to turn to you for help. He knows you want to work with him.’

‘I don’t want you blowing up our operation.’

‘I’m not going to blow it up.’

‘And no more of the gatekeeper shit. I’m not losing this guy.’

Marquez sat across from Faesy and saw the bull ring in the Juarez, saw Billy Takado.

‘I want to talk to you, Bill. I don’t want to threaten you and they’re offering you a good way out. They want to work with you. You know that, right?’

‘They don’t give a fuck about me.’

‘I didn’t say they did. I said they want to work with you and it’s better than prison. I saw your record. You’ve been in jail on some minor stuff, but you haven’t done time in prison. You don’t want to go to prison and I can’t okay you without knowing how you got to me.’

‘I told you.’

‘Do you want to shake hands and leave it there? I’ll do that right now and leave the room if you want. But if I stand up, it’s over. We’re done and I’m gone.’

Faesy pulled his brown leather wallet out and held it in front of him.

‘I’ve carried that paper a long time, man.’

‘I know you have and you told the story to someone who recognized my name and knew how to put it together. I need to know who that was.’

Faesy sat a long several minutes. He sighed. He looked down at the table then up at Marquez and said, ‘They’re after you.’

‘Who’s after me?’

‘A dude called Rider is looking for you.’

‘Have you met him?’

‘No, he sent a chick to tell me what to say. How does he know you?’

‘I’ve been chasing him and he figured out who I am. I’m going to need to get an artist to sketch the woman who came to meet you. I’ll need you to describe what she looked like.’