LAUNDRY MAN (A Jack Shepherd crime thriller) (37 page)

“Fuck a duck, Jack, why do you always have to do everything the hard way?”

I recognized the voice without any trouble at all.

“Get that damned light out of my face, Just John,” I said.

A big hand wrapped around my upper arm and jerked me to my feet, then relieved me of the AK.

“What the fuck is
this,
Jack?” Just John had himself a good chuckle while I spat the grit out of my mouth. “You actually know how to use one of these puppies?”

“Want to give it back and find out?”

Just John laughed some more and I looked him over. He was wearing black pants with a black T-shirt and had a heavy six-cell flashlight dangled at his side. Over his shoulder some kind of small submachine gun hung from a sling.

Standing quietly next to John was Jello. He was wearing a khaki uniform that had been stripped of insignia and carried only a service revolver, but it was out of the holster and pointed in my direction. Both men wore dark gray Kevlar vests and over them the same loose blue jackets the four guys around the corner had on.

“We’ve got him!” Just John called out to someone.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I asked him.

“We’re just real interested in you, Jack,” Just John said. “We like to try and keep in touch with you whatever you’re doing. You’re a million laughs.”

“How did you find me?”

“I can’t tell you exactly. A bunch of top-secret shit’s involved. I’m sure you understand.” John’s voice made it clear that he didn’t give a damn whether I did or not. “Let’s just say that turning on your cell phone wasn’t real clever, Jacko.”

I heard the boots crunching in the dirt behind me and I glanced back over my shoulder. It was same the man I had found sitting in Dollar’s office the morning after Howard’s body had turned up swinging under the Taksin Bridge, the man who had claimed to be an FBI agent named Frank Morrissey.

“Where’d you find him?” Phony Frank asked Just John, hardly glancing at me.

“Sneaking around back here. The stupid shit—”

Phony Frank waved Just John into silence. “It doesn’t matter. Just bring him around front with the rest of them.”

Then the man turned on his heel and disappeared back the way he had come.

“Is one of you heroes going to tell me what the hell’s going on here?” I asked after he was gone.

“We’ve got ourselves a sort of situation, Jack,” Just John said.

“No shit.”

Then I looked at Jello who had yet to say a word.

“Do you talk, or what, pal?”

“This isn’t my show, Jack. I’m just along for the ride.” Jello looked mildly embarrassed and nodded toward Just John. “If you want to know anything, ask these guys.”

“And exactly who
are
these guys?” I asked without taking my eyes off Jello.

He looked away. “Ask them whatever you want to, Jack. Just leave me out of it.”

“Leave you out of it?
You’re wearing the jacket and you’re pointing a gun at me and all you’ve got to say for yourself is, ‘Leave me out of it’? From where I’m standing, old buddy, it looks to me like you’re just as much a part of whatever’s going on here as any of these other assholes.”

“Come on,” Just John said, “don’t give Jello such a hard time. He’s just doing his job,” He shifted the submachine gun strap slightly on his shoulder and tucked his flashlight under his left arm. “Let’s take it all one step at a time. Can you just do that for once in your whole goddamned life?”

“One small step for Jack Shepherd, one giant leap for mankind? Something like that, John?”

Just John grabbed my right arm with his free hand and pulled me around the corner of the house. Jello trailed behind as we walked toward where Phony Frank and the other men in the FBI jackets waited by the line of handcuffed people lying on the ground.

“You’re such a fucking wise-ass, Jack. You break me up. You really do.”

John didn’t really seem all that broken up to me.

SOMEBODY HAD SET
up portable lights at the front of the compound and they switched them on just as we rounded the corner. When we walked into the pool of illumination, the men in the FBI windbreakers turned to look at us.

The compound’s gates were wide open. Just outside, scattered as if they had been abandoned in a hurry, were three black Cherokees as well as the old jeep and the two white Toyotas I had seen on the security monitor. The men in police uniforms were lounging against the Toyotas now, watching the proceedings without any apparent interest. I shifted my attention back to the FBI jackets and their prisoners.

I recognized Beth and several of Barry’s guards in the line of handcuffed prisoners lying on the ground, but there were also others I didn’t recognize. Beth twisted her head around and gave me a half smile. I didn’t see any blood on her face so I gathered she was okay.

The Thais in uniform may not have been police, but these guys in the windbreakers were all westerners and they looked like the real deal. Maybe they really
were
FBI. They certainly could be. The whole operation smacked of textbook FBI planning. Come in with such overwhelming force and massive firepower that resistance is futile and the target collapses without a struggle.

“Bring him over here!”

Phony Frank was beckoning impatiently at Just John from down at the end of the line of prisoners. Right in front of Frank, Barry was lying on the ground on his stomach, his hands cuffed behind him.

“Is that you, Jack?” Barry called out when he heard our footsteps approaching.

Barry tried to twist his head around so he could see us, but Just John put the toe of his boot on Barry’s neck and shoved his face into the dirt.

Phony Frank looked at me and pointed back down the line at the other people with their hands cuffed behind them. “You know any of these?” he asked.

I wondered for a moment what the right answer was, and what might happen if I got the wrong answer.

“I recognize some of them,” I said after a moment.

“From where?”

I couldn’t see where this was going.

“Look, partner,” I said, “these are just some people Barry Gale hired to do security for him. If you think you’ve nabbed a drug lord and his secret army, you’ve got a big disappointment coming.”

Phony Frank walked down the line and pointed at Beth. “What about her?”

“I think she was in charge of Barry’s security.”

“Well, she did a piss-poor job, I’d say.”

Phony Frank laughed and most of the other men who were standing around started laughing, too, but when he walked back up the line again and stopped directly behind Barry, everyone stopped laughing.

“Can you identify this man as Barry Gale?” he asked me.

Phony Frank pointed to where Barry lay on his stomach with his face in the dirt and his ass in the air.

“Not from this angle. We weren’t that close.”

Phony Frank nodded a couple of times as if that was a perfectly reasonable thing for me to say. Then he reached down with both hands and in one smooth motion jerked Barry up by an arm and a leg and flipped him onto his back. Poor Barry writhed about on the ground, his cuffed hands pressing up into his spine. He looked like a fish that had been gaffed, hauled into a boat, and then left to flap helplessly on the deck. He also looked terrified.

“For Christ’s sake help me, Jack,” he whined. “Don’t let them kill me!”

“Relax, Barry. It’s the Feds. They’re not going to kill you.”

“Oh man, Jack.” Barry breathed in heavy jerks, sputtering slightly from the dirt sticking to his lips. “You still don’t get any of this, do you, you stupid fucking shit?”

“So you’re positively identifying this man as Barry Gale,” Phony Frank interrupted, enunciating as carefully as if he were making a recording.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well, is he or isn’t he?”

“I’m begging you here, Jack. Don’t let them kill me!”

Barry was trying to struggle to his knees, but Just John kept him down with one foot. The fear was right there in Barry’s eyes. I could see it easily enough, but I still didn’t understand it.

“Just who the hell wants to know, partner?” I snapped at Phony Frank.

I was starting to get very pissed with all the cloak-and-dagger stuff and I gave him a two-fisted stare.

“Answer the man, Jack. Just answer him,” Just John muttered.

He sounded like he was getting pissed, too, but whether at Phony Frank or at me, I couldn’t tell.

I folded my arms. “Not until someone tells me exactly what the hell is going on here.”

Just John sighed heavily and bent over. Dropping his flashlight, he reached out with one hand and flipped Barry back onto his stomach.

“The ABC was an intelligence operation from the beginning,” John said.

“What did Jimmy Kicks have to do with it?”

“He never existed,” Phony Frank smiled. “We made Jimmy Kicks up.”

I didn’t say anything. Suddenly I felt very stupid.

“We needed a bank to get some things done,” Phony Frank continued. “But then you know all about those things already, don’t you, Jack? That story about the Russian mob was just a cover for taking over the ABC. We had to have a reliable Asian conduit to fund a very sensitive operation. It’s as simple as that really.”

The wind was rising off the Andaman Sea, kicking up little puffs of limestone dust around the compound. It was so quiet I could hear the waves lapping against the rocks somewhere below.

“Who’s this ‘we’ you keep talking about?” I asked after a moment.

“This was a coordinated operation between the CIA and a special White House security unit,” John answered.

“
Special White House security unit? What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked. “Has Ollie North made a comeback I didn’t hear about?”

“That’s none of your goddamned business, Jack. You already know a lot more than you should and that’s another problem we’re going to have to deal with eventually.”

Just John’s voice was soft, but something in it made the back of my neck feel cold.

“Barry Gale scammed our operation for a great deal of money and we want it back,” John said. “On the other hand, we don’t want some fucking Congressman going on CNN someday and claiming we got the wrong guy, so we’re doing this by the book. Look over there, Jack.”

I looked where John was pointing and saw one of the guys in an FBI jacket was holding a video camera on us.

“If you’ll just look into the camera, smile real nice for the folks, and formally identify Gale, we can grab this bunch and it will all be a wrap. Now why can’t you just be a good boy, stop fucking around with something you don’t understand, and do that for us?”

“You a spy, John?”

“Nah, Jack, I’m just a guy who has to account for the money.”

I looked at Barry lying there helplessly on his stomach. I hated to be the one to finger him, but I knew it didn’t really make any difference. They had Barry, and although I almost felt sorry for the little shit now, the plain fact was they
should
have him.

I looked at Phony Frank and pointed to Beth and her people.

“They’re just hired hands,” I said. “Let them go and I’ll give you your ID.”

“No problem,” he said.

Phony Frank raised his right index finger and rolled it in a tight little circle. The men in FBI jackets started pulling the security guards to their feet and the rest of us watched in silence as they loaded most of them into the jeep and the two Toyotas. Then the guys in the police uniforms got in with the prisoners and closed the doors.

Two of the men in FBI jackets got into one of the Cherokees with the last three guards, then the one holding the video camera handed it to Jello and got in another Cherokee with the remaining FBI jackets and Beth. She nodded her thanks to me, but she didn’t say anything. One by one all five cars started and moved out in a convoy, the two Cherokees at the rear.

The compound was empty now except for the last black Cherokee and our own strange little tableau. Just John, Phony Frank, Jello, and I stood silently around Barry who was still facedown in the dirt with his hands cuffed behind him.

The wind off the ocean rose a little and more dust spiraled into the air.

“ARE YOU POSITIVELY
identifying this man as Barry Gale?” Phony Frank asked again, pointing to Barry.

I looked at Jello who now had the video camera trained on me.

“Please
just answer the man, Jack.”

Just John’s voice had a pleading tone in it that didn’t really sound like him.

“Okay.” I took a breath. “Yeah, this is him. This is Barry Gale.”

Phony Frank turned slightly and nodded, holding out his hand to Jello. Jello clicked off the video camera and passed it to him.

Then John took a slow step toward Barry. Before I realized what he was going to do, he swung his right leg in an extended arc like a football kicker going for a long field goal. He caught Barry squarely in the left ear with the steel-capped toe of his heavy leather boot and Barry’s head lifted off the ground. It reached the limit of the length of his spine, then it rebounded into the dirt. Barry screamed.

“Whoa, whoa!”
I yelled at Just John. “What the
fuck
are you doing?”

“I’m giving this piece of shit a taste of what’s coming unless he tells me what he did with our money.”

“They’re going to kill me, Jack!” Barry screamed again. “They’re going to kill me!”

“Shut up, Barry!” I snapped. “They’re not going to kill you. The government doesn’t kill people. They just arrest you, put you in prison, and somebody
there
kills you.”

Then I turned on John. “You don’t have to rough up the poor bastard. I can tell you how to find the money.”

Phony Frank perked up his ears. “You can?”

“Say pretty please.”

“Fuck you, asshole.”

“Okay, close enough.”

I was starting to get to this guy, whoever he really was, and I liked that a lot.

“Everything’s on the ABC computer system,” I told him, “and I know how to log into it.”

Phony Frank looked skeptical.

“That’s not enough,” he said. “You’d need to have the address for the right part of the bank’s network.”