On the Grind (2009) (20 page)

"Chrissi
e
. Who's this?"

I
closed the phone and handed it back to him.

"Next question. Did YOU know those gins were gonna pick me up last night and threaten me out in that orange grove? And if so, why the hell didn't you warn me?"

"I didn't know. I got hired onto this department by Charles Le Grande before Cecil was elected four years ago, so I wasn't part of Mayor Bratano's crew. I was isolated. I think its why he wanted me as chief. Up until about a month ago
I
was so wasted all the time I didn't know what the hell was going on and they never confided in me. I got my envelopes, my money, but nobody ever told me much of anything. After what happened with Le Grande, that's the way they wanted it. I only found out last night at the party about them taking you out to that orange grove."

"You told me you were drug-free. Then last night I saw you snorting up lines in Bratano's cabana."

He was quiet for a long moment, uncertainty, or maybe it was shame, playing across his face. Then he said, "I relapsed, okay? I'm trying to stay straight, but I'm under a lot of pressure here myself. I had a weak moment."

I looked at him, not sure how I wanted to frame this. I finally decided to just say it. "When I first came here, I wasn't sure you weren't trying to make good on your old threat to kill me. But I've been thinking about it a lot and if that had been your plan, you would have done it long before now. After what happened in that orange grove I have to figure you're telling the truth. They didn't know I was a UC, so I figure you're probably being straight with me. But you need to stay in the program, Rick. I can't have the gu
y
holding my back buzzed on drugs."

"I'm in just as much jeopardy as you are," he said. "I'm doing the best I can, but I'm vulnerable and scared. If you'd caved in out there and told them I put you undercover, I was going to end up just as dead as you. I was going nuts at that party, not knowing if you were about to give me up. I needed to settle my nerves. That's why I did the lines. From now on I'm clean."

We stood looking at each other. Selfish bastard that I am,
I
hadn't really stopped to consider that Ross was in just as much jeopardy from me as I was from him. I now saw that he was very close to the edge. His hands were shaking and, like me, he looked like he hadn't slept much lately.

"Okay," I said. "Lets put all that behind us for now. Why did you leave me the note? What's up?"

"I just found out this afternoon that Talbot Jones hired an independent polygraph operator to come down and put the entire police department on the box. All the blues plus command staff." "Why?"

"Because they think there's a mole on the force somewhere. They're totally freaked about it. They know somebody gave them up to the feds on the Haven Park High gang fight. They just don't know who. Until last night everybody thought it was you, but now they're not sure, so everybody gets tested top to bottom."

I couldn't catch a break. "Who did they hire? What company?" I snapped.

"
I
don't know, but the polys been fast-tracked. The gu
y
will be here soon," Ross continued. "As soon as he shows they're gonna start pulling people in and putting them on the box one at a time. I don't know what to do. I'll never pass. I'm a nervous wreck. If either one of us fails that poly, it's over for us both. Whatta we gonna do?"

"Either change the game or the timetable."

Rick's cell phone rang. He answered. "For Christ's sake, not now, Chrissie." Then turned off the power and shoved it deep into his pocket.

"You haven't told Chrissie whats going on here, have you?"

"I may he fucked up, but I'm not an idiot," he said. "Give me a little damn credit, okay?" I was trying.

"How are we gonna stop it?" he said.

"I haven't the faintest idea. But since neither of us wants to die, we better come up with something fast."

Chapter
37

So that was my five o'clock powwow with Ricky Ross. After we split up I walked again through the L
. A
. river muck to the Acura and arrived hack at the Bicycle Club a little before six. I went straight to the lobby, picked a pay phone and dialed Alexa.
I
told her about the pending polygraph. I could feel worry and frustration coming from her end of the line.

"Here's what I was thinking," I said. "In LA, there can't be all that many qualified independent polygraph experts or companies. Eight or ten, max. We need to find which one of these people Talbot Jones hired and get that person off the Haven Park job, put our own guy in there instead."

"There's a polygraph licensing board," Alexa said. "I think its called CAPE -- California Association of Polygraph Examiners. Ophelia and I can start calling each name and offer them an immediate job for Homeland Security. If anybody says they're busy in Haven Park, we'll order them to cancel that because national security is involved."

"I probably can't beat a poly and Rick Ross is shaking apart," I said. "You gotta do it tonight. If he shows up here, I'm gonna have to get out fast."

I was about to hang up when I felt someone standing right behind me. I turned around. Alonzo Bell was two feet away. How much of this had he overheard?

"Who you talking to?" he asked.

"Dentist. I was clamping my jaw down so hard in that orange grove, I think I cracked a molar. It's killing me. I'm gonna have to get it out fast," I said, repeating most of the last sentence I'd just said to Alexa, praying my B
. S
. would fl
y.

He took the phone from my hand. I could hear Alexa's voice talking as he raised the handset to his ear.

. . could fit you in next Friday at two, Mr. Scully," I heard her say. "Dr. Swanson has an opening then and you're due for a cleaning anyway."

Alonzo hung up 011 her and turned to look at me. "We're outta here. You've been called on."

"Let me get my jacket."

We took the elevator to my room. Alonzo stood in the doorway as I grabbed my coat. I also snatched up the belt with the transmitter, stringing it through the belt loops and cinching it tight, hoping Ophelia had a track on it, by now. Then I followed Alonzo back to the elevator and out of the casino. Parked out front in the red zone was his white Escalade.

"Where are we going?" I asked. "I should follow you in m
y c
ar."

"Don't worry, Til bring you back."

The windows of the SUV were tinted, so I couldn't see inside, but when I opened the door to get into the passenger side Horace
Velario was seated in the back. He bulled his buffalo neck and glared with hard eyes.

"Where are we going?" I repeated.

Alonzo didn't answer, but put the Escalade in gear and pulled out. We drove across the bridge and out of Vista. I wanted to get the ballpoint transmitter out of my jacket and move it up into my shirt pocket where it would be better located to transmit, but it felt like too obvious a move so I left it where it was.

We turned onto a two-lane street, which ran along the edge of the river into the city of Haven Park. Alonzo made a final turn and pulled up in front of A Fuego. As usual, he parked in the red zone by the front door.

With Alonzo in front and Horace behind,
I
headed into the club. I found a moment when my back was to them and reached into my jacket, clicked the ballpoint pen, and transferred it into my front shirt pocket.

Inside the club, mariachi music blared. People laughed loudly, shouting over the racket. Whatever ended up being transmitted by my little DCST was going to be killed by this racket.

Alonzo motioned for me to follow him into the mens room. "Keep everybody out," he instructed Horace.

The mens room was empty. Once we were inside, Alonzo said, "Assume the position, darling."

"Okay," I said. "But if this keeps up, I'm gonna need to get a ring."

He was very thorough just like last time, but he was looking for a wire and completely missed the pen.

When he finished, we exited the bathroom and, with Horace trailing us, walked across the club to his booth in the bar. Horace jammed his huge hulk in next to me on the upholstered bench
,
crowding me uncomfortably. Velario obviously didn't like me and was making no attempt to hide it. Alonzo slid in across from us.

"Beers all around?" he asked. Horace and I nodded, so he beckoned to a waitress and gave the order.

Then Alonzo spotted someone across the room and waved him over. A minute later Carlos Real Deal Real, the mayors whippet
-
thin, hyperactive assistant, walked over to our booth and slid in next to Alonzo.

"Carlos Real, meet Shane Scully," Alonzo said. We shook hands across the table.

Without preamble, Carlos said, "I understand you're good at cleaning up messes."

Chapter
38

Real had more ticks than a sleeping hound. He jiggled his leg, he picked nervously at his shirt cuffs. When he talked, his hands flew around over the table like a guy conducting an orchestra. His eyebrows kept flicking up and down maniacally. If I didn't know his rep, I wouldn't have believed this speed freak could be the mayor's number one political assistant.

"I talked to C
. B
. He tells me you already know what needs to be done," Carlos said.

"Yeah. I'm down."

"We've recently discovered we have some serious timetable restrictions." He lowered his voice. His fingers now drummed relentlessly on the tabletop. "We have several phone taps on the target. Because of what we've recently learned, we gotta pull everything way up."

"Okay," I said, "as long as it doesn't get stupid, I'm flexible."

"The individual in question needs to go tonight."

"Tonight? What's the big rush?" I asked.

"We just learned that there are several people who have decided to involve themselves in his safety--people who have proven skills."

"I thought you guys controlled the gangs," I said.

"Not gangs. Marines from Camp Pendleton. Mexican guys. The target has an uncle who's on extended leave from Iraq. His tio recruited some Force Recon guys from the base. They're arriving tomorrow and plan to be with your man day and night until after the election."

I couldn't help but wonder if the Marines might be Agent Love's doing.

"If we go tonight, are you still up for this?" Carlos asked. He had suddenly developed a tic at the corner of his right eye.

"We haven't discussed price. The mayor said it was a paying job." I wanted to lock in a premeditated murder-for-hire solicitation.

"I asked around up in L
. A
. I believe ten thousand is a good number," he said, quoting the exact price from my Sammy from Miami meeting.

"That works."

Carlos put a brown paper bag on the table. It didn't look like money, so I laid my hand on top of it. I could instantly feel the contours of a small automatic under my palm.

"It's a six-shot Para Covert Carry with a three-inch barrel," he said, as his eyebrows did a little jig. "It's nontraceable, so drop it at the scene. Alonzo and Horace will cover you."

"I want the cash up front."

"Half now. Half when the job is done." Real pulled a fat envelope out of his pocket and slid it across the table. "That's five," he said. "The rest comes after proof of death. We good?" Twitching and jerking like a hooked flounder.

"We're good."

He slid out of the booth without another word and disappeared into the throng, leaving behind a cold street gun, five thousand dollars and the smell of cheap cologne.

"I hope this money isn't part of our cafeteria policing deal," I said. "I'd hate to pass half of it back up to the same guy who just gave it to me."

"All yours," Alonzo said.

He looked at his watch. "Okay, we got a tight timetable if we're gonna get this done tonight. Let's go."

Once Horace, Alonzo and I were outside, I stopped them.

"I need to hear how you guys think this is gonna work," I said.

"Rocky's gonna give a campaign speech tonight at a rally over in Municipal Park in Vista," Alonzo answered. "We wouldn't give him a rally permit for Haven Park or Fleetwood, so he's doing it over there. It's at ten o'clock. According to one of the phone taps we got on him, after the speech he's gonna visit his new girlfriend, that lawyer bitch we met at the jail three days ago. Rocky's got a secret fuck pad somewhere over in Fleetwood. W
e
don't know where it is yet so we need to go to the rally, and once it breaks up we follow him to the tuna. That's where you do the job."

"I just shoot him? That doesn't sound too sharp. The guy's very popular. We need a good reason for the murder or this will never be off the six o'clock news. We need an old enemy or something."

"Rocky's got a lot of jealous girlfriends," Alonzo said. "We stage it to look like he got shot by this abogada, this Carmen Ramirez person. The story is she shot him, then shot herself, because he wouldn't stop seeing that reporter, Anita Juarez. A classic taco triangle. You leave the gun in the dead bitch's hand. It goes into the books as a murder-suicide."