Playing the Game (18 page)

            ‘Governor Tassiker will see you now’, said the pretty blond secretary that oversaw the day to day office amenities. Shame he wasn’t local, thought Axon, or he would have tried to get her number.

            He was shown into the governor’s office, a smile reciprocated by the secretary suggesting that if indeed he’d asked for her number, she might have given it to him. The office itself was pretty much as he had suspected it would be; lots of literature adorned the bookshelves, and several awards both for the prison and for Tassiker personally, hung proudly on the adjoining wall. ‘Detective Axon’, greeted Tassiker, hand outstretched.

            ‘Governor’, Axon acknowledged, shaking his hand then sitting in one of the chairs as Tassiker indicated that he should. ‘Thank you for seeing me at such short notice’.  Tassiker appeared to be in his early fifty’s, silver hair and greying beard, dressed in a made-to-measure suit, he looked every bit as distinguished as Axon had imagined. He looked like an influential man with powerful friends. Was one of them LA District Attorney Paul McCrane, he wondered?

            ‘Not at all’, the governor smiled, ‘always happy to accommodate the police where I can. After all, we are in the same line of work aren’t we?’

            ‘Indeed we are’, replied Axon, keen to establish some common ground with the governor, hoping he would lower his guard.

            ‘So how can I be of assistance to you Detective? Your Captain informed me you may have a former inmate of San Quentin in Los Angeles causing some trouble. I must say’, Tassiker continued, looking somewhat perplexed, ‘it might have been an idea to tell me who are looking for over the telephone. I’m sure we could have had something ready for you on your arrival!’

            Axon had been ready for this question. ‘Absolutely’, he agreed. ‘The thing is, we’ve only just had confirmation ourselves, literally as I arrived here. Wouldn’t want to have wasted your time, I can imagine you have plenty to do,’ he flattered. ‘The Captain thought it would be prudent to have me in transit, should the confirmation arise, which as I said, it only just has’, he clarified. Tassiker seemed to accept this as an explanation.

            ‘So then, Detective’, Tassiker leaned closer over his desk. ‘May I ask who this inmate is that you are so interested in?’

            Taking a deep breath, Axon focussed intently on the governor’s face, ready to look for any degree of familiarity when he uttered his next words. ‘The former inmate we need information on is Sarah Caldwell’.

48

            Even though we thought we’d just struck some sort of deal with The Chemist, albeit on her terms, I wondered whether we could take Sarah Caldwell at her word. I relayed the conversation to Captain Williams, along with the contents of the latest envelope. ‘Well I guess we wait and see if The Chemist gives us Stella back’, he assessed. ‘In the mean-time, until we find her alive and well, then the envelope is all we have to go on, we should carry on following the trail’. I had to agree with him there. What were we going to do? Just stand around until Caldwell maybe gave us Stella back? ‘That being said’, he continued, ‘We need to figure out this latest communication. You guys might as well head back to base until we have. Agent Balfer has just arrived so I could do with you bringing him up to speed. As soon as we figure out where you need to go from here, you go. Until then, I suggest you try and figure out why Caldwell has changed her plans’.

            ‘So are we sure that Sarah Caldwell
is
The Chemist then? Has there been anything from Axon?’ I wanted to know.

            ‘He’s with Tassiker now, that’s all I’ve got. As for are we sure it’s Caldwell? Well how
can
we be sure? It’s a name and the circumstances fit, what can I say?’

            ‘Copy that’, I replied. ‘See you soon Captain’.

‘Quantico time’, I said turning to Charlie, relaying that Agent Balfer was now at the PD.

            It took us less than half an hour to get back to the station. We’d heard nothing during the journey that suggested anyone there had interpreted The Chemist’s latest message; our journey being equally as fruitless on that score. 

            Back in the incident room, there was a buzz as the people there were trying to work out what ‘going deeper underground with a Saint’ and ‘Batman reversed’ could possibly mean.

            ‘We got anything yet?’ I greeted Captain Williams.

            ‘Not a thing’, he shook his head. ‘Patton, Holland; I’d like you to meet Agent Balfer from the FBI’.

            We duly brought the agent up to speed. He’d been given the outline by Williams, but we filled in the detail, for my part also recounting my suspected link with Sarah Caldwell, and her possible reasons for targeting me. He assured us he was only here to assist us, in any way he could and that he was by no means here to take over the investigation. To that end, he seemed like a stand up guy. I’ve had cases in the past where FBI involvement pretty much signals the end of your control of the case but that didn’t seem how it was going to go here.

 ‘Guys, this is your case; you’re the best shot we have of catching The Chemist. I’m here to offer you the FBI’s help and if need be, their resources’, he instructed. ‘Anything you need, just say the word. Quantico estimates that there are about thirty to forty serial killers currently operating in the United States today. We certainly don’t need another one’.

            I have to say that that statistic blew me away. It was almost beyond comprehension to learn that there could be that many serial killers currently active, un-captured, roaming the various states of our country.

            ‘Fuck me man, what are you guys doing up there?’ Charlie joked.

            ‘Same as you guys down here’, Balfer countered. ‘We’re doing what we can!’

            ‘There is one thing you could do for us’, I suggested. ‘Run Caldwell, San Quentin and Paul McCrane through FBI intelligence, see if there’s any link, anything you can come up with?’

            ‘Consider it done’, Balfer agreed. ‘Give me twenty minutes, I’ll see what I can do’, he promised.

            ‘So do you think Caldwell’s gonna give us Stella?’ Charlie asked as we once again stared at the latest message, having settled into a couple of chairs in the corridor just outside the incident room.

            ‘Who knows?’ I responded. ‘Something must have happened to make her phone us a second time. I’m pretty sure that wasn’t her original intention’. I slumped back in the chair, rubbing my eyes. I was long over the effects of the several beers I’d drunk last night, but there was no escaping the fact that I’d only had an hours sleep the night before. I couldn’t even begin to guess when I’d next see my bed. ‘Batman reversed?’ I asked again out loud. ‘Come on, think damn it’. I was talking to myself as much as Charlie. Even with the promise of Stella’s safe return, we couldn’t take the chance of this trail going cold.

            Just as I was feeling my eyes close, with Charlie’s voice echoing in my ears, repeating ‘Batman’ and ‘Saints’, I heard an unfamiliar voice. ‘Excuse me, Detective?’

            I looked up and saw one of the station’s repair guys hovering expectantly. ‘Yeah, what can I do for you?’ I asked. The guy looked almost embarrassed to say anything.

            ‘Erm, I overheard you guys talking about Batman, like you had some kind of riddle?’

            ‘Overheard? How you overhear?’ Charlie was naturally suspicious.

            ‘They got me up here working on your air-con. Thing’s older than I am and I’m getting pretty old’, he chuckled. At this point, having had no further communication from The Chemist, I was willing to listen to anyone’s ideas. Even one of the contractors.

            ‘Well what you got for us Marvin?’ I asked, noticing his name tag on his boiler suit.

            ‘It’s just that I overheard you guys talking about Batman reversed and I used to be a big fan of Batman back in the seventies you know?’

            ‘What’s your point?’ Charlie asked.

            ‘It’s just that, hey I read the news you know, I’m no detective but I know you’re after that Chemist motherfucker and I know he got you running around in circles. Hell, I watch Farrington news, just like everybody else does. We got TV, even on my goddamn wages’.

            ‘Again, your point?’ Charlie repeated, fearing this was just an opportune rant on the part of the engineer.

            ‘Well I got a nephew works down at a school as a cleaner, good kid, takes after his uncle’, he was skirting round any point that he may have, much to Charlie’s annoyance, but I indulged him regardless.

            ‘And where does he work then Marvin?’

            ‘Well that’s the thing Detective. He works down at a school in West Adams and Adam West played the Batman on the TV show didn’t he? You want your Chemist, there’s your next step. There’s your Batman reversed! What you think about that?’

            Charlie and I both looked at each other. As much as it pained me to admit; it was as solid as anything that the various officials working the case, us included, had managed to come up with in the last half an hour, and West Adams was about the same distance from Rancho Park as Marina Del Rey was, just in a different direction; the logistics were certainly there.

            We stormed back into the incident room, telling Marvin to wait where he was, and commandeered the nearest computer terminal.  Charlie typed in ‘West Adams’ to the LAPD search engine and cross referenced it with ‘Saints’. Two matches came back: Mount St. Mary’s College and St. John’s Cathedral.

            ‘Last Sunday’, I repeated. ‘The message was about ‘Last Sunday’. The college wouldn’t be open would it?’

            ‘Must be St. John’s then?’ it was a question from Charlie as much as it was a statement of belief. ‘What do you reckon then Patton? You buying this?’

            ‘We got anything else?’ I asked him.

            ‘No’.

            ‘Then I guess I’m buying’, I said. ‘What about the 11a.m. part?’

            ‘We can check that out when we get there’, Charlie said. ‘We might as well go and have a look. Caldwell hasn’t given us Stella yet has she?’

            It only took a minute for us to run it by Captain Williams, who was as embarrassed as we were that an air-con maintenance man might have deciphered the message before we had. Balfer, promising us that although the FBI files had yet to uncover anything about Caldwell, he would be the first to know if they did, was also along for the ride.

            Rushing back, past Marvin who was still rooted to the spot, I called back to him. ‘Hey, Marv! What do you drink?’

            ‘Jack Daniels, what else?’, he shouted, grinning. ‘Why?’

Why? Because if Marvin was right, I’d be sending him a couple of bottles when it was all said and done, that’s why.

49

            If Tassiker had ever known Sarah Caldwell, or if she had ever been an inmate whilst he was Governor, or indeed even if he remotely recognised the name; his face gave nothing away. For a moment, Axon stared directly at the governor, searching for anything that might indicate that Tassiker knew the name. He saw nothing.

            After a few seconds, the governor shook his head. ‘I’m sorry Detective Axon’, he replied, ‘the name just does not ring a bell. I’ll double check of course’, he added, typing the name into his computer at the desk. ‘But I’m pretty certain. I like to pride myself on remembering names and faces. I am sure that if Sarah Caldwell was ever an inmate here, certainly during my time, I would remember. Particularly as she’s female, far far fewer in number of course than the men’.

            Despite what the governor was telling him, Axon had a gut feeling he was being lied to. ‘If you could double check sir’, he asked. ‘After all, I can remember a lot of the criminals I’ve arrested and locked up in the past but I’m sure one or two names may escape me now, even when pressed. You must have hundreds of inmates here’.

            Tassiker sat back from his terminal. ‘It’s come back with a negative search’, he stressed. ‘You’re welcome to look if you like’. Axon got up and made his way to behind the governor, so he could get an adequate view of the screen. Tassiker typed in the name once more, and Axon saw for himself that the search had returned no results.

            ‘I’m not sure I can be of any more help Detective’, said Tassiker. ‘You seem to have had a wasted journey’.

            ‘Well while I’m here’, Axon pressed on, ‘maybe you could tell me about Dave Barnes?’ Well, there was no way the governor could deny Barnes had worked for him.

            ‘Dave Barnes?’, now Tassiker did look a little surprised. ‘Yes, he used to be a prison guard. Had to sack him several months ago. Why do you want to know about him?’

            ‘Oh, it’s just that his name has come up with an un-related incident in Los Angeles, and I thought while I was here ….’

            ‘Well not much to tell really’, Tassiker replied, ‘He was a solid enough guard, did a fairly good job. Caught him drinking on the job though’, he said gravely. ‘Not something one can tolerate, especially in surroundings such as these’.

            ‘Quite right’, Axon agreed, hoping that the governor would give him
something
he could use. ‘Like you say, especially in these surroundings’.

            He wasn’t getting anything from the governor here that he didn’t already know. Patton and Holland were either wrong or the governor could have been a contender for this year’s Oscars. Deciding to try one last question, he once again studied Tassiker’s face awaiting the response. ‘Just by-the-by’, he questioned. ‘I don’t suppose you know LA’s DA Paul McCrane do you?’

            Once again, nothing on Tassiker’s facial expressions changed to convey that he did. ‘Paul McCrane? I’ve heard of him, of course, but as for knowing him? I’m afraid my dealings here are more-or-less restricted to the San Franciscan authorities. Do I know the San Francisco DA, Jonathan Gray? Of course I do. The LA District Attorney Paul McCrane? No, I’m afraid not’.