Shades of Blue (22 page)
“Music.”
“Do you want them back?”
“Yes, yes of course. What do you want?”
“I will call again.” Then he hangs up.
Cameron replaces the phone. “What the fuck was that?”
Andie sits down, looks at Cameron. “It’s somebody who knows you, knows what you do. What’s on the laptop?”
“But the voice?”
Andie says, “Anybody can buy a device like that at Radio Shack. That or it’s some computer generated software hooked up to his phone. What’s on the laptop?”
Cameron shrugs. “Database, ASCAP files, accounts, personal stuff, phone numbers, you know.” Andie frowns at him, not understanding ASCAP. Cameron gives her a quick sketch of ASCAP and what he does.
“Tell her about the guy that stole your computer in New York.”
Cameron looks at me. “You think it’s the same guy?”
“What guy in New York?” Andie asks.
Cameron tells her about the theft, the mugging, getting the laptop back from the police, talking to the homeless guy Boomer who saw the thief smash the computer and throw it in the dumpster.
“Okay,” Andie says. “Slow down, tell me again.” She makes him tell the whole story again, step by step, then she looks at me. “You weren’t with him?”
“No,” I say, “just when we went to the police and talked to the homeless guy.”
Andie gets up and paces around for a couple of minutes, then stops and turns back to me. “He doesn’t want your tapes, they were just there.”
Cameron and I both look at her, not understanding.
“He’s going to call back and demand money.”
***
While we sit and wait, Andie gets Cameron’s ticket and calls the airlines and asks for the supervisor. “This is FBI Special Agent Andrea Lawrence, San Francisco Bureau.” She recites her identification number. “We’re investigating the movements of a subject on the Homeland Security No Fly List. I need the manifest for your Flight 216, New York to San Francisco.”
She listens for a moment. “I know the flight arrived last night.” She puts her hand over the phone and looks around. “Do you have a fax?” she asks Cameron.
He nods. “In the main house.” He writes the number down for her and she repeats it, relaying it to the airline supervisor.”
“Yes, as soon as possible,” she says into the phone. “Thanks, we appreciate your cooperation.” She hangs up and looks at Cameron. “I want to see if you recognize any of the names.”
“Andie, don’t you need some authorization for this?” I ask.
She just waves me off. “Don’t worry about it.” She holds out her hand. “The key. Where is the fax?”
Cameron takes out a ring of keys and shows her the one for the house. “The fax is in the study on the second floor, but there’s an alarm, just inside the door.” He scribbles down the code and hands her the key.
“Are your parents coming back anytime soon?”
“No, they’re in Europe.”
Andie nods. “Evan, you stay here. If our guy calls back, come get me.” She heads for the door and we watch her walk back up to the house and go inside.
“Man, she doesn’t mess around, does she?” Cameron says.
“You have no idea.”
Twenty minutes later, she’s back with several pages of fax copy. “Nice house,” she says. She hands the fax pages to Cameron. “Take a look.”
Cameron sits down and starts going over the manifest. I glance over his shoulder. There are 287 names.
“Let’s go outside for a minute,” Andie says to me.
We go outside and stand, looking toward the Bay. “Andie, it isn’t worth it. What happens if the bureau gets word of this?”
She shrugs. “I get a reprimand, my hand slapped. If they do I tell them I had to act fast on a tip. I’ll think of something.”
“Yeah, right, Rollins would love that.”
She turns and looks right at me, her eyes blazing. “Fuck Rollins. The only time I want to see his face again is if it’s on a milk carton.”
We turn as Cameron taps on the window and motions us inside. We go back in. He’s circled one of the names and points to it. “This one I know.”
Andie and I both look. “Edward Solano? Who is he?” Andie asks. The name means nothing to either of us.
“Yeah. Slow Hands Eddie. Played in a few bad rock bands in the eighties but wrote a lot of songs, although authorship was never confirmed. He sent a bunch of letters to ASCAP complaining about it and was finally turned down. Case was pending for a long time.”
“So now he wants his money. Do you remember how much he supposedly had coming?”
Cameron shrugs. “Not for sure but I know it wasn’t that much. Few thousand maybe. All the info is on my laptop.”
“This guy is squirrelly. He’s going to call back with a precise amount I bet,” Andie says. She looks at me. “Would he have any idea of what’s on your tapes or what they would be worth?”
“I don’t see how. Nobody knew they even existed till a week ago.”
“Well let’s hope he doesn’t check them out,” Andie says.
“Or just throw them away,” Cameron says. “You’re right. This guy is on a mission. His letters to ASCAP got pretty ugly.”
We wait another half hour, talking over possibilities and then the phone rings again. Cameron answers, keeping it on the speaker. “Hello?”
Again, it’s the computerized voice. “You owe me $14,564.” Andie motions Cameron again to keep him talking “If you had done your job, you could have just written a check. Now you will bring cash.”
“Who is this?” Cameron asks again. “How do I know you have this money coming? I have to check with the office to verify the account.”
“No, no office. You just bring me the money.”
“I can’t do that,” Cameron says. “I have to know who you are.” As he talks, Cameron scribbles a question for Andie. Do I tell him I know? She shakes her head.
“You know who I am. You know I’ve been cheated. I’m tired of waiting. I just want what’s mine.”
Andie nods at Cameron. “All right, I’ll check with the office. I need some time.”
“You have until tomorrow morning at nine o’clock. I will call again.”
Before Cameron can answer, the line goes dead and he switches off the speaker.
“Now what?” Cameron says.
“He’s worried about a trace,” Andie says, “but there’s no way we can do that, not from here.”
Cameron looks at us both. “I can get the money.”
I pace around thinking. Andie jeopardizing her job, Cameron having to account to ASCAP, it’s too much to risk. “Forget it,” I say. “It’s not worth it. You can write off the laptop. I have the CDs. That’s enough.” But they both overrule me.
“No,” Cameron says. “This was my fault. I have to make good.”
Andie says, “I told you not to worry about the bureau. They won’t even know, but there’s something else we have to think about.”
“What?” Cameron says.
“When he calls back he’s going to want you to meet him someplace—alone, probably someplace bad, or possibly a very public place, which for us would be better.”
I look at Andie. “What are you thinking?”
“Don’t fight me on this, Evan. I can’t let Cameron meet this guy alone. It’s too dangerous.”
“Andie—”
She holds up her hand. “That’s it. It’s not going down any other way. Let’s wait and see what he says. If he wants to meet somewhere public, that’s the best case scenario, and he might. I don’t think he’s experienced in this. I can stake it out. He doesn’t know me and we don’t know if he’s seen you.”
Looking at Cameron, I can see his mind reeling. He’s never been here, but I have. I just listen, knowing there’s no stopping Andie now. She wants to make up for the doubt I had about her over Rollins, the file. This is her way.
She grabs her purse. “You stay here, Cameron, just in case he calls sooner.” Then she turns to me. “Evan, I need you to take me home.”
I nod. I know what that means. She wants her gun.
***
Driving back into the city, we don’t say much. Andie, I know is working things out in her head. We stop at a coffee shop for dinner and she makes me run through the whole story from finding Cameron on his front step when I came back from Boston, going with him to the police precinct to get the computer, talking with the homeless guy, who was the one witness, the whole thing. She just nods, not interrupting me. When our order comes, she digs in without looking up for several minutes, then smiles at me.
“You know, it feels good to be involved with something,” she says, “even unofficially.”
Despite my misgivings, I feel the rush of adrenaline. I know exactly what she means. “If something goes wrong it will be official,” I say watching her. But she ignores my comment. She’s pumped, excited, calling on her instincts.
“I’ll deal with that when it happens. One more thing, You didn’t have the tapes yet did you, when Cameron was mugged?”
“No, that was after.”
“Okay.” She finishes eating and signals the waitress for more coffee. “It’s not likely he knows anything about them, right?”
“If he’s who Cameron thinks he is, no. Sounds like a rock and roller. Even if he played them, and that’s very unlikely, I doubt if he’d know what they were.”
“Why unlikely?”
“He’d need an old style reel-to-reel tape recorder to play them. It’s all digital now, CD players, cassette, downloading from computers.”
Andie nods, as if confirming her own thoughts. “You ready to get out of here?”
“Yeah, sure.” I stand up and grab the check.
She touches my arm. “Relax, Evan. I know what I’m doing.”
At Andie’s apartment, there’s a note taped to her door. She grabs it, shows it to me. It’s from Ted Rollins, wanting her to call. He’s underlined urgent.
We go inside. She picks up the phone and dials. “Rollins? It’s Andie.” I watch her roll her eyes and hold the phone away from her ear a few inches. I can hear Rollins’ voice angrily booming through the phone.
“Look, Ted, settle down. I was just following up on something I’d heard about.” More static from Rollins, then. “Yes I’m home now. I was down at the river with Evan.” She sighs with exasperation. “I know I’m still on medical leave. That doesn’t mean I can’t go out or make a couple of calls. No, you don’t have to remind me. Goodbye.”
She slams down the phone and looks at me. “The airline guy called the bureau for confirmation on my I.D.” She shrugs. “It got back to Rollins. I’m a bad girl.”
“Is he going to push it?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Andie—”
“Don’t. Let me handle this. We’re going to get your tapes back.” She goes to her desk and opens her laptop. “I need some time, okay? Watch a movie or something.”
I don’t argue. I turn on the TV and find an old movie.
The Friends of Eddie Coyle
, with Robert Mitchum and Peter Boyle. One of the characters is an FBI agent, pressuring Mitchum for information on bank robberies in exchange for a lighter sentence. In the end, it doesn’t work, everything goes all wrong for Mitchum and he’s killed. Not very reassuring.
As the credits roll, my cell phone rings. It’s Cameron.
Andie looks up from her computer as I answer. I listen for a minute as he tells me Solano called back. “He wants me to be at a Borders Book store in San Rafael at ten thirty tomorrow morning.”
Andie gets up and walks over. “Wait, tell Andie.” I hand her the phone.
“Cameron? Tell me exactly what he said.” She listens for a couple of minutes, nods then, “Okay, I’ll be there but don’t under any circumstances acknowledge me, understand?” She listens again. “Okay, here’s Evan.”
She hands me the phone. “He wants to talk to you again.”
“Evan? Is this going to work?”
“Let’s hope so. See you tomorrow.” I end the call and look at Andie. She punches the air with her fist. “Yes, yes, yes,” she says. “This is perfect. A very public place, lots of people. We let him make the contact with Cameron and we’ve got him.”
“If he brings the computer,” I say.
“Oh, he’ll bring it. He wants his money.”
“I’m going too, right?”
She smiles. “Of course. You’re going to be my date.”
I go through the motions of trying to talk her out of it, get her to turn it over to the bureau, let them handle it, but it’s no go. Andie wants this bust herself, and I realize it’s not all to get my tapes back. She can prove she’s ready for field work again if she pulls it off.
I try to play devil’s advocate, suggesting a number of things that could go wrong, Cameron could panic, give it away, the guy could freak out. We don’t know if he’s coming armed. The list is long but Andie doesn’t buy any of it.
She listens, nods, but in the end, nothing changes. “It’s very sweet of you to worry so much, but I know we can make this work. I know no matter what you say, you want those tapes back. Evan, that’s your real father playing on those tapes.”
She has me there and she knows it.
We pull into the Borders parking lot in San Rafael just after nine thirty. The cavernous book store anchors the sprawling strip mall, and there are the usual other smaller shops—a deli, a mattress store, and a tiny cafe that advertises internet connections. The parking lot is about half full of cars, early shoppers getting a jump on things.
Andie is dressed casually in jeans, sweatshirt, running shoes, and sun glasses. Just another young woman dragging her boyfriend out for some early browsing. The difference with Andie is she has a gun tucked in her shoulder bag.
There are several tables in front, an extension of the coffee bar just inside the double glass doors. Given the number of cars in the lot, it’s less crowded than I imagined. “Go look at some books,” Andie says. “I want to see if there’s a rear entrance.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, giving her a mock salute. I wander through the bargain tables where best sellers from three months ago are going for $6.95. Even Stephen King and John Grisham are there. In the mystery section, I skim titles, picking up a book now and then, pausing at a display of a new novel by Michael Connelly, one of Cal’s favorites. I also periodically check the entrance for any sign of Cameron Brody, then gradually work my way back to the coffee area. There are only a few people sipping morning lattes and poring over magazines and newspapers, but business is picking up fast.
I spot Andie surveying the area, taking the measure of the place where Cameron is supposed to meet our guy. I circle around Andie and make for the information booth near the center of the store just as Cameron Brody comes through the double glass doors, a small manila envelope in his hand.
He flicks a glance at me for just a moment, then continues on toward the coffee area. I catch Andie’s eye, nod toward Cameron. She nods back and I go outside for a cigarette, standing off to the side, behind a pillar by a large concrete barrel filled with sand. I glance at my watch. Just after ten. The parking lot is fast filling up now. I scan the cars, the people coming toward the store, looking for somebody with a laptop case slung over his shoulder. All I want now is for this to be over.
Despite Andie’s assurances and enthusiasm, there are too many variables, too many things that can go wrong. The whole thing is crazy but we’re here now and committed. Tapes or not, I almost hope the guy doesn’t show up.
I put my cigarette out and turn to go back inside when somebody tugs on my arm.
I turn and see Ted Rollins, wearing his usual smirk. “Morning,” he says, enjoying the surprise on my face.
“What are you doing here, Rollins?”
“I followed you here and I know Andie is inside. What’s she doing?”
“Looking for a book I imagine.”
“Cut the bullshit, Horne. I know she’s up to something. She’s already in trouble for that airline manifest stunt yesterday. Don’t make it worse.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Good, then let’s go inside and say hello.”
He puts his hand on my elbow, as if he’s going to escort me inside. I pull away from him. “I don’t need any help,” I say.
At the double glass door entrance, two young moms, pushing baby strollers the size of golf carts, are just coming out. I duck around them, leaving Rollins blocked long enough for me to get ahead of him. I duck down an aisle and circle around past the coffee bar. Cameron is seated at one table, looking around, trying I know, to be casual, but he’s not making it. His eyes are darting everywhere and there’s a light sheen of sweat on his forehead.
Andie is at an adjacent table, her back to me, a coffee in front of her, flipping through a magazine but not really looking at the pages. Rollins comes up, walking fast, looking up and down aisles, searching for Andie.
Cameron looks at me in panic, realizing this is not the plan. I’m not supposed to be there. I point to Andie, hoping he’ll get the message I want her attention. He freezes for a moment, confused, then turns and taps on her shoulder. She turns, glances at him, then over his shoulder at me and glares. I point behind me with my thumb.
She turns and looks. Rollins is coming back fast, almost to the coffee bar area now, scanning the tables. Andie sees him at the same time he sees her. She gets up quickly, leaving her table at the very moment a short wiry guy with graying hair sits down with Cameron.
Rollins veers off to intercept Andie. He catches her by the arm and spins her around. The other people in the area look up at the disturbance, including the guy at Cameron’s table. He looks at Cameron, confused, then gets up and bolts for the exit.
Rollins sees him and starts toward Cameron’s table but Andie, furious, sticks out her foot and trips Rollins. He goes sprawling into a table of two women, who scream as coffee cups go flying and the table tips over. Rollins lands in a heap, coffee on his suit, trying to scramble to his feet, apologizing to the women, his eyes on our guy all at the same time.
By then, Eddie Solano is long gone.
***
“You fucking idiot,” Andie says to Rollins. “That guy wasn’t a terrorist. He was meeting with him.” She points to Cameron Brody.
After Rollins’ spill, the manager showed up, apologized to the women and demanded an explanation. Rollins had flashed his I.D, said everything was under control, and we all went outside to the parking lot.
Rollins glares at Andie. “I know something was going down here and I want to know right now what it is.”
Andie walks a few paces away then back. “I don’t have to explain anything to you. What the hell were you doing following me anyway?”
A few people walking by glance at the four of us but keep going, walking slowly to their cars. So close I think, but now Rollins has blown the whole thing.
“You told the airlines supervisor he was on the no fly list. What do you think you’re doing without authorization? I would have brought in backup and handled the whole thing.”
“The guy was on the same flight.” She points again to Cameron. “He picked up his laptop by mistake. We were just meeting here to get it back.”
“Oh please,” Rollins says. He turns, his feet planted, hands on his hips, coffee stains on his shirt and tie. “I need to see some identification,” he says to Cameron.
“No,” Andie says. She pushes Rollins away, out of earshot, and they walk between a row of parked cars.
“Now what?” Cameron says. “I don’t care about the computer, but your tapes, man. Is she going to get in trouble for this?”
“She can handle him,” I say. We watch as Rollins and Andie have stopped and Andie is shaking her finger in his face.
“He didn’t have the computer,” Cameron says, “unless it was in his car.”
“I know. I think he wanted to check things out first. Andie could have taken him quietly right there in the coffee area if Rollins hadn’t shown up. He followed us here.”
I see Rollins saying something to Andie, then stomp off toward his car and get in. He rolls down the window, gives Andie a parting shot, and drives off, tires screeching. She watches him go and stalks back toward us, her eyes flashing.
“God, he’s an asshole,” Andie says. “He was sniffing around for a bust.” She sighs and leans against a car and crosses her arms over her chest. “He’s going to file a report on all this.”
“I’m sorry,” Cameron says. “This was all my fault.”
“Forget it,” Andie says. “He’s bluffing. I told him he’d have to explain causing an incident and Borders was going to file a complaint. Besides, I’m in good standing. I got shot in the line of duty.” She looks at me. “I also called him on mailing the file.” Andie smiles as she says it. “You should have seen the look on his face.”
Shocked because she knew or because he didn’t know what she was talking about? I can’t decide which it is.
“What file?” Cameron asks, but Andie doesn’t answer him.
“Did you recognize the guy?” she asks Cameron.
“No,” Cameron says. “But that must have been him. He just came in and sat down.”
“Did he say anything?”
“He started to then, when he saw that guy crashing into the table, he jumped up and left. He didn’t have the computer with him either. We’ve scared him off entirely but maybe he’ll call back.”
“Yeah,” Andie says. “It’s not over, but if he does call, it’s going to be different now.”
“Hey wait, guys,” I say. “Let’s let it go. It’s too complicated now. Andie, you’re going to get yourself suspended.”
Andie looks at me, still angry about Rollins’ intervention. “You know what? I don’t really care. I’m so sick of working with jerks like Rollins.”
“Andie, you don’t mean that.”
She lets her head fall forward. “Maybe,” she says quietly. “Dammit, we almost had him. Did you have the money?” she asks Cameron.
“Yes,” Cameron says. He takes the envelope out of his jacket pocket.
“Okay, here’s what we do,” she says. “It’ll take Rollins time to stir up things, if he actually does. Let’s wait and see if the guy calls back again. Then we’ll go from there.”
They both look at me. There’s no stopping Andie, I can see that. She hates to fail and she’s determined not to now. I shrug. “It’s your call. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”
“I always know what I’m doing.” She starts off back to the store. “I’ll be right back,” she calls over her shoulder.
“Man, she is something.”
“You have no idea,” I say.
“What was the file she was talking about?”
“It’s a long story. Nothing to do with this. I’ll tell you sometime maybe.” I light a cigarette, looking around the parking lot. People are coming and going, totally unaware two FBI agents had clashed over an extortionist.
Andie comes back then. “I smoothed things over with the manager so he won’t report anything. Let’s go.”
We all drive back to Tiburon and wait in the guest house, admiring the view, making small talk, trying not to check our watches every five minutes.
Now, I almost hope we don’t get a call, tapes or not. Andie can finesse her way out of any trouble Rollins can cause her. No harm done so far. But half an hour later he does call, just after noon. This time the voice is not synthesized.
“I told you to come alone,” the caller says. There’s an edge to his voice now, a desperate note we can all hear. “Those were cops in Borders weren’t they?”
“It was all a mistake,” Cameron says.
“Yes, your mistake. Now we do it differently, and this is your last chance. If I don’t get my money, you can forget your computer and I’ll destroy those tapes. I don’t care what’s on them, understand?”
Andie listens and nods at Cameron.
“Yes, I understand.”
“Good. Tonight then, at Hunters Point. Ten o’clock. Building C-128, by the water.” Then he hangs up before Cameron can acknowledge.
Andie and Cameron both glance at each other. He hits the hang up button and we listen to the drone of a dial tone for a moment through the speaker.
I look at both of them. “What? What’s Hunter’s Point?”
“Worst possible place,” Cameron says. “The old Navy Shipyard, right on the Bay. Mostly deserted now except for some artists who have leased a few buildings and made them into studios. It’s very exposed, bad, dangerous area, especially at night. Lot of gang activity nearby.”
“He’s right,” Andie says. “I’ve heard about it.” Andie grabs her cell phone. “I’m going for a walk,” she says. “I need to think about this. Have you got a map of the city?”
Cameron nods. “I think so.” He shuffles through some papers and magazines on a book shelf and comes up with one from a car rental company.
“Good,” Andie says, then she leaves.
I suggest to Cameron we go get some coffee. We get in my car and start down the hill. I see Andie walking, head down in measured steps. I pull alongside her and stop. “Hey, we’re going for some coffee. Want me to bring you back something?”
She stops and looks up. “No, I’m fine. I’ll get something later.”
I drive on, watching Andie in the rearview mirror till she’s out of sight. We find a coffee place Cameron knows near the waterfront and sit at the outside tables. We order coffee and some sweet rolls, listening to the water lap against the landing pier.
“She got shot?”
“She did, in a bank robbery that went wrong.”
“Jesus,” Cameron says. “She is tough.”
“So tell me about Hunter’s Point.”
“There was a big write-up about it a few months ago.” He goes on for several minutes telling me about the shipyard and its landlord, the U.S. Navy. There are about three or four hundred artists—painters, sculptors, some musicians—that have rented some of the old buildings and turned them into studios. Once a year they have a big art festival that draws thousands and that’s where a lot of the artists make their money and connections for galleries around the city.
In addition, the San Francisco Police Department’s crime lab occupies some buildings, as well as the SWAT team headquarters. There’s also a railroad museum.
“The Navy has been required to clean it up before it can be transferred to the city so they have to tear up sewer lines, storm drains, and test for contamination. The yard had been used as a repair facility and decontamination of ships exposed to atomic weapons, so everybody leasing space is going to have to move out. The shipyard was deactivated in the mid seventies. A lot of testing has been done since then and only low levels of radioactive materials have been found. Once it’s cleaned up, the city is taking over and planning on turning it into commercial and retail space, parks, housing, but that will take years.”
“So at night, it’s deserted huh?”
“Pretty much, and I imagine a very spooky place,” Cameron says. “I have an artist friend who was there for awhile. I went during the day to visit him. It’s weird. All the old navy signs are still on the buildings. It’s like a ghost town, going back in time. The artists who rent are not supposed to sleep over there but it’s not very well enforced.”
“This guy must know it or he would never have decided to meet there.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Cameron says. “He even gave me a building number. He either has friends there or has spent some time.”
I look out over the water. The ferry from San Francisco is just pulling in. “So, open, deserted for the most part, abandoned buildings. Not a great place to meet some guy to exchange money for a laptop computer.”
