The Betrayal (26 page)

34

Roadblock

Thursday, February 11, 12:45 a.m.

Boone watched Carl Earl grunt his way back into the phony Addison Streets and San septic tanker truck cab and slowly roll away from the back of the Quonset hut.

Boone pulled the door shut, freezing to his core, face stinging, shoulder throbbing. It had been too long between meds. He was none too happy to see Officer Unger from the counter out front still hovering.

“Where's the Mexican?” the undercover guard said.

“Probably sleeping,” Jack said.

“No way. He usually watches TV till three, and there's no way he'd have slept through all this.”

Jack peeled off his coat. “Maybe he's looking after his family. When we're here, we've got him, so just assume he's safe and sound.”

“I'd better check. It's my tail if anything goes wrong.”

Jack stepped between Unger and the hallway leading to the Candelarios' bedrooms. “We've got it. Anybody hassles you, you tell 'em you checked with the officer in charge.”

“No harm in peeking in to make sure everybody's—”

“Stand down! I said we've got it.”

“You're not my superior officer, Keller, at least not on this job.”

“I'd advise you not to test that theory, Unger. This witness and his family are under my jurisdiction, and—”

“And so you ought to be happy I'm making sure of their—”

“Back to your post, man. I'm not going to say it again.”

Unger set his jaw and appeared to try to stare Jack down. “Okay, but it's not going to be my funeral. You know I got to cover my own backside.”

“Do whatever you've got to do,” Jack said. “But leave this family to us.”

As Unger headed back through the maze toward the front, Boone heard him on his cell. “We've got a problem. I can't get a visual on the family, and Keller isn't allowing me to . . .”

Boone's and Jack's phones rang simultaneously. Fletch.

“Follow that truck!” he said. “Wade just took a call from the perimeter guard saying someone saw people climbing into it.”

Boone and Jack caught each other's eyes. The closest route to Jack's car was the way they had come in. Boone could see on Jack's face that he was considering the same thing Boone was: heading out the back and around the side of the building to the car. But there wasn't time.

They rushed through the hanging plastic strips and down the dark corridor to the other set of the same. Just past those, Jack banged on the wall. As it slid open he hurried past the counter with Boone a step behind.

“I shouldn't have opened that,” Unger said, his sleepy partner suddenly appearing alert and curious. “Downtown wants you to stay put until somebody calls you.”

“Yeah?” Jack said. “Well, be a doll and take a message, will you, sweetie?”

As Jack and Boone reached the front door, Unger yelled into his walkie-talkie, “K-9! Do not let these officers reach their vehicle! Security breach!”

Jack burst through the door, and as the piercing wind hit Boone's face, he saw the trainer, Williams, burst from his shack and heard him cue the dogs. As they came snarling into view, Jack stopped dead. Boone pulled his Beretta and rested his shooting arm across Jack's shoulder.

“Williams!” Boone bellowed. “Control those dogs if you don't want 'em shot dead! Now you know Chief Keller and you trust him.”

“I thought I did, yes, sir.”

“He's going to go start our car and I'm going to cover him from right here. You make a move for your piece or allow those dogs to take one step toward either of us, you'll wish you hadn't.”

“We're all at ease, Drake,” Williams said.

Jack slipped away, the dogs following him with their eyes. When the car roared to life, Boone moved slowly toward the gate, gun still leveled at the dogs. “When this all shakes down, Officer, you're going to be glad you were on the right side of it.”

As soon as he was through the gate he kicked it shut. Boone was about to holster his weapon when he noticed Williams reaching for the flap snapped over his sidearm. He crouched by the car, aiming directly at the man. “That'll be the worst decision you'll ever make. And the last.”

Williams looked frustrated beyond words. He had the bearing of a former special forces veteran, and Boone knew it would haunt him to have been subdued. “When this is all said and done,” Boone said, moving to the car door, “we'll talk and you'll thank me.”

“You'd better hope that's all I do!”

Boone put his gun away and got into the car, trying to buckle up as Jack punched the accelerator and the squad fishtailed. “Easy,” Boone said. “You won't do us any good stuck in the snow.”

“No way Carl gets past that pickup. You know Quincy is watching for him. I swear, Boones, somebody's gonna die before they get to that family, and it's not going to be me. Good work back there, by the way. Glad you didn't have to shoot that cannon right next to my ear.”

“I didn't want to have to kill a dog, let alone Williams.”

“He's a good guy. He has to know that if something's gone bad, it's not because of us.”

Boone called Carl. “They're onto us! You within sight of the pickup yet?”

“Terrific. No, this road is so bumpy I'm trying to go easy on my passengers. This yahoo gonna try to stop me, is that what you're tellin' me?”

“No doubt.”

“Well, I ain't stoppin'. Fact, I'm gonna slow down and let you catch up. If you got your man's phone number, tell him and his family to hold on, because I'm blasting through whatever they try to set up.”

Boone found the connection to Pascual sketchy—no surprise, with him surrounded by metal. “Can you hear me, PC?”

Jose was crying in the background. “Just barely, man! We're freezing and it's hard to hang on!”

“Well, hold tight, because they're going to try to stop you.”

“You should've given me a piece, Drake! How'm I supposed to defend my family?”

“By staying right where you are. You know we won't let anybody even start up the ladder.”

“I'm countin' on you!”

The taillights of Carl's truck appeared around the next bend, and Jack flashed his lights. Carl sped up with about a quarter mile to go to the pickup. Boone saw the truck bouncing and swaying and could only imagine what it had to be like for the family, hanging on for their lives in pitch-blackness—and freezing.

Boone called Carl again. “Put your phone on speaker so you can drive with both hands!”

“I'm telling you, Drake, I'm not stopping for this guy.”

“Roger. Just know that he knows you're coming. And we have no idea how many others are here and know too.”

Sleet hit the squad's windshield, and slush also began to fly up from the truck's back tires. Jack sprayed the window and turned on the wipers. As soon as the blades cut a patch through which they could see, it became clear that Quincy had pulled the pickup across the gravel road.

“I couldn't have hoped for more!” Carl squealed. “I disobeyed, you know!”

“Say again?” Boone said.

“I'm packin'!”

“You hold your fire!” Jack yelled. “Do whatever else you have to do, but no shooting!”

“C'mon, Jack! I know how these things work. I'm automatically a sworn officer for this assignment and covered by CPD insurance. You know I'll take care of business!”

Boone caught sight of the speedometer as Jack punched the gas to keep up. At thirty-five miles an hour on packed snow over pitted gravel, Carl's tanker swerved right as if to go around the back of the pickup. As Quincy threw the pickup into reverse, Carl swung the other way and headed around the front of him, left tires off the road and into the soft drifts, the tanker bouncing and reeling.

Quincy quickly shifted into drive and shot in front of Carl, and the tanker blasted into the front-left tire of the pickup, spinning the smaller truck till it was facing the squad. Jack slammed on the brakes and the car fishtailed, slamming the pickup in the same spot with the back-right quarter panel of the Crown Vic. The impact threw Boone into his own door and then back into Jack, his obliterated shoulder taking the brunt. He howled.

As the pickup spun, having been pushed hard twice by speeding vehicles, its door swung open and Quincy was thrown into the ditch on the other side of the road.

“Gun!” Boone shouted, pulling his own and trying to lower his window with the same hand. A deafening report came from twenty feet past the totaled pickup, which had come to rest with its headlights illuminating Quincy as he dropped in a heap, a hole ripped from one ear through to the other.

“Carl!” Jack shouted.

“He was aimin' to kill you two, Jack!”

“Just get going! We're not alone!”

From the crossroad came three vehicles at top speed, one of them a CPD squad with siren blaring and lights flashing. The other two were late-model luxury cars reminiscent of Pascual Candelario's former colleagues. “A hundred to one Jazzy Villalobos is driving one of those,” Boone said.

“He's driving into eternity,” Jack said. “Get Fletch to call off any roadblocks between here and the city. And find out where we're supposed to go.”

As the marked squad passed the crash site behind them, Boone heard over the police radio on the dash, “Officer down at the safe house!”

35

The Caravan

Thursday, February 11, 12:57 a.m.

Boone heard rubber on metal behind him to the right and knew the unmarked squad had sustained damage in the crash with the pickup. The blue-and-white immediately caught up to Jack, aiming its spotlight at the rearview mirror.

“He doesn't want to play with me,” Jack said, aiming his own spotlight directly back into the driver's eyes.

“Clear out of the way, Officer!” came a voice from the PA speaker in the grille. “In pursuit of that truck!”

Jack grabbed the police radio transmitter. “Back off! We're sentries for that vehicle. Do not interfere!”

When the marked squad car made a move to pass, Jack swerved into its path.

“You are impeding a police department operation!” the officer behind radioed.

“I was about to say the same!” Jack said. “Who am I speaking to?”

“Antoine Johnson of the 18th precinct. I've been given authority to apprehend this truck.”

“You're a long way from your jurisdiction, Officer. As your superior, I am ordering you to cease and desist, and we will sort this out later.”

“No can do, Keller. Sorry.”

“You don't know how sorry. Who are the gangbangers following you?”

There was a pause. Then, “I am alone, sir. But I am arranging for backup, so be prepared to stop.”

Boone was on the phone with Fletch. “So Johnson actually identified himself?” Galloway said. “That puts the nails in Wade's coffin. I'll get the superintendent to call off any roadblocks.”

Boone told him about the two cars behind Johnson.

“They won't dare get caught in a roadblock anyway. I want them before they peel off. Where are you?”

Boone told him.

“I'll get squads in the area to apprehend them. Have your man in the truck head for the precinct station house on North Sedgwick.”

“Roger. Just a few blocks from where the SWAT team is in place, right?”

“Correct. SWAT reports that Wade has left the condo. Somebody's following him. And Haeley's phone is still transmitting. On his way out Wade told his wife that if it rings, Haeley should answer it and say she's back in her hotel, that she was in a shelter for a while and her phone was dead. From what we can tell, it's only Thelma Wade and Haeley there now. We've got the phone transferring speech to text if you want to read it.”

“Impossible in the car, Chief. Where can I hear it?”

Fletcher gave him the IP address where he could access the audio.

And as the unlikely caravan made its way from the Eisenhower to the Kennedy, Boone punched in the numbers that gave him access to Haeley's transmitting cell phone. It sounded as if it were within ten feet of the voices.

“. . . and you know all this about your husband and me and Officer Fox how?”

“I have my ways.”

“He told you?”

“I didn't need him to tell me,” Thelma said. “I have eyes. And ears.”

“And you're smart.”

“Yes, young lady, as a matter of fact, I am.”

“Then you know it's all a lie.”

“Of course I do.”

“You can't be happy about that,” Haeley said.

“I wouldn't be happy either way. If it was true, I'd want to strangle him. That he made it up makes it worse. Would you be happy if you were me?”

“Happy about my husband using me?” Haeley said. “No, ma'am, I would not. If you're as smart as you say you are, and as smart as you seem, I'm guessing you haven't been happy for a long time.”

There was a lengthy silence. Finally, Haeley spoke again. “So, where did those two go?”

“I believe Peter went to his office. What could look more innocent than that? That's where he likes to be found when everything has gone down just as he planned it.”

“And Fox?”

“Back into his hole. I don't know. He's got some ratty apartment downtown, and he has to lie low. He's angling for some kind of a deal, but he won't get it unless he sings real loud. And I don't guess Peter will let him do that, if you know what I mean.”

“Let me ask you something,” Haeley said. “How long have you known, and why have you let it go on?”

Another pause. Then, “The truth about Peter? For years. But the kids don't know. They don't even know about this place. For all they know we got a good deal on a house in the suburbs and have two nice cars.”

“How do you live with it?”

“I knew he wasn't behaving himself almost from the beginning of our marriage. And when he started putting stuff in my name, I thought he owed it to me. He
did
owe it to me. And I liked it at first. But no amount of stuff can make things all right. Before I knew it, I was as deep into everything as he was.”

“You can't leave?”

Boone heard a long sigh and assumed it was Mrs. Wade's.

Jack said, “Hey, Boones, check out behind us.”

Boone couldn't turn around because of his shoulder, so he lowered the sun visor and adjusted the mirror to where he could see. Several squad cars had seemed to appear out of nowhere and were pulling over the two cars behind Johnson's squad.

“That's not going to end well,” Jack said. “Especially if one of 'em really is Villalobos. He's got nothing to lose.”

From the other direction a half dozen lit-up squads screamed through the darkness, exiting and coming across the bridge to enter the expressway from the other side. The gangbangers had waited too long to make their move. There would be no escaping now. Boone hoped there wouldn't be a gunfight, but he could hardly imagine another scenario.

“Antoine Johnson sticks with us and he'll have an awful lot of answering to do,” Jack said.

“He'll claim he was just following orders and had no idea.”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “And the sun might rise in the west tomorrow.”

Boone watched the sea of blue flashing lights until they disappeared behind him, as he listened for more between Haeley and Mrs. Wade. He was amazed at Haeley's poise.

“They think I can be bought?”

“Believe it or not,” Mrs. Wade said. “You're going to get offered a lot of money. Otherwise, I wouldn't be optimistic about your future.”

“Ironic, isn't it, trying to buy me off when I'm accused of taking a bribe?”

“I'll say.”

Boone dialed Haeley's cell. He heard someone approach, then Mrs. Wade read off the number.

“That's probably Boone,” Haeley said. “I'd better take it.”

“You know what to do.”

Click.

“Hi, Boone!”

“‘Hi, Boone'? Awful cheery for someone I've been trying to reach since—”

“I'm sorry. There was a fire alarm at my hotel, and since I didn't have my coat on, I was one of many the Salvation Army took in. And when I got back, my phone went dead. Guess I'd been charging it from an outlet that had a switch, and I didn't know it was off.”

“So where are you now?”

“Back at the hotel. Everything's fine.”

“Can anybody else hear me?”

“No, I'm fine.”

“Tell her you'll take the deal.”

“Sorry?”

“Tell her you could use the money. Who couldn't?”

“But, what, how—?”

“We're monitoring it; now play along.”

“Okay then, Boone. I'll see you tomorrow. . . . Love you too.”

“Very good, missy,” Thelma Wade said.

Boone listened carefully but didn't hear the phone being set down. Maybe he could risk texting her.

“I don't need any more trouble,” Haeley said. “Anyway, how much money?”

“Depends. I think Peter wants you to testify against Fox. Say Garrett forced you, extorted you, tried to ruin your new relationship.”

“In a way, that's true.”

“Then take the money,” Thelma said. “That's the only thing that will make all this worth it.”

“Worth it? All I've been through? How about you? What makes it worth it for you?”

Mrs. Wade snorted. “Nothing. I just don't care anymore. Whatever I ever hoped for, that ship has sailed. But if I don't play this all the way out, I wind up in jail myself.”

“But come on, ma'am. Talk about being intimidated, forced.”

“I let Peter do it. I'm an accomplice.”

“So testify against him to keep yourself free.”

“Against my own husband. Against the father of my children.”

“How different is that from what you're suggesting I do?”

“It's not going to happen,” Mrs. Wade said.

“Where are we, anyway?” Haeley said. “I'm brought here blindfolded with no idea—”

“You're not far from where you started.”

“So all those turns . . . I tried to keep track, but I was getting dizzy.”

“They just don't want you getting any ideas.”

Boone took a chance, believing from the relative clarity of the voices that Haeley still had the phone. He texted her.
Next ring, say it's your mother.

“Getting a message?” Mrs. Wade said.

“My girlfriend. I can call her later.”

Her phone rang. “My mother,” she said. “Should I take it?”

“Yes, but remember—”

“Hi, Mom!”

“Order a pizza,” Boone said.

“Sorry?”

“Tell her you're hungry.”

“Doing fine. Hoping to get back to work soon. I'm kind of busy right now. Can I call you tomorrow?”

“SWAT will bring the pizza.”

“Love you too, Mom!”

Fletch texted:
Cops untouched. Three gangbangers in custody. Villalobos to morgue.

Suicide by cop?
Boone tapped in, wondering whether Jazzy had come out shooting, forcing the police to return fire.

No. Suicide by suicide. Must have seen no way out. That made his boys give up easily.

Relieved.

Me too, Drake. How close are you?

Ten minutes.

Call me.

Boone dialed, and when Fletch came on, Boone told him of the pizza idea.

“Perfect. Just tell us when. Wade's taking calls from Johnson; Johnson is telling him where you guys are. We followed Fox home, Wade to the office. Tell Jack we'll have backup at Sedgwick even though we don't think Johnson is dangerous. He's influenced by Wade. We'll intervene there so Jack and Antoine can have it out while PC and his family are being extracted. Then I'll meet you in the garage at our office.”

“What's your plan, Chief?”

“Just going to show up in Pete's office. His look will tell me all I need to know, not that there's any mystery left.”

“And I can come with you?”

“I may need backup.”

“No, you won't.”

“But you wouldn't want to miss this, would you, Drake?”

“Not for a million dollars.”