The Body of David Hayes (22 page)

The trick was to get some of this same equipment—a small GPS and a voice-recording device—onto Boldt without him being descended upon by technicians. Riz’s solution was to leave the equipment in a men’s room stall, and to direct Boldt to visit the rest room upon his arrival at SPD, which he did. From the bathroom, now wearing the two devices, he proceeded directly to Property and signed out for the bright red disk that had been in the possession of Tony LaRossa as he’d collapsed from his heart attack. He took the man’s bank ID access card as well, already foreseeing its future use. With Boldt being lieutenant in charge of Crimes Against Persons, there wasn’t anything the Property sergeant was going to deny him. He signed the requisite forms, accepted the plastic bags bearing the chain of possession, all carefully detailed in indelible marker, and returned to the Crown Vic at a slow jog, moving a few uniformed officers out of his way while checking his watch on the fly. Ten minutes in which to reach the exit of I-5 north.

Whoever had planned this for him had timed it to within seconds. He knew immediately that the drop was to be just as perfectly timed, that he would be pushed right to the limit to accommodate the demands.

As it was, he hit the street with the pedal down, built-in grill and window lights pulsing the blinding blue light, clearing traffic.

Eight minutes to go. It would be a miracle, but he just might make it.

Several miles above him, in the cold black void of space, satellites tracked his every turn, and Pahwan Riz—in the steam-cleaning van, with a team of four unmarked vehicles—followed at a distance, never letting Boldt out of his sight.

THE KNOCK ON THE BACK
door sounded like a gunshot as it banged off the walls of the kitchen and ran through Liz like a jolt of electricity.

“It’s okay,” said Bobbie Gaynes, a wire in her ear leading from a walkie-talkie. “It’s Officer Foreman, BCI. I’ll get the door. You sit tight.”

Liz had made them both some Red Zinger tea, and she noticed the steam in the light of a lamp as it swirled and tried to follow Gaynes, dissipating a few inches from the cup. She felt this way too—her energy fading the longer Lou stayed away. First the kids, then Lou. She felt as if all the love in this home had lost its way. She blew on her own tea and took a sip and returned the mug to the coaster, noticing that it shook slightly in her grip and wondering how much more of this she could endure.

She heard Danny Foreman’s sonorous voice interspersed with the female chimes of Gaynes’s and, a moment later, the back door thump shut. Foreman entered the living room asking if she had a minute. He carried what looked like a silver Palm Pilot in hand, and kept it in his lap as he
sat down. He looked tired and worn. He glanced over at Gaynes’s mug of tea, grabbed hold, and drank from it, savoring the taste. She found his brazenness disturbing and thought it some kind of sign, a signal that she should have interpreted more clearly.

“Where to start?” he asked, peering over the mug as he took a second noisy sip.

“Lou’s not here,” she said.

“I’m up to speed on that.”

“I’m not. Not exactly.”

“He’s busy.”

“Well, that certainly clarifies things.”

“It’s to our benefit he’s occupied.”

“Is it?”

“What I’m about to tell you is strictly confidential. I can only assume that a banker knows all about confidentiality, and I can only hope that despite what I presume to be your loyalty and devotion to your husband, you
keep
this confidential.”

“Message received.” She made no agreement, extremely careful of her word selection. Lou had warned her to expect such a meeting; how he anticipated such things was beyond her, but she was glad for it now.

“It affects us all, Liz, and is not to be taken lightly.”

“Do you think I’m taking
any
of this lightly?”

Foreman returned an unsympathetic stare.

“I know how painful the past is for you, Danny. We’re alike in that way, I think. We’re both stuck. And I’ll tell you something, I’m not going to help you, or Lou, or anyone with this investigation for the sake of the investigation. I want to get unstuck. That’s all I care about. So if you’re
looking for a helping hand, you’ve picked the wrong time for me.”

“Paul Geiser and I were behind the disappearance of David Hayes.” He threw it out and let it wrap itself around her until she found it hard to breathe. He continued, “We had to get him off the radar of a major player, a guy you don’t need to know about. But it had to be done. Hayes wanted to cut a deal to turn state’s witness—and if you, or Lou, or anyone else questions Paul, I guarantee you he’ll pull a Sergeant Schultz on you. He’ll deny any knowledge of any of this, as well he should. Hayes has agreed to recover the missing money and to implicate the man whose money it was. We’re assuming that you’ve been compromised either by Hayes or this bigger player, and I don’t need you to answer that either way, but the reason Lou is not being included in on this is just that: because we believe you’ve been compromised. Lou is so by-the-book that we didn’t trust he’d agree to let you run this software for Hayes. I’m here to plead with you to do just that. In a very short time Hayes will have the software necessary to pull this off. Once he does, we can assign a government account as the destination account. You can wire that money over to the government instead of risking it disappearing again. Do so, and it’s done. Hayes gets his plea, the player goes away, and your life gets back to normal.” He paused to let her absorb the scenario. “Sunday night, before the reception, you will receive the instructions either here at your home or on your cell. You follow them to the letter, and it’s over.”

Liz wasn’t sure what to make of Danny Foreman. She felt a wild pounding in her chest, like she’d run, or swum
underwater a great distance, and only now stopped for a breath.

“We faked a bloody crime scene,” Foreman said. “And called Lou out to it.”

“Had to be convincing. If it convinced Lou, and I think it did, then we’ve established a perimeter of protection.”

“And you’re telling me this because…” She fished for the logic behind it, then answered the question herself. “Because regardless of the destination account number I’m given, you want the money wired back to this government account you set up.”

“That’s it exactly.”

“Would you have let Darlene do something like this?”

“If it put you at risk I wouldn’t ask you to do this. You must know that, Liz.”

She snorted involuntarily. “I don’t believe that. I believe you’d do anything necessary to get at this money, whatever your motivation.”

She watched his nostrils flare, saw the effort involved in holding himself in check. He could ill afford to allow his emotions to show, to raise his voice with her. This reserve in him had the odd effect in her of reversing her own sense of helplessness. He
needed
her. They all
needed
her. She and her access to the AS/400s were the key to the investigation. Danny Foreman would have tried every way possible to circumvent her participation and thereby risk Lou’s involvement. This was a desperate man in the midst of a desperate act. Liz had seen this situation a hundred times as an executive and had taken advantage of her position more often than not. Only as Foreman contained himself, did she regain her strength.

“Hayes believed you could be trusted. Maybe he was wrong.”

“You can do better than that, Danny.”

“What are you willing to do about this, Liz? How much are you willing to risk?”

His question cut her to the quick. Scandal. Embarrassment. Her job. Her family. She found it her turn to cover what she felt inside, and quickly realized the game of give and take that was under way. A tingling sensation raced up the back of her neck as she realized the power she held over this man, and also what was at stake: the survival of her marriage and her family.

“I don’t know to whom you’re referring. David?”

“It doesn’t matter who we’re talking about,” Foreman said. “It’s what we call ‘the juice’ that counts. What it is they have. The tape.” She felt herself blush. Danny Foreman had certainly viewed the tape, as it had once been in his possession. He’d seen her naked. Doing things. Somehow she’d blocked out this truth, and the sudden realization shook her, even frightened her in a weird kind of way. He had “the juice” on her too. How was he looking at her now? Without her clothes? Engaged? She felt sick to her stomach.

“Thing is,” Foreman continued, “would Lou risk his career to save you? I think he would.” As he said this she saw through cracks in the veneer. Danny Foreman resented Lou, whether because Danny had lost his own wife to cancer, or because Lou had achieved that rare reputation in law enforcement of being one of the best and a decent man at the same time. Danny’s own career had suffered following Darlene’s death.

Liz said, “Lou would never bend the rules, even for me, and you know it. That’s what bothers you, isn’t it? You can’t get to him.”

“This isn’t about Lou. It’s about you. You can handle it. You can put these people away. Paul Geiser and I are your answer, your only way out of this. I promise you. Think through whatever it is that Lou’s telling you, and you’ll come back to this time and time again. David Hayes is working for us, and as long as he’s working for us, we control it. Not Lou, not even Hayes himself.”

“And so you fool Lou with the cabin torture to… What? Keep the straight arrow out of your game?”

“It’s all about leaks,” Foreman said. “It’s hard enough to contain something like this with three people.”

“Do you actually think I won’t tell Lou?”

“I think you’ll do what you have to. Lou is a cop, a good cop, Liz. You give him this kind of information, he’s going to run with it. Will he let you do this? Finish this? I doubt that. But if you do it without him—if you divert the funds into this government account, then it’s over. The player’s name is Yasmani Svengrad, Liz. A hard-core criminal who rolls over anyone and anything in his way. He’s a heartless son of a bitch. Just ask Beth LaRossa. You think you can work with him? What happens if you do? When you’re done getting him his money, do you think it will end then? You think that tape will get destroyed, that he’ll forget all about it? He’ll
own
you
and
Lou. He’ll know your weak spot because it worked once. Plus he’ll have evidence against you for helping him and he’ll
use
it against you to do another transfer, another wire, establish a fraudulent account. You roll a rock like that downhill and you will
never
stop it. But I can stop it for you. Me, Liz. Not Lou.”

“Do you think I can do anything without half of SPD knowing about it? How many layers did you have to pass
through to see me tonight? They’ve built a wall around me. I’m not doing anything, going anywhere, without Lou knowing it. And Lou won’t have it. Even if I
wanted
to, Danny.” She tried to make it sound as if she did want to, but this was far from the truth. Lou had something going. She knew him well enough to know this. “Damned if I do, damned if I don’t,” she muttered, more to herself than anything.

He checked that Palm Pilot in his lap, slipped a folded piece of paper out of his shirt pocket. His cell phone number, he explained. Hayes was putting this together as they spoke. If he or Hayes contacted her, the account number given would be the government account. If anyone else directed her what to do, she was to call Foreman immediately.

Danny’s offer sounded tempting despite everything Lou had warned her about. Hide the money from the thugs; put everyone in jail. Wasn’t that what Lou wanted?

“Remember to call me,” Foreman said and let himself out.

BOLDT PULLED INTO THE WEDGE
of white hash marks separating the northbound lane of I-5 from the NE 45th Street exit ramp leading into the U District, believing whoever was behind this was ingenious for his choice of locations. The highway traffic to his left moved at sixty miles an hour or better, the exit traffic to his right only slightly slower given that it was a multiple-lane ramp. The SPD car following him was forced to drive past, remaining on I-5. By the same token, whoever was behind this could also drive right past, Boldt never the wiser. He thought it more promising that his mystery man was parked with a good view of his position, monitoring him, interpreting the degree to which he was willing to cooperate. If this person wanted him off the highway, he could direct him to exit right. If he wanted him back on the highway, that was possible too. Boldt waited.

He answered his purring cell phone with a steady voice despite the way he felt inside. Pahwan Riz spoke his rank. “Lieutenant.”

“I’m assuming you lost visual,” Boldt said. “That’s okay, Reece.”

“Affirmative. Give us about three minutes, we’ll have someone break down in the opposite lane.”

“Too obvious.”

“Let me do my job.”

“My terms. That was the agreement.”

“Which is why I’m doing the service of calling you,” Riz explained. A commander, Riz was not used to taking orders.

“You’ll have to do better than a breakdown in the opposing lane, that’s all I’m saying. They’ll spot that in a heartbeat.” His own heart beat somewhat frantically. Boldt longed for a cup of tea. It never failed to settle his nerves.

“We’ve got you on radar,” Riz said, meaning the Global Positioning System. “We’ll stay with that for the moment, circle the wagons, and let you come to us.” Boldt found this acceptable. Riz would establish perimeter surveillance positions and wait for Boldt either to drive past one of his people or to provide the team the color of a car or a description of the individual who showed up to receive the encrypted computer disk.

Boldt’s cell phone beeped in his ear, indicating call waiting—an incoming call. He told Riz to sit tight and answered this second call, placing Riz on hold in the process. The synthesized voice named another location. “I-5 south. The Boeing Access Road exit. Pull into the wedge between the highway and the exit lane and await instructions. You have seven minutes.” The line went dead.