The Breakthrough (13 page)

Boone Drake knew he wouldn’t be able to handle all the questions and good wishes at the 11th, so he had Antoine Johnson meet him in a grocery store parking lot a few blocks from the stationhouse. The big detective ran through all his notes, most of it a repeat of what Boone had already heard, though Boone found it valuable to get firsthand the details of the Warren Waters interview.

“Guess I’m jaded,” Boone said, “but I don’t get how anybody can be so naive. I know he’s a good guy. I’ve heard him, met him. But does being nice mean you have to be stupid, too? Guy tells you he’s Haeley’s brother, and you send him right to Max and his babysitter?”

Boone went directly from meeting with Antoine to the crime lab, where Dr. Ragnar Waldemarr was the only one working on a Sunday morning.

“Good timing,” the director said. “One of my guys just called me from home. He broke the encryption code on the phone that transmitted the picture of Mrs. Quigley and your son to her phone.”

“That’s good news, right? You can trace the con man’s phone?”

“We ought to be able to detect it if it’s pinging off any of the towers in the Chicago area. So far it’s been quiet. Hold on a second.”

Waldemarr reported in to Jack Keller, then showed Boone the navy Buick and everything that had been removed from the glove box and trunk. “No surprises,” Waldemarr said. “All this stuff traces back to the real owner, Shane Loggyn.”

Boone nodded. “So it really was borrowed for this job, fake plates put on, then removed. And the car was abandoned.”

“Not really.”

“No?”

“It was clearly left for someone else to pick up, Boone. Keys were under the visor. We’d have done better to leave it there and see who came for it.”

“We’ve got a lead on him,” Boone said.

“I heard. But it would have been easier my way. Nobody ever listens to me. I’ve got more contacts and more ways to get things done than most people dream of.”

“I know, Doc. Jack’s told me about your military background and all your international contacts. You don’t always follow regulations, either.”

“I skirt protocol for the greater good? Guilty. But you know I couldn’t—or at least I wouldn’t—ever doctor evidence.”

“I do know that.”

“Boone, listen. You need anything for this case—and I mean anything—you come to me first. Got it?”

“White people for what?” Shane Loggyn said.

“I told you,” DeWayne said, “I don’t know and I don’t care. All I know is, the whiter the better.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means not just Caucasian. Light hair and pale skin.”

“What’s this for, the sex trade?”

“I told you, I don’t ask questions.”

“I don’t know if I could be involved in anything like that, DeWayne.”

“What if that wasn’t what it was?”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I don’t know what it is, ’cept I’ve never heard of anybody paying as much as they paid me just for one person to be in the sex trade.”

“You got experience in that?”

“Ha! No. I’m just sayin’ . . .”

“DeWayne, I’ve got to get to work. How’m I supposed to do that?”

“Call a cab and keep track of how much. I’ll add fifty to it besides the two hundred when I deliver your car. And you can still have the Sentra.”

“You know what?” Loggyn said. “I’m going to take you up on all of that, because you owe me.”

“Do it!”

“But only one thing is going to keep me from calling the cops about my Buick.”

“Name it. Last thing I need is heat.”

“You’ve got to meet me and tell me all about whatever it is you’re into.”

“The money sounds good, doesn’t it?”

“You know what I can make at Lucky Day, even on my best night. I’m not against a little extra—”

“A lot extra, Shane!”

“—as long as all I have to do is find people. I know plenty of white people.”

They agreed to meet in the cavernous parking garage at the casino at six fifteen that evening. “I’ll have my new car, man. And if the Buick isn’t ready yet, I’ll take you to my Nissan, and it’ll be all yours, no matter what happens after that.”

“DeWayne, listen. If anything’s happened to my Buick, you’re buying it.”

“Wow. How much would that be?”

“The Blue Book on it is probably under five grand, but you know I’ve kept that car in cherry condition. I wouldn’t take less than ten for it, and it should be more.”

“That’s a promise, Shane. If I don’t get the Buick back for you, I’ll give you ten grand.”

Jack whispered to Tidwell, “Give me Loggyn’s cell number.”

Lefty slid him a sheet of paper. Jack texted, “Ask him where he’s getting his new car.”

“I’ll tell you, DeWayne, truth is I’d rather have the car back than the money, know what I mean?”

“I just want to do the right thing.”

“Yeah, that’s you.”

“You got that right, Shane.” It was clear Mannock had missed the sarcasm.

“So, where you getting your Caddy?” Shane said.

“Manley.”

“Manley Motors? Seriously? That’s not far from me.”

“I know.”

When the call was over, Loggyn called Tidwell. “How’d I do?” came his voice over the speaker.

“You should get an Oscar, friend,” Lefty said. “Let me have you talk to Keller.”

“Yeah, you were great,” Jack said. “And we owe you a ride to work.” He turned to Tidwell. “We can work that out, can’t we?”

Lefty nodded.

Shane said, “As long as it’s not in the back of a marked car.”

Tidwell called the Hammond PD motor pool and asked for an unmarked squad to deliver Shane to the Lucky Day. Jack said, “Were we able to get enough on Mannock’s phone?”

One of the techies slid off his earphones, smiling. “If he’d stayed on any longer, we’d have been able to tell you what he had for breakfast.”

“Can we hear who he calls?”

The techie flipped another switch, and Jack heard ringing.

“This is Jammer.” The voice sounded older and exhausted. “Do you know what time it is here, DeWayne? What do you need?”

Mannock ran down the conversation he’d just had with Loggyn.

“I know him,” Jammer said. “He’s dealt to me at the casino. You borrowed his car for this?”

“Yeah, and I think Bertalay took it.”

“You’re dumb as dirt, Mannock. That would have been the last thing Johnnie would do. Why would he want to be cruising around in a boat like that, that ties him to the kid?”

While Mannock was saying, “All I know is it’s not where he left it, and he’s not answering his phone,” Jack noticed Lefty Tidwell shoot a double take at one of the techies.

“Not a nice neighborhood, correct?” Jammer was saying. Tidwell was whispering urgently to the tech, then leaned over his shoulder and started tapping at his keyboard.

“True,” Mannock said.

“Somebody stole it, then, or the cops have it. That’s your mess. You clean it up. I don’t need to even be involved in that.”

“You got another number on Bertalay? I’ve called him half a dozen times and it goes straight to voice mail.”

“Well, didn’t he use the phone on the job, DeWayne? Didn’t you give him some picture of the mother?”

“That’s what he was going to use that for?”

“Duh! Now he’s probably already ditched the phone. You think this guy’s an amateur? He’s been around the block a time or two.”

“Then how’m I supposed to get hold of him? I gotta have that car.”

“C’mon, DeWayne, I told you. If he deep-sixes a phone, you know good and well he’s not riding around in a hot car. Somebody else jacked it. Let it go.”

“That’s easy for you to say. I got to get it back to this guy.”

Jammer sighed. “I’ll tell you one more time. That’s not my problem.”

“If you hear from him, could you at least have him call me?”

“I’ll tell him you’re looking for him, but I don’t tell him who to call. I’m not his secretary. Now you’re lying low, right? Not letting anybody know you don’t still need your job, not flashing your money around.”

“I quit my job,” Mannock said as Tidwell hit Print and sheets began spilling from the portable printer.

Jammer paused. “Why would you do that? It was the perfect cover.”

“I hated it, and they weren’t happy with me anyway.”

“Just don’t do anything to bring attention to yourself.”

“Oh, I won’t,” Mannock said. “Listen, you need other finders?”

“Always, but my assistant and I handpick ’em.”

“How about Loggyn?”

“What? Nah. He’s not cut out for this. Frankly, we look for people who really need it.”

“He’s interested.”

All Jack could hear was heavy breathing. Jammer sounded furious. “Could I have made it plainer, DeWayne, that you were to tell no one, absolutely no one, about this?”

“I didn’t tell him. I just hinted at it.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I thought you’d be happy if I got you another finder.”

“No, I don’t need your help with that part of it. Recruiting is all about getting a read on somebody. It took me six months to decide on you, and I should have taken longer, apparently. If I’d wanted Loggyn I would have started with him. He’s about the furthest thing I can think of from what we’re looking for.”

“But wouldn’t you want to talk to him if he really wants to get involved?”

“No! Do you hear me? No! He brings it up again, you tell him you were mistaken and there are no openings. Got it?”

“I think he’d be good.”

“Quit thinking. If his car turns up, get it back to him.”

“What if it doesn’t?”

“Do I really have to say it again, DeWayne? That’s on you.”

“Okay,” Mannock muttered. “I’m buying a new car today.”

“Good for you. I gotta go.”

“Big Caddy. The Escalade SUV.”

Jammer hyperventilated again. “That’s your idea of keeping a low profile? Where you gonna park it? It’s going to be more valuable than any house on your street.”

“I’ve been thinking about getting my own place.”

“You’re hopeless, DeWayne. You know all that money is coming right back to me if anything happens to this deal. I explained that. Where are you going to get it if you need it?”

“Ah, you’ll get it done.”

“Listen, DeWayne. You get another good lead for us, let me know. Otherwise don’t call me again.”

Tidwell had been reading the printout and now sat with the pages crunched in one palm.

Keller raised his eyebrows. “You look like that cat that—”

“He did say
Bertalay
, didn’t he, Jack?”

Keller fished out his notebook and thumbed through a few pages. “Yeah, John Bertalay. Didn’t I tell you that last night?”

“If you did, it flew right past me.” Both techies were engaged now, facing the two veteran detectives, earphones dangling. “We call John Bertalay ‘AKA,’” Tidwell said gravely, handing Jack a mug shot.

Jack pressed his lips together as he squinted at the pale young man with long dark hair, sharp features, and aquiline nose. “Also known as?”

“Exactly. He’s got a rap sheet as long as your arm—a half dozen semesters in Michigan City and he’s not even thirty yet.”

“Hold this up to the light, would you, Tid?” Jack shot a picture of the mug shot with his cell phone. “And you call him AKA because he uses aliases?”

“Bingo. And he thinks he’s cute. He uses anagrams for names.”

“Anagrams?”

“Yeah, you know. C’mon, Jack, you’re smarter’n I am. Words made of the same letters of other words. Like
Bertalay
. Think about it.”

“I’d love to, Tid, but this case is time sensitive. Spare me the puzzle.”

“
Betrayal.
He’s used that one before. If you arrested him this morning, he’d be somebody else.”

“What’s his real name?”

“Kenleigh,” Tidwell said. “First name Kevin.” He consulted the printout. “Middle name Samuel. His real friends call him Knives.”

“Knives?”

“Another anagram. Comes from his first name and middle initial.”

“So where did he get Alfonso?” Jack said. “Any clue there?”

One of the techies was scribbling. “That’s an easy one,” he said. “Son of Al. Who’s Al?”

Jack sat shaking his head. “Kenleigh does this just to rile you?”

“Yeah,” Tidwell said. “Like I said, thinks he’s cute. It’s been three, four years since we’ve nailed him on anything. Always just out of reach, you know?”

“We get anything on this Jammer’s phone?”

“Too sophisticated,” a techie said. “Untraceable so far, but it’s clear he was outside the country.”

“He knows Loggyn,” Jack said, pulling out his own phone. “I’m going to see if Shane can give me anything on him.”

As Loggyn’s phone was ringing, Jack articulated softly, “Alfonso Lamonica,” letting the sound play on his tongue. “Son of Al. What’s cute about that?”

And then it hit him. As soon as he got off with Loggyn he had to call Boone.

“I hope you’re calling to tell me my ride is here,” Loggyn said.

“Shouldn’t be long. Sure appreciate your help.”

“I’ll be glad when this is over. I’m not looking for more excitement.”

“What do you know about a guy named Jammer?”

“Not much. He’s a regular. Mannock knows him better.”

“What’s he look like?”

“Big. Heavy. Old. Keeps to himself mostly, but when he does talk seems to know a lot about a lot of stuff. One of those, you know?”