The Pawnbroker (24 page)

Five minutes later, Jake came into the office. “That bag mine?” He pointed toward the unopened bag on the counter beside the computer printer.

“Go for it,” Gordon said, his mouth half full.

Jake opened the bag and looked inside. “So they had chicken burritos? Great. How much do I owe you?” he said, looking from Charlie to Gordon.

“This one's on me. You've been pulling more than your weight around here, bro.” Charlie said. “And it looks like Al did a great job. We'll have to thank Rick.”

“There's the damages,” Jake said, pointing to an invoice in a basket on Gordon's side of the desk. “And he included some extra instructions. You guys will want to read them.”

Charlie looked over and saw photos of the three small devices hooked up next to the light fixtures, one of them just above his desk. He nodded. “We've got to pass his name along to our customers.”

“He's got some good ideas on…,” Jake began, then stopped as they heard the sound of someone coming in the main entrance.

They all looked at the monitor. It was the two boys who'd been playing the video game earlier.

“Guess they rounded up enough money. Gotta go and make sixty bucks for Three Balls,” Jake said with a smile, picking up his bag. “I'll eat out there and keep the shop covered.”

“Thanks,” Gordon said.

Charlie nodded, taking a bite of burrito. His phone rang and he picked it up. “Personal call, excuse me,” he said, hurrying toward the back door. Gordon nodded.

By the fourth ring Charlie was outside and he took the call.

“You the guy looking for an address?” said the unfamiliar voice.

“Yes?”

“Room 705, the Richards Apartments, north of Lomas.” The line went dead.

Charlie wrote the information down on his pocket notebook, next to the phone numbers Ruby had provided, then went back inside.

He held up the notebook as he came back into the office. “Beth wants me to help her brother move out of her grandfather's home. I told her to come up with a date and time, then call back.” He showed Gordon the address the ZanoPak caller had given him.

“I can help.”

“Good, I volunteered you,” Charlie said, rolling his eyes.

“Let's finish dinner, then go see our sick friend first,” Charlie said, shaking his head. “Jake can close up.”

Gordon nodded, pointing to the notebook. “I'm with you.”

Quietly confirming that they had their weapons ready, with spare magazines in their pockets, Charlie and Gordon went out into the display area. “We're going to visit our friend in the hospital, Jake. Great job today. See you in the morning.”

*   *   *

They took Charlie's rental car, so he was driving as they passed by the large apartment complex. The site took up the entire city block, comprising nine separate four-story apartment buildings and several smaller offices and clubhouses.

“I don't remember ever coming by here,” Charlie said. “For Albuquerque, this is pretty big.”

“Yeah, I was wondering about a seventh-floor apartment anyway. From what I can see, we need to find building seven,” Gordon said, looking at the units as they drove east up Lomas Avenue. “There's building 700.” He pointed to a brick-facade building on the corner of the third row back. “Wanna circle the block, or come in from this direction?”

“If he's watching, he'll see us a lot sooner on the other side. Let's park down the street, cross Lomas, and come in past the other two rows,” Charlie said.

“How about from the east? From the windows and balconies I think there are six apartments running lengthwise, so if he's in number five, he'll be on the ground floor facing south. No east-facing window,” Gordon said.

“Good thinking. And we'll come in from the north lobby.”

This was the Southwest, where few apartment buildings had security gates or systems where a tenant had to buzz someone in. Charlie thought they could probably get to Eddie's door without being noticed.

Charlie carried a six-pack of Coors beer and Gordon had a paper grocery bag from a local Smith's. It contained chips and beer nuts to put any casual observers at ease.

They entered the clean, well-maintained lobby of the building and came to the first of three hall junctions. Looking to the right, they saw a door with the number three on it. To the left was four.

They walked close to the wall now, side by side, and as they passed the first door, the apartment five door suddenly opened. Both reached down for the pistols concealed beneath their jackets.

 

Chapter Seventeen

A stainless-steel cart full of cleaning supplies appeared, pushed out into the hall by a pleasant looking black-haired woman in blue scrubs.

“Mr. Patterson isn't at home,” the woman said. She looked to be around forty.

Charlie relaxed slightly, removing his hand from the butt of the pistol just inside his jacket. Just to be safe, he kept the interior of the apartment within his peripheral vision.

“Damn, we were hoping to get little poker game going. Where's he off to now, back to Pittsburgh?” Charlie said.

“He didn't say,” the woman said, smiling at Gordon and fiddling with her loosely fitting top. “You just move in?…”

“Doug. I'm Doug, and I'm sure thinking about it, Vivian,” he said, noting her name tag. “Are you available?”

“You mean as a housekeeper?” she said, smiling even wider.

“Of course,” Gordon said, his face turning a little red.

“Oh, you're blushing, Doug. That's so cute,” Vivian said. “I have a card here, call me. I can squeeze you in.” She reached into her pocket, brought out a billfold, and handed him a business card. “Make sure you ask for me, Doug.”

“Count on it, Vivian.”

“Well, I've got work to do. Sorry Eddie—Mr. Patterson, wasn't here for your game.”

Vivian shut the door to apartment five, checked the knob to see that it was locked, then smiled again and pushed the cleaning cart toward apartment six.

“Let's go, Pete, maybe we can get a game going over at Ollie's,” Gordon said, motioning in the direction they'd come.

“Yeah, Doug, yeah.”

Once outside, they cut across the center of the complex, heading directly for the car.

“What is it with you and women?” Charlie said, wishing he could open one of those lukewarm beers right now. “You're like a puppy. They all want to hug you and take you home. And how do you manage that embarrassed look? I've seen you play that a hundred times.”

“I know you won't believe this, but every time, I've actually been embarrassed. I've always had a problem coping with a woman coming on to me.”

“That hasn't stopped you from climbing into the sack with them nine times out of ten.”

“Hey, sure I get embarrassed, but it's not like we're in high school anymore. Now I know what to do and I don't back down. But what about you? I don't recall ever seeing you turning red.”

“Harder to spot on a Navajo,” Charlie said as they reached the crosswalk at the end of the block. The light was red, and traffic was always heavy on this street.

“Ah, but you do get stupid. Nancy said your jaw dropped and you almost drooled when you first met Ruth.”

“You ever see a woman and wish you were her type?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Well, Ruth is one of them. But enough of that, let's cross the street and wait a little while.”

“We're going back and breaking in, right?”

“How well you know me, bro.”

*   *   *

Charlie was fast with locks and had the door open in twenty seconds. They stepped inside an immaculately clean, furnished apartment that still smelled faintly of lemon.

Gordon closed the door behind them, locked the knob and fastened the chain. They were used to these kind of entries and searches, though in 'stan they were more concerned about booby traps. Still, they remained as quiet as possible while they put on latex gloves. Here, unlike in their military missions, they had to worry about fingerprints, not staying alive.

Charlie went straight to a writing desk, noting the empty space where a laptop had probably sat. A small inkjet printer was beside the empty space, but there was no USB cable, which suggested a wireless connection. He opened the top drawer. Inside was a nail clipper, a manual on CD for the missing laptop, a few pens, and a pocket spiral notebook, unused.

There were two larger drawers, the top one locked, but this was a snap to open with his pocketknife. Inside was an almost-full opened package of photo-quality printer paper. Below it was an accordion-type folder and a half-full package of inkjet printer paper.

Carefully removing the folder, Charlie unfastened the string and brought out a combination of e-mail printouts and printer images.

He wasn't surprised to find printed-out images, taken with a telephoto lens, of himself, Gordon, and Nancy. There were also photos of their residences, and Three Balls, out front and down the alley, including his Charger.

Searching further, he saw two images of Ruth, obviously from several years ago. In one, she was holding a baby. Rene, probably. He noted that there were none of the apartment building where she'd been living most recently. Either Eddie hadn't found the place, or else had chosen not to print a copy.

Then he found a page containing images of Diego Baza, some of them in the doorway or the alley of Three Balls. There were also photos of the pawnshop interior, two of them focused on the light fixtures.

By the time he got to the e-mails, Charlie noticed Gordon had come up beside him. Gordon pointed toward the bedroom and kitchen area, shook his head, then stood beside him as Charlie skimmed the e-mail printouts.

Then he got to the meat of the matter. The next e-mail Charlie found listed the sender as L898BZm and was being sent to DNTCare. The subject was “HER.”

Gordo read it in a whisper. “‘
Eddy—check into this guy, Baza. He contacted me via my corporate address. I deleted the message, but here's a copy. Make sure nobody sees it but you.—L.'”

“I was right. Baza approached Brooks. He's responsible for our Eddie being here,” Charlie said.

Gordon continued reading.
“‘Mr. Brooks. I know where your wife and son are. If you'd like to buy this information from me, please respond to this e-mail. I'm assuming you mean them no harm, or I wouldn't have sent this message.—DB.'
I'm guessing Ruth doesn't know this,” Gordon added.

“No. She was played in the beginning, but it looks like Baza had a change of heart. Check this one out.” He pointed to an e-mail dated a month later, which Baza had sent to “Eddie.”

In the message Baza explained that he was playing Mrs. B, trying to find out where the “stolen documents” are. Once he did that, he'd turn them over for the final payout.

“Here's the last one.
‘Baza is still stalling
.' That's just two days before he was killed,” Charlie said.

Gordon nodded. “What's with the photos?”

Charlie slid them over. “There's a few more here,” he said, looking at the remaining three. “Here's one of Gina getting into her car outside her office.”

“Nothing on Baza's last apartment?”

“No, but here's something that confirms what we already knew.” Charlie held up a specs sheet and installation instructions for hooking up electronic bugs.

“We still might be able to use that to our advantage,” Gordon reminded him.

“If we'd have set up Gina and Baza's meet in our back alley she'd be at work right now, not in the hospital. None of those youngsters would be dead. At least part of this is our fault,” Charlie said.

“Screw guilt and move on, bro. Gina was shot, and the gangs have already sold their souls to the highest bidder. Eddie was playing those boys and Baza, all the time trying to find Ruth. Let's work for payback—balance—as the Navajos say,” Gordon replied. “How about we take photos of all this shit, put it back like it was, then get out of here? We don't know where Eddie is, and when or if he's coming back.”

Five minutes later, they were clear of the building and walking across the complex grounds toward the rental car. Charlie's phone started to vibrate. He looked at the display. “Nancy,” he told Gordon, putting the call on speaker.

“Still nothing from the kidnappers. We've relocated to a safe house,” Nancy said. “Some off-duty volunteers on the force are cruising various neighborhoods, hoping to pick up the WiFi signal from Rene's game, but that's a real longshot. What's new with you?”

“We found Eddie's apartment, but no Eddie. He's going under the name of Eddie Patterson here. We've got images of some damning evidence that cinches who he's working for, and why. I'll send it to your phone, but don't let Ruth see it, okay?”

“Why not?”

“Baza hasn't always been her protector. He was the one who let Brooks know she was here. Then, later, he tried to undo the damage. You'll see.”

“No shit?” A few seconds went by. “That sucks,” Nancy added. “Just send me what you got, okay?”

“Okay. Can you be the one who tells her?” Charlie added.

“I knew that was coming. Yeah, but let me pick the time. Right now she's got enough on her plate.”

“Yeah, she does. Thanks.”

Nancy lowered her voice to a whisper. “You know we can't use any of this in court. I can't tell DuPree either. You guys just did a B and E.”

“No trace, no fingerprints. We wiped the doorknob clean just in case. If this gets the kid back, it's worth it.”

“Agreed. I can send Eddie's address to DuPree, though. You got your information through an unidentified informant. There may be enough there to get a warrant. And if the detective gets this damning evidence legally…”

“Exactly. Though if I was giving advice, I'd suggest that DuPree have the place staked out. Eddie took his laptop with him and is keeping a low profile somewhere, but who knows, he may be coming back, if only to pick up those papers. They link him to Brooks, Baza,
and
Ruth. And there's more. According to Ruby Colón, Eddie had a bounty out on Ruth. Anyone who could find her got a new car.”