The Pawnbroker (25 page)

“What a bastard,” Nancy replied, her voice cold. “I can't wait until we lift prints and DNA from his apartment. Who the hell is this guy?”

“We thought about bringing something back with his prints on it, but didn't want to tip our hand in case he missed whatever it was,” Charlie replied.

“We couldn't have used it in court, not without a warrant, but I still wish we knew his real name. Good work anyway,” she added. “You should consider joining the force. Where you going now?”

“I was thinking about visiting Gina. How's she doing?”

“Healing up, weak but getting stronger. She wants to come home.”

“May not be the safest place for her right now. How's hospital security?”

“I thought about that—Eddie trying to get to Ruth via me, via Gina. There's a guard by her door now, and he's been given Eddie's photo.”

“Good. Maybe I should just wait until visiting hours. I think we'll stop by the shop and check on Jake. He looks like he can take care of himself, but he's alone there now.”

“I didn't say this, but maybe he should be strapped for a few days.”

“Copy that. I'll send you those images in a minute. Stay in touch, and stay safe.”

“You too—and Gordon.”

Charlie ended the call as they came to the corner of the sidewalk, forced to wait for the light to cross Lomas. He handed Gordon the car key. “You drive, I need to send the stuff to Nancy.”

*   *   *

Charlie spent the fifteen-minute travel time rereading and studying the images of the documents he'd photographed. He found himself staring at Ruth and the baby, then enlarged the image, checking out the background.

“If this is Brooks's home, it's a palace. Big lawn and grounds, garden, and a house that must have cost five million dollars easy.”

Gordon took advantage of a stoplight to glance over at the enlarged image Charlie held up. “Reminds me of those big houses along Rio Grande Boulevard.”

“Yeah. The guy is worth hundreds of millions.”

“But not worth shit as a human being. When I was watching over her the other night—Rene was asleep—she told me Lawrence had come from a lower middle-class family. He'd gone to college on a scholarship and loans, toughing it out and even living in his car one summer. He was a whiz in business school and had made his first million in the stock market before he graduated. His roommate's father was a Wall Street trader, and apparently Lawrence got a bunch of insider tips.”

“No moral compass. A gambler, eager to take short cuts, going for the big score?” Charlie said, remembering his father, the judge, who was always hard on defendants who'd abused their business position and cheated the little people. That was one of the few things where they'd always seen eye to eye.

“Yeah. But once he'd hit it big, he had to live large as well. Always the best of everything. Even when they traveled on vacation, early in the marriage, he rented the biggest place he could find. According to Ruth, no four-star hotel was good enough,” Gordon said.

“So, if he came here, where would Lawrence Brooks stay?” Charlie wondered. “He's very private and likes his space. Big rooms, lots of space.”

“He'd probably rent or lease the biggest house available—with an enormous yard, in a nice neighborhood. Like off Rio Grande?”

“Could be. Most of the big houses up in the Heights have much less property around them. It's worth a shot. Let me make a call to Claudia Espinosa,” Charlie said, looking up the number of the Realtor who helped them buy the pawnshop.

“Nancy's right, you know. When all this is over, we've got to change our business name,” Gordon said, grinning. “Maybe Claudia can make some suggestions.”

“Yeah.” Charlie brought out his phone. “Meanwhile, I'm hoping she can tell us if a place big enough for Brooks has been rented or leased recently.”

“That still won't tell us if Lawrence Brooks is actually there. He'd have Eddie or someone else do it for him, using a corporate name for a rent or lease agreement,” Gordo said. “What they call a shell company?”

“Maybe. But if Brooks's personality is anything like Ruth describes, once Eddie provided him the leverage, he'd probably want to be in on the score. Get his hands on her.” Charlie felt a twinge of anger at the thought.

“What we can do is check any likely estates for that WiFi signal,” he continued. “There can't be that many big homes—estates—available for rent or for sale. This is New Mexico, not California. Still, it's a longshot.”

Gordon nodded. “God's ears. Make the call. Worse-case scenario, we can go house to house in those 'hoods and maybe trigger a reaction.”

Charlie called, got Claudia's voice mail, and left a message. “Wait and see, I guess,” he said, noting that they were within a few blocks of the shop. “Hey, four cars out front. Looks like business is picking up. Jake has been drawing them in.”

His phone rang. “Speak of the devil,” Charlie said. “Hey, Jake, need some help?”

“Probably, but that's not why I called. You need to get over here and check out an e-mail that came in through the business Web site,” Jack said, his voice low.

“We'll be right there, coming in the back,” Charlie said, ending the call.

“I know that look,” Gordon said. “Something just hit the fan.”

“Yeah. Looks like the kidnappers decided to use the Internet instead of a telephone. Disconnect the bug once we get in there, will you?” Charlie added.

Jake nodded to them when they came in the back, but shook his head when Gordon asked if he needed some help. A half-dozen customers were in the shop, but only two were at the counter where he was serving them.

Gordon jumped up onto the desk and disconnected the bug from its power supply, then climbed down and dropped it into a drawer. Charlie, in the meantime, took a seat, then clicked the mouse to open the mail folder.

On screen was an e-mail sent to the contact feature on their business Web site. The first thing Rick the computer guy had done was create a Three Balls Web site. The only problem they'd had so far was showing up on porn Web site searches.

Gordon came around to read over his shoulder. The e-mail, which listed a likely untraceable ISP address, had the subject line “Ruth—deal.”

“Crap, this is them, all right. ‘
If Ruth wants to trade, she'll have the original merchandise ready at eight
PM
tonight. We'll call the store number with the delivery details. Ruth can bring one friend to the exchange. This is a one-time offer.'
That's pretty clear,” Gordon said.

Charlie was already calling Nancy. “I don't see how we can get this set up to cover the transfer. They'll probably give the location at the last minute.”

“It's what I'd do,” Gordon replied. “I'm betting it'll be in the middle of nowhere, in the wide open, maybe.”

Charlie held up his hand. “Nancy, I've got some news. We need a plan in a hurry. Is DuPree handy? Okay, put him on the speaker. I'll do the same with Gordo.”

*   *   *

Ruth insisted on listening in, and after a few moments of arguing back and forth, they came up with a plan they could all live with. If Rene was there at the transfer, they'd make the deal. First of all, however, they'd chose a place to meet, then they'd go together to pick up the stuff she'd hidden. Ruth needed to remain protected.

*   *   *

“Déjà vu all over again, huh?” Gordo said, watching from his pickup in the parking lot as Ruth and Nancy walked into the credit union.

“At least Ruth, unlike Gina, is with an armed cop. Hopefully, nobody inside will notice Nancy's carrying,” Charlie said. “That tends to attract attention in a bank,”

“Ruth played it smart, using a safe-deposit box. Better than an old ammo box buried in the desert,” Gordo replied.

Charlie glanced at his partner.

“How big a box?”

“Don't ask.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Gordon said, a hint of a smile on his face.

Charlie shook his head and looked in the side mirror again.

He had barely taken his eyes off the street and the drivers in passing cars since they'd pulled up. DuPree, with another plainclothes officer, was parked beside the curb fifty feet away, just in case.

As he watched, though, Charlie's mind wandered back to Gina, still in the hospital, and under twenty-four-hour guard. They'd spoken briefly over the phone, and her voice was finally sounding stronger.

Maybe, by this time tomorrow, some of the debt he'd incurred putting her in harm's way would be repaid. The guilt, though, would remain. All he could hope for now was that the balance in her life would be restored, and that she'd be safe and happy for a while.

At least he'd never feel guilty killing his enemies; he knew that it had been necessary. There were others though, some who may not have been his enemies. How many ultimately innocent people had he brought before those who would do anything to extract information—useful or not? It was better not knowing; there was no way he could make up for that, except, maybe, by helping the innocent now. Like Rene and his mother—and Gina.

“Thinking too much isn't good for you, bro,” Gordo whispered. “Concentrate on the here and now.”

“Sorry, my mind was wandering.” Charlie sat up in his seat just a little and took another look at the bank entrance. “Here they come.”

Nancy and Ruth came out the door, both carrying big tote bags, but Charlie only noticed that out of the corner of his eye. Like feds guarding dignitaries, Charlie and Gordo kept eyes on passing strangers or nearby cars, doorways, or windows—not the people they were protecting.

DuPree pulled away from the curb, turned into the parking lot, and the women, who'd turned ninety degrees, climbed into the back seat of his cruiser.

Gordon pulled out first, leading the way. “Next stop, the police station,” he mumbled.

*   *   *

Five minutes before eight that evening, Charlie, Ruth, Gordon, and Nancy were in Nancy's car, parked in the McDonald's parking lot closest to the shop. They'd made copies of the papers and thumb drive carried out by Nancy—Ruth's tote was a decoy—and had been at the station for most of the afternoon. They'd forwarded calls coming to the shop phone to Nancy's primary cell phone so they wouldn't be tied to one location. Only recently had they driven back to the neighborhood near Three Balls.

Exactly at eight o'clock, Nancy's phone rang. She put it on speaker.

“Drive to the parking lot on the west side of Isotopes Park. You've got fifteen minutes. When you arrive, you'll get a second call. Don't be late,” the familiar voice instructed. “And tell Charlie and Gordon to stay out of this.”

“Wait. We're in North Valley. It'll take us twenty minutes or more to get to the sports stadium,” Nancy said.

“Hello?” she said. “He hung up. Was that Eddie?”

“Yeah,” Charlie replied.

“Crap, I was hoping for some time to get into position. Hang on, everyone.” She turned on her emergency lights and siren, then pulled out into the street and raced east toward I-25.

Detective DuPree, who was a block away in an unmarked car with another detective, got on the radio right away as he followed. “Where we going?”

Nancy explained the situation, and for a few moments their plan was adjusted to meet the not-entirely unexpected new situation. They already had a plan, and this didn't change it that much.

Suspecting that one of the kidnappers might be watching Cesar Chavez Avenue, which led east from the interstate directly to the baseball park, Nancy took the Gibson exit, farther south, then came north up University. To the east, on their right, was the football stadium, and west, directly across the street, The Pit—the Lobo basketball stadium. Nancy stopped for a second. Charlie and Gordon jumped out of the cruiser and ran west across two lanes of University to the sidewalk.

They entered The Pit's empty parking lot, the expanse interrupted only by curbs, light poles, and a line of small trees around the perimeter. Both men had powerful night-vision binoculars, courtesy of Detective DuPree. The cop had taken the Lead/Coal exit farther north, and was going to approach down University from that direction.

Gordon moved in a crouch toward the darkest spot he could find, away from the glow of streetlights and illuminated entrance to The Pit's eastern side. With no scheduled events tonight, the area was a vast wasteland. There was a string of hotels south of there, closer to the airport, but otherwise it was an old residential neighborhood of one-story houses. From here they could watch across Cesar Chavez to the north, where Nancy and Ruth were headed.

Charlie, ten feet away, stopped, down on one knee now. Ahead, Nancy and Ruth were idling at the stoplight at the intersection of University and Cesar Chavez. Here, they intended to go straight another hundred yards, then turn into the empty lot to their left, across the street from the baseball stadium. Isotopes Park was just north of the football stadium, at the northeast corner of the intersection of University and Cesar Chavez. There was a research center farther west, across University and opposite Isotopes Park, but it had its own lot, with just a few cars present this time of the evening. That's where Nancy was headed.

“Think they're really going to bring the kid here?” Gordon said in a low voice.

“Why not? There's just enough light here to keep anyone from sneaking up except at a crawl, and four escape routes, two leading to I-25 north or south.”

He surveyed the area on the west side of University, all the way around to The Pit. Gordon was responsible for watching to the northeast, toward the baseball park, and southeast, where the football stadium stood at their four o'clock. Whatever lay east of that structure was blocked by the tall bleachers and upper-level suites and press boxes on the west side of the stadium.