Thorpe laughed. “Am I a monkey or something?”
“Fuck you. I’m not used to this cloak and dagger shit.”
“Obviously.”
“You, on the other hand, seem to be right at home.”
“Undercover work…I’m used to it,” Thorpe explained.
“Yeah, right.”
The sergeants were shown to a table and both ordered coffee. Hull spoke first.
“So what the hell is going on?”
“I was kind of hoping you’d tell me.”
The two men stared at each other—each trying to force the other’s hand.
“Look, John, we can sit here all day, but the fact is, you need me a hell of a lot more than I need you.”
Good point.
“You’re right, Bob. But I don’t think you’d want to hear what I have to say, even if I did feel inclined to talk.”
“Let me ask you this—completely off the record by the way—you have my word.” Hull’s word meant something to Thorpe. Most men’s didn’t. “All this shit going on…does it have anything to do with your family’s murder?”
Thorpe sat in stunned silence for a full minute as he made up his mind whether or not to answer the question. Finally he lifted his head and met Hull’s eyes.
“It has everything to do with their murder.”
“I see. And how good is your information? In other words, is there a possibility you might be mistaken?”
“One-hundred percent positive.”
“Shit,” Hull mumbled.
“Yeah, shit.”
Thorpe looked across the table at his colleague and could see that the man struggled with a moral dilemma. He hadn’t wanted to involve Hull, but the detective had already reached certain conclusions. Plus, Bob wouldn’t tell Thorpe a thing if he smelled a line of crap.
After much mental wrangling, Hull let out a long breath. “What do you need from me, John?”
“For some reason, I’ve captured the attention of the feds. Why?”
“I don’t know…I don’t. We’re being kept in the dark as far as the FBI’s role in this investigation is concerned. We’re doing our own thing, and the FBI’s doing theirs. We share our information with them; they don’t share shit with us. They were granted access to all personnel files, including yours.”
“But you knew I was being looked at specifically. Otherwise we wouldn’t be meeting like this,” Thorpe pointed out.
“The only reason I know you’re a blip on their radar is because of Agent Collins. She requested to meet with me privately. She showed up with a stack of personnel files saying she wanted to get a feel for potential suspects. Most of the files she brought along belonged to officers with military or SWAT backgrounds. Your file was somewhere in the middle of the stack, and when we discussed it, Collins acted rather flippant. I got the impression it was just that—an act. She was trying to discover as much as she could about you without alerting me to the intensity of her interest in you. I think the other officers’ files were there as cover. Of course, I can’t really tell you anything that substantiates my suspicions.”
Thorpe smiled. “You don’t need to, Bob. You’re pretty sharp for a tailless monkey.”
“She’s sharp, too—Agent Collins.”
“Yeah, I’ve noticed.”
“Some information about you I had to pass along. They’d find it sooner or later. Some information I kept to myself, particularly about your father and your extracurricular activities inside the ring. But if I found it, they’ll find it.”
“I appreciate that, Bob. If you don’t mind me asking, what did you learn about my father?”
“Not much. He was probably Army Special Forces before he went to work for a private security company. I figure the work he did for this ‘company’ was related to his Army skills. I also figure he passed some of those skills on to his son.”
“You’ve done a lot of figuring. To tell you the truth, I’m not sure what my father did for a living. I know he wanted to keep me apart from it, but his idea of recreational activities did make for an interesting childhood.”
“I bet.”
“I think you started figuring I might have been involved in this mess before the feds even showed up. You want to tell me how?”
Hull shook his head. “I got a lot of stuff that doesn’t add up to shit. Just had a feeling…like when you had a feeling some crankster was lying in wait with a shotgun.”
Thorpe considered the statement. “People ought to trust their instincts more. I’d best get going; I’m supposed to hook up with Doctor Collins in twenty minutes. Don’t want her to think I’m up to no good.”
Thorpe took out a piece of paper, wrote down three names, and passed the note to Hull. “Those assholes are also involved. I’ve placed a document and corroborating evidence in a safety deposit box at the MidFirst Bank at 91st Street and Yale. If something happens to me before they answer for what they did, make sure you retrieve and use it. By the way, I didn’t have anything to do with Cole Daniels’ death; I think they killed him trying to tie up loose ends.”
Thorpe rose, plopped down a couple of bucks for his untouched coffee, and made his way toward the back door.
“Hey, John...”
“Yeah?”
Still seated, Hull stared into his cup. He raised his head and peered into Thorpe’s eyes.
“I’d have done the same thing.”
Thorpe nodded, turned, and walked out into the bright February afternoon. He had a Marine Force-Recon/TPD sniper trying to kill him and an FBI criminal profiler trying to arrest him. The chances of Thorpe avoiding death or prison were almost zero.
Sunday
February 11
Morning
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, THORPE ENTERED his office to find Agent Collins waiting on his couch. She was dressed casually in a pair of jeans and a dark, snug sweater.
“Blue jeans? You feel bad about outclassing me in the sushi joint?”
“Don’t need a suit for that,” Collins said with a wry smile.
“Ouch. FBI one…PD zero. What’s on the agenda tonight, more of the same?”
“Pretty much.”
“Ready to get going?”
Collins remained on the couch. “Let’s discuss some of your troops first. Give me your impression of them.”
“I can do that in the car.”
“Please.” Collins gestured for Thorpe to have a seat behind his desk.
She was stalling, probably giving one of her colleagues time to hardwire a tracking device to the Mustang. Thorpe sat and defended each and every one of his troops for the next twenty minutes. When the charade ended, Collins announced she was ready to leave. To Thorpe’s surprise, he successfully talked her into taking one of SID’s extra cars. She must have anticipated his request. He wondered if all the division’s surplus units were now outfitted with GPS.
Thorpe retrieved a couple of bags from the Mustang and tossed them into the small backseat of the green Jeep Wrangler. Adding to his suspicion, he noticed Collins had a bag already packed. They both climbed into the four-wheel drive vehicle and discussed which addresses they’d survey during the next twelve hours.
Every officer assigned a protective detail had been granted time off with pay. That meant Phipps had the freedom of choosing a place and time to target Thorpe. Meanwhile, Thorpe remained tethered to a federal agent. In addition to avoiding death, he’d have to deal with the mental probing of the good doctor. He felt the beginning of a headache, a condition he rarely experienced unless administered by someone’s fist. Accumulated stress had exacted a toll on his body and mind. He’d spent half of last night wrestling with the rigid corpse of the late Mr. Shaw while wondering if the FBI were going to pounce at any minute.