“So she picked up a car here?”
“That’s right, her instructions were to leave her car and call you. One of these mobsters was waiting here with a stolen Hummer that she then drove to Las Vegas. His was the voice you heard. She was used, extorted, if you will. It’s gone on for years, and the Bureau has essentially participated in it. There’s an around-theclock suicide watch on Anna. She needs your help.”
“I would like to talk to her again. Tell her that.”
He watched Batson drive off. Then he drove to meet Crey to talk about the Raburn killings, how it might be a business opportunity for them. They spoke out in the bait shop lot. He told Crey he’d been the one to find them, because somehow it was going to come out and he didn’t want Crey to discover it later.
“They took me in and questioned me all day and almost all night, really tried to mess with my head. The wife ran the caviar making out of that shed. You knew Cindy, right?”
“Yeah,” Crey said. “Nice little ass on her.”
“She did some work for me through Abe, and I don’t know how they found out about it, but they were trying to tell me I offed the family.” Marquez held his hand out, fingers spread, his big scarred hand riding a few inches above the bar. “They wanted to test my hands for residue, you know, wanted me to volunteer to let them. I did the lie detector test, residue test, all that shit, but I passed everything.”
“What were you doing out there?”
“Trying to find Abe. He owed me a hundred bucks.”
That made Crey laugh. Raburn dying and getting away without paying just fit perfectly.
“That’s just perfect,” Crey said.
“I collected.”
“What? You got in his wallet when he was lying there?”
“No, man, but I went down to that canning room for a reason. I stepped over them and grabbed a stack of labels and jars before calling 911 to report they got smoked. I’ll show you what I got. It’s the official stamp, the whole thing. There’s more stashed out there. I couldn’t hide it all in my truck.”
They moved the conversation from the parking lot to a bar now, walked up Main Street, and the bartender brought a gin and tonic for Crey. He brought a beer for Marquez.
“I’ve got to make some calls but it’s possible we can get something going tonight.
“Want to play a little poker tonight? There’s some guys that might show up who I’ve done business with before. They’re interested in talking about doing more together. I figure it’s a good time to introduce you.”
“How do we know they’ll show up, because if it’s just poker, I already went to high school.”
“I’m going to make some calls, then I’ll call you later. These guys could be good for like a hundred grand a year.”
Marquez nodded, didn’t believe any of it, though he’d call and talk it over with the SOU. It sounded like more Crey bullshit until the last line.
“There’s a guy in San Francisco with a store,” Crey said. “He’s got another one in LA and one in Seattle, and he sells all kinds of caviar over the Net, only not on English websites. These guys supply him. Goes from the water through us to them to this dude in San Francisco. We’re not going to get the business right away, not with Raburn getting offed, but after things cool down. Tonight is the night to meet these guys. I’m going to make the call, then call you.” He grinned. “How’s poker sound now?”
Marquez smiled back at him. He killed the draft beer and stood up.
“Okay, call me.”
48
The poker game was at a house a few miles outside Rio Vista. A long flat driveway led to a detached garage. Little light seeped from under the garage door and the window on the side, and it didn’t feel right as he walked down the driveway with Crey. Crey turned to reassure him.
“This guy’s wife bitches at him all the time. Wait until you see what he’s got set up in here.”
“Where’s the wife tonight?”
“Fuck, who knows, just be glad she’s not here.”
Marquez glanced at the house. No lights. An SUV was backed up against the garage door, and he listened for voices and didn’t hear any as he followed Crey over stone steps alongside the garage. There was a door, and Crey waited for him to go in first. As he stepped inside, Marquez felt a gun press into his back.
“We’re going to keep this fair,” Crey said from behind him and then stripped Marquez’s Glock. “Pretty interesting piece you got here.”
“I took it off a cop. What’s the deal? Why are you doing this?”
“Sure, you took this gun off a cop. What cop was that?”
Perry aimed a shotgun at Marquez’s gut. Torp was the only other person in the room.
“We’ve got a little plan,” Crey said. “We’re going to take a ride together.”
“No poker?”
It was the best answer he could come up with, but what he felt was fear. Perry and Torp were very quiet, anticipating, and Crey was methodical.
“Take your shoes off,” which was not something he wanted to do since his left shoe had a telelocator in it, a device that would let his team track him. He untied his shoes and was slow getting out of them.
“Where are we going?”
“Where we can settle this.”
“That could affect our partnership.”
“Yeah, it’s going to fuck with it, but I don’t know how many more partners I need anyway.”
“Since you’ve already got Ludovna.”
“See, there you go. That’s probably why I don’t like you, and shit, these two hate you. Lou here can’t wait. Put your hands behind your back.”
And he moved his hands slowly, had no doubt Perry would pull the trigger. Torp moved in and brought a blade to Marquez’s throat as Crey clicked on plastic handcuffs.
“Just like they used to do to me, man.”
The blade cut the skin under his chin. He could turn his head fast, kick out at Crey, and hope Torp didn’t run the knife into him and Perry blow him away. Or gamble the SOU was able to follow wherever Crey took him. A kind of calculation flowed through his head and went nowhere. His mouth was dry, heart pounding, and he resisted the order to get down on his knees. When he did, the knife drew real blood, left a sharp stinging burn along his throat, and he felt blood trickle toward his collar. He got on his knees, and Crey’s boot pushed his shoulders down, his face onto the cold concrete.
“If you kick me, I’m going to stick a knife up your ass,” Crey said. “I’m going to hook up your ankles, and then you’re going to fucking hop to the truck.”
“Where are we going?”
He hopped to the SUV, and they loaded him into the rear and covered him with a blanket. Now he had to count on the SOU, but it was Katherine and Maria he thought about as they drove. He heard the tires hum over the metal plates on the Rio Vista Bridge. He felt the curves of the levee road and wondered if he could talk his way out. They left the paved road and were still running hard, rocks pinging off the underbody and Crey giving directions, a left turn, a right turn, another mile straight ahead, then slowing to a stop. The back opened. The blanket got jerked free, a slide racked on a gun, and Crey leaned over him.
“Don’t move,” Crey said. “Lou, slide the lock down alongside his ankle and then lock the chain and the cuff together and give me the key.”
Cold metal slid along his ankle between the skin and the cuff. He heard the rattle of a light chain and a lock snap into place.
“Getting you ready, my man,” Crey said. “Then we’re going to undo the cuffs on your legs and settle this man-to-man.”
Now he got jerked out the back of the truck, heard Torp and Perry laughing as he bounced off the bumper and landed hard on his side. He checked the horizon for headlights and saw nothing but darkness. The ankle cuff was still on his left leg. A chain was attached to the ankle cuff and he saw the chain snaked around to the front of the truck. Lying on his side he followed the chain to where it hooked to a tow ring. Crey put a boot on him, leaned over, and cut his shirt off.