He considered the best hiding place. His gaze settled on a small tool cabinet with see-through plastic drawers. The bottom drawer was nearly empty. It would serve. He began placing the items inside, one at a time, pushing them toward the back to make them less visible. The plant shouldn't be too obvious, or Brand might
"Police, put your hands up!"
The shout came from outside the carport. Squatting by the tool cabinet, Wolper turned as a flashlight snapped on, shining in his face.
"Hey, it's okay, I'm a cop, I'm a cop." He raised his hands, aware of the white latex gloves, shiny in the light, screaming of guilt.
"Put your hands up," the voice repeated. A young voice, tense and strained.
"They're up." Wolper kept his own voice cool. "I'm Lieutenant Wolper, Newton Area. Do I know you?"
The flashlight bobbed closer. Behind the beam a pale young face came into view. The cop's nameplate read BAKER.
"No, sir, you don't. You know him, Metz?"
His partner, Metz, took a moment to respond. "There's a Wolper at Newton station."
"He's me," Wolper said, rising slowly to his feet, careful to make no threatening moves. Both of the Hollywood cops had their guns drawn. "Or I'm him. However you say it."
"You got your ID on you?"
"Vest pocket."
"Take it out, real easy."
Wolper produced his ID case and flipped it open.
"Okay, Lieutenant." Baker nodded, but he hadn't lowered his weapon. "May I ask what exactly you're doing here?"
It was the obvious question, and Wolper was ready for it.
"I found Sergeant Brand's gate ajar. Came in to see if anything was wrong. Found the bottom drawer of this tool cabinet hanging open. I thought there might have been a four-five-nine. Pulled on some gloves so I wouldn't contaminate the scene. I found some materials that amp; well, they require an explanation."
He expected to be asked what he had found. But Baker surprised him. "Why did you come here in the first place?"
"Social call."
"At nearly eleven p.m.?"
"I'm a night owl." The guns still hadn't lowered, and Wolper began to be concerned. "Can I ask why you're here? Somebody call in a hot prowl?"
"No, sir. We were dispatched to Sergeant Brand's residence after his vehicle was involved in a crash."
This didn't make sensea routine car crash wouldn't necessitate a visit to the victim's residence by a patrol unitbut Wolper didn't pursue it. There was another question of greater interest.
"A crash?" He gave a good imitation of concern. "How bad?"
"There was one fatality."
"Is it Brand?" Wolper asked, hoping the answer was yes.
"That hasn't been confirmed."
"Jesus." Wolper lowered his head for a moment. When he looked up, the guns were still fixed on him. "You know, you can holster your weapons, Officers. We're on the same team."
The cop named Metz spoke. "What were you doing by that tool chest?"
"I told you, I was looking for signs of a burglary. What I found was something else."
The bait had been offered a second time. Still they didn't take it.
"So you were looking in the drawer?" Metz asked.
"Right."
"That's funny, sir," Baker said. "See, we saw you from the driveway. We watched you for a minute or two before we called out. And it looked to us like you were putting stuff in the drawer."
"Did it?"
"Yes, sir. It did."
Wolper thought about how to play this. He decided to call on a little cop solidarity.
"All right, guys, let me level with you. I found some incriminating items in the drawer. I took them out to look them over, but I wasn't sure I wanted to be the one who found them. I'm not sure it's the kind of stuff that ought to be found. So I opted to put it back and walk away. I don't want to blow the whistle on a brother officer."
Now they would have to ask him to detail what he'd found.
They didn't. "What's the envelope for?" Metz asked.
He had seen the empty manila envelope, which Wolper had left on the floor.
"The items were in there," Wolper said. Instantly he regretted it.
"If you were putting them back the way you found them," Baker said, "why didn't you put them back in the envelope?"
"And if the items were incriminating," Metz added, "why would you conceal them?"
Cop solidarity wasn't going to work. These two wouldn't play ball.
There was another option. The throwdown gun was snugged behind his jacket.
It would be tricky. He would need to wait for the two men to lower their guard. They were both wearing vests. He would need to snap off two head shots fast enough to drop them before they could return fire. The shots would be heard throughout the neighborhood. He would have to run for it. A lot could go wrong in that scenario. Still, it might be his only chance.
He had to distract them. "I think we're losing sight of the big picture," he said. "I admit I wasn't exercising good judgment. The stuff I found amp; well, it rattled me. I've known Al Brand a long time. I never expected him to be involved in anything like this."
Come on, you bastards. Take the fucking bait.
"What is it you say you found, exactly?" Baker asked.
Finally.
"Look for yourselves," Wolper said. "I've gotta say it doesn't look good."
He stepped away from the tool cabinet, inviting the two Hollywood cops to check it out.
Hesitantly they advanced. The bottom drawer was still open. Baker shone his flashlight inside, lighting up the stacks of cash and the narcotics. "Holy shit, look what we've got here."
Wolper eased his right hand behind his back and grasped the gun. Two shots in quick successionthat was all he would have time for. Kill shots, both of them. Anything less than perfect shooting, and he was dead.
He waited for Metz to glance down at the open drawer amp;
Headlights.
A car pulling into the driveway. Light bar on the roof twinkling. Another patrol unit. Two more uniforms.
He could never outgun four officers. Slowly Wolper let go of the gun, leaving it tucked in his waistband.
Baker and Metz were looking at him. "Your back bothering you, Lieutenant?" Metz asked.
"Muscle spasm. I get it sometimes."
The two guns were trained on him again. "I think we'd better pat you down, sir."
For a crazy moment Wolper thought about running. But there was nowhere to run. The two new arrivals were already getting out of their vehicle.
"I showed you my badge," he said. "I outrank the two of you, in case you hadn't noticed."
"Yes, sir, we're aware of that."
"Then let's not have any more bullshit about patting me down like I'm a goddamned criminal."
He turned, intending to walk out of the carport and get to his car and go. Go where? He had no idea. Just go.
Metz laid a hand on his shoulder. "Against the wall, sir."
Wolper wanted to resist, wanted to brazen it out, but already Baker and Metz were escorting him to the side wall of the carport, where he assumed the position like all of the thousand perps he'd busted. Baker found his off-duty weapon, holstered by his side, and Metz's probing hands discovered the throwdown.
"What's this, sir?"
The other two cops had reached the carport and were watching him without expression.
"Backup gun," Wolper said.
"No serial number," Metz reported. "This firearm is illegal."