“Right.”
He hung up, reached under the dash, and switched on the lights and siren. He moved over into the emergency lane and passed cars, the T-Bird doing 100 with little room between the K-rail.
Age had mellowed and smoothed off my rough edges. This reckless maneuver scared the hell out of me. I couldn’t read the file anymore. I pushed my imaginary brake into the floor and held on to the door and dash. Over the loud din, I asked, “What’s changed? What’s happened?”
Mack kept both hands on the wheel, his eyes straight ahead, “The FBI just walked into the incident command center and took over, relieved Wicks of command and control.”
“Why is that so bad? They have the resources and the manpower to put the boots on the ground, which is what this investigation needs.”
“The Feebies have been playing hide-and-seek with their information.”
“Nothing new with that. What do they have? Why are we hauling ass?”
“They’ve got an eye on Jonas Mabry. They’re following him right now.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I raised my voice over the siren, “You know, if the FBI grabs Jonas and he doesn’t tell them where the kids are, they don’t have the ability to compel him to talk, not with a triple kidnap charge hanging over his head. He’s got nothing to lose.”
Mack leaned forward a little, his eyes intent on the task at hand. “Yeah, yeah, I know. What do you want me to do about it?”
“I’m just thinking out loud.”
“All they can offer Jonas is a lighter sentence on the three counts of kidnapping, but if we never find the kids, we don’t have the kidnapping to offer the lower sentences on. He keeps his mouth shut, he walks.”
“And unless Jonas has someone helping him, the kids will wither and die wherever they are. Mack, those kids are all alone with no one-”
“I know, I know. You got any ideas?”
“I do.”
“What? Spill it, because I got nothing.” The freeway opened up for several miles ahead, and he pulled into the number one lane closest to the center divider. I breathed a little easier. He shut down the siren and kept the red light to the front, kept the speed at 100.
“There’s really only one option,” I said.
He took his eyes off the road for a long, dangerous second and looked at me. He jerked his head back and shook it from side to side. “You’re crazier than a shithouse mouse, you know that?”
“There’s no other option.”
His Adam’s apple rose up and fell as he swallowed hard. “Okay, I’m with you, but we leave Wicks out of it. We do this, just you and me.”
“I agree.”
We rode in silence. “Couple of BMFs doing what’s right?” he asked.
I understood what he said, a way of justifying our actions, ones that ventured far beyond where the Violent Crimes Team used to work in the gray area. We intended going deep into the black, the dark on the other side of the law, and, if caught, neither of us would see daylight the rest of our days. We used to have a saying for when crooks took this path: running head-on into “the other side of forever.”
Mack said, “First, we’ll need to stop at the Valley Suites and pick up a couple FBI radios.”
I nodded as my mind tried to ferret out an option where I didn’t have to involve Mack. I needed a diversion, a good one. I couldn’t wait for an opportunity to pop up. I had to create my own.
“Talk to me, Bruno, what are you thinking? I know what you’re thinking-you’re thinking of leaving me holding my dick in my hand and doing this thing on your own.”
When you worked the same job using the same tactics for so long, reading a partner’s mind came natural. “Tell me about Karl Drago,” I said.
Up ahead in the fast lane, we quickly approached a slower-moving black BMW. Mack changed lanes without signaling, passed the BMW, and changed back to the fast lane. Mack asked, “What? Who?”
“Karl Drago, the guy-”
“I know Karl Drago. He’s the guy we were set up on when the kidnappings went down and I got pulled off. He’s got nothing to do with this.”
I needed Mack thinking in a different direction, a diversion, however minor. And maybe one we could rally into a larger one later on. I said, “The FBI’s going to be spread thin working a mobile surveillance on Jonas, hunting for that third kid, and trying to keep an eye on Karl Drago. They’ll put every available agent out in the field.”
“I agree,” he said, “but how does that help us?”
“We might be able to use Karl Drago as a diversion, to pull away manpower.”
Mack slowly nodded as he wrapped his mind around a tactic with little validity. “All right, but I don’t know how we’d use him.”
“I don’t either, until I have more information.”
“Drago did two tours in the California prison system for murder. Did twenty-five to life on both. This was before ‘three strikes’ came in. He did twelve-and-a-half years, got out on parole, killed again, and got another twenty-five to life. Did another twelve and a half years, and just now got out again. The second victim killed wasn’t a taxpayer. The only reason we’re on him twenty-four seven is because if he kills a third time, it’s going to make a lot of people look like buffoons.”
“Why are the Feds involved if this is a straight murder and nothing else? The state has jurisdiction.”
Mack smiled, still watching the road. “Twenty-five years ago, before every business on the street put in surveillance cameras, Drago and his crew pulled an armored car heist where Drago walked up behind an armored car guard named Willy Frakes, who was unloading plastic-wrapped blocks of currency. Right out in the open, in front of a bank, stuck a gun to his head, killed him, and took the money. No witnesses. You believe it? No one saw him do it. You can’t get luckier than that.
“Someone called in an anonymous tip and the cops picked up Drago. The prosecution didn’t have any witnesses and only a little circumstantial evidence. Drago only had a public defender, who talked him into taking a lesser charge on a plea for killing the guard. When he got out twelve years later, the speculation is that he killed the guy who ratted him out on the guard killing, a guy named Stanley Grandville, who was also thought to be in on the heist, but never proven. Grandville being in on the heist was just a working theory for motivation in the murder. Drago killed him for being a rat and went in again for another twelve.”
I finished it for him. “The money was federally insured, which brings in the Feds.”
“Exactly. We follow him long enough, he’ll take us to the rest of his crew and violate his parole before he kills someone else.”
My phone rang. Marie. I’d forgotten to call Marie. “Hello, babe.” I missed her something fierce.
“Bruno, are you okay? You didn’t call when you were supposed to.”
“Everything’s good. How are the kids? How’s Dad?”
“Kids are great. They miss Wally, of course. I miss Wally.”
“And Dad?”
She paused, time hanging in a large fat bubble. “He’s…” Her voice cracked a little. “He’s got stomach cancer.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Mom came down with cancer while I attended elementary school. Marie had warned me before I left she thought Dad might be sick. I’d hung too much hope on the might part. The memory of Mom forever remained an open emotional sore. And now Dad.
In the front seat of the speeding car, thousands of miles away, I was unable to help him, to console him, tell him I was there for him. All of a sudden, I found it difficult to breathe. I needed to get back as soon as possible.
“I’m sorry, Bruno. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“They’re starting his treatment tomorrow, a consultation with the surgeon. Surgery and then chemo. As a last resort, radiation.”
I closed my eyes tight and whispered, “How bad?”