By this time, Barbara had sat down on the bed next to me, Mack on the other side, like a couple of bookends, me in my BVDs.
Silence ruled the moment. Barbara finally said, “It’s not about the money, not entirely.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“The FBI has your picture,” she said. “They got it from the parking lot videocam at the mall. They got you holding a gun on Mabry and forcing him into the trunk. They now think you’re the main player. That you, not Mabry, took the kids. And that Mabry is your shill to take the heat.”
I stood and half-stumbled across to the bathroom, using the doorframe for support. I’d been set up-hard and deep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Jonas had organized and planned his crimes with me as the epicenter. He’d somehow stayed several steps ahead of us. No matter what we tried, he had been able to predict our every move. Jonas came out of the penal system as a graduate with honors. No one I had ever chased had this intricate form of advanced planning. Up in the mountains he kept using “we.” Someone else had to be helping him.
Jonas had used my background against me. I was wanted for rescuing abused children from toxic homes and taking them to a safe haven down in Costa Rica. Now he’d made it appear as if I’d come back for more kids. He set the trap so the entire kidnap scenario fell back onto me. If successful, he could take the money, walk away, and leave me holding the bag of crimes against these children.
I had to get the children away from him. The big question: If the option arose, if I could get the children back unharmed, would I, in exchange for their freedom, go to prison? A large hole opened in my gut, cold and empty. I thought I would go to prison if it came right down to that horrible choice.
Barbara brought me out of my funk. “No way will they give him the money. If they can set up that scenario, the FBI might front a fake bag of money to take him down. But no way will they let a million walk. No way.”
Of course she was right. At least two of the kids were foster children recently adopted to middle-class parents without the means to raise tens of thousands, let alone a million.
“Jonas knows we can’t raise the money,” I said. “That’s why he said he wanted me to rob a bank. He’s either toying with me, or he wants to force me to commit felonies in the hopes I’ll get caught. But one thing is for sure, violent crimes are a component of his plan before he ends this.”
“He wants you to fail so you’ll go to prison,” Mack said. “That’s what this game is all about. He wants you in the joint forever.”
I nodded.
The way Jonas had set up the kidnapping and exchange left only one option for me. I needed the money to show to him. Then I’d force him to show me the kids before I handed over the money.
He wanted a million dollars in twenty-four hours. Where could I lay my hands on that kind of money in twenty-four hours? Money taken in a bank robbery averaged fifteen to twenty thousand from the tellers’ windows. Twenty thousand at a whack would take fifty banks. To get the big money all at once, you had to hit the vaults. To take down a vault, you needed a lot of advanced planning and a team. I had neither.
“You’re not going to do anything stupid to get the money,” Mack said. “You’re not going to play his game. Hello?” Mack got up, walked over and snapped his fingers in front of my face. “Earth to Bruno, earth to Bruno, are you in there? We’ll give him a fake drop, a fake bag of money, and follow him. It’s the only choice we have.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I think John’s right,” said Barbara. “You’re going to have to stay put for now. You can’t risk getting picked up. When you talked to him, did you at least get the name of the third child?”
“Eddie Crane. Jonas told me Eddie Crane, from Bell Gardens.”
Barbara took out her cell, speed-dialed, and waited. She said, “This is Chief Wicks, let me talk to the ASAC.”
We waited a few seconds, then she said into the phone, “Hi, Dan, the child’s name is Eddie Crane. Start off checking Bell Gardens. No, I can’t tell you where I got the information. I’m on my way to the ICC right now. Yes, all right. Thanks.”
“What’s the plan?” asked Mack.
Barbara looked at me. “How are you to contact Chicken Hawk when you have the money?” She’d taken to using the name designation assigned to Mabry by the FBI. I resisted the urge to look over at the drop phone Jonas handed me before we parted ways, the phone that now sat on the nightstand next to the one I’d purchased.
I lied. “He told me a pay phone to stand next to, tomorrow night at nine.”
“Are there still pay phones out there?” asked Mack.
Barbara set up her cell to type in the information. “Okay, give me the location and number if you have it.”
I recited the only pay phone number I could remember. “It’s on Atlantic Avenue in Compton.” I didn’t know if the phone was still there. A twinge of guilt rose up to ruin my day just that much more. I hated lying to friends. But I needed time to think, to make a plan. And to sleep. If I could only get a little sleep, I knew I could figure this thing out. Jonas had left little time to do either. I’m sure he’d factored my fatigue into this part of his plan.
I flopped down on the bed and closed my eyes. The answer hovered overhead, just out of reach. I could feel it. Gauzy fatigue masked visibility and any attempt to clear the air.
“Bruno, what’s the address where you dropped him?” asked Barbara. “I want you and Mack to go there and try to pick up his trail.”
“First you want me to stay here out of sight, now you want me to go? It’s on Kadota, off Mission. On Kadota, five houses south of Mission, on the right. There’s a chain-link fence with an old Mercury Marquis sitting in the front yard. No numbers on the house. I’m staying here. I have to close my eyes for a few minutes or my mind’s going to melt down.”
I looked at Barbara, her expression stunned, as I described the house.
“That’s Montclair, that’s back in my city.”
A new chief of police, and the kidnapping again pointed back to her jurisdiction. Not good.
Mack grabbed my foot and shook. “Come on, old man, there’s plenty of time to rest when you’re dead.” Another maxim left over from Robby. Like a bad omen, Robby’s ghost tainted this entire caper.
“Jonas is going to be long gone from the Kadota address, and he won’t have left the smallest crumb to follow,” I said. “Haven’t you two been listening? He’s planned this whole thing out to a gnat’s ass. He’s had two years to do it. Your time would be better served figuring out why the two years.”
“All right, but I’m still going,” said Mack. “You get some sleep. I’ll be back.”
I again closed my eyes and waved my hand in the air. Wet smacking filled the silence as Mack and Barbara kissed and whispered. Seconds later, the door opened and closed as they left.
I rolled over and tried to sleep. No good.
I picked up the phone and dialed Tara, the name for our house in Costa Rica. Dad had named our rental home Tara after the plantation in Gone with the Wind. He thought the house and grounds were huge, the largest he’d ever seen. Of course, not as large as a plantation, but a huge house on a landscaped acre could fool an old man from South Central Los Angeles.
The call to Costa Rica went through surprisingly easy. Technology. The phone on the other end rang.
Someone picked up and said, “Hello?”
“Dad, where’s Marie?” I checked my watch and computed the time difference. Marie should have been home for two hours.
“You okay, son? Everything all right?”
“Yeah, sure is. I won’t be much longer. I’ve got everything in hand here, don’t you worry about me. Where’s Marie?”