“A million in gold?” asked Mack.
“Forget about the gold, asshole, you’re not getting an ounce, not even a gram,” said Drago.
I’d told Mack on the phone that we were going in to get the money to pay the ransom, and didn’t get into the long, drawn-out story of how the money had transformed from paper to mineral. “Okay,” I said, “what about collusion, and aiding and abetting a known fugitive? I’ll be on that surveillance tape with you.”
“Not if you wear sunglasses and a baseball cap pulled down low. And if we get in and get out without causing a big scene, then no one on our side of the fence is even going to tumble to what happened and look closely at the tape.”
“You don’t think someone will recognize me on the video?” I asked.
Drago smirked. “I don’t think so. You guys all look-”
I spun and stuck my finger right in his face. “Don’t. Don’t you even think about saying it.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Marie used the cash I’d given her for a nice little Honda Civic, dark blue with a sunroof. She pulled up right in front of the motel room door, sideways, taking up three spots, not intending on staying long. Once any plan was decided and in place, she went after the elements, one at a time, with the determination of a bulldog to complete the task at hand.
She came in and saw John. She smiled and jumped in his arms. He hugged her. “Hey, kid, how’s it going?”
She took a step back to get a better look at him. “You look great. Wait just a minute. Your smile, the way you’re standing all comfortable in your skin-you have a girlfriend, don’t you?”
Both of our mouths dropped open. Mack looked to me. “You told her, didn’t you?”
“I haven’t had the time.”
“That’s kinda scary,” said Mack.
I nodded. “You’re tellin’ me. I have to live with her.” She laughed and gave me a playful sock.
“Who is she, and how long have you been going out?” asked Marie.
“About nine months or so now. Great gal.” I had never seen Mack smile so hugely.
“I should’ve seen it coming,” I said. “It’s Barbara Wicks.”
Marie laughed and hugged him again. “That’s great, you deserve a good woman.” Her expression turned solemn. “I’m glad you’re here to help, but I’m worried you’re going to get all caught up in this thing, especially if it goes bad.”
John turned sheepish. “Naw, not with Bruno runnin’ the op. And even if it does, I always wanted to see Costa Rica.”
Marie gave a weakly motivated smile and then turned serious as she went into a flurry, grabbing things and shoving them into a cheap, rolling travel bag. I caught a glimpse of tears filling her eyes, and it hurt in the pit of my stomach. I wanted to tear off Jonas Mabry’s head for putting us in this situation. All of us watched her, not knowing what to do. We were all men, and men couldn’t comprehend or say the right things in moments like these.
She sniffled, wiped at her eyes. “Come on, Eddie, you ready to go on a trip?” He nodded. She took him by the hand and, with her other, grasped the handle to the roller bag.
“Let me put that in the car,” said Mack. He grabbed the bag and went out.
Drago took the same cue and said, “I need to use the can.” He went in the bathroom and closed the door.
I took Marie in my arms, buried my face in her neck, and said, “You be careful now, you hear?”
“Me? Bruno, I’m scared to death for you and what you’re going to try and do.”
“There’s no trying about it, babe, I’m going to do it and be back home in twenty-four hours. You wait and see.” I was trying for cocksure gangster, but it came out shaky and weak.
“You be careful.”
“This is a piece of cake compared to those train heists I did for Jumbo.” I spoke before thinking. Bad move with a hot-blooded Puerto Rican woman.
She pulled away from me. “Yeah, and if you’d told me what you were doing at the time, I’d have kicked your ass then.”
I nodded to her and Eddie, who stood close, his hand still in hers.
“Sorry, Eddie, I promise to watch the language and to do better.”
When she looked back at me, I kissed her again, long and deep. She broke our clinch with a sob. She pulled away and fled through the door. I couldn’t watch her leave. The car started and pulled away from the motel.
Criminal Intelligence worked from a mobile trailer parked at the back of HQ, and I dropped Mack off at the gate. He walked the rest of the way in.
Drago and I waited in the maroon Crown Victoria on Third Street, just down from San Bernardino County Sheriff’s Department Headquarters, waiting for Mack to return. I sat behind the wheel, Drago in the backseat, taking up the entire backseat sitting crossways, his back to the door, his feet touching the other. The car listed to one side.
My foot tapped incessantly with nervous energy from being so close to a hive of law enforcement officers, all of whom would be eager to take me down. Ugly thoughts wouldn’t go away. The potential consequences for what we were about to do swirled in my head. This didn’t feel like any other plan from my past life, first as a cop on the Violent Crimes Team, and then as a criminal committing thefts and taking children from abusive, toxic homes as I prepared to flee the country. This caper created a stronger feeling of foreboding and, strange as it sounded, left a metallic taste in my mouth.
All of a sudden I figured out what was missing. How simple. I lacked self-confidence, the most important element in any successful plan. Apparently, what I really needed was a porch, a rocking chair, and an afghan to cover my legs. The thought made me smile. Robby Wicks used to say, “Stay on the porch if you can’t run with the big dogs.” I should be fine, because I had the biggest dog I could find sitting in the backseat. Only I didn’t have a choke chain to control him. Drago was truly the wild card in this operation.
“Hey, Dog,” said Drago, “turn the radio to 620 AM, they’re owned by the SS, and they’re covering the Toys for Tots Run live.”
I didn’t need the noise and aggravation but tuned in anyway. Knowing what your opponent was doing was always a good thing. The announcer said, “A group of two hundred and fifty Sons of Satan are revving up their bikes as the long procession starts out the gate of Glen Helen Regional Park en route to the Los Angeles Convention Center. These humanitarians on two wheels will collect and secure plenty of toys today to ensure a happy Christmas for thousands of kids.”
Down the street, Mack popped out of the gate at the back of the sheriff’s headquarters and loped toward us. His running could draw undue attention. I looked around to see if anyone saw him. He made it to the car, came to the driver’s door, and opened it. He waited for me to move over. I did and he got in. “Okay, we’re live. Everything’s set.”
“Any activity at the clubhouse?” I asked.
“Nothing. Two hours ago at six thirty, the president, Clay Warfield, and the sergeant at arms, Sandman Colson, mounted up with a hundred and twelve other assholes and took off on their Harleys.”
“The Sandman’s out of prison?” asked Drago.
For the first time since I’d met Karl Drago, I detected a hint of fear in his tone. Faint, but there.
Mack looked in the rearview at Drago. “Yeah, why?”
“That guy’s a stone-cold angel of death. He’ll kill ya, cut your liver out, and grill it on the barbeque while he swills a beer. He’ll do it like it was an everyday thing, casual like.”
“You talk as if you’ve seen him do it,” Mack said.
Drago shuddered. “Ruined me on beef liver, and I used to love liver with onions. My moms really knew how to cook it.” We both stared at him.
“Then I guess it’s a good thing old Sandman’s out shagging toys for the tots,” I said. Drago glared at me.