Silent Joe (38 page)

Alex Blazak called at 9:37. "Take the package to the Newport Pavilion Drive the Mustang. There's a pay phone north of the entrance. Occupy at ten-ten sharp. If I like what I see, we'll talk again."

"I'm bringing two women from Child Protective Services. It's the only way they'll intake Savannah tonight."

"You can bring the Pope if you want. You won't see me." He hung up. I realized that Alex Blazak was a fool, and that he was in way over his head.

I dialed the dedicated line for the War Room and got Marchant. I him what had just happened.

"We're rolling by helo. Collier and Redd will be near that phone booth before ten. Over and out."

I made it to the phone booth at 10:05. Taken. A husky young man in white shorts and a red muscle T-shirt was talking loudly. I set the duffel bag the ground, tapped on his shoulder and badged him. He frowned and his hand over the phone. I explained what I needed. He raised the phone back to his mouth and kept talking to me.

"All yours, Joe," he said. "I'm Larson. Collier and Redd are sitting the window of that bar, watching. I'll be around."

He nodded, nodded again, then slammed the phone and walked off. It rang at 10:10.

"Where are your friends?"

"In the bar."

"The waterfront must be crawling with them."

"Two social workers. That was the deal."

"Get on the next ferry across to Balboa Island. Stand at the starboard. When you get off, wait at the phone booth on the right. Go now. It's
leaving."

I hung up, waved to Collier and Redd and made for the landing. The last of three cars was being waved into place. The bow attendants were chocking the tires on the front car. I stepped on with the bag over my shoulder. Collier and Redd followed me onboard. Collier had on jeans and an old cardigan, carried a big purse. Redd wore a long dowdy skirt and shapeless sweater and tennis shoes; her hair was pulled back into a bun. I could see the amplifier in her ear and the tiny speaker angled up her chin. Marchant's dedicated line, I thought: Redd is calling in our plays. Pedestrians lined the sides of the ferry boat around us—tourists in bright colors, couples snuggled close against the cool night breeze, kids with skateboards and bikes.

I led the way through them, excusing myself as I worked to the front right corner of the vessel. I looked back on the Fun Zone Ferris wheel and the merry-go-round and set the duffel at my feet. Collier and Redd stood on either side of me.

The ferry engine groaned. I could feel the deep vibration in my legs as we moved away from the landing and made for open water. A ketch moved along under power toward the channel. A couple of teenagers in a rental skiff buzzed past in front of us, fishing rods wobbling in the lights of the Pavilion. Across the harbor I could see Balboa Island. A young attendant in khaki shorts and a floral print shirt took my dollar for the three of us and gave me back a quarter.

The ferry pilot pulled the boat to port, working against the current. I could see the other landing and it looked like we'd miss it on this course. The ketch disappeared into the darkness, its shield-shaped stern slowly vanishing. A Zodiac puttered alongside us, thirty yards out.

My cell phone rang.

"Get it ready."

I lifted the bag with one arm and balanced it on the railing. I sensed Collier and Redd steadying themselves while I looked out at the black water. The Zodiac fell back but moved in closer to the ferry.

"I'm behind you. I'm coming alongside and you're throwing it in. Don't move yet."

"Where is she?"

"You'll know when I get my money. If you or those cops with you want to take me out, just remember this: Savannah's got enough oxygen for about two hours. You kill me, you kill her. Absolutely a done deal. Get it ready, scarface. When I say drop it, drop it. Keep the phone up. Up!"

I looked at Redd and shook my head. "He's got her stashed without much air. Hold your fire."

The Zodiac came up swiftly then, outboard buzzing. I could see man in it, dark clothing, a baseball cap on backwards, half-turned to work the rudder. Ten yards. Twenty feet. Then he was just six feet off the side, inching along toward me. I muscled up the bag in one hand and waited the Zodiac to get under it. I couldn't see Alex Blazak very well, but first thing I thought of when his face came under the running lights was his father: compact, tense, explosive.

He smiled up at me. "Drop it!"

I dropped it. The duffel landed on the water with a smack. The Zodiac lurched forward and I saw Alex Blazak sweep a long gaff through one handle and bring it up close. He leaned over, dunked it twice, then hauled it in with two hands. Looking up at me, he nodded and smiled again.

The Zodiac turned like a spooked deer and glided into the darkness with a scream of engine and a cloud of exhaust.

I watched it blend into the night, heading down the channel toward harbor entrance.

The wake wobbled and widened on the bay. The engine whine grew fainter and the wake lines settled into the black water. I wondered if he got the electronic transmitters too wet to work, and if the IR emitters could survive that dunking.

I still had the phone to my ear.

"Trona, I'll call you again when I'm where I want to be. Call off dogs and Savannah will be okay. So long, dipshit."

I signaled Redd to cut out and speed-dialed Marchant on my second phone. I told him that Blazak had the money and was heading west in the harbor, toward the channel that led to the sea. "He's got Savannah without much air, sir. He's going to call us when he feels safe."

"Larson's still getting signal from the duffel. So far, so good. We've got three unmarked units heading down the peninsula now. Two more on Balboa Island. They're running parallel to the harbor. The Harbor Patrol is moving in. I'm calling in the helos, too. We're going to take him down. Hold for me, Joe."

I could hear him talking to someone else, but couldn't make out the words. Then he was back.

"Yeah, yeah, okay, Joe—Harbor Patrol's working the south half, between the ferry landings and the channel. No visual on the Zodiac yet. Take the next ferry back the way you came. Wait by your car, all three of you."

"Copy, sir. Take him alive. You've got to take him alive."

The helicopters roared in from the dark and I could see the searchlights of the Harbor Patrol boat to the south. My heart was beating fast and steady and every light on the water seemed to hold some promise before it broke up in the chop of the bay.

"You did your part, Joe," said Collier. She steadied my arm. "Now Alex has to do his."

We stood against my car. I felt foolish, doing nothing, standing there like a tourist.

Five minutes. Ten.

Marchant called at 11:05. "Joe, go ahead and proceed south on the peninsula, down Balboa Boulevard. Harbor Patrol's got a visual now and the signal is loud and clear. Subject has pulled up at a private dock, looks like he's tied off on a pier at K Street. If something breaks, we might need you there."

"Don't kill him."

"We're staying cool. You stay cool. Over and out."

I drove slowly down the peninsula, past the big homes and the bungalows and the palms and the bougainvillea. The traffic was thick. We passed K Street and I tried to see everything without looking eager. I leaned my head back a little, like Will used to do, with my eyelids relaxed while eyes did their work.

Three NBPD cruisers were parked to our left. Two sheriff's department radio cars lurked on L Street. I made out three more unmarked sheriff cars and two that were probably Marchant's.

I could see both helicopters hovering out over the water, their search lights crossing in the sky. Tourists started pulling over to watch.

The boulevard ended down by the channel, so I looped around and started back. One of the unmarked cars was parked near the jetty. Another one passed us going back toward K Street.

I wondered. Twenty minutes and still on the water?

Past K Street again. Nothing. I called Marchant.

"Is he still docked?"

"Harbor Patrol's making the approach right now. Joe, get your workers and get over to the beach there at K Street. Stay on the line. Over.''

"We're there."

I shot down K Street and parked right in front of the sand.

"Sir, what about Blazak?"

"No visual on Blazak yet."

"He ditched the boat and the duffel," I said. "I'd bet on it, sir."

"Joe, hold for me."

I could hear him talking on another line. Then he was back.

"Joe, I'm on with the patrol skipper. They've closed but they can’t see Blazak. They've got the night-vision stuff and the visibility is pretty good. They can see the Zodiac. They can even see what might be a duffel bag thrown across one of the benches. But no Blazak. Joe, SWAT's still minutes out, so I'm sending you three in for a look at that boat. Let Redd lead it. She's experienced. Watch it. Over and out."

Collier took one side of the little street and Redd and I the other. When we came to the last house before the water, Redd went first. I fell in and then Collier. It was my first real patrol action, and I was proud and calm. It was like my night business with Will, but better, somehow. Redd had drawn her sidearm and was carrying it close, against her leg. I did the same.

The Harbor Patrol boat stood offshore thirty yards, but the big searchlights threw their bright clean beams onto the K Street dock. I could just make out the outlines of the prow and the deputies. The choppers roared lower and the water pocked and rippled and sprayed.

Ahead of me, Redd stepped onto the brightly lit dock. I followed. Her hair blew loose in the wind from the rotors and she glanced back at me.

Then she crouched into a ready stance, her sidearm out and aimed at the Zodiac. I did, too. She crab-walked closer and so did I.

She said something and lowered her gun, but I couldn't hear what with the helicopters so close.

When I caught up with her I looked down at the wilted duffel bag tossed on the bow bench.

Collier's footsteps thumped behind me.

"You called it," she said.

"He's good at this," I said.

Then the boom of an amplified voice coming from the patrol vessel.

SONOFABITCH GONE?

"Sonofabitch is way gone," called Redd. "Sonofa
bitch."

I holstered my weapon and said a secret prayer of thanks that he was way gone. It meant he could lead us to his sister, if he could find it in his heart to let his biggest profit-maker finally go free.

"We're alive," I said. "She's alive."

Redd turned to me. "Don't count on it, Joe.

"My cell phone rang. Redd turned and tried to wave off the helos as I punched the answer button and brought the phone to my ear.

W
here is she?"

Alex Blazak laughed. It sounded to me like he was in a vehicle. The reception was full of static and background noise.

"You didn't really think I'd hurt her, did you?"

"You never know what crazy people will do."

"That's me. Certifiable. She's waiting for you at the Bay Breeze Motel. If you're still on K Street, fucking around with my boat, the motel's two miles away. Room fourteen, Trona. Hey, nice doing business with you. Chrissa says you're a real cool guy."

He gave me the motel address and hung up. I told Redd, and she told Marchant, and we rolled.

Five minutes later we approached the Bay Breeze Motel. It was beach side of Coast Highway. Two sheriff's cruisers were already in the motel lot. Two NBPD radio cars were double parked along could see two helos descending from opposite ends of the sky.

"I'll go first, Joe. If I need help with the door, you're the man.

We'll get the uniforms to cover the rear and sides."

Room fourteen was up a flight of cement stairs, then left. I could see that a light was on. Collier and I took one side of the door and Redd other. She knocked twice.

"Yes?"

"Savannah Blazak?"

"Yes."

"I'm Sergeant Cheryl Redd, Orange County Sheriff's. Are you alone?"

"Yes."

"Open the door, please."

I heard the lock being turned, then the chain sliding back. The door swung inward and Savannah Blazak stood in the weak light. Her hair was cropped short. Jeans and a halter top. Barefoot. She looked pale and dirty.

"Hello, Joe. Hello, Deputies. I'm all right. And I'm very sorry for all the trouble I've caused you."

"You're going to be okay," I said. "It's good to see you again."

"Is Alex all right?"

"So far as we know."

"It was my fault. It was all my fault."

"Let's get you out of here. We can talk later."

"I will not go home. I will not."