The Bricklayer (17 page)

“Would it be better if there was no report?”

Vail watched her hook her arm through his as they started out of the garage. “That wouldn’t cause you any problems?”

Vail turned his attention back to the air tank. They had found no fingerprints, no hairs, fibers, or blood anywhere in the trunk. But a traceable serial number? Even if the deadly
device had been ignited, the digits engraved in the metal plate would likely have survived. Were they trying to distract the Bureau again by pointing them in a new direction, one that could also be deadly? Even if they were, it didn’t matter; he and Kate had no choice but to follow it.

Kate came back and Vail looked at her, amused. “What?” she said. “He’s a nice guy.”

Vail smiled. “And very
Maltese Falcon
.”

“Is that bad?”

“Let’s see, at the end of the movie, the woman is arrested for killing one of the detectives. That gives me a fifty-fifty chance. I guess you can’t ask for better odds than that these days.” Vail wrote down the manufacturer and serial number off the tank and handed the slip of paper to her. “Please call your friend in Minneapolis.”

“Okay, ahhh…”

“What?”

“Do you think it’s time to go to Kaulcrick and tell him what we’ve got? Get some manpower to start looking for Radek?”

“Again—our best shot at solving this case right now is if we have two investigations going at the same time: one in the direction Radek wants, and one in a direction that he doesn’t know about.”

“How sure are you about all this?” Kate asked.

“How sure do you need me to be?”

“To keep my sanity? Absolutely positive.”

“Then Agent Bannon, you are in serious trouble.”

“APPARENTLY YOU HAVEN’T HEARD,
Don, but J. Edgar Hoover is dead. The FBI no longer calls the shots. Your agency is under the auspices of the Department of Justice, not the other way around.”

Del Underwood was the United States attorney in Los Angeles. He was in his midforties and was athletically trim, a noticeable anomaly among the notoriously sedentary population of lawyers. He also wore large wire-rimmed glasses that were popular in the seventies as though trying to recapture some past image of himself. He adjusted them as he leaned forward, placing his elbows on his desk to send the message that he was ready for the fight that was apparently brewing across the assistant director’s face.

“This is not about who’s in charge,” Kaulcrick said. “This is a national case that has literally taken the FBI from the Atlantic Ocean to the Pacific. We’ve had two agents murdered, and we’re about to arrest another for being one of the people responsible. We have a great deal more invested in this than the United States attorney’s office does. And the director thinks if Pendaran’s arrest was released as national news in Washington, it would have much less of an impact on the Bureau’s image.”

“If you’re so worried about your image, maybe you should have fired someone like Pendaran when you had the choice.”

“What really worries me is when political appointees start examining everyone else’s ethics.”

“What does that mean?” Underwood said, his voice rising.

“It means that you’re the United States attorney simply because your party is in the White House. If that changes in
the next election, you’ll be gone to some fat-salary law firm, and we’ll still be here dealing with your self-serving decisions.”

“Why, because we won’t let you hog the credit?”

“We solved the case.”

“And we have to take this into a courtroom and prosecute it, your mistakes and all.”

“Who do you think is closer to the attorney general, you or the director of the FBI?”

“The local United States attorney always makes the press releases concerning arrests in his or her jurisdiction. Let’s call the AG and let him decide.”

“Fine. While you’re calling him, I’ll call the director.”

Out of deference to the two men’s positions, Mark Hildebrand had not said anything, but now he decided it was time to interject himself. In a calm tone, he said, “If I may. Calling bosses will give them the wrong impression about your ability to handle your duties. A compromise will serve everyone much better. I can see both sides of this because I work for Don, but I work more regularly with you, Del. So how about this? We’ll have the news conference here in Del’s office. He can make the opening statement, a kind of ‘The Los Angeles United States attorney today announced the arrest of…’ Then Don, representing himself as someone out of Washington, can give all the details and make it more of a national release like they would have in Washington, telling how the entire FBI, coast to coast, has worked to uncover one of its own gone bad. That way it’s both local for the United States attorney’s office here and national for the FBI.”

Kaulcrick looked at the SAC, somewhat surprised at his diplomatic skills. Then he glanced at the United States attorney to see if he would agree. Underwood crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned back in assumed contemplation. Finally the assistant director said, “I guess I can live with that.”

Underwood pondered it a few more seconds for effect and then said, “So can I. Exactly how much of the evidence are you going to reveal?”

“I know you’ve got to prosecute this, Del, so I don’t see a need to reveal any specifics.”

“I’ve gone over it with the lead prosecutor. He said while the gun barrel and birth certificate being traced back to Pendaran are great pieces of circumstantial evidence, he’ll need more to ensure a murder conviction.”

“We also found fifteen thousand dollars in his apartment. The serial numbers matched those from the three-million-dollar demand.”

“The prosecutor is aware of that. It’s still not the complete smoking gun he’d like. What’s the read on Pendaran? Think he’d make a deal to avoid the death penalty?”

“We’ve tried that. At first he was denying everything, even offered to take a polygraph. But when we started threatening him with the death penalty, the only word out of his mouth was ‘lawyer.’”

“Are you doing anything to find the money? It would certainly tie everything together. Then we wouldn’t need to bargain with him.”

“That’s
all
we’re doing. Mark’s got every available agent working on it, trying to trace Pendaran’s entire life. As soon
as we know anything, you will, because we will still need search warrants.”

“Fair enough.”

Standing up to leave, Kaulcrick said, “I’ll see you this afternoon at the news conference.”

T
HE ASAC IN MINNEAPOLIS CALLED KATE BACK IN LESS THAN AN
in the jury-rigged flamethrower had a former agent as its head of security, and he was able to access their computer records from home, since it was after five o’clock. She wrote down the information and thanked the ASAC. “The tank was sold to Outside Zsport Company, 2121 South Alameda in L.A. I’ll call and make sure they’re still open.” After a short conversation, she hung up. “They close at ten p.m.”

“It’s not far.”

“Did you wonder about how they were financing all this? I mean the apartment, the house on Spring Street, everything?”

“I was until you said they never recovered the money from Radek’s armored-car robberies.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” she said. “The total haul was almost a million and a half.”

“Apparently, even criminals have figured out that it takes money to make money.”

The traffic was light and it took only twenty minutes to get to the sports store. “I’ll go find out where we’re going next.”

She watched him walk inside and felt a rush of anticipation. To distract herself she started scanning through the FM stations on the radio. By the time she found one she liked, he was getting back in the car. “Amazing how fast they can find something when it’s closing time.” He started the car and, after checking a map, made a U-turn.

“Where are we going?”

“West Seventh Street. They sell those tanks for paint-balling. The name the buyer used was Thomas Carson, with this address.” He handed her a slip of paper.

“Think the name’s a phony?”

“If it isn’t, it’d be the first one. Why don’t you call someone at the office anyhow and have them check indices. Also ask them if there’s an employee by that name. Just in case.”

Kate called the Los Angeles office and was told that no one by the name of Thomas Carson worked there, and indices also failed to find any record of it. “Nothing,” she said after hanging up. “I hope that doesn’t mean the address is no good.”

“So far, every time we have run into an alias, the address has been good. If it is this time, you know what that means.”

Kate said, “You think this is an ambush?”

“I’m hoping so.” The surprised look on her face asked
the question. “Because we’re not going to get any closer if it isn’t. Unless you’ve discovered a way to make an omelet without breaking eggs.”

She leaned back and closed her eyes. “I’m starting to wonder if there is such a thing as an omelet.”

THE WEST SEVENTH STREET
address was in a commercial neighborhood that in recent years had begun to be gentrified. The structure was a seventy-five-year-old office building and was thirteen stories, taking up a city block. Neglect and the hydrocarbons of Los Angeles’s automobile culture had left the structure stained and unappealing. But apparently someone had recognized not only the subtle architectural qualities of the building but also its easily alterable construction and dimensions and was spending several million dollars rejuvenating it. The stone pediments that accented the top two floors had been sandblasted back to their original spotless beige. The upper-floor windows had been removed, and the spaces were now covered with heavy-gauge clear plastic awaiting energy-saving replacements. Scaffolding hung from thin cables a hundred feet long. A heavy tarplike material surrounded the three lower floors to keep debris from falling. A temporary walkway with a protective overhead had been constructed along the sidewalks that surround the building. “This is different,” Vail said.

“Different how?”

“The prison and the tunnel were abandoned sites. This building’s being rehabbed.”

“It’s nice to see that the Pentad’s found a more glass-half-full place to try to kill you.”

“Not me, darlin’,
us
.” Vail turned the corner. “Let’s see if we can find the construction entrance. We’ll set up on it for a while and see what happens.”

Vail drove slowly around the building. It was a little after 10 p.m. and there was little traffic. Kate was leaning forward searching the enormous structure through the windshield. “Is that it down at the end of the building?” she asked.

“Unpainted plywood doors with a padlock on it. Looks like it, but let’s drive all the way around and see if there is any other way in.”

As they drove by, Kate could see the door had been pried open and left slightly ajar. “Looks like someone is already here.”

“Let’s get an eye on it and see if anyone else shows up.”

He parked the car as far away as he could while still being able to see the door. Both of them slouched down in the seat. For the next half hour they watched the building. Occasionally a car drove by, but none stopped. Then a man on foot rounded the corner and, under the shadows of the protective overhead, slipped into the building through the jimmied door. “Did you get a look at him? Was it Radek?” Kate asked.

“I couldn’t tell.”

“I know you’re not going to agree, but maybe it’s time to call for some help. I know that means Kaulcrick. But if we’re looking at the big finish here, will it matter?”

“That’s still a fairly good-sized if.”

“Maybe they’ve got the money hidden in there, or they’re in there splitting it up so they can run.”

“I don’t know what’s in there, but I know they wouldn’t leave a trail to the money.”

“So do we wait, or do we call in the cavalry?”

“Unfortunately, we have no choice. The two of us can’t surround this place.”

“What do I tell Don?”

“I suppose you’ve got to tell him the truth. Just minimize it by telling him we didn’t know if Radek was involved for sure until we discovered his car, which—without any bomb squad details—led us here. And now that we know that Radek’s probably involved, we didn’t want to try to arrest him until he got here.”

“That’s pretty thin,” she said.

“Then tell him we didn’t want him involved because we thought he’d screw it up.”

“Much better.” She dialed Kaulcrick’s cell and, when he answered, explained how they had identified Radek as a possible leader of the Pentad and then found his car and the booby trap, which led them to the building they now sat watching. Vail could tell by the long pauses during which Kate listened that the assistant director wasn’t buying their “stumbling” across another member of the Pentad crew.

When she hung up, Vail asked, “I’m guessing he didn’t take it like a man?”

“I think you actually have to be a man to take it like a man. He’s getting ahold of the SAC, every available agent,
SWAT, and I think he said something about the Marines. And of course he said under no circumstances are we to do anything until he gets here.”

“With that kind of call-out, we’ll be lucky if they’re here in an hour.”

“I’m guessing it’ll be closer to two.”

“No LAPD?”

“I don’t think he wants anyone stealing what’s left of the thunder.”

She looked over at Vail and could see he had shifted gears. “I don’t like sitting here waiting,” he said. “They’re not going to stay in there forever.”

“If I have to hold you at gunpoint, we’re not going in there until everyone gets here.” Then recognizing that look in his eyes, she said, “Steve, I’m begging you, don’t.”

Vail put his head back and closed his eyes. “Okay, then you’ve got first watch.”

She studied him as he sat there. His breathing slowed and she could tell he was already half asleep. She just shook her head in wonder.

For the next fifteen minutes, she busied herself with writing down the license plate numbers of passing cars. She knew it was an exercise in futility, but she hoped it would help the time pass. Then a full-size sedan pulled up to the construction door, a blue light flashing on its dashboard. She nudged Vail. “Is that an agent?”

Vail put the monocular up to his eye. “I don’t recognize him, but that doesn’t mean much. It does look like a BU car.”

A man in a suit and tie got out and, after turning off the light and drawing his weapon, carefully opened the con
struction door and slipped inside. She said, “Damn! Someone must have put out an ‘agents need assistance’ call at this address. We have to stop him.” Vail got out quickly and went to the trunk.

Kate hurried after him. He took out magazines and put them in his jacket pockets. “What are you doing?”

“Either someone at the office put out the wrong information or whoever’s inside found a way to lure an agent in there. They knew we’d see him and chase after him. He’s bait for us.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“Are you willing to take that chance? Call the office and let them know. When they get here, you can follow me in.”

“I’m going with you.”

“Wait until somebody else gets here.”

“You did hear yourself use the word ‘bait,’ didn’t you? I won’t allow you to go alone.”

Vail stared at her for a second before a short burst of laughter escaped from his mouth. “Then you’d better make that call quick.” As she took extra magazines herself, he shoved a flashlight in his back pocket. They started walking toward the building. She dialed the office. In a low tone, she explained the situation and that every available agent should proceed to the West Seventh Avenue address immediately.

They reached the door and Vail said, “When we get inside don’t say anything or move around. Just stand there and let your eyes adjust to the darkness. There should be enough light coming in off the street for us to be able to see.
If you’re going to shoot, make sure of your target. A construction job this big should have a night watchman.”

“You’re not going to use the flashlight?”

“We’ll be enough of a target.” They stepped inside, and he eased the door shut as they both listened.

Kate said, “What now?”

“If that guy was an agent, we just have to listen. Are you familiar with the expression ‘Ride to the sound of gunfire’?”

“Who said that?”

“Custer.” He turned and walked toward two dots of white light across the darkness.

“Very reassuring.”

“Stay directly behind me.”

As he suspected, the two tiny circles of light were the Up and Down buttons for an elevator. He pushed Up. “How do we know what floor?”

Vail said, “They’ll find a way to let us know.”

“Again, reassuring.”

The elevator came and they got in. Vail pushed the buttons to all the floors and then drew his automatic. Reaching up, he used the muzzle to break the single lightbulb and the car went dark. Kate took her gun from the holster and wrapped both hands around it. He said, “Don’t hold it with both hands. It makes it too hard to maneuver. You’re probably going to be ducking a lot sooner than you’ll be shooting.”

The car jolted to a stop and then swayed back and forth slightly as the doors to the second floor started to open. As soon as they were wide enough, a body in a gray uniform fell
through the opening. It was tied to an eight-foot-long two-by-six to give the corpse enough rigidity to lean against the door. The handle of a large screwdriver was sticking out of the guard’s chest. Vail checked his throat for a pulse. “I’m going to guess they know we’re here.”

Kate stared down at the body. The brutality with which he had been killed and displayed released a panicked surge of adrenaline through her bloodstream. In the dark, quiet surroundings, it seemed dreamlike, vivid but not real, something that would surely go away if she closed her eyes for just a second or two.

Vail grabbed her roughly by the arm. “You’re going to need to focus, otherwise you’re a liability.” He picked up the body, carried it out of the elevator, and laid it down with a surprising gentleness.

Kate shook her head as if trying to come out of a deep sleep. “I’m here, I’m here.”

“Good,” Vail said, pressing the button to close the elevator doors.

“You don’t think they’re on this floor?” Kate asked.

“They’re going to be closer to the top.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because it’s their MO to wear us out before we get to…”

“The Little Big Horn?”

“Close enough.”

As the doors opened at each floor, she caught herself holding her breath. With each stop, she understood the odds were increasing dramatically that the next time the doors opened, they would be waiting. Then she realized she was letting
happen exactly what Vail had warned her against—the group psyching her out. But how was it possible not to be intimidated by this? She glanced over at Vail, who appeared as matter-of-fact as usual.

Whether it was Vail’s composure or fear’s tendency to eventually diminish itself through logic, by the time the doors opened on the eleventh floor, the terror she felt was at a level only high enough to give her a combative edge. She stared into the darkness, ready. Again there was nothing. As the doors started to close, Vail grabbed one of them and pulled it open. “What!” she whispered.

“Smell it?”

She started to say no, but then she did recognize something. “Garlic?”

“Overpowering garlic.”

“So?”

“That means someone had their dinner up here. Which means they’ve been here for a while.”

“Waiting for us?”

“Once Radek found that car gone, he knew that it would only be a matter of time until we worked our way here.”

“Can you explain to me how you know that?”

“Not
now,
dear.”

She regripped her automatic. “Are we getting off?”

“Let’s go up one more floor.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Maybe the garlic isn’t intentional.” He let go of the door and it closed. “These people have played with our minds so much that logic has become a handicap. We
just have to go with instinct and hope we can react quickly enough when the time comes.”

“Wasn’t that Custer’s plan?”

“And it worked every time but one.”

The door opened on the twelfth floor. Vail and Kate could see an office straight ahead at the far end. A single light illuminated its half-glass walls. The man they had seen exiting the automobile with the flashing blue light and enter the building sat in a chair facing them. His mouth was gagged and his hands were pulled back behind him and immobile. He spotted them and started nodding his head furiously. Vail let the doors close without getting off. “What are you doing?” Kate asked.