Dead Wrong (A Cal Murphy Thriller Book 7), page 17
Here goes nothin’.
Perry pulled his cart up to the front where two men worked to get smaller packages up and loaded. A FedEx jacket hung on one of the baggage carts. As he scanned the activity on the tarmac, he slipped on the jacket. He grabbed a box and scampered up the conveyor belt, taking the man inside the plane by surprise.
“Who are you?”
Perry glanced at the man’s name badge. “Roberts, right?”
The man nodded.
“You’re needed back at logistics.”
“Did they say what it was about?”
Perry shook his head. “They said it was personal. Get goin’. I’ll take over for you.”
He was almost out of the plane when he turned around. “What did you say your name was?”
Perry pulled his jacket tight. “Johnson. Carl Johnson.”
“Thanks, Carl,” the man said as he made his way down the conveyor belt.
The man at the bottom of the conveyor belt looked up at him. “Johnson, is it?”
“Yeah. What’s your name?”
“Dick Dwyer.”
“Nice to meet ya.”
“Is this your first night loading a plane?”
Perry nodded.
“Well, you need to get a move on it. This bird’s scheduled to take off in about fifteen minutes. No foolin’ around. I don’t want it reflectin’ poorly on my record.”
“Got it.”
For the next ten minutes, Perry loaded the packages like he’d work there his entire life. With speed and efficiency, the plane was loaded five minutes early.
“Let’s go,” Dwyer said.
Perry ran down the conveyor belt.
Dwyer slapped the seat on the baggage cart next to him. “Move it.”
Perry stopped short of sliding on the seat. “Damnit. I forgot my phone. You go ahead. I’ll catch a ride with the other guys.”
“Suit yourself,” Dwyer said as he stepped on the gas pedal and puttered back toward the terminal.
Perry hustled back inside and scoped out the cabin. The pilots were too busy running through their check lists to notice him.
He slipped into the bathroom. And waited.
A couple of minutes ticked past. He heard the doors latch and the engines ignite. It wouldn’t be long and he’d be far enough away from the airport where he could figure out another plan of escape. It was a small victory, but one he needed to celebrate. There was about to be a nationwide manhunt for him, but he’d have a tremendous advantage over law enforcement as they wouldn’t know where to find him.
As Perry was quietly celebrating his escape, the door to the bathroom flung open.
“What the—” one of the pilots asked.
Perry looked almost as stunned. “I can explain.”
“You better do it quickly because I’m about to knock you out.”
Perry put his hands up. “Look, I don’t mean you any harm. I just need to get out of town and thought I could maybe catch a ride on this plane.”
“Do you work for FedEx?” the pilot asked as he glanced at Perry’s jacket.
“Yes, yes. But I don’t have any money to pay for the flight. I’m dead broke. And my mother is ill—and I need to see her. You gotta believe me.”
The pilot put his hands on his hips and sighed. He shook his head. “Fine. Just sit in that jump seat over there and don’t say a word. I’ll figure out some way to get you off the plane in Memphis without anyone seeing you.”
“Oh, thank you so much, Captain—”
“Gordon.”
Perry shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Captain Gordon. I’m Carl Johnson. You have no idea how much this means to me.”
“Well, let me just make sure it’s okay with my co-captain.”
All color left Perry’s face as he settled into his seat and latched the belt across his lap.
A clean-shaven burly man lumbered toward the back with his head down. He didn’t look up until he reached Perry’s seat.
“Johnson, is it?” the co-captain said as he stuck out his hand.
“Yes,” Perry said as he grabbed the man’s hand. “And you are?”
“Captain Bolton.”
Bolton froze and pulled his hand away from Perry’s.
“Wait a minute. I know you,” Bolton said as he pointed at him and snapped his fingers. “You’re that guy I’ve seen on TV, aren’t you? You’re that agent?”
“You talkin’ about Scott Perry?”
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
“Naw, that’s not me. I get mistaken for him quite a bit though.”
Bolton laughed. “Glad it’s not just me then.” He paused. “Well, be safe back here. No roamin’ around. I don’t know if you’ve ever ridden in our jump seats before, but it’s no picnic.”
“First time,” Perry answered.
“Well, I hope you brought your own in-flight entertainment because you’ll find none of that on this flight, nor will anyone serve you any drinks. You’re all on your own.”
“I understand.”
“Good. And stay seated at all times, unless you have to use the restroom. It’s dangerous back here.”
“Got it.”
Once Captain Bolton disappeared into the cockpit and shut the door, Perry let out a sigh and shook his head.
I can’t believe I talked my way out of that one.
The planed started moving, and Perry pumped his fist.
I did it.
He wanted to ignore the captain’s orders and get up to do a little victory jig.
Then he was glad he didn’t.
The plane lurched forward and came to a halt before the cockpit door flew open.
“I knew you were a lyin’ bastard,” Bolton said.
Perry scrambled to unbuckle. He freed himself and headed for the bowels of the plane before a strong hand grabbed a swath of his shirt and yanked him backward.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Bolton asked.
Perry struggled to get free, but it was no use.
“Please,” Perry pleaded. “I’ll pay you whatever you want.”
Bolton laughed. “I doubt that.” He stopped and growled. “Besides, I’ll turn you in on principle—not to mention the way you gutted my Grizzlies in free agency. You deserve to go to prison for that crime alone.”
Perry stopped wriggling. Bolton was right.
He was out of options.
CHAPTER 53
CAL PULLED INTO HIS DRIVEWAY when his phone buzzed with a call from Tom Corliss. He took a deep breath and answered it, hoping to hear the news that would determine if he’d get a peaceful night of sleep or not.
“What you got, Corliss?” Cal said as he answered.
“You won’t believe this, but we have the bastard. He was trying to stow away on a FedEx plane after he escaped the commercial flight.”
“Excellent.”
“And since this now falls completely under the F.B.I.’s jurisdiction thanks to the involvement of the Bratva, I need you to meet me at our downtown office to make a statement.”
Cal sighed. “Fine. Give me some time. I need to talk with Kelly.”
“Take all the time you need. We’re not going anywhere tonight.”
Cal hung up and shuffled inside. Kelly was waiting in the front sitting room when he arrived. She gave him a hug.
“I’m so glad you’re home.”
“Unfortunately, not for long.”
Her face fell. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t worry. It’s okay. Corliss called me and told me they finally captured Scott Perry when he was trying to escape on a FedEx flight out of Reagan National tonight.”
She put her hands to her mouth. “Thank God.”
“Yeah, but they need me to make a statement. So, I need to go downtown and tell them what happened.”
“Do you think we’re safe?”
“If I didn’t think so, I wouldn’t leave.”
“Be safe and hurry home.”
***
AT THE F.B.I. OFFICES, Cal gaped at the hive of activity for such a late hour.
“Busy tonight,” Cal said as he shook Corliss’s hand.
“Friday night after midnight with the F.B.I.—it’s no different than any other night. You think we have real lives?”
Cal laughed and stopped once he realized Corliss wasn’t joking.
“Follow me.”
Cal walked behind Corliss through a maze of cubicles until they arrived in a private room. Corliss shut the door and gestured for Cal to sit down.
“Cal, I’m sorry, but I didn’t tell you everything.”
With his hands folded on the table in front of him, Cal leaned forward. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that something happened tonight—and I’m not sure you’re going to be comfortable with the result.”
Cal furrowed his brow. “What exactly are you talking about?”
“You might end up being the government’s star witness in this case.”
“How could that even be possible? I wasn’t there. I didn’t see anything.”
Corliss held up his finger. “But you did see something, something that this case will hinge upon.” He slid a folder toward Cal.
Cal opened up the folder and jumped back at the sight of the picture on top. A large man splayed on the floor with his chest and face covered in blood. His eyes looked vacant, obviously dead.
“Who is this?”
“Look at his arm.”
Cal peered closer at the picture and recognized the familiar tattoo on the man’s forearm. “Bratva?”
Corliss nodded.
“When did this happen?”
“Tonight. After I spoke with you, I sent a team down to that warehouse in an attempt to round up these henchmen so we can link them to Scott Perry. But now we have a problem.”
“You killed them all?”
Corliss sighed. “Unfortunately, yes. They ambushed our men and we had no choice but to shoot our way out. We lost one of our agents but killed all six of the bastards.”
“So, where’s that leave you with your case against Perry? Can you still prove he hired them?”
“Yes, but it’s going to be far more difficult, not to mention there’s no way he’s going to talk for fear of what they might do to his family.”
Cal shook his head. “What makes you think Perry cares about his family? He was caught trying to flee the country and abandon them and everything else.”
“That’s wishful thinking on your part. The very reason he was leaving was an attempt to save his family—along with his own hide. But he very much cares about them.”
“And you don’t think there’s any kind of money trail or phone records that could prove he hired them?”
Corliss took a deep breath. “Not so far. We raided his office earlier and found nothing. Our agents haven’t come up with anything from a sweep of his house either. The only thing we did find from the raid on the Bratva hideout was a pile of drugs—the same kind found in Kelvin Jameson’s hotel room the night he was murdered. But everything we have is very circumstantial—except what he told you.”
Cal threw his hands up. “Hey, now. I don’t mind writing about this stuff, but I don’t know if I want to get involved here.”
“If you don’t, Perry’s gonna walk.”
“Doesn’t sound like he’ll get too far.”
“Perhaps not, but I really need your help. The government needs your help to put this scumbag away. A family needs your help to get closure and answers for the senseless murder of a man still in his prime.”
Cal looked down and scratched at the table. He remained silent and took several deep breaths.
“Have you even interviewed Perry yet?”
“Metropolitan Police took him first while we cleared up jurisdiction matters, but we’re arranging to have him transferred here within the hour.”
Cal thought as he gazed at his reflection in the two-way mirror. “Look, maybe there’s another way I can help.”
Corliss’s eyebrows shot upward. “I’m listening.”
“What if I find a paper trail for you that connects Perry and the Bratva? Would that suffice without me having to testify in open court against the Russian mafia?”
“Depends. See what you can do. Either way, we’re not going to be able to close this case without you.” He paused as both men stood up. “So, Cal, there’s one thing that’s been bugging me about Perry’s actions this whole time.”
“What’s that?”
“How does a guy like him connect up with the Bratva? It’s not like he’d know where to look or who to contact.”
Cal nodded and smiled. “I was thinking the same thing—but I don’t think it’s a coincidence any longer. It also helps explain one other mystery about this case.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ll tell you once I get proof.”
CHAPTER 54
SCOTT PERRY SHUFFLED TOWARD a holding cell after a brief interrogation. He wanted his lawyer, though he didn’t think it would do much good given the fact that any of the Bratva members would roll over on him to save their own skin. Taking down a few faceless Russian mafia members would barely merit a mention in the news. But take down a high-profile agent?
Perry snickered at the thought. He wasn’t anywhere close to high profile anything now. Hadn’t been for a while. The mass exodus from his agency cemented his position in the pecking order—and it was now near the bottom. He knew he needed to stop the charade with Scarlett for a while, but he just couldn’t. No matter how bad things appeared, he figured he’d be able to turn it around somehow. He’d sign the next big star in basketball or football—and he’d be back in the game. But for the past three years, he hadn’t signed anybody worth much, and the attrition caused his agency to slowly rot away.
So, instead of shutting down his agency, he forged ahead to the point that he was on the verge of not just losing his business, but losing everything. He knew he’d lose Scarlett for sure, though he wasn’t sure that was such a bad consequence. But he couldn’t lose his girls. He was willing to flee the country for their safety and overall well-being. However, if Scarlett divorced him, she’d bleed him dry and use the girls as pawns. It’d be a disaster.
If it wasn’t going that way, he wouldn’t have been so open to the idea that got him into this mess. All he had to do was agree to it and he’d have enough capital to sustain his business and—more importantly, his lifestyle—for another year. Ever the optimist, Perry concluded this was his last opportunity to get back on top, not to mention his best one, too.
So, he went along with it, making sure there wasn’t a trace of evidence to be found. No phone records. No public meetings. No emails. Nothing. At least, nothing out of the ordinary.
It was foolproof.
Then I had to open my big mouth.
Now, a relentless reporter knew the truth and was going to expose him.
But better he be exposed than the rest of his family.
Maybe the truth will come out one day.
Before Perry could think another thought, he felt a sharp pain in his back.
“Oh, my god. What—”
He crumpled to the floor face down and writhed in pain.
“Help me! Somebody, help me!”
He rolled over and looked up at the man standing over him. His grin was menacing, but not nearly as much as the shiv in his right hand.
“What are you doing?” Perry asked with wide eyes.
The man knelt down, putting his knee on Perry’s chest.
Then he jammed his shiv into Perry’s throat.
The last thing Perry saw was the Bratva tattoo on the man’s right forearm.
CHAPTER 55
CAL’S SATURDAY MORNING STARTED rudely with an eight o’clock wake-up call from Tom Corliss. Cal moaned as he rolled over toward his nightstand. Kelly pushed him in the back while she muttered unintelligible things.
“Geez, do you guys ever sleep?” Cal said as he answered his phone.
“Cal, I’ve got some bad news.”
“What? What happened?”
“It’s Perry. He’s dead.”
“What? How? I thought you were going to pick him up last night from Metro.”
“Yeah, well that didn’t exactly happen. Some Bratva member, who was in the holding facility because he walked up to a police officer and slugged him less than thirty minutes after Perry was arrested, got to him. Stabbed him in a general holding cell.”
“You gotta be kidding me.”
“I wish I was. But this case is pretty much dead now. We can’t prove anything—at least without your help. Not that this is going to be a high priority now.”
“I understand. I’ll see what I can find out and call you back later.”
Cal hung up and sighed. “Disaster averted—though I do feel a little guilty for feeling so giddy about it.”
“What happened?” Kelly groaned.
“I didn’t tell you this last night because I didn’t want you to get all worried about it, but Tom Corliss asked me to testify against Perry. With the Bratva obviously involved, I wasn’t too keen on that idea to say the least.”
“So, why don’t you have to testify now?”
“Perry’s dead.”
Kelly shot up and rubbed her eyes. “Run that by me again.”
“You heard me. Perry’s dead.”
“How?”
“Somebody got to him in a Metro jail last night before the F.B.I. took custody of him.”
“So, what are you gonna do about it now?”
“There are still some unresolved issues and a story that needs to be written.” Cal paused. “There’s also a murderer still on the loose.”
CHAPTER 56
CAL HUSTLED UP THE STAIRS to his office at The Washington Times’ office and began sorting through his files. The office was nearly vacant with the exception of a few die-hard editors—and Marcus Hale. Cal wondered how long it’d take Hale to notice him and read him the riot act for not already having a story submitted about Scott Perry’s murder.
