When No One Came, page 27
Mac nodded. “We’ve got people shooting at us from within and without law enforcement. We need to ID the bad guys. But it helps if we can nail down who might be the good guys. I mean, just playing the lottery there’s got to be a few, right?”
“And when did you turn into an optimist?” Stan Warren muttered as they walked out of the room.
Mac laughed. Angie was waiting for him. But so was Misaki. “Work? Then walk?” he asked. Angie nodded, and the three of them went upstairs to the computer room.
It had been a very long day, and it worried Mac. He was getting sluggish, and mistakes could be deadly. But Misaki was a night owl apparently. She was bouncing with eagerness to work on this part of it. “I wonder if they have a job opening,” she mused. “I’d be good at competitions like that.”
Mac glanced at her clothes. Still all black, but today it was jeans and a band T-shirt that slid off one shoulder. The hair and the makeup was still in place. He wondered suddenly if the hair was actually a wig? Must be. “Might have to tone down the clothes,” he said dryly. “They all looked like they dressed from the Gap. And not particularly well, either.”
Angie giggled. “So true.”
Misaki grinned. “I can do that look,” she said confidently. “I have done that look.”
Misaki glanced at the clock. It was close to 10 p.m. and she seemed to deem that acceptable because she nodded once. “Dial into your voicemail,” she ordered.
Mac did and waited for her next instructions. Who knew? You could respond to the voice message from there. “It goes out as that number?” he asked, as they listened to the phone ring. Misaki nodded.
“Hello?” A timid young woman said.
“Hi, this is Mac,” he said keeping his voice easy. “Is this a good time to talk?”
“Oh!” she said. There was a pause. He thought she might be walking to another room. “OK, I can now. I looked you up. You’re the one writing those stories this week? About the shooting in Sand Point.”
“I am,” he said. “I listened to your voicemail about the competitions. Does the story about the police officer getting shot in a drive-by last weekend sound familiar? If it was a cop instead of a crook?”
She was silent. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Try talking about it to me,” he said, remembering to smile as he talked. A prof used to tell them to do that – it carried in the voice. And she was right. “I’m told I’m a good listener.”
“Your girlfriend tell you that?” she teased.
“She does, actually,” Mac said. “And maybe more important? So does my boss — another woman.”
She laughed and sounded less stressed. “So at least once a month we are given a scenario to game out. Best solution wins a prize. And it’s a good bonus. I got it once.”
“Can you give me an example of a scenario?”
“Well you heard the one that freaks me out,” she said, a bit self-depreciatingly. “The one I won was for a town that has been taken over by zombies and we’re going in to rescue a family trapped in there. Really, most of them sound like potential games, you know?”
“That’s all the details you’re given? Go into the town, kill the zombies and rescue the family?” Mac couldn’t see the challenge.
“No there’s more to it than that, usually. Like that one, no one believes in zombies, so you can’t just kill them. You have to do it without being noticed — not by the zombies, not by the towns around the town. Sometimes it’s two-tier. Like that one. I figured out how to get in and get out — a visiting circus — and then I was sent a follow-up scenario where the circus animals got out and were infected, and we had to run for it. Silly really.”
Mac was watching Misaki who was frowning and typing rapidly on her computer.
“But this one? The question was how to keep the bad guys from calling into their dispatcher for backup? One in an isolated area, and one in a cul-de-sac neighborhood?”
“Yeah,” she said, troubled.
Misaki made a slashing cut across her throat. Mac nodded. “Look, I’d like to talk further, but I can’t right now. Can you call me back tomorrow? I’ll be at that number between 6 a.m. and 8 a.m. OK?”
“Wait!”
Mac hung up. He looked at Misaki. “What?”
“Someone was eavesdropping,” she said sounding troubled. “Tracing the call, I think.”
“So it would trace to the newspaper?” Mac said slowly.
“Yeah, so we’re good,” Misaki said.
“But someone now knows she’s talking to the newspaper?” Mac asked. He was already heading out the door.
“Wait, Mac,” Angie said. “You need me to drive.”
He hesitated, and then nodded. “Let’s go.”
Mac had Angie drive to the Bellevue movie theater at Crossroads. He used his cell and dialed the number again. No one picked up. He hit redial. “Hello?” someone said cautiously. The same girl.
“This is Mac,” he said. “I wanted to check back with you. You OK?”
“Sure,” she said, and sounded puzzled. “You’re calling from a different number?”
“My phone,” he said easily. “Look, I’m a bit worried about your safety. Do you have a friend or someone you could go stay with? Someone who isn’t connected to your job?”
“Why?” she asked suspiciously. “Did you tell someone I called you?”
“No,” he assured her. A lie, but no one she needed to worry about. “But I’m the kind of guy who carries an umbrella in the car in August, you know?”
She laughed. “I can go home and see my folks,” she agreed. “But tonight?”
“I’d feel better,” Mac said. “And then call me in the morning?”
“Really? That early?”
“Yeah,” he said sourly. “That’s when I’m at the office on deadline. Sucks, doesn’t it?”
He could hear a pounding on the door. “Were you expecting someone?” he asked her.
“No,” she said slowly.
“Open up,” he heard. “Police!”
“I don’t know your name,” Mac said.
“Sharon, Sharon Costello,” she stammered. “I should answer that.”
“No,” Mac said. “Don’t. Where are you?”
“In the bathroom. It’s the best place for private phone calls. I didn’t want my roommates to come home and walk in on our call.”
“You have roommates?” Mac asked.
“They’re not home. They went to the bar, but I didn’t feel like going.”
“Listen, Sharon. I want you to stay in the bathroom. Do not open the door,” Mac said urgently. “Give me your address. OK? I’m going to come check on you. If it’s cops? Cool. If it’s someone pretending to be cops? Not so cool.”
“OK,” she said after a pause. She gave him an address in Bothel. He repeated it back to her, and Angie put the car in gear and headed there. Mac kept Sharon on the line.
Whoever was at the door went away. Sharon was tense, but Mac didn’t let her hang up. “Humor me,” he said. “I was a Marine. Paranoid is kind of my middle name.”
She giggled. He got her to talk about working for Whalen. She told him about the work, about the websites they managed. About the programming she was doing. “Good wages?” he said casually.
“Pretty good,” she said. “Comparable to Microsoft, although they’re not the best either. But....”
“But?” he prompted.
“Last week, Mr. Whalen asked us if we could wait a week for a paycheck. He promised a big bonus if we would. Said an investor was holding up a check.”
“First time it’s happened?” Mac asked.
“No,” she said. “Last time it was just a weekend though. I’m job hunting. I think we all are. It’s not a good sign.”
“No, it doesn’t sound good,” he agreed. Angie pulled into a parking lot outside a two-story apartment complex. It was a bit rundown, but Mac could see it as a place for a bunch of recent grads to rent. Angie pulled through the parking lot slowly. He studied the cars. He nodded toward a black SUV. The plates in back were obscured. He didn’t see anyone in it when they drove by. Mac grimaced.
“Sharon?” he said. “Tell me about your complex. How do you get inside your apartment? Where do you park?”
He had her walk him through her nightly routine. “Any other way out of your apartment? Some way that doesn’t lead to that parking lot?”
“Sure,” she said. “I can go out the back side of the building to the walk along the river.”
Mac winced. No, that wasn’t an improvement. “OK,” he said. “Listen. There is a suspicious vehicle in your lot. No one is in it. But I don’t like it. My girlfriend Angie is driving — you met her today, right? She’s driving a blue Honda Civic. She’s going to pull into the no-parking strip at the base of your steps. I want you to come down those steps briskly, and get into the passenger seat, OK? Don’t hesitate. Don’t look around. If someone calls your name? Don’t pause for any reason. Got that?”
“Yes,” she said slowly. “Where will you be?”
“I’m going to check things out. Angie will pick me up after you’re in the car.”
When Sharon agreed, Mac had Angie pull through the lot and drive back around to the main entrance. While she was making the turn back into the parking lot, he slid out of the car, his Glock in his pocket. Angie pulled smoothly into the lot and parked where he’d described. He blended into the shrubbery and pulled out his Glock.
“Smart,” said Craig Anderson in a conversational tone from nearby.
Mac didn’t flinch. Didn’t turn toward him either. Anderson wasn’t who he was worried about.
“Who else is out here — Malloy?” Mac asked in the same quiet voice Anderson was using.
“Got a call that someone was talking to the press,” Craig said. “Malloy called me for backup. Yeah, he’s out there.”
“And are you? You going to back him up?” Mac asked, thinking the man was crazier than a loon. Might be crazier than Malloy.
“Sure — if someone shoots at him, I’ll shoot back,” Craig said. Mac could almost hear the shrug in his voice. “But you’re not going to shoot at him, right?”
“Not unless he tries to harm Angie or her friend,” Mac agreed.
“Might want to check out Angie’s friends,” Craig suggested. “Not sure how reliable this one is. Seems a bit flaky.”
“They’re all flaky at that age,” Mac said morosely. Craig laughed.
“Even Angie?” he teased.
“No,” Mac agreed. “She’s not flaky. That’s why I went after her. Not going to let her go either.”
“You do that,” Craig said. “I wish I’d done a better job of it with my girl back in the day. I probably wouldn’t be playing robbers and robbers with a stupid ex-cop like Malloy.”
“Not too late, Craig,” Mac said. “I’ve kept your name out of things. Walk away.”
“Can’t, until you take them all down, Mac. They’ve got dirt on me, and I’m stuck. You clean house? And the dirt goes away.” He snickered at the pun.
Even Mac had to laugh a bit. “I’ll do my best,” he promised. “Keep your head down.”
“Always,” Craig said. “There goes your girl. And there’s goes Malloy after them. On foot. Stupid bastard.”
Mac laughed. He let his Glock dangle along his side, and when Angie pulled back along the curb, he slid into the back seat. At least it was a four door, he thought a bit disgruntled. But there sure wasn’t any leg room.
“Was that Craig Anderson?” she demanded as she pulled away.
“Yes,” Mac said. He glanced out the back window. “Duck!” he ordered when he saw Malloy stand in the street with his gun in a two-handed grip. “A bit of weaving would be good.” He turned so he could shoot back if he had to. But he saw Anderson walk up to Malloy — just two men arguing in the street. Mac rolled his eyes. Like that wasn’t conspicuous or anything.
“You said something about your parents’ place?” he said at last. Sharon looked back at the two men arguing in the street, and she shakily gave him an address in Kirkland. Thank God. He didn’t feel like riding all over greater Seattle in the backseat of a Honda Civic.
And given Craig’s comment about flaky, he wasn’t taking her to the safe house either.
“How did you get on with Whalen?” he asked idly thinking about Misaki’s idea to apply.
“He goes to my church,” she said. “When I graduated, Dad introduced me to him after church one Sunday. They attend the same men’s fellowship.”
Mac didn’t respond to that. He needed to talk to Tim again though.
Angie pulled up in front of a ranch style house and parked. Sharon started to get out.
“Sharon?” Mac said. “You are in way over your head. And he’s not even paying you? Call in and give your notice and don’t go back. Call your roommates. Tell them you’ve lost your job and you’re moving home. Don’t tell them where you are. Don’t tell your work where you are.”
Sharon nodded. “And call you in the morning.”
“And call me in the morning,” Mac agreed. He got into the front seat. Angie drove away.
“You don’t believe her?” she asked.
Mac considered that. He told her what Craig had said about flaky. “And she goes to the same church, Angie. I’m not going to risk adding her to the safe house,” he said. “If she does what I told her to do, she’ll be fine. If she doesn’t? Well, at least she won’t bring all of us down with her.”
“That’s a bit cold.” Angie didn’t look at him.
“Tired,” he offered up. “Do you see it differently?”
Angie thought about it. “No,” she said slowly. “It seemed a bit convenient.”
“Like a scenario someone might have gamed?” Mac asked.
She nodded. “Like that. But zombies?”
Mac shook his head. “He might be using them to design video games for all we know. And then he slips in something he needs. He would still need someone to actually run the gig Friday night. One of his techs, would be my guess. Maybe two. Misaki will know.”
“You going to call Lorde tonight?” she asked as she drove through Clyde Hill toward the Parker house. “You told Janet you would.”
Mac glanced at the clock on the dashboard. It was nearly midnight. He checked his instincts. Lorde needed to know. “Yeah,” he said. “Either I run the risk of waking him up tonight, or I wake him up at 6 a.m. So better to do it now.”
She nodded and pulled into a garden center parking lot. Mac raised an eyebrow. “Janet likes it,” she said. Mac grinned.
Seeing no lights behind her, she drove the six or so blocks to the house. She turned off her lights once she hit Evergreen Drive. Mac was intrigued. “Why?” he asked.
She shrugged. “It feels like there’s someone watching the place,” she said. “No point in giving rise to paranoia about cars coming and going this late.”
Mac’s eyes narrowed, and he studied her thoughtfully. “Any reason for thinking someone is watching? Or is it just paranoia speaking? And remember, I think paranoia is smart.”
Angie laughed. She rolled down the windows so the guard could see in. It was Benton Weeks. He nodded at the two of them and opened the gate. Mac still didn’t like the guard gate setup. The guard house was inside the gate, which was good, but the gate was bars. You could shoot through it. And it wasn’t electrified either — a person could go over it. Mac grinned, he’d watched that happen the last time he’d been out here. The guard got distracted by a pretty television reporter, and a protester had gone over the gate. It had been an amazing clusterfuck that had been just the distraction he’d needed to get in.
Unfortunately, it hadn’t been enough of a distraction to get everyone out, and Danny had paid the price. He clamped down on that thought. This house held bad memories, no lie.
Angie drove down to the house and parked her car out of sight. “Call Lorde,” she said. “Then come to bed.”
Mac’s eyes crinkled. “We could skip that first step, proceed directly to the go to bed step.”
She laughed. “Nope.”
Mac found a quiet spot in one of the many rooms in this 30,000 square foot house. Shorty had once described it as being almost large enough to house a Nordstrom. He didn’t know why Parker thought he needed a house the size of a department store, but it sure helped when you had.... Mac had to pause and think, two families, two couples, and seven additional adults? Thirteen adults and seven kids? And an oversized dog? He wasn’t even sure he had an accurate count. He shook his head at that. But there was plenty of room and then some.
He sighed and pulled out Lorde’s number and called it. It rang, but he didn’t pick up. Mac frowned. It was a different number, he realized. He sent a text message identifying himself, waited, and called again.
“Hello,” Trevor Lorde said. “New number?”
“Old one got hacked. We upgraded telephone security,” Mac said. “So I talked to Nick today. He’s his usual irascible self — good news. But he says this is about Rourke. The rest are just tagging along.” He repeated everything Nick had told him.
Lorde was silent. “And what conclusions do you draw from that?”
“It’s been a year, Captain Lorde,” Mac said. “Whalen’s case is dragging on because he keeps picking at it. But you should have moved on to other cases, other cops. So Rourke moving people off targets a year ago is significant, and it brought him to your attention. But your office focuses on cops who have a pattern of abuse not one-offs. Rourke is a bad actor. And that wasn’t the only incident.”
Lorde sighed. “No it wasn’t the only incident. I’m not clear what his agenda is. And maybe he just does other people’s bidding. I haven’t found enough evidence to get banking data however, to see if he’s on the take.”
Mac jotted a note to check with Janet on that. “What bank?” he asked.
Lorde was silent for a moment. “What the hell, Mac?”
Mac gave him time to think about it.
“Washington Federal is the only one I’ve found,” he said finally. “And I just gave you enough rope to hang me.”
