ACT 3
August was pouring himself his first cup of coffee when James walked into the squad room and
came over. "How'd it go last night?" August asked, taking a drink.
James put his hands in his pockets. "Interesting."
"What did you find?"
James motioned with his head. "Let's go someplace quiet."
Moments later, James was shutting the door to the interrogation room. They stepped to
the center of the room as he took a microcassette-recorder from inside his jacket. "Listen
to this," he said, and thumbed the PLAY button.
The sound was a bit distant, slightly muffled, but clear enough to be heard. "Sorry
we had to meet way out here, but it was closer to where I was today."
"I don't know how much longer I can keep this up."
"Why's that?"
"I think things are getting a little tight, you know?"
"Really."
"I just wish there was a better way we could do this."
"Tell you what. I'll call him tonight and see what we can arrange. Maybe we can work
something out until things lift up. Okay?"
"Sounds good."
James stopped the tape. "So, what do you think?"
August raised an eyebrow. "Sounds suspicious. He said 'way out here.' Where were
they?"
"I tailed her all the way down to Long Beach. They met at the parking lot for the
Queen Mary. What do you think we should do."
August seemed to still be thinking, and said, "I think we should see Jensen."
James let out a sigh. "Let's do it."
As they entered Captain Jensen's office seconds later, August said, "We need to have a
word with you, Captain."
"Sure. What's up?"
James said, "August and I were trying to figure out what angle to come at his mole
thing, and so we thought we'd check out the new civilian aides to see if any of them had a
criminal record. And only Stacey Townson came back with a red flag."
Jensen sat up. "Oh?"
"Yeah, Captain," August said. "In 1998, she was was arrested for accessory to robbery.
She was part of a group of people who robbed a couple liquor stores."
"And," James said, "I think we have more evidence that proves she might me our leak."
He held up the mini-tape player and pressed the PLAY button. Jensen put a finger to his
lips, listening quietly as the recorded conversation played out. When it was over, he sat
back.
"Gentleman, I doubt Stacey Townson is our mole."
The detectives looked at one another. "Why do you say that?" James asked.
"I knew about the robbery charge."
Another look was exchanged between the two. "What? But we thought the aide's were
supposed to have clean records."
"I've known Stacey Townson for about ten years now. She leaves a couple houses down
from me. A few years back she happened to fall into the wrong group of friends. She
confided in me that she was scared of them, but was even more scared of the idea of what
they might try to do to her if she ever tried to get away from them. Stacey was roped into
doing those robberies against her will. I think I know her well enough to believe that she
would never have done it on her own."
James gestured with the player. "But what about this conversation, Captain?"
Jensen nodded. "Curious, definitely. And give the circumstances that led you to record
it, I can't say I blame you for forming what you think is the conclusion to all this. If
you want to approach her, do it nice and easy. But it could be something very simple. Like
I said: I highly doubt she's our mole."
Chase slowed to a stop. They were at the border to Arizona, about five cars back. Rachel
looked down at her bare legs and slapped her knees with her hands. "Well, those were my
favorite, most comfortable pair of jeans."
Chase just smiled forgivingly. "I'll buy you a new pair in the next town." He let up
on the brake and coasted forward as the line moved up one.
"So, how long you been a cop?"
"Almost ten years."
"Must have had a lot of exciting cases."
He nodded. "I've had my fair share."
"Do you see a lot of action?"
"Oh, quite a bit."
"What's the most outrageous case you've ever had? No, wait. What's the most outrageous
thing you've ever done while in pursuit of a suspect?"
He started to laugh. "Oh boy. Take a number," he said.
She smiled. "That outrageous, hu?"
Chase just nodded, moving up further. Soon they were at the border station. An older
man with thinning hair and clipboard stepped forward as Chase rolled down the window. "Nice
car you got here," the man commented.
"Thanks."
"Used to have one myself. Bought it the day it was brand new. Where you folks coming
from?"
"Albuquerque," Chase said. "Headed out to California for a little vacation."
"Not the best car in the world for such travel."
Chase gave a smile and a shrug. "Yeah, well, not much you can do when it's the only
one you got. Didn't feel comfortable leaving it behind, either."
"Understandable. Well, have a nice trip you two."
"Thanks." Chase let up off the brake and rolled on, driving away. "If I may ask, how
did you end up with a car like this? I mean, it's not everyday you see such a beautiful lady
driving such a great car."
"From my brother, actually. He bought it back in the 80s and put a lot of time and
money into fixing it up, making it better than new. When he got called away for the Gulf
War, he said I could look after it for him until he got back. He never did."
"I'm sorry."
She nodded her thanks quietly. "Ever since, I've kept my promise I'd look after it.
I clean her, I fuel her, and she runs great. I just wish he was here to see that's she
still as good as she was when he last saw her."
"I'm sure wherever he is he knows."
"Yeah. Me, too."
Stacey walked up to August's desk. James was sitting against the edge. "You guys wanted to
see me?" she said.
August stood. "Yeah, Stacey, we did. Let's take a walk."
They exited out the back of the station into the rear parking lot. "What's up, guys?"
"First of all," August said, "this pertains to a highly-classified case that we're
working on, so we can't say all the details. But, something's come up that points in the
direction of a mole inside the police station."
"A mole? You mean, like, oh. Someone's giving out information?"
"Exactly," James said.
"We did some investigation trying to find them, and we came across the robbery charge
in your record."
She seemed worried, like she suddenly didn't want to be there. "Oh."
"I had James tail you last night, and he followed you to Long Beach, where he saw you
make a money exchange."
"Guys, I can explain."
"That's what we want," James said.
"It was money, but I am not a mole or something, okay? It was child-support money.
My husband and I split up a few months ago, and we have a six-year-old son."
James took the mini-player from his pocket and played the tape. "I don't know how
much longer I can keep this up."
"Why's that?"
"I think things are getting a little tight, you know?"
"Really."
"I just wish there was a better way we could do this."
"Tell you what. I'll call him tonight and see what we can arrange. Maybe we can work
something out until things lift up. Okay?"
"What about all that?" James asked, putting the player away.
"Money is getting tight for me," she explained. "This civilian aide job isn't exactly
the highest-paying in the world, and I just lost my other job, which still isn't great-
paying but at least it was substantial."
August said, "What about, 'I'll call him tonight and see what we can arrange?'"
"He was talking about his lawyer. He was going to call him and see if he could work
out a smaller support payment until the money gets up for me again. I swear, guys, I'm not
a mole. I've never even ratted out a friend when we were kids. I swear I'm not giving out
information."
The detectives traded looks. Somehow, they believed her.
Chase drove with one hand on the wheel, the other trying to find a decent radio station.
But the tuner was picking up nothing but faint, garbled stations or nothing but static.
Fed up, he switched it off and was just putting his hand back on the wheel when an odd
noise started coming from the car. "What the . . . ?"
"What is that?" Rachel asked.
"I don't know." The car began losing speed. He steered the car off the road and
rolled to a stop in the dirt. "Great. Great! I don't believe this." He turned the key,
trying to restart the engine, but it just moaned in response. "This is great. We're stuck.
We're stuck in the middle of nowhere with hitmen on our tail. I don't suppose you have a
cell-phone, do you?"
She shook her head. "Sorry."
"Okay, hang on," he said, and climbed out. A car was coming in their direction, a
large BMW with Colorado plates. Chase stepped to the pavement and waved his arms, but they
just drove on buy, leaving him in a streak. "Damn it," he shouted, and threw his fist at
them.
He heard another car and turned. It was a pick-up truck carrying a large load covered
with a blue tarp. He waved for the driver to stop, and had just a brief glimpse of the man
inside laughing at him as he raced past. Chase yelled an obscenity at him that was drowned
out by the truck's engine.
He walked back to the Mustang and leaned down, one arm against the roof. "Looks like
there's no more helpful people left in the world, hu?"
Rachel looked into the mirror and saw another car coming. "Here. Let me try." She got
out and walked around the front of the car, stopping, waiting. When the car was almost
there, she walked out toward the road and stood with her hands on her hips. Chase leaned
back on the car with arms crossed and watched amusingly. He knew what was coming.
The driver, a young kid from Texas probably no older than twenty-two, was listening
to a cassette of Rolling Stones when he saw nothing but two gorgeous legs suddenly appear
a short distance away, off near the side of the road. He slammed his foot down on the brake
and tried to keep control of the car as the vehicle skidded to a stop, coming to rest a
yard or two ahead of them.
Rachel looked back at Chase. "I'd say there's still a couple."
The car backed up as the passenger-side window rolled down, and the kid leaned over.
Rachel put her arms on the window frame and looked in. "How you doing?" she asked with a
smile.
"Hi, ma'am," the kid said with a distinct Texas accent. "Car trouble?"
"It's the darndest thing. Do you happen to have a cell-phone?"
He fumbled around in the mess on the passenger seat: books, a walkman with headphones,
a portable CD player and several CDs, a few cassette tapes, some lose clothes, and a video
camera. He came out with a cell-phone after a few seconds of searching and handed it to her.
"Thanks," she said. "I'll just be a minute." She took it back to Chase and handed it
to him.
"Pretty impressive," he said, dialing. "I guess you've seen enough movies to learn it
really works?"
She smiled. "Actually, let's just say this isn't the first time I've had to do that."
He just looked at her. "I won't even ask."
"Just get that report to me by this evening, Roberts," Captain Jensen said, walking backwards
down the hall, then hurried into his office, pushing the door shut behind him. He answered
the phone. "Jensen."
"Captain, it's Chase."
"Where are you?"
"About a half-hour or so outside Flagstaff, but we've had a little car trouble."
"What kind of car trouble?"
"I'm not sure. We were driving along and it just stopped on us. I need you to find a
repair shop in Flagstaff that'll send out a tow truck to bring us in."
"Okay, I'll get right on it. Can I call you back?"
"It's not my phone. Just borrowing it from someone passing by."
"Okay. I'll call right now. Just sit tight."
"Sure thing, Captain."
Jensen hung up and was turning for the door when August and James entered. "I was just
coming to get you guys."
"What's up?" August asked.
"I just got off the phone with Chase. Him and the girl are stuck outside of Flagstaff.
They had some car trouble. I need to find a repair place with a tow truck to bring them into
town. Did you find out anything from Stacey?"
"Yeah," James said. "She says she was paying her husband child-support morning. I
think I believe her, Captain."
August nodded. "Yeah, me, too."
"See? I told you two it would be something simple. Get back to work on plugging that
leak. I need to make some calls to Flagstaff."
James pulled the door shut as they left the office. "So, what do we do know? I thought
we had a great lead with Stacey, but now we're back to square one."
They walked back to the squad room, passing a janitor in blue coveralls pushing a
cart. "We have to think," August said. "Neither of us have said anything, and neither has
Jensen. No one knows outside his office. Who would have access to it when he's not there?"
James cast a casual glance back down the hall as he shook his head, and stopped. "I
think I know."
"Who?"
He pointed, and August looked. The janitor was pushing his cart down the hall,
nervously looking left and right as he started dialing on a cell-phone. "I'll be a son of
a . . . " August said. They walked toward him. "Excuse me."
The janitor turned and saw them, and bolted down the hall.
"That's our man," James said, and they gave chase.
At the end of the hall, the janitor froze for a brief second, looking right then left.
To his right, the hall was blocked by a group of uniformed policemen having a conversation.
But it was clear to his left, and he ran toward the elevator. He shoved station personel out
of his way, grabbing the top corner of a file cabinet and pulling it down.
They rounded the corner and barely had time to jump over the obstacle. August's foot
caught on the cabinet, and he yelled out as he pitched to the floor. But James cleared it
like an Olympic runner and hit the ground running. The janitor gave a yelp as he looked back
over his shoulder and saw James charging. The elevator door opened with a ding, and he
hurried forward.
He was almost to it when James worked up a final burst of energy and jumped forward.
He tackled the janitor and they fell forward into the elevator. The janitor lay gasping for
air as James got to his feet. August came running up and held the doors open. "Think you
can out-run a cop in a police station?" he asked, then grabbed the man by the collar and
lifted him to his feet. "Come on. Let's go have a talk."
Minutes later, they were in the interrogation room. "You're giving information to
Vincent Calretti, aren't you?" James asked. "Aren't you?"
"Please, I don't know what you're talking about."
August leaned forward. "You are the only person who has access to the captain's office
when he's not in it. He locks it everytime he leaves. And you have a key. You're the leak,
aren't you?"
He said nothing. James leaned over to August. "You know, why don't we get Calretti on
the phone? He'd probably like to know one of his employees is talking with the cops."
"That's a good idea."
"No, wait, wait. Okay, I am. Calretti ordered me to get a job as a janitor here at
the station. He knew the police would be trying to tie him to the murder of Michael Ross,
so he planted me to feed him information. It wasn't that hard to get hired."
"Yeah," August said, "custodial staff is always hiring. How were you getting the
information about the detective and the witness?"
"Eavesdropping. It's a dying art, really. Nobody hardly knows how to do it the old-
fashioned way anymore. See, what you do is--"
"Shut up," James said. "Let's see Jensen."
"A janitor?" Jensen said in disbelief.
"Just regular, good ol' eavesdropping," James said.
"Any word from Chase again?"
"I found a repair place in Flagstaff, Max's Autoshop. They're sending a tow truck out
to pick up Chase and the girl. Provided the problem with the car is minimal, they should be
back on the road within a couple of hours. So it was just a janitor, hu?"
August laughed. "Yeah. Just a lonely little janitor."
"Unbelievable. Well, you guys did great work. Now we just wait for Chase to get here.
I'll keep you posted if I hear from him again."
"Great, Captain." And they left the room.
Max stood back from the engine of the Mustang. "Well, doesn't look like much," he said to
Chase, standing nearby.
"Nothing major?"
Max shook his head. "Doesn't look like it."
"How long do you think it'll take?"
He considered for a moment. "Well, I've got most of the parts right here in the shop.
I don't have the one, but there's another guy in town that does. I'll get on the phone and
see if he can get one over right away. All-in-all, I'd say about . . . oh, maybe two hours,
give or take ten, fifteen minutes."
"Can't make it quicker than that?"
"Well, I could push it if you really wanted, but it'd be a crappy job and you probably
wouldn't get very far. Where you going?"
"Los Angeles. And we're in a hurry."
"I'd definitely suggest the two hour wait. It'll take a lot longer, but it'll result
in a nice smooth ride between here and there without any problems. If you ask me, that's a
lot better than having to worry about breaking down in the middle of nowhere again."
"Okay. I trust you." He walked to the front of the garage, where Rachel was standing
with a bottle of water. She was wearing a pair of pants that Chase had got from the gas
station office. "It's gonna be awhile," he said. "About two hours."
"Think we can keep hidden for that long?"
He nodded, looking out at the street. "Shouldn't be a problem. Just need to stay
inside. Come on." He put a hand on her arm and walked her inside the office.
The car came to a stop before a large hanger, and Robert climbed out. Alex, Chris, and Eric
followed. A helicopter sat on the tarmac, being given a last-minute pre-flight check. A man
wearing jeans and a leather jacket was walking forward from the chopper to meet them. "You
must be the men Mister Calretti said was coming?"
"Yes," Robert said. He didn't offer to shake hands.
"Name's John. Chopper'll be ready shortly. Just a couple last pre-flight checkouts to
do really quick, then we'll be good to go."
"I assume Mister Calretti told you what we need your chopper for?"
"Yes, he explained. Do you know where we're going? I mean, you know where they are,
right?"
"Max's Autoshop. You know it?"
"I do. Not far. As soon as the checks are done, we'll load up the ammo and take to the
skies."
"How long?"
"Five, ten minutes. No more than ten."
"Make it no more than five."
John nodded.
"Captain," Chase said into the payphone, "we're just about done. Yeah, it only took about
two hours. Uh-hu. Well, we'll probably have to stay the night somewhere along the way. Don't
worry, I'll be careful. Right. I'll call you again when we stop for the night. Okay, bye."
He hung up.
"Well," Max said as Chase came back into the garage, "she's all fixed and ready to go.
If you want to come inside we can take care of the little issue of payment."
Chase took a card from his coat and handed it to him. "Here. Bill the city," he said,
then turned to get into the car, but stopped and look back. "And give yourself a nice tip."
Max smiled, staring at the card titled CITY OF LOS ANGELES - POLICE DEPARTMENT. Chase
climbed into the car and fired up the ignition. He sounded brand new. Rachel was already in
the passenger seat, having stocked up on some snacks and a few bottles of water she had
placed in a small ice chest Max had said she could take.
"You ready?"
"Let's get to L.A." she said.
Chase put the car in gear and pulled out of the garage, across the lot, and turned
onto the road. "Okay, I looked at the map. From here we go straight to Kingman. It's just
before the border to California. Then from Kingman it's a straight four, four-and-a-half
hour shot to Los Angeles. We made it this far, believe me, we'll make it that far."
He stopped at a red light. "You know, you'll have to think about what you want to do
after the trial."
"What do you mean?"
"You're testifying against a major crime player. You have to think over your options.
Do want to enter the Witness Relocation Program?"
"Oh. Yeah, I guess I haven't thought about it yet."
"Well, it'll probably be afternoon tomorrow before we reach L.A., so you'll have
enough time to think about. And you need to."
"I know," she said quietly, as if not wanting to.
Chase turned back, waiting for the light to change. He saw something up in the sky and
thought it was a bird at first, then realized it was actually a helicopter. He didn't pay
any attention to it until he noticed that it was growing in size, coming in their direction.
He still didn't give it much thought until he saw that it had something odd-shaped
protruding from one side. And as it drew closer, coming directly toward them, even angling
down as if to crash into them when it reached the intersection, he realized just what it was
sticking out from the side.
In the back compartment of the helicopter, Alex cut loose on the right side-mounted
machine gun. Bullets began to tear a line down the street across the intersection, and the
line was coming directly toward them. His light still red, Chase punched the accelerator and
spun the wheel, whipping the car to the left. Cross-traffic blared horns and lit up brakes
as the Mustang seemed to leap forward like it had been kicked.
"What is that?" Rachel asked as he drove.
"My guess, the hit goons."
"Where the hell did they get a helicopter?"
"You got me."
The Mustang newly repaired, it's speed climbed fast, and Chase was soon gaining on the
traffic up ahead. He gave a quick glance into all three mirrors, but saw no signs of the
chopper. "Where is it? Look and see where it is."
Rachel turned in her seat and looked out the rear windshield. "They're back there."
"This is gonna get ugly."
The helicopter dropped from the sky and gave chase, the machine gun ripping up
pavement as its line of fire tore after them. Chase steered through the thick traffic as
best he could, the pedal to the floor, yelling at the cars that couldn't get out of his way
fast enough.
Robert watched from the co-pilot's seat. "Get us lower, get us lower," he told John.
"I can't go too low, there's telephone cables in some places."
"Get us as low as you can."
John nodded. Looking ahead, he saw that the next few blocks were clear of cables, so
he dropped the chopper almost to roof-level and rocketed down the street. Cars blew their
horns, drivers staring in surprise as a helicopter suddenly zoomed over them with a blaring
machine gun.
"We need more room," Chase said, cutting left and right around slow-moving cars. "This
road's not big enough for this."
"The freeway," Rachel said as she saw an overpass up ahead. "Take the freeway."
Chase's only response was to gun the engine even more and dive across two lanes of
traffic and barrel up the on-ramp.
"He's taking the freeway," Robert said into his helmet mike. "Reload, reload." In the
back, Alex went hurried to reload the machine gun.
The Mustang came onto the freeway doing close to eighty-five and cut right in front
of a big rig hauling a large trailer. The angry trucker blew his air horn and screamed an
unheard obscenity at the crazy driver. Chase looked into the rearview mirror and saw only
the words 'Mack.'
The helicopter followed the path of the on-ramp as it reached the freeway. Robert
searched for the Mustang and pointed it out. "There. They're right there. Take us in."
The chopper raced forward, dropping down from the sky. The machine gun cut lose again.
Cars and trucks began swerving left and right as they heard and saw what was happening.
Some vehicles piled into each other, and soon, there were at least five or six major
accidents involving seven to eight cars each.
Rachel stared out the back at the carnage behind them. "Oh my God."
"These guy's don't quit for nothing," Chase commented, weaving around a dump truck.
"Get ahead of them, damn it," Robert yelled.
"I'm trying, I'm trying," John yelled back. "Oh Christ." He pulled back on the stick,
and the helicopter just barely cleared an overpass that seemed to pop up out of nowhere.
The chopper dived down once it was on the other side and resumed the chase.
By now, most of the traffic up ahead must have discovered what was going on, as the
cars began pulling away onto the shoulders of the road, getting clear of danger. It seemed
to make an aisle for the helicopter to follow, one that would take it right to the rear
end of the fleeing Mustang.
"They're closing in on us," Rachel said. "They're coming fast."
"Hang on," Chase said, then added under his breath, "Let's see just how good this
baby can manuever."
The line of automatic fire was almost to their tail when the Mustang suddenly whipped
across four lanes and down an off-ramp that none of the others had even seen. "Circle
around," Robert yelled, waving a finger around in the air, "circle around!"
The Mustang reached the end of the ramp and Chase spun the car left, making a tight
u-turn into the adjacent lane and racing back under the overpass. He weaved in and out of
the traffic as quickly and smoothly as he could, cut right onto another street, drove for
a short distance, then made another left into a large parking garage. By the time the
chopper had circled around to hover above the off-ramp, the car was out of sight.
The Mustang drove all the way to the opposite side of the first level before Chase
put it into a complete 180-degree turn and braked hard. The car idled quietly. Rachel
looked at him, brushing a strand of her from her face. "Excellent driving," she said.
"Thanks." He eased the car forward until he was halfway across the first floor. He
could hear the distant sound of a chopper, and soon it was before them, hovering slowly
down the street. They were looking. But they missed the Mustang. They were far enough back
to be concealed. The chopper stayed for a moment, then took back to the sky and disappeared.
ACT 4
"You're kidding me," Jensen said into the phone. James and August stood in his office.
"Chase and the girl were ambushed again."
"What?" James said.
"How could that be?"
Jensen turned back to the phone. "Where are you? Okay, call me when you get there."
He hung up.
"What did he say, Captain?" August asked.
"They're outside Flagstaff. He'll call again in the morning. They were attacked in
Flagstaff, only this time Calretti's goons where in a helicopter with a mounted machine
gun."
James laughed. "This guy's resourceful, hu?"
Jensen sat down in his chair, thinking. "How is the information still getting out?"
"You got me, Captain," August said. "We nailed the janitor before he could talk to
Calretti again."
"Another mole, maybe?" James suggested.
August shook his head. "He was the only who had access to the office during the day."
"What about the night janitor?"
"Possible," Jensen said, "but even then, I haven't written anything about this on
paper or computer. It's all been verbal exchanges." And then he looked up slowly, as if
something was occuring to him.
"Captain?" James asked.
Jensen grabbed a pad of paper and quickly scrimbled on it, then held it up for them
to read it. It simply said: bug? The two detectives looked at each other as if they were
asking the other why they hadn't thought of something so obvious. "You know, Captain,"
August said aloud as he wrote on the pad, "now that I think about it, maybe we will look
into the night janitor. You never know, hu?"
Jensen read what he had written: I'll get Cragmeyer - bug hunting equipment. "Yeah,
that's a good idea, August. You two get on it right away, and let me know if you turn up
anything on him."
The detectives left in a hurry, and a short time later, Cragmeyer was in the office,
quietly sweeping over the entire room with some special bug-detecting equipment. It was
only about five minutes until the needle on the readout screen peaked to the top of the
meter. He motioned Jensen and the others over and pointed to the picture frame hanging
above a cabinet.
August stepped around and carefully pulled the frame away from the wall with one
finger. Attached to the back of the frame was a small object, no bigger than a silver
dollar and just as thin, with a flashing red light. He gestured for Jensen to come over.
The captain took a quick look and shook his head. He grabbed the notepad and pen from the
desk and wrote on it: I've got a plan - play along. August nodded, and Jensen showed the
pad to James as Cragmeyer left. They huddled around the bug.
"August, James, I've got an idea. I think Chase and the girl keep getting ambushed
because they're in the same car. They're easy to spot."
"Right, Captain," James said.
"Here's my plan. We switch cars in the morning. When Chase calls to say they're
getting back on the road, I'll tell him to stop somewhere. We'll have a car waiting, and
him and the girl can switch. Then they'll take a different route back to Los Angeles. The
gunmen probably figure they'll stay on the same course, so they won't expect a car switch
and a route switch."
"No one will suspect it," August said with a smile.
"Good. I'll work on the details and fill you both in later."
"Sounds good, Captain," August said, and he and James left.
Chase was back on the road, heading West toward the California border. He drove with one eye
flicking to the rearview mirror nearly every minute. "Do you have any hobbies or anything?"
Rachel asked. "I mean, being a cop can't be the only thing you do."
"I guess you could say I'm something of an amateur artist."
"Really. With what?"
"Crayolas," he said, then looked at her. They both laughed. "No. I'm a medal artist. I
make medal sculptures."
"Now that's a great field of art," she said. "Have you sold anything?"
"A few pieces. There's a little art gallery in L.A. that features some of my work from
time to time. Haven't been able to do much with it lately, though."
"Lose interest?"
"No, just busy with a lot of other stuff. I'd like to do some more, though, but I just
haven't had the time to."
"I wanted to be an artist when I was little."
"Really? How come you didn't?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. I never thought I was any good, but my parents wanted me
to stick with it until something good came out of it. You know how demanding parents can be
sometimes."
"Yeah, I know about that."
"Are you close with your parents?"
"I guess," he said, then added quietly, "my dad died when I was just a little kid."
"Oh. I'm sorry, I had no--"
"It's okay. I was in a bank with him. He was stopping to cash a check when these two
guys came in to rob the place. My dad was a cop, and he tried to stop them. He shot both of
them, but the one died and the other got away. My dad got hit in the heart by the guy who
got away and died right there in front of me."
"Did they ever catch the other guy?"
Chase nodded solemnly. "This past November," he said, and looked at her. "I got him.
I finally closed the door on something that had been haunting me since I was just a kid."
"What about your mom?"
"I still see her occasionally. She lives in Texas. Haven't seen her recently, though.
Last time was a couple years ago. I had this really bad accident while on duty and I was in
a coma for a while. My partner managed to get ahold of her, and she was there when I came
out of it. What about your parents?"
"Both died a couple years ago," she said. "They were climbers. They loved climbing.
They were doing one in Utah. There was an accident involving another climbing team,
amateurs, no less, and both of them fell."
"Where you there when it happened?"
"No, thank God. I don't know what would have happened if I was. I almost went, but
decided at the last minute to stay. I said I'd go with them next time."
They drove in silence for a moment before she said, "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For doing this. For bringing me back. I doubt I would have made it if I had tried to
come back on my own."
"If you even tried to come back," he added with a wry glance.
She smiled. "Yeah, you're probably right. If it wasn't for you showing up just as
those goons did, I probably would have never come back. Just would have spent the rest of
my days living in New Mexico."
"Just hang in there," he said. "Another twenty-four hours and this will all be over."
"I sure hope so."
"It will be. Trust me."
"Rest of the place is clean, Captain," Cragmeyer said as Jensen left his office. "Only bug
was in your office."
"Okay. Thanks, Cragmeyer."
As the head of forensics left, Stacey Townson came over and said, "You wanted to see
me, Captain?"
"Yeah, Stacey. Detectives Brooks and Harris filled me on what was going on the other
night. I told them you weren't a mole."
She laughed. "Oh, that. I have to admit, though, my words on that tape did sound a bit
suspicious given the current circumstances."
"Yeah, they were. Fortunately, we found the source of the leak, so we've ruled
everyone else out as a suspect."
"You found it? Who was it?"
"A janitor planted a bug in my office while I was out."
"Tell me it's not that easy to bug a police station."
"Obviously it is. Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I'm talked with the payroll
commitee and, based on their trust for me and the fact that I've known you for some time,
they've agreed to increase you civilian aide pay. It's not a lot, mind you, but it should
be enough to help you get your feet back on the ground for awhile."
"Really? That's great, Captain. Thank you." She hugged him excitedly. "Thank you,
thank you."
Jensen smiled. "Don't mention it."
She thanked him again and then left. August was coming down the hall with two cops,
a male and a female. "Have a date tonight, Captain?" he asked amusingly.
"Be quiet, August," Jensen replied jokingly.
August laughed. "Captain, these two volunteered to be decoys for the switch tomorrow.
Detectives Jim Doherty and Detective Mary Swiff."
Jensen nodded, looking them up and down. Doherty was tall, with short blond hair and
a similar physical appearance to Chase. Swiff was slightly shorter, with brunette hair.
She didn't resemble Rachel Lewis as much as Doherty resembled Chase, but she would do just
fine. "Okay," Jensen said. "If you guys are up for it, I'll brief you in interrogation."
"What's wrong with your office, Captain?" Jim asked.
"Uh, we got a bug problem in there."
"Bug?" Swiff asked, almost cringing.
"Yeah," August said, looking at Jensen. "Big bug problem. What was it the guy said?
Oh, yeah. Cockroaches, I think. Big enough to bite your head off."
"We'll meet you in interrogation," Swiff said, and hightailed it down the hall with
her partner on her footsteps.
The two watched them going, laughing. "August, that was just a tad mean-spirited,
don't you think?"
"Oh, just a tad, Captain," he said, holding his thumb and index finger an inch apart.
"Just a tad."
Jensen came into the interrogation room moments later with August. Jim and Sarah were
already waiting, each with a cup of coffee. "Okay, guys," he said, "this is the plan. We'll
place the decoy car someplace on this side of the border early in the morning. Once Chase
and the girl arrives, they'll go inside for a few minutes, then you two will come out, get
into the decoy car, and take off. Calretti's men will follow. As soon as you're gone, Chase
and the girl can resume their trip back to Los Angeles."
"What about clothes?" Det. Swiff asked. "How are we to know what they're wearing?"
Jensen thought for a moment. "Switch with them."
"And Chase knows about this already?" Doherty said.
"No, not yet. He'll call me in the morning to say he's on his way. I'll tell him what
to do. Claretti won't know the location of the switch until tomorrow morning, and by then
you guys will already be in place. With a little luck, they'll fall for it and take off
after you two. Mind you, I don't like having to put my detectives in such a risk as this,
leading away a squad of hitmen, but it's extremely important that we do everything possible
to make sure Chase and the girl get back."
August said, "Let's hope it works, Captain."
"Trust me, August. It'll work. Let me see the map."
August handed it to him, and Jensen set it on the table, began flipping through the
pages. "I think we'll set up the switch here . . . "
As Chase opened the door to the hotel room, he said, "I think our chances of a good night's
rest will be pretty good."
They had finally reached Kingman, just East of the border. When he checked in, he
explained to the manager in private that he was a cop from Los Angeles transporting a murder
witness back to the city, and asked for a place of concealment to park the car for the night
so that the people who were following them wouldn't see it from the street. At first the
manager was reluctant, worried about the saftey of his other customers if gun-toting hitmen
arrived to try to kill a police detective and his witness. But Chase eventually convinced
him he had nothing to worry about, and the man showed him to a garage out back of the hotel,
used mostly for storage purposes. A little quick rearranging, and Chase was able to pull the
Mustang in.
He closed the door and turned the light on as they came into the room. "Think we could
get something to eat?" she asked, sitting down and taking her shoes off.
"There's a sandwhich place right next door."
She shook her head with a smile. "I'd rather have McDonalds."
"Junk food?"
"What, are you one of those health freaks?"
Chase held his head high. "And a proud one I am, too," he said, then laughed. "I'll
get you a BigMac."
"Great. Large fries and a large coke, too."
"But think of all the calories and grease."
"You're right," she said, and added with a grin, "Make that two large fries."
Chase just shot back the wry grin and said, "You know the drill. Two knocks, pause,
then three."
"I remember."
"Okay, I'll be right back. Lock it behind me." He left, and she locked the door.
It was later that evening when Rachel came out of the bathroom. Chase was sitting back on
the second bed, flipping through the television. Nothing was on. She sat on the edge of the
other bed. "I've been thinking."
"About what?"
"About after the trial. What I'm going to do."
Chase turned the television off. "What's your decision?"
She seemed to hesitate, then said, "I want relocation. I want the Witness Relocation
Program."
Chase nodded. "Okay."
"I mean, I've never been satisfied with my life. Sometimes I just look back at it and
say to myself, 'I wish I could have made different choices.' You know? And my parents and
my brother are no longer with me, so I won't be leaving behind people I care about."
"What about aunts and uncles? Cousins?"
She shook her head. "I don't have any."
"What about your car? You can't take it with you."
"Guess I'll just have to leave it. I'd hate to, but I think this is something I have
to do. I'd be willing to leave it behind in order to start my life over."
"Okay. I'll tell my Captain your decision tomorrow when we get back, and he'll start
filing the paperwork with the FBI."
"Thank you."
He smiled. "Better get to sleep," he said, standing and heading for the bathroom.
"Tomorrow's going to be a big day, on the road and in court."
The next morning, Robert was sitting in the passenger seat of the car, looking through a
pair of binoculars. The information his boss had passed to him a few hours earlier was
that the switch would occur in the small town of Needles, just West of the Arizona border.
The precise location was a small diner just off the main road.
"See them?" Alex asked, sitting behind the wheel.
Robert shook his head. "No." He lowered the binoculars and set them on his lap. In
the backseat, Chris and Eric were going through each magazine, filling them with ammunition
and putting them into their respective weapons. "Should be here soon, though," Robert said.
Sure enough, twenty minutes later, they saw the Mustang pull down the street. Robert
snatched the binoculars up and peered through them. The car turned into the lot of the
diner and parked. He saw Chase and the girl climb out and head inside.
"Get ready," Robert said. "I'd say they'll order to go."
Ten minutes later, they emerged from the diner, each carrying small carry-out bags.
If Robert had had a front view, he could have seen that the man he thought was Chase
McDonald was actually Jim Doherty, and the woman he thought was Rachel Lewis was actually
Mary Swiff. They passed the Mustang and climbed into the decoy, a small black car. The car
fired up and backed out. Chase McDonald was sitting at the counter inside the diner as he
watched the decoy car leave, and just seconds later, saw another car leave it's concealment
and follow. They bait had been taken.
"There go the hitmen," Chase said. Rachel sat next to him. "Let's wait about ten
minutes or so, then we'll leave."
It was more like thirty-five minutes later when Chase and Rachel left the diner. They
hurried back to the Mustang and climbed in, pulling back out onto the main road.
And as the car left, Robert stepped out from hiding and watched with a smile, shaking
his head. "Just as I thought," he said. "Decoy."
They were well into the Mojave Desert, halfway between Needles and Barstow, when Rachel
said, "Do you think it worked?"
"Only one way to tell."
"What's that?"
"Ask me when we get to L.A.," he said, then looked at her and smiled. She laughed.
On the road behind him, the small silver sports car went unnoticed. Robert was
grinning to himself as he ever so slowly gained on the Mustang. As he drove, he lifted his
MP5 and checked the magazine, then slapped it back into place.
"I was thinking last night," Chase said. "Since you can't take this magnificent car
with you, would you be interested in selling it?"
"I guess I'll have to. Know anyone who'd be interested?"
"I would."
"Really?"
"Yeah. My car had a little accident a couple of days ago. Nothing outrageous. Just
took a bazooka in the front end."
"A bazooka?"
Chase nodded. "It was just some young punk I arrested a month ago for armed robbery.
He must have been out looking for revenge or something. Got the car, but he didn't get me."
"Well, I'd love to go off knowing I've left this car in good hands."
He smiled. "I'll take care of it," he said, glancing at the car passing him on the
left--
And did a perfect double-take. "Watch out!"
Robert cut loose with a round of bullets as Chase hit the brakes. The bullets missed
the car completely as Robert found himself racing ahead.
"Who was that?" Rachel yelled.
Chase gritted his teeth in frustration. "It was one of Calretti's men. Damn. They
must have figured out our switch."
"Captain," August said, leaning into the office. "Doherty and Swiff just called in. Said
they're underway and they noticed the same car's been following them since they left the
diner."
Jensen smiled. "Good. Looks like our plan worked."
"Should James and I go pick up Calretti?"
Jensen nodded. "Yeah. Let's finally get the scumbag."
"With pleasure, Captain," August said, and left.
Jensen leaned back in his chair and said, "Smooth sailing from here on, Chase."
Chase barreled down the highway with Robert on his tail. He had managed to pull ahead, and
Robert was determined to regain position alongside them. "What are we gonna do?" Rachel
said.
"I don't know, I don't know."
Robert tried to pull around to the right, but Chase swerved over. He angled for the
left, but Chase blocked that plan, too. And so they went down the highway, Chase blocking
each attempt Robert made to get alongside them. He shot a left-to-right line of bullets
through the front windshield of the car, cracking it massively, then hit it with the rifle
until most of it fell out and slide off the hood. He stuck his arm out the window and
fired rapidly. Rachel ducked her head with a scream as the rear window exploded. Chase,
too, kept his head low while trying to maintain his speed.
Robert fired until the hammer began falling on an empty chamber. He went to reload
the weapon, only to discover that those morons Chris and Eric had forgotten to give him
more magazines. "Damn!" He threw the MP5 into the rear seat, then gripped the wheel and
stomped the accelerator until it met the floor.
Rachel looked behind them. "He's gaining."
Chase saw it in his mirror. "I see him."
Despite Chase's quick manuevering, Robert managed to eventually pull alongside them,
and Chase knew it would soon be over: one way or another. Robert yanked the wheel, slamming
into the Mustang. It nearly shoved them off the road, but Chase countermoved, whipping the
wheel back and meeting force with force. The two cars grinded into each other as they raced
down the highway. Chase looked up and quickly pulled away with a yelp. The oncoming truck
shot by blowing it's horn. The Mustang swerved off the road and fish-tailed as Chase worked
the wheel, but kept the car on all fours.
Robert meet them with full force as they got back onto the road. Chase turned into
him. He could hear the screeching of medal as they bounced into each other. For a brief
moment, he and Robert locked gazes, and they each saw in the other determination. Utter
and complete determination.
Acting quick, Chase pulled to the right. Before Robert could come after them, Chase
yanked the wheel left again and slammed back into Robert. The front end of the Mustang hit
the rear passenger side of the opposite car and almost spun it around in a police precision
spinout. Robert seemed to shoot straight across the road, swerving as he straightened out,
but never made it back to the road.
He clipped a medal guardrail and screamed as he sailed through the air, crashing
right through a billboard on the shoulder of the road in an explosion of dirt and wood.
Chase and Rachel turned back to look as they raced by. The car spun side-over-side at least
a dozen times before slamming down and bouncing wildly, rolling down a short embankment.
The Mustang blasted down the road. Chase looked at her. "You sure you want to come to
L.A. and testify?"
She smiled. "Nah, let's just go back to the cabin," she said, and they both laughed.
Less than four hours later, the trial of Vincent Calretti was underway. Rachel Lewis had
taken the stand, been sworn in, and was in the middle of her testimony. Calretti himself
sat beside his lawyer, looking confident and apparently already convinced he would not be
found guilty. Chase, August, and James sat in the front row of the audience, along with
Jensen.
"Miss Lewis," District Attorney Alison Hart said, walking around the table. "You
were present in Michael Ross's hotel room the night of his murder."
"Yes, ma'am, I was."
"What were you doing there?"
"Michael and I myself had been set up by a mutual friend for a blind date."
"Described the events that occured that night."
"Well, I arrived at the hotel and met him, and we went to have some drinks. We talked
for a short time, and then he received a message from a hotel employee that he was to
return an important call. I went with him up to his room and was in the bathroom when I
heard someone else enter. They started talking."
"What exactly did you hear?"
Rachel glanced at Vincent, as if unsure she should continue. "Don't be intimidated,
Miss Lewis. Please continue."
"I didn't hear everything that was said, but I could tell that they were arguing. Not
loudly, but quietly, like it was just a regular conversation. I heard Michael apologizing a
few times, and after a couple minutes, it sounded as if everything was going to be okay."
"And that's when you heard the gunshot."
She nodded. "Correct."
"And you heard the name of the person Michael Ross was talking with?"
"Yes."
"Is that person in this courtroom?"
"Yes, ma'am, he is."
"Would you point him out to us, please?"
Rachel seemed to hesistate, and then pointed at Vincent Calretti. He just starred
straight back, his face never changing expressions. But she thought she saw his eye flicker
ever so slight. Flicker with anger. "That man there," she said.
Alison looked toward the teletypist. "Let the record show that Miss Lewis has pointed
out Mister Vincent Calretti."
Rachel looked over at Chase, who smiled and discreetly gave her a thumbs-up.
At the end of the trail, Rachel was escorted out into the hall, where they were met with a
barrage of television news cameras and reporters shouting questions that drowned out others.
August and James did their best to hold them back as Chase walked Rachel down the hall. The
door in front of them opened, and Vincent Calretti was lead out by police, hands cuffed
behind his back. He saw Chase and smiled. "Detective," he said. "Good job. It's been a long
ride, hasn't it?"
Chase said nothing, and Vincent was taken away. "Detective McDonald?" They looked down
the next hall and saw a group of men in suits approaching. The man in the lead flashed his
credentials. "U.S. Marshal John Kruger. We're all ready to go."
Rachel looked at Chase. "Well, I guess this is it."
"Yeah. You did a great job in there."
"Thanks. It'll be good knowing I left this life on a high note. About the car, it's
your's." She gave him the keys. "For free."
"What?"
"After all you've done for me, it's the least I can do for you. Thank you, Chase."
She kissed him, rather unexpectedly, but it was more delicate that a typical farewell-
passionate kiss. She pulled back. "Thank you."
Kruger said, "Ma'am, we do have to go."
She looked at Chase for another moment, then started walking away with the marshals.
August came up behind Chase. "Well. There she goes," he said.
Just before they turned the far corner, Rachel stopped and looked back one last time
for a moment, and then she was gone. Forever.
"Yeah," Chase said. "There she goes."
| INDEX |
