Rebels and Thieves

by Russell Williams

  “Listen, you’re either with us,” Raven said. “Or you’re against us.”

  Malone didn’t like her tone. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You can either cooperate with me, Sergeant. Or I’ll have my boss call your boss.”

  “That’s not going to be necessary.”

  “I’ll say you’re withholding information that may help solve this case.”

  Malone took a moment to process this. He knew Raven was going to do whatever it took to get to the bottom of things, even if it meant dishing out a few hard blows along the way. “Look, I’ve worked hard on this case, day in and day out. And I’m going to see it through.”

  “No, you’re not, Sergeant. No all by yourself. That’s not how it’s going to happen.”

  “I’ll bring all new leads to your attention. You’ll just have to trust me. That’s all.”

  Raven flashed him an irritated glance. “That’s not good enough.”

  Malone felt a stab of worry. He didn’t want Raven to investigate the two prescription drug secondary wholesalers. “I’m running late. I’ve got to go. I’ll be in touch.”

  “That’s it, Sergeant. I’ve had enough. I’m going to make that call.”

  Raven slipped her cell phone off her waist and moved to the back of his unmarked police car. Leaning against the trunk, she gave Malone a hard look. Her green eyes were cold, filled with firm resolve, conveying she was no stranger to battling people in the trenches. Malone knew she was as tough as they come, someone who couldn’t be intimidated. Even though he still wanted to handle the case by himself, he realized he had to work with her.

  “I have a better idea,” Malone said. “Let’s put our heads together.”

  “That sounds reasonable,” Raven said, clipping the cell phone back onto her waist. “Tell me everything you know.”

  “Kemp is working with two prescription drug secondary wholesalers.”

  Raven gave him a hard look. “Give me their names.”

  “The first one is Bridge Tower.”

  “The FBI picked up the corporation’s president this morning. Right now, he’s being interrogated by our office. The death toll is rising. So far, ten people are now dead from taking the cholesterol lowering medication. We believe he played a role in lacing it with cyanide.”

  “Kemp is using this to his advantage. He’s making a fortune in the stock market.”

  “We already know about that, Sergeant.”

  Malone was impressed. Raven seemed to have all the bases covered, which meant that she knew a lot more about the case than she was letting on. “So, you already know Kemp is shorting Razor Edge Laboratories’ stock?”

  “That’s right, Sergeant. He’s collaborated with a lot of entities to pull that off.”

  “The second prescription drug wholesaler is, Martin Peek. And the CEO is Tom Maze.”

  Raven’s voice grew serious. “We’ve got to act fast, Sergeant.”

  “I know the shortest route there.” Malone knew Kemp was going to strike again. Once another prescription drug had been poisoned, Kemp intended to short that corporation’s stock. For every dime that stock dropped in the stock market, he stood to rake in millions.

  Raven pointed her finger. “I’m just parked over there, about three rows over.”

  “Forget about it. We’re wasting time. Get in.”

  “All right, Sergeant.” Raven slid into the passenger seat. “Let’s do it.”

  Malone jumped behind the wheel, cranked the engine, and pealed out of the parking lot. He turned onto I-95, flipped on the sirens and grille lights, and raced past several cars. Sitting in the passenger seat, seeming to be unfazed by the fact that they were pushing ninety-five miles per hour, Raven punched a few numbers on her cell phone. Barking orders into the phone, she gave her location, mentioned the secondary wholesaler’s name, and said to run Tom Maze’s name through the NCIS database.

  Chapter 60

  Malone pulled the unmarked police car into Martin Peek. It was a large rectangular building, with red bricks and a low-pitched green metal roof. Behind the business was a warehouse, about fifty-feet long, with several loading bays. Several tractor-trailers were parked in a row, all with their back swing doors open. It was a beehive of activity, with factory workers driving forklifts into the big trucks and unloading freight. Malone and Raven walked to the building, opened the glass door, and went inside. Sitting behind a reception desk was a heavyset woman with sandy hair, a plump face, and little brown eyes. She was wearing a plaid top and khaki pants.

  “I’m Detective Sergeant Malone,” he said, flashing his gold badge. “And this is Special Agent Raven, FBI.”

  “I’m Lucy.” She stood up. “Lucy Cain, the office manager.”

  “Go tell Tom Maze he has company.”

  “Perhaps there’s something I can help you with.”

  Malone shook his head. He didn’t want to get into it with her. “No, I’m afraid not.”

  “Well, at least tell me what this is in reference to.”

  “This isn’t a social call, if that’s what you want to know.”

  “All right, Sergeant. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

  The receptionist opened the door behind her and slipped into the interior of the building. The waiting room was small, with six plastic chairs, three along the back wall and three along the front wall. In the center of the room was a brown table, covered with brochures of various types of prescription drugs. The room was lit by a single white bulb, and some of the blue paint was chipping, cracking, and flaking off the dingy walls. The air was heavy, filled with thick cigarette smoke.

  “I just talked to him,” the receptionist said, coming back into the room.

  “That’s great,” Malone said. “Show us the way.”

  The receptionist raised her hand. “First, he wants me to ask you a few questions.”

  Malone felt his temper rising. He wasn’t in the mood for a song and dance. “That’s not going to work for us. We’re pressed for time.”

  “He won’t allow me to bring you to his office, not until I let him know what’s going on.”

  “That’s not a problem. We’ll take it from here.”

  Malone shouldered past the office manager, almost knocking her over. He made his way down a long corridor, followed by Raven. At the end of the hallway, he saw a man in his early thirties, sitting behind a cluttered desk. He was short and stocky, with thinning brown hair, light blue eyes, and thick glasses worn low on his nose. Malone and Raven went into the room, looked around, and stopped in front of the suspect.

  “I’m Detective Sergeant Malone. This is Special Agent Raven, FBI.”

  “I’m Tom,” he said. He cleared his throat. “Tom Maze.”

  “We know who you are,” Malone said. “We have a lot to talk about.”

  “I’m not feeling well.”

  Malone could tell he was nervous. It was obvious the guy wasn’t thrilled about seeing them. “We’d like to ask you a few questions.”

  Maze tensed. “I want to help you, Sergeant. But I’m late for a doctor’s appointment.”

  “You’re going to miss it.” Malone noticed that Maze’s white button-down shirt was soaked with sweat. It was cool in the office, about seventy degrees, but he looked like he’d just finished running a marathon. He watched him squirm in his leather chair, his dark, beady eyes darting around the room.

  “What’s this about?” Maze sucked in a ragged breath. “I mean, I have a right to know.”

  “It’s about your business dealings with Black Capital Investments.”

  Maze threw up his hands. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Malone braced himself. He knew the guy had done something he felt really bad about. “Knock off the crap, pal. We know you’re involved with them.”

  “It was only one time, I swear.”

  “That’s why we’re here. Tell us about it.”

  Maze ran his fingers through his thinning brown ha
ir. He opened his top desk drawer, grabbed a prescription bottle of medication, and withdrew two white pills. Picking up a coffee mug from his desk, he popped the medication into his mouth and took a few swallows. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the backs of his hands. “I suffer from severe bouts of anxiety,” he said, taking a deep breath. “The Valium helps to calm me down.”

  “That’s too bad,” Malone said. “I’m sure stress doesn’t make it better, either.”

  “My shrink says I need to take it.”

  Malone studied him for a moment. He sensed the guy was in over his head. “Someone poisoned the prescription drug supply chain.”

  Maze looked terrified. “I don’t know anything about that, I swear.”

  “You’ve heard about the ten deaths, about the cyanide poisonings?”

  “We don’t distribute any cholesterol lowering medication.”

  Malone grew nervous. He knew the guy’s business distributed a lot of widely uses medications. “What’s your biggest selling prescription drug?”

  Maze’s face glistened with sweat. “I’m not sure. I’d have to look it up on the computer.”

  “Knock off the crap, will you?”

  “I never wanted to hurt anyone, I promise. You’ve got to believe me.”

  Maze grabbed the bottle of prescription medication again, opened the lid, and withdrew two more white pills. Taking a deep breath, he popped them into his mouth. Before he could pick up the coffee mug, Malone snatched it from the desk and slammed it against the wall. He grabbed a pen from his top pocket, yanked the suspect’s head back, and shoved it deep into his mouth. Gagging, Maze leaned forward and spit the pills onto the desk.

  “You’ve got a guilty conscious,” Malone said. “It’s time to come clean.”

  “I invested money with Black Capital Investments.” Maze’s eyes filled with tears. He paused for a moment, obviously trying to pull himself together. “Not only did they offer me a great return on my money, but they also offered me complimentary trips on Stillwater Cruises. Over time, I racked up huge gambling debts.”

  “That’s how Kemp gets control over people, isn’t it?”

  “That’s right, Sergeant. He and his Russian associates did something terrible to me.”

  Malone didn’t like it one bit. “What did they do?”

  “They took my son, Tommy. He’s only ten. They kidnapped him two weeks ago.”

  “That’s too bad. I’m really sorry to hear that.”

  “I had to let them tamper with one of our prescription drugs.”

  Malone felt a sudden sense of terror. More people were going to die from taking medication that was supposed to help them. “What’s the name of it?”

  “They brought in cases of Lurodrone. It’s a popular drug used to treat arthritis.”

  “You screwed up, big time.” Malone moved to the window and looked at the warehouse. It was relatively easy to get a wholesaler’s license to distribute prescription drugs across the country. Most people believed that the prescription drugs they purchased from drugstores came directly from the manufacturer. This happened about ninety percent of the time. The other ten percent of the prescription drug market was extremely complex. This is known as the secondary market, and it’s where most investigators believed that illegal activity occurred.

  “I’ve got huge gambling debts. Plus they’ve got my son.”

  “That’s not an excuse.”

  Maze’s voice shook. “It was the only way to save my son’s life.”

  Malone was frustrated. It was time to give him the hard, cold facts. “I have bad news for you. Your son is already dead.”

  “No, he’s not, Sergeant. They’re going to release him any day now.”

  “The Russian Mafia kills the people it kidnaps all the time.”

  Tears shimmered in Maze’s eyes. “Oh, don’t tell me that. I feel sick to my stomach.”

  “Tell us more about the counterfeited drugs.”

  “They duplicated the bottles, pills, labels, and lot numbers.”

  Malone felt the blood draining from his face. He knew all the pills had been laced with cyanide. “Who did you sell them to?”

  “Iron Core Distributors, a large regional wholesaler.”

  “They played you like a fiddle.” Malone yanked him to his feet, read him his rights, and handcuffed his hands behind his back. “You’re going to pay for this.”

  “You’re going to work with the State Attorney’s office on my behalf, aren’t you?”

  Malone was confused. “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re going to say I did everything in my power to cooperate with you, right?”

  “No, I can’t do that. You should have contacted us earlier.”

  Malone and Raven led him down the long corridor, into the waiting room, and exited through the glass door. Outside, twenty unmarked police cars raced into the parking lot, ten to the right side of the front door and ten to the left side of the front door. Here comes the Cavalry. As if that wasn’t enough manpower, a procession of marked and unmarked police cruisers raced into the parking lot and came to a screeching halt. Within seconds, dozens of FBI agents, narcotic officers, and uniformed cops were swarming around them—all with serious looks on their faces

  Chapter 61

  They found Kathy James, the Assistant State Attorney, in her office. She called a judge, gave her Maze’s sworn statement, and got a signed warrant for Roger Kemp’s arrest. Now, at half past three in the afternoon, Malone and Raven pulled into Black Capital Investments. There was an assortment of marked and unmarked police cars parked there, both in front and behind the building. Federal agents, detectives, and police officers stood in the parking lot—some talking on their radios, others talking to each other. Malone got out of his unmarked police cruiser, nodded at his fellow officers, and popped the trunk. Grabbing two Kevlar vests, he slipped into one and handed the other one to Raven. Malone was anxious to make an arrest. Finally, after a lot of hard work, it was time to bring Kemp to justice.

  “I’ve waited a long time for this,” Malone said. “Let’s go bring him in.”

  “We’re going to do this by the book,” Raven said. “No exceptions.”

  “Is there any other way?”

  “Kemp must be taken alive.”

  Malone felt his gut tighten. Although he was sworn to uphold the law, a part of him wanted to get even with Kemp for everyone he’d done—sleeping with his wife, playing a role in killing cops, and committing terrorist attacks. “Well, that all depends on him, doesn’t it?”

  “No, we have a part to play in it, too.”

  “If he doesn’t want to go down in a hail of bullets, he has to cooperate with us.”

  Anger flashed in Raven’s eyes. “He’s not acting alone. He’s involved with Basov, too.”

  Malone could see the writing on the wall. He didn’t’ want Kemp to turn states evidence and disappearing into a witness protection program. “Let’s take it one step at a time.”

  “With Kemp’s help, we may be able to bring down Basov as well.”

  “No special deals for him. Not after what he’s done to so many innocent people.”

  Malone and Raven weaved through the crowd of law enforcement officers, opened the double glass doors, and walked into Black Capital Investments. Several business people were standing inside the lobby, huddled together, all with solemn looks on their faces. They walked past them, got into the glass elevator, and took it to the tenth floor. On high alert, they headed down a short corridor, into the main trading floor. Everyone inside the room was conducting business as usual, oblivious to the overwhelming amount of manpower outside the building. Engrossed in charts, graphs, and other financial data on their LCD computer screens, they sat behind their desks, studying trend lines and looking for good investment opportunities. Several employees rushed around the room, going from one colleague’s desk to another—all discussing stocks, bonds, options, and exchange traded funds. Making their way through t
he crowd, they walked into Kemp’s large office and stood in front of his mahogany desk.

  “It’s nice to see you again, Sergeant,” Kemp said. “Please make yourself at home.”

  “Black Capital Investments is finished,” Malone said.

  Kemp gave him a crooked smile. “You can’t stop threatening me, can you?”

  “We have a warrant for your arrest.”

  “This doesn’t have anything to do with your hot wife, does it?”

  “Leave her out of this.” Malone gritted his teeth. It took everything he had not to lose control of himself. He wanted to beat the hell out of him.

  “You got the video I sent you, didn’t you?”

  Malone felt hot anger surging through him. “Keep your mouth shut.”

  “I’m going to pay her a visit soon, right after this investigation blows over.”

  Malone grabbed Kemp by his shirt collar, yanked him out of the leather chair, and threw him against the wall. Using the back of his hand, he smacked him across the face several times. The hard blows split open his bottom lip. Blood oozed out of his mouth, dripping onto his white button-down shirt. Malone grabbed a handkerchief out of his blue blazer’s front pocket and threw it in his face.

  “Clean yourself up,” Malone said. “You look like crap.”

  Kemp wagged a finger. “You’re going to lose the game, Sergeant.”

  “This is a sick joke to you, isn’t it?”

  “No, it’s just part of a lager plan, that’s all.”

  Malone had to calm himself down, or his anger was going to get the best of him. He didn’t want to wind up in jail for beating the guy to a bloody pulp. “You’re under arrest. Turn around. And put your hands behind your head.”

  “I have a better idea, Sergeant. Why don’t you make me?”

  More than happy to take him up on the offer, Malone removed his handcuffs. Just as he was about to handcuff him, he felt his heart drop in his chest. He heard the familiar click, the sound of someone cocking the hammer back on a gun. Spinning around, he stared a barrel-chested man, with a V-shaped torso, a narrow waist, and big, muscular arms. The man was pointing a revolver at the back of Raven’s head. Malone suspected he was a foot soldier in the Russian Mafia. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kemp draw a nine millimeter Berretta from the small of his back. Before he could react, Kemp clubbed him over the head with it. Malone felt pain radiating down his face and into his jaws. He stumbled toward Raven, trying to save her life, but he collapsed to his knees. Kemp clubbed him over the head again, this time harder. Malone saw a blinding flash of white light, and then darkness.