by Dave Daren
Kurzak made a strangled sound and hung up without another word. I shrugged. I knew we would stir up a hornet’s nest when we filed. That was the point. Kurzak was the least of our potential problems.
The phone rang again, and this time Sofia transferred the call quickly.
“Did Kurzak call to apologize for his ungentlemanly behavior?” I asked hopefully.
“Regretfully, no,” Sofia sighed. “It’s a Special Agent Smart from the FBI.”
“Oh,” I said, admittedly surprised. I picked up the line and said, “Vincent Creed.”
“Mr. Creed, this is Special Agent Tabitha Smart with the FBI,” came the no-nonsense reply. The voice was definitely a woman’s, but I wasn’t able to read much else from it.
“And how may I help the FBI today?” I asked.
“We received a copy of the complaint you filed today,” she said. “We’d like to discuss it with you.”
“We being who?” I probed.
“The Organized Crime Group,” she replied. “You were expecting a different department?”
“No,” I admitted. I grinned as well. Barely a minute into the call, and I’d already gotten under her skin.
“You made some interesting accusations,” she continued. “We’re interested in everything you may know about this particular yakuza.”
“If you’ve read the complaint, then you know everything,” I replied.
“You have evidence to support this,” she stated.
“We have evidence,” I evaded.
“Mr. Creed,” she sighed. “I understand you’re a lawyer, and as such, it’s in your nature to avoid a straight answer whenever possible. However, I do think that we could work together here. We could help your client save her company, and you could help us track down a notorious killer.”
“The company is our only concern right now,” I replied as the urge to dodge and duck kicked into full gear.
“That’s fine,” she assured me. “Let’s just agree that our goals coincide at the moment. Will you at least agree to that?”
“I don’t really have a sense of your goals,” I said, “but for argument’s sake, let’s say I agree. What is it you want exactly?”
“Let’s start with a meeting,” she suggested.
“I can be there in an hour,” I declared. I had no idea why I had said that since a meeting at the federal building was not something I really wanted.
“An hour,” Agent Smart almost stammered. I’d managed to catch her off guard again and I realized I enjoyed that.
“Unless you need to confer with someone first,” I hinted. The suggestion that an FBI agent wasn’t the one running the show was the kind of thing that drove agents crazy.
“No,” she snapped. “One hour will be fine.”
Agent Smart disconnected before I even had a chance to say goodbye. I stepped into Sofia’s office, and she gave me her raised eyebrow look.
“I’m meeting with the FBI in an hour,” I said.
“What are you going to tell them?” Sofia asked.
“That depends on what they share with me,” I replied. “If they offer something useful, then I’ll do the same.”
“Are you sure you want to play that game with the FBI?” she remarked. “They’re big and they’re patient. They can make you regret messing with them years later.”
“I know,” I said as I thought about how long the FBI had devoted to some of its more notorious cases. There was Bonnie and Clyde, the Osage Hill murders, the Brinks robbery, and the D.B. Cooper case, which began in 1971 and was still an active open case. “I promise not to make them too angry.”
“Good, because I don’t want to train another handsome attorney to do my bidding,” Sofia replied.
It was my turn to do the eye roll as I gave her a quick wave. The drive to the FBI offices was fairly painless, and I even managed to find a decent parking space. My rear bumper stuck over the back line a bit, but I figured I’d be good as long as one of those Smart Cars parked behind me.
Special Agent Smart had a guest pass waiting for me at the security desk, and a fresh-faced young agent took me to the seventeenth floor. Another receptionist made me wait in an uncomfortable plastic chair for nearly fifteen minutes. Several agents hurried by, but none stopped or showed any interest in me. I was about to ask the receptionist if there was coke machine nearby when a tall, striking beauty stepped into the lobby.
“Mr. Creed,” she stated in that familiar voice. She was nearly as tall as I was, with a svelte shape that gave her height a decidedly feminine appeal. Her pale blonde hair was cut in a bob that framed the soft curves of her cheeks. Her eyes were hazel, and the color shifted with the light.
“That’s me,” I agreed.
“Come with me,” she ordered. I followed her past a maze of desks, all filled with harried-looking agents. Most were staring at their computer screens, but a few were pouring over reams of paper. Not one bothered to look up as we swept by.
Agent Smart led me to a small, windowless room. It wasn’t as unpleasant as the typical interrogation room at the local jail, but it didn’t make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside either.
“Sorry about the room,” she said as she took a seat. “We’ve got suits in from D.C. so all the conference rooms are taken.”
“Big meeting?” I asked.
“Who knows,” she shrugged. “They do this every so often. We’ll get a memo in a few days detailing the new priorities and we’ll all spend the next two months working on whatever those priorities are. And then everything will settle down and we’ll go back to what we were doing before.”
“Ah,” I mused. I had to give her credit. She played trustworthy very well. “And will organized crime be a priority?”
“It always is,” she replied.
“So no one will be leaving my client out to dry,” I added.
“No one will leave your client out to dry, Mr. Creed,” she stated coolly. “This particular yakuza has been under investigation for some time. We’d like to bring that investigation to a close and we’re hoping you can help us do that.”
“I’m not sure what you want me to share,” I said thoughtfully. “Of course, there’s a great deal that’s covered by attorney client privilege.”
“Privilege,” she nearly snapped. She paused for a moment, and I saw her shoulders tense. She let out a small breath and eased her shoulders back. “There must be something you can share.”
“If,” I started, “and that’s a big if, we agree to share material with you, what do we get in return?”
“The knowledge that you’ve helped your country,” Agent Smart replied with a straight face. “And stopped a vicious crime lord.”
“I’m as patriotic as the next American,” I sighed. “But I need to know that my client will be okay. I won’t sacrifice her for your convenience.”
“You like her,” Agent Smart said as she cocked her head to one side. Her eyes narrowed, and I felt like a bug under a microscope.
“Yes,” replied honestly, “I like her. I like many of my clients.”
“Maybe just not as well as you like Miss Bernardi,” Agent Smart pointed out.
“Maybe,” I said with a shrug. “But that’s beside the point. I would make the same request for any client.”
“All right,” Agent Smart replied. “Let’s say I believe you. Can you give me a general idea of what you have?”
“I can tie the yakuza to shipments made to the US involving ArDex ships,” I replied.
“That might be illegal but it doesn’t mean the yakuza have control of the company,” she observed.
“I have information about the various members of the board,” I admitted.
“And that information ties them to the yakuza?” she asked.
“There are ties,” I replied blandly.
“What if I offered information that the FBI has in its possession?” she suggested. “Would you be willing to reciprocate?”
“It would depend on the information,”
I said carefully. I didn’t want to commit to something that proved to be useless later on.
“Fair enough,” she replied. “Let me give you a teaser then. We can supply you with organizational charts for this particular yakuza.”
“That could be helpful,” I admitted. I wondered if the name Tucker Watts would appear on any of those charts.
“It’s a simple deal,” Agent Smart pointed out. “Tit for tat.”
“I should confer with my client first,” I replied.
“You didn’t talk to your client?” she asked, genuinely surprised.
“I wanted to hear your offer,” I explained. I suspected my ears had turned red, and I felt like I was back in front of my first grade teacher. I was always on the short list of suspects when something went wrong in the classroom, and my teacher, Mrs. Grundy, could make me feel guilty with just a look from her steel-gray eyes.
“Well, you have my number,” Agent Smart finally said. “Call me after you talk to your client and we’ll see what we can do for you.”
She stood up then and I followed suit. We walked past the maze one more time and then we were back in the elevator lobby. She shook my hand, glanced at her watch, and returned to the inner sanctum without another word.
I called Anna as soon as I stepped out of the federal building. It might have been simple paranoia, but I didn’t want anyone to listen in on our conversation.
“Vince,” she said when she picked up. “Where are you?”
“At the federal building downtown,” I replied. “We have an offer.”
“An offer?” she asked. I could hear the confusion in her voice.
“The FBI has seen a copy of our complaint, and they’re interested,” I explained.
“Interested in what?” she demanded.
“Our case,” I said. “Well, the evidence our case is built on. They want us to share what we have with them. Apparently, they’ve been investigation this Mizuchi and his yakuza for a long time.”
“And they’re going to take over the case?” she asked.
“No, not exactly,” I replied. “They would bring a criminal suit. But they want to know what evidence we have. In return, they’re offering to share some of the information they have. For one thing, they have organization charts.”
“Seriously,” she said after a pause. “There are org charts for a gang?”
“Yes, there are,” I assured her. “What I’d be interested to see is if Tucker Watts or any of his cronies at ArDex show up on any of those org charts.”
“That would really help us,” she admitted. “What do you think? Will they give us anything useful?”
“They might,” I replied. “They won’t share everything because they don’t want to tip their hand before they close in, but there might be enough to tie Watts to the yakuza.”
“And how will we explain where that information comes from?” she asked.
“I’ll need some assurances from Agent Smart,” I replied. It was the same question I had been pondering since Agent Smart had made the offer.
“If there’s a chance it will help clear out Watts and his board, then I think we have to do it,” Anna sighed.
“I think so, too,” I agreed. “I’ll call and let her know.”
“Is there any other news?” she asked.
“Kurzak is on the warpath after receiving his copy of the complaint,” I replied. “He’s already threatened to file a motion to dismiss and a defamation suit. He may try to call you, and either convince you to drop the suit or threaten to hurt you in some way if you don’t.”
“I’ll ignore him,” she decided. “I don’t feel like dealing with him today any way.”
“Stay alert,” I warned her. “Now that we’ve filed, they may try something more drastic.”
“I know,” she replied somberly. “I already scared the neighbor this morning when I caught him on the lawn. He was just trying to clean up a gift from his dog but I waved a kitchen knife at him until I realized who it was. At least Heath was amused.”
“I’ll check in later,” I assured her. “And remember, don’t talk to strangers.”
Anna laughed and ended the call. I quickly dialed Agent Smart’s number.
“Mr. Creed,” she said coolly.
“Agent Smart,” I replied. “Let me ask you this, will someone at the FBI be able to testify as to the accuracy of your charts and any other information you provide should it be necessary at trial?”
“You certainly sound like a lawyer,” Agent Smart noted. “But to answer your question, if this lawsuit of yours actually makes it into a courtroom, we may be able to provide a witness.”
“May be able to?” I prompted.
“Arrangements could be made,” she said noncommittally.
“That’s the best you can do?” I asked.
“For now,” she agreed. “Of course, that may change as our own case progresses.”
“Ah, so you’re close,” I thought aloud. “You just need to make sure that our action doesn’t screw up your case.”
“It serves both our needs,” Agent Smart sighed. “Look, we can help you out. We just need to be sure that our own prosecution isn’t compromised.”
Agent Smart’s phone call made sense now. The FBI was ready to make their own move against the Mizuchi, and we’d just wandered into the middle of it with Anna’s case. I wondered how much they had on ArDex already.
“Let’s meet tomorrow,” I suggested.
“I can do two o’clock,” Agent Smart replied quickly. “We should have a conference room available by then.”
“I’ll be there,” I said.
I was standing next to the Caddy by now and a guy in a Dodge Ram with monster tires was waiting impatiently for me to move. I tried calling Sofia, but she didn’t pick up. The Ram honked, and I gave him a quick wave, and maybe a middle finger. I slid into the driver’s seat and eased out of my parking spot.
Traffic was light on the way back to Van Nuys. A few impatient drivers passed me, but the day was perfect, I was caught up on my work, and I sort of had a deal with the FBI. A cruise in the Caddy seemed like just the thing.
My moment of R & R didn’t last long. I pulled into the parking lot to find three patrol cars, an ambulance, and the crowd from the burrito place milling about. One of the cops approached the car, and I rolled down the window.
“What’s happened, officer?” I asked. I pictured an attempted robbery at the restaurant, or maybe an argument between a couple of the patrons.
“You’ll have to park somewhere else,” was all the cop said as he eyed the size of the Caddy.
“I work upstairs,” I replied. “I’m just wondering…”
“Are you the lawyer?” the cop interrupted.
“I’m Vincent Creed,” I agreed.
“We’ll need to talk to you,” the cop stated. He eyed the car again, and he looked as if he wanted to ask about it.
“It’s a loaner,” I supplied. “Look, let me just park down there by the dumpster and then I’ll answer your questions.”
The cop stepped back to judge the size of the car, then glanced at the various emergency vehicles that occupied most of the parking lot.
“If you can squeeze through, go ahead and park it,” he finally said.
I managed to maneuver around two of the patrol cars and pulled into my usual spot. The cop had followed me and was standing next to the dumpster when I emerged from the car.
“What’s happened?” I repeated.
“Someone broke into your office,” the cop replied. “Your assistant was injured.”
I ran towards the ambulance and nearly took out the busboys as I careened to a halt near the rear doors. Sofia was seated on the back step of the ambulance while the female EMT checked her pulse.
“Sofia!” I exclaimed as I tried to dodge around another cop.
“Vince!” Sofia cried out as she caught sight of me. “Thank goodness you’re back.”
“What happened?” I asked as I slipped
past the cop’s outstretched arm. She had dried blood on her forehead and nasty bruises along her left arm.
“Two men came into the office,” she said. “They grabbed me and threw me against the wall before I even had a chance to scream. I tried to fight them off, but they were tough, and they knew what they were doing.”
“Fortunately, your downstairs neighbor got suspicious,” the cop who had tried to stop me added.
I glanced around and spotted the waitress talking to a third cop. She jabbed at the air emphatically and two of the patrons standing nearby nodded in agreement with whatever she said.
“Muriel,” Sofia said and pointed towards the waitress, “saw the men come upstairs but she knew you were out. When they didn’t come back downstairs, she sent Carl and Lenny,” here Sofia pointed towards the two patrons, “upstairs to check. Carl landed a few punches, and Lenny called 9-1-1. I don’t think I would have made it if they hadn’t come upstairs.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered as I folded her into my arms.
“I saw some bad shit when I served,” she said quietly, “but I always told myself I knew how to handle it. These guys were good, Vince. They weren’t just some street thugs.”
“Mr. Creed,” the cop interrupted. “Do you know anyone who would want to attack your office?”
“No,” I lied. “But then, we are a law firm. We’ve had our share of angry opponents.”
“What about unhappy clients?” the cop suggested.
“I can’t think of any,” I replied. “Mostly we just handle small cases. Nothing that anybody would try to kill over.”
“You’re the lawyer from the Fullerton case,” the cop suddenly said. “I thought I recognized you.”
“Lauren Fullerton was a client,” I admitted.
“That was a pretty big case,” the cop continued. “Are you sure the Gatos Negros aren’t looking for a little retribution?”
“I guess they could be,” I conceded, though I was also certain that Detective Bosko would have given me a heads up if the Gatos Negros were back.
The cop seemed satisfied with that theory, and he left us in order to share his insights with his fellow officers. The EMT poked at Sofia’s head, and Sofia gave her a scowl in return.