by James Kent
‘Easy! It’s an old encryption. Ancient. I broke into it two or three years ago . . . everyone has. They really need to change it!’ he replied, nodding at Swann with a slight grin on his face.
‘I’ll be sure to let them know!’ said Swann, raising his eyes as he thought about what Gifford had said earlier . . . We’re good at covering our tracks! He laughed to himself, shaking his head at the stupidity of it, the lazy complacency that allowed the criminal underworld into their dirtiest little secrets. They never learn. Swann remembered a book he’d read years ago, Game of the Foxes, he was sure, by Ladislas Farago that detailed the same things happening during the espionage war of World War II, between the Allies on one side and Germany and Japan on the other. In the book, the author pointed out that the Germans and Japanese believed their own codes to be absolutely unbreakable, yet the German Enigma systems had been penetrated repeatedly by the British while the Japanese equivalent, known as Purple, had been cracked by the Americans as early as 1942. The incredible irony was that German intelligence, known as the Abwehr, got wind of the fact that the Japanese codes were being read by the Americans and subsequently informed their Japanese counterparts who refused to believe it because such a feat was supposedly impossible. Meanwhile, Japanese intelligence suspected that the British were reading the German Enigma codes and warned them of the fact in turn, but they too refused to believe it for the same reason. Therefore, neither of them changed their systems other than for routine upgrades. It seemed to Swann that American government and law enforcement agencies were guilty of the same complacency and paying the same price.
Then the waitress came over to their table again and asked if they would like a refill . . . or if Swann would like a refill. ‘Sure,’ said Swann. ‘And he might like one too,’ indicating Eddie, the so-called “Ferret”. He decided to cut the pathetic guy some slack, despite what he’d just been told by him. ‘And some French fries too,’ he added. The waitress scribbled on her pad, way more scribbling than the order required, like she was writing a novel or something. Must have a short-term memory problem, Swann thought, looking up at her. But Eddie looked grateful.
Then Swann pulled the table back some, to give Eddie more room. It looked weird anyway, like the waitress thought.
‘Thanks!’ he said to Swann.
‘Don’t mention it.’
‘What was so funny before?’ asked Eddie after the waitress disappeared again.
‘Nothing. Ok, so if you worked for him,’ said Swann, ‘why would you be helping someone find him? Assuming I’m that guy.’
‘Because he beat up and murdered my girlfriend in Arizona is why!’ he said, ‘We were based near Kingman there, but Silva had his guys take her for a drive to this little old ghost town called Chloride, like in the wild west, and did her in there. Stuck her in a barrel of oil.’
‘What’s that to me?’ asked Swann.
‘Well, if it wasn’t for her murder, I’d still be working for him in Kingman. But I’m here volunteering information on the most dangerous bastard in the state who every cop in the country suddenly has a hard-on for . . . he has his guys out looking for me now, but they’ll think I’ve gone east, not north, since I’m from New Mexico, Alamogordo to be precise. That’ll tie them up for a while, hopefully. They won’t suspect I’m still reasonably close. So, all that’s gotta be worth something. I mean, I’m taking a huge risk here telling you all this.’
‘That’s for damn sure! You’re taking your life into your own hands thinking you could follow me around without being made. Why did they kill her?’ Swann asked, now intrigued.
‘She was seen hanging out with cops! She was seen with a cop about a year ago, on two separate occasions,’ said Eddie looking into the distance, ‘and Diablo, I mean Silva, assumed the worst . . . just assumed she was a plant or something like that. So, she ended up in a barrel, pickled in old engine oil. After that I got scared and ran as soon as I could. It wasn’t safe for me anymore either because, she being my girlfriend, they probably thought we were both hanging out with cops ratting out on them. But we weren’t. That, and I was upset.’
‘I see his point,’ said Swann.
Eddie stared back at him, upset at his callous remark. He looked down at the table annoyed, annoyed with himself more than anything because he blamed himself for what happened.
‘So . . . What? Did she rat on him?’ asked Swann, ‘That would piss off any self-respecting asshole.’
‘No, I mean she was a bit crazy I guess, but she was no rat. I don’t know what she was doing with that cop though. I never did find out. Probably just messing about, like she used to do before she met me.’
Swann said nothing, just nodded his head slightly as he looked away, thinking.
‘What?’ asked Eddie.
‘Nothing. Carry on.’
‘She did what she liked,’ said Eddie, looking at Swann with a question in his eye, ‘and I couldn’t control her so she was a risk. Diablo doesn’t ‘do’ risk. He kills risk. So, after she was seen with the cop, he had his guys do her and I knew I’d be next, so I took off with all my files and most of my hard drives and shit, which is how I can help you. I’ve been on the run ever since.’
‘You want revenge and you think I’m the guy to help you get it,’ replied Swann.
‘Yeah. I guess. I figure we can help each other. And I admit, I would feel safer working for someone like you right now. But I already managed to kill one of Silva’s heavies, Buck Dolan, before jumping out the window. One down, nine to go!’ he said.
Swann was amazed and raised his eyebrows in curiosity. He couldn’t believe that this thin, shaky little snowflake had the balls to kill anything, let alone some headbanger twice his size. He looked at him with renewed respect. ‘Nine guys left. Good to know!’ replied Swann. Then he asked with a skeptical tone, ‘So how did you manage to kill one of them?’
‘I had a knife I’d stolen from the kitchen, hidden in my bag and when he was distracted I pulled it out and stuck it in his neck, quick as I could, into his jugular I presume. It was him or me, so I chose him. He bled out on my carpet,’ explained Eddie. ‘Made a bit of a mess . . . I copped a load of his blood, so I cleaned up as best I could after I got back to Kingman late at night; no one saw me as far as I know. Scariest thing I ever done! I was shaking like a damn leaf! Took me ages to calm down.’
‘Good job!’ said Swann in reply. ‘Not bad for someone who eats only lettuce leaves. So, where’s the knife now?’
‘Thanks. Eh? Lettuce? I ‘ain’t no vegan!’
‘Whatever. So, where’s the knife now?’
‘Still stuck in one of the tires probably. I slashed them all before taking off on my bike . . . broke the blade off on the last one. That’s harder to do than I thought,’ he said, ‘So anyway, I thought we could help each other.’
Swann nodded and smiled, amused. ‘Thanks, but I don’t need your help.’
‘Maybe not, but without my help, it would take you longer. And I know stuff . . . stuff you could use; I’ve got files and access to their databases too. I can hack into them just like I can hack into anybody else’s.’
‘We’ll see,’ said Swann. ‘Why should I believe all this shit?’ he asked.
‘Like I said before, I can prove it,’ he replied.
Swann didn’t say anything for a few seconds, then said, ‘Go ahead, prove it.’
‘I’ve got Silva’s old cell . . . the one he used to use a few years ago . . . He said he stopped using it because it had been compromised.’
‘It had,’ said Swann. ‘That’s why we were surprised when it reappeared out of the blue. It seemed odd that someone as careful as that asshole would make such a basic mistake.’ It was all starting to make sense, yet he still had some unanswered questions, things he couldn’t quite figure out.
‘That was me,’ said Eddie, ‘I knew the moment I turned it on and sent a message, it would raise a red flag for you guys. I made it look as if Silva was talking to someone inside the DPRK,
North Korea, which he is by the way, via this gangster he knows in Seoul . . . and naturally I’ve got all his contacts, so I’ve also been talking to the same dudes over there, messing with their heads. They think it’s always Silva, or one of his go-betweens, so they’ve probably given up on him by now for wasting their time. No one in underworld crime will trust him now which means he’s dead meat. Eventually at least. Someone will come for him and once he realises that, he’ll panic. Anyway, I’ve probably wrecked his entire plan and he has no idea why it’s gone south!’ he said with some pride. Swann nodded in appreciation and was starting to realise this little twerp wasn’t so dumb after all.
‘Someone IS coming for him!’ added Swann.
‘Yeah,’ said Eddie, ‘he just doesn’t know it yet. Anyway, he was planning some kind of massive cyber-attack with those guys; he wanted to hit anything and everything . . . from Wall Street to the Government. I told him it was madness and that I didn’t want anything to do with it because it wouldn’t end well for us. But that sealed my fate right there and then. He hates “negativity”, hates people saying his ideas are shit,’ he finished.
‘We know he was planning something like that,’ said Swann. ‘So, what makes you think Silva is still there, hanging out near Kingman, after you took off and left him high and dry?’ he asked. ‘Why wouldn’t he have packed up and moved on to the next place by now?’
‘Because he also knows I’m wanted by the Feds for assault, robbery, drugs, computer crimes . . . you name it, so I’m hardly likely to go spilling the beans on his own outfit. He probably thinks he’s safe staying put because I would have to keep my own head down and fade into the background until his boys hunt me down. That’s the bit I’m worried about. They’ll be coming for me.’
‘Bit of a risk to take for both of you, if you ask me,’ replied Swann.
‘Yeah, but I doubt he’s moved. And even if he has, it’s just a matter of time before I can find him again by hacking his own computers. I know what to look for. Sure, he’s got this “Mordor” guy working for him now, also goes by the name “Cricket”, not his real name, I don’t think. He’s pretty good, but he’s not THAT good! And besides, I know his signature. It’s kind of like a fingerprint.’
‘”Cricket”, “Mordor”. Jeez, more weird names! See what I mean? What’s with all the animals and insects? “Ferret”, “Cricket”! What the hell’s the matter with you people? So ok, where did you go after you got out of Dodge?’ asked Swann.
Eddie grinned, realizing he had probably just scored a small victory convincing this Fed, or cop, or whatever he was. ‘I took a round-about route, first to Needles where I sent my first fake message on Silva’s old cell, plus a few emails using his account, then up to here, then I carried on up to Caliente, north of Las Vegas where I have some of my stuff set up, my computer and hard drives. Then I came back here. I didn’t want to hang about in one place for too long, incase Silva’s boys were onto me - which they could be every time I use his old phone which they’ll be monitoring like the cops do - so I stuck to small outback towns where I could easily tell if someone turned up looking for me . . . I went back and forth, using the old phone all the time, hoping to get your guys’ interest. I knew it would eventually.’
‘It did!’ said Swann. ‘But you said you’re staying at the Haven motel, whereas the calls were coming from the other place across the street and further down. Explain that.’ said Swann.
‘Well obviously I didn’t want to broadcast in the same place I was staying at. That would be like shitting in your own nest. I figured if the Feds picked it up, they’d bust my door down and I’d be in cuffs by now. Or someone like you would turn up and whack me already. I needed to be in control of the timing. So, instead, I would drive over to the other motel, The Desert Ranch, park in their carpark and send the messages from there. Then I’d wait, back at the other place, and see who turned up to check it out. That’s when I saw your F150 pull up with the right license plates. Bingo!’
Swann nodded; his arms folded across his chest as he reevaluated the little punk across the table.
Eddie started tapping his fingers on the tabletop again. He kept looking at the clock on the wall, then turning around to look out the window. But there was nothing to see.
‘I don’t know what to call you,’ he said, turning back to Swann. ‘What does the “S” stand for, in the email?’
Swann looked at him. ‘That’s privileged information which you haven’t earned. And besides, you don’t need to know,’ he said.
‘Fair enough,’ replied Eddie. ‘But I need to get going,’ he said suddenly. ‘Silva’s guys want my ass and I get nervous hanging around for too long in a public place. I’m dead if I’m not careful. I’m probably dead anyway, whatever happens.’
‘That’s your problem,’ replied Swann. ‘So, you work for me now. But one wrong move and I’ll hand you in myself!’
‘Fair enough,’ he said again. ‘Tell me what you want me to do.’
‘You can start by drawing a map of where this place near Kingman is, and the floor plan and layout of their ranch, plus a list of all the vehicles and weapons they have . . . everything you can remember like any vehicle registrations and cell phone numbers if you remember them.’
‘No sweat!’ said Eddie, ‘I’ll do it now if there’s anything to write on.’
‘One other thing,’ added Swann, ‘Who are the main guys? Tell me about them.’
Eddie told him about the main heavies, other than the now deceased Buck Dolan. ‘Pedro Torres and Tyler Randall are the two main ones now,’ he said. ‘There’s also Clyde Decker, but I reckon Randall would have taken over from the guy I killed. Tyler Randall is just known as “Randall”. He’s pretty good; does martial arts or something and was in the military a long time ago so he knows how to handle himself. Got kicked out on some kind of assault or violence charge with a deadly weapon. Something like that. He’s the least bad of the entire crew because I don’t think he’s actually killed anyone. Pedro is far more dangerous and unpredictable . . . a bit mad in some ways, doesn’t seem to care about anything. But he certainly knows how to fight too; he’s pretty good with a knife! So is Decker by the way. They’re both real good knife fighters, both always carrying blades on their belts, besides their Glocks. But Pedro is also big, maybe not quite as big as you, but close; and very scary when wound up. Drives around in a brown Jeep Cherokee kitted out with all the latest gizmos . . .’
He was on a roll, so Swann just let him continue without interrupting.
‘The other guys just follow orders, but they’re all armed and nasty pieces of shit. All murderers, rapists, child molesters and other things. There’s Sanchez who hung on from the gang down in Mexico apparently. He’s a nobody really, but a moody bastard. Wears a rosary around his neck at all times which I always found amusing, considering his evil past. He turned up out of the blue on a bus or something. Just pitched up and asked for a job. That’s what I’ve heard anyways. The boss . . . I mean Silva, “Diablo”,’ he said, motioning quotation marks with his fingers, ‘remembered him from back then and took him on. Other than that, I don’t know nuthin’ about him. One of the nastiest is Rudolf Knox who’s a well-known serial killer. He’s been around for a while, but he comes and goes. No one likes him or trusts him. Fortunately, I haven’t had much to do with him. But I’d stare clear of him because he’s pure evil!’
‘I’ll bear it in mind,’ replied Swann. ‘Good work,’ he added. Then he said, ‘I know that Torres, Dolan and Decker were thick with Silva way back when he ran his prostitution smuggling ring down south of the border. They must have known this Sanchez guy from then too. Anyway, so that’s one down at least.’
Eddie nodded.
Picking up on that theme, Swann asked, ‘What about women, girlfriends whatever? Anyone like that I should worry about if things get ugly?’
‘Not really,’ replied Eddie. ‘I doubt there’re any girls there at the moment. They’d be too busy looking for me. I
mean sure, girls come and go all the time, cheap girls mostly, but they don’t hang around for long. I think the boss . . . I mean Silva, creeps them out all the time, not to mention some of the guys themselves. Silva’s sick in the head and they pick up on it. I know my girlfriend sure did! He has this way of looking at them . . . a cold, unblinking stare. It’s pretty unnerving with those small black eyes of his boring right into you. He’s quite scary when he does that. It’s like looking into the face of a demon. So yeah, she was scared of him, didn’t trust him near her. And knowing his reputation, I wouldn’t put it past him to try kidnapping the girls he liked. He’d see an opportunity and would sell any girl to his old buddies who used to run prostitution rings. The guys would probably help too, seeing the money in it, especially Knox . . . they’d smack them around and then threaten them once they got bored with them. Something like that. I heard it had happened a few times and I worried it would happen to Angela. So in some ways, I guess it’s good she’s . . .’ He didn’t finish the sentence. He looked away as he thought about her, and what he was about to say.
‘Charming pack of assholes!’ said Swann, shaking his head slowly. He gave Eddie a minute, letting him dwell on his girlfriend. Then Swann asked, ‘What about cooks? Who cooks and cleans?
‘No one cooks and cleans really. Everyone just looks after their own shit. There used to be an actual cook for a short time, soon after Silva bought that place, but she didn’t hang around for the same reasons girlfriends didn’t.’
‘Ok. Anything else I should know about?’ asked Swann.
‘Not really. Oh yeah, there’s a big safe there. In the floor underneath the coffee table, under an ugly bear skin rug. Keeps all his rolls of cash in it. Some ammo. Lots of other things . . . like he’s got a bunch of notebooks in there with all the dirty secrets we found out through hacks, like about big bankers, politicians and other shiny-assed dudes. And all the favors they owe Silva for whatever; all the things they’ve done to score from him. Plans to use them if he ever got caught again. Says those notebooks are guaranteed to keep him outta jail cos he’ll have something on someone, even judges. Some real shit in there, man! Unbelievable. Got his passports in there too. Anyway, could be worth checking out. But no one knows the combination to it cos he don’t trust no one.’