“That’s what he asked me to do.”
Lindgren signaled for the check. “Why would you need me for backup just to check Dan’s emails? What else is involved? What’s in those messages?”
Wolf dropped a twenty on the table and the two abandoned the booth. “We stumbled on some interesting info while we were in Moscow. Dan said it was important. That’s why we sent it stateside.”
The two walked outside to Wolf’s car. Lindgren said, “Did it have anything to do with his death?”
Wolf hesitated. “Huh, at first I didn’t think so. Now I’m not so sure. The jury’s still out on that as a motive.”
“Might be murder made to look like a robbery.”
“I’ve thought about that these last few days.”
“Okay, I said I’d help you, Wolfman. I will. But if you’re not telling me everything I need to know it won’t go well with you.”
“What? You’ll scratch me off your Christmas list?”
“For starters I’ll force feed you lumps of coal and turn Mrs. Claus loose on you.”
“Now you’ve got my attention.”
Wolf got in his car. “Ride with me, Keith. No reason to take two cars.”
“Okay, but I’ll drive. I know his place. It’s on Riptide Court, a little dead end off of Ocean Shore Drive. Nice neighborhood. Some foliage for cover. We’ll park on the street to avoid attracting attention.”
“Good idea, Gunny. Lead on.”
“It’s what I usually do with officers…even retired ones.”
Chapter 25
A stone’s throw from the beach, Colter’s condo sat at the end of a short street of paving blocks. The street’s three-story townhouses each wore white vinyl clapboard and high, peaked roofs. A pair of garage doors and a quaint, arched garden gate fronted each unit’s concrete pad, which was wide enough to park two cars. Having donned latex gloves, Wolf went through the garden gate and let himself in the front door using the keys Colter had given him. Lindgren followed, closing the door behind them.
Inside, Wolf disarmed a silent, blinking alarm by tapping a security code Colter had given him. Pointing a penlight at railings, he took the stairs to the second floor, Lindgren on his heels.
Wolf turned right at the top of the landing, where Colter had kept an office. Lindgren drew the drapes and shut the door. Finding a desk light, Wolf flicked it on and stood back, staring at a family of orphaned cables. No computer.
“What the hell?”
“Don’t look at me,” said Lindgren. “This is the first time I’ve been here since the housewarming.”
“We’re too late.”
“Obviously. I suggest we vacate the premises pronto.”
Wolf glanced around the room. “Maybe Colter was in the habit of disconnecting his computer when he wasn’t home.”
Lindgren scoffed. “Then why would he ask you to check on it? No computer, no emails.”
“It was just a thought,” said Wolf. “Okay, we’re out of here.”
Wolf killed the light and the two crept downstairs, retracing their steps to the entry where Wolf keyed the alarm and locked the front door. He and Lindgren returned to Wolf’s parked car.
“What’s next?” asked Lindgren.
“This is getting crazy,” said Wolf, staring across the street at Colter’s townhouse. “First me, now this.”
“What does ‘first me, now this’ mean?”
Facing Lindgren, Wolf said, “When I checked my computer, the email we sent from Kazakhstan wasn’t there. Had never arrived.”
“That happens sometimes.”
“Sure. It’s possible. But I have my suspicions someone made themselves at home before I got back.” Wolf explained finding clues of an entry through his patio door. “And now, with Colter’s computer missing, it adds up.”
Lindgren said, “Adds up to what? And who is ‘they’? Why would they take his computer? Why not just trash the email? Or scrub the hard disc? Doesn’t make sense to arouse suspicion by walking away with his hardware.”
“Exactly,” said Wolf. “Could be whoever did this got here just before we did. Or they didn’t give a damn about showing their hand. Arrogant.”
Lindgren said, “Probably not a burglar. Nothing else was disturbed. Didn’t see any drawers open. Flat-screen TV in the living room was still there. Definitely after whatever was on that computer.”
“Well, that was a wasted trip,” sighed Wolf.
“Maybe not. It helps you focus on the fact somebody didn’t want either of you to download those emails you sent. What was so damn important that they would do that? What were you guys into?”
Wolf said, “That’s the problem, Gunny. Colter used some technique to combine pictures he took with other pictures of pages in a book we were given in Russia.”
Lindgren said, “You’re talking about steganography.”
“If you say so.”
“Yeah. We used that process when I was doing contract work. It’s an old idea updated to work with image files. Colter would have been familiar with it. Why not go back to the original source?”
“It doesn’t exist. We burned the book after taking photos of the pages.”
“Well, that’s a helluva fix, Wolfman. What now?”
About to answer, Wolf looked past Lindgren’s shaggy profile. “We have company, Keith.”
Chapter 26
An unmarked sedan rolled toward them, its headlights dark. At the mouth of Riptide Court, the car stopped, blocking the street. The driver and his passenger got out of the car and headed for Colter’s townhouse. Despite the distance, Wolf could tell the pair was armed with handguns.
“Those don’t look like cops,” whispered Lindgren.
“Hard to tell,” said Wolf.
“Trust me, Wolfman. Those are not the local cops.”
“Government people? Contractors?”
“Could be. Write this down.” Lindgren read the plate to Wolf, who scribbled the numerals and letters.
Wolf tapped Lindgren on the shoulder. “Let’s get the hell out of here before they figure out they’re not the only ones making a house call tonight.”
“Your first good idea tonight. But I have a better one.”
Lindgren started the engine and left the car in park, its headlights off. He turned off the dome light. With his eyes on the other car, he gestured at the glove compartment. “Check, I should have an icepick in there.”
Wolf rummaged among the paperwork and tools. “Got it. Do I want to ask why you carry this?”
Lindgren waved him off, held out his hand without looking at Wolf. “No, you do not want to ask me why I carry this.”
“Seriously, Gunny.”
“Comes in handy.”
“What are you thinking?”
“Wait here.” Heaving himself from the front seat, Lindgren scanned the street in both directions and then jogged across the pavement to the parked car. As Wolf watched, the retired Marine punched front and back tires on the driver’s side. His sabotage accomplished, Lindgren hurried back to Wolf’s car and got in. Without speaking, he drove to the end of the block, did a U-turn, and parked in shadows fifty yards behind the wounded vehicle.
Wolf stared at the listing car. “What were you thinking?”
Lindgren didn’t answer. His beard glowing in the light from his cellphone, he tapped in a number and held the phone to his ear. Finger to his lips to silence Wolf, he said, “Hey, it’s Gunny Lindgren. Yeah, I’m good. You got any cars cruising on Shore Drive? Good. Look, I got something for you. I’m sitting on Ocean Shore Drive, parked behind a suspicious-looking car. Was driving by Riptide Court and saw two guys up to no good. No, didn’t recognize them. But I think they’re making an unauthorized house call.”
Shaking his head and smiling, Wolf covered his eyes.
“Hey, no problem,” said Lindgren. “Just doing my citizen thing.”
Wolf looked ahead to Colter’s townhouse and nudged Lindgren’s shoulder. He nodded at figures slipping t
hrough the shadows.
“Okay, thanks,” said Lindgren, his eyes following Wolf’s gaze. “I don’t think these guys are going anywhere soon. See ya.”
Lindgren pocketed the phone and grinned. “This will be fun.”
Back in their car, the two intruders started the engine and drove from the curb, both left tires wobbling. Stopping mid-block, the driver got out to inspect his front left wheel. A hurried conference with his passenger followed. The second man got out, came around the back and discovered the flattened rear tire. The pair paced, the driver on his phone. Back in the car, the two drove ahead, limping slowly on the rims. A patrol car rounded the corner at the end of the block, its lights off.
Imagining the driver’s surprise, Lindgren chuckled, infecting Wolf as well. Both men began laughing. The police car hit its lights and parked diagonally across the street. Braking to a stop, the strangers were stymied by flat tires and an unyielding cop, gun in hand.
“Didn’t I tell you this would be fun?” Lindgren roared, punching Wolf’s arm. “Look at these idiots. Trying to act nonchalant as if nothing was wrong.”
“You’re sick. Don’t ever go over to the dark side.”
Lindgren chuckled. “I already have.”
Another patrol car roared past them, its lights flashing. Blocking any retreat, the second cop parked behind the hobbled car, got out, and mirrored his partner’s stance.
Told to exit the car with hands held high, two cornered men in dark tracksuits stood, arms raised, the driver glaring at the sagging tires. Ordered to assume the stance, the men were frisked and cuffed. Both were placed in the backseat of separate squad cars. Standing in the middle of Ocean Shore Drive, the two cops talked. One cop kept an eye on the manacled prisoners while the other searched the getaway car.
The squads’ pulsing strobe lights finally awakened the neighborhood. Robed residents congregated on front steps or balconies. The more timid watched the night’s drama from upper-story windows.
A third patrol car arrived, driven by the shift commander. A barrel-chested sergeant, made even larger by his vest, got out of his car. “What do we have here?” he drawled.
“Couple of stalkers sitting in a car, Sarge.” Holding up two confiscated handguns, the patrolman added, “We checked their ride. Not your ordinary perps.”
The sergeant focused his flashlight on the rear bumper. “Huh, Maryland. You call in the plates?
“Already done.”
“Tow truck?”
“On the way.”
“Good.” The sergeant aimed his light at a morose suspect slumped in the closest squad’s backseat, said, “What’s their story?”
“They don’t seem to have one.”
He walked to the next car and focused his blinding beam at the second glum suspect. He frowned at the squinting man. “ID? Names?”
“They’re not talking, Sarge.”
“Just out house hunting,” volunteered the second cop.
“Okay,” sighed their superior. “Get ’em out of here.”
The squads went down Ocean Shore and on to Shore Drive, their unwilling passengers locked in handcuffs and silence. The sergeant went back to his car to check in. When the tow truck arrived, he and the driver talked. Trailing the impounded car, the patrol supervisor abandoned the scene to the watching Wolf and Lindgren.
The two returned to the restaurant’s deserted lot. Lindgren parked and got out. “Had my old ticker moving pretty fast back there,” he said. “Just like being back in the game. Whoa, I don’t need to be doing that at my age.”
“Keep this for future reference,” said Wolf, handing Lindgren a copy of the license plate number. “Run it by your cop friends when you have time.” At the wheel of his idling car, he said, “Suddenly, everything gets a little sticky. I’ll do some checking of my own when I get back. Thanks for going with me, Gunny. Sorry to get you involved in this…whatever this is.”
“You gotta admit watching that bust was a helluva lot of fun tonight.”
Wolf nodded. “Man, that was something.”
“My lips are sealed,” said Lindgren. “I’ll hear the details from the cop I called. He’ll want to know how I happened to be driving by when this went down.”
“Keep me out of it if you can.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem on the first pass. I like living here so I try not to lie to John Law if I don’t have to. My advice to you—”
“Which I didn’t ask for,” interrupted Wolf.
“Affirmative…which the gentleman did not ask for…is not to get in too deep, Wolfman. Depending who tonight’s miscreants are, this could get real ugly, real quick. I have a sixth sense about this kinda thing. When the pucker factor gets high it’s time to look for a friendly landing zone.”
“I’ll figure this out,” promised Wolf. “Don’t tell Carol I put you in harm’s way tonight.”
“She’ll pester me,” said Lindgren. “Pillow talk is not my strong suit. What can I tell you? She has a nose for this kind of thing.”
They shook hands. Promising to stay in touch, Wolf got back on the road.
Chapter 27
As promised, two days later, Lindgren called Wolf on his cellphone. “Hey, it’s Keith. You make it back without any problems?”
“Came through rain outside Richmond. Roads were slick. Traffic was light until I got closer to the District.”
“That’s to be expected. We’re getting the tail end of that two-day front.”
“I don’t suppose you called to chat about the weather, Gunny.”
“No, I did not. We’ve got trouble, Wolfman.”
“I figured as much. Give it to me straight.”
Taking a deep breath, Lindgren said, “I’ve got good news and bad news. Two questions: Are you sitting down? And which do you want to hear first?”
Troubled by the call, Wolf said, “I’m sitting. The good news?”
“Our cops ran the plates. Car was stolen in Baltimore a week ago.”
“No surprise there. What were those guys doing?”
“That’s the bad news.”
“Just tell me Colter wasn’t involved.”
A pause. “I’d have to qualify that.”
“Okay. I’ll bite. Qualify it. Is the glass half-full?”
“Hard to tell at this point. Last chance to tell me what you guys were doing in Russia.”
Irritated, Wolf sighed. “The launch in Kazakhstan, remember?”
“I remember you telling me that. Was that all there was to it?”
“Skip to the bad news, Gunny.”
“Our boys were Russian.”
“Define Russian.”
“Russian as in gangster. Russian as in mafiya. Vory.”
“Are we talking about our own home-grown dirt bags or black hats from the motherland?”
“We’re looking at our own crooked family tree. Made in the USA.”
Intrigued, Wolf said, “All that from these two guys?”
“Didn’t hear it from them. Of the two, one is a naturalized citizen biting the hand that welcomed him, the other is a boyevik—a warrior.”
“Like a street soldier in the mafia.”
“Correct. Turns out this boyevik is an illegal. He’s got a rap sheet and it makes me wonder how come he hasn’t been sent home before this.”
Wolf thought out loud. “Must have a good lawyer or been on the run until now.”
“You should be a cop, Wolfman. You are correct. My guess is that he’s going to be a guest of the feds for a while. I’d be happy to see him shipped back home but that may take some time. The other guy was spawned here, unfortunately. They have a slick New York lawyer working their case as of yesterday afternoon. The guy’s expensive.”
“New York, huh? Interesting. Brighton Beach again, I suppose. Where are these bad boys now?”
“Sitting in jail. I gotta tell you, Wolfman, the case against them is good but not waterproof. They have the weapons charge, of course. Maybe the immigration charge for the on
e, but this mob lawyer is working overtime to spring both. They claim they bought the car from a dealer. Didn’t know it was stolen.”
“Who’s going to buy that story? And why were they snooping around Colter’s place?”
“That’s where you come in.”
“You didn’t mention me, did you?”
Indignation in his voice, Lindgren roared back, “Not a word! You know me better than that. No one puts us together at the scene, before or after. These punks are the ones in the spotlight, not us.”
“So…the Russians were likely after what we were looking for.”
“Not ‘we,’ you.”
“Roger that. Me.”
“Those emails you were looking for must be hot. If you didn’t find them, and the Russians didn’t find them, then whoever took the computer must have stopped by Colter’s place right after he died or just before.”
Wolf thought about the card sewn in his jacket but remained silent.
Lindgren cleared his throat. “Another thing. According to my sources, these guys do lay their ugly heads at Brighton Beach in Brooklyn.”
“That figures. Little Odessa,” said Wolf. “Why am I not surprised? Are you talking to local sources for this information or your friends at Langley? You seem to know a lot for Santa.”
“A little bit here, a little bit there. Just because I’m retired doesn’t mean I spend my days playing pinochle or checkers, you know.”
“That figures. Anyway, I haven’t made much headway at my end.”
“Can’t you recreate the emails you need?”
“Not a chance,” said Wolf. “If I could get my hand on Colter’s camera I could download his photos. But where is his camera? Where is his luggage? The embassy people said they were going to send it back with him.”
Lindgren said, “What about his family? What are the funeral plans? If you could get to them, they might let you look at his camera.”
“I was told they would let me know the arrangements after his family was contacted. Frankly, I don’t know their whereabouts. Can’t even recall where his wife was from.”
“Try someone who knew him from his days with the teams.”
Wolf's Vendetta Page 10