The Promise: An Elvis Cole and Joe Pike Novel

by Robert Crais

  We roared forward, braked hard, and stopped outside a nursery across the street to peer through the entrance. Inside, we could see a rental office with a glass front and a small parking area, but that was about all. A chain-link fence crowned by more razor wire barred the public from the RVs and sheds. An automated gate in the fence let customers with key cards drive to their units. The parking lot was empty except for a shiny blue pickup and a golf cart beside the office. Amy would have had a key card. She and her Volvo had disappeared into a maze of all-weather sheds and plastic-wrapped motor homes. Charles could be inside. The man in the sport coat might be with him. The place could be crawling with lunatic terrorists, but we saw nothing but wall.

  “Tell Pike where we are. I’ll try to find her.”

  I slid from the Rover, jogged across the street, and walked past the office to the gate. I was hoping to see Amy’s car, but didn’t.

  “Excuse me! You can’t go in there!”

  A beefy woman with a belt bulge and surly eyes stood in the office door. She pointed at a sign on the fence.

  “Tenants only.”

  I gave her a disarming smile and turned away. Mr. Friendly.

  “Just looking. Sorry.”

  The woman went back into the office. A CCTV camera sprouted from the roof, giving her a view of the parking area. Another camera covered the gate. Safety Plus had cameras everywhere, and the cameras would feed to a monitor in the office.

  I walked over and went in.

  The woman was watching a movie at her desk behind the counter. Boxes, bubble wrap, padlocks, and packing supplies filled shelves, available for purchase. A sign on the counter said FRIENDLY SERVICE—REASONABLE PRICES.

  “I’m moving, and I need to store some furniture. Could I take a look around?”

  The CCTV monitor sat on her desk, but she had pushed it aside to watch the movie on her laptop. I couldn’t see the screen, which meant I couldn’t see Amy or Amy’s unit.

  She pointed at a stack of brochures.

  “Prices are in the brochure. Help yourself.”

  I took a brochure.

  “I need a pretty big space, but I can’t say how big is big enough. I should take a look, so I’ll get an idea if my stuff will fit.”

  She waved toward the brochure without looking up.

  “Tells you the sizes.”

  I unfolded the brochure and pretended to look.

  “I’d rather see the units. So I can visualize. How about a quick tour?”

  She paused her movie as if I had asked for a kidney.

  “Ronnie gets here at two. I can’t leave the desk.”

  “Oh, sure, I understand. No worries. I can take a peek by myself.”

  “Against the rules. Liability.”

  She un-paused her movie, and resumed watching. I heard gunfire and screeching tires.

  I pointed at the security monitor.

  “How about this? Could I take a quick peek at the video feed? So I can see what the inside looks like.”

  “Two. Ronnie will take you around.”

  She turned up the movie’s volume.

  “What happened to friendly service?”

  “Two.”

  “What if I told you this was a matter of national security?”

  She paused the movie again and picked up her phone.

  “I’d tell you to leave, or I’m calling the cops.”

  “The woman who just drove in is storing explosives on your premises. Which is her unit?”

  She punched 9-1-1.

  “I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter. The cops are coming.”

  I was fighting the urge to pistol-whip her when the automated gate opened and Amy’s Volvo nosed to the street. Amy was behind the wheel and appeared to be alone. I left the office as she turned, and ran to the street.

  Joe and his Jeep were outside the nursery when I reached the entrance. The Rover screamed through a tight turn, and Jon shouted.

  “Did you find it?”

  “No. Stay with her. Go. I’ll find it.”

  Jon powered away, and I ran to Pike.

  “It’s here. This is as far from her life as she could get. It has to be here.”

  I studied the walled fortress across the street. 24 HR SECURE—100+ UNITS. And an eight-cubic-foot box of plastic explosives could be in any of them.

  Pike said, “How will we find it?”

  “Magic.”

  I took out my phone, and called Scott James.

  46

  Scott James

  SCOTT SAT IN AN EMPTY CUBICLE, watching the detectives as he decided what to do. The cubicle’s data terminal and phone were missing. None of the detectives wanted a cubicle without a terminal, so Stiles put Scott in the empty. Now he needed a terminal.

  The room was busy with working detectives. Stiles moved back and forth between the conference room and the squad area. Each time she came out, she looked at him, and twice she walked over to ask how he was doing. Carter was in the conference room when Scott arrived, but now he was in the commander’s office with Mantz, a lieutenant from the Intelligence Section, and the deputy chief who ran the Counter-Terrorism and Special Operations Bureau.

  Three workstations in the squad room appeared to be unused. The surrounding workstations were occupied, but Scott had little choice. Stiles was back on the phone in the conference room, so he went to the workstation farthest away.

  The department’s data system required his name, badge number, and password, after which the system would record his every keystroke for later review. This threat of oversight was to discourage the sale of information to lawyers and private eyes. If later questioned, Scott told himself he could honestly say he was running down a possible connection with the Echo Park house.

  Scott slouched low behind the partition, typed in Colinski’s name, and entered the search request. He checked to make sure Stiles was still on the phone, looked back at the terminal, and saw the man in the sport coat.

  Scott’s chest burned with a rush of adrenaline.

  Royal Colinski was the man in the sport coat. Younger, not as lined, longer hair, but Colinski was the man in the sport coat.

  Scott glanced up, and the burn grew stronger. He looked at the faces of the detectives around him, and Stiles, who was thirty feet away, all of them trying to identify and find the unknown suspect he now knew was Royal Colinski.

  Thanks to Cole.

  Scott stared at Colinski’s face, and cursed himself for agreeing not to tell. If he gave the word, Colinski’s picture and warrant would pop up in every radio car and roll call in the city, and ten thousand cops would be on the search.

  Scott took out his phone to call Cole.

  “Hey.”

  Scott startled, and found the gray-haired detective in the next cubicle peering across the partition.

  The detective said, “Deets is on his way.”

  “Sorry?”

  “You’re at his desk. Just letting you know.”

  Scott set about clearing the terminal.

  “Sorry. I hope he won’t mind.”

  “Nah, it’s fine. I’m just letting you know. When he gets here, he’ll need it.”

  “Sure. Thanks. I won’t be much longer.”

  Scott punched in the search again, and quickly skimmed Colinski’s record. The file led off with Colinski’s identifying information, which was followed by a lengthy criminal record. Scott was surprised that Colinski’s most recent arrest had occurred sixteen years earlier, and that no warrants were outstanding against him. His prior history showed two stints in prison and multiple felony and misdemeanor arrests, most involving theft, armed robbery, and violent hijack.

  Scott glanced up, and froze when Stiles emerged from the conference room. He got ready to shut down the terminal, but Stiles went to the commander�
��s office, and joined the meeting inside.

  Scott tapped the partition.

  “Ah, Detective.”

  The gray-haired detective turned.

  “Where’s the printer?”

  “Coffee room. To the right, around the corner.”

  Scott touched the print key, then signed out of the system, and went to the coffee room. He was relieved to find the room empty. He collected the rap sheet, quickly folded the pages, and returned to his original cubicle. He took out his phone to call Cole, but Cole beat him to it. His phone buzzed, and showed Cole’s number in the window. He instinctively lowered his voice.

  “You got him. Colinski’s the guy.”

  “Did you tell anyone?”

  Scott felt a flash of frustration.

  “No, I didn’t tell anyone, Cole, but let’s think about this. Carter can have ten thousand policemen searching for this animal. We’ll put him down fast.”

  “Carter’s out. We’ll tell him later, but not now. Get something to write with.”

  Scott looked up, checked the room, and ducked down.

  “Carter’s right about one thing. You’re up to the butt in this, and you have been since the beginning. There’s no way you could’ve found Colinski this fast if you weren’t. You know things nobody here knows.”

  “That’s right. Like the address here. Copy it, and we’ll both know.”

  Cole rattled off a Sun Valley location, and followed it with a question.

  “Your dog found the explosive on your car?”

  “What does this have to do with Colinski?”

  “If it was made with the same material you found in Echo Park, everything.”

  Scott wondered where Cole was going.

  “They were the same. Why?”

  “Two hundred kilograms of this stuff may be here. We need to find it, and we have to find it under the radar. Carter can’t know.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I identified the person who made it. I followed that person to this facility, but they have a hundred storage units. We need your dog.”

  Scott sank lower in the cubicle.

  “Dude, listen. If you’re right, if you have that much explosives in a public business, we have to tell Carter. We have to get the Bomb Squad up there.”

  “No, Scott, we don’t. Trust me. Not everyone working with Carter is being straight with him.”

  “Who isn’t straight?”

  Scott knew he had spoken too loud. The gray-haired detective was staring when Scott glanced up, but quickly turned away. Scott hunched farther into the cubicle and lowered his voice.

  “What were you doing in Echo Park? What do you know about those stolen munitions?”

  “Did you print the rap sheet?”

  “How did you find Colinski so fast?”

  “If you want this to end, bring the dog.”

  “Who isn’t being straight? What does that mean?”

  “Bring the dog. I’ll tell you everything I know, and I’ll give you Colinski.”

  “Her name is Maggie.”

  “Bring her. Don’t tell Carter, or anyone else. You gave me your word.”

  Cole hung up.

  A door opened on the far side of the room. Carter and Stiles came out, followed by the deputy chief and the suit from the Intelligence Section. Carter and Stiles spoke for a few seconds, then Stiles turned back to the others and Carter went to the conference room. The deputy chief said something funny, and Stiles flashed the big smile.

  Not everyone working with Carter is being straight with him.

  Stiles started back to the conference room, but suddenly turned and came to Scott.

  “How’re you doing with those mug shots?”

  Scott handed her the binder.

  “Struck out. He isn’t in here.”

  “Then I’ll get you started on the next two hundred.”

  Scott eased to his feet.

  “Gotta take a rain check. I have to find new digs for tonight.”

  “I’m so sorry about all this. You go take care of that dog. We’ll get you more pictures tomorrow.”

  “Thanks.”

  Scott watched her walk back to the conference room. Carter was inside, on the phone. Carter had been watching them, but now he turned away.

  Bring her, and I’ll give you Colinski.

  Scott gathered his things, and left to get Maggie.

  47

  Elvis Cole

  THE RATTY BLUE TRANS AM pulled up behind us forty minutes later, and Scott got out. He left the dog in his car. The dog was big, and built strong, and filled the front seat like a black-and-tan wolf.

  I said, “Isn’t it dangerous, letting her ride in front?”

  Scott shoved the rap sheet at me, and stared at Safety Plus.

  “Colinski. This the place?”

  “Yeah. The woman in there is a problem, so we’ll need a plan.”

  “Before we plan, tell me what you know, and how you know it. And let me say this upfront, if what you tell me sounds like bullshit, my dog and I are leaving.”

  I gave him everything, beginning with Amy and Jacob Breslyn, how Jacob died, and that Amy was trying to learn who killed him by reaching out to al-Qaeda.

  I said, “A man named Charles appears to be helping, so he’s probably the person who set up the contact. The house belongs to Colinski, so he’s hooked into the deal, either as a middleman, or through a connection with the buyers.”

  Scott stared across the street.

  “The buyers being al-Qaeda terrorists.”

  “The people who killed her son in Nigeria are aligned with al-Qaeda.”

  Scott shook his head, and looked at the dog.

  “Perfect. The asshole who put the bomb on my car is a lunatic al-Qaeda terrorist.”

  “I don’t know who built it, but you wanted to know what I know. Now you know.”

  Scott went to his car. The window was down, and the dog was leaning out. Scott touched her nose, and scratched the sides of her head.

  “Carter doesn’t know any of this. No one on the task force is talking about any of this. Who isn’t being straight with him?”

  I took out my phone, and showed him the official HSI portrait of Janet Hess.

  “Know who she is? Special Agent in Charge Janet Hess.”

  Scott studied the picture.

  “Uh-uh. Never met her.”

  “What about an agent named Mitchell?”

  “He’s been around the office.”

  “When Carter and Stiles came to my house, Mitchell was with them. Hess is Mitchell’s boss.”

  I held up my phone again, showing her picture.

  “Hess hired me to find Amy Breslyn two hours before you and I met, only she didn’t identify herself as a federal agent. She pretended to be a friend of Amy’s. She told me someone named Thomas Lerner could help, and gave me his address.”

  Scott glanced at her picture.

  “Hess sent you to Echo Park?”

  “Yes. This is why I was there, and what I was doing.”

  “Stiles says he doesn’t exist. She thinks you made him up.”

  “She’s half right. Lerner doesn’t exist, but Hess made him up, not me. And if Carter and the task force don’t know any of this, it’s because Hess and her boy Mitchell haven’t shared the wealth. Hess knows everything I’ve told you, and more.”

  Scott frowned hard and scratched the dog again.

  “Does she know Colinski is the man in the sport coat?”

  “I don’t know, and I don’t know which side she’s playing. She knew about Amy and Charles, and they’re involved with Colinski. She sent me to the house, and the house belongs to Colinski.”

  Scott stared at the dog, only now she wasn’t relaxed and happy. Her ea
rs were up, and she looked like she wanted to bite.

  “This is bullshit. We should tell Carter. Let him bust Hess and this thing wide open.”

  “If we tell Carter, Hess will find out. Hess doesn’t know what I know, so she thinks she’s invisible. If Colinski is taking shots at you, he thinks he’s invisible, too. I don’t know if they’re connected, or how, but they don’t know we’re here, Scott. If we keep it this way, they won’t see us coming.”

  Scott glanced at the entrance.

  “Colinski.”

  “The deal happens tomorrow. When Breslyn is safe, we’ll get Colinski, and all the rest of them. But first, we have to secure these explosives.”

  Scott nodded, and turned to get into his car.

  “Let’s do it.”

  “Slow down. We need a plan. The woman in there hates me.”

  “Here’s your plan. Pike, in front. Cole, get in back.”

  “With the dog?”

  “You’ll be harder to see, and Pike looks more like a copper. Get in.”

  I climbed over the bucket past the dog to the tiny back seat, and Pike slid into the shotgun. The dog wedged herself on the console, but most of her spilled into the back.

  Dog hair covered the seat, and the floor, and the armrests. Fur clung to the doors and the roof and piled under the seats and along the rocker panels in drifts like snow. Fur swirled and hung in the air, and settled on me like dandruff.

  The dog sniffed me.

  If the dog looked big in the window, she looked even bigger an inch from my nose.

  I smiled, and tried to look friendly.

  “Remember me? You met my cat.”

  The dog panted hot breath in my face as we drove across the street.

  48

  WE PARKED BY THE TRUCK outside the little office. Scott let Maggie out, and the two of them went inside.

  “I hope he knows what he’s doing. This woman is a battle-ax.”

  Pike said, “Mm.”

  Five minutes later, Scott, Maggie, and the ax came out. The ax smiled at Pike, and eyed me pleasantly.

  “Why didn’t you say you’re a policeman instead of pretending you were a customer?”

  Scott spoke before I could answer.