It was as he had expected when he’d seen them come racing toward him on the main road, they were after him. And sometime within the next few minutes they would find a dead person inside his house. And when they did, he would be a wanted man. Wanted by the police for a murder he hadn’t committed, and wanted by the cartel for a hit he had no involvement in.
And what had happened to him last night, when the cops had pulled him over and brought him down to the station for questioning, was nothing compared to what was about to happen to him now.
He squeezed the steering wheel as hard as he could and cursed out loudly, and felt a sudden pain shoot up his arm. Christ almighty, how the hell was he going to get away now? Every single cop in town would have a picture of him, along with his license plate number within the end of the hour. What a bloody mess he had managed to get himself into this time.
Ideally, he would have liked to do a drive by of the house, but it was way too risky. So instead he made a left turn at the next block and made his way over to the street running parallel to his. There he did another left turn and made his way back on to the main road again, where he turned south.
His mind was a complete mess and he had difficulties concentrating. The only thought that filled his head was that he would be pulled over at any second by armed police officers and brought back to the station again. And this time Osborne wouldn’t be able to get him off the hook.
Then when the police were done with him for the time being and eventually took him over to the county jail, members from the cartel would finish him off. Probably by repeatedly sticking shanks into his stomach and chest region, or by relying on some other horrible execution method. And there would be nothing that he could do to prevent it.
He tried to concentrate, but found it impossible. There was however one thing he realized that he had to do, and that was to ditch the car before his personal information was passed on to every single patrol car in the city. That was his only chance of delaying the inevitable.
What if he headed over to James’ place and parked the car in his garage? He would be able to create some distance between himself and the house, and he would get the car off the road. All he would have to do was to throw a tarp over it and close the door, and no one would be able to locate it. Another added bonus to that plan was that James had a motorcycle that he could borrow. He knew for a fact that the bike was locked up in the garage during weekdays.
If he played his cards right, he could be halfway to Alaska by the time the cops discovered what he’d been up to. Yes, it was the right thing to do, and the only viable option he could think of there and then. Ditching the car by the side of the road or in a parking lot and relying on public transportation was too risky. People had eyes and they tended to remember faces, especially those that were wanted by the police. Riding the bus was almost like leaving breadcrumbs for the cops to follow.
Matt stepped on the accelerator, but made sure not to exceed the speed limit. Then he did some quick mental calculations in his head. James’ house was about twenty minutes away. That left him with more than enough time. He doubted that the police would release his license plate number straight away. There were other things they would focus on right now. Hell, it would probably take them twenty minutes just to figure out who was living in the house. That was of course provided that the cops who had entered the house hadn’t been there yesterday when the detectives searched the place.
Then after he’d ditched the car, he’d put on James’s crash helmet, get on the bike and head straight over to the bank and make another withdrawal. And this time it would be a whole lot more than what he’d managed to coax out of the ATMs yesterday.
If he could withdraw ten or fifteen thousand dollars, he would be able to live quite comfortably for the next year or so. And hopefully by that time, the cops would have realized that he had nothing to do with the two murders.
It would probably also be the last time that he would be able to access his bank account before the cops shut it down. Dammit, if he’d had some more time, he could have opened up an offshore account and transferred the entire shebang into a non-traceable account. Well, it was too late for that now. He should just be grateful that he would be able to tap into it one last time before skipping town.
He stayed on the I-17 until he arrived at the exit for Central City. From there he made his way north on S 7th Street and followed if for a few blocks before turning right and heading in an easterly direction. A few minutes later, he reached his destination, a one story house in a rather tired looking part of the city.
Matt parked the car in the driveway, got out and walked around to the back of the garage. There he found the key for the side door under a flowerpot. He grabbed it, opened the door and walked inside.
After turning on the lights, he walked over to the two big doors at the front, pulled the string attached to the engine in the ceiling, and watched the wide door on his right hand side start to slide up from the concrete slab. Once that was done, he walked back to the car and drove it inside. Then he repeated the process, and savored the deep rumbling noise the door made as it returned to its closed position.
On the workbench at the wall at the back, he found a green tarp which he spread over the car after first having removed the backpack from the trunk. He would be traveling light, but that was ok. He would have plenty of money, and he would be able to buy the stuff he needed as he went along.
When the car was completely covered, he grabbed some string and pushed it through the metal rings attached to the seams of the tarp and tightened it so it wouldn’t move.
Then he returned to the workbench and opened the bottom drawer in the corner unit closest to the side door. And as he had expected, he found the key to the motorcycle under a pile of old Playboy magazines. He put it inside his pocket and walked over to the door, and was about to grab the crash helmet hanging on a wooden peg next to it, when he hesitated for a few moments.
He couldn’t just take off like this without telling James what was going on. The right thing to do was to let his friend know that he was borrowing the bike. He would also have to explain why he was leaving the car here.
Would James understand and give him some time to get out of the city?
Yes, Matt was convinced he would. James knew that he wasn’t a killer, and after he’d explained everything that had happened to him in the last twenty four hours, James would want to help him out.
Matt would have done the same for him if the roles had been reversed. Besides it would only take a few minutes. He wouldn’t mention anything about the dead body he’d discovered in his house earlier that morning. Just that he was in trouble, and that he had to get out of town. There would be plenty of time for elaborations later on when he was safe and far away.
Matt found the spare house key under a tin of paint in the shed in the backyard and let himself into the house. He walked straight over to the phone in the kitchen and punched James’ cellphone number on the keypad on the wireless handset. Then he leaned back against the countertop and tried to mentally prepare himself for what was about to happen.
The phone rang four times, before a voice appeared on the other end of the line.
“James speaking.”
Matt felt a lump form in his stomach, and for a brief moment, he didn’t know how to start the conversation. He was about to drag his friend into a murder investigation. There was no other way to describe it. And even though Matt had no involvement in the two murders, it was a hell of a thing to do.
“Hey buddy, it’s Matt,” he said, all of a sudden feeling quite lightheaded.
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, and then James’ voice came back again, sounding happier and more upbeat.
“Hey buddy, you still in town or are you getting ready to ship out?”
Matt took a deep breath and stared up at the ceiling, wishing he didn’t have to do what he was about to do next, but knowing that there was no way around it.
“No, I’m still in Phoenix. Listen James, I’ve got a big favor to ask of you.”
“Ok, shoot.” The reply was instant and there was not a shred of hesitation in his friend’s voice, and for some reason that made Matt feel even more guilty for what he was about to do.
He closed his eyes and increased his grip on the handset. This was it, the moment where he would throw himself headfirst into it had arrived. He let out a deep sigh, and got on with it.
“I’ve managed to get myself into a bit of a squeeze.” He rolled his eyes and shook his head. The choice of metaphor was almost cringeworthy and it made him wince.
“I’m about to leave Phoenix, but the thing is, I can’t use my car. I’ve already ditched it and I need to organize some new transportation.”
He stopped, waiting for James to say something so he could gauge his response, but when none came, he pressed on.
“I know it’s a lot to ask, but do you think I could borrow your bike?”
There was a long moment of silence, and when James started talking again, his voice was lower and much more intense.
“What do you mean you’ve managed to get yourself into a bit of a squeeze? What the hell has happened?”
“I can’t get into that right now. I haven’t got much time. All I can say is that I’m not guilty of what they are accusing me of.”
“Guilty? They? What the hell are you talking about, Matt? Has this got something to do with the money in your bank account?”
“Yes, I think it has. Listen buddy, I hope you don’t mind, but I’m at your place right now and I’ve just parked my car in the garage.” He wanted to add that no one had seen him pulling into the driveway, and that James had nothing to worry about, but he suspected that it would have had the opposite effect, so he didn’t.
“Wholly crap Matt! Who the hell’s after you, the fucking mafia?”
Matt put a hand up to his face and started rubbing it, and could feel the sweat that had started to form there. This conversation was affecting him more than he cared to admit. Was he putting James’ life in danger too by coming here? He certainly hoped he wasn’t.
Then he let the hand fall down to his side, and he glanced up at the big plastic clock mounted above the TV. Nine thirty. How long would it take before the cops were able to put two and two together and figure out that the house where the dead body was located was rented out to him? And how long would it take before they notified his bank and told them to freeze his assets? A couple of hours? By the end of the day? He would have to speed things up.
“I can’t get into all that now, there simply isn’t enough time. I promise I’ll tell you everything you want to know later on. The only thing I need to know right now is if it’s ok for me to borrow your bike. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t an absolute emergency. If there had been time to organize another vehicle, I would have done so. But there wasn’t. The bike is my only option.”
There was another moment of silence, and then James came back again, still sounding confused and baffled.
“Yeah, sure. Of course you can borrow the bike. I’ll do anything I can to help you out, you know that.”
Matt felt the relief wash over him, and he took a deep breath. Maybe there was a way out of this mess after all. With James’ bike, and a crash helmet to cover his face with, no one would be able to recognize him. He would be able to slip through the dragnet that the cops were guaranteed to throw out.
He would get the money from the bank, then head over to California and put the bike in a storage unit and just lay low. Then after a couple months, if luck was on his side, this whole mess would have gotten sorted out and he could start to lead a normal life again.
“Thanks James, I really appreciate it man.”
“Hey don’t mention it. But listen buddy, don’t leave until I get there. I’ll let Anthony know that I’ve got an emergency and need to go back home.”
Matt’s body stiffened, and for a brief instant he was at a loss for words. Having James coming over was not something he wanted. First and foremost because he wasn’t mentally prepared yet to tell his friend what had happened, and secondly, having James here would only slow him down, and that was something he could ill afford. Not now, when just a tiny delay could be the difference between getting out of town and ending up in police custody.
“No don’t. I want you to stay exactly where you are. I’m not kidding. My life is in danger, and if I don’t move straight away, I might not be able to get away at all.” Matt could feel the desperation start to overpower him again, and he could feel his chest starting to tighten.
“It’s not up for debate, Matt. If you want to borrow the bike, you’ll wait until I get home. Fifteen minutes is not going to make that much of a difference.”
Matt didn’t respond, and it slowly dawned on him that it had been a mistake to call James. He should have just taken the bike and left him a note, explaining why he had to borrow it. Let him know that he would contact him in a few days and fill him in on all the details. About how the police had brought him in for questioning, the dead body in his house and his suspicions that the Meridional Cartel was after him. And that he was convinced that they were trying to kill him. It wouldn’t have made an iota of difference, and if he had, he wouldn’t have had to deal with this headache.
He turned around and leaned forward. His left elbow touching the countertop, his head pressed up tight against his left hand, while the other was squeezing the handset. He needed to find a way out, to explain to James that he couldn’t see him right now. That he had to get out of Phoenix ASAP. But he couldn’t think of a single thing to say that would get the message across. Nor did it help that James was stubborn by nature and seldom changed his mind once he’d made a decision.
“Ok,” Matt said after a few seconds had passed, and instantly knew he would regret it. “You can come over, but I can’t stay here for more than a few minutes. I’m not kidding. I really have to get out of the city. I also have to get to a bank as quickly as possible and make a withdrawal before my assets are frozen. There’s one about five minutes away from here. I’ll head over there right away, then I’ll come back again and we can have a quick talk. That’s the best I can do, man.”
There was a momentary pause before James replied.
“Ok, I’ll see you in about fifteen or twenty minutes then.” This was followed by a soft click, and then the connection was broken.
Matt lowered the handset and looked at it for a few seconds, wondering if he should just leave anyway, despite what he had just told James. He didn’t know what to do right now. He would make a decision later on.
He placed the handset back on the countertop and quickly left the house. Then five minutes later, he was on the Kawasaki, heading north, his destination the nearest Wells Fargo branch. His backpack was on his shoulders and he was wearing a black crash helmet with a matching visor, which he had pulled down all the way. He was safe for the time being. No one would be able to recognize him with the helmet on. He just hoped his business at the bank would be just as easy to pull off.
The man who opened the door was tall and had bright red hair, and to El Juez, it looked like he had just stepped out of the shower. Through the half open door, he could hear a radio playing music from somewhere further inside the apartment, and he got a faint whiff of fried eggs. The guy was apparently in the process of cooking up some breakfast.
El Juez lifted his hand and held out the fake police badge in front of him.
“I’m detective Carlos Mendez with the Phoenix Police Department. I’m looking for Cory Morrison,” he said in an almost flawless American accent.
The red haired man studied the badge, then raised his gaze and looked at the tall Hispanic man who stood before him. His mouth had opened slightly, his eyebrows were drawn together and his facial features had become more pronounced. And El Juez, thought he looked a little bit like a fish that had just been pulled out of the water. Good. He had caught him off guard, and that meant he was more like
ly to cooperate and give him the information he was after.
“Yes, that’s me. What is this about detective?”
“Would you mind if we do this inside?” El Juez said, and gestured toward the door with his hand.
“Yes, of course.” Cory quickly opened the door all the way and stepped aside to let El Juez past. “Please take a seat,” he said as he pulled the door shut and nodded toward the dining room table, which was located in the first room on the left.
He showed El Juez inside, then pulled out a chair and sat down. El Juez thanked him and sat down in a chair directly opposite him.
“So what is this about then detective Mendez?” Cory was leaned forward, and looked both attentively and nervously at the other man. He had placed his lower arms on the table and his hands were folded, and it appeared that he was slightly on edge, but at the same time trying his best to disguise it.
It was a completely natural reaction to have when a law enforcement officer came knocking on your door straight out of the blue. You would naturally start to worry about something you might have done that you shouldn’t have. It was human nature at its most basic level, and El Juez had seen it on numerous occasions.
At least once or twice a month he would pretend to be a police officer. Whenever he needed to extract information from people who weren’t directly linked to his targets, he would knock on a door and present one of his fake badges. It was funny how trustworthy people were, especially on this side of the border, because they always let him inside and tried to answer his questions to the best of their abilities. And even if they weren’t always able to point him in the right direction, most of them would provide him with valuable information that would eventually help him track down his targets.
And the great majority of the people he talked to exhibited the same slightly nervous, unsure behavior. Just as the person who was sitting in front of him now. It was as if they feared that he would arrest them if they weren’t forthcoming enough. At least that was the case with the law abiding people he had to deal with. It was a different story with the petty criminals. But then again, he seldom bothered to play nice guy with them.
Shock and Awe Page 11