The man glanced to the street, and Ernie instinctively ducked down. The man paced until he was joined by the other guy who’d confronted Ernie. The two men talked for a moment, then the dark-haired man threw a cigarette down, and they disappeared from view. Then Ernie saw the SUV drive up to the gate, and the dark-haired man punched a keypad. The gate slid open, the car drove through, and then turned in the opposite direction from Ernie.
Ernie noted the license plate, then he quickly called a detective at the station and asked him to run a check on the plate and call him back. Ernie waited a minute. The SUV didn’t return, so he got out, crossed the street again, and walked toward the gate. The office was dimly lit from some interior lights on. Ernie could see chairs and a counter bathed in dull light, but he didn’t see anyone. He glanced around and thought he saw a security camera under the eave near the front of the building. He continued to the street corner, turned left, and began to walk the chain-link fence around the property. There were more cars around the side of the building, as well as an array of car parts. When he got to an alley, he turned and walked along the back of the lot. He reached a dumpster and stopped. The whole area was quiet, the only sound was traffic in the distance. He was alone. He peered around the dumpster and studied the property. A small light on the back of the building shone onto the cars. The whole place seemed deserted, yet he couldn’t shake a nagging feeling. What if Rachel Armistead was in there, and what if she needed help? Ernie tried Spats and Oakley again, but still no answer from either one. He left them messages telling them where he was and what he was doing, and then he pocketed his phone. With that, he made a quick decision and stepped up to the fence.
“I haven’t climbed a fence in years,” he muttered to himself. He grasped the chain-link, wedged a shoe in, and hefted himself up. The metal rattled loudly. He grunted as the fence shook with his weight, but kept going. He got to the top and swung a leg over, then balanced for a second and swung his other leg around. Then he dropped to the ground and swore. He’d cut his finger, and he sucked at the blood as he ducked down. He listened for a moment to see whether anyone had heard him, then dashed between some cars and up to the side of the building. He looked up and saw that a camera hung near the eave. Too late now, he thought. He was committed. At the end of the bay of garages was a door with a window pane. He tried the knob.
Locked.
He figured there might be an alarm system and thought that would be an okay thing. If he got himself into a pickle, at least backup would be coming. He took out a pocketknife, pressed it between the doorjamb and the lock, and shoved hard. The door didn’t budge. He grimaced at how useless the knife was, shoved it back in his pocket, then spotted a metal pipe nearby. I’m committed, he thought. He picked it up and hit the glass. It shattered, and he reached in and unlocked the knob and a deadbolt. He opened the door and stepped inside.
He waited and didn’t hear any alarms, but wondered if a silent one was alerting somebody somewhere. If the police came, that would be okay. He could explain why he was there, that he had reason to believe Rachel Armistead might be in danger. He pressed himself against a wall and listened, heard nothing. Some light shone in through the open door. He let his eyes adjust to the gloom. A sedan with a tire missing was in the first bay, a white SUV was in the next, then a Jeep, and the final bay had a dark truck with the hood up. He moved around the sedan and peeked to the front of the building, toward the office area. An open interior door led from the garage bays to the office. He silently moved forward until he could see into the office. It was empty. A little rectangle of light shone into the back room. He started to sneak between the cars when he heard a sound. He froze, then heard it again. A whimper. He peered around the end of the SUV, right there in the garage, and in the dim light, he saw a woman bound to a heavy wooden chair. She tried to say something, but her voice was muffled. Ernie raced over to her.
“Rachel,” he whispered.
He pulled down a gag from her mouth. Her eye was bruised, and dried blood dripped from the corner of her mouth.
“Thank God you’re here.” Her voice was husky and dry. “Hurry! They’ll be back soon!”
Ernie looked down and saw that her hands and wrists were tied to the chair with zip ties.
“I tried to get free, but I was afraid I would hurt myself if I tipped it over,” she whispered.
He pulled out his pocketknife again and tried to cut the zip ties, but the blade was useless against the plastic. He swore at how useless it was.
“How did you find me?” she asked.
“All along, we were assuming somebody was coming after Sarah, Cody, and your husband.” He swore as the ties wouldn’t cut. “But really, they were after you, right?”
She nodded. “They wanted me to transfer a bunch of money. I told them no. By that time, I’d figured out that what they were doing was illegal, and so then they threatened me.” She started to cry. “I didn’t think they’d do anything, certainly not that they’d kill Nick.”
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “We’ll get you out of here, and we’ll talk.”
He hurried over to a long workbench filled with tools and searched around. He finally found a utility knife.
“How much money are we talking?” he asked as he worked on the first zip tie.
“Ten million.”
“So you’re managing their financial accounts, and apparently, you’re helping them launder money?”
The first tie broke loose, and he worked on the second.
She shook her head. “Hurry!” She swore. “And you’re wrong. I didn’t realize what they were doing until a few weeks ago. I should’ve figured it out sooner, but it just didn’t occur to me that they’d be doing anything criminal. I finally figured it out and talked to one of the account managers for one of their associate companies. I shouldn’t have done that, because then they knew that I knew. After that, a man contacted me and insisted that I transfer the money. I was the only one who could because I’m the only one with the security clearance for that large an amount.”
The second tie broke, and she quickly stretched her arms. Ernie worked on the third tie that held one of her legs to the chair.
“They kept threatening me, and I kept refusing to transfer the money. And now they’ve killed Nick.” She broke into a sob. “And they’re only keeping me alive until they can make me transfer the money.”
Ernie nodded as he got the final tie cut, and she nearly fell into his arms.
“Hang on to me,” Ernie urged her. “We’ll get you out of here.”
She stood up on shaky feet, and he helped hold her upright. They started toward the back door when they heard voices coming from the front office.
“Let’s get her and finish this,” a deep voice said.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“They're back!” Rachel hissed as she froze.
Ernie put his mouth to her ear and hissed, “Be quiet!”
He half-dragged her around the last car in the bay, but before they could get to the back door, the dark-haired man and Smith came into the garage. Ernie peeked over the hood of a sedan and saw the two men walking toward where Rachel had been tied up.
The dark-haired swore. “Where the hell is she?”
Ernie wondered where the hell Spats and Oakley were, and why the police hadn’t shown up. If there was a silent alarm, it apparently hadn’t gone off. Or, more than likely, there was no alarm to the police at all. Ernie realized that he might indeed be on his own, with no backup.
“That man in the cap kidnapped me,” she whispered.
Ernie motioned at her and mouthed, “Get down.”
She knelt on the concrete, and Ernie drew his Smith & Wesson. He aimed over the car and yelled, “Stay where you are!” Both men stopped and looked toward his voice. “You’re under arrest,” Ernie said, his voice echoing in the huge garage.
Instead, both men ducked behind the truck near the office. A shot rang out and dinged against the wall behind Ernie. He swore a
nd told Rachel to stay down. He drew in a breath and peered over the hood of the sedan. Another shot rang out. He ducked, then took a quick peek over the hood again, and took a shot at the two men. Then, it was silent.
“I want you two boys to put down your guns,” Ernie said.
Another shot sailed over his head and embedded into the wall behind him. Ernie glanced at Rachel. She was trembling violently as she crouched down. He knew he had to get her out of there, that the two men weren’t going to let them leave alive. Ernie quietly scooted toward the end of the car and stole a glance around it. Another shot rang out, another bullet in the wall behind him. Then a voice spoke.
“I need the woman.”
Ernie thought for a second. Then he reached for a wrench that had been left lying on the bumper of the car as he began to speak. “You and I both know that can’t happen,” Ernie said. He waited for more bullets, but they didn’t come. He took the wrench and lobbed it toward one of the big garage doors. It hit with a clang. It was the oldest trick in the book, but it fooled the dark-haired man. Ernie hadn’t figure him as a professional. The dark-haired man popped up behind the truck and shot in the direction of the noise before the other man could stop him. Ernie took a shot, heard a grunt, and the dark-haired man fell backward. A string of curses filled the air. Ernie started around the end of the sedan, and a few warning shots came in his direction. He flattened down, crawled to the next car, and crouched behind the wheel well. Another grunt came from the end of the garage, and a voice, but Ernie didn’t hear what it said. Blood pounded in his ears. He took a chance and peeked around the SUV and saw the dark-haired man being helped by the other man into the office.
Ernie wanted to follow, but he couldn’t take a chance that someone was near the back door, someone who could get at Rachel. He listened for a moment, then crouched and made his way back to her. She was curled into a ball, terrified.
“Stay there,” Ernie said in a low voice. He moved past her to the Jeep, then to the truck. When no shots were fired, he looked toward the office. Nothing. He waited a second longer, stayed low and ran to the back door. He opened it and glanced outside. No more shots were fired, so he opened the door wider. The dark SUV sat at the front of the front gate, waiting for it to open. Ernie thought he saw Smith in the driver’s seat and the dark-haired man in the passenger side. He stepped outside and ran toward the car. The gate opened enough for the SUV to slip through, then its tires squealed as it peeled out onto the street. Ernie would’ve loved to have shot at the tires, but there was too much risk of hitting someone else. Firing recklessly at escaping cars happens only in the movies. He was still several yards away when the car’s tail lights vanished. He swore and ran back into the building. Rachel was in the same place. He told her to stay there, then he did a quick but careful sweep of the garage and the front office. The place was empty except for them. His cell phone rang, and he was so tense, he jumped. It was Spats.
“Where are you?” Ernie barked into the phone.
“I’m almost there. What’s going on?”
Ernie holstered his gun and quickly filled Spats in. “Put out an APB for that car, and get over here. I’ve got Rachel Armistead.”
An hour later, Ace Collision Repair was buzzing with activity. Spats and Oakley had arrived, along with Commander Rizzo and a few squad cars. Warrants were being sought to search the property, and detectives were tracking down the owner. A BOLO – be on the lookout – had been issued for the SUV, noting that the two men in it were considered armed and dangerous. Rizzo was at the entrance to Ace Collision. Some news media reps had arrived, and more were expected, and a press conference would take place soon. The paramedics had been called, and they checked Rachel. Other than some bruises and a bloody nose, she was okay. At least physically. Ernie knew there would be an emotional toll. Spats and Oakley were listening as Ernie interviewed her. Ernie had already heard her story, but he was having her go through it again.
“I manage several large financial accounts,” Rachel said. The evening was chilly, and a paramedic had given her a blanket that she clutched around her shoulders. “I deal with savings, investments, retirement funds, and even insurance. That includes a lot of money transfers. I started out small, but in the last few years, my client portfolio has included big corporations, dealing in the millions of dollars.” She gently dabbed a bruise on her cheek before she went on. “I’ve been working with Ace Collision for a year now. Recently, I was asked to transfer a large amount of money to Real-Time Corporation in the Bahamas.” She shrugged. “You hear stories about offshore accounts, money laundering, that kind of thing, because the Bahamas is a tax haven, but I was watching it closely, and it didn’t seem like anything illegal was going on. Now that I think about it, I think they were hoping I could be trusted to help. Not everyone at our company can make transfers, but I do. That’s why they couldn’t just ask somebody else to handle it.”
“They?” Ernie asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t know who exactly, but there were a few more transactions after that, each getting larger and larger. Then, a couple of weeks ago, I was approached to transfer over ten million to a bank in the Bahamas. With a huge sum like that, you have to have special security clearance, and you need to report the transactions, although that doesn’t always happen.”
Oakley held up a hand. “Where did the money come from?”
She shrugged. “That’s the thing about money laundering. You layer transactions through various financial institutions to disguise the audit trail. I couldn’t tell you where all that money originally came from. The sudden large amount is what flagged it for me. I wanted to at least make sure things were legitimate. At that point, I said I needed to know more about the transfer. That’s when I received some threatening phone calls. She identified herself as Ms. Calhoun. She had a slight accent, and she seemed pleasant enough. She discussed the transfer and told me that everything was above board. I told her that I needed more information about the transfer, and she said that I needed to take care of this.”
“Did you?” Spats asked.
“No. It was the end of the day, and I wanted to talk to my supervisor about it. I told Ms. Calhoun that. I stayed a little late that night – Nick was out of town – and when I went to my car, I thought somebody was watching me. Then a man approached. He stayed in the shadows near a pillar in the parking garage, and he told me I should not tell anyone about the phone call, that I needed to do the transfer, or else.” Her jaw dropped. “That’s like out of a movie, but it happened. I was scared to death that they’d hurt me or worse, so I didn’t tell my supervisor just yet. I told Nick about it, and he didn’t believe me at first. He told me I should explore the company more, gather information, and then go to my supervisor. That was Friday. On Monday afternoon I received another phone call, this time from a man. He said I needed to do the transfer, that if I didn’t, I would regret it. I again refused, and told him I was thinking of talking to my supervisor. He threatened me, said if I did that, I would regret it. I didn’t know what to do, and I wanted to talk to Nick about it.” She started to cry. “Then I went home, and Nick and I changed clothes and went to the gym. I told him about the threats, and he said I should call the police when we got home. But we never made it home. They shot him. I had no idea they would do something like that.”
“It’s okay, take your time.” Ernie patted her shoulder.
She nodded, sniffled, and went on. “When they shot him, I knew right away what had happened. They did that to get to me. Someone called me later that night, told me that the next day I needed to do the transfer. I was scared to death, but I still didn’t want to do the transfer. I didn’t know if I should tell anyone. The man on the phone threatened me again, said that they could hurt someone else in order to get me to comply. The man even said that they took out random people, just to show me that they could.”
I tried to put them off while I thought what to do. I was scared to go to the police because they told me if I d
id, they would shoot my parents. Earlier today I was busy with funeral arrangements, and when I came back to the house, a man in dark clothes showed up. Before I could do anything, he pushed his way inside, and he hit me. I tried to run, and I tripped over the coffee table, and he tackled me. I think I screamed, but I’m sure nobody heard me. He jabbed me with something, and it didn’t knock me out, but my strength went away. He got me up and led me through the side door to the garage. He put me in an SUV and drove me here.”
Ernie held up his phone. “I got a call a little bit ago from the station. I had them look up the license plate of the SUV. It’s another rental.”
“They brought me here, after everyone was gone. They tied me up to the chair, and they told me that I had to wait for a call.” She touched her face. “That man with the baseball cap hit me several times. I think they were going to torture me until I transferred the money.” Her lip trembled. “It was horrible. I’ve never been so scared in my life.”
“You have no idea who Calhoun is?” Ernie asked.
She shook her head. “I’ve never heard her voice before, or her name.”
Spats eyed her. “What about the man with the baseball cap?”
She shook her head. “I’ve never seen him before today. He shot Nick, though.”
“He said that?” Oakley asked.
“Ms. Calhoun indicated that when I talked to her.” She glanced around. “Where is he now?”
Deadly Target (Detective Sarah Spillman Mystery Series Book 6) Page 23