“Arthur, this is Agent Stevens with the FBI.”
“Agent Stevens,” said Pender. “I was just about to call your office.”
“No need, Arthur. We’ve moved in with the Cardinals.” He was keeping his voice cheerful. Nonthreatening. “Where are you right now?”
“Where is Marie McAllister?”
Stevens sighed. “We’re having a bit of trouble with that one, Arthur. Might need a little more time to process her release.”
“No more time,” said Pender. “You have thirty hours to put her on a plane or we kill Jason Cardinal.”
A third voice broke in, a woman’s. “Come on, Arthur. Do you really think the government is going to give away a criminal just to make you happy?”
“Who am I speaking to?”
“This is Agent Windermere, FBI.”
“Well, Agent Windermere, I don’t care how you swing it, but if you don’t let her go, you’re going to have Cardinal’s blood on your hands.”
Windermere sighed. “I have to tell you, Arthur, the money is no problem. Angel Cardinal wants to pay the ransom, and we’re fine with it. But you’re putting us in a bind here. We can’t just let your girlfriend walk.”
“Listen to me,” said Pender. “If Marie McAllister isn’t free within thirty hours, Jason Cardinal will be dead. End of story.”
Pender ended the call and started walking. He was about to chuck the phone when it started to ring. I should just ignore this, he thought. I’ve made my demands, and they know what I want. But he raised the phone to his ear again and said nothing.
“Arthur? Agent Windermere here. Look, I know you want your girlfriend back. I respect that. But, listen, you want my advice, take the money.”
“Not an option,” said Pender. “Good-bye.”
“She talked, Arthur.” Windermere paused. “I’m not supposed to tell you this stuff, but I kind of feel bad for you. So listen, man. Your girlfriend flipped.”
Pender felt his stomach start to crumple. “Bullshit.”
“Not bullshit. She told us everything she knew about you guys. Got a slick lawyer and worked out a deal. Full immunity, Arthur, yeah. She gives you up and she walks. Is that what you want? Listen, she sold you out. Take the money and get out of here.”
The agent kept talking, but Pender wasn’t listening. He pressed the End button, and he threw the phone to the pavement and crushed it, feeling the plastic crack under his feet. He stood in the alley for a minute, his vision blurred and his head spinning. Then he regained control.
The cops had traced the call by now, he realized. He turned and ran, as fast as he could, out of the alley and back toward the motel.
seventy-eight
Windermere hung up the phone and glanced around Cardinal’s living room, now transformed into a mobile command center. Banks of computers and sophisticated phone-tapping equipment took up most of the room, and an army of FBI techs and local police officers sat hunched at the consoles. “You guys get all that?”
Agent Hall, sitting by a bank of computers in the corner, stood up. “It’s a prepaid cellular phone. We’re triangulating the location by GPS right now.”
“Can you figure out where it was purchased?” said Stevens.
Hall frowned. “I’ll talk to the cell phone company,” he said. “Might be tough.”
“This is life or death, Hall,” Windermere said. “Get it done.”
“Will do.” Hall picked up a phone and walked out of the room. Windermere glanced at Stevens.
“What do you think?”
“What the hell was that? The girl flipped on you? We never discussed that. What if he walks away?”
“If he walks away, Stevens, we get Cardinal back. If we can’t or won’t get Marie McAllister out of prison, there’s a good chance Pender decides to get violent. Right?”
Stevens stared at her. “I’m here to catch these kids, Carla.”
Windermere put her hand on his arm. “So am I, Stevens. I’m just trying to get Pender divorced from the idea that his girlfriend has to be a part of the ransom. Now maybe he brings it back to his team and they decide five million bucks is more important than getting a snitch out of jail.”
Officer Stent led Angel Cardinal into the room. She held a tissue to her face and stared around the living room, searching out Stevens with hopeful eyes. “How did we do?”
“I think we did fine,” Stevens replied. He walked over to Cardinal and put his hands on her shoulders. “You did great.”
“But my husband. Will they—”
“Listen to me,” said Windermere. “Right now that kid is freaking out, talking to his friends about how his girlfriend’s a snitch and the FBI said take the money. By tonight they’ll cave and forget about the girl. We’ll drop off the money tomorrow, and you’ll get your husband back.”
“That’s if we don’t catch them first,” said Stevens. “We’ve got police looking everywhere for those kids. We’ll find them. If we’re lucky, we’ll get Jason back free of charge.”
Hall came back into the room, pocketing his cell phone. He shrugged apologetically. “Phone company’s a no go. They say two days to get that information to us. At least.”
“Damn,” said Windermere. “What else have you got?”
Hall sat down at the bank of computers. He scrutinized the monitors for a second. Then he looked up. “Got the location of that phone call.”
“Spill.”
“Kelly and 9 Mile,” he said. “Eastpointe area. That’s south of here. Along I-94 headed back to Detroit.”
“Where’s the phone now?” asked Stevens.
Hall punched a couple of keys. “Looks like it went off grid. Must have turned it off. You wanna check out the locale?”
“Yeah,” said Windermere. “Let’s have a look.”
They parked the Crown Vic on Kelly and walked up to the intersection. The place was a collection of low-lying local auto mechanics, gas stations, and pawnshops. No motels in sight. Windermere stared up and down 9 Mile. “There’s nothing here,” she said.
“He knew we’d trace him,” said Stevens. “He called from a neutral site.”
“You think they drove here? Would he risk it in the Explorer?”
“Maybe they have a second car.”
“It’s possible.” Stevens turned to Hall. “What did they drive to Cincinnati?”
Hall shrugged. “They found Stirzaker’s body strapped into a beat-up Dodge Caravan. A real piece of shit.”
“Old?”
“As the hills, man.”
“What did they drive before, a Durango?”
“Yeah,” said Windermere. “Nearly new.”
“And every other car they bought was nearly new. Off lease return or whatever. These kids didn’t screw around with used cars.”
“Except the minivan.”
“Yeah,” said Stevens. “When they started running low on cash.”
Stevens spun around, taking in the intersection. An abandoned butcher’s shop halfway down. A couple tire stores and a muffler joint. Heavy traffic on 9 Mile, a steady stream of trucks and a city bus every five or six minutes. “Hard for them to buy a second car when they’re running out of money, running out of aliases, and their pictures are on the nightly news,” he said.
“You think he walked,” said Windermere.
“Well, let’s just say hypothetically. We got any motels nearby?”
“Wait a sec.” Hall walked back to the Crown Vic. He came back with a handful of printouts and gave them to Stevens. “These are the accommodations listings in the Yellow Pages. Looks like there’s a bunch of motels a couple miles down I-94 in both directions.”
“But nothing closer. So he’d have to walk a couple miles to get here. Then a couple miles to get back.”
“Unless he drove. Maybe they stole a car.”
Windermere spoke up. “Anyone check those motels?”
Hall nodded. “Franklin and Georges checked every one of those spots. Couldn’t find a thing. No Exp
lorers, no kids.”
“Double-check that,” said Stevens. “Let’s make sure they checked them all.”
Hall nodded and pulled out his cell phone. He wandered back to the car to make the call, and when he came back a minute later, he was wearing a half smile. “Apparently some guy named Landry’s been trying to get through to you. You know him?”
“Paul Landry,” said Stevens. “Homicide cop. He’s running point on the Beneteau murder.”
“Okay,” said Hall. “He’s posted up at the Motor City Motel right now. You wanna guess what he’s sitting on?”
“Dish.”
“Dark green Ford Explorer. He found it hidden in back of the lot. Only thing is it’s got Michigan plates. But the passenger window is missing, and he figured you guys would want to take a look.”
Windermere frowned. “I thought Franklin and Georges checked out that motel.”
“Landry said the truck was well hidden. They probably just missed it.”
Windermere shot Stevens a look. Stevens fought down a smile. “So where is this place?”
“South,” said Hall. “Two miles off I-94.”
Windermere unlocked the Crown Vic. “Get in and buckle up,” she told the men. “And you’d better call for backup. We’re taking those kids down tonight.”
seventy-nine
Wait, what are you saying?” said Sawyer. “Marie’s a snitch?”
Sawyer sat at the motel room table, staring down at his gun. Tiffany was lying on one bed while Cardinal sat up on the other, watching intently but keeping his mouth shut.
“Five million dollars,” said Tiffany. She’d been watching TV, but now her focus was all Pender. “They said we could just walk away with the money.”
“Yes,” said Pender. He sighed. “And yes.”
“What did you tell them?”
“What do you think I told them? I told them shove it.”
Tiffany stared at him. “You turned down five million dollars. Just like that.”
“I didn’t turn down anything,” said Pender. “But if it’s a choice between Marie and the money, I know which way I’m going.”
Tiffany frowned and turned back to the TV as Pender locked the door. “You think it’s worth five million dollars just to take back a snitch?”
Pender didn’t answer. He’d been running the same question in his head since he’d hung up the phone. The job would go smoother if it was just a straight ransom gig—that much was for certain. Trying to get Marie back was a monster gamble. And if Marie had sold them out, well, it was a hell of a thing to be risking so much for a girl who’d betrayed you.
Sawyer caught his eye. “You think she really did it, boss?”
Pender shook his head. He wasn’t sure what he thought. He knew something had changed in Marie when they’d killed Donald Beneteau. Maybe she knew she was finished with this kidnapping thing—with us—when she got on the plane to Seattle, he thought. Or maybe she just spooked at the jail time. Anyone would get scared in a situation like that.
In his heart, though, he felt stabbed, sick at the thought she’d betrayed them.
“We should have found her another lawyer in Jacksonville,” he told Sawyer. “We should have moved quicker.”
“We had no money. Mouse was shot.”
“She must have thought we’d left her behind,” Pender said. He was pacing the room now. “I mean, how do we know what she told them for certain?”
“What did she really know, anyway? She knew aliases, bank accounts, all the old jobs. Fine. The Feds could have figured all that out.”
“She knew where we’re planning to retire.”
“So we change locales. You don’t get to retire in the Maldives. That’s all.”
“It doesn’t matter what she told them,” said Tiffany. “Fact is, she betrayed you guys. And you’re still willing to risk everything to save her. We could walk away right now. Think about it.”
“You’re rich,” said Sawyer. “What the hell do you care?”
“My dad cut me off,” said Tiffany. “My credit cards and everything. I have about a hundred bucks to my name.”
Pender stared at the floor, charting every stain on the carpet. He could feel Tiffany’s and Sawyer’s eyes on him, and he knew they were waiting for his decision. He thought about taking the five million dollars, and then he thought, what the hell would I do without Marie? Snitch or no snitch, I’m in love with the girl. I could have all the ransom money in the world and I’d never forgive myself if I walked away. He looked up, first at Sawyer, then Tiffany.
“Well?” Tiffany said.
“It’s like this,” Pender told them. “I’m staying until Marie’s out of jail. You guys can stay or go as you like. You’ve got passports and credit cards, and there’s money waiting on the other end. If you don’t want to stick around, you can go. No judgment.”
“She’s a snitch, Pender,” said Tiffany. “You’re making a huge mistake.”
Sawyer slammed his hand down on the table. “She’s no fucking snitch,” he said. “She’s part of the team.”
Tiffany stood up. “All right,” she said. “I can see how this one’s going to end. I’m out.”
Sawyer stared. “You’re leaving?”
“Let her go, Sawyer,” said Pender. “Better she walks out now than when we really need her.”
Tiffany walked to the door. She looked back at them. “You guys are going to let this girl bring you down,” she said. “I can’t be here when it all falls apart.”
Then she turned to the door, but before she could reach the handle, a knock on the other side froze the room. Sawyer and Pender stared at each other, and Sawyer reached for the Uzi. “Who is it?” Pender called.
“Arthur Pender,” came the voice from the other side. “This is the FBI. Open up. We’ve got you surrounded.”
eighty
Tiffany stood frozen in midstride. Sawyer picked up the Uzi while Pender stared at the door, feeling like he’d just jumped out of a plane without a parachute.
They’d been made. Somehow the FBI had found them, and the entire game had changed. They had moved from a simple kidnapping to a hostage situation, and Pender didn’t need to go to the window to imagine the scene outside. There would be police cars and Feds, helicopters, news reporters, SWAT teams, snipers, and hostage negotiators. They were now in the middle of something huge, something disastrous.
Okay, he thought. Don’t panic. He turned back to Sawyer. “Help me move this bed,” he said. “We gotta barricade that door.”
Sawyer stood and helped Pender drag the bed to the door. They fit it tight against the wall, and then Pender stood back to survey the room. So this is it, he thought. Our Little Bighorn. This is where we make our stand.
Another knock on the door. “Arthur, we know you’re in there.”
Must be Stevens. Pender walked to the window and slipped the heavy curtain apart as gently as he could. He peered out into the parking lot, and after his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw the scene exactly as he’d imagined it, spread out and surreal like some kind of movie.
He saw two Grosse Pointe PD cruisers and two unmarked sedans, the cruisers angle-parked and their occupants kneeling behind open doors, their service revolvers drawn and aimed square at the motel room door. At the door stood two FBI agents, a middle-aged man and a younger woman, both with guns drawn. The man reached up and knocked again. “Arthur,” he said. “If you don’t open up, we’ll have to break down the door.”
Pender stepped back from the curtains and drew them tight. “Go ahead,” he said, forcing his voice to sound calm. “You come in here with anything less than five million dollars and you’ll have yourselves a dead hostage.”
There was a pause. Then the woman spoke. “Arthur,” she said. “Listen up. We have you surrounded. There’s no way you’re getting out of there alive. This game is over, okay? Make it easy on yourself.”
“This game is not over,” said Pender. “And if you think you can force our hand,
you’re dead wrong.”
He walked to the bedside table and picked up the TEC-9, glancing at Sawyer as he did. Sawyer nodded, and he walked back to the door.
“If you want to give Angel Cardinal her husband back in one piece,” Pender continued, his voice barely his own, “I’d suggest you pay closer attention to our demands this time around. Are you listening?”
Pender waited. Finally Agent Stevens spoke. “We’re listening, Arthur.”
“Good,” said Pender. “We want the ransom within twelve hours. We want safe passage to the nearest airport and a jet airplane and pilot package capable of flying us to Asia or northern Africa. You will deliver Marie McAllister to the airport and put her on the plane. When we’ve verified the delivery of the money and that the plane meets our requirements, we’ll release Mr. Cardinal and you can forget about us.”
“Arthur.” Windermere spoke. “We’ve been over this. The money’s no problem. But we can’t get you Marie. I’m sorry.”
“This is not a negotiation,” said Pender. “Any deviation from our demands will result in Mr. Cardinal’s being shot. We’re not willing to listen to excuses.”
“I’ve got a jet.” Cardinal’s voice surprised them all. “I’ve got a Gulfstream 550 at Coleman Young airport. You can have it and my pilot. The money, too, no problem. Just don’t kill me.”
“You get that?” said Pender. “Cardinal’s going to help you out with the jet. That just leaves Marie and the money. You’ve got twelve hours.”
He walked back from the door and picked up the television remote, cycling through the channels until he found the news, and he sat down on the edge of the bed to watch the coverage, remote in one hand and machine gun in the other, focusing on the screen and trying to calm his racing heart.
eighty-one
Agent Stevens watched the first news helicopter arrive and began to trace its urgent pattern above the Motor City Motel, a droning speck against a glorious sunset. Then he brought his eyes back down to earth and surveyed the parking lot and the circus contained therein.
The Professionals Page 28