“You sweat in your bathrobe?”
“Um … only on Sundays … when I run on my treadmill. I read somewhere it helps you lose weight if you wear heavy clothing because you sweat more.”
“What do you weigh—a hundred and fifty pounds?”
“Then it must be working.”
Jesse sighed and leaned back. Ron was back at headquarters, finalizing paperwork for Hanks involvement and getting things squared away for the body shop to open. Jesse thought about calling Ron to tell him to cancel the plan or come up with a new one—one without Kyle as the point man.
“I can do this,” Kyle said suddenly. He looked at Mack. Mack high-fived him like he’d just conquered Mount Everest.
“That’s the spirit,” she smiled.
“That’s the spirit?” Jesse threw up his hands. “This isn’t the ropes course at summer camp. Even if he could master Body Language 101, his sweat glands will sell him out. Not even a bathrobe can hide that!”
“Look, Jesse, maybe you could be a little more encouraging here. Kyle is doing his best to help us out.”
Jesse glanced to the couch for help from Dozer. Predictably, he’d fallen asleep.
Kyle spoke. “Maybe Mack can run through this with me a few more times. I think the more I practice, the better I’ll do.”
“The thing is that no amount of practice can prepare you for exactly what’s going to happen. You’ve got to be able to think on your feet.”
Kyle looked at Mack and smiled. “I am thinking on my feet.”
Mack looked hopeful. Wiz excused himself to the bathroom. “All right,” Jesse said. “Let’s start from the beginning. I’ll be waiting in the bar, you come in and find a table.”
Kyle walked into the hallway, then turned around and pretended to enter the bar. He looked around with more confidence than any man who works out in a bathrobe should. He stopped to survey the room, then sat down at the table, drumming his fingers. At least he looked collected. Jesse nodded for Mack to approach. He watched as Kyle played the scenario out with a surprising coolness. Mack played the scenario by the book, but this time Kyle looked exactly like the kind of guy who could buy illegal body parts and pretend it was all legitimate business.
After a few minutes, Kyle waved Jesse over with two fingers.
“Okay, hold on,” Jesse said. “Kyle, that’s terrific. Exactly how you want to play the thing. But when it’s time to call me over, you need to stand, get my attention and let your confidence wilt just a tad. This guy has to buy into the idea that you work for me, and that I’m the one who calls the shots. It’s the only way we’re going to get you out of the picture.”
“All right. Let me try again.” Jesse backed up and Kyle sat down. This time, instead of waving Jesse over, he stood and, offering a slight look of inferiority, got Jesse’s attention.
“Perfect!” Jesse slapped his hands together. “That’s what we want, Kyle. Just like that. Then I’ll tell you I want to talk to this guy alone, and you’ll be free to leave.”
Jesse checked his watch. “I’ve got to go do something.”
“We’re meeting here at four,” Wiz said.
“I’ll be back in time. Keep working on this.” He looked at Dozer. “And somebody wake him up before Ron gets back.”
Captain Gates hung up the phone. “Okay, we’re set with the backup team. I talked to the insurance company. They’re trying to get their guys here ASAP, but there’re a lot of hoops to jump through.” She looked at Hank, who stood with his back against the far wall. “Hank, we appreciate your coming to do this for us.”
Hank nodded.
“You’ve worked a lot with cars?”
Hank nodded again.
Gates looked to Ron for help. “He knows his stuff.”
She signed off on a batch of papers. “Well, Hank, the world could use a few more quiet people, I can tell you that.”
Ron said, “Jesse will be the front man on most everything.”
“All right,” Captain Gates said, handing Ron the papers. “This could be very big for us.”
“I’m cautiously optimistic, but truthfully, it’s still a long shot. The chances of this guy actually arriving at the bar tonight are slim, but if he does, we’ll be ready. Jesse’s good. We’ll be able to feel out where he is in the food chain.”
“He could lead us right into the middle of this ring.”
“I know.”
Captain Gates walked to the other side of her desk, where she sat down and pulled out a sheet of paper. She handed it to Ron.
“It came in this morning,” Gates said.
Ron read over the report. “White minivan, found completely intact. No forced entry?”
“That’s right. You’ll have to excuse me,” Gates said. “I’m running late for a meeting.” She shook Hank’s hand. “I appreciate your help, Hank. Ron, keep me updated. I want to know everything that happens.”
“I will.”
Hank trailed Ron back to his office.
“What’s significant about the minivan?” Hank asked.
“So you do speak.”
“When it suits me,” Hank said with a half smile.
Ron checked his watch. He needed to get to the UC house by four. “It’s just another stolen vehicle. Listen, I need to call my wife. I’ll meet you down at my truck.”
“Okay.” Hank left, and Ron called Nan.
“Hi,” Nan said.
“Well, this is a good sign. You answered my call even though you knew it was me.”
“I’m in a calm mood. How is Kyle?”
“He’s fine. We’ve been practicing with him all day. He’s got a knack for this kind of thing.” Lie. White. Survive.
“That’s surprising,” Nan said. “Behind the pulpit he looks like a mouse staring at a hundred pairs of cat eyes.”
“I just wanted to call and check in with you. I’ll be home late. I don’t know exactly what time. I’ll call you as soon as we’re finished to let you know Kyle’s okay.”
“Have you taken your heart medicine?”
“Of course I have.” He reached for his bottle of pills in the desk drawer. “Don’t worry. This thing is going to run smoothly.”
“They’re lucky to have you. I’ll talk to you later.”
“I love you,” Ron said, but she was already gone.
Jesse walked past the elevator and took the stairs, hoping the climb would invigorate him. Time crept by. Jesse felt ready for this. Almost ready. He still needed to see Chaplain Greer.
He needed to tell Greer that he’d be unreachable for a few months, until Task Force Viper was complete. It wasn’t a deep-cover assignment, but Jesse still had to cut all communication. The chaplain knew the drill.
He paused at the fourth-floor landing for a moment to catch his breath. Plenty of time. The chaplain rarely left his office before five. Chaplain Greer’s presence had a way of calming Jesse. He knew the chaplain would pray for him, and that’s all he wanted. He always prayed the same prayer—something he said he prayed often for officers.
Jesse knocked quietly on the chaplains door, even though he really felt like banging on it. For once, he didn’t want to startle the man.
Jesse listened but heard nothing. He knocked again, a little louder. He grabbed the door handle, but it was locked.
“Chaplain?” Jesse banged on the door. “Chaplain, it’s me, Jesse Lunden.”
Nothing.
He inhaled, and looked down the hallway. Walking briskly toward an open office door, he found a secretary at her desk slurping ramen noodles.
She motioned Jesse in when she noticed him.
“I’m looking for Chaplain Greer.”
She chewed quickly, waved a hand in front of her mouth, swallowed, then chased the noodles with a long sip of Diet Coke.
“Will he be back?” Jesse asked.
She shook her head.
“Do you know how I can reach him? I really need to talk to him.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. �
��He left a couple of days ago for a twenty-one-day cruise with his wife.”
“Where?”
“Where?” she echoed.
“Where?”
“Um … I think the Caribbean, but—”
“Do you know what cruise line?”
The secretary stared back at him.
“The cruise line?” Jesse asked again.
“Who are you?”
“Detective Lunden.”
“I’m sorry, Detective, but I don’t have that information. Is something wrong? Is there a family emergency?”
Jesse trembled, his heart hovering between every beat. “No … it’s just … it’s …”
“Yes?”
“Nothing. Never mind.” Jesse walked away. After he rounded the corner, he slammed his back against a wall, slapping his hand against the concrete. What now?
It was a sign.
He couldn’t do this now. Not without his lucky chaplain.
Chapter 23
Ron stood by the dresser in the back room and fiddled with a tiny microphone. “Back in my day, we didn’t have all this fancy junk. When microrecorders came out, we thought we’d died and gone to heaven. You kids rely too much on this. Any criminal can be prosecuted without a single recording if you know how to do it. Which you will.”
Ron glanced over his shoulder to see why it was suddenly so quiet. Dozer had fallen asleep on the bed where he’d been sitting.
“Hey!”
Dozer sat straight up. “Yeah?”
“You were asleep. Again.”
“Oh.”
“You okay?”
“Didn’t sleep well last night … You know, thinking about this.”
Ron turned to him. “I need you at the top of your game.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Wiz will run this,” Ron said, pointing to the listening gear. “I hope he knows what he’s doing.”
“He seems to know his stuff,” said Dozer. “And I think you’re sending the right guy in with Kyle. Jesse is the best. He’s got this … I don’t know, sixth sense? And he’s a brave son of a gun too. A couple years ago a drug dealer shot him. They thought he was dead. But even with a bullet in his shoulder, Jesse managed to tackle him, get the gun, and cuff him.” Dozer paused. “I know he seems hard to manage, and I guess he can be difficult. But you can count on him. He’ll give you his best in there and he won’t let you dow—”
Mack suddenly rushed into the room, her expression causing Dozer to hop up from the bed.
“What’s wrong?” Ron asked.
“It’s Jesse. He’s … he’s …” She pointed toward the doorway. Dozer started out of the room, but Mack stopped him.
“He’s what?” Dozer asked.
Mack hustled them back into the room and closed the door. “He’s kind of … losing it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure I’m following what the problem is, and he’s claiming he doesn’t have a problem.”
“What did he say?” Dozer asked.
“He says we need to call off the operation. And he’s sweating and pacing. He’s making Kyle look like a yoga instructor.”
Dozer started to leave the room again, but Mack held up her hands. “I’m just warning you, he seems to be in a … sensitive … state.”
“Why?” Dozer asked.
“Something about a chaplain and a cruise ship. And he’s going on and on about bad luck.”
“Oh no …” Dozer exited the room. Ron followed and they found Jesse arguing with Wiz.
“What’s going on?” Ron asked.
Wiz shrugged. “I have no idea.”
Jesse pointed to a far wall. “That’s another sign!”
Two pictures of Elvis hung side by side.
“What about it?” Ron asked.
Jesse stomped over to the pictures. “I hung this picture up.” He pointed to the Elvis in a white jumpsuit. “And now … this!” Another Elvis, in his younger, thinner days, grinned back at them.
“Will someone please explain this to me?” Ron asked.
Dozer sighed, then walked over and removed the young Elvis photo.
“Hey!” Mack yelled. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“ You hung this picture up?” Jesse barked.
“Everyone—calm down!” Ron shouted, and the room grew quiet. “Sit down. All of you.”
Everyone sat except Jesse, who stood defiantly next to jumpsuit Elvis.
“Now,” Ron said, “Jesse, what is going on?”
“I know you all think I’m crazy. I’m not, okay? We need to abort the operation.”
Ron struggled to speak in a gentle voice. “Did you get some intel?”
“When I was shot a couple years ago, the bullet hit a major artery. I almost bled to death. They were rushing me into surgery, and this man comes out of nowhere. Just his fourth day on the job. Chaplain Greer. He prayed for me. And I didn’t die.”
The room was quiet.
“Ever since then, me and the chaplain, we’ve been really close, you know? He prays for me, and every time I have to go on an undercover assignment, he prays this … this … It’s the Bible, something from the Bible. It’s about protection. Ever since then, nothing bad has happened to me.” Jesse met everyone’s curious stares with a serious expression. “And now he’s gone.”
“Who?” Ron asked.
“The chaplain! Chaplain Greer is gone!”
“Dead?” Kyle asked.
“No. On a cruise. I can’t reach him for twenty-one days. And then … then I come back here and suddenly there are two pictures of Elvis. There should only be one. One!”
“I’m trying to understand here,” said Ron, “but I don’t.”
“I can’t go out there without … without him, you know …” Jesse’s hands were making some weird motion they were apparently supposed to interpret. Then, barely above a whisper, he said, “Praying for me.”
“Elvis?” Wiz blurted out.
“Why would I want Elvis to pray for me?” Jesse asked. “Elvis is just there for good luck!”
Wiz looked genuinely confused. “Sorry, man.”
Jesse ran his palm over his bald head. “All of this … it’s a sign. A bad omen. We need to call it off.”
Ron’s patience had hit bottom. “Jesse, I’m sorry your chaplain is on vacation and that skinny Elvis offends you, but we’re not calling this off. Everything is set. We’re going in.”
Jesse shook his head. “It’s a bad idea.”
“Then I’ll send Dozer.”
Dozer looked at Jesse. “You’re the one, Jesse. You’re the best. We need you in there.”
Jesse continued to breathe heavily. As every second ticked by, Ron’s confidence in him drained like a bathtub.
“Jesse, what scripture was it?” Mack asked.
“Scripture?”
“The chaplain. He prayed something. You said it was from the Bible.”
“Uh …” Jesse shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“He never told you?” Mack asked.
“Yeah, he did, I guess. I just never paid attention.”
Mack, the only person in the room who looked enthusiastic, said, “Jesse, this is no problem. We can find that scripture.”
“You can?” Dozer asked.
“Jesse surely knows some of the verses, right?” Mack asked.
“I don’t know any verses.” Jesse glanced around the group. “Look, I’m not religious, okay?”
“He’s superstitious,” Dozer explained. “He touches Elvis’s picture, rubs the bullet that went into his shoulder, talks to Chaplain Greer, and then he doesn’t change his lucky socks until we make an arrest, at which point he sets them on fire.”
Everyone looked at Jesse’s socks.
“Let’s just start with the basics,” said Mack. “What was the general idea of the passage?”
“Um … that I wouldn’t die.”
“Okay, good, nondying.”
/> “It’s pretty long,” Jesse continued. “But it was all about keeping me safe.”
“Was it in the Old or New Testament?”
Jesse shrugged.
“Was the Bible opened toward the front or toward the back?”
“More or less in the middle. I think.”
“Hmm,” Mack said. “Sounds like the Psalms.”
Jesse nodded. “Yes, that sounds right.”
“There are a lot of psalms. One hundred and fifty. Tell me some specific words or phrases.”
Everyone waited in silence. “Okay, well, God … evil … angels … the plague …”
Ron looked at Mack, who scratched her forehead. “That narrows it down … a little. What else?” she asked.
Jesse looked frustrated. “It seems like maybe there was something about danger … terror … punishment …”
“Man,” Wiz whispered to Dozer, “I think I would change my rituals if I were him.”
“Anyway, it ends by saying I’ll have a long life.”
“Good, good,” Mack said. “Anything else?”
Jesse shook his head.
“Come on,” Mack walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe something peculiar about it, something that stood out to you.”
Jesse thought for a moment. “I know. Feathers.”
“Feathers?” Wiz cackled.
“Shut up,” Dozer said. “Let him concentrate.”
“I know … thousands … that’s my favorite part … a thousand will fall, ten thousand will die around you, something like that.”
“Got it!” Mack announced. “Its Psalm 91.”
Jesse nodded. “That’s the one. I remember now.”
Ron exhaled. “Terrific. So now Mack can pray that for you.”
“She can’t. It’s unacceptable. She likes ‘Heartbreak Hotel’ Elvis. It has to be International Hotel Elvis.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mack asked.
“Elvis was at his best in Vegas. His month-long show at the International Hotel kick-started his career again. He was given a second chance—just like me.”
“His best?” Mack retorted. “Do I have to remind you that he used his very first record deal check to buy his mother a pink Cadillac? What can be better than that?”
“His music got better once he came to Vegas.”
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