Black And Blue (Quentin Black Mystery #5)

by Andrijeski, JC

  “Sterling,” he clarified. “You’re using him as bait, but you didn’t tell him?”

  Mozar looked at him like he’d just suggested they shoot Sterling themselves. “We strongly suspect he’s working for one of the syndicates, Black.”

  “Yeah,” Black said. “I got that. But he works for the one that wants to help you catch the shooter, right? They obviously trust the guy, or they’d be a lot more worried about you picking him up. That, or they think he’s untouchable. They wouldn’t lead you to a hitman’s kill sheet on the guy, and then stand around and wait for you to stop his murder if they thought he’d roll on them under interrogation...”

  Or they’d kill him themselves before that could happen... Hawking’s mind muttered. Or they want us involved for some other reason...

  Black glanced at him, in spite of himself.

  Frowning, he looked between the two of them.

  “I guess the ethics of leaving the guy out there with his ass in the wind never crossed either of your minds?” he said. “Or are you so cocky you think there’s no way you won’t get there first?”

  Mozar gave him an annoyed look. “We discussed it. It’s a calculated risk... and one I hope we’ve taken appropriate precautions to minimize. If we told Sterling there might be a hit out on him, the whole thing would be off.”

  When Black shook his head, refolding his arms in the too-tight uniform shirt, Mozar added, sharper, “We’d have to bring him into protective custody. Inform the F.B.I... the shooter would disappear. We’d never learn anything about him or who hired him.”

  Black let out another grunt, but didn’t answer.

  Mozar was right. It still irritated him.

  Even if this jackass at the shipping company was crooked, he was a civilian. Civilians couldn’t handle paid contract killers. That was kind of the point.

  A nagging voice in the back of his head told him there was still something they weren’t telling him. He almost wondered if that voice was Miri’s, but it didn’t feel like it––not exactly.

  Either way, if they were keeping something from him, why the hell wouldn’t they be thinking about it? In Black’s experience, people who were actively trying to deceive someone tended to obsess on that deception. They obsessed on it even more when in close proximity to the person they were lying to.

  Black hadn’t noticed anything, and he’d been looking.

  So his logical mind told him he was being paranoid.

  He spent the better part of the ride to the Port of Los Angeles looking over maps on Hawking’s tablet, mainly of the Port and the building where Sterling worked, comparing Hawking’s more official maps to what he’d found in the killer’s files on Sterling. Hawking sat with him in the back while Rodrigo and Mozar sat up front. Rodrigo drove.

  “And you confirmed this is his exact office?” Black said, pointing from his memory of the operator’s files. “Northwest corner of the fourteenth floor? Way the hell out here on the island?”

  Hawking nodded. “That furthest building, yeah.” He looked up at Black. “You think he’d wait until he got inside? That’s a long drive... easy for us to spot-check any cars or trucks on his way in, especially this time of night.” He pointed to the long strip of highway leading out there. “Only way in and out, by land.”

  “Do you have drones?”

  Hawking frowned at him. “What? No.”

  “And you’re sure it’s only one guy?”

  “We only found fingerprints for one. Witnesses only saw one in the alley.” Hawking looked up, still frowning. “Sterling doesn’t strike me as a particularly difficult target. Why do you ask?”

  Black shook his head, not answering. “You said you have fingerprints. He didn’t show up in any databases you ran them against?”

  “No.”

  Black exhaled. Looking over the layout, he tried to decide. “Do you think he knows we’re looking for him?” He glanced at Hawking again, then towards Mozar in the front seat. “Was the car moved? The one by the theater. Or did you leave it there?”

  “We left it,” Hawking said. “We made copies of everything that seemed relevant and left it, after dusting and looking through everything. We returned all the originals, and even used photographs to get the placement right.”

  Black nodded. “If you dusted the inside of the car, he’ll know.”

  “We cleaned it. We didn’t leave anything.”

  “He’ll know.”

  Mozar glanced back over his seat, frowning.

  Hawking seemed more resigned. He sighed, nodding. “Okay. Well? What if he does know?” He watched as Black continued to go over the different entrances and exits to the building, widening his view to include the storage yard and parking areas. “Do you think he’s not going to show up? That he’d just cut out?”

  “It’s possible,” Black muttered. “Do you have a version of this map that shows all of the security provisions for the docking area itself? The one the shooter left wasn’t complete.”

  “Like surveillance cameras, you mean?”

  “Cameras, check points, locked gates, water access––”

  Mozar turned his head a second time, gazing at them both over the seat. “Show him, Evan. The schematics the Port Police gave me this afternoon.”

  Black glanced up, frowning. “So they do know about this?”

  Mozar shrugged. “I have a contact there. We asked him to keep it quiet for now, so officially, no, they don’t know... but we have access to some of their data, including work schedules, security layout... and a keycard.” Mozar held up the latter, which hung around his neck on a lanyard. “We also have a small contingent of Port Police standing by to help us with locking down that part of the island, if we need to.”

  “Who’s actually going in?” Black said.

  “We’ve got sharp-shooters set up inside already, and a SWAT team that’s prepping in one of the storage container areas not far from the main admin building.”

  Black’s frown deepened. “You managed to keep a deployment of SWAT quiet with the Feds?”

  Mozar looked over his shoulder at him, frowning. “We aren’t required to regularly update either the F.B.I. or Homeland Security on the nature of our case operations occurring within LAPD jurisdiction. My captain knows we’re pursuing a lead out here. That’s all that matters.” Mozar and Hawking exchanged looks before he added, “He’s trying to find the mole from our side. So he’s giving me some discretion on how I coordinate with the federal agencies for the time being. He’s also running interference, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

  “And if they’re following you now?” Black said, quirking an eyebrow.

  He shrugged. “We swept the car, but it’s possible.”

  “They do have drones, Andrew.”

  Mozar scowled, looking distinctly annoyed that Black used his first name. “Well, there’s not much we can do about that, if so.”

  Black’s frown deepened.

  Maybe the bad vibes he was getting were around this mole.

  Either way, the kill zone was bugging him.

  “You’ve got a lot of holes here, Mozar,” he muttered, glancing up. “I agree, if he’s coming he’ll still probably come at Sterling here, if only because it’s easy as fuck to see if anyone’s watching the place. I’m not sure if I’m going to be much help to you, truthfully.”

  “Why not?” Mozar said, sharper.

  Black exhaled, opening his palms over the tablet.

  “There are too many fucking options. The point of this kind of thing is to narrow the options, and I can think of five or six contingencies I might employ as an operative if this was my kill... and that’s mid-op, mind you, and assuming I didn’t know the place was being staked out before I got in.”

  “How would you do it?” Hawking said.

  Black glanced at him, pulled out of his thoughts. He frowned as he assessed the scenario from the operator side of his brain.

  It was a good question, really.

  He consider
ed what he might do if he was relatively sure the place was being watched, and if he already suspected Sterling would have LAPD and possibly F.B.I. tailing him.

  The difference is, he likely wouldn’t go in alone. He’d bring in his team.

  “Would you call it off?” Hawking said. “Wait for the heat to die down? Maybe try Sterling at his residence, since the plans detailed his work?”

  Black shook his head, still thinking. “No. Probably not.”

  “Probably not to which thing?” Mozar said, watching them both with an annoyed expression. “No, you wouldn’t call it off? Or no, you wouldn’t try to hit him somewhere else?”

  Black raised his eyes. “Look, you’ve got two main scenarios here. Either he knows you’re waiting for him, or he doesn’t. Let’s assume the guy’s a pro and he knows... or at least suspects. I think that’s pretty likely, honestly, so let’s start there. If this were me and I knew, I would have to think about whether you knew I knew. I’d assume you’d expect me to do one of two things, a) walk through the front door, or b) run.”

  “What does that mean?” Mozar said, glancing between the two of them again. “Why only those two options? Run, or the front door?”

  Black sighed. “I’d assume you had someone like me to tell you those two options made the most sense... at least under normal conditions. I wouldn’t want to do either thing that person would tell you I’d be likely to do.”

  Feeling Mozar’s puzzlement and annoyance deepen, Black exhaled again.

  “Look, you asked what I’d do. Well, if I knew you were expecting me, and I’d already taken the contract and was committed, I wouldn’t run unless I had to... nor would I want to wait. If I waited, you’d likely get paranoid and either put the target into protective custody or arrest him. I also wouldn’t go through the front door... I’d only do that if I was reasonably sure no one was expecting me. Under normal circumstances, the front door makes sense. It’s the least conspicuous way in, since that’s how the people who are supposed to be there get inside.”

  Shrugging, he added, “People who get made tend to run, so I’d figure you’d be expecting that too, if you thought I knew I’d been made. If I did run, it wouldn’t be the usual way, and it would be a last resort.”

  Pausing, he gave Mozar a level stare, watching him think as his mind caught up. When Black could see the detective turning over his words, he went on.

  “Look, whoever this is, getting their own security badge isn’t an issue. But the front door wouldn’t be a good option. I’d assume that’s where you’d set up.”

  “Why?” Mozar said.

  Black shrugged. “That’s where the cops always set up.”

  Mozar frowned, glancing at Hawking, who let out a reluctant laugh.

  Again, Black felt a stab of Mozar’s irritation.

  “So what would you do?” Hawking said. “You wouldn’t run, or use the front door, so what?”

  “That’s where all the other options come in,” Black said, exhaling. “And different contractors have different preferences and styles and weapons they’re more comfortable with and whatever else. He could set up a snipe sneak on the highway and try to hit Sterling in his car on the way in to work. It’s likely to be confused with a regular car crash at first, which buys him time to exit... but it’s also a harder shot to make, so he’d have to be good. He could hit him in a public place, picking up his kids, out to dinner with the wife... that kind of thing. Those types of hits are loud and draw crowds... which also works well as cover. But all of those would take time to set up, and if he was conscious of the fuck-up with the car, time would be of the essence.”

  “So what would you do?” Hawking repeated. “You said you wouldn’t want to wait. So if you had a short window, how would you go at him?”

  Frowning, Black continued to manipulate the maps, scanning through the satellite footage around the building, including all of the open spaces and the rows and rows of storage containers stacked up in the back lots behind the administrative building.

  “If I got stuck leaving a car with incriminating information in it like that, I probably would proceed to the target area right then.”

  Mozar stared at him, frowning. “What? You mean like last night?”

  “Yeah. Or this morning. I would enter before they had time to set up a perimeter, especially in a wide-open field like this.”

  Hawking and Mozar exchanged looks.

  “So you think he’s already there?” Mozar said.

  “It’s definitely possible. Like I said, I would be, if it were me.”

  “And how would you approach once you were inside?” Hawking said.

  Black didn’t look up from the map. Using the satellite function to view it from different angles, he remained silent a few beats longer. When he was satisfied, he placed a finger on the map, tapping the screen lightly to blow the area up.

  “There,” he said. “I’d come in early with a badge, but I’d avoid the target building. Stay around the loading areas and the docks... avoid the cameras. So it’s likely a workman’s badge and clothes you’d be looking for. He would have stashed the gun early to blend in.”

  Scanning the sight-lines to Sterling’s specific office, he ran a line from there to the stacks of storage crates, then tapped his finger again, showing an area of the back lot.

  “I’d probably set up there.” He moved his finger again, to a different direct-line shot. “...Or maybe here.” He moved it again. “...Or here.” He moved it again. “...Or possibly over here.”

  Hawking stared at where his fingers drew the lines, and Black could almost feel the wheels turning in his mind. He also felt a pulse of grudging respect.

  “You’d hit him from outside the building?”

  Black nodded. “Why not? At night, it’s the ideal shot. Great visibility. You’ve got good sight lines from the height of those crates, and it’s highly unlikely you’d be seen up there, at least not before you got off the first shot. You’ve also got a hell of a lot of places to hide after you’ve taken out the target. During the day, it would be easy to conceal a rifle either on one of the higher crates or in some kind of storage container people are used to seeing down here. Get in early, set up, wait, hit him, melt away. It’s the lowest risk approach.”

  Shrugging without looking up from the map, Black added, “I’d be willing to bet the acoustics would be on his side too, with all that metal. Big bangs like that tend to give their own breathing room... it’s one advantage of using a rifle. They echo in spaces like this, which makes it harder to pinpoint an exact location quickly. That buys him a few extra seconds, if not minutes, depending on how good your team is.”

  Mozar was already holding his phone by the time Black finished talking.

  Black heard him speak in a low voice to someone on the other end of the line. He told them to have people look at any of the crates with sight-lines affording a long-range sniper shot at Sterling’s office by a professional marksman.

  He also told them to assume their hitter was already there.

  “What else?” Mozar said, glancing over the seat at him.

  Black shrugged. “Well, if he’s using a drone, everything I said is useless. He could be anywhere then. But there are potential problems with a drone, too.”

  Mozar scowled. “What else if he doesn’t have a drone?”

  “I’d be fast. And I’d have a way out.”

  “Like what?” Hawking said. “The SWAT guys said no boats. They’re too loud.”

  Mozar gave Hawking a skeptical glance. “No way can he drive out of there. There’s only one road, in and out.”

  “He doesn’t need to drive.”

  “So you think he’d do a boat, even with the noise?” Hawking said.

  Black looked at him, unable to keep the disbelief off his face.

  “Jesus, you guys are stuck in 1990. Combustion engine boats are fucking loud. They aren’t the only boats. Assume this guy has money, okay? They have electric speed boats now... they even have
electronic PWCs that don’t make a fucking sound apart from the water they splash around.” Shrugging, he turned back to the map.

  “It’s still risky as fuck, of course... especially if he waits too long. He’d have to know Coast Guard and Port Police would be watching on both sides... but it’s still probably his best bet, especially if he has someplace safe he can get to in a hurry, even just if it’s another boat. Of course, you could paddle in a combustion engine, too. They’ve even done that in military black ops, and it might be worth it for a team... but one guy? It’s pretty risky for one guy. You told me to assess for one guy. I’m thinking he’d get out on his own or with a pick-up crew. That, or he’s a really damned good swimmer.”

  “But you’d go out by the water?”

  Black shrugged again. “There are a lot more options that way. I’d look for something small and maneuverable... where he could use the bigger ships for cover. One of those electric water bikes, maybe. If I really needed to get out tonight, I’d probably have a car waiting in one of these places...”

  He tapped the road near one of the biggest beaches, then again at the pier in Long Beach, and another beach further south. He glanced at Hawking.

  “Or maybe I’d catch a few hours’ sleep in one of the tens of thousands of storage crates stacked up in these few square miles... work a few hours at the docks in the morning with the rest of the crew. Catch a ride out with the next shift change.”

  Mozar stared at him, his blue eyes incredulous. “We’d check badges of every single worker leaving the island.”

  Black shrugged. “So? I don’t see photos on those badges... and he’d likely kill or incapacitate the person he’d stolen his from. Do you have any idea how many people work out here? I haven’t seen anything in what Hawking gave me from the Port Police that indicates they require photo I.D. for regular dock workers, just swipe cards. And if they do have photo I.D., he’d have planned for that. Chances are, he would’ve found someone he could pass for, or replaced the I.D. information entirely with his own... assuming he went through the security gate at all. Your problem is, he’s likely had weeks of planning on this, and you’ve got a few hours. You really should have the Port Police on this. Directly, I mean.”