Narc - Debt Collector 7 (A Jack Winchester Thriller)

by Jon Mills

  “Me? No. Hell, I should have been locked up by now. If it wasn’t for you I would be rotting away inside a maximum security prison.” He breathed in deeply and studied the way a band of warm light created shadows on her face. Up close, her eyes looked even greener than they were in the light of day. The previous week had been nothing short of perfect. When they weren’t tangled up with each other beneath bedsheets, they would take the boat up to Everglades City, and browse the market, drink coffee, eat at fine restaurants and return late in the evening. Every day they learned something new about each other. Neither one was in a rush, neither one had expectations of what it would become. They just lived in the moment, enjoying each other’s company.

  “Get moving!” a SWAT guy bellowed in Jack’s ear as he was forced into a boat. He didn’t expect Isabel to follow but she did. As much as he wanted to look at her, he kept his eyes downcast. If she wasn’t involved in instigating his capture, he certainly didn’t want to raise any suspicion. It wasn’t a far stretch of the imagination to assume that they had put her under surveillance. After his escape from the bureau, he figured they would be keeping a close eye on her. He’d warned her but she was confident that they were done chasing him. Perhaps it was foolish to start a relationship with her. Everything seemed clearer in hindsight.

  A familiar-looking FBI agent stepped into the boat and patted a SWAT guy on the back. He congratulated him on a job well done. “No loss of life. Suspect detained without injury. That’s why they pay you the big bucks, right?”

  “Oh yeah, I’m still waiting on that bonus.”

  He chuckled and then sat across from Jack as the motor roared to life and they pulled away into the night. As water churned over behind them leaving a frothy white wake, Jack glanced up for a second time. He’d seen him before. He thought back to when he’d been brought in. What was his name? His eyes met the agent and he had this smug look plastered all over him.

  “Jack Winchester. Damn, you really have been one pain in the ass.” He leaned forward in his seat and occasionally would shift to the side as the boat hit some choppy waves. “I’ve been meaning to ask you this ever since you escaped. How did you do it? Huh?”

  Jack didn’t respond. His eyes darted briefly towards Isabel and then back to the other agent.

  “By the way, I’m Agent Thorpe.” He extended his hand and then broke into a smile. “Oh right, you are a little tied up at the moment. But no, seriously, how did you do it?”

  The agent looked over to Isabel and then shook his head. “So many secrets. Well, rest assured this time there won’t be any fire alarms going off, or doors left unlocked.” His eyes flitted back and forth. He stared intently at Jack, never breaking his gaze.

  “You’re already acquainted with Agent Baker, am I right?”

  Again Jack didn’t say a word.

  “Of course.” He continued giving that smug grin that Jack wanted to wipe off his face.

  The rest of the journey was spent in silence. Upon reaching the mainland Jack was escorted to a waiting vehicle and then whisked off to the bureau. All the while he had to endure having Isabel nearby.

  Upon arriving at the bureau he was taken to an interview room. They cuffed him to the table, and several agents watched over him. Jack turned and looked at the one-way mirror. Were they observing him? Was Isabel behind there?

  He breathed in deeply and occasionally glanced at the agents standing either side of the door. They were taking every precaution necessary. He couldn’t believe that only an hour ago he was drinking a beer and thinking of reading a book and having an early night.

  The door opened and Agent Thorpe came in. He was holding a folder in one hand and a coffee in the other. He motioned with his head to both agents and told them to wait outside. Once they were gone he took a seat across from Jack and pulled out a packet of cigarettes.

  “Smoke?”

  Jack glanced at the No Smoking sign on the wall. He must have noticed as he smirked.

  “Rules. I never imagined you were one for following the rules, Jack. I can call you Jack, right?”

  Jack shrugged. He couldn’t care less.

  “Can I get you coffee?”

  “Nope.”

  “Soda perhaps?”

  “A lawyer,” Jack spat back.

  That only made him laugh. “There isn’t a lawyer in this country that would take your call right now.”

  “Everyone has rights.”

  “Yeah they do. But you gave those up the moment you slipped out of here.”

  Jack shuffled in his chair. The cuffs were cutting into his wrists. The dick who had put them on had purposely made them extra tight.

  “Well let’s get down to business, shall we.” He took a sip of his coffee and opened the folder. Jack glanced at it and noticed it was full of paperwork and a few photos.

  “Do you recognize any of these individuals?”

  He twisted the photos around and slid them in front of Jack.

  “I think you know I do.”

  “So I would be right in saying that you have ample experience in drug trafficking?”

  He shook his head. “Shouldn’t I be getting a phone call around about now?”

  “There’s no need.”

  “Why?”

  “That will be explained shortly. For now, tell me. Were you involved in the distribution of heroin and cocaine in the New Jersey area while working for Roy Gafino?”

  Jack breathed in deeply and glanced up at the camera.

  “It’s not on. You are not being recorded. This is off the record.”

  Jack’s brow knit together. What game was he playing?

  “What about this guy?”

  Thorpe placed before him a photo of several key individuals that were involved in Gafino’s operation. The sale of drugs made up a large portion of Gafino’s profits at one time. He usually dealt with the drug cartels directly but when things got hot, he wouldn’t think twice about calling up the Outlaws Motorcycle Club in Florida. He wasn’t going to discuss their dealings or what was purchased. He had too much respect for the club, besides a number of them were friends of his.

  “Listen, I did my time.”

  “Right, for a drug deal that went bad.”

  “If you know that, then why are we having this conversation?”

  “Because the bureau would like to use your services.”

  A look of confusion spread across Jack’s face.

  “You want to hire me?”

  “Something like that.”

  Chapter Five

  Work for the FBI? Jack was unable to comprehend what he was hearing. Was this a joke? If it was, he certainly wasn’t laughing. He leaned forward in his seat.

  “Let me get this straight. You’re not planning on sending me to prison?”

  “Not exactly.” Agent Thorpe rose to his feet and began to pace. “Though that depends on your answer.”

  “What? Whether I’ll work for the FBI or not?”

  He nodded and Jack shook his head. “You really are out of your mind.”

  “Maybe, but right now you’re the one in cuffs.”

  Jack breathed out heavily. “Maybe I will get that drink.”

  Thorpe went over to the door and asked someone to get another coffee.

  “You take milk?”

  “No, just black.”

  Thorpe returned to the table and sat back down. He offered Jack a cigarette again and he took one. Jack’s eyes flitted to the one-way mirror and then back at him as Thorpe lit it.

  He sniffed. “Okay, just out of curiosity, let’s say I was interested. What does it involve?”

  “Do you know how many informants work for the bureau, Jack?” Thorpe asked.

  He shrugged.

  “Before 9/11 there were 1,500, now there are 15,000. Most of which are criminals and con men, like yourself.”

  “Why would the bureau hire criminals?”

  “Because unfortunately they possess skill traits that cannot be taught in the academy.
It’s formed on the streets. They know how to blend in with the criminal element and establish trust because they are used to dealing with the likes of those that we seek to capture. Besides, we just don’t have the time. The bureau has changed a lot since 9/11. It’s shifted from an investigative agency to an intelligence agency. We have only eight profilers for the entire country. As much as we are still involved in different investigations, our focus has shifted to terrorism.”

  “But you’re the FBI. It’s your job.”

  He chuckled. “Of course, unfortunately our hands are tied more than you know.” He paused and stared intently at Jack. “Listen, there are over 17,000 law enforcement agencies in this country. Most rely on a pretty standard records management system. The only way for us to identify commonalities is with VICAP.”

  “V what?”

  “The Violent Criminal Apprehension Program. It’s a unit and database that is involved in the analysis of serial violent and sexual crimes. Think of it like this. Serial homicides can all be linked together by their signature aspects. VICAP is designed to track and cross-reference data on violent crimes, specifically murder. This database is used by state and local law enforcement. Most of the data being inputted is related to sexual assaults, solved and unsolved homicides, missing people and unidentified persons. While it can be very effective, it has limitations. VICAP is not mandatory. Meaning, law enforcement agencies don’t have to input into the database. Which of course can mean the difference between making or breaking a case.” He took a sip of his coffee and continued. “There are thousands of cold cases, thousands of unsolved homicides, thousands of unidentified bodies and missing people, every year.”

  Jack shrugged. “So?”

  Thorpe leaned back in his chair. “We know your involvement in offering services to the public. We are familiar with how you rescued that girl from the cult in the Amazon, and saved those kids from that pedophile ring. It’s those kind of skills that we need.”

  Jack scoffed and looked at the one-way mirror again, however this time he stuck his middle finger up at it. “Guessing your boss is behind there?” Jack asked before he turned back and mouthed the words, “Fuck you.”

  “How much do you get paid for taking on these cases? Twenty thousand? Fifty?”

  “How much do you get paid?” Jack replied with a cheeky grin on his face.

  “The bureau is willing to pay you over two hundred and fifty thousand for every case you take.”

  Jack nearly spat out his coffee. “You must think I’m really stupid. Is this how you get people to confess? Huh? Bringing in a folder of faces from New York. Coming up with some bullshit story about a deal being on the table. How about you do this? Go tell your bosses they are going to have to try a little harder than that if they think I’m going to say another word.”

  Thorpe nodded and sighed. “I kind of figured you would go this route.” He screeched his chair back and left the room. Jack sat there in silence puffing on his cigarette and occasionally taking a sip of his coffee. The nerve of these assholes. He glanced at the clock. It was a little after ten-thirty. By now he should have been fast asleep in his warm bed dreaming of fishing, instead he was talking to a suit about crap. If they were going to lock him up, he just wanted them to get on with it. At least then he would be able to sleep.

  Outside the interview room, Thorpe joined two other agents to discuss the situation. Stuart Carson looked as if he had been sewn into his shirt. He had a thick mustache that reminded him of Tom Selleck. If he wasn’t working, he was in the gym. He’d been on at Thorpe for months about working out together. The guy didn’t seem to grasp the concept that no meant no. Thorpe liked to stay in shape but Carson’s idea was lifting an insane amount of weights and sucking down all manner of strange protein drinks. Then there was Darnell Moore, an African American who took his job far too seriously. He was the kind of man that you could tell a joke and he would stare at you with a blank expression as if he didn’t get it. He might have lacked humor but he made up for it with brains. At least, that’s what he said.

  “That’s twenty bucks you owe me,” Carson said with his hand out. “I told you he wasn’t going to agree. So come on, cough it up.”

  Thorpe slapped the hand out of his face. “It’s not over yet.”

  “Oh come on. You can’t possibly think that he is going to agree to this?”

  “It’s all about motivation. Isn’t that right, Thorpe?” Moore said.

  Thorpe put his finger up. “Exactly.”

  He was waiting on Isabel to arrive. All three of them stood there looking at Winchester through the mirror. He was a cocky bastard but that was one of the reasons why Thorpe liked him. He didn’t reek of desperation like some of the assholes that the bureau had hired to be informants. This guy honestly thought he was innocent and didn’t think he needed to strike a bargain.

  A knock at the door made Thorpe twist around. Carson opened it and Isabel stood there with a smile on her face.

  “Agent Baker.”

  Her eyes darted to Winchester behind the mirror. “Managed to get anything out of him?”

  “No, that’s where I was hoping you would be able to help. Come with me.”

  Thorpe went back into the interview room. Jack immediately perked up at the sight of Isabel. Oh yeah, he was screwing her for sure, he thought. Perfect. That was exactly the kind of reaction he wanted to get. This was going to be like taking a rattle from a baby. “All smooth sailing from here on out,” Thorpe muttered as he took his seat.

  “What’s that?” Jack asked.

  “Oh nothing. Please, Agent Baker, take a seat.”

  “I’d prefer to stand.”

  “Suit yourself.” He looked back at Winchester who was picking at his cup and acting as if he hadn’t ever seen her before.

  “I was just explaining to Jack here that the bureau wants to offer him a deal. Instead of us sending him to appear before a court, and then receive a sentence that would most likely place him behind bars for the remainder of his days, the —”

  “On what charge?” Jack asked.

  “Charge? Charges? Do I really have to list them or can we stop bullshitting one another?”

  Jack gnawed at his cheek.

  “A deal?” Isabel asked looking confused. Thorpe observed them both like lab rats. He noted the way Jack glanced up as if trying to gauge whether or not she knew about it.

  “That’s right. He would be working as an informant. And would be assisting us with the Everglades murders.”

  “The three women?”

  “Exactly.”

  Isabel pointed towards the door. “Do you mind if we speak in private?”

  “I don’t think that will be necessary, Agent Baker. Whatever you need to say, I think your partner should know.”

  Her brow knit together and her jaw dropped ever so slightly. “Partner?”

  Oh he was loving this. “Of course, I mean you work so well together, it just seems like it would make sense to continue. Unless you would prefer that I show these photos to the review board.”

  Thorpe flipped the corner on the folder in front of him and slid out the photos of Winchester and Isabel together. Her eyes closed and Thorpe’s lip curled up. Checkmate, he thought. He glanced at Winchester and noted a similar reaction. Thorpe placed the photos back into the folder and closed it.

  “Now that we have that out of the way, how about we get down to the specifics of what both of you will be doing? Rest assured, Jack. Nothing has changed. You will still be paid for your services. The only difference is that you will now work for us.”

  Isabel crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall.

  “For how long?”

  “For however long the bureau sees fit to keep you on as an employee.”

  “And…”

  Before he could spit it out, Thorpe answered him. “And if you attempt to run, Isabel here will not only lose her job but she will go before the court and trust me when I say that they will not look kindl
y upon her extracurricular activities.”

  Isabel glared at the floor.

  “Oh please, Agent Baker, you couldn’t have been so naïve to think that we wouldn’t have placed you under surveillance after what happened. Jack might be many things but he’s not a ghost, and he’s had plenty of opportunities to get out of those cuffs, and escape this room but… Here we are still. Isn’t that strange?” He glanced at Jack. “Now I would ask why you did it. But I guess the photos explain that. Now, Agent Baker, I don’t want you to lose any sleep over this. As far as I’m concerned, I couldn’t care less how or why or when it all happened. I’m sure you have your reasons. What matters now is how we move ahead from here.”

  The tension in the room could have been sliced, it was that thick.

  “What do you want?” Jack asked.

  “There have been a series of murders. Female bodies that have turned up in the Everglades. They are all local prostitutes, at least that’s about all we’ve been able to dig up on them so far.”

  “I don’t get it. We have a database full of Jane Does. Most of which were prostitutes. Why would the bureau be interested in them?” Isabel said.

  “It’s not. We believe they were possibly linked to a large amount of drugs that are making their way into Miami. The bureau wants you to look into it. See what you can find out.”

  “And how do I come into all of this?”

  “Jack here is going to need an inroad, a cover story. You’re going to be it.”

  “What?”

  “You’re going undercover.”

  “Doing what?”

  Thorpe thumbed the folder and turned it back over. “Doing what you are good at.”

  His eyes met hers and he could see the rage. She knew what he was implying. Lying, sleeping with people. It was all the same to him. Her hands balled and he smirked. That was the beauty of this situation. Neither one of them had a choice in the matter. It was either work for the FBI or go to prison. Thorpe rose from the table and adjusted the folders into an orderly pile before turning to Isabel.

  “I’m sure you both have a lot to catch up on. You’ll start as soon as I have the details.”