Counterfeit Road dbr-2

by Kirk Russell

  Her anger toward him softened a little. ‘You believe there’s an assassination plot, don’t you?’

  ‘I don’t know what I believe yet. I can’t quite make the cabinet shop murders fit in with a quietly evolving assassination plot. Brooks believes the attempt will come when the President is riding on the light rail car.’

  ‘But if he’s not coming it doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Between the FBI and the Secret Service there’s a belief the plotters are some long range planners. They’ve showed me a few transcripts, Coe in particular.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound like the FBI.’

  ‘Coe is a different cut and a younger generation.’

  ‘So Brooks thinks they’ll just move it somewhere else?’

  ‘That’s right, and they believe it’s referred to as the “first event.” Because of Krueger carrying those same series counterfeit bills and Casey’s connection to Krueger, they’ve tapped Casey’s phone lines.’

  ‘They can do that?’

  ‘They can do whatever they want. Coe called me this morning and told me that.’

  ‘The Secret Service and FBI really believe there was or is a plot to assassinate the President here?’

  ‘They do and there’s worry the plotters have contacts within the Fed law enforcement agencies. There’s a reason the Secret Service didn’t get invited to the bomb casing bust.’

  ‘How much of this do you believe?’

  ‘I don’t know yet. Like all these conspiracy ideas it’s grown long legs and if it exists it’s probably just a handful of people. Is there a leak from a sympathizer or from someone well-placed? That’s hard to say from where we stand. They’ve brought me in because of the overlap with the counterfeit bills and to make me more cooperative. But they do believe something is in motion. They believed it before those bomb casings but they don’t have any way to tie the bomb casings to their previous suspicions. That’s where it stands.’

  They watched the light rail car approach and the darkness of what Raveneau had described sank in more. She watched the rail car and a tourist taking photos with his phone. The car was light and clattered as it passed by. How do you protect a President from a determined group with weapons like these bombs? You couldn’t do it. It was nearly impossible.

  FORTY-FOUR

  That afternoon Coe showed Raveneau four computer-generated simulations of blast scenarios an Army bomb unit created for the FBI using the dimensions of the missing casings, the probable explosives type, and with close time-proximity detonation sequence. Four San Francisco street scenarios showed, ranging from a near open street configuration along the wider waterfront to a narrow street in Chinatown with buildings on either side capable of partial reflection of the blast waves. The merging waves would generate compression forces the Army calculated would kill in the hundreds and possibly thousands if detonated on crowded streets.

  But that was actually good news because the bomb casings were shaped to direct the force of the blast and propel a slug of metal forward. Could they penetrate a Presidential limousine? They weren’t sure or if they knew they weren’t answering.

  When Raveneau returned to the Cold Case office Ortega walked over from the main Homicide office to talk to him. He sat in la Rosa’s chair and summarized where the investigation stood with the cabinet shop shootings. Raveneau had heard the rumor and now he got it straight from Ortega.

  ‘The cab driver who killed Khan and his wife was located last night but no arrest is being made yet. He got ID’ed off prints and photo enhancement from video at the airport. His name is Cleg Mathis.’

  ‘Spell that.’

  ‘C–L-E-G, it’s as stupid as it sounds. He’s six foot four and two hundred thirty pounds according to his driver’s license, but he’s actually bigger. Black hair, black eyes, a black heart — he’s one of those weird ones. He moved here from New Jersey where his business was doing fine but he was getting too much attention. Here, take a look.’

  Ortega showed him two photos.

  ‘He was suspected of doing work for the Russian mob and had to leave Jersey. The FBI already has a file on him. He’s known as a freak who likes to kill. He gets off on it. The garrote he used on Khan dug several inches into his throat.’

  Ortega paused.

  ‘If this is a sophisticated group cleaning up behind itself and severing ties, how does a Mathis fit in? Here, take a look at these.’

  The first shot was a photo of a finger lying on a tile floor.

  ‘Khan’s finger?’

  ‘You guessed correctly. You win the finger. Do you want to gamble the finger and try for something larger?’

  ‘Khan’s head was still attached, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Barely, that’s how strong Mathis is. The Feds say he lifted Khan right off his feet and on two previous hits he’s a suspect in the same thing happened. After a murder in New Jersey he walked into a restaurant with a bloody shirt on and ordered lunch. No shit, that’s in the Fed file. They think he likes the squirming, the struggle, the control, before he starts really sucking that wire in. Now would the bombers you picture have access to someone like Mathis? If they did, would they use him or would they hire someone a little more conventional? The roll-up the carpet behind them theory isn’t working for me. I can’t see them hiring a guy they must know is going to get arrested.’

  ‘When is he getting picked up?’

  ‘I don’t mean they know where he is now. He didn’t return to his apartment. But the Feds are looking for him much harder than they look for some people. I think they’ll catch up to him. They’ve got more and more agents involved, but your friend Coe isn’t saying much at the task force meetings any more. At yesterday’s meeting he didn’t say a word.’

  Ortega was probably good in the meetings. He was focused. Raveneau asked now about DNA results that as far as he knew they were still waiting for.

  ‘Did you get anything back on the water cooler cups?’

  ‘Just got it yesterday and that’s part of why I’m here. One paper cup discarded near the water cooler had DNA that didn’t match Khan, Drury, or any of the victims.’

  ‘Did we test the paramedics?’

  ‘You know, we got swabs but good point, I didn’t see their names on the excluded. I’ll check that.’

  A thirsty paramedic may have gotten a drink of water before leaving with the fourth victim. Raveneau doubted that, but it needed to be checked. A cardboard box for empties sat alongside the water cooler. It was full and three or four of the empties had fallen out and were on the floor. Having nothing they had to check everything and the white paper cups, particularly those on top were gathered up. Khan told them there were no visitors the morning of the shooting so Raveneau figured the cups on top were most likely the victims’, Khan’s, or Drury’s.

  ‘In the hits Mathis is suspected of was a gun ever used?’ Raveneau asked.

  ‘The Feds say yes, so it could be he came through the cabinet shop and they hired him to take out Khan and his wife as well. You’re the one who guessed the shooter took some pleasure in the killing. That fits with Mathis. What do you think?’

  ‘He’s big. How did he get in the building?’

  Ortega had an answer for that. He’d been thinking about it.

  ‘Whoever the shooter was, Khan let them in early in the morning before the employees arrived. The shooter hid where no one would look and that’s how the tight window worked. He knew when Khan was leaving to measure the kitchen job and about the delivery and to listen for the forklift.’

  ‘Where do you hide a six foot four man in the shop?’

  ‘In that locked closet near Khan’s office. Khan locked him in there and then unlocked the door before he left. The employees knew they weren’t supposed to ever get in that cabinet. Khan told us that on the first interview. I think Mathis sat on the floor of the closet for five or six hours. But think about it, Ben. I want your opinion. I’ll check with you later.’

  FORTY-FIVE

  Raveneau
rode with Goya in Goya’s old gray Toyota. They drove past Marlin Thames’s blue-painted Victorian on Twenty-Second Street, and then to a cafe in the Noe Valley where they took the lone outdoor table. Inside it was steamy and warm. Outside, the sun was out though probably just for a short while. The street was still wet from the last shower. A strong gust shook droplets from the awning, but it was going to be a lot easier to talk out here than in the crowded steamy interior. Raveneau went back in to get the sandwiches and coffee.

  When he returned Goya was sitting at the table looking like a bespectacled Don Quixote and if Goya was having second thoughts about what he was accomplishing, so was Raveneau. But he still felt Goya’s presence mattered and Becker figured out a way to pay him something. He had to sign about a dozen waivers first.

  ‘I met Thames,’ Raveneau said. ‘Anyone would like him. The real estate deal was thirty some years ago and he settled with the IRS during one of their amnesty deals. He made a mistake and paid for it. He’s got his vintage furniture business and a life he likes and I’m sure it’s all legit, but in Hawaii Thomas Casey told me that Thames was there with Krueger in 1989. Thames told me they broke up in 1986 and saw little of each other after that. That’s too big a gap to be accidental. If Casey is telling the truth then there’s a good chance Thames is lying to us.’

  ‘Or maybe he’s just mixing up the years.’

  ‘He sounded confident about his dates.’

  Goya shrugged. He was still spooked about his old partner’s memory loss and underlying that was some worry about his own. Raveneau recounted Casey’s story of the visit by Krueger and Thames.

  ‘He told me that was the last time he saw Krueger alive. According to him that was in October 1988 and he sure sounded like he had his dates right.’

  ‘Well, I don’t like this Thames. I think he lied to you. When he was Howard Wright he cheated elderly people out of their last years.’

  Raveneau nodded. He and Goya had already been over the real estate fraud several times and there wasn’t anywhere new to go with it today. He wanted to nudge Goya off it.

  ‘I know, the old people are your people, and he sold them land with alligators on it so you’re out for vengeance, but focus on where he lived with Alan Krueger. We want to know where Krueger stayed when he traveled through San Francisco in ’89. See if you can figure that out.’

  ‘I’m trying.’

  Raveneau took a bite of the sandwich. It was on a baguette and not loaded up with fifty different things. He liked that. Celeste was toying with the idea of small sandwiches at night and discounting them after nine o’clock to draw people in. He ate and as Goya talked about losing his edge Raveneau began to understand that Henry didn’t want to go forward. He didn’t see himself as being of any value as an investigator, but neither did he want this to end in failure so they left it that he would try to locate the Secret Service agent who ruined Krueger’s career. Then they would meet and work out the next step.

  When Raveneau got back to the Hall of Justice the Homicide office was emptying out and in the Cold Case Unit he’d missed a redtail hawk that landed on the window sill and stayed for several hours. Ryan Candel was waiting for him.

  ‘Have you been waiting long?’

  ‘Not that long.’

  They moved into the kitchen. He got Candel a soda and they sat at the table.

  ‘I connected with Matt on Facebook. We’re going to meet up. He’s over here with his coffee business pretty regular.’

  ‘How regular?’

  ‘Every month or so. He posted some photos for me. I thought you might want to see them. That’s why I came by.’

  ‘OK, let’s go back to my computer.’

  There were more beach shots. There were shots of his brother as a teenager swimming with turtles and then many the younger Frank took of his dad and his dad’s friends. This is where it got interesting.

  ‘One of his interests is photography,’ Candel said. ‘See, he lists it.’

  Another one is guns, Raveneau thought, but that wasn’t listed. Candel turned to him.

  ‘You’re not on Facebook, right?’

  ‘Me, no.’

  ‘Your partner is. I saw her name.’

  ‘Why don’t you friend her?’

  ‘Wouldn’t matter, she still wouldn’t be able to view these photos. They’re limited to me. I asked for any with our dad and everything about Hawaii. There are a couple hundred photos and I’m cool if you just want to take your time. I’ve got to make some calls on a music gig.’

  Raveneau heard him talking but focused on the photos and didn’t register any words. The photos were old enough for Matt Frank to have been under ten years old taking these. They probably thought he was cute with his camera. He took a lot of facial shots which was lucky. There must have been more than fifty of Jim Frank in various moods. Most of those were solo shots, but others had people in them. When he saw Shay and Shay looked like he was young and in his twenties, Raveneau leaned back in his chair thinking about it.

  He heard Candel on the phone talking in a cool affected voice, a young man still finding himself. He looked back at the computer monitor. Did Matt Frank feed them to Candel knowing that Candel was going to bring them here? Of course, he did.

  A half dozen of the photos were of Captain Jim Frank with an arm around Matt Frank. Raveneau saw in the boy’s face how much it meant to him to have his dad drape an arm around him. He wondered if he felt that way any more. Several photos were of the memorial with the stacked lava stone and one there with a young woman. It struck him from the way she touched the lava memorial that she had arranged the lava in its sculpture. He realized she must be the half Japanese, half Hawaiian artist Casey talked about. He clicked to the next and she was looking out toward the ocean with tears reflecting in sunlight on her cheeks.

  Raveneau got absorbed in another set of photos, several of which were of a younger Thomas Casey. He looked up as Candel tapped him on the shoulder.

  ‘How’s it coming, dude?’

  ‘There’s a young woman in here. I’d like to know her name.’

  ‘I saw her. She’s hot.’

  ‘Ask him her name.’

  ‘That’s easy.’

  ‘And see if you can find out when he took most of these.’

  ‘Why don’t you sign up and I’ll see if he’s cool about adding you.’

  ‘Or my partner since she’s already signed up.’

  ‘Yeah, maybe, want me to text him?’

  ‘Sure.’

  An answer came back within seconds.

  ‘He says that’s fine.’

  ‘What’s fine, friending la Rosa or do I have to sign up?’

  ‘Oh, yeah, right, hang on.’ Raveneau heard the return ping. ‘He wants you to sign up.’

  ‘What’s the matter with my partner’s page?’

  ‘Want me to ask?’

  ‘No, I’ll sign up.’

  ‘I’ll help you. It won’t take long.’

  It didn’t and then it didn’t matter because Matt Frank didn’t respond. Raveneau shut his computer down. He knew there was something more Candel needed to say and it came out as they left the Hall.

  ‘Matt said it got weird after you left that day. His uncle is seriously angry about you going into Dad’s house. He also ripped him for showing you the memorial. He told Matt he’ll be the reason his dad’s remains end up in a box in some police storage building. His uncle doesn’t think much of the police, dude. And he gets super tweaked when people show up uninvited and blow off the No Trespassing signs on the gate.

  ‘But still, Matt’s pretty cool about his uncle. He said he owes him for just about everything. He said Dad acted closer to people he had just met than him, that he liked new people more than he liked people he knew, but Uncle Thomas isn’t like that. His uncle is his main investor in the coffee thing.’

  ‘Ask him how his uncle made his money.’

  ‘I already know. They had land, dude, like a whole lot of it.’

&n
bsp; ‘Where?’

  ‘I don’t know, but it wasn’t in Hawaii. He like sold land here and bought that ranch. He says his uncle has megabucks. But bottom line is Uncle Casey is planning to get even with you.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘I don’t really know. He told Matt to do like a video of what he saw when he went up to our dad’s house and you were there. Matt was supposed to FedEx it out today.’

  ‘Did he?’

  ‘Yeah, I think he did.’

  ‘So it’s on its way here?’

  ‘Yeah, like FedExing to your boss, whoever that is. He said it would get here tomorrow.’

  FORTY-SIX

  Late that night a new storm out of the Gulf of Alaska arrived and this one lived up to the hype. When the phone rang at 3:00 a.m. Raveneau automatically reached for it as he had so many years when he was on-call. But it was the alarm company calling for Celeste to tell her the power was out. It was out here too and on the roof the cold rain blew sideways and he didn’t see any lights on south of Market Street.

  By 5:3 °Celeste was anxious to get to the bar, worried about food spoiling with the small walk-in and the refrigerators down. The power was still on where her chef, Bo, lived and she wanted to get crab meat and a few of the more delicate things over to his refrigerator. Raveneau drove with her and loaded the food in the back of his car. It was raining so hard he barely heard his cell ringing when he got in his car.

  ‘Is that rain?’ Coe asked.

  ‘It is.’

  ‘Well, that’s not good. Drury wants to talk to you. I want to get you on a flight this morning out of SFO. I’ll be going with you.’

  ‘Going where?’

  ‘Colorado. He’s at ADX Florence.’

  ‘What plane is going to take off in this weather? SFO will be backed up for hours.’

  ‘We’ll get out on the corporate side. How are you with turbulence?’

  ‘Oh, I love bouncing around in the air not knowing if the plane is going to come apart. That’s my idea of fun.’