He nodded and then drew his service weapon—a Glock 23. He held it at high-ready position, then he took a deep breath before bolting around the corner and dashing through the doorway. I was right on his heels, my 1911 at low ready, my head on the proverbial swivel. I didn’t see Laskin anywhere. We reached the mechanical building and huddled up to the wall next to Greg.
Greg gestured for the remaining team members to hold in place. Then he pointed to me and indicated that he wanted me to circle right around the mechanical room. He was going to circle left. He had Miguel hold in position.
I moved out. What had been a drizzle had now turned into a light rain, but I noticed this more because of what it did to visibility than the fact that I was slowly getting drenched. In fact, if there was any kind of moon out, it was completely blocked by the clouds. Below us, I heard rush-hour traffic sounds from all sides, sounds that tended to blend together with the million raindrops falling on the roof, making a low hum. I moved forward and reached the edge of the mechanical room. I peeked around the corner. To the right was an air vent, perhaps three feet tall, the kind that made a little upside-down U to keep the rain out. It was made of sheet metal, so it would offer no cover. But it was decent concealment and that made it my objective.
I glanced back at Miguel and then at Greg beyond. Greg waved at me. He pointed to himself, then held his hand over his eyes as if he were shielding them from the rain; he tapped his wrist, grabbed his throat, and pointed around the corner he was standing behind. Translation: I see the enemy and a hostage to my left.
I gave him an okay sign. I understood. Thank goodness the police seemed to use the same hand signals I’d learned in the army.
I answered back. I pointed to myself, then made a sweeping motion with my hand like a reverse karate chop—low, moving forward. Then I made a T with my hands. Translation: I’m moving up to the corner. New target. He gave me an okay sign, and I took off. I reached the edge of the building a couple seconds later, and I peeked around. Sure enough, Laskin was standing near the edge of the building. He had a tight grip on Libby with his left hand. Even with the poor viz, I could see that his right hand held a big, nasty handgun, maybe a Desert Eagle .44 or even a .50. No wonder the bullets had buzzed past us in the tunnel. They were like flying Toyotas. The air pressure alone could mess you up.
“Give it up, Laskin!” Greg yelled from his side. “It’s all over. No need for anyone to get hurt up here!”
“Get back!” Laskin yelled in his heavily accented voice. “I’ll kill her!”
I peeked around and saw another air vent, this one closer. New target.
“Don’t do that!” Greg yelled back at Laskin. “That’s not going to help you. Let’s just talk for a minute.”
Thinking Laskin might be distracted, I slipped from behind the building and moved toward the air vent. Unfortunately, Laskin wasn’t distracted. He saw me moving. Worse, his response was to turn that mighty cannon my way. A bolt of flame jumped toward me, and the bullet whizzed by like an angry hornet. Actually, it sounded like an Apache attack helicopter, only about a thousand times faster. God, don’t let it hit anybody. “Boom!” I hit the ground, or should I say, the roof gravel, and rolled. Just in time to see another bolt of flame. The bullet slammed into the air vent, six inches above my head just as the second “Boom!” split the night. Then, the most beautiful sound in the whole world. A very loud “Click!”
“He’s out!” I screamed. I jumped up immediately, my sidearm leveled, and sprinted toward him before he had a chance to reload.
As soon as I cleared the building, I saw Greg moving up as well. I ran up to within fifteen feet of Laskin, my weapon leveled, the safety off. “Drop it, Laskin!” I yelled.
“Ee-dee nah, hooy!” he yelled. Then he surprised me—he threw his gun at me. Wonders never cease. I dodged it easy enough.
“Stay back!” he yelled. “I throw the bitch off the building.” To emphasize his point, he looked over his shoulder and moved himself and Libby back, close to the edge of the roof.
“C’mon, Laskin!” I yelled. “Even if she goes over, where’s that leave you? How’s this going to help you?”
“Shut up, you!”
I glanced at Libby. She was essentially frozen. Laskin still had a tight grip on her right arm with his left hand. Her eyes looked straight at me, wide with terror. Through them, she seemed to be pleading for me to do something.
The trouble was, I didn’t have many options. Hitting Laskin and missing Libby from this distance was no problem. I was 100 percent confident I could make the shot. The problem was, Laskin had the two of them perched just a few inches from the edge of the roof. Even if I shot him, he’d likely take Libby over the edge with him. This was quickly turning into a nasty stalemate.
“Move away from the edge, Laskin!” Greg yelled. “Let her go!”
“I not go to jail for this bitch!” he yelled back, anger dripping from his voice. “She …”
He must have shifted or some other way loosened his grip on Libby, because she suddenly jerked her arm free from his grasp and immediately crouched down. Then, as he reached for her, she moved. Faster than I might have thought possible, she stood back up and elbowed him right in the chest with her right arm, hard.
Even with him unprepared, I didn’t think tiny little Libby would actually be able to move huge Laskin more than a step or so. All he had to do was shift his foot back a couple of inches to compensate, and he’d left himself that much between where he stood and the edge of the roof. Unfortunately for Laskin, he didn’t have that step. When she’d crouched down, Libby stuck her right leg out a little, just enough to wedge her shoe behind Laskin’s shoes, between him and the tiny ridge at the top of the flashing on the edge of the roof. When she’d elbowed him, she shoved his weight backward, just a bit. But with her shoe between his and the edge of the roof, his left foot was not able to take the necessary compensating backward step. She’d tripped him, which of course caused him to lose his balance. His mouth and his eyes flew open wide and his arms began to windmill. A look of terror appeared on his face as he reached for Libby. Unfortunately for him, but very fortunately for Libby, she’d already ducked and leaned forward again, out of his reach. Laskin extended his right leg out to the side, looking for balance, but the lateral move gave him no help. His foot landed on the slippery flashing at the roof’s edge and slipped out from under him. He tumbled backward off the roof into the darkness, screaming all the way down to the sidewalk, five floors below.
Time froze for a second, then we moved. Libby was still bent over, perilously close to the roof’s edge. I ran to her, reaching her at the same time Greg did. I grabbed her.
“Whoa!” I said, pulling her to me. “Move away from the edge, Libby!”
Her body literally shook as I led her ten feet away from the edge, away from danger.
“Oh my God!” she said. “Oh my God!” To my complete surprise, she broke away from me and ran back, straight over to the edge. Then she stopped and carefully looked over. “Asshole!” she screamed. I ran toward her again and wrapped my arms around her from behind. I turned her around.
“It’s over, Libby. You’re safe.”
“The fucker! He was going to kill me!”
“Not now,” I said. “Not now he isn’t.”
PART FOUR
Chapter 23
It’s always nice when a case reaches a satisfactory resolution. The client’s happy, the police are happy, and we’re happy—most of the time, anyway. Bad guys? They’re usually not happy but, then again, they bring it on themselves.
At the conclusion, my role switches as things return to a more normal mode. For example, the next morning I changed from “Danny Logan—Solver of Mysteries, Rescuer of Damsels in Distress” to “Danny Logan—Beleaguered Business Owner and Part-Time Counter of Beans.” I’d been working straight since 7:30 a.m. putting together a final bill for the Lyons, and I found myself growing increasingly frustrated. It wasn’t the numbers that were get
ting to me; they were pretty straightforward. But still, I had some nagging feelings that I couldn’t shake. Usually, this was because I like to wrap up every loose end in a case. Unfortunately, this isn’t a perfect world, and some cases end with open issues. For example, I figured there was a 99 percent chance that Laskin was the one behind the offers on the building. His death almost certainly meant that the offers—and the harassment—would stop. But there was still that nagging 1 percent. These things eat at me for a while, then they gradually fade. Meanwhile, our 9:00 a.m. wrap-up meeting was a welcome distraction. I wanted to be in a better mood in front of the troops, so I sucked it up.
Everyone was already seated when I walked into the conference room. From the happy chatter, I’d have to say the mood was almost festive. I looked at Toni, seated across the table from me, and I just shook my head. She shouldn’t even be here. Her ankle wasn’t broken, and that was a good thing, but it was badly sprained. She’d left Harborview last night sporting a soft cast and crutches along with an admonishment from Pri to rest it for a few days. Her interpretation of “rest” was probably different than Pri’s and she’d been zooming up and down the hall all morning long on her new crutches. I think she was trying to get Kenny to race her, for God’s sake. She stuck her tongue out at me.
“Let’s get started,” I said. “Couple things. First, I want to start by saying you’ve all done a great job on this case. The company performed really well, and I’m sure Mike and Sylvia appreciate what we did.”
“Hear! Hear!” Richard said.
I continued. “Next thing. The buddy system is canceled.”
Doc nodded. “Good.” He turned to Kenny. “No offense.”
Kenny shrugged. “None taken. I was tired of eating grasshoppers and rattlesnake anyway.”
Doc smiled and gave Kenny a salute with the middle finger that means the same thing in Apache as in English.
Toni started to ask a question when the office phone rang. Caller ID: Miguel.
I turned the phone around and punched the speakerphone button.
Miguel was nearly giddy. “Danny, Danny, Danny! Congratulations are in order, my man. Helluva job, helluva job! I talked to the captain this morning, and he said he’s going to recommend a commendation for you to the chief.”
I smiled. “That’s nice. I appreciate the thought.”
“No problem. Plus I’ve got news. I’ve got good news, and I’ve got some bad news. Which one you want first?”
“Good news!” Toni said.
“Hi, Toni!” Miguel said. “You feeling better?”
“I’m okay, thanks.”
“Excellent. Okay. Good news first. Last night after the showdown, we had a CSI Unit do a thorough search of Laskin’s shop. I just went through the listing, and you’ll never guess what they found in one of his desk drawers.”
“I give up.”
“You don’t even want to try?”
“Nope.”
“Geez. What a stick-in-the-mud. They found a file folder. Inside it were these three separate documents: contracts. Each of them reads ‘Offer and Acceptance Agreement for Real Property—King County, Washington.’ Each has a business card stapled to it: a Jeffrey R. Drake, Esquire. Seems the late Mr. Laskin had an interest in purchasing the Lyon Building.”
I perked up. “He did?”
“He did—some kind of interest, anyway. Unless I’m mistaken, there’s no way he would have had these unless—”
“Unless he had something to do with the offers,” I said, and smiled. “It was him, then.”
“You were worried about it, weren’t you?”
“A little, yeah.”
“Well, you can rest easy. You got your man.”
“Wow,” I said. “You know, suspecting someone of something and having it confirmed are two different things. It’s always a relief.”
“Damn straight. Now—you want the bad news? Actually, it’s more our bad news than yours.”
“What?” I asked.
“Well, you know that briefcase that the LA Russians brought with them?”
“Never actually saw it, but you mean the one with the $500,000 in unmarked bills?”
“Yep. That’s the one. We never saw it either because it turns out that it’s missing.”
“Really?”
“Believe me, dude,” he said. “I wouldn’t joke about something like this.”
“Damn. You sure it was there?”
“The DEA UA says it was definitely there. Says Mishkin gave it to Laskin, who took the case into the areaway and brought back the Blue Molly. Now, we can’t find the case.”
“It’s gotta be down there somewhere,” I said.
“I know. We’ve got a whole squadron down there now. The DEA is all over us—they’re saying it’s their bust and they want the money.”
“That figures,” I said. “They weren’t even there.”
“Welcome to life in my world,” Miguel said.
We said good-bye and hung up. I was about to say something when a movement in the parking lot caught my eye. I looked out the window and saw a familiar-looking black Hyundai parked in our lot. I watched it for a second, hardly able to believe what I was seeing.
“Son of a bitch,” I said, shaking my head and chuckling. “Oh, Toni? Guess who’s here to see you.”
She glanced at me, then spun her chair around to spy where I was looking. Kenny spun his around as well. Doc and Richard simply stood up so that they could see better.
“What am I looking for?” Richard asked.
“Black Hyundai, third row, second from the end,” Doc said almost immediately.
“Richard,” I said, “that, right there, is a strange little man. You’ve heard us joke about Toni’s husband?” I nodded. “Well, there he is. And the baffling thing is, I warned him once. Doc warned him—practically skewered him with his frog sticker. Toni dangled him upside down over the parking lot and threatened to drop him. But nothing works. This guy doesn’t seem to want to take no for an answer. He won’t leave Toni alone.” I reached for my coat. “Well, enough’s enough. I warned him about what was going to happen next.” I started for the door.
“Wait,” Toni said. “What are you going to do, macho man? Go down there and beat the shit out of him? Ever occur to you that that might be exactly what he wants? That he might be baiting you into doing just that? He might want you to go to jail, and waving a red flag in front of a macho bull like you would be a surefire way to do it, right?”
I looked at her. “Yeah. But what if I think that it’d be worth it?”
“Oh, come on, Danny. Just relax, okay? Why don’t you sit down and watch for a minute?”
I looked at her without speaking. I had no idea what she meant. “What do you mean?”
“Sit!” she commanded. “Won’t hurt you. He’s not going anywhere.” She turned to Kenny. “We’re ready, right?”
He nodded. “Hell, yeah. We’re hundred percent go.”
I looked at the two of them. “What are you guys up to?”
She ignored me and spun the conference room phone around. She punched in a number and a few seconds later, we heard, “Detective Nguyen.”
“Hey, Tommy, it’s Toni Blair.”
“Hey, Toni. I heard about your deal last night. You come out okay?”
I was confused. I’d never heard of Detective Tommy Nguyen.
“Yeah. I twisted my ankle, but I’m alright. Guess what?”
“I give.”
“He’s here.”
“He’s at your place? Right now?”
“Our office—can you believe it? You guys ready?”
“Hell yes. We’ll be there in five minutes.”
“He’s in a black Hyundai, third row from the front. Second car in from the water. You should block all the entrances.”
“Gotcha. Don’t come down until we’re there. I don’t want you to spook him.”
“See you in a minute.”
She hung up, then turned to me. “S
ee? I didn’t even have to hit anybody.”
I gave her a “What the hell?” look, but she just smiled, then stuck her tongue out at me, again. “Relax,” she said. “Sit down. Wait for the show to start.”
Sure enough, a few minutes later, an unmarked police car and two cruisers entered the lot from the south. Right behind them, another squad car pulled in sideways and blocked the lane, while still another did the same thing on the north entrance.
Toni leaned over, but Kenny popped up and grabbed her crutches. He helped her to her feet. Toni turned to me. “Shall we?”
* * * *
Because of her crutches, Toni was about to take the elevator downstairs. But the elevator is in the middle of the building, while the stairs are right outside our door. “To hell with that,” I said. I scooped her up in my arms. My shoulder didn’t hurt at all anymore.
“Danny, you’re going to hurt yourself,” she said.
I smiled. “No, I’m not. We’re good. We’re going downstairs.”
She handed Doc her crutches, and we hurried on down. By the time we reached Rico’s car, the police had him leaned over the hood, frisking him. Bit by bit, they stacked a small pile of contraband into a little pile on his hood. I recognized what looked like a crack pipe, a knife, and, alarmingly, a small revolver. Then, what looked like a bump key, a set of lock picks, then a slim-jim. The more time we spent, the more stuff they pulled out.
“Hi, Toni … Kenny,” a short man with dark hair said. “Good to see you guys.”
Toni nodded. “You, too, Tommy.” She pointed to me. “This is my boyfriend and boss, Danny Logan. Danny, this is Tommy Nguyen. He’s in the burglary division.”
“Good to meet you, Danny,” Tommy said, shaking my hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
I gave a quick nod. “Well, then, I’m afraid you have the advantage on me. What’s happening here?”
“Last week, I got a phone call from Lieutenant Dwayne Brown. I met with Dwayne and his partner, Gus Symanski, whom I’m told you know, and of course Toni, here, and Kenny.”
M.D. Grayson - Danny Logan 05 - Blue Molly Page 18