Jesse pushed away desperately, trying to get free. Yet Cane was faster, getting to his feet first, raising the big blade. A gun fired. The bullet struck Cane in the meaty part of his thigh. At the impact, Cane stiffened and grunted loudly.
Ramona lost the gun as the recoil of her shot knocked the weapon from her hand. The gun hit the ground and bounced away from her. She scrambled to her knees, stretching for the weapon.
Jesse ran to the Stiletto, still lying nearby, and grabbed it.
“No!” yelled Q. “Don't kill him!”
Jesse pointed the weapon and fired. The gun jumped as a short burst of bullets hit Cane in the torso. He toppled backward, the razor still in his hand. His body thudded on the stone floor.
Jesse trained the Stiletto on Q, who was looking sadly at Cane's body. Without a word Jesse walked over to Q's gun and kicked it into a corner.
Q went to Cane and cursed. “Dammit, dammit...” he said over and over.
Jesse went to Ramona, who was bleeding badly. Her arm, hand, and one of her legs were bloody.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Hell, no,” she said. “It hurts like hell.”
Jesse tore his shirt and tied off her wound. He kept his eyes on Q, who hovered over Cane like a grieving widow.
“We just wanted the case,” Jesse said to Q. “Good luck finding the money to buy your damned drugs.”
“So, you two don't want to get in on the deal?” asked Q.
“I'm not a criminal,” said Jesse. “We're innocent, and this case is going to prove it.” Jesse grabbed the black case. It looked like life itself. “Can you make it?” he asked Ramona. “I need to keep this gun on our boy over there.”
“I'm cool,” she said.
Q stood up and turned to them. He looked angry and frustrated. “I need that money,” he said.
“You must be crazy,” said Jesse. “See you in jail.”
Q held up a hand, then rolled up his pants leg. Alarmed, Jesse dropped the black case and put both hands on the Stiletto.
“Don't panic,” said Q. “I'm just taking out my badge.” He pulled out something strapped to his leg. Slowly, keeping his hand in view, he approached, holding a bright badge in hand. “Jamerson, DEA,” he said. “Now that you've killed my fucking collar, I'd like to know where that damned money is.”
“DEA?” asked Jesse. He was apprehensive, but he could tell the badge was the real article.
“Undercover,” said Jamerson. He put the badge away. “I've been with these punks for a few months. We had a clean bust on him and a little East Coast syndicate until you stole the fucking money.” His voice no longer sounded like that of a gang member. He was law enforcement all the way.
“He's lying,” said Ramona. “Let's get out of here.”
“I could have shot you,” Jamerson said to Jesse. “Remember?”
“Yeah,” said Jesse, remembering all too well. “You could have. Look, I don't want any part of this. I just need what's in this case. So I'll tell you where the money is.”
Jamerson pulled out a pen and a little pad and wrote down the address of the two-family fiat by the graveyard. Now Jesse knew he was legit. No drug dealer carried a notepad.
“Of course you know I have to place you under arrest,” said Jamerson. He put the notepad away.
“I know,” said Jesse. “But you can tell them that I pulled a gun on you.” Jesse waved the Stiletto. He smiled a little, turned, and walked away with Ramona.
The two turned back when they heard a sound. Cane was on his back, coughing up blood and writhing. Jamerson ran back to Cane and placed a hand on his neck again. When Jamerson stood up, his eyes were wide, and he looked a little scared.
“Jesus, he's still alive.”
13
Late Calls
Richard Steel was not feeling good. He was working too hard and not eating right. Tonight it was after eleven, and he was just leaving work. D’Estenne was to blame. The bastard was pushing for a conviction on a Dearborn corruption case to use as election fuel. Jesse's little trouble had really hurt him in the polls. Jesse. What the hell was he doing? When he had seen him at the casino, his heart had almost exploded. Just when he thought he had seen it all.
Richard walked out of Frank Murphy to his car. There were still a few cars in the lot. He couldn't believe any human being was here at this time.
Richard had reached his car when he saw a shadow rise from the opposite side of the car. He backed away, turning to run.
“Richard, it's me,” said Jesse. He was standing next to Ramona holding a big black briefcase. “I need your help.”
Jesse rolled the bandages tightly on Ramona's hand. The bleeding had stopped, but she was still in pain. She was tough, he thought. Never once had she complained as they were trudging through the cold November night.
They were in Richard's basement. Jesse had told him the whole story on their way over. Richard's face was expressionless as he took it in. Jesse felt that he was taking a chance, but Richard was the only person other than Florence who had seen him since he had run, and he had not turned him in.
Jamerson had called the DEA and the cops. When Jesse left, Cane was still alive. They were going to get the money and try to set up Cane's supplier. Whoever he was, he was going to get a big surprise tomorrow night.
“She should get this stitched up,” said Richard. “It looks bad.”
“Can't do that right now,” said Jesse. “So, can you get the U.S. attorney to listen to me?” He had to go to the feds. D’Estenne was the state prosecutor, but Jesse didn't trust him or the local police to do the right thing. If the feds thought there was government corruption of any kind, they could invent a jurisdictional reason to investigate.
“I don't know, Jesse,” said Richard. “This is a farfetched story.”
“Jamerson at the DEA will back me up,” said Jesse.
“I told you not to trust a white man,” said Ramona.
Jesse smiled a little. She was her old self again.
“Let's go and bust that damned thing open.”
“Ramona, please,” said Jesse. “Richard, look, they killed the mayor and a friend of mine. We can't let them get away with this.”
Jesse had never seen Richard so torn. He was usually a decisive man, but if he made the wrong choice here, it could be terrible. If he helped Jesse, he could be aiding and abetting a criminal, and if he didn't help, he'd miss out on being a hero.
“Okay,” said Richard at last. “I'm in. What do you want me to do?”
“First,” said Jesse, “I want to know why you helped me in Canada.”
Richard looked at Jesse curiously. “You may be an asshole, Jesse, but I know you didn't kill Karen Bell. I wasn't going to be the one who ratted you out. The whole thing smelled bad, and I-- that man from the mayor's office wanting to 'help' us with the case. I was wrong about that. Then when you got in trouble... It was too much of a coincidence. I knew something was up. And...” Richard trailed off. “D’Estenne and I went to see her behind your back when she got picked up.” He pointed at Ramona. “I didn't want to do it, but he made me. Kept talking about damage control. Man, he's really been losing it lately.”
Jesse just nodded. “And what were D’Estenne and Ellis Holmes doing at the casino with you?”
“Well,” said Richard, “D’Estenne is scared of the election. Xavier Peterson is closing in the polls, so he's pulling out all the stops. Chapel, Swiss is thinking about starting a new white-collar crime division.”
“Ellis hinted that there might be a place for me there soon,” said Jesse distantly.
“Actually,” said Richard, “I'm being considered to head it up.” He smiled ever so slightly. Same old Richard, thought Jesse.
“I told D’Estenne,” Richard continued. “And he insisted that Chapel, Swiss back him for county prosecutor, or they couldn't have his influence.”
“I see,” said Jesse. “Well, thanks again. I need to use your p
hone. Florence, my old investigator, and I have a phone rendezvous. I need to get her over here. She was trying something dangerous tonight. If she doesn't pick up that phone, then I'll know-- I'll know she failed.”
“I'd better make some coffee,” said Richard. “I'm sure the U.S. attorney will want to bring an FBI agent with him.”
Jesse glanced at Ramona, who had a concerned look on her face. Her eyes darted to Richard. Jesse went to her and whispered in her ear,
“Don't worry. I haven't forgotten my promise.”
14
Pandora
FBI agent Mel Sanford had been working a half hour on the black case on Richard Steel's dining room table. Richard's wife was pissed at the invasion, but not so much so that she didn't go back to sleep with their kids.
Nathan Williams, the local U.S. Attorney, listened intently as Jesse retold his story. Williams was about fifty, black, and very much a fed. He had a crew cut, he was clean-shaven, and he even had on a crisp new shirt. Jesse wondered if he had thought about putting on a tie.
Williams looked skeptical but seemed fascinated that somehow Yancy's death was tied to a conspiracy.
Jesse had almost kissed Florence when she walked through the door. She had failed to get the killers, but at least she was still alive. She regaled them with the story of the killers, the fire, and losing one of the assassins to the mayor's mansion. Williams suggested that Florence let the FBI use her Lojack tracker to find the man. She didn't argue.
Ramona was nowhere to be found. Jesse had suggested that she make herself scarce in case Williams didn't go for it. Jesse finished the story, and Williams leaned back in his chair.
“I want you to know, Mr. King,” said Williams, “that no matter what's in that case, you stay in our custody.”
“I understand,” said Jesse. “But Yancy was killed for what's in that case, so I have no problem with that. If there's nothing inside, then maybe I did kill those people.”
“Bullshit,” said Florence. “I followed that fuckin' van to the mayor's house. That means Crawford is up to his dickhole in this shit. Jesse is telling you the real deal, and I'll back him up.”
Williams and Richard cringed a little. They'd obviously never been around a woman like Florence.
“And where's the girl?” asked Williams. “She's our eyewitness in this.”
No one spoke. Jesse looked at Dick Steals, who shook his head.
“I can't tell you,” said Jesse.
“Can't or won't?” said Williams.
“Both,” said Jesse. “She's completely innocent, and I won't put her in jeopardy again.”
The phone rang. Richard answered it and brought it to Williams. The FBI agent listened on the phone just saying a lot of uh-huhs. Then he hung up.
“That was Special Agent Freeman,” said Williams. “Mike Jamerson of the DEA checks out. Also we got an ID on your burned corpse. His name is John Lake, a bodyguard. Formerly with Chicago PD and, I'm sorry to say, the FBI. And Jamerson had two messages for you.”
“What was that?” asked Jesse. “He said that their action for tomorrow was still on, and the bastard you shot made it,” Williams said.
“I see,” said Jesse. Jamerson's message was easy to understand. They would arrest Cane's drug supplier tomorrow, and Cane had not died despite being shot seven times. God must really love him, Jesse thought.
“Okay,” said Williams, “I think it's safe to bring out the young lady now.”
Jesse got up and walked upstairs. He returned with Ramona. She looked like she had been asleep. She surveyed the room, then looked at Jesse curiously.
“It's okay,” he said. “He knows about Jamerson.” Turning to Williams, he said, “This is Ramona Blake, your eyewitness.”
“Well,” said Williams, standing, “I guess you've had quite a month, young lady.”
“One I'd like to forget,” said Ramona.
“Got it yet?” Williams asked Sanford.
“Getting there,” said the other man. “Gotta be careful. Some of these things destroy their contents if they're not opened properly.”
“Take your time,” said Williams.
Sanford was about thirty but had a baby face. He was a computer and fraud expert. He had been pissed off at the late call until he saw the black case. He said it was a Grieger Box, a security case invented by a man named Barry Grieger from one of the State Department's many think tanks.
“Crawford could have had Yancy hit to keep casinos from coming to Detroit,” said Richard. “Crawford killed the casino commission; that's real evidence.”
“But it doesn't make sense,” said Jesse. “Crawford has never been opposed to casinos. I think he just did it to win the election next year.”
“The money,” said Williams. “That's the key. We need to see what financial fallout there was from Yancy's death. Then we'll know why that van was at the mayor's mansion.”
“How do we know they went to see the mayor?” asked Ramona. “I mean, a lot of people hang at the mansion. I used to. There are always a lot of people there. It could be anyone.”
The men all stopped talking. Ramona's insight was keen, and they seemed shocked that she possessed it. Jesse remembered how awkward he had felt when he was the odd man out with the female dealers.
Smiling at Ramona, he said, “She's right. It could be anyone.” Then he turned to Richard and said, “I hate to bring this up, but our boss might be involved.”
“D’Estenne?” said Richard. “I don't think so.”
“Yancy was not going to endorse him in the election. Crawford did. And maybe someone had a vested interest in keeping D’Estenne in office.”
Richard rubbed his chin, thinking. “I don't know,” he said. “I don't think Frank would kill to stay in office. Still, he has been under a lot of pressure lately.”
“Let's not rule out anyone,” said Williams. “Situations like this tend to be--”
“I got it!” yelled Sanford. “Sir, I think I can open this thing now.”
Everyone crowded around Sanford as he held up the case. Jesse's heart started to beat faster. His fate was inside the black box. He hoped he would not be like Pandora, who regretted ever opening hers.
“I don't know how the mayor got hold of a GB,” said Sanford.
“Yancy had friends everywhere,” said Williams. “Quite a few in the Justice Department.”
“See here,” said Sanford, “the key is the handle. It's the only visible seam. The reason you don't see the others is that it has these shadowy lines in it. Watch.”
Sanford pulled out the handle. He slipped a thin metal rod inside the base where the handle met the case. “This would be where the key went, but since we don't have it...”
Sanford turned the metal rod, and everyone heard several clicks.
“Now, the other side,” he said.
Sanford did the same to the other side. More clicks. Then he laid the case down flat. Jesse could see now that two square flaps of metal were sticking out from the base. Sanford turned them up, and the case opened slightly with a tiny hiss.
“The mechanism is hydraulic,” said Sanford, clearly proud of himself. He grabbed a small mirror on a stick.
“Open it,” said Jesse.
“Not yet,” said Sanford. “If there is a destruction mechanism inside, it will be triggered if the box is opened without a key. That means it might be on now. But if memory serves me, the GB uses a laser system. If I can reflect the beam back, the box will open.”
“And if you can't?” asked Jesse.
“The contents will be destroyed before we can get them out.”
Jesse held his breath as Sanford put the tiny mirror into the box and moved slowly from left to right. Suddenly the box's lid opened fully with a loud hiss.
“And that's that,” said Sanford.
Inside the case were a thick envelope and a CD jewel box. They were strapped down. Jesse took the envelope and opened it.
“It looks like information on municipal bond law
,” said Jesse, scanning the papers. “Yancy was concerned about a bond issue that happened over a decade ago. Richard, do you have a computer?”
“I'll bring it in,” said Richard.
In a few minutes Richard had the system set up. Sanford put the CD in the drive and went to the display program.
“There's a big wave file on this,” said Sanford. “What's that?” said Ramona.
“A sound file,” said Sanford. “Here, let's play it.” Sanford clicked the mouse a few more times.
“This damn thing working, Louis?” It was Harris Yancy's voice. Jesse could feel the chill spread through the room. He'd heard Yancy's voice once before on the tape, but everyone else reacted to the voice from the grave.
“Just talk, you old fool,“ said a man in the background. He laughed.
“That has to be Louis Franklin,” said Jesse. “He supposedly committed suicide.” He was sure now that it was no suicide. Yancy had made a call to Louis the night he died.
“Okay,“ said Yancy, “this is just a reminder to you, Louis. If we file this fiscal year, then the bond debt must be dealt with quickly. We cannot let our deadline pass, or we're fucked. That's a legal term, Louis.”
Yancy laughed. Jesse saw Ramona's eyes turn sad. He held her hand.
“Anyway, “ Yancy continued, “if the city files, we’ll have the power to manipulate a lot of our business partners. I'd like the authority used judiciously. While we're getting rid of liabilities we'll make our credit rating better, getting ready for the casinos that should be coming in the year 2000. What we want to do is make sure the filing goes to the right court, so that no one gels any ideas about replacing me. This is imperative. I'm losing some control over the city, but I will not be at the mercy of some asshole in a robe. That's it, Louis. All the other info is in the hard files. When you're done, send me copies. Mr. Nicks will come for them.”
Double Dead Page 35