Joan frowned. “Seems kinda soon. You sure?”
“Yeah. It’s like five hours just in the air. I want them there when we need them, not stuck somewhere over Kentucky.” Paused “Besides, who knows when someone might come snooping around the shop or my house. Don’t want our ace-in-the-hole being exposed before we’re ready to play it.”
“Fair enough,” Joan said, nodding. Pulled out her cell phone and walked away from the building amongst the broken down cars.
JC walked back into the garage. Lisa hadn’t moved, watching something on her cellphone. He heard the sound of an argument coming from her phone’s tinny speakers. Theo was right — the woman loved her reality TV.
Time to play a part, he said to himself, hoping this would work.
JC sized her up as he approached. Medium height, medium length brown hair, pulled back in a ponytail. Glasses. Marginally attractive, but not enough to turn most men’s head as she walked past. In many ways, she was the ideal he had always tried to ascend to. Forgettable. Nothing about her stood out in a crowd. Lisa looked up at him. Paused the video on her cellphone. Pushed her glasses up her nose in one practiced fluid motion. Chomped on her gum. JC extended his hand.
“I apologize for my brusque manner earlier,” he said. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Giacomo Cestaio, but everyone calls me JC. You’ve met Theo and my associate Joan. That tall young man over there is Duke. We are in need of an outstanding makeup artist and costumer who can work fast and under pressure. Theo tells me you are that person. Tell me,” JC said, smiling, “are you that person?”
Lisa paused, taken aback by his fast speech and smooth confidence. She stammered a bit. “I, I, I guess so.”
JC, basing his part from the performance of a motivational speaker his father once made him sit through, wasn’t about to be persuaded by such a timid answer. He wanted her ready and raring to go, not hesitant about the job.
“You guess so? That’s the best you can do?” Shook his head. Disapproving. “Maybe there’s someone in the reality television field we should be seeing instead. Someone we should be paying ten thousand dollars to instead.” Turned to Theo. “What do you think, Theo?”
Before Theo had a chance, Lisa found her voice.
“No, there isn’t,” she said. “You want someone in the reality TV field? Someone who is used to working on deadlines, who will work with you and produce quality costume, hair and makeup, no matter the time pressure? Then I am that person.”
JC smiled, appraising her new found self-assuredness. “Convince me.”
Lisa began listing off a string of reality TV shows, both scripted and unscripted, that she had worked for. Detailing the unique difficulties involved with each one. JC had heard of a few, but most of them held no meaning to him. Still, he appeared to be impressed and made the appropriate noises at the appropriate times. Joan came back into the garage about the same time Lisa began the list of shows and productions that she had turned down. Theo stopped her.
“Hey, Lisa,” he said, “didn’t you tell me you worked with Gary Busey?”
Joan shot Theo an icy disapproving glance while JC closed his eyes and shook his head.
“Yeah, I did. I’m With Busey was the first show I ever worked on. Did the hair and makeup for it, like, forever ago.”
Duke’s eyes widened and his mouth slowly moved into a silent “O” but other than that he appeared to be frozen.
“You know Gary Busey?” he managed to utter. Then, breaking his frozen shock, he began oddly hopping from one foot to the other in an excited, I’ve-got-to-pee kind of dance.
“Okay,” JC said, trying to gain control of the situation again and take Lisa’s mind off of Duke’s weird behavior. “You’ve convinced me. Here’s what we’re working on. It’s kind of this guerilla reality film-making project. We don’t have the time or budget for film permits. We set up here then arrive at the location for our shoots. The camera crew and the actors arrive independently. That way we can get the true reactions of the crowd without all the interfering BS of extras and setting things up. Faster. Rawer. Awesomer.”
She looked at JC sideways. Then back to Duke. Duke stepped forward.
“You know Gary Busey?” he said again, quietly. Hands open and slightly outstretched.
Lisa stood from her stool. Moved behind it. “I did his hair and makeup on a TV show. I didn’t know the guy. Tell you the truth, the dude was a freak. Weird as hell.”
Her unease increased the closer Duke got. Theo was having a hard time controlling his laughter. JC walked up behind Duke. Gripped the back of the taller man’s neck hard to prevent him from moving forward. Duke came out of his trance.
“I’m sorry about Duke, here. He must have watched Big Wednesday hundreds of times growing up as a kid. He’s a big fan of Mr. Busey.”
Duke turned to JC. “Can I hug her?” Back to Lisa. “Can I hug you? You may still have some latent Busey-ness about you.”
JC turned Duke around and firmly shoved him back towards Theo and Joan. Lisa stayed positioned behind her stool. “Is he going to be okay?” she said.
“Yes, he’ll be fine. I give you my word,” JC answered, loudly so the rest of the team could hear it. He was getting anxious for this process to forward.
“Hold on,” Lisa said. “You said you don’t have the budget for film permits. But you have my pay, correct?”
JC snapped his fingers at Theo who handed him a small duffle bag. He reached into the bag, withdrew a wad of green and put it into Lisa’s waiting open hand. “Ten thousand now. Stay with us for two days, do a helluva job and you’ll get five thousand more.”
Her eyes widened at the fifty percent raise. And the realization that the pay would likely be tax free. She glanced around the dimly lit garage. Chomping her gum. Eyes resting on each person one by one. Stayed on Duke longer than the rest. Then she looked back at JC.
“Cool,” she said. Pointed at Duke. “But he stays away from me.”
“Cool,” JC replied. Duke looked dejected while everyone else smiled. “Let’s get to work.”
*****
Lisa went with Theo to move her panel van from the front of the garage around to the back gate next to the building they were using. They needed access to the costumes and equipment that were stored inside. JC knew the less visibility for them right now the better. Plus, he needed a minute to get Joan and Duke up to speed on the new plan.
It was simple — suit up as motorcycle patrol officers. Use Meier’s contact on the force, Officer Sullivan, to track down Campbell’s whereabouts. Kidnap him in his own vehicle. Bring him to the garage. Question him. Record his answers. Deliver Campbell back to the police station and the pertinent information to his chief via Officer Sullivan. Keep the information related to Kowalski for their own purposes down the road.
“I don’t know,” Joan said. “Kidnapping and torturing a cop? Dicey.”
“Yeah, I know. The kidnapping I’m actually not worried about. It’s the questioning. I doubt he’ll tell us what we need to know without a little, well, persuasion.”
“Don’t worry about a thing,” Duke said. “I’ve got it all figured out.” Back from his Busey mental break.
JC and Joan turned to him. Waiting for more explanation. Duke grinned. “Something I saw in a movie one time. Been waiting to try it out.” Saw the doubt in his teammates’ faces. “It’s perfect. Honest.”
They both shrugged. Worst case? They would abandon Duke’s plan and go with a straight beating until Campbell caved.
Theo and Lisa returned. Duke and JC lined up to be outfitted with nearly perfect replicas of police uniforms. Theo wanted to be one of the police officers as well but was overruled. JC needed him here to keep an eye on Lisa while they were gone. Although Duke had calmed down from before, JC guessed Lisa would never be fully comfortable around him. Leaving the two of them alone was out of the question. And Joan? He was half afraid Joan would lock Lisa in the back of the panel van just so she wouldn’t have to loo
k at her.
A short twenty minutes later, Duke and JC emerged from the garage changed men. They looked like they had been on the force for a number of years. Uniforms clean and well-kept but not sparkly and stiff. Boots with worn heels and minor scuffing. Their own guns in the holsters. Both wearing Ray-Ban Aviator sunglasses. Both outfitted with fake mustaches: Duke’s thin and creepy, JC’s thick and manly. With the mustaches, the sunglasses, the helmets and the uniforms, most people wouldn’t bother to look closely at the faces behind all the external trappings. Which is exactly what they needed.
Lisa outfitted Joan with her own disguise. JC knew most of the law enforcement attention was focused on him, but photos would likely be circulating of his associates. Joan wasn’t dressed up in a police uniform so Lisa fashioned a uniform of another type. Larger false nose. Tanned skin. Long blonde hair. Enormous sunglasses, bad teeth, ratty jeans, flowery long-sleeve shirt. Loose leather fringed vest to hide her SIG Sauer at her waist. Flower child from out of time. Or a badly disguised undercover cop.
Sullivan had returned JC’s call with the location of Campbell. Their target was having lunch at a diner on Pico near La Cienega. Just outside of the BHPD jurisdiction. Perfect. They could be there in fifteen minutes. It was time to go.
JC and Duke walked through the mess of ancient cars, trying hard to keep their uniforms clean. Joan followed, brushing up against the cars to lend authenticity and aroma to her costume. She would be the one driving Campbell’s car back to the garage. Sullivan had informed them Campbell had been issued a new vehicle while the other one was being repaired.
“You know I’m Ponch, right JC?” Duke said as they threaded their way to the main office.
JC smiled. Chewing on a fresh piece of gum he had taken from Lisa. “Whatever, dude. Everybody knows John was the coolest.”
“Have you lost your mind? Ponch was the man. Right, Joan?”
Joan smiled, walking behind Duke. “I’m just digging JC’s super cool mustache right now.”
“Thanks, babe,” JC said over his shoulder. “Wanna take a ride?”
“That’s gross, JC,” she said. “You and I are never having sex again.”
Duke nearly tripped as he whipped his head between the two, trying to needle more details out of them. Despite the jokes, the stress and adrenaline were running high through each of them. So many things had to go right for their plan to succeed. Only a minor problem, such as their bikes being recognized by another officer, a traffic accident or even Campbell eluding them would careen their plan erratically off track. Things had to go very, very well for them.
If not, they would end up in jail.
Kowalski would go free for the murder of Senator Marcus.
And they would likely be facing lethal injection.
Chapter 53
Detective Campbell
Driving across Los Angeles to Quinn’s Café was far more nerve-wracking than either JC or Duke imagined. It wasn’t the borrowed police bikes or the realistic but fraudulent uniforms. It wasn’t even the fact that they were going to kidnap and torture a police detective. The problem was all the other law enforcement professionals they encountered. And the fact that every single officer they saw was looking for them.
The killing of a senator produces a fairly large manhunt. Secret Service, FBI, LAPD, L.A. County Police, California State police. Everyone was involved and rightly so. JC was in some ways glad for the law enforcement presence. Happy to see his country come together when it needed to in order to catch the bad guys. He just kind of wished they weren’t functioning as efficiently as they were so that he could have a little breathing room to catch the man actually responsible.
Traffic was monumentally bad. Roadblocks and checkpoints peppered the city. Drives that normally took fifteen minutes were stretched out to an hour. People with hour-long commutes were giving up and finding coffee shops with free Wi-Fi or simply calling in sick. JC knew things would be getting worse, but didn’t imagine they would be this bad.
Luckily the sirens and uniforms led them through the worst of things. Joan followed them as best she could, turning here and there trying to avoid the more snarled traffic jams they came across. It was almost an hour before they were pulling up to Quinn’s Café. Their one advantage was Campbell’s inherent laziness. Officer Sullivan had told them Campbell was signed out for a one hour lunch. Thirty minutes past the time he should have been reporting for duty and he was still at the café, finishing up his second piece of lemon chiffon pie.
Joan parked the Monte Carlo at a gas station on the corner. Got out. Left the keys on the dashboard. They wouldn’t be needing the car anymore. She walked to the café, deeply interested in what was happening on her cellphone. Sat at the chairs positioned out front. Ordered a coffee from the waitress. Smiled a very large smile, startling the poor waitress with her stained and crooked false teeth.
JC and Duke parked their bikes side-by-side perpendicular to the curb right behind Campbell’s replacement undercover Dodge Charger. Dismounted. JC stood on the sidewalk with his back to the café, facing Duke who stood on the road watching over JC’s shoulder. Both with their thumbs hooked in their equipment belts. Making small talk.
Everyone knew what needed to be done. Arrest Campbell, put him in the trunk of the Charger. Joan drives Campbell’s car back to the garage. JC and Duke follow. Question Campbell and record his answers. However, like all plans, difficulties could throw it off track all too quickly. Like Campbell recognizing them. Or getting spooked and getting the drop on them. Or customers getting involved. Or filming it with their cellphones and uploading it to social media.
Campbell was sitting in the booth closest to the window. Finished his second piece of pie. Stood. Dropped a twenty on the table. Walked to the door, fishing his keys from his pocket. The left side of his face was still cut up and bruised from the accident earlier in the day. Walked with a slight limp.
Duke had a big grin on his face. JC shook his head.
“Duke, we’re about to kidnap a cop,” he said. “Joan’s going to be driving around with him in the trunk of a car. Try and stop smiling.”
“I’ve never had so much fun in all my life, boss,” Duke said.
“It’s not a Tarantino movie, Duke.”
“Oh, but it is, JC,” his younger friend said, “it totally is.”
JC heard the jingle of the café’s doorbell behind him. He didn’t turn to look. No need. Duke’s smile disappeared.
“Game time,” Duke said.
“You start,” JC said.
Campbell had unlocked his vehicle with the push-button remote and was about level with JC.
“Hey buddy, you know you’re parked illegally?” Duke said.
“Yeah, well, I’m on the job,” Campbell said. Didn’t look up. Stepped off the curb, walking past Duke.
“And we’re not?” JC said. Remained on the sidewalk.
Campbell glanced up at the two officers. Slowed. Sighed.
“Look, I’m sorry. Had a helluva day so far. Like I said, I’m on the job.”
“What job is that? The eating lemon chiffon pie job?” Duke said.
Campbell stopped. Turned. “What did you just say to me, patrolman?”
“Did you have a bowl of soup to go with your pie?” Duke continued. “Maybe some minestrone? Good ol’ tomato soup? I know,” Duke said, snapping his fingers, “beans with bacon.”
The detective looked into Duke’s face. Past the mustache, sunglasses and helmet. Glanced at JC’s face. Realization was slow coming but once it hit, panic was close behind.
Campbell reached for his service weapon, holstered on his right hip. JC’s hand was already on his PR-24 baton, drawing it, timing it to knock the gun from Campbell’s hand as soon as it was drawn. Duke was faster. He landed a massive uppercut on Campbell’s jaw, driving him upwards and backwards onto the trunk of the car, forcing him to drop the keys. JC followed up, his baton held sideways, pinning him to the car. Campbell struggled but he was simply overpowe
red by the two younger men.
“You’re under arrest,” Duke bellowed for the benefit of the customers in the café and those walking down the street who had stopped to see the altercation.
“What?” Campbell managed, head still reeling from the punch.
Duke took over from JC. Rolled the man over. Slammed his face against the trunk of the Charger. Started to cuff him. Campbell resisted. Stiffened. Duke loosened him up with a couple of punches to the kidneys. Finished cuffing him. Stood him up.
“I said you’re under arrest,” Duke repeated.
“What the… but… I’m a cop!”
JC holstered his baton. Took Campbell’s gun and his badge. Picked up the keys. Unlocked the trunk. Tossed the keys to Joan who was off her cellphone, weapon drawn. Covering them. Handed her Campbell’s badge and gun as she passed.
“You’re under arrest for impersonating a police officer for the past twenty years, soup man,” JC said. Opened the trunk.
“In you go,” Duke said as the two of them wrestled the unwilling but still woozy detective into the trunk of his own vehicle. Joan was already inside and had started the undercover police car.
“You… you can’t do this,” Campbell managed to say. “This is America,” he said, trying to look around. “You can’t do this. This is America!” he said again, gaining indignation with the strength of his voice.
JC ignored him. Returned to his bike. Duke looked down at Campbell. Made his voice raspy in his best Nick Nolte impression.
“This isn’t America, Jack.” Paused. Grinned. “This is L.A.”
Duke slammed the trunk shut.
Chapter 54
Please Stop Him
The drive back across L.A. was just as bad as the drive coming in. The unmarked Dodge Charger had red and blue police lights and a siren hidden behind the front grill. Joan didn’t bother with the siren but started up the flashing lights. Those plus the judicious application of Campbell’s badge got her through most of the roadblocks. Her teammates riding on police motorcycles convinced those who might be inclined to ask more questions. Joan had taken off her wig, bad teeth and sunglasses as soon as they pulled away from the diner. With her naturally serious demeanor she looked and acted the part of a cop far more than she could have imagined.
[JC Bannister 01.0] The Fixer, Season 1 Page 30