The Promise

by Robert Crais

  I said, “Thomas Lerner exists. I met him exactly as I stated to Carter.”

  She leaned back, and watched me.

  “You didn’t hire me. I became involved while trying to find Lerner, exactly as I claimed in my statement, and, being me, I investigated. I discovered a link between the house and Colinski, and a possible connection with an employee of Woodson Energy. Since Carter had accused me of being involved, I didn’t bring this information to the police. I brought it to you, which is how you and I met. You immediately looked into these things, and discovered the criminal involvement of one of your agents.”

  I stopped, and waited some more. I knew she was thinking, but I couldn’t tell what.

  “This thing happens tomorrow, Janet. Help me save Amy, and you’ll get your agent, and whoever else happens to be there.”

  Hess nodded, and her face looked softer, there in the shadows.

  “This is why I hired you, Mr. Cole.”

  I opened the door, slid out, and looked at her.

  “Get the immunity, and take care of James. You have my cell. The next time you call, I’ll answer.”

  I closed her door, went to my car, and drove back to Silver Lake.

  True Things We Value

  54

  Jon Stone

  JON CLEANED HIS WEAPONS while Amy Breslyn slept. The two .45s and the M4, though he didn’t expect to use them. Ritual. He cleaned them in the dark, sitting in the Rover’s back seat.

  When the guns were away, he fired the engine to recharge his power packs. The power packs supplied juice for the laptop, his satellite transceiver, and cell phones. While the power packs charged, he slipped out of the Rover with his toiletry kit, and stood in a dark pool of shadow. Three minutes after four in the A.M., the little street was sleeping.

  Jon stretched deep from the hips, getting his hamstrings and spine, and twisted to warm his core. He clicked off a hundred push-ups, stretched, and knocked out a hundred lunges. He finished up with a hundred burpees, and a nice little sweat. Wasn’t much, but he did what he could.

  Jon shaved and brushed his teeth, then took off his clothes. He cleaned himself with wet wipes and a bottle of water, and put on the fresh clothes Cole brought from his home. Breakfast was trail mix, a banana, and two protein bars. By then, the sky was beginning to lighten, so Jon took his place behind the wheel.

  These cops Cole brought were a pain. This woman Hess? An idiot. The government agents who tagged along? Fuckups waiting to happen. Delta didn’t allow fuckups. Fuckups got people killed.

  Hess rolled in like she was in charge, and laid out her plan to approach Ms. Breslyn. The ‘first contact’ team would consist of two women and an older, but nonthreatening, man. The team would include herself, another woman, and the man, the other woman being a shrink in her forties, and the man being a U.S. Attorney with a gentle, assuring presence. First contact, like Ms. Breslyn was an alien. Hess was explaining how their ‘first contact’ had to be staged when Jon interrupted.

  “Forget the team. I’m going to approach her, and I’ll be alone. Thanks.”

  Hess and her suits lit up like flares, so Jon turned off his radio.

  A little while later, they called his phone, and asked if he’d wear a wire.

  “No.”

  Jon sat in the Range Rover cocoon, listened to Amy sleep, and knew people were beyond the edge of the darkness. Talking and planning, positioning cars at egress points to cover the house, and setting up at the storage facility. No one knew how Amy would react, or which way this would go, so they had to be flexible. Jon resented their intrusion.

  The deep blue canopy paled, and lights went on in a couple of houses. Construction workers come early to beat the morning crush arrived, parked, and leaned back to catch a few last-minute zees.

  The image on Jon’s laptop grew visible as Amy’s room lightened with the dawn. At five fifty-one, her arm moved. At five fifty-two, her leg. She checked her watch at five fifty-eight, and sat up stiffly, the way people do, after a long sleep.

  Jon pressed the push-to-talk.

  “She’s up.”

  Pike said, “Rog.”

  Cole said, “Need anything?”

  “Yeah. Keep those people away from me.”

  Cole didn’t answer, and neither did Hess. Stone knew she was listening.

  Amy did her business, then went to the kitchen. She stayed for several minutes, came out with a cup of coffee, and returned to the bedroom. She selected an outfit, laid it out on the bed, and went into the bathroom with the coffee. He heard the sink, and then the shower. Seeing her clothes laid out made him think of a mortuary, the way morticians laid out clothes as they prepared to dress a corpse. Jon tried to stop thinking about it, but the image stayed with him.

  He wondered at her inner landscape. In a few hours, Amy would put on an explosive device, and end her own life, yet she had slept soundly. She appeared calm and relaxed before she went to bed, and seemed comfortable and at ease now. Maybe she was at peace with this terrible end. Maybe she was relieved.

  Amy came out naked, and went to the bed.

  Jon touched her image.

  “Not on my watch.”

  She dressed, poured herself a second cup of coffee, and sat on the couch in the living room with her computer. Jon watched for signs of messaging, but decided she was reading the news.

  At two minutes after seven, she put the coffee cup in the kitchen, returned to the bedroom, and took the large purse and fringed coat from the closet.

  Jon pressed the push-to-talk.

  “Five or less. She’s getting ready.”

  He shut the Rover’s engine, and pocketed the keys.

  Hess spoke from the two-way.

  “Don’t fuck up.”

  Bitch.

  Amy stopped in the living room to put on the jacket, and hung the big purse from her shoulder.

  Jon left the Rover and walked toward her house. He’d wanted to meet Amy and talk to her since he learned about Jacob, and now here they were. Groovy.

  Hess had no idea. She was clueless, and here for the wrong reasons.

  Amy was locking the front door when Jon reached the steps. She gripped the rail as she always did, and started down, one step at a time, watching her feet as if she were afraid she would fall. She didn’t see him.

  Jon climbed a few steps, and waited.

  She took another step, and another. She finally saw him, and startled, as if he’d given her a fright.

  Jon smiled, and held out his hand.

  “My name is Jon. I’m here about Jacob.”

  She seemed startled again.

  “How do you know him?”

  “I don’t, but I’ve been there, where he died. I’d like to tell you about it. Let’s go up. We’ll talk.”

  Jon followed her up to the house, where he sat with Amy Breslyn. He said things he couldn’t have said if he had worn the wire, but they made her feel better, and gave Amy hope.

  55

  Elvis Cole

  THREE HOURS and twenty minutes after I left Janet Hess in a Hollywood parking lot, we met again in a different parking lot, this one in Silver Lake. A street agent couldn’t have made it happen, but Hess was the SAC. She presented me with a signed, notarized agreement from the U.S. Attorney’s office. The agreement stipulated in writing the assurances and protections I’d asked for. Amy Breslyn was safe.

  Despite everything between us, I found myself liking her.

  “You’re all right, Hess.”

  “Don’t get carried away.”

  “What about James?”

  “Done.”

  I found myself liking her a lot.

  Hess wanted to see the video, but she hadn’t come alone. She arrived with six ATF agents in three cars, and an ATF Crisis Response Team. The CRT team was the ATF’s version of SWAT, a
nd rolled up in a large, black Suburban. We were surrounded by agents in a parking lot.

  I said, “Here?”

  Hess led me away from the others to her G-ride. I opened my laptop, and resumed the video from the pause.

  Amy stepped back as she opened the door, and Mitchell walked in. Hess recognized him instantly, even when all she saw was the top of his head.

  “Fucker. Russ, you bitch.”

  “You’ll see his face in a few seconds.”

  “I know who he is. Asshole.”

  When we reached a point in the video where Mitchell mentioned Rollins, she stopped me.

  “Rollins is Colinski?”

  “I think so. He’s the man James and I saw at the house.”

  She shook her head, angry and disgusted.

  “Stupid Russ. You idiot.”

  “You can’t have the laptop, but I’ll give you the video. He lays himself out, how he set up the deal, what they’re selling, everything.”

  She turned away.

  “I want it as soon as possible.”

  “You got it.”

  We got into an ATF car with the CRT commander. One of the ATF agents drove, and Hess sat in front with the driver. They wanted to see Amy’s house.

  I sketched out what I knew as we drove up, mostly repeating what I’d heard Amy and Mitchell say, and describing Safety Plus. The CRT commander bombed me with questions about Amy’s storage unit, and ordered a second CRT team deployed to Safety Plus. He told Hess to roll out a Bomb unit.

  I said, “The explosives are gone. I took them.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Under my deck. I took them home.”

  We cruised past Amy’s house and Jon’s Rover. The CRT commander eyed the Rover as we passed.

  “We’ll have to get him out of here.”

  I said, “He’s watching out for her. He’ll stay.”

  “This is for his safety.”

  “He’s staying. Me, the Rover guy, and my partner, we’re downrange on this, and we’re calling the shots. Make your peace.”

  Hess turned to the CRT commander, and backed me.

  “They’re downrange. Let’s go a step at a time.”

  Back in the parking lot, Hess and I got into the Suburban with the CRT commander, a CRT crisis negotiator, and a red-haired ATF agent named Darrow. Amy’s willingness to cooperate would dictate how they dealt with Mitchell and Colinski. We couldn’t work out a plan until we knew whether Amy was willing and able to help, and we couldn’t know this until we faced her. Amy’s response was critical. Hess looped in Pike and Stone via radios, and laid out how she wanted to approach Amy. Jon cut her off, told her he would deal with Amy, and hung up.

  Hess said, “What the fuck?”

  I said, “Temperamental.”

  SACs aren’t used to being cut off.

  I touched her arm.

  “We got you this far, Janet. Trust him.”

  I left them a few minutes later, and drove back to Amy’s. It was still dark. I parked three houses below, facing uphill. I could see Amy’s house, but not Jon’s Rover. Pike was higher, looking down from above. I wondered if Amy was dreaming.

  The sky was lighter when Hess arrived. A second ATF car appeared, and parked below me. The sun rose, neighborhood residents left their homes, and the dawn brightened into a full-on day.

  A few minutes after seven, the radio popped.

  Jon said, “Five or less. She’s getting ready.”

  Amy was about to leave the house, drive to her storage space, and finish a device with which she would end her own life. I wondered what she was feeling.

  Hess spoke from the radio, responding to Jon.

  “Don’t fuck up.”

  I wondered if Amy felt anxious or scared, and if she was having second thoughts. The Amy I knew wasn’t. My Amy didn’t want to die. She was smart, strong, and determined, and she had arrived at a course of action that seemed rational to her. A broken heart could do this.

  Jon appeared, walking down from the Rover. He stopped at the steps, and looked up toward her house.

  I couldn’t see Amy because of the angle, but she would be outside by now, and on her way down. Amy needed to finish the jacket quickly, so she was probably running through a mental checklist of the remaining work.

  Jon started up the steps, and then he was gone.

  Amy wouldn’t see him at first. She’d be lost in her thoughts, checking off the rational steps that led to her rational death, and each of those steps would make perfect, inevitable sense.

  Until she saw Jon.

  Everything would change when she saw him. Jon would offer a different path.

  56

  JON WAS WITH HER about fifty minutes before he called.

  “C’mon up. We’re good.”

  Hess and I went, along with the red-haired agent, Darrow, and a tall, athletic agent named Kelman.

  Here we were, all these strangers, some with badges, invading her world, and hitting her with the cold-water truth that much of what she’d been told and believed were lies.

  Amy was emotional at first, but she seemed to take comfort in Jon. He sat near her on the couch. Hess and I sat opposite them. Darrow and Kelman searched the house while we spoke.

  Amy didn’t appear suicidal or unstable. People with such problems often don’t, but her responses were clear and intelligent. She understood what was happening, and was processing the new truth of her situation.

  I showed her the sketch of Royal Colinski and his mug shot.

  She said, “That’s Mr. Rollins. He was at the house.”

  Hess showed her a picture of Mitchell. Amy identified him as Charles Lombard.

  Hess told her about Eli Sturges and his relationship to Colinski, and asked about the missing explosives. Amy’s answer surprised us.

  “I don’t have any more. The material you’re talking about isn’t real.”

  Jon leaned back so she couldn’t see his face, and flashed a huge grin. She’d already told him.

  I was more doubtful.

  “The material in Echo Park was real. The putty I found with the vest is real.”

  She nodded.

  “Yes, that material is real. I had forty-eight pounds of live material. The remainder is material we make for training purposes. It looks and feels the same, but it’s chemically inert.”

  Jon grinned.

  “Play-Doh.”

  Darrow was back in the room.

  He said, “Did you think you could fool these people?”

  “No, sir. I could’ve taken more of the live material, but I didn’t want to risk so much falling into the wrong hands.”

  Jon laughed aloud this time.

  Hess said, “Where is this material, Amy?”

  Amy glanced at me.

  “In the unit next to the one you were in. I have two units. Side by side.”

  She gave Hess the key card and a lock key. Hess dispatched two agents and a CRT team with orders to secure both units and their contents. I realized Amy was telling the truth when she told us the missing material was harmless. Maggie would have alerted at the second unit if the explosives were real. She hadn’t been trained to find bombs that couldn’t explode.

  Hess checked her watch. Time was a factor, and the clock was running.

  “Okay, Amy, help us out here. How do we get from here to Colinski and Sturges? How does the deal unfold?”

  Amy sketched out the steps. They matched with what I already knew. Rollins was supposed to transfer funds into a foreign account this morning. He would notify Mitchell when it happened, and Mitchell would notify Amy. When Amy confirmed the transfer, she’d take Mitchell to the hidden stash, and Mitchell would arrange the handoff to Colinski and his buyers.

  I said, “How do you check the account?
Your computer?”

  “Charles is supposed to call.”

  She still called him Charles.

  Hess said, “Let’s see. Maybe you’re rich.”

  Amy opened her computer, and signed into her account. A few seconds later, she shook her head.

  “No. Not yet. You can see.”

  Darrow sat beside her, and studied the screen.

  Hess leaned toward her again.

  “What did you mean, you’ll take Charles? Are you supposed to pick him up?”

  Amy frowned vaguely, as if they’d never discussed it.

  “No. He’ll pick me up. He’ll come get me, and I’ll tell him how to get there. He doesn’t know. I didn’t want him to know, in case he got ideas.”

  Jon grinned, and shook his head.

  “Awesome.”

  I thought about Mitchell for a moment, and turned to Hess.

  “Will Mitchell go hard or easy?”

  “Easy. He’ll flop like a fish. I want him off the board fast.”

  Jon said, “Be advised.”

  Loud.

  Everyone turned. Jon was wearing his Delta face.

  “Just so we’re on the same page, Ms. Breslyn isn’t on the board. She will at no time be exposed to these people when they aren’t in custody.”

  Hess said, “Absolutely not.”

  Darrow’s phone buzzed. He pushed to his feet when he saw the message, and hurried to the windows.

  “White male. Approaching the house.”

  Hess and I moved to the windows, too, and Kelman moved to the door. Jon was on his feet with his pistol out faster than any of us, and helped Amy up.

  “Let’s us go in back. C’mon.”

  Amy seemed confused.

  “Charles didn’t call.”

  I peeked past the edge of the drapes, and saw Russ Mitchell climbing the steps. A bouquet of red and white carnations was in his right hand. I recognized him the same time Hess said his name.

  “Mitchell. You asshole.”

  Jon and Amy had retreated into the dining room. Jon stood so she was behind him.

  “Amy, does he have a key?”

  “Absolutely not!”

  “Jon.”