by Ian Jones
‘Was the door locked?’
‘Yeah, it was. But the truth is the locks in these buildings are really for show only. A six-year-old could open up one of these rooms if they wanted, the same key probably fits about seventy-five percent of the doors in these buildings. But there are never that many expensive possessions in these rooms. Hayter didn’t own a computer or nothing. He did his gambling on his cellphone.’
John looked under the bed and on top of the wardrobe, and then slid the drawers out.
‘We checked everywhere, there really was nothing to miss. Believe me, even the toilet cistern and around the shower. He didn’t seem to own hardly anything that wasn’t given to him by the army. Except for his car, and we searched that too,’ Reed explained.
John looked at his watch then nodded.
‘Ok, you’re right, nothing to see here. Let’s go and talk to Ron.’
They followed the road back up to the MP station, and went inside. The corporal appeared, and they went back downstairs, through the gate and then the next one and into the corridor.
Keane was lying on the bunk, he jumped up when he saw them. Reed opened the cell gate and stood in the opening, blocking it, staring hard down at Keane, who looked around and then fixed on Turner who was standing watching.
‘Right Major, I hope you have come to clear this shit up. I got work to do, I’m a police chief.’
Turner looked back impassively, and said nothing.
‘Ron, you need to come clean. It’s not too late but we are fast running out of time. We all know that the killing hasn’t stopped, it’s obvious they haven’t found whatever it is they are looking for. So, you may as well start talking,’ John said.
Keane walked forward and gripped the bars.
‘You’ve cooked up this conspiracy shit and you ain’t listening. One more time. I do not know what you are talking about,’ Keane pronounced the sentence slowly and deliberately.
John rubbed his face.
‘Oh yeah, you do. You’ve been with us and then feeding them from day one, it’s clear as day. You can keep on denying it, while we know that it’s just more lies but all the time you do you stay down here.’
‘Yeah? Let’s see what my attorney has to say.’
Reed laughed out loud.
‘Attorney? What the hell? You know where you are, right? It’s exactly like John just said, you’re staying here, you go no place until we get some answers. Attorney, Jesus,’ Reed snorted.
Keane’s cheeks flushed angrily.
‘This is bullshit, you can’t keep me here. I know the law.’
Turner spoke for the first time, impassively looking at Keane.
‘Law? You, of all people talking to us about the law? Right now, this is the law. Nobody has any idea you are here. You belong to me. I’ve heard everything, and I believe that you are guilty as charged. So my advice Mr Keane, is you do as you are asked and start talking, because you can rot down here for all anyone cares. These cells are here for dangerous prisoners, soldiers who have committed serious offences and are awaiting transfer to Leavenworth or Midwest. But they aren’t used anymore, there’s a whole new system in place. Army finally went digital. And that means you are on your own, and you are staying where you are.’
John glanced at Turner gratefully, it was obvious his words had an impact.
Keane turned and sat down on the bunk.
‘I don’t know anything. This is all horseshit. You’re not listening,’ he mumbled.
Reed stepped back and closed the gate, and turned the key in the lock loudly. Turner walked over and spoke through the bars.
‘We’ll leave you to think about this. You’ll get food and water. It will be put under the gate. My officers will not talk to you. We will be back tomorrow. You’re not in jail, not like you know it. There is no recreation, no yard time, no TV, no library. No nothing. Just you, in this cell. This is going to get old, and fast.’
Turner spun round smartly and led the way up and out. Once they were back upstairs in the lobby Reed looked through the window in the wall and assembled his team.
‘Ok, you know this man is not in the military. This is an ongoing situation, everything is unclear right now. He is to be fed and watered as normal, but I want two taking it in every time. Leave the tray and go. No talking, don’t even look at him. Nobody goes downstairs on their own, and nobody speaks. Apart from chow time the only people that go in are major Turner, me, Sergeant Gonzalez and finally this man here, John Smith. Whatever he asks for, he doesn’t get. If he starts making a real fuss and it gets out of hand, call me. Do not enter into conversation at any time. And finally, if anyone shows up here that shouldn’t be anywhere near this place, put them straight into a normal cell and let me know. Am I clear?’
The men and women who surrounded him agreed.
‘Good. I will keep you all informed.’
He looked at John, who nodded.
‘Ok Tom, let’s get back to Santa Monica.’
***
It was turning into a long day, and Sammy was starting to despair. She really hadn’t considered what she was hoping to achieve by coming over to Santa Monica. Had she really believed she would just wander into a hotel and he’d be sitting in the lobby?
There were so many hotels and motels, and so many people. The place was very busy, and there was no clear distinction where it started and ended. She had been based in the same location for close to four hours, and had to finally admit he might easily have walked past a hundred times and she could have missed him.
She hadn’t really gone into any detail of her plans with Simon, and she realised that was a big mistake. He had lived in LA his whole life, and knew it well. He would have been able to advise her, although it would probably have been ‘I think it’s a waste of time, Sammy.’ But he would have at least offered to come down here with her, he would have done everything he could to help.
Feeling defeated she dug her mobile out her bag and called him.
As anticipated, he listened to what her plan had been with disbelief, but it wasn’t in him to criticise her.
He told her about a rooftop bar at the edge of Venice Beach, which had a good view of the area and a lot of visitors went there, but other than that he didn’t really have any suggestions.
Rooftop bar? What the hell, why not? A glass of wine would go down well, she told herself. Then she would find somewhere to stay.
Simon told her he would head down there later, maybe they could get dinner. As cheerfully as she could she said that it would probably be a bad idea and hung up the phone.
She thought about Moran and the way he had looked at her, and the obvious threat in his voice when he told her that against what he believed she could go and do it. How was she going to explain this to him?
She sighed so heavily as she got out her seat that everyone around her stared, then walked slowly back down to her car. She sat there for a while watching the sea, wondering how the hell she could have been so optimistic when she had first arrived here.
She shook her head, twisted the key and the engine fired up. She rolled toward the car park exit and spotted the low fuel light was on.
Typical.
Chapter Thirty
Reed had changed back out of his uniform and they headed over to Santa Monica in his own car, a battered and faded Mustang that he was clearly very proud of. They didn’t talk much on the way, both men were starting to really feel the tension in the situation. At any moment they expected to hear of some new event that had occurred, and both felt powerless to prevent anything further happening.
Reed believed Keane would crack sooner rather than later, to be locked up on his own with nothing and nobody around would do it. But privately, John wasn’t so confident. Keane had completely fooled him, if it hadn’t been for the gun he would never have completely believed that the man was the leak, and he wondered how long this had been planned, and how deep Keane’s involvement really was. John didn’t believe he would be right a
t the top, but he could well be a lieutenant for all they knew.
Judy had been confident but in the end struggled with the track on Pinsky’s phone. It turned out that he was on record with the FBI, Homeland Security and the CIA. He was connected to the Russian consulate in Washington, and listed as an attaché to the Military, although his exact role was unclear, as was why he was spending so much time in Las Vegas and Los Angeles. He had served in the KGB, and as far as anyone could tell had no criminal record, either in the US or Russia. So, because she could not confirm any crime only suspicions Judy’s request was immediately denied, which had put even more pressure on John and Reed to get something out of Keane.
But Judy had kept them informed; she wasn’t giving up. She was determined, doggedly looking to avenge not just Kyle Warner but also the innocent women at the Metro station so began persistently calling in favours all over the FBI, and had discovered that Pinsky had been detained as part of a raid on a house in Baltimore several years previously. The local police were watching a man suspected of people trafficking and had built up a solid case. The story was this man had thrown a party at his home, and many girls, some of them very young were seen entering the property, shepherded inside straight out the back of a van, everything being recorded by the watching surveillance team. They had seen enough, so called in reinforcements then stormed into the building armed and ready; everyone was taken away for questioning.
Pinsky was one among many others detained and had been held for some time but eventually released, mostly due to his diplomatic status but the police had found he was carrying an unlicensed Beretta handgun and a small amount of cocaine on him. He had denied all knowledge, claiming they must have been put in his jacket when the house was raided but his fingerprints had been found on both.
Baltimore PD had a dilemma; they weren’t used to dealing with suspects like this. He appeared to have no connection to the target they had been working on other than being invited to the party. In fact at the time of the raid he was not found with any of the girls. Despite the weapon and the drugs he was released, but flagged as ‘a person of interest’.
As soon as Judy found this out, she cranked up the pressure and eventually her own chief relented and went to bat for her.
The trace would go live later today or first thing tomorrow all being well, which was great news and both John and Reed felt their motivation returning on hearing the news, getting the call just as they entered Santa Monica.
Although neither man was particularly concerned for their own safety they had decided to get out of the Ocean Vista, but opted to stay somewhere else in the immediate area. Money was no problem, there was a massive wad burning a hole in Reed’s pocket, so the first thing they did was to settle up and move along the beach to where the bigger more mainstream hotels were. They had a scout around while they were at the motel; the car the two men had arrived in was still there as was Keane’s, both were unlocked so they quickly searched them, finding another mobile phone in the door pocket of Keane’s car. It was an old, basic model, and they could see a lot of missed calls, from many different numbers. One of them looked familiar so John called Judy, she confirmed it was the number they were starting the trace on.
Even more confirmation to what they already knew, even more ammunition, but John knew that Keane would continue to deny everything.
He stuck the phone in his pocket then they followed the crowds and checked into a nondescript Marriot right on the seafront.
John went up to his room and stood looking out the window. His room wasn’t on the shore side, his view was of the wide street, a big petrol station right opposite. He watched the traffic and considered what to do next.
The problem was obvious, they were moving too slowly. They needed a backup plan.
They had Judy and the phone trace, and they had Keane locked up, which should surely be enough to pin at least Pinsky down, and hopefully others whoever and wherever they were but what they didn’t know was how long it would take and how long they actually had before something else happened. There could be any number involved anywhere in the city and once they found whatever it is they were after they would probably disappear.
The biggest issue for John was he kept coming back to Keane, and the man’s refusal so far to admit anything or to talk. He would have been through this many times before, from the other side of the table. He would know all the tricks and have seen delaying and avoidance tactics over and over. The only ace they were holding was keeping him isolated and unable to contact anyone, but he was holding out so far. John couldn’t help wondering if this would last, everything was taking too long. He could feel his brain slowing, becoming bogged down. There were too many uncertainties, and it felt like he was totally reliant on things he had no control over.
He turned and left the room, crossing the corridor to knock on Reed’s door, who opened it looking out blearily as if he had been asleep.
‘Come on,’ John said, ‘there’s someone we can talk to. I think you might enjoy this.’
They went downstairs, and as they crossed the lobby one of the receptionists hurried across from behind the counter. John remembered her from when they had checked in, and smiled. She had gone very gooey over Tom Reed, lots of smiling and attention. If Reed had noticed he hadn’t said or done anything; maybe he was used to attention like this from women. Probably, he was handsome in a clean-cut way and was of course, absolutely massive. She was young, early twenties, pretty and skinny with a mass of light brown hair. She ignored John completely, asking Reed if his room was ok, did he need anything, could she sort out dinner for him? Reed thanked her politely then they left the hotel. John led the way back up to the wide four-lane road, and then started back toward the Ocean Vista but keeping on the shore side. There were several turnings off and he checked each one carefully, before heading down and then stopping outside a dark, narrow shop front.
Reed looked closely.
‘What is it?’
‘It’s a bar,’ John replied and pushed open the door. Inside it felt even smaller than last time with Reed next to him but he made his way to the back ignoring the looks from the few customers and then down the steep stairs. At the bottom he paused and then knocked hard on the door.
‘Fuck off!’ was the immediate response from inside.
Reed chuckled and then shoulder barged the door so it crashed open and John stepped back into Billy Wheeler’s office again. Billy was sitting on the sofa with a blonde woman who was hastily rearranging her clothes.
‘Hello again Billy,’ John said amiably as he stepped to one side to allow the woman to rush from the room.
‘Fuck do you want?’ Wheeler replied, eyes fixed on Reed who was stooped down in the low office.
‘Well, we need to have a talk. And it would be best if you didn’t start fucking us around. My friend Tom is getting a bit fed up of people doing that.’
Wheeler stood up, and then sat straight back down again.
‘Talk? I guess so. What the fuck we got to talk about?’
‘Ron Keane,’ Reed replied.
‘Keane? That motherfucker. I knew he was going to cause me shit, I fucking knew it. That asshole has been after me for years, he was the same with my dad. Well fuck him.’
‘I was kinda hoping you’d say that,’ John replied.
‘What the fuck do you need?’ Wheeler was just resigned to whatever was going to happen.
‘I need you tell me what he asked you about the gun.’
Wheeler confirmed what they already knew, and John couldn’t see the point in any violence so they left the bar and walked back up the four-lane to sit at the counter by a long window in the petrol station opposite the hotel. They were drinking, or trying to, stewed coffee that tasted like it had been brewed in the 1980s. John watched the activity on the forecourt outside, and saw a red BMW convertible pull up and an attractive woman step up to the pump and produce a credit card. She looked vaguely familiar.
I wish, he thought to himse
lf.
He saw her insert the card, push some buttons, frown, repeat the process, frown again and put the card away then turn to walk over toward where they were sitting.
She was really cute, perfect.
She glanced over at the window as she approached, then glanced again, eyes wide.
She’s spotted Tom, though John, smiling inwardly. He hadn’t believed his eyes either when he first saw him.
She was standing still staring in, and John suddenly realised it was at him. Not Tom. He looked behind, but there was nobody there. She recovered, and hastened to the door, pulling it open and then she was standing next to him, still staring.
‘You’re … you’re John Smith!’ she said breathlessly.
He looked at her, and smiled. He knew hardly anybody in Los Angeles. Maybe this was his lucky day. He didn’t get many.
‘I’m sorry,’ he replied. ‘I don’t think we’ve met.’
‘I’m Samantha King. Sammy. And yes, we have met.’
John shook his head, still smiling.
‘I’m sorry, I think I would have remembered.’
Sammy tilted her head to one side, which made her look even prettier.
‘Outside the Metro station. I was the woman who asked you if you had anything to say. I present news and current affairs for LA Plus.’
John stopped smiling. He recalled the crush outside the station, the press, the crowds and the police vehicles everywhere, and the camera in his face. The determined woman with the microphone, he hadn’t taken a lot of notice but this could easily be her.
‘Right. Yes, ok,’ he said shortly. ‘Nice to see you again.’
He turned back to face Tom Reed, but Sammy wasn’t going to give up that easily.
‘I’ve been looking for you John. I really want to talk to you. I heard what you did. On the platform I mean, and I know you are working with the police. Helping them.’
John looked at Reed for help, but he clearly had no idea about how to deal with this either and just wore an exasperated expression on his face.