“Ooh, Max’s fancy screen. I’ve wanted to use this forever. Come on, she’s busy and won’t notice.” Dubs jumped up like she’d been receiving intravenous energy drinks for the past three years and raced across the room.
Dubs led Quinn into a conference room that had a full wall touch screen display. It was linked to a laptop and tablet which Dubs booted up. She handed the tablet to Quinn.
“You can write on here and it will show up on the screen. We can move things around as needed.”
“Fancy. Now it looks more like a superhero headquarters in here. All right, so let’s start with the things we know,” Quinn said, starting to take notes. “The CMCs are new to town. They operate differently than other street gangs, but we’re not sure why. They aren’t above violence and intimidation. And they really don’t want Holt poking around in their business. Does she only work in Rhode Island?”
“Last year they had income in the millions and funneled a lot of it through online daily fantasy sports to clean it. They made more money on top of that just from the daily games. And their leader is a guy named Malcolm,” Dubs said. “And no, Holt goes where investigations lead. We were in the middle of the woods in Michigan when we learned about Kevin Garvey.”
“Hang on, do we know those things are true? The millions of dollars in income and the money laundering?” Quinn asked. “Or are you basing that on what Malcolm told Lola?” She didn’t know if she wanted to admit it, but Dubs was right. This didn’t feel that much different than the early stages of idea and hypothesis generation when she was working on a new project or grant idea.
“Yes to the money laundering, maybe not the exact amount, but we can put it at roughly a shit ton. Malcolm is only self-proclaimed at this point,” Dubs said. “I knew you’d be good at this.”
Quinn moved closer to the full screen so she could look at her data more closely. She drummed her fingers on the tablet as she pondered.
“I’m naïve when it comes to the workings of criminal enterprises, but assuming Malcolm wasn’t lying about millions of dollars in income, where was all the money coming from? And how many people are in the CMCs? Do you have a map of their territory?”
“Nobody seems to know where the money is coming from. Poor Chief Sam seems especially frustrated about that,” Dubs said. “And she wasn’t clear on how many members they have. They’re still kinda new, and they aren’t behaving exactly like the other gangs out there. She said they could have a couple hundred members, or closer to a thousand. It’s not like they keep membership lists anyway. If someone gets arrested and the cops ask if they’re a gang member, only an idiot says yes.”
Quinn shook her head. This was all so new to her. “I guess I’ve never thought of that. You hear these sound bites on TV about gang task forces and creating lists of known gang members, but I never think how those are compiled. I imagine the data aren’t very clean. Is it common for the cops to know so little about a group though?”
“The data’s a mess,” Dubs said. “Here’s the map we got from Sam of the CMC territory. They’ve probably expanded some, but it’s more or less accurate. Usually cops know more. The CMCs are unusual in just about every way.”
The map Dubs put on the screen showed a vast territory controlled by the CMCs. Quinn thought about the thousands and thousands of people who must live in the constant fear she’d experienced for a short time if the CMCs ruled their neighborhood. She shuddered at the thought.
“I wonder if the crime data for these neighborhoods would give us a clue to what these guys are up to,” Dubs said.
“Wouldn’t the cops look at that too?” Quinn asked.
“Of course,” Dubs said. “But they wouldn’t be looking at it with my perspective. Let me pull it up. Can’t hurt to take a peek.”
“I’m never opposed to collecting data,” Quinn said.
Dubs pulled up the crime data.
“Whoa. I’m new to this, but that seems strange,” Quinn said.
“I wouldn’t have predicted that,” Dubs said. “Excuse me. That would not have been my hypothesis.”
The crime data showed crime had plummeted in the CMC controlled areas since their hostile takeover, and not just a little bit. Those neighborhoods were now some of the safest in the city, as far as reported crime.
“Are people just too scared to call the police?” Quinn asked.
“No idea,” Dubs said. “But that’s weird. And it sure as hell doesn’t help us figure out what they’re up to.”
“What revenue streams could the CMCs have? You say you’re the criminal, how would you make millions in a year?”
“I wouldn’t,” Dubs said. “I’m not interested in any of the paths I’d have to go down to make that kind of money. But if I were, hypothetically, I suppose the usual suspects are always in play—guns, drugs, prostitution, people smuggling. Since they’re obviously computer savvy, I wouldn’t rule out identity theft as well. But all of those are things the cops keep a pretty close eye on. It’s hard to smuggle goods, people, weapons, that kind of thing without anyone knowing about it. Sam didn’t seem to know where their money was coming from at all. Like no clue. That seems really strange to me.”
Quinn felt queasy thinking about the real lives and violence on the other end of Dubs’s statement. How could people be so cruel to each other?
“If it helps,” Dubs said, “we spend most of our time around here trying to prevent what you’re picturing right now.”
“How did you know?”
“Being perceptive is just one of my many talents.”
“But modesty is not,” Max said as she entered the conference room. “And what did I tell you about touching my toys?”
“Pretty Girl, I’m going to contain myself because Quinn is here, but replay what you just said and decide if that’s really something you want to insist on. You can let me know before the next time we’re having fun alone nak—”
“Dubs!”
Quinn was amused by their interplay and Max’s quickly reddening face. Despite her obvious embarrassment, she didn’t look all that upset by Dubs’s teasing. In fact, it was clear from just a glance how much they adored each other. Unbidden, Quinn wondered how Lola looked at her. Where did that come from?
“Was there something you needed? Quinn and I are working here,” Dubs said.
“I missed you. Isabelle is checking on George and had a few other phone calls to make so we’re taking a break. I came looking for you, but you weren’t easy to find. Now I know it’s because you were in here sneaking a turn with my babies.”
“Come look at what we’re doing. Maybe you can help.” Dubs quickly filled her in. “So now we’re stuck,” she concluded.
“I’m not so sure,” Quinn said. “If they’re dealing drugs, what would they need?”
“Supplier and product,” Dubs said.
“That’s what I was thinking too. And what about guns? Same thing, right?”
“Absolutely. And if they’re involved in human trafficking or smuggling, they’re going to need contacts and suppliers of sorts for that too. Probably not so much for prostitution, unless it’s tied to one of the others, especially the human trafficking.”
“Let’s set identity theft aside for a minute,” Quinn said. “All the other potential money makers have an outside supplier as a common denominator.”
“Even if they aren’t involved with one of the traditional moneymakers, they might still have the same business model,” Dubs said. She paced around the table while she talked. “Holt thinks someone else is involved, probably calling the shots.”
“If they’re a silent partner and want to stay hidden it might explain why they were so aggressive trying to get Holt off the case,” Max said. “If they have LAPD handled, Holt is a wildcard. There is so much fog on the CMCs it suggests a lot of what Malcolm said is true. The investigations are being stalled. But someone like Holt doesn’t get stalled and she isn’t part of the LA system. She would have no trouble blowing up their ecosy
stem. It might explain why they let Lola live as well.”
“Holt didn’t seem to think that should have happened,” Quinn said.
This exercise was much less fun when she remembered the reason for its existence. She sat in one of the conference room chairs and leaned her head back, closing her eyes for a moment. That was a mistake, as she once again saw Kevin Garvey’s dead body and Lola being tossed out of the SUV, barely conscious, onto the sidewalk. She tried to refocus on what was being said around her.
“Didn’t think what should have happened?” Holt asked.
“Hey, private party here,” Dubs said.
“It’s my conference room,” Holt said.
“Good point. Probably good you’re here anyway. Quinn and I have been talking about the CMCs and we have questions.”
“Don’t we all?” Moose asked as he and Lola followed Holt into the room.
Quinn caught Lola’s eye. She smiled at her and Quinn felt like her heart stopped for a few beats. That woman is dangerous.
“I know we’ve had different opinions on how to handle this case,” Holt said. “But everyone’s safety comes first. We’re still working with Sam, and we’ll nail these bastards as long as it doesn’t endanger anyone here. She called this morning and asked for a favor on part of the case. I’m worried about the risk of getting more actively involved again, but I think our fingerprints are still all over her investigation and so far there hasn’t been any additional escalation from the CMCs.”
“We’ve never run away from a fight, H,” Moose said.
“We’re not running away. I’m weighing the risks. We already discussed the likelihood that we’re in this till the end whether we want to be or not. I don’t think the CMCs and any silent partner they may have are quitters.”
Quinn watched the argument build and the tension grow. Holt looked like she was holding on to her temper by the slimmest of margins. No matter how much she wanted to return to her predictable, stable, not violent life, Quinn would never ask Holt to put her family at risk so she could do so. She was also not going to make Holt say, in front of her crew, that Isabelle’s and George’s lives were more important to her than Quinn and Jessica returning home, even if it was true.
“Little George, Isabelle, hell, everyone’s safety, is more important than my getting home quickly,” Quinn said. “You’ve shown me incredible hospitality. I’ll keep taking you up on it so everyone stays safe.”
Lola looked like she wanted to argue further, but Quinn shook her head and smiled. She hoped Lola understood. She didn’t protest so she must have.
“So what have you two been cooking up in here?” Holt asked, turning to Dubs and Quinn.
Quinn thought everyone was probably glad to turn to work.
“Quinn can explain,” Dubs said.
“Thanks, buddy,” Quinn said. Although everyone laughed at Dubs’s joking implication she was throwing Quinn under the bus in front of Holt, Quinn appreciated Dubs letting her lay out their simple work and conclusions. It meant a lot that Dubs was willing to give the spotlight to her.
“Max, get the rest of the crew,” Holt said.
When everyone was jammed into the conference room, Quinn and Dubs shared their thoughts. Quinn had continued working on the theory in her head since the meeting had been called, so she had a few additions.
“Two things of note. First, we compared the map of known CMC territory to the crime data from the city. There’s an inverse relationship between crime and areas controlled by the CMCs. Reported crime dropped precipitously. I don’t know enough to say if their taking over the territory is causal, but based on timing, they are highly correlated.”
“That’s just crime reported to the authorities, though,” Holt said. “I agree it’s strange to see the kind of steep drop you’re describing, but do we know if actual crime has truly gone down? Max, can you delve into social media, local news reports, and any other source material you can find to see if you can get some more evidence one way or another to confirm or refute this? What’s the second thing?”
Quinn liked the way Holt worked a problem. She was organized in her thinking—logical, thorough, and disciplined. She gave her confidence and she could see the others in the room fed off of Holt’s steady leadership as well.
“The CMC money has to be coming from somewhere, even though it’s currently a mystery. You said you think there’s a player behind the scenes who is either a partner or the one actually in charge. It makes sense that person also controls the money. We were thinking that even if they aren’t utilizing traditional bad guy moneymakers, they might still be using a similar business model. They might need suppliers, distributers, etcetera. Somewhere in that line we can probably find a way to the top.” Quinn wondered when she started thinking and speaking in terms of “we” when it came to combating the CMCs. I’m supposed to be finishing a grant, not developing a model for stopping a violent street gang.
“This is good work, you two,” Holt said. “If this theory is true—”
“We’re calling it the Sugar Daddy Theorem,” Dubs said.
“We absolutely are not,” Quinn said.
“Like I was saying,” Holt said, ignoring Dubs. “If there’s a silent partner pulling the strings and funding the CMCs, they’re not only using their power to control the CMCs. They also changed the street gang model. According to Sam, this gang is different from the others in growth and structure. It’s speculation, but perhaps not unreasonable to assume whoever is behind the scenes had a hand in creating the CMCs, or were instrumental in their rapid rise. Why? And how does the crime data, assuming it really has gone down, fit in?”
“What else happened in LA around the time the CMCs rose?” Moose asked. “I’d be interested to hear the chief’s perspective on our theory.”
Max started typing rapidly on her laptop. “Let’s see, the NFL looked like it was finally going to get a football team back in LA, the Dodgers were making a playoff run, it was an unusually hot summer, the drought was in full swing, it was a mayoral election year, LAPD busted a smuggling operation coming out of the port.”
“I want more information on the port case and the election. Max, did you and Isabelle find anything on the money?” Holt asked.
“We were working from Kevin’s skimmed money and back-tracing. Isabelle was able to follow the money back to the accounts set up for Garvey and the college kids, but all the deposits came from an offshore account owned by a series of shell corporations. It would probably take me months to crack them all, if I was ever able,” Max said.
“I’m assuming more of the same on the way out the other side?” Holt asked.
Max nodded. She looked glum. Quinn suspected there weren’t many computer problems she couldn’t solve. Dubs had mentioned Max wanting to redirect satellites to look for Lola when she’d been kidnapped. That kind of skill didn’t seem defeated often.
“I’ll confirm with Isabelle she is comfortable with the risk,” Holt said, “and if you are all okay as well, I’ll get in touch with Sam.”
Everyone at the table agreed. Quinn felt the fear that felt like it had had a vice grip on her innards for days return. Logically, she understood the need for Holt to help the LAPD, and that the threat hadn’t really disappeared despite being across the country, but logic didn’t matter when the people who swore to keep her safe were evaluating risk potential and were worried themselves. Playing pretend crime fighter with Dubs had been one thing. This suddenly felt like something else entirely, again.
Chapter Twenty-one
“Explain family dinner to me,” Quinn said. She and Dubs were driving to Holt’s house from the office. Quinn didn’t have her own transportation, but Holt had promised that would happen soon. For now, Dubs had offered to be her personal chauffeur whenever Lola wasn’t available. “Will I be meeting Holt’s mother?”
“Definitely not,” Dubs said. “But Isabelle’s sister will probably be there. She usually is. Family dinners are awesome. You’ve already met
most everyone who’ll be there. It’s Holt and Isabelle’s chosen family. We have dinner pretty regularly and are absolutely not allowed to talk about work. Isabelle doesn’t allow it in the house. Max is usually in charge of the bat phone just in case anything exciting happens, but mostly we just have fun. You’ll like it.”
“Why was Holt lecturing you about not getting a scratch on her truck? You seem like a pretty good driver,” Quinn said. She’d been a little nervous to get in the truck with Dubs after overhearing Holt reading Dubs the riot act, but it seemed she had nothing to worry about.
“I don’t know what kind of car thief she thinks I was. You can’t damage the merchandise before you chop it to sell it. She’s still a little miffed about her last truck getting stolen. I think it embarrasses her.”
Dubs seemed miffed that Holt had questioned her former professional skills. She eased into traffic and headed across town toward Holt and Isabelle’s house.
“How did you go from car thief to so settled down?” Quinn asked.
“I don’t think anyone’s ever described me that way,” Dubs said.
Quinn would have to agree, nothing about Dubs the individual ever seemed settled. Unless she was with Max.
“I mean with Max. You two seem so happy.”
“We are,” Dubs said. “She’s insane for loving me. Don’t tell her I said that. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. When I got shot last year, I thought I was going to die. I didn’t mind because I finally did something good in my life that I could be proud of. That felt nice. But I kept thinking how I wouldn’t see Max’s face first thing in the morning when I woke up if I died and what a bummer that was. That’s what I look forward to most. Is that the definition of being settled?”
“I don’t know,” Quinn said. “Maybe. It’s very sweet, whatever it is.” Quinn thought about what she most looked forward to when she woke up in the morning. It used to be work. Now she didn’t know.
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