CHAPTER 41
Anderson was there an hour and a half early outside of Wrigley Field at the junction of Clark & Addison Streets. He drove around the area searching everywhere for a sign of Derek or Jeannie.
Anderson hated having to leave his cell phone with Victor in case Jeannie escaped from Derek and needed to call him, but he left word with Victor that if that happened, he and Roman should help her with anything she needed. Anderson knew it would be a problem anyway having his own phone with him because if the authorities really want to know where someone is located, they can pinpoint just about anyone’s location within a few feet using the GPS information transmitted by their cell phone.
Anderson still had another cell phone on him although he turned it off and left it in the car per Derek’s instructions when he finally stood out on the corner to wait for Derek to contact him. Anderson always carried an extra pre-paid phone just in case Jeannie ever lost or misplaced the one he gave her. That was the phone he used to call Victor from the privacy of a service station washroom right after Ward gave him the lowdown at the auto pound on what to expect regarding Derek. Anderson didn’t want Crotty or Peterson to see him making a call and get suspicious when that call didn’t show up on his phone records. He figured the police would at least monitor his primary cell phone and pull the numbers of anyone he dialed.
Luckily, Victor was home when Anderson called and was happy to help. Anderson asked Victor how close he was to one of those party supply & costume warehouse places and that was where Victor was able to grab the wig and moustache on his way over to the Heart O’Mine. Anderson just had to stall driving over to the motel to give Victor and his family time to check-in before he, Anderson, arrived back there with Crotty and Peterson in tow. Anderson accomplished that by driving to Jeannie’s apartment yet again, checking it and waiting there for an hour or so. Anderson already knew the adjoining motel room next to his at the Heart O’Mine was vacant for Victor’s family to occupy because it was usually empty, and it wasn’t the weekend anymore, and johns and drug addicts don’t like to climb stairs.
Crotty and Peterson found out soon enough that Victor Sanchez didn’t know anything about Anderson’s whereabouts. Victor willingly went “downtown” for more questioning after Anderson was able to give them all the slip. Crotty hoped the menacing environment of the stationhouse might loosen Victor’s tongue but all Victor knew was that Anderson was going to drop his wife and child off somewhere and give them cab fare to get home and he, Victor, was just watching Anderson’s room.
Max and Doyle also went and talked to the help at Taste-T Burger who confirmed that a guy (who resembled the mug shot of Derek) bought a couple of burgers and orders of fries and asked them to deliver the second “cheeseburger deluxe order” to the Heart O’Mine, and “yeah, he could have stuffed a note in the bag” but they “never saw it.”
So Anderson was on his own now. He wanted it that way but he felt vulnerable standing alone on the corner in front of the darkened stadium. Derek was smart about picking this spot for him to wait. It was a wide-open, exposed, unprotected space where you couldn’t even park or idle in your car for a few minutes without getting towed or eventually having a cop car roll by to move you along. The closest parking was several hundred yards away and that’s where he had to temporarily stow Roman’s Ford Expedition after he had Roman meet him to switch cars in case Crotty put Victor’s Chevy Cobalt on a watch list.
The Chicago Cubs baseball team was out of town on an early season road trip but the neighborhood haunts were still hopping on the streets that extended away from the ballpark. Anderson got to his position about ten minutes ahead of time leaving no chance he would miss Derek. It had stopped raining. He watched the ex-suburbanite just-out-of-college kids stumble drunk from bars on their way back to their first apartments, easy targets for the stick-up artists who periodically made forays from the not-so-nice areas of the city. He thought about how these “children” had no idea how dangerous the world could be.
Anderson also briefly reflected on how Tristan right now would only be five years and a couple of commencements from this scene and how she would have begged him to save the “safety speech” when she moved into her first flat with some other girls. Karen would have told him to give her “the speech” anyway.
But these were the things he had to sift from his senses.
He had to maintain complete focus.
It was now nearly midnight. Where was Derek?
Anderson looked everywhere.
In every direction.
Where would he come from?
Did Derek just want to shoot him? Maybe. Unlikely, if he could get money.
Would Derek want to take him to an ATM? But that would only net Derek $300 dollars, the limit of what can be withdrawn per day from an automated teller. Again, unlikely.
Anderson had three thousand dollars on him. Would that placate Derek? Buy him off? Probably not.
Anderson looked at his watch. Midnight. Where the hell is he!!!
Anderson could barely breathe now. He threw glances all over. He tossed a look over his shoulder, past the neon-lit Wrigley Field main entrance marquee, into the darkened confines of the stadium. Could Derek have gained entry there?
Blaring car horns made Anderson snap his gaze back directly in front of him to the intersection where motorists cursed one another after cutting each other off. Their “fuck you(s)” and motherfucker(s)” were flint for fiery road rage but thankfully fell like idle boasts as they went their separate ways.
A bicyclist came out of nowhere and streaked by in front of him.
An “Out Of Service” municipal bus churned exhaust as it rumbled round the corner past him.
The bustle of barreling traffic from every which way stirred up mist from the dampened pavement.
There were screams across the street from inebriated coeds startled by a hiding male friend.
It was a few minutes after midnight when a towel wrapped with duct tape was heaved out of a passing car window and landed at Anderson’s feet. It happened so fast, Anderson didn’t have time to think whether it was a bomb, a prank or what it was because it was humming with a ringtone within seconds.
Anderson went down on a knee and extracted the ringing cell phone from inside the bundle. He had to locate the accept button on the handset of the cheap $10 pre-paid phone but quickly found it and answered fast.
“Yeah?!!” Anderson yelled into the mouthpiece as he peered at the receding tail lights of the vehicle from which the package must have been thrown. Was it Derek driving? Had to be. Could it be Jeannie’s Impala? Probably. Looked like it. It was a few seconds before Derek spoke.
“Hey, buddy! How’s it hangin’?” Derek’s slithery voice finally oozed over the clear connection. “Did you follow my instructions?”
“There’s no cops!” Anderson urgently replied into the phone. “Let me talk to her!”
“You didn’t bring any fuckin’ phones, didya? I know cops can follow that shit if they want to.” Derek snarled suspiciously.
“There’s no cops and no phones! Now let me talk to her!” Anderson erupted.
“Who?” Derek asked calmly, pausing briefly for effect, before adding, “Oh, you mean Jeannie?”
Anderson could barely control his rage at hearing Jeannie’s name being spoken with smarmy intimacy by Derek. Anderson stood up and continued to stare in the direction the car possibly containing Derek (and Jeannie) went but the lights now seemed to mix with other vehicles in the distance.
Derek pulled the Impala slowly around a far corner and parked, peering back towards the intersection where Anderson stood at Clark and Addison. He was glad Anderson hadn’t confided or decided to work in partnership with the cops. He didn’t think Anderson would include the police but, just in case, Derek had his Browning pistol ready on the car seat and was prepared to jump in the back seat if the cops had stormed the car whereupon he would have yanked down the backrest cushion and carried out a quick murder-
suicide by popping a couple rounds in Jeannie before turning the gun on himself or at the very least kill Jeannie before he then engaged in a shootout with police that resulted in a “suicide by cop” ending to his own life.
Yes, Jeannie was tied-up in the trunk of the Impala right now: blindfolded, bound and gagged. She was safe for now though very uncomfortable and frightened. Hyperventilating didn’t help her situation but she had ample air, as the average trunk holds 12 hours of oxygen if kept out of the sun. That was how Derek was able to wait for her in the parking lot behind Rave where the surrounding buildings blocked out most of the sunlight. Derek had learned all about rear seat assemblies and how to access the interior of a car via the trunk from time spent working in a body shop along with previous prison vocational studies. The Impala and Jeannie were easy takedowns.
However, like Anderson, Derek worried now about license plate recognition and had already gone out to the local harness horseracing track and swapped plates with a similar Impala in the parking lot. It didn’t take long to find one and he would chance it the owner wouldn’t discover the switch or be spotted by a patrol car that was actually equipped with the cameras and software to scan plates. (Crotty had found Jeannie’s registration and put her car on a “hot list” as he did with Victor’s Chevy Cobalt after Anderson’s getaway. So it was prudent for Anderson to have switched cars with Roman. Actually, Crotty had run all the plates of the vehicles parked in the Heart O’Mine lot even before Anderson pulled the switch on him, but there was nothing in any of that information that would have helped Crotty make the connection between Victor and Anderson.)
Still, Derek was erring on the side of caution switching plates and knew he needn’t worry because, while there are upwards of 20,000 integrated surveillance cameras in and about Chicago, very few “eyes in the sky” provide instant matches that result in immediate arrests, and as far as being spotted by a patrol car, which was unlikely, he didn’t plan on being on the streets much after this meeting with Anderson.
Anderson just wished now he had put one of those GPS real-time trackers in Jeannie’s Impala, like Ward had mentioned to him regarding the possibility of planting such a device in Ruben and Gabriel’s cars: the same devices people now put in their children’s backpacks, or Alzheimer’s patients or dementia-sufferers wear in their shoes. He didn’t want to appear crazy and Jeannie might have thought he was too controlling. He should have done it without asking her. Anderson hated “what ifs.” Thoughts of regret were a luxury he couldn’t afford.
“She’s tied up right now.” Derek gloated.
“Is she alive?!!!” Anderson howled, his voice shaded with real desperation.
Derek smiled at this. He loved being in control, it was like no other feeling in the world.
“How could we do business if she wasn’t?” Derek answered evenly.
“What do you want?” Anderson shot back.
“It’s a simple request.” Derek answered again as if he was in no hurry. “I just want fifty thousand dollars.”
“Fine, you got it.” Anderson quickly agreed.
“That was fast.” Derek responded, surprised by the speed of Anderson’s reply. “Maybe I should ask for a hundred.”
It was Anderson’s turn to be silent. He wasn’t going to play that game.
“Okay, fifty thousand.” Derek settled, not wanting to push his luck. “In twenties. But if you could throw in a few extra grand-”
“Where?” Anderson cut him off.
“Chicago River, South Branch.” Derek instructed. “At the Turn Basin, there’s an open lot. Meet me there tomorrow night. 10 o’clock. No cops or-”
“I want her there alive or you don’t get your money!” Anderson warned.
“I’ll tell you where she is after I get the cash.” Derek reminded him.
“You have her there!” Anderson shouted.
“I’m only a one man show.” Derek groused. “You’ll have to trust me.”
“Trust shit! You have her there!” Anderson was livid.
“No way, Jose.” Derek concluded. “But she’ll be alive. And you’ll get to talk to her. It’ll be the next best thing to being there.”
And with that… Derek hung up. For him patience was key now. He only needed a day or so to accomplish and settle his score with Anderson. He decided he would chill in an area where junkies hang out and where there’s little if non-existent police presence. Jeannie could remain tied up and wet or soil her drawers if she had to go to the bathroom. He didn’t want to talk to her because she would probably start begging or she could scream or he would lose control and rape or kill her before he had the dough. He had thought about spending the interim sexually assaulting Jeannie but there was time for that later if he could get his hands cleanly on the money first and get Anderson out of the picture. The plan was to gun Anderson down right away figuring the money would be on him or close at hand in whatever car he was driving. No, he would just wait for now. Prison teaches you abiding patience if nothing else, especially with a prize in sight. It also taught you how to go without sleep. Just have to not be stupid and crank up on some meth or do any kind of drugs! That’s what’ll take you down if you mix business with pleasure! Derek had learned that much, in his pursuit of evil. He flipped his cell phone on the car seat and drove the Impala away into the hours of darkness where he was most comfortable.
Anderson brought the cell phone down from his ear, lingering on the broken connection. Was Jeannie still alive? Was she unharmed? There was no way of getting away from one fact. He had brought Derek into her life. One way or another. He realized Jeannie was all he cared about now on this earth. He had known he loved her for a long time, but like always, throughout his life, he pushed those feelings to another place to be warehoused and dealt with at a later date. And he had to put all those emotions out of his mind one more time, or guilt threatened to consume him. His heart was bursting. He was only left with decisions and not much else.
CHAPTER 42
The young woman, one of several “Financial Advisor/Personal Banker” representatives greeting customers in the bank lobby, double-checked Anderson’s Driver’s License as she slid the safety deposit box entry log under the opening in the security glass for him to sign. The young woman had walked Anderson down the stairs to the bank’s lower level where the boxes were located. She didn’t know Anderson personally but that didn’t matter for the purpose at hand.
Once Anderson completed signing and dating the log, the young woman used the bank’s “guard key” along with Anderson’s required imprinted key to open the corresponding numbered stainless-steel solid alloy safety deposit door. She then removed his box from the vault wall, handed the large metal drawer efficiently to Anderson who walked it into a private viewing room where he shut the door behind himself for privacy.
Anderson didn’t need much time to remove from his safety deposit box the $50,000 he needed to pay off Derek. Anderson had over half of the required money in the requested “twenties” denomination (still crisply bundled by groups of $2,000 in violet kraft paper cash straps), but it took two more hours and trips to a half dozen additional banks to exchange the other $100’s Anderson had in his possession for the necessary $20’s which were essential to round out the ransom.
When they were switching cars Roman offered to “give” Anderson the $15,000 in cash Roman had on hand in his office safe, along with another $8,000 which he told Anderson he could get from his bank the next day, but Anderson informed Roman that wouldn’t be needed, and said he, Roman, had “done enough already.”
Anderson had ample funds to cover the extortion amount in his checking account but he didn’t know how much personal financial information Crotty had collected on him or how closely Crotty was monitoring his banking activity, if at all. Also, if Anderson took out such a large amount all at once, normally such a hefty cash withdrawal would require some advance notice on his part, ranging from a couple of hours up to several days depending on the size and the policies
of the bank branch involved. It would have also, at the very least, triggered Currency Transaction Reports and likely a Suspicious Activity Report (SAR), which are mostly useless government paper trails that further erode civil liberties and provide after the fact “aha, here’s what they were doing” moments for investigators once a crime or act of terror had been committed, neither of which would have held up Anderson getting his money, but were parts of a banking compliance process that may have possibly gotten too many extra people involved or perhaps asking questions at an inopportune time. Something that Anderson, after all, fortunately wouldn’t have to deal with in this instance.
Crotty, for his part, was done. And he knew he was out of the picture now. He didn’t have the warrants or manpower to monitor Anderson’s bank accounts in real time or blanket the places Anderson could possibly show up at.
Anderson needn’t have worried about Crotty or the police.
Crotty had another day or two of good graces to wait for a break in the case whereupon higher ups then wanted him back on routine. The only reason Crotty was allowed to “hang around” on the “search” was the fact the situation was still considered fluid and a matter of public safety mostly because of Jeannie’s possible plight and the fresh fugitive warrant on Derek, but that would still only go so far. Warrants are a dime a dozen in law enforcement. Cook County Sheriff’s Police have well over 40,000 active fugitive warrants pending in the county alone at any given time, a high percentage of those are probation violators, and the Central Warrant Unit only averages a few dozen captures or cleared warrants per week.
Derek wasn’t sweating this.
CHAPTER 43
The motel room Anderson found for new temporary lodgings was situated on the south side of the city and actually had water dripping from the black mold on the ceiling as Anderson readied himself for his rendezvous with Derek. On a table in front of Anderson was “the money,” 9mm shell casings, surgical tape and other paraphernalia. Visible under Anderson’s open shirt was what looked like a variation on some Army-issued ESAPI (Enhanced Small Arms Protective Inserts) body armor. He had been busy.
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