by Mark Young
As he left the lounge, he made one more phone call from an inner-casino phone. “Okay, angel. Everything’s set.” He gave her the combination to his locker, hoping no one bothered to monitor this call. He hung up and returned to duty.
Dizzy glanced at his watch. Ten o’clock. He rose, glancing at his partner as he slipped into his jacket. “See you tomorrow. Don’t let the boss catch you sleeping.” The other man looked up with tired eyes. He grunted and turned back toward the wall of security monitors.
“Enjoy your hot date, Dizzy.”
Laughing, Dizzy took one last look at the monitors. He’d lost track of Steve Robinette since their encounter at the elevators. “I think the boss went home early.”
The other man grunted.
No one in the employee lounge when Dizzy arrived.
He went to his locker, pulled out his gym bag and saw the gift bag missing. He headed for the exit, looking over his shoulder and scanning the room.
Everyone on the main floor seemed uninterested.
He sighed with relief and strode toward the front door. He was several feet from the lobby when he heard someone yelling at him.
“Dizzy, wait right there.”
Glancing back, he saw Steve Robinette and two men walking toward him.
He felt his heart rate jump. He halted, glancing once toward the open door.
Robinette came closer, his face taut. The two men with Robinette were strangers. But one glance at these men told him all he needed to know. Hired pit bulls. Rippling with muscles and short on brains.
His boss eyed the gym bag in Dizzy’s hand. “Leaving a little early?”
“Nah. Boss. Got off a few minutes ago. Just heading home.”
“What’s in the bag?”
Dizzy felt his heart beating harder. He’d never been challenged like this before. Robinette must know something. “Just my dirty clothes.”
“Nothing else?” His boss did not smile.
“No.”
“Then you don’t mind if my men make a quick check, do you? Just a routine security check.”
Gritting his teeth, Dizzy held up the bag for inspection. One of the muscle men snatched it from his grasp and began pawing through it. The man reminded Dizzy of one of the muscle builders he saw at the gym. Spent most of his time looking in the mirror at his own reflection. After finishing the search, muscleman looked at Robinette, shaking his head.
Robinette’s face flashed disappointment. “We’re tightening up security measures across the board, Dizzy. I’m sure you understand. I want these gentlemen to escort you to your car, where they will conduct a brief search. Strictly voluntary, you understand.”
Dizzy stiffened. “That’s illegal, boss. You know that.”
Robinette gestured. “Like I said, this is strictly voluntary. But if you refuse, it might make me wonder what you’ve got to hide. And I can’t worry about what my security personnel are doing, now can I?”
Glaring at Robinette, Dizzy snatched his gym bag. “Let’s get this over with.” He marched outside, the two pit bulls trailing behind. Dizzy glanced over his shoulder and saw Robinette standing near the entrance watching every move.
Dizzy reached his vehicle, hit the alarm button and heard the locks automatically spring open. His car’s interior lights flicked on. “Make this quick,” he said, standing back, watching the two men closely. They searched quickly and efficiently, one taking the interior, while the other goon opened the trunk. Both men tossed anything that got in their way.
After trashing the car, the men emerged and gave Robinette a thumbs-down gesture. They began walking back toward their handler.
He took a deep breath and climbed into the car, throwing his gym bag into the back seat. After backing out, Dizzy carefully looked into his rearview as he drove from the parking lot. No other cars followed. Slowly, he pulled onto Highway 12 and turned east while still glancing into his rear mirror for any surveillance. No suspicious cars tailed him.
A mile further he pulled off the highway and into a gas station. He stopped near one of the pumps and climbed out. No other cars followed, although several vehicles whizzed past on the highway. He entered the mini-market and saw a woman loitering near where the refrigeration units stored cold beverages. The woman gave him a big smile.
“I thought you’d never make it.” The woman seemed nervous.
He grinned. “Angel, you’re a sweetheart. I’ll tell you what’s going on as soon as a friend of mine figures it out. Until then, this is our little secret, right?”
She seemed to relax. “I’m really good at keeping secrets, Dizzy.” She handed him the gift bag he’d left in his locker. “By the way, you need a deodorizer in that locker of yours. Tell your wife to freshen up your clothes once in a while.”
“And what if she asks why you’re nosing around in my locker?”
“That’s your problem, Dizzy.” She gave him a hug and walked away.
Chapter 69
Grangeville, Idaho
Travis rubbed his jaw, feeling bristles sprouting on his unshaven face. It had been nearly twenty-four hours since he enjoyed a shave or a shower. His eyes felt like someone was grinding sand into them every time he blinked.
He felt the cell phone vibrate, the phone another gift from Steele for this investigation. The caller ID on the display made his heart skip a beat. Sacred Heart Hospital in Spokane.
Frank?
He punched the send button and raised the phone. Jessie answered.
“Everything okay?” His heart beat faster when she paused before answering.
“Everything’s more than okay. Dad regained consciousness a little while ago. The doctor says the next twenty-four hours will be critical, but it looks very promising.” A catch in her voice hinted at the concern she tried to conceal.
“And you? How’re you holding up?” He waited. The sound of her voice jolted his tired body like getting an intravenous shot of caffeine.
“I’m doing fine, Travis. You?”
“Good. Just needed a little good news. Thanks.”
He suddenly felt awkward, like a school boy on his first date. The thought made him feel stupid. Man, I’m almost forty. Grow up. Still, he plunged ahead.
“I … miss you.” There, it was out.
Jessie laughed.
He felt his face heat up. “You’re laughing.”
“Sorry,” she said, although he heard a stifled giggle. “I never thought a hermit like you missed anyone. I’m touched.”
“You’re touched, all right,” he said, already wishing he’d kept his mouth shut.
“How’s the case going?” Finally she gave him a break.
“Good. Dizzy dropped off the tapes I requested last night around midnight. I’ve been going over them ever since.”
“You’ve been working on that for eighteen hours? Without sleep?”
His watch read 6 p.m. Now he understood why his eyes burned. “I’m almost through.”
“Anything interesting?”
“Not yet. I’ve focused on McPeters and the people he met.”
“And?”
“Nothing yet. I’ll give it a couple more hours. Maybe something’ll leap out at me.”
“No idea who he’s working with?”
“I’ve got a couple ideas. I’ll finish with the tapes and cross-reference it with phone records.”
“Get some sleep, Travis. Don’t run yourself down.”
Concern in her voice made him feel strange. A long time since someone cared about him. “Thanks. I’ll take it easy. And tell Frank I’ll be up as soon as I can break free.”
“He’d like that,” she said. “And so would I.”
As Travis lowered the phone, he felt rejuvenated. Energized.
He turned toward the computer, fast-forwarding the tape until he spotted McPeters perched on a bar stool. The man seemed to spend hours inhaling booze. He saw his boss push himself away and wander toward one of the card tables. A cocktail waitress trailed him, plying the man
with free drinks. Travis wondered how McPeters stayed upright.
Several hours later, according to the tape’s time recorder, McPeters wandered out into the parking lot and lit a cigarette. A moment later, he pulled out a cell phone and dialed a number.
Travis froze that frame, noted the date and time on the screen, and pulled out all cell phone records for the case. He thumbed through until he found McPeters’ cell phone calls and scanned down the page until he reached the date and time on the sheet which matched the time stamp on the video.
He highlighted the phone number McPeters called. Writing the number down, he began a search of all phones connected to every subject listed in the case. The numbers had been entered in numerical order by area code and telephone number.
It only took him a minute to locate the number. His finger followed the dotted line from the number to subscriber information. As soon as he saw the subscriber, he felt his pulse quicken.
He finally found the connection. He grabbed the phone and dialed.
John Steele answered.
“John, how quick can you get back into the office?”
“Half an hour.”
“Make it fifteen. We’ve got a break.” He lowered the phone and smiled.
Chapter 70
Clearwater River, Idaho
Travis watched Steele fidgeting. He knew what was troubling the lawman. Suspect baited and hooked. Now — will the fish take a bite?
As soon as Steele arrived, Travis began laying out his plan. They’d driven to the Three Rivers Rafting Company parking lot to make the phone call to McPeters. Travis was not certain where McPeters might be at the time of the call and he wanted to be in place before contact. McPeters said he was in Pullman, a three-hour drive away.
“I gotta be honest with you,” Steele said, shaking his head. “I’m not wild about this idea of yours. Let’s just move in and make the arrest.”
“No. We’ve got to stick to the plan. This way, you’ll have all the proof you need.”
“How’d you know he’d take the bait?”
“Because he has everything to lose. I just told him if he didn’t meet with me, I’d go straight to the administration with what I knew.”
“He bit on that?”
“Yeah. I let him know I expected a little monetary compensation for keeping my mouth shut. McPeters is all about greed. That’s what he understands.”
“And what if he tries to kill you?”
Travis smiled. “McPeters doesn’t have the guts. Besides, I’m counting on you to cover my back. You’ve got a couple hours to get your men in place.”
Steele nodded. “I’ll do my best.” He climbed into his unmarked and rolled down the window. “I’m going to meet SWAT a couple miles down the road. I’ll give you a jingle when we’re set up. You sure he’ll come?”
“Worried about the overtime?” Travis smiled. “He’ll come. As sure as I know the sun will rise tomorrow. He can’t resist.”
“So, you’ll be set up in this parking lot when the suspect arrives. Right? And remember, don’t move from here. We can’t cover you if you go mobile.”
“Got it. I won’t budge. I’m going across the river to grab a bite to eat. I’ll be back here in plenty of time.”
“And don’t forget to switch the power on. That jacket I gave you has a mini-camera transmitter that gives us audio and visual. But only if you flick it on.”
“Okay. Don’t sweat it. I’ll power up when it’s time.”
John looked dubious, but whatever doubts he harbored he didn’t share. “I’ll give you a call when we’re set up.”
Travis waved as Steele pulled away. A pain shot through his side and the bandages pulled as he raised his arm. He tossed the bullet proof vest into his truck. There was plenty of time to put that thing on. He pulled on his jacket and felt for the switch inside his pocket.
Standing on the porch of the Three Rivers rafting company, he listened to music from one of the campsites. Voices carried through the darkness as campers settled in for the night. He gazed at the stars, unfettered by any clouds. Coolness from the night made him zip up his jacket.
Travis was reeling from the last twenty-four hour whirlwind of events. Following up on a hunch, he called Tom Kagan back in California asking for help. Kagan sent back his findings which cinched what Travis suspected. For the last couple of days, he’d slept a total of three hours. With Steele’s help, Travis poured over all the case files — security tape from the casino, financial records and computer data linking Scarsbourgh with those he’d been in contact with, and all phone records — trying to match his suspicions to the names in the files. Finally, he’d hit pay dirt. With this information in hand, he’d talked Steele into supporting a plan to flush out the shooter. At least, he hoped the plan would work.
His own survival might depend upon it.
Travis glanced at his watch. Eight p.m. Plenty of time for dinner across the river in Lowell. McPeters would not show for another couple of hours.
A new waitress was serving when he entered. Becky must have taken a night off. Travis picked the same table he and Jessie used that first time they met here. He sat where he could see Three Rivers in the distance. Lights flickered from campsites on the other side of the highway and the river.
The young girl, maybe nineteen, took his order — steak, baked potatoes, corn, and a salad. He felt like he was having his last supper. It had been a while since he ate a full meal.
Another customer left a newspaper on a nearby table. After the waitress returned with his meal, Travis grabbed the paper and began reading.
He had plenty of time to kill.
Travis’ cell phone vibrated as he sat in his truck trying to take a nap. He pulled it out and glanced at the caller’s number. John Steele. He glanced at his watch and saw it was almost 11 p.m.
“Travis, we’re all set. You got the vest on?”
“Nah. I was about to get suited up.”
“Well, hurry up, partner. This may be going down real soon.”
Travis hung up. He was about to slip the phone into his pocket when he felt another vibration. Another call coming in. He looked at the phone screen and saw the caller display.
McPeters.
Ahead of schedule. Travis reached inside the jacket and flicked on the monitor before he answered the phone.
“Travis, here.”
McPeters’ voice sounded wary, guarded. “I see you in the truck. I’m watching. Here’s what I want. Drive down the road and park where the Lochsa and Selway meet. I’ll be waiting … and watching”
There was a long pause. Travis started to kill the line.
McPeters spoke again. “Don’t call anyone. If I see you use that phone, I’m history. And your friends — dead. No one will be able to protect them. Understand?”
“I understand,” Travis said, although he thought McPeters’ warning strange. He knew the man did not have the guts to kill anyone himself. So, he must be warning Travis that if McPeters disappeared, the killer would be close behind to finish the job. Someone else — whoever McPeters worked for — was the real threat.
Who is McPeters fronting for?
Travis thought of Steele’s last admonishment about staying in place. He wondered if surveillance could cover his back once he went mobile. He hoped someone picked up the transmission from his jacket during the phone call. The phone line died. McPeters severed his connection.
He felt his phone vibrate again. Steele? He dared not even look at the display. He let the phone ring until the caller gave up. He couldn’t take a chance. He slowly backed up.
He hoped the transmitter hidden in his jacket could reach Steele’s receiver. “If you hear me, Steele, here’s what McPeters wants.” He quickly relayed the suspect’s orders. “Sorry to go mobile. But I don’t have a choice. He could be watching everything I do.”
Travis drove over the lip of the roadway near where the three rivers joined. He got out and started down the embankment, slipping on loose gravel
in the dark. Rushing waters filled the night air with the sounds of churning power. The noise threatened to drown any conversations he hoped to record with McPeters. Maybe if he moved closer to the target, he’d get the mike to work. McPeters might want to keep his distance.
He reached the bank and started working downstream. He trudged about twenty yards, using the moonlight’s casting halo to guide him in the darkness, when a figure stepped from behind a tree. “McPeters?”
“Who’d you think would be out here?”
Travis edged closer. “Thought you’d bring the person you’ve been working with.”
“Don’t get any closer, Travis. And let me see your hands.” McPeters started to step back in the shadows, closer to the trees. “Any tricks and I’m history.”
Travis held up his hands. “No tricks. Just questions.”
“You mentioned we could work out a financial arrangement here. That you’d keep your mouth shut.” McPeters appeared to be looking for surveillance. Travis hoped Steele’s men — if they were out there — knew how to stay hidden.
“That was before I knew you had a partner.”
“A partner?”
“Yeah. I started looking at the security tape of you at the casino. Twice I saw you meeting with Steve Robinette. Just friends or were you guys working together?”
“What are you talking about?” McPeters looked puzzled. Travis could not be sure whether the man purposefully feigned ignorance or if he might be truly confused.
“Look, I know you went down to Santa Rosa and looked up my personnel files under some pretext. Then you must have handed that information off to Phillip Scarsbourgh. How much did you make on that deal?”
McPeters grimly shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“We don’t have to be coy here. After all, you’re going to pay me money to keep my mouth shut. That makes us partners, right?”
Travis saw a red dot on McPeters’ chest. A laser beam. The dot slowly climbed his chest. One of Steele’s snipers? Or someone else?
Dread clenched his stomach.