The Greatest Good

by Craig N Hooper

  “What do you mean?”

  “You think I buy Dickerson’s story? That you just came here coincidentally the second Labonte was shot? You were watching Stanley’s house, weren’t you? You deliberately disobeyed my orders to leave this alone, didn’t you?”

  I didn’t deny or confirm. “Come on, Frank, you’re already down one agent with Labonte. You need me. I can help on this.”

  He stuck his finger in my chest. “You’re done; you’ve forced my hand. I’m putting you on unpaid leave.”

  “Frank, I’m sorry for forcing your hand. I get that you’re just doing your job. I’ve been pushing it because I have a lot at stake here. If you put me on unpaid leave, things only get worse for me, especially if Gina or the custody judge finds out. ”

  Frank took his finger off my chest, but he didn’t say anything.

  “Please, Frank,” I said, swallowing. “Everything’s crumbling.” I stopped before getting emotional.

  Frank turned away and sighed. He smoothed out his hair and put his hands on his hips. Finally, he turned back. “I’ll fill out the paperwork, but won’t send it to HR, not unless Hornsby or the governor request it. You’d better disappear and not push this anymore. One word from either man and you’re done. Got it?”

  I nodded.

  “Good, now give me your piece.”

  “Come on, Frank, really?”

  “Absolutely.” He wiggled his fingers. “I know you have a backup piece.”

  I reached back and handed over the Sig Sauer.

  Frank pointed the butt of the gun at me. “Disappear.”

  While Frank marched back to Stanley’s, I stood on the sidewalk and searched for something to punch or kick. I settled for the curb and took a step toward it, but Karla honked and distracted me. She pulled her blue Ford 500 over to the curb.

  “Get in,” she said.

  “Not a good career move for you, being seen with me and all.”

  “Get in.”

  I hopped in. “Thanks for bailing me out back there.”

  “After the couple of days you’ve had, I’m happy to. Buckle up.”

  “I’m fine with going through the windshield.”

  “I don’t want to have to clean that up.” She sat and waited.

  I buckled up.

  “Coffee sound good?” she asked.

  “Absolutely. If Hornsby catches us—”

  “I don’t care. I get the sense you’re not going to drop this case anyway. Am I right?”

  I shrugged. I knew the risks if I kept investigating, even if it was off the books. I mulled that over for a few seconds. In the end, I knew I had to keep pursuing this. I couldn’t sit back, watch things happen, and hope for the best. Not when life with my son was at stake, not to mention my reputation. I couldn’t let chance control my destiny.

  She pulled away from the curb. “You know a good place for coffee, Agent Chase?”

  “I do. And just Chase is fine.”

  “You can call me Karla.”

  She didn’t look like a Karla, not even close. Karla was a bad name for a woman, especially a cute one. But then who was I to judge, with a name like Garrison?

  We drove to Giuseppe’s Italian Coffee shop. The place was just around the block from my house. If a person wanted coffee, espresso, macchiato, or an Americano, this was the place. If somebody wanted a shot of caramel in their coffee or a silly fruit flavor addition, this wasn’t the place. Giuseppe wasn’t above reaching across the counter and strangling a person for such a suggestion.

  A deep, earthy aroma hit us when we walked in. Giuseppe carried on when he saw me; a lot of gushing in Italian and multiple hand gestures. Apparently he’d heard about the cops carting me away in cuffs yesterday morning. I ordered two large coffees and handed him two bucks. He told me if I didn’t put my money away, he’d stuff the bills into my mouth.

  Fair enough.

  We sat at a small table in the front corner of the shop. We both took a moment and enjoyed the coffee. As Karla sipped, I noticed her wedding ring for the first time. The ring was small and unassuming, like Karla herself. It didn’t surprise me that she was married. In fact, being the quality woman she was, it would have surprised me if she weren’t married.

  Karla put her cup down first. “So I wanted a first-hand account about Stanley’s shooter, about what happened at your place, about your visit to the LB police station. I heard some rumors about that, and it wasn’t in your reports.”

  “Not big on reports.”

  She smiled. “Figured that.”

  I took a swallow of coffee, then launched into the details about the break-in, run-in with Gates at headquarters, Stanley’s shooting, and my recent conversation with Frank. At first I was in no mood to chat about the case, but the more I talked, the less I thought about Simon and next week’s hearing. By the end of my talk, I was in full investigative mode.

  “You think this whole thing may be about your past?” Karla asked.

  “You heard about that?”

  She laughed. It was quiet, but infectious. “Who hasn’t?”

  “People without internet.”

  “Who are they?”

  “Anyway,” I said, “at first I thought this whole thing was about my past, but after Labonte being shot, this whole thing is about Stanley, and not me.”

  “You sure?”

  “Has to be. Labonte and I have no connection. Taking him out doesn’t hurt me, doesn’t embarrass me, doesn’t make me look incompetent, doesn’t feed into a payback theory. It has no impact on me.”

  “Right,” Karla said.

  “If this was about me and my past, if this person was out for me, they’d have no reason to take out Labonte. So this has to be about Stanley.”

  I suddenly felt a ray of hope. The fact that somebody from my past wasn’t out for payback was great news for me and my custody hearing, though terrible news for Stanley. But if I could prove that somebody was targeting Stanley, and ultimately stop that person, then I could prove to Gina and the custody judge that my past wasn’t a problem.

  “So why Labonte?” Karla asked. “That’s the question. And why not Pepperstein? Or for that matter, why not me? I was right there. Why not take all three of us out?”

  “Wrong question.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This is about Stanley, so why didn’t the shooter take him out? That’s the question.”

  “Right.” Karla clicked her fingernails on the table. “Pepperstein swung open the door. Stanley was clear in the doorframe. An easy target.”

  “Exactly. And that was the second chance the shooter had to take out Stanley.”

  “So whoever is behind this wants Stanley alive, clearly.”

  I nodded. “And that’s the important question. Why do they want the kid alive?”

  While I lingered over that question, I walked to the counter. Giuseppe refilled our cups. When he went into the back room, I threw a five-dollar bill over the counter.

  I approached the table and said, “Where’s your partner, by the way? How come you’re working this alone?”

  “He’s tying up loose ends on a case we just closed. We’re supposed to be working this together. Don’t tell the governor. I can’t imagine what he’ll do if he finds out only one agent is working the investigation and not the full-time four he requested. Anyway, that’s why I need your help.”

  “When was the last time the LA field office had four agents working around the clock on one case?”

  Karla nodded. We both enjoyed a sip of coffee.

  “What if,” I said, “this whole thing is a media stunt?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’re talking millions of dollars here, in terms of marketing, commercials, and sponsors. And you said the WBC was fine with what Stanley was doing. That his website drew more attention to the show, which in turn drew more viewers, which in turn made them more money. So clearly the network wants Stanley around. But what if they were responsible for Sta
nley’s death threats? Not threats they were actually going to carry through. Maybe they wanted to draw more attention to the whole situation. So they could ultimately make more money.”

  Karla scrunched up her nose.

  “A long shot, I know. But money makes people do things they’d normally never engage in. And we’re talking about a lot of money.”

  “But potentially murder?” she said. “That’s what we’re talking about. Not just hiring someone to break into your house and to shoot Stanley, which are bad enough. But now we’re talking about possibly killing a federal agent.”

  “You’re right, and why Labonte? What would they gain from that? Aside from more attention to the case. Shooting a federal agent means every law enforcement agent in LA County is out for blood. Which means a deeper investigation that needs answers and culprits and fast results. And they wouldn’t want that, not that type of attention and scrutiny. No way, no, forget it. My theory’s garbage.”

  Karla leaned forward. “It might not be. Besides, we don’t have another plausible theory. And we are talking about lots of money.”

  “But potentially murder?”

  We switched roles, like we’d been working together for years.

  “Maybe it’s hundreds of millions of dollars,” she said. “And it only takes one person at the top of the network to pull the strings. It’s not like this is a huge conspiracy among the top execs. Maybe one of them has a shady background and knows the right people.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe Labonte stumbled onto something in his investigation and he needed to be taken out.”

  “Now that I can’t buy. Not Johnny Labonte. No way. You met him. He wasn’t exactly the finest Long Beach had to offer. He had trouble understanding all of the fantasy football rules.”

  “It’s a theory,” she said.

  We reflected for a moment, then Karla continued. “Tell me, if you weren’t suspended, where would you start if you were in my shoes?”

  “Run background checks on the WBC execs. See if anyone has a shady past. Then find out exactly how much money was involved on the WBC end. After that, talk with Pepperstein. Grill him for all the details. Make sure he and Labonte didn’t know something that didn’t go into their report.”

  “How do I get you to help on the case without getting you in trouble?”

  “I’m already in trouble, more than you know, outside of work as well. So you should stay far away from me. If I could, I’d stay away from myself.”

  “I’ll get to work on Pepperstein and the network execs. But I know you’re not going to drop this. What angle are you going to work?”

  “The less you know what I’m up to, the better.”

  “Talk to me, Chase.”

  I finished my coffee. “I have to be super careful about working on Stanley’s case, so I’ll let you handle that for now. I want to find out about Anfernee Gates and who he works for. He has a beef with me and I have to find out why. I have a theory about his involvement, and I have to confirm whether it’s true or not. But I’m doing it way under the radar. I won’t be working in any official capacity. No way can Frank know I’m looking into anything.”

  Karla nodded. “How long have you been awake?”

  “Too long.”

  “Where are you staying? I’ll drop you off.”

  “Just around the corner. I can walk.”

  “You look terrible. I’ll drive.”

  “Thanks.”

  Just as I stood, Karla motioned behind me. I turned and saw an LCD flat screen hanging on the wall. My entire face filled the screen. It was an older picture of me so I had fewer wrinkles, and some hair. The volume was turned down. I had no idea what they were saying about me. A yellow banner at the bottom of the screen said Special Agent Garrison Chase. The screen suddenly flicked over to video footage of Frank escorting me out of Stanley’s house. I gripped the edge of the table with my left hand and tried to crush the cheap Formica top.

  Karla put her hand on mine. Her touch was warm and reassuring. “Are you okay?”

  I faked a smile. “You happen to have a hat?”

  We left Giuseppe’s and walked to her Ford.

  Karla unlocked the passenger door. “Tell me, without a badge or gun or access to your computer at work, how are you going find out about Gates? How can you possibly get any details?”

  “I have some connections.”

  She smiled. “I bet you do.”

  Karla walked around to the driver’s door. I stretched, turned my head, and cracked my neck. As I looked down the street, I noticed a car on the opposite side of the street. It was a Crown Vic.

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “What?”

  I pointed down the street. “Gates. He’s still tailing me, in that Crown Vic. Let me drive.” I hustled around to the driver’s side. “Scoot over, if you don’t mind.”

  “No way,” Karla said.

  “Come on, I’ll be careful.”

  “I can tail people just fine.”

  I wiggled my fingers. “I have control issues.”

  She reluctantly handed me the keys and crawled over the gear shift.

  “What the hell is he doing still watching me,” I said. “Especially now that I’m off the case?”

  “He’s probably smart enough to know you’re not going to drop this. What are you going to do?”

  “Go after him.”

  “Is that wise?”

  I shook my head. “I’m sure it isn’t.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Karla looked at me and asked, “What are you going to do if you catch up with him and he actually pulls over?”

  “Ask some questions.”

  “What kind of questions?”

  “Pertinent ones.”

  Karla pointed at the Crown Vic. “If you catch up with him.”

  The Vic shot out onto the street and squealed away. I punched it through the intersection. Karla gripped the passenger door handle as the Ford drafted tight behind the Vic.

  “Don’t you dare hit him,” she said.

  I let off the gas, but didn’t brake, missing the Vic’s bumper by a hand width.

  “This is nuts,” Karla said. “Seriously, you’re chasing a federal agent. Why is that again?”

  “Why’s he running? That’s the question.”

  “Because you’re crazy.”

  Ignoring the comment, I stared at Gates’ squinty eyes in his rearview mirror. I tried to match the intensity of his stare as I pumped the accelerator. “Come on, Ford.”

  “How do you even know that’s Gates? It doesn’t look like him.”

  Gates had a hat on, which was a weak attempt at a disguise. I knew it was Gates because of his eyes, and because his hair puffed out from the sides and back of the hat. Plus, he was in the same Crown Vic. “It’s him, I’m positive.”

  I had the gas pedal pinned, but the Vic started pulling away, first ten feet, then twenty, then thirty. I tried to coax the Ford on with my hips, but it was useless.

  “You’re never going to catch him,” Karla said. “Not in this car. Especially if he gets on the freeway up here.”

  She was right. In about five seconds, Gates would veer onto the 405 freeway. I grasped the steering wheel and squeezed.

  Karla put her hand on my shoulder. “Let’s find a better way to figure out what he’s up to. No use trying to chase him down on the freeway.”

  “You’re right.” I blew past the 405 on-ramp. As I did, I looked right and watched Gates race onto the freeway. “Maybe he’ll head back to LB headquarters. He could be working out of that station for some reason. You mind if we head there to see if he shows up?”

  “Fine, just slow down.”

  “Sorry.” I braked and slowed to the speed limit. “That guy gets me going.”

  “I can see that. You don’t have to grip the wheel so hard.”

  I released the tension on the wheel. “If you’d rather drop me off and get to work on the investigation, that’s fine.
But I have to find Gates and confront him.”

  “I’ll wait with you. Besides, I wouldn’t want to miss the confrontation if it happens.”

  I drove through some back streets and made it to headquarters in about five minutes. I drove around the block twice before finding a parking spot just down the street from the front of the building.

  After shutting off the engine, Karla asked, “So what’s your theory about Gates? Why he’s so interested in you?”

  “The governor hired him to watch me; that’s the only thing I can think of. To make sure I was doing a good job at protecting Stanley.”

  “You’re not on protection now, so that doesn’t make sense.”

  “That’s why I’m fired up.”

  Karla nodded. We started scanning the area.

  After about a minute, she said, “Like I said earlier, maybe he just wants to make sure you’re not pursuing this further. Maybe he knows your past, and that you have a hard time letting things go.” She smiled.

  I cleared my throat. “And what exactly do you know about my past?”

  “I know as much as the next person about your recent past. But I mean your past past. Prior to the YouTube thing.”

  So she had seen the YouTube clip. I was surprised she was willing to get into a car with me. “What do you know about my prior past?”

  “Honestly, not much. Your personnel file is pretty sparse, which prompts a lot of questions and intrigue. Maybe that’s what Gates is trying to figure out.”

  “You have access to my personnel file, or had access?”

  “I did some digging after reading your report. I had to explore every option. Wouldn’t you if you were taking over this case?”

  I nodded, appreciating her honesty. “What’s so intriguing about me?”

  “You never progressed beyond the rank of sergeant, yet you spent all those years with the Marines. And you’re obviously capable of being an officer, so that doesn’t add up. That was the first thing that interested me.”

  She scanned the area. “Second, by your own admission, you were involved with some sort of special ops unit. And it was with the Army, that’s what your file said, which means you were recruited out of the Marines, which means you were clearly a hotshot in the Marines, enough for the Army to take notice and pull some strings to get you out of there. And if the Army and Marines were involved, that means the special ops unit wasn’t limited to one branch of the Armed Forces, it was multifaceted. That suggests to me it was a crack unit authorized by the DOD, probably the Pentagon.”