by Ty Patterson
‘He was wearing armor,’ Difiore exclaimed.
‘We found his bike.’ Dade smiled mirthlessly at their surprise. ‘We kept it off the news. No clues there. Burned in a parking lot. He’s gone. A ghost.’ She sighed and waved in the air as if to brush away the shooting. ‘You didn’t come here to discuss that.’
‘No, ma’am,’ Difiore replied. ‘Matteo was with the sheriff’s department previously?’
‘Yeah, he was a deputy there. He was responsible for bringing down a deputy gang in Compton.’
Her visitors nodded at that. The Los Angeles Sheriff’s Department was suspected to have several deputy gangs at various stations who harassed prisoners, planted evidence, turned a blind eye to some crimes, jacked up arrest rates and even killed suspects.
Those suspicions had turned to facts when Matteo had come forward with evidence on the Blue Brothers, a deputy gang that operated at his station, and his testimony and evidence had led to the arrests of several officers.
Matteo had become a celebrity for his actions and had gone on several talk shows but had also received several anonymous death threats.
He quit the sheriff’s department and applied to join the LAPD, where he had excelled and risen up the ranks.
‘What about him?’ the police chief asked her visitors.
‘He’s good.’ Difiore grinned. ‘We are impressed with his knowledge, the way he goes about his investigations, his file-keeping.’
‘Yeah.’ Dade lowered her voice. ‘This doesn’t leave the room … he could be Chief of Detectives if he continues in this manner.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘I’ve got to call the mayor. What was it you wanted to talk about?’
‘It’s about that attack on Sadler. Those videos.’
‘What about them?’ the police chief’s voice sharpened. ‘You have something? Why didn’t you say so when Vance was here?’
‘There’s one man in the city who has the motivation to go after Covarra. And the skills to carry out that attack. You know him.’
Dade half rose and gripped the desk. ‘Cutter,’ she breathed softly. They had an unspoken agreement that they would refer to him by his first name only when it was just the three of them.
‘Yes, ma’am. We all know why he’s hanging around LA. He could have returned to New York by now. Nope, he’s still here because he wants to find the perps. He knows Street Front’s involved in some way.’
‘You know what he’s capable of,’ Quindica chimed in. ‘You’ve known him longer than we have.’
‘I warned him myself,’ the chief replied. ‘But he isn’t breaking any laws.’
‘Until that attack,’ Difiore reminded her.
‘I’ll tell Vance. He might already have Cutter as a suspect.’
‘I doubt it. We spoke to him yesterday evening and he made no mention of our friend.’
Dade made to pick up her phone and paused. ‘Isn’t he your friend?’
‘He is,’ Quindica nodded.
‘And yours?’ The chief directed that at the NYPD detective.
‘Gina and Cutter have a complicated relationship.’ the FBI SAC said, smirking. ‘She likes him but will never admit it.’
‘He’s a loose cannon, a vigilante,’ the detective growled.
‘He could face a long prison term if he’s arrested,’ the chief said.
‘He’s your friend, too, ma’am,’ Difiore told her bluntly. ‘I think the three of us think the same way. Cutter’s close to all of us but gets no special privileges because of that.’
‘I’ll get Vance to investigate him.’
‘Matteo won’t get anywhere.’
‘Vance is good.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ Difiore got to her feet and started to leave the chief’s office with Quindica in tow. ‘But Cutter … Vance Matteo will have never come across anyone like him.’
23
The subject of their discussion was at the Lintock Foundation, in the lobby watching the TV as he waited for Brae to come down.
‘That’s something,’ a visitor chuckled as the video of the Sadler attack came up. ‘That rider …’ he whistled in admiration.
I was lucky to get away without any injuries. Those hitters took a long time to recover; otherwise they could have picked me off.
There had been no calls or messages from Covarra.
He won’t make contact so quickly. He’ll be hunting me.
Which was why he was at the Foundation.
He looked up as Judith brought down Brae, who smiled broadly at him.
‘Judith said I should call you Friend. That right? Surely you have a name?’
‘Friend will do.’ He grinned. That was smart of Judith not to give away my identity. He was in the same disguise he had used when rescuing her. ‘How are you doing?’
‘This place is great,’ she gushed and launched into how her rehabilitation was going.
‘You saw that?’ He gestured at the TV when she finished. ‘Someone attacked Covarra.’
She shuddered. ‘It’s all I could think of when I heard about it. But Judith assured me no one will suspect I am here. I’m registered under a false name, and my date of check-in is a week before when we actually arrived. She tells me the security here is the best. No one can break in, cops patrol past here continually.’
‘She’s right.’
‘How can I thank you?’ Her eyes filled as she clutched his hand.
He felt awkward and glared at Judith when she snickered softly at his discomfort. ‘Anyone would have helped you.’
‘No.’ Brae shook her head decisively. ‘That’s not true.’ Her eyes widened suddenly. ‘Are the cops looking for you?’ she whispered, ‘for Moe, Dime and the others?’
‘I can handle myself.’
‘I won’t tell anyone,’ she murmured, leaning closer. ‘Is that why you came? You don’t need to worry. I haven’t even told Judith.’
‘If the cops do question you, tell them everything. That I,’ he gestured at himself, ‘helped you and brought you here.’
‘Won’t they—oh.’ She broke off. ‘That’s a disguise. That’s why Judith won’t speak your name.’
‘Covarra,’ he said, dodging her comments, ‘do you know what other hideouts he’s got?’
She glanced at him for a long while and then at the TV. She licked her lips as the video played and gripped his forearm tightly. ‘Moe and Dime, they controlled two neighborhoods in East LA. I don’t know anything much beyond that. Covarra’s house on Hubbard, the address I told you, the one that got hit.’ There was a knowing look in her eyes. ‘That’s what I overheard when they were talking. I never met Snake or Fuse.’
‘Do you remember anything else? Where else the gang has places? They must stock their drugs, money, in many places.”
She frowned and bit her lips as she gazed into the distance.
‘Moe took me once on a drive,’ she said slowly. ‘In East LA. Verona Street. He looked at a house and laughed. Said Fuse’s name was enough to remember that address.’
‘Salazar Park?’ Cutter knew the area. ‘The house was near it?’
‘Yeah.’ Brae nodded. ‘It was on a corner, I remember that much. He said it was valuable. I laughed, said every house in LA was expensive. He shook his head, started to speak, but changed the subject.’
He waited and let the silence build until she shook her head. ‘That’s all I remember,’ she said apologetically.
‘Any other places?’
‘No.’
An address would have been better, but he would take what she had given. It was a starting point.
Judith took Brae’s seat when she had left and gave Cutter a piercing look. ‘I’m not stupid,’ she informed him. ‘I can put two and two together. From what’s on TV, what she said and what she didn’t say.’
‘It’s better you don’t ask—’
‘I won’t. I’ve heard of the Street Front. I fully expect you to show up on the news. Either as arrested or dead.’
His friends n
ever failed to cheer him up.
He had an address, however.
Nope, he corrected himself. A street and a park. He could narrow it from there.
24
‘I reached out to a police captain I know,’ Salazar briefed Covarra that evening. ‘A task force is investigating the killing at Moe’s and also that rider. He doesn’t have access.’
‘Toros from the Armenian Bros called me.’ The Street Front boss nodded and said bitterly, ‘He doesn’t know anything about those women. He’s not senior enough.’
‘We can set up a meeting with Janikyan, in a safe place, and ask him.’
‘You think he’ll tell the truth?’ the leader burst out. ‘He’s been encroaching on our territory. He’s hit our warehouses several times. He’s tried to attack me. No. We are not meeting him.’ He paced the room as he thought aloud. ‘How did that rider know where we were? Only our top lieutenants were aware of that Hubbard Street house. You vetted the guards personally—’
‘Are you accusing me of—’
‘No, you fool. Don’t you think I would have killed you if I knew you were a traitor? Moe!’ He waggled his finger in front of Salazar’s face. ‘He and Dime knew of that house. Their killer could be the rider.’
‘You could just call that number and find out what he wants.’
‘No! I need to know more. What is he after? Why does he suspect us? And,’ his voice rose, ‘I AM FRANCISCO COVARRA. I AM LEADER OF THE STREET FRONT.’ Veins stood out on his forehead as he yelled. ‘NO ONE IS GOING TO DICTATE ANYTHING TO ME. UNDERSTOOD?’
‘Yes, Snake.’
Covarra resumed pacing, placated by Salazar’s muted answer. He turned at the wall and stopped suddenly.
‘Didn’t Moe have a woman?’
‘Yes, boss, but she’s missing.’
‘Find out if anyone else knows her. She might have gone to friends or family. She’ll know who that killer is.’
He fumed when the deputy left. Why was it that he had to do all the thinking? Fuse was his friend, his deputy, but there were times when the man was slow to grasp or comprehend.
He looked up when his deputy returned with a shout and gleaming eyes.
‘You found that rider so quickly?’ Covarra spat at him.
‘No, Snake. But we’re looking in the wrong places and asking the wrong questions.’
‘You’re not making sense.’
‘That man was asking why we killed those women. He must have some close relationship with them.’
Covarra stared at him. ‘Yes,’ he whispered, ‘call our police captain. Find out where the women were staying. Whether they had families—’
‘I did. One woman lived in East Hollywood. The other was her sister, visiting. No kids, no other family. But,’ his voice rose in excitement, ‘some man from New York collected the bodies. A close friend.’
‘Where’s he staying?’
‘At their house.’
Covarra rubbed his fingers together as if he could feel the man’s neck in his hands.
‘Send people. Bring him.’
25
Cutter went to Hubbard and recovered his Durango, which showed no signs of having been searched by the cops. He drove past Covarra’s house, which still had a sizable police presence, took Eastman Avenue and hung a right on Whittier Boulevard.
The late evening was spectacular, with streaks of orange in the sky. Dark clouds roiled in the distance, hanging heavy, and for a moment he thought they were smoke from California’s fires.
Nope, he shook his head. Nearest one is Bobcat, in the Angeles National Forest. The county’s fire department was battling it, not close yet, but every resident of the city was aware of the burning devastation and cast their eyes to the sky frequently, as if expecting to see smoke and flames.
He put the disaster out of his mind and drove through the city towards his destination.
* * *
Salazar Park was a large recreation area on Whittier Boulevard. It had open spaces with play equipment, tennis and basketball courts, and an indoor center for various activities.
He circled it once. Whittier, Ditmar Avenue, Dennison Street, Alma Avenue and back to Whittier. No bangers that he could spot.
He drove down Verona and checked out the various houses on each side. Didn’t spot anyone who looked like hoods. He went all the way to Eastman Avenue and returned, slowing down on his second pass.
Brae said the house was on a corner and near the park. That could be either of the two houses on the two sides of the street. One had a wooden fence, a large tree on the corner of its front yard, pale walls and a flat roof. No garage that he could see, or driveway. There was an old Toyota parked on the street in front of it. The residence had a forbidding air.
The one opposite was more cheerful-looking. Chain-link fence, front yard with a child’s tricycle on it and a slide, potted plants and a drive that had a wooden gate.
Cutter parked his Durango behind the Toyota and got out and stretched. He crossed the street to Salazar Park, found an empty bench and began his recon.
* * *
Lights turned on in both houses while he bought a vegetarian burger from a food truck. A man came to the Toyota from the house with the wood fence. He reached into its trunk, brought out a grocery bag and went inside. Cutter snapped photographs discreetly with his phone and turned his attention to the other house, which also showed activity. The man looked like he was in his sixties. Would bangers be that old?
A young man came out into the yard of the other house, picked up the tricycle and took it inside. He fits the profile. Looks Hispanic. Did he have a family? Was he a single parent? Or did he live alone and have some child visiting him during the day?
Cutter grunted as he got to his feet and made a show of trudging back to his Durango. He was still in the transparent-glasses disguise that Brae knew him by but had added a gray streak to his hair to give him an elderly look.
I’ll have to come back with another drone. Thermal imaging would tell him how many occupants were in each house.
He drove back and, at the last minute, changed his mind and headed to Vienna’s house instead of the Sycamore Avenue one.
Much later, he would wonder if it was that whimsical move that led to everything that followed.
26
Cutter was still awake at one am after his return from Salazar Park, in his real look. He had burned his disguise and thrown the ash in a dumpster on the way back.
He had prompted Werner to check the photographs: the older man and the young person. None matched any hoods in the software program’s database.
That doesn’t mean anything. Not every Street Front thug was in the LAPD database that Werner had access to. Even the old person could be a decoy.
One of those houses is Covarra’s warehouse, where he stores his drugs for distribution. That’s why Moe said the house was valuable.
‘Chad,’ he called his friend, confident that he would be awake.
‘I was wondering when you’d call,’ the armorer replied drily.
Was he that predictable?
‘I’ve got more gear for you. HKs, Glocks, drones … I figured you’d need to stock up.’
Yeah, he was that readable!
‘Leave it at a self-storage. I can’t risk coming to your place anymore. You’ve got a family. You don’t need to be dragged into what I’m doing. No!’ he overrode his friend’s protests. ‘That’s the way it will be. And if the cops come to you, tell them everything you know.’
‘LAPD will not come to me. Every gun, drone, grenade I gave you is untraceable.’
Cutter hung up, logged into an offshore bank account and transferred a sizable amount to Chad’s offshore account. His friend was running a business, not a charity.
He turned off the lights and sat in the darkness in Vienna’s living room. For a moment, he thought he could hear her and Arnedra laughing at a joke, and his lips curled up involuntarily in a smile. Then he straightened, realizing the laugh had c
ome from outside.
He had visitors.
27
Cutter drew his Glock and peered through the window.
Three men were coming up the driveway, spread out, approaching cautiously. All of them armed, illuminated by the overglow of the city.
Cops was his first thought, which he rejected immediately. If any police were to come here, it would be Matteo and Cruz, and maybe Estrada. They would come up confidently. These men were Street Front hoods.
Which meant that Covarra had made the connection to his questions and Vienna’s house.
Why were they so obvious in their arrival?
Answers could wait. He ghosted to the kitchen as he heard them climb the steps. He went to open the rear exit to the backyard, held his breath and let it out in relief when the glass-paneled door opened noiselessly. He slipped out and shut it behind him, with his Glock held ready. No one came to the backyard.
That was sloppy of them. They should have cut off this exit.
He crouched low as he darted to the front and peered around the front wall. No one on the porch. No one at the gate or visible on the street.
They picked the lock easily. That didn’t surprise him, since Vienna didn’t have security of any kind and her doors were old-style, with out-of-date locks. They’ll check this floor, one or two will go up to check the bedrooms.
He had his armor, he had his Glock and several spare magazines, and he had his fury.
Cutter stepped onto the porch, took a long stride to the door, crouched and snapped a quick look. No one visible.
He snuck inside and was straightening when a figure came out of the kitchen, looked at the ceiling and called out softly, ‘He’s not here. He must be up—’ He broke off and yelled loudly. ‘HE’S HERE.’
Cutter shot him before the hood could raise his rifle, a double tap to his chest just as he heard movement upstairs and loud exclamations.