Powder Burn

by Ty Patterson

  They’re colluding with Janikyan. They must have been there with him when Vienna and Arnedra were tortured, raped and killed.

  He picked his phone up when it buzzed. Unlocked it and stared at the string of messages from Beth.

  This is the first text from Lasko.

  ‘Covarra’s here at a warehouse on Rio and Jesse Street. Come down with backup. We can get him.’

  This one was sent fifteen minutes later.

  ‘Are you coming?’

  That was followed by a call.

  All of those, within an hour of his getting shot.

  He called Matteo.

  * * *

  That’s proof. Cutter dropped the phone onto the seat. That’s what Lasko meant by ‘he didn’t come.’

  He sat motionless for what felt like hours as the rage inside him swirled and eddied. He wiped his palms on his jeans when he had banked his fury to a cold simmer. It would fuel him for what he needed to do.

  Bring them down.

  90

  Cutter watched Matteo and Cruz emerge from Blue Goose after ninety minutes. The lead detective scanned the streets as he donned his shades and left for the parking lot, with his partner behind him. His movement was jerky, his shoulders squared, as if he was angry.

  He checked out Difiore in his side mirror. She and Quindica had slid down their seats when the cops arrived. They sat up straight and appeared to be conferring with each other when the men drove away.

  Cutter assembled the GSM tower swiftly as he kept an eye on them and fired off a text message.

  Trust no one but Lisa and Terry.

  * * *

  Difiore sucked her breath sharply when she read the message and showed it to Quindica.

  ‘That’s … from Cutter?’ the SAC frowned.

  ‘Yeah.’ She stared down Santa Monica as if she could still see Matteo’s vehicle through the traffic. She signaled with her flasher and joined the traffic. Paid no attention to the gas technician she drove past. She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat and looked at Quindica briefly.

  ‘You’re thinking the same as me?’

  ‘Yeah, Matteo! Possibly Cruz and Estrada, too. If they’re dirty,’ the SAC said bitterly, ‘it explains a lot. Why we made no progress in our LAPD investigation. Matteo knew everything that we were doing. He—’

  She broke off and looked out of the window blindly. Her voice was quiet when she spoke again.

  ‘He could be as corrupt as the Blue Brothers. His seniority and reputation … those would be enough for him to recruit dirty cops. He would know how to massage the reports so that nothing looked off. He knew the mistakes those deputies made. He wouldn’t repeat them. But,’ she drew a long breath. ‘We can’t prove it.’

  ‘We don’t need to,’ Difiore said softly.

  ‘Cutter?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Gina Difiore needing his help. That’s something.’

  * * *

  I need an app that will dial a number, keep the call going and simultaneously record an ongoing conversation. All this, without being visible on the screen. No notifications of any kind, either.

  Beth snapped her fingers, which brought the rest of the operatives crowding around her. They were in the hotel’s game room, playing pool, when her phone buzzed.

  ‘That from Cutter?’ Zeb guessed.

  ‘Yeah. We’ve got an app like that. I’ll message him installation instructions.’

  Her eyes gleamed when they met his. ‘I’ll program it so that we can listen in to whatever he does. Even when he’s not making calls.’

  ‘And that app,’ Meghan grinned, ‘will give us his location at any time.’

  Zeb nodded as he fingered the cue stick idly. ‘He’s planning something.’

  ‘High time.’ Bear fist-bumped Bwana. ‘We were getting bored.’

  * * *

  Zohrab went to the reception desk in the Lintock Foundation’s building and put on a concerned face. ‘I’m Brae’s friend, from Amarillo. Where she’s from.’

  The woman looked at him and then back at her screen. ‘Brae, sir? We don’t have anyone by that name here.’

  ‘Damn,’ Zohrab slammed his palm on the wooden counter in frustration. ‘I’ve been searching every women’s shelter in town. Her sister is seriously ill.’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir. We have no one by that name here.’

  He thanked her, jerked his head at the banger who had accompanied him and headed out. He smiled coldly when the receptionist, whom he could see in the glass door’s reflection, made a call.

  ‘She’s here,’ he told his man. ‘She’ll come down to get our description. That’s when we’ll grab her.’

  91

  Cutter raced back to his motel, where he had parked his Land Cruiser. He dumped the SoCalGas van a block away and ran to his room. He removed the Glock he had hidden beneath the dresser and stuffed it in his backpack and went out.

  Climbed into the SUV, checked that his weapons bag was in the rear and drove away. He wouldn’t be returning to the motel again.

  He floored the gas, his lips tight, as he navigated the afternoon traffic. Matteo will try calling Cesar. He’ll find the number’s dead. He’ll check with the task force and see if the snitch made contact. That’s when he’ll wonder if he was set up. Which would get the detective to reach out to Janikyan.

  The two will decide to set a trap for me.

  He had to get ahead of the curve. Be prepared for that eventuality.

  * * *

  Cutter reached Beverly Grove Drive and turned into a dirt clearing midway up the hill where several other vehicles were parked. Hikers left their rides at this spot when they hit the trail. He shouldered his backpack and lifted the gymbag with his left hand. Locked the SUV and walked up the road, looking like any other traveler.

  He didn’t look at the murder house when he reached the hairpin bend. He kept going, instead, picturing the neighborhood in his mind, knowing precisely where he wanted to be.

  He cut through dense foliage between two houses when he emerged. All considered, he was high enough now. He made for a good vantage point on the side of the hill.

  There. He could see the kill site. He checked his six. No one near him. The nearest residence was to his left, over a hundred yards away. It was hidden by trees and bushes, however, and all he could see was patches of white wall through the foliage.

  He dropped to his belly and crawled forward beneath a bush. He ignored the branches that scratched him as he moved forward cautiously, until he could take in the house fully.

  He brought out his binos and trained them on the building. The patio leapt out in his lenses, its concrete floor, partial roof and the glass and concrete wall that jutted out from the cliff. He checked out the windows of the house and could detect no movement.

  He went to his messages and read the instructions Beth had sent him for the app. He clicked on the download link, installed it and familiarized himself with its features when it came on screen. He stored Difiore’s number in it and exited the application.

  He double-pressed the volume button, waited a beat and double-pressed it again.

  He opened the app and nodded in satisfaction when he saw it had called the detective. The second set of presses had ended the outgoing ring.

  He placed his phone on the ground and waited.

  * * *

  Matteo nodded to Cruz discreetly and led the way to their office in the LAPD headquarters.

  ‘That informer didn’t call.’ His deputy shut the door and turned to him. ‘I checked with our officers. His number’s been disconnected. It can’t be tracked.’

  The lead detective’s stubble rasped against his fingers when he rubbed his cheek. ‘He never intended to show up,’ he growled. ‘We’ve been made.’

  ‘By him?’ Cruz jammed his hands in his pockets.

  ‘No. There’s only one person who could think of that.’

  ‘Grogan.’

  ‘Yeah. He has Lasko’s phone. He m
ust have got the informer’s number from it.’

  ‘But how would he suspect us?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Matteo waved impatiently. ‘The how doesn’t matter. I bet he was there, at the bar, watching us—’

  ‘He wasn’t. We checked out the—’

  ‘Diego,’ the detective hissed. ‘He wasn’t inside. He must have been parked outside. We didn’t run any license plates, did we?’

  ‘So what if he saw us? We were there to meet an informer.’

  ‘No.’ Matteo shook his head decisively. ‘Grogan knows about us.’

  ‘Lasko’s text messages to you,’ Cruz said, straightening, ‘he must have read those. We were thinking that Lasko deleted them.’

  ‘Possibly. Come on.’ The senior cop headed out of the office. ‘We need to make a call.’

  * * *

  Panig Janikyan was stabbing one of his men in his living room when the phone rang.

  He slashed the banger across the throat with his dashuyn and gave the bloodied weapon to one of his men. He wiped his hands on a towel that a flunky gave him.

  ‘Let that be a lesson,’ he said, eyeing the watching men coldly. ‘That’s what will happen to anyone who steals from us. He thought he could pocket some product and I wouldn’t know it. I am Pain. I know everything that happens in our gang. Take his body away.’

  He reached for the phone, glanced at the number and held it to his ear. ‘What?’

  ‘I think Grogan’s onto us,’ Matteo told him.

  Janikyan listened when the detective laid it out for him.

  ‘I warned you,’ the cop’s voice rose, ‘there was no need for those women to be tortured or raped.’

  ‘We had to know what they were doing there.’

  ‘They told us when you slapped them. They were watching the sunset. And then they hid, when Covarra’s and your men turned up.’

  ‘They saw you with us, when you arrived after the shooting.’

  ‘They didn’t recognize me or Cruz.’

  ‘You both are highly visible. You give interviews … they could have seen you on TV and identified you. We both have invested a lot in our relationship. I couldn’t risk that.’

  ‘You could have just shot them. There was no need to go to that extent.’

  ‘Zohrab needed to play with them. You know how he gets.’

  ‘His actions and yours have brought us to this. We had—’

  ‘A nice deal. I know. You benefited, not just from turning a blind eye, but even more by actively helping us in our operations. Now,’ he sneered, ‘you’re scared that you’ll be found out.’

  ‘Grogan made it personal,’ Matteo spat, ‘when he knew how the women were treated. If they had been shot, he would have accepted our explanation that they were caught in a gang shootout.’

  ‘ENOUGH!’ Janikyan roared. A thug hurried into the room to check on his boss and disappeared when the gang leader glared at him. ‘Don’t forget I made you,’ he told the cop.

  ‘Don’t forget that without my help, you wouldn’t have gotten to where you are.’

  The Armenian controlled himself with effort. He knew Matteo was right.

  ‘I was planning to set a trap for him,’ he told the cop.

  ‘How?’

  He chuckled mirthlessly. ‘I’ll offer you to him.’

  ‘He might not fall for that.’

  Janikyan looked up when Zohrab burst into the room with a woman whose mouth was taped, hands bound and eyes wide with fright.

  The gang leader smiled slowly at the sight. ‘I know just how to convince him,’ he told the detective.

  * * *

  Matteo pocketed his phone when the call ended, and brooded.

  Their relationship had started when the detective joined the LAPD. Matteo stumbled onto Janikyan by accident. He had been returning to the precinct, alone in his vehicle, when he spotted movement in a dark alley in East Hollywood.

  He had crept up on the men on foot and identified Janikyan immediately when he trained his flashlight on them. The Armenian was with two hitters, cartons of oxy baggies at their feet.

  He had been reaching for his comms unit to call for backup when the gang leader smirked at him.

  ‘You can arrest me now and get a promotion. Or, you can arrest these men, let me go, get a promotion, and be rich for the rest of your life.’

  The detective didn’t need any convincing. He had admired the Blue Brothers even while he was helping to bring down the deputies’ gang. He had envied their culture, their willingness to break the law.

  He recognized the opportunity Janikyan presented and grabbed it. He was smarter than the LASD deputies, however. He made the deal with the Armenian that night, and his fortunes changed.

  From being a newcomer in the LAPD, he rapidly rose to being its smartest detective. His closure rate, helped by Janikyan’s tips on his rivals, was the highest in the department.

  The Armenian Bros had made him wealthier than he had ever imagined. He not only got paid for dropping cases, letting criminals walk, turning a blind eye, but also got bonuses for targeting rival gangs based on their tips.

  He hand-picked the cops to join his gang. He didn’t make the mistakes the Blue Brothers had made. No tattoos, no secret handshakes, no identification to give them away. All of them believed in white superiority, but they didn’t act in any way that would reveal that.

  That’s why Dade was unsuccessful, he thought proudly. She couldn’t find any signal that we existed as a gang. And those women she brought, Difiore and Quindica, they couldn’t find anything. We don’t work in any obvious way.

  Cruz had been his first recruit, and the two of them grew their secret outfit to thirty members, a mix of detectives and patrol officers.

  He had learned just who Matt Lasko was when he spotted the cop meeting Dade in the headquarters’ parking lot, late one night. That had aroused his suspicions, and he had dug up everything he could on the detective. He hit paydirt when he visited Dallas, interviewed the Lasko family’s neighbors and discovered the chief’s relationship with the cop. He didn’t let on that he knew about it, and when he discovered that it was the cop who had fed him inside information on the Blue Brothers, he knew what he had to do.

  Lasko had to be killed. He was smart, tenacious and a risk to Matteo and his gang.

  He got lucky when the detective found out about Covarra’s presence on Jesse Street. He ignored the officer’s messages, figuring the Street Front would take him out.

  It went down like I hoped, he thought in satisfaction. It doesn’t look like he’ll recover. He’s still hooked up to tubes. Even if he does, there’s nothing he can do. I’ll say I was busy on another investigation if he accuses me of not providing backup. Dade won’t think anything of it. She thinks I’m her best detective.

  As for Grogan. His hands curled into fists. He won’t be a threat for long. I’ll be there when Janikyan kills him.

  92

  Cutter’s phone buzzed at nine pm.

  He swallowed the protein bar he was eating and washed it down with a gulp of water. He checked the house with his night-vision binos and thumbed the call.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Grogan,’ Janikyan gloated. ‘How does it feel to be the most hunted man in the city?’

  ‘No different from how you feel every day and night.’

  ‘I’m still a free man.’

  ‘So am I.’

  No one at the house. Doesn’t look like he’s sent his thugs there.

  He checked his phone for the GPS trackers he had planted. Zohrab was in the Little Armenia house, but there was no other green dot in that location. That soluble’s signal has died.

  ‘We should meet,’ the Armenian declared.

  ‘So you can kill me?’

  ‘I don’t need to. I’ll give you what you want.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘The people who shot your friends.’

  ‘You know who it is?’

  ‘I’ll present them to you
. In person.’

  ‘Tell me who they are.’

  ‘No, we have to meet for that.’

  ‘You’re setting me up.’

  Just like you did all along.

  ‘Why would I do that?’

  ‘Because you know how much of a threat I am.’

  ‘Enough talk. Do you want the killers or not?’

  ‘You know I want them,’ he growled. ‘But I don’t trust you. We’ll meet at a place of my choice.’

  ‘No—’

  ‘No meeting in that case.’

  ‘Wait,’ Janikyan asked him quickly. ‘Where did you have in mind?’

  ‘That same house in Beverly Hills where they were killed. Tomorrow. Nine pm.’

  ‘There?’ the gang leader burst out in surprise. ‘Why not some other place?’

  ‘I want to kill them on the same spot they murdered my friends.’

  ‘You’re not afraid I’ll kill you?’

  ‘You, killing me?’ he snorted. ‘Janikyan, count how many chances you had to capture me. Now, count how many times you succeeded. It’s you who should be afraid of meeting me.’

  ‘Pain does not fear any man.’

  ‘We have a date, in that case. Tomorrow. That house.’

  * * *

  ‘It will be tomorrow,’ Janikyan told Matteo, ‘in that same house.’

  ‘Beverly Hills?’ The detective stared into the darkness of the night. ‘Why did you agree to meet there?’

  ‘He asked for it. He wasn’t ready to meet anywhere else.’

  ‘How did he sound?’

  ‘How does that matter?’ the Armenian asked in exasperation. ‘We’ll finish him tomorrow and get back to our business.’

  ‘Was he worried? Scared?’

  ‘Grogan? No expression in his voice.’

  ‘It’s a trap.’ Matteo stood up and paced the room.