“Merde! Our plane leaves Orange County airport in three hours and if we can’t check out right now, we will be stuck here for a least another day. Shit! Bombs and plastic women. This is such a fucked up country. I just want to take my family home!”
“Sir, the sheriff’s department has closed the hotel to anyone checking in or out until further notice,” the desk clerk says with remarkable patience, considering.
I walk up to the group, pull out my wallet and quickly flash my Costco card, covering most of it with my hand and put it back in my pocket before anyone can look at it too closely.
“May I be of assistance here?” I ask. “I’m with the sheriff’s department.” Not a complete lie.
The clerk looks at me with relief, hoping I can help her get this group to calm down. “These people want to leave to catch an evening flight home and we have strict instructions. No one is to check in or out. I’ve been trying to explain this to them, but they insist on leaving.”
I put my hand on the big guy’s shoulder. “I might be able to help you out, sir. Let me make a quick call.” I step away from the group and turn my back to them as I punch in Murphy’s number.
“Murph, I found some video tapes that we can swap out with a couple of the security tapes and give those to the Feds instead.”
“Brilliant! Grab them and get over here.”
“It won’t be quite that easy. The tapes belong to a group of French Canadian tourists trying to leave the hotel. Can I interview these people and let them go if I think they had nothing to do with the bombing? It’s a husband, wife, two kids and a grandmother. I don’t think anyone in this group is our killer.”
“OK, just be damn sure they are who they say they are before you let them go. And hurry up.”
“Great. I’ll find you when I’m done”
I turn and walk back to the reception desk and look at the manager, who is standing behind the desk clerk, “Sir, would you prepare the paperwork to check this group out? I’ll interview these people over in the cafe and, if everything is in order, they’ll be free to leave.”
“But Detective Murphy said no one was to leave,” says the manager.
“It’s on his authority I’m interviewing these people so they don’t miss their flight,” I look toward the grandmother, and flash my most charming smile. “He’ll be here momentarily.”
I turn back to the rather large husband. “I need a few minutes of your time to ask you and your family members a few questions. It won’t take long, and then we can let you check out and be on your way home.”
“Merci,” he says, grateful. I reach over to help with their luggage, picking up the camera bag.
“This way, please,” I lead them into the café.
I let my jacket slide off of my arm and onto the camera bag. We find a table in the café and I put the camera bag at my feet. I scoop both of the video tapes from the side pocket and roll them into my jacket, which I set with the backpack on the bench beside me. I pull a pad of hotel scratch paper and a pen out of my pocket, hoping this guy won’t wonder why I don’t have a black police notebook. Maybe Canadian cops don’t have those. I spend the next fifteen minutes getting the group’s information—names, ages, passport numbers, addresses, home and work phone numbers. They’re from a small town backwater Quebec and scared. The grandmother doesn’t even speak English. They just want to get home. After a while, Murphy comes over—I must be taking too long, but I don’t want the Canadians to get suspicious. Murphy looks at my notes and their passports and asks the man a few more questions. Finally, we escort them through the front doors and Murphy tells the deputies to allow the Canadian family to leave. With my jacket and the tapes under my arm, I hand them their video camera case.
Murphy turns to me and whispers, “That took way too fucking long. Where are the tapes? We need to switch them out right now. The Feds will be here any minute.”
I pass my jacket to him and we walk to a quiet part of the café, behind a big potted plant. Murphy works his magic, switching around labels. I feel a little pang of guilt when I see the hand-written “Marguerite’s Wedding” label transferred to the security tape. Murphy has just finished when a group of suits walks into the hotel lobby. I slide the video tapes into the back waistband of my jeans and pull on my jacket. Murphy picks up the remainder of the tapes, stands and walks up to the group of agents.
“I’m Detective Dwayne Murphy, Homicide, Orange County Sherriff’s Department. Who’s the Special Agent in Charge of finding out who’s in charge here?” He asks. I notice the suits are not amused.
The tallest agent pulls out his wallet, shows his ID to Murphy and says, “Detective Murphy, we’re taking charge of this investigation. I’m hoping we can work together.”
Murphy reads the agent’s name as SAC Findley. Murphy takes his time looking at Findley’s badge and finally says, “Yes. Yes, we can.”
Findlay puts his badge back in his inside jacket pocket. “Great. Thanks for your cooperation. We can use your help keeping the perimeter secure and getting all the guest information for us. We also need help from your forensics team gathering evidence on the bomb that killed those agents. Can we depend on you and your people?”
Findlay looks at me, but Murphy doesn’t bother to introduce me.
“Absolutely. Let me start by giving you the security tapes from the hotel.”
“Have you had a chance to look at them?”
“Not yet. I was just handed them a few minutes ago,” says Murphy. “I’ll inform all the OC Sheriff’s Department personnel to stay on site until you tell us otherwise.”
Findlay nods and takes the tapes. Murphy turns and starts walking outside and I fall in behind him. Once we’re outside and out of earshot, I say, “Are you pissed? This guy seems to be less of a jerk than the guy who was blown up. I mean, I didn’t want to see him blown up but that last guy was such an asshole.”
“This guy’s better than most of them, but the Feds aren’t our biggest problem right now. Opening that puzzle box is. With this place crawling with Feds, we won’t be able to meet with Chako this evening. Can you call her and see if you can get her to meet with us tomorrow?”
“Sure, Murph,” I say. “Can I split? You don’t need my help anymore today.”
“You’ve done enough. Get some rest, but stay close to your phone and keep me in the loop, okay?” He walks over to one of the deputies, talks to him, points at me and walks back over.
“I cleared you and your van, so you’re good to go. Get out of here before the Feds get a different idea.”
“Thanks, Murph. I’ll call you if I hear anything.”
I waste no time getting to my van. I don’t want anybody changing their mind.
Chapter 33
From her vantage point across the street, Alexis watches the Feds get in their car. Once she recovered from the shock of the explosion, she realized it was time for her to get into the game.
She calls her boss. “Sir, two agents from the ATF have just been killed in an explosion here at the hotel. We can’t sit around anymore. We need to get out in front of this. I believe General Sandoval is behind all the killings.” She listens for a minute before continuing, “I want to bring Murphy and Paladin in. I know Paladin has the puzzle box. We need him and that information.” She pauses again. “Thank you, sir. I think it’s a good decision. I’ll keep you apprised.”
She disconnects and thinks, but how do I to get them to play ball? She decides to be straight with them and convince them to help her and the agency for which she works. Then, she’ll get Paladin to bring Murphy on board. Paladin has to have a source to open the puzzle box or he would have turned it over to the Sherriff’s Department by now and she knows for a fact the sheriff’s department doesn’t have it. She gets into her car and puts in her AC/DC cd. As Highway to Hell starts playing, she turns up volume and merges onto the 5 Freeway heading south.
She arrives at Dana Point Harbor and spots Bobby’s van. She parks and makes her way to th
e gate at the dock. She pushes down and pulls back on the dock gate and it pops open. Top of the line security. She walks over to DJ’s boat.
◆◆◆
“Ahoy! Permission to come aboard!” A voice calls from the dock.
“Alexis,” I say, surprised and confused. “Yeah, sure, come aboard.”
I lean over to give her a hand up. “DJ, this is Alexis. She works for John G. Alexis, DJ Frasier.”
“Is there somewhere we can talk in private?” she asks. “I need to speak with both of you.”
“Sure.” I’m confused. Why is she here? “We can go below. On a boat, it’s about as private as you can get.” I lead her down into the salon.
“Wow! This is beautiful.”
“Thanks,” says DJ “Bobby and I busted our asses on this thing. Then somebody trashed the boat’s interior. Luckily, they didn’t damage the wood. I just picked up the new couch and table cushions this morning.”
“You did all this restoration work yourselves? It’s amazing.”
DJ and I sit down on one of the benches and Alexis sits across from us. “What I’m going to tell you is a matter of national security. You both need to swear that whatever I say here will not be told to anyone else. That includes your wife, DJ. Are we clear on this?”
We look at each other. “Is this a joke?” I ask, “I didn’t think John G had a sense of humor.”
“No joke. I’m deathly serious. And so should you be. Can I have your assurance what I’m about to discuss with you will go no further.”
She’s pretty hot when she’s all badass like this so we both say, “Yes,” almost at the same time.
Alexis unzips her purse and pulls out a small leather case. She opens it to display an ID card that identifies her as a federal operative with an agency I’ve never heard of.
“I work for a government agency that goes after the worst of the worst,” she begins. “We have virtually unlimited funding and resources. We only answer to the current sitting president, but even he has no real authority over our agency. The agency was set up during the first Bush administration and we carry out work inside the United States as well as internationally. Right now we’re focused on General Miguel Sandoval, one of the most vicious criminals in the world. He’s been over-seeing the passage of drugs, arms, money and possibly terrorists into the United States. He doesn’t think twice about killing anyone who gets in his way. Webber had agreed to help us. General Sandoval killed Webber’s girlfriend and her family in Cabo. Apparently word got back to The General that Webber wanted out. The General felt the need to impress upon him what happens to people who cross him. Webber was privy to some very sensitive paperwork; information so damaging that it could bring down General Sandoval and his entire empire.”
She pauses to give us time to process what she’s just told us.
“Micky.” I say quietly.
“I’m sorry?”
“His first name was Micky.”
“Of course. I apologize. I know you were close.”
DJ finally says, “Is that what’s in that puzzle box?”
I elbow him to shut him up.
“He’s not telling me anything I don’t already know, Bobby.” Alexis says. “We know you have the puzzle box that Webb – sorry – Micky hid for you to find. If you still have it, we need your help. Have you found a way to open it?” She pulls a pack of cigarettes out of her purse and asks, “Is it okay? It’s a bad habit, but I can’t seem to shake it.”
DJ nods, pulls out his lighter and lights her cigarette before pulling out his own. He blows the smoke out slowly.
“Holy, shit,” I say, running my hand through my hair. I open and close the clasp on my watch. I stand and climb up the stairs to sit on the top step, get some fresh air, and collect my thoughts.
“We didn’t know anything about Micky having a girlfriend,” I say, “let alone that she and her family had been murdered. We have some communication from Micky explaining what was in the puzzle box was important and telling us to be careful. He said not to trust anyone. He stressed that, Alexis. Would it be okay if DJ and I had a minute alone to talk about this?”
“Understandable. I’ll finish my cigarette up on the deck.” She stands up as I come back down into the salon. She walks past me, up the stairs and steps out on to the deck. She sits down, takes out her cell phone and makes a call. I reach up and close the hatch.
“What do you want to do?” I ask him. “Do we help her? You’ve already had to move your family and your boat has been trashed. I think you have the most to lose.”
“Your house was blown up and Jeannie was killed.”
I can’t seem to speak after he’s said that, so I just nod.
“I don’t think we can get out of it at this stage; we’re both in too deep.” He crushes his cigarette into the ashtray and lights another one. “We both could lose everything, but this asshole General killed our best friend and killed his girlfriend’s family. He’s ruthless and apparently won’t stop there. I think we need to do anything we can to help.”
I clear my throat, “Micky would have done the same thing for either of us. He would have put his life on the line, just like we’re about to.”
“So we’re in?”
“Looks like.”
I open the hatch and ask Alexis to come back down. She sits, crosses her legs and looks over at us.
“The answer to your question is,” DJ pauses for a moment, as the severity of what we’re about to agree to sinks in, “Yes. Yes, we’ll help you.”
I say, “The answer to your other question, is yes, we think we have a way to open the puzzle box. Tomorrow afternoon we hope to meet with a person who has agreed to help us.”
She stands up, “Really? That’s good news.”
She looks around, “Is there anything to drink on this boat?” DJ glances at me and we both burst out laughing.
I grab three beers, open them, hand one to DJ and one to Alexis. She takes a swig straight out of the bottle. My kind of gal. She continues. “Do you think you could call your cop buddy and get him over here before we go any further? He needs to be on-board with what we’re trying to achieve as a team.”
“That might be tough,” I tell her. “Murph hasn’t been exactly forthcoming with his bosses. He thinks there’s a leak in his department and he doesn’t trust anyone right now. When he can get away from the Hilton, he’s going home to watch the security tapes from the hotel.”
“I thought the Feds took all that stuff.”
How does she know that? “Well, we sort of switched a couple of tapes out when we handed everything over to the Feds. It’ll only be a matter of time before all this becomes known and Murph’s out of a job. He might even be looking at charges from the DA or even the US Attorney’s office.”
“I can handle his bosses,” Alexis says. “Call him and try to get him here so I can talk to him. It’s important. I’m the only person who can identify General Miguel Sandoval if he’s on that tape. If The General is in the US, and we can get him, we can put him away for life, shutting down one of the biggest, most violent criminal organizations in Mexico.”
I nod my understanding, pick up my cell phone and push Murph’s number. He answers and I say “We need to meet up as soon as you’re free. We’ve had an interesting development that might make your life a little easier.”
He starts to ask me a bunch of questions, but I stop him. “I don’t want to talk about it over the phone. There’s too much to explain.”
Finally he says, “Sure. Come to my house in an hour. I’ve got the equipment to look at the tapes and I want to do it ASAP. The Feds have taken control of the Hilton crime scene. My wife and kids went to Disneyland, so we’ll be alone for a while. They always stay until the bitter end to see the parade and fireworks.”
I hang up. “We can meet at his house in an hour. We can explain everything to him then.”
“Perfect. Let’s go grab a bite while we can. I’m starving,” she says, setting her beer on th
e table and grabbing her purse. She turns to inspect DJ who’s sitting with his head down, cigarette ash about to fall to the floor.
“Hey DJ,” I ask gently. “Are you coming with us?”
DJ lifts his head and looks at us. The pressure of the last few days shows clearly on his face. “No, not right now. I’m not hungry and this is all way too crazy for me. I just want to surf and have my quiet life back.” He sighs. “But, if you really need me, I’ll come with you and help out any way I can. I’m in this thing to deep to quit.”
“Go surf, DJ.” Alexis says sympathetically. “We’re going to need your help soon enough, so jump in the water and clear your head. Not a word to anyone, do you understand?”
I nod my agreement and head up into the cockpit. Alexis puts one foot on the stairs to follow me and turns back to my friend. “DJ, we might need your boat at some point. How ready is it to sail?”
“She’s always ready.” DJ says.
Alexis and I head up the dock toward the parking lot. She pulls out a key ring and hits a couple of buttons, disabling her car alarm and starting the car while we’re still about twenty five feet away.
“This comes in handy at times like this, when people are routinely being blown up in their cars.” It dawns on her what she’s just said and she stops and turns to me. “I’m so sorry, Bobby. That was stupid of me. I know Jeannie meant a lot to you.”
How does she seem to know everything? I shake my head. “It’s okay.” I look over at her car, an older dark blue Toyota. “I thought you secret agents had fancy, souped up sports cars,” I say, changing the subject, “Is it safe?”
“Of course. It doesn’t draw any attention, which I need in my work. Hop in and I’ll run a diagnostic on the car systems before I put it into drive. The engineers at our agency install cameras and surveillance systems on all our cars. We know right away if anyone’s been trying to tamper with them.”
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