Vanishing Point: A Warner & Lopez prequel novel

by Dean Crawford

  Ethan did not reply as he saw Jones almost physically wither away beneath the hungry glare of the two convicts. Ethan saw that the two men each occupied a top bunk in the four–man cell, which was probably meant to be a two–man cell but overcrowding had repurposed it. To the left was a sink and latrine, both made from steel, with a single steel mirror bolted to the wall.

  ‘Sit down, both of you,’ growled one of the inmates.

  Both were thick set and bearded, one shorter than the other and both plastered in gang tattoos, swastikas and other morbid paraphernalia. Jones sheepishly moved across to one of the lower bunks and sat down. Ethan remained where he was, and instantly attracted the attention of his two new friends.

  ‘You deaf, boy?’ the taller beard growled at him.

  The fact that Ethan was almost forty had obviously slipped the man’s attention. Ethan remained where he was and said nothing. His heart was pounding in his chest but outwardly he remained as still as a statue, his expression neutral. The cell was small, and with the bunks either side there was almost no room for the two hulking convicts to stand without one getting in the other’s way.

  ‘I think we got ourselves a defective here,’ muttered the other.

  ‘We’ll be taking the top bunks,’ Ethan said finally. ‘You can move your gear down now.’

  The two men stared at Ethan as though he was insane. Both of them looked at each other as though unsure of what to do. Then, the taller of the two stepped forward and pointed one thick arm at Ethan like a shotgun.

  ‘You don’t make the rules in here boy, it’s us who…’

  Ethan did not wait to hear any more. He knew enough about jail and prison life to understand that there were only two species in this environment: fish, and sharks. As the man pointed his arm, Ethan threw the blanket and bedroll at the beard behind as with one hand he pushed the arm down and stepped forward, slamming his forehead down onto the bridge of the nearest beard’s nose with all of his weight behind it.

  The beard’s face crunched like an eggshell and his eyes rolled up in their sockets as he dropped like a sack of potatoes at Ethan’s feet. As the second beard pushed the blanket and bedroll off his face Ethan stepped over the first man and grabbed the second’s testicles with one hand and twisted them hard as he yanked his arm up.

  The big man let out a high–pitched squeal of pain and went up on his toes as with a swift jab Ethan drove the knuckles of his left hand deep into the man’s throat. The convict’s thorax collapsed and he began choking as Ethan drove him backwards against the back wall. He held the man’s frenzied gaze for a moment, made sure he had his full attention, then spoke softly.

  ‘Bottom bunk,’ he repeated, ‘and I won’t rip these off and force feed them to your boyfriend. Understood?’

  The man nodded frantically, barely able to breathe. Ethan nodded slowly, his own heart thundering away in his chest as adrenaline coursed like a freight train through his system. He grabbed the man’s hair and threw him to one side to collapse on a lower bunk as he released his grip. He turned slowly, to see the guys in the opposite tier cells watching silently now.

  To his right Jones stared in horror as he clutched his bedroll.

  ‘Jeez man, jeez.’

  Ethan reached up onto the top bunks and slid everything off them, then off the shelves alongside. The beards’ belongings clattered to the floor. Then he quietly arranged his toiletries there as the man he’d iced began to regain consciousness. Ethan watched as the other beard sat and glowered in silence while his friend sat up, blood streaming from his broken nose as he snarled at Ethan.

  ‘You son of a…’

  Ethan took one pace toward the man on the floor and he flinched back and threw up his hands like the coward he really was. Ethan took the initiative and chose a role of psychotic savagery, one guaranteed to strike fear into any mortal man; nobody ever never quite knew would a psycho would do next.

  ‘You stay quiet, you’ll stay in once piece,’ he informed them. ‘You annoy me, I’ll make that broken nose look like cosmetic surgery. You’re gonna need a nurse after your nasty fall, so get one.’

  The beard got up and called for the screws, eliciting a few mocking cries from other inmates as the officer took one look at him, another look of interest at Ethan, and then called for the beard to be transported to the infirmary. Within minutes he was gone, and the other beard found himself locked up in the cell and outnumbered.

  ‘Hey man, we were just foolin’ around, y’know?’ he uttered in a weak attempt at conciliation. ‘My name’s Mikey.’

  Ethan continued to arrange his few possessions as a distraction.

  ‘Mikey, shut up.’

  Mikey obeyed without protest.

  ‘Who’s the block boss?’ Ethan asked.

  Every block had a boss. It was the way of things in jail and prison, gang affiliations and other loyalties forging a volatile and ever–at–war series of factions that largely controlled the interior of most state prisons.

  ‘Antonio Ferraga,’ Mikey replied. ‘He’s a mob man, got a good following here on the white side. Deals drugs, hard cash, cell phones, that kinda stuff.’

  Ethan nodded but did not look at Mikey.

  ‘We could use you,’ Mikey said, ‘you’re good with your hands, man.’

  Ethan shot Mikey a cold glare. ‘I’d rather work with ISIS than a scumbag like you. You don’t share this cell any more, you stay here because I let you. You and your boyfriend are mine, you got that?’

  Mikey was clearly not used to being dominated in any way because rage flushed his face and he made to stand up.

  Ethan whirled to confront him and Mikey’s rage withered, a vague flicker of panic behind his eyes as he sat back down.

  ‘All right man,’ he whimpered, hands raised.

  Ethan jumped up onto his bunk. ‘Give me all your shanks.’

  Jones watched, mystified, as Mikey got up and produced a small number of makeshift knives. One was whittled from a toothbrush handle, another from a screw that had been superglued into one end of an empty biro. A third was crafted from a sliver of metal out of the machine shop, a slim and wicked blade no good for stabbing but ideal for slashing. Mikey put them all on Ethan’s bunk next to him.

  ‘What you want ‘em for?’

  Ethan lazily picked one of the makeshift blades up and twirled it in his fingers.

  ‘Put the word out at breakfast that I want to speak to Antonio Ferraga,’ Ethan instructed. ‘I’m gonna need a cell phone.’

  ***

  VI

  Lopez was up at first light, having grabbed a couple hours sleep in a motel outside Kankakee. Within an hour she was in the office of the promisingly named Honor Creston of Creston and Deck, Attorneys at Law. A younger partner in the firm with six years litigation behind her, Honor was a defense lawyer who specialised in criminal cases. Slender, with long blonde hair and a methodical approach, Lopez had used her services a few times in the past when they’d grabbed bail runners heading south for the border.

  ‘Wow,’ she said as she reviewed the case. ‘How did you guys end up in this mess?’

  For Honor, it was a telling slip in protocol that she would make such a remark.

  ‘It’s a set up,’ Lopez replied, ‘but by whom and why we don’t know. Ethan doesn’t carry any more and neither do I. As crazy as it sounds, someone else really did shoot Dwayne Austin.’

  Honor tilted her head to one side and sighed.

  ‘Multiple witnesses, cries of mercy from the victim, no weapon, body found with 9mm slug in the skull. You got any witnesses who are saying anything different?’

  Lopez shook her head. She knew that this was going to be a tough one but in the cold light of day it didn’t look real good for Ethan.

  ‘About all I can suggest is that a property local to the river has security cameras. I’m hoping we can request they hand over any footage before it’s wiped so we can review it. If any of the cameras covers the waterfront, which I imagine they do as that�
�s where the owner’s boat is moored, we might learn something.’

  ‘What’s the relevance of the mooring?’

  ‘There was a boat tied up there recently that isn’t there now.’

  Honor peered at Lopez. ‘That’s a stretch, right? How far down river is the property?’

  ‘Less than a hundred yards. Bottom line is that if this was a set up, it’s perfectly arranged. Dwayne Austin could take the dive, get picked up by a boat and he’s away. The gun mercy plea is all part of the game and with the supposed shot taken while Dwayne had his back to the water, there would be no residue other than that found on Ethan.’

  ‘And did they find any gunshot residue on him?’

  ‘Nothing reported back yet,’ Lopez admitted. ‘He didn’t shoot so that’s sure to be a negative but right now I’m willing to bet that the police will keep Ethan locked up regardless.’

  ‘If the real perps are that professional they likely won’t have missed the mooring security cameras either.’

  ‘Chance I gotta take,’ Lopez replied. ‘Even if there’s nothing on the camera, the owners of the house would be sure to have noticed an unknown boat moored right outside their house.’

  ‘If there was a boat.’

  ‘There sure as hell was a shooting. It had to happen someplace.’

  ‘Could they have shot Dwayne during his fall and made off without trace?’

  ‘At night, with little warning? Not a chance. Dwayne would have hit the water in a split second, the bridge isn’t that high. He was carried under by the current and before we could call an ambulance and get across the freeway to check on him, the police showed up. It all happened so fast, it can’t have been coincidence.’

  Honor looked again at the notes but Lopez could tell that she wasn’t convinced.

  ‘You’re gonna need something absolutely rock solid to break this case open from anything other than the slam–dunk the Kankakee police are going to see it as. Ethan’s on the noose and without the government protection that you guys once had it’s hard to see a judge handing down anything other than twenty to life. Even that won’t happen for at least a year so Ethan’s going to be sitting on his thumbs in jail until then.’

  ‘Somehow I don’t think that he’s the sitting–around type,’ Lopez pointed out.

  As if on cue, her cell phone buzzed quietly in her pocket. Lopez pulled it out and was surprised to see a message from a number that she didn’t recognize.

  HOT CELL FROM INSIDE. MEETING HOURS 11–12 AM. BE HERE, INFO FOR YOU. ETHAN

  Lopez slipped the cell back into her pocket. ‘I gotta go. Can you get that footage for me, and anything else you can think of. The Greyhound bus would have cameras on board too, they might tell us something.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do at short notice,’ Honor replied. ‘I can take a drive down to the riverside property and ask them nicely if they’ll let us have a copy of the CCTV, that’ll be quicker than serving up warrants.’

  ‘Great,’ Lopez said as she stood. ‘Call me as soon as you find anything.’

  *

  Jerome Combs Detention Center

  Ethan walked out of the block with his hands in cuffs as he was led by a prison officer toward the meeting rooms. Word had got around quickly about both his assault on the biker brothers and his arrest for homicide, and the double hit of respect had quickly earned him a cell phone from Ferraga, although the loan had of course come with a catch. Ethan was now required to watch the mob man’s back for any attacks from Latino gangs apparently keen to see him have an “accident” before his release from incarceration.

  In truth, Ethan wasn’t particularly concerned about Ferraga’s back or anyone else’s. Incarceration made it almost impossible for him to do anything about his situation and he suddenly understood how tough it must be for anyone imprisoned for a crime they had not committed, knowing it could be years before they would get their time in court.

  The stench of the block was replaced by the artificial smell of metal and plastic as he was led into a communal room filled with tables and chairs. Hardened convicts chatted quietly with girlfriends and wives, or in some cases angry mothers who scalded them like little children, all under the watchful gaze of the prison officers.

  Lopez was waiting as Ethan was guided across and cuffed to the table.

  ‘How y’doin’?’ Lopez asked cheerfully as he sat down.

  ‘Just great,’ he smiled back at her without an ounce of mirth. ‘Get me the hell out of here.’

  ‘Doin’ my best,’ Lopez said as she leaned forward on the table. ‘I checked out the scene last night after release and we’ve got possible cameras on the shoreside near a mooring. If Austin took a dive with the intention of being picked up, that’s where it would have happened. He wouldn’t have lasted long enough in the water to make it further downstream.’

  ‘The bus,’ Ethan said. ‘The police said that someone called them from the bus.’

  Lopez raised an eyebrow. ‘Before anything had happened?’

  ‘Exactly. They reported a possible shady character who might be armed aboard the bus, prompting the big response from Kankakee PD. I never saw any evidence of Austin carrying and he never pulled a piece when I caught up with him. Before that he was just sitting there and never made a move on anyone. The caller is the key to this.’

  ‘I’ll get on it,’ Lopez replied. ‘If they were only there to help set this up, then they’ll have got off the bus at the first opportunity afterward. Police would have taken all names of the manifest too so they might be easy to track down, although…’

  ‘Yeah,’ Ethan nodded, ‘paid cash, false name or ID, standard stuff. But if we can get a face we got something to start with. Anything else?’

  ‘Lawyer’s pokin’ around some for us, but she’s not exactly getting ready for the charge. If hell freezes over and they assign a good detective to the case things might change but I’m not holding my breath.’

  ‘Me either,’ Ethan said. ‘I got a hold on the block right now but it won’t take long for old faces to realize who I am, maybe even the screws will let ‘em know. Once they figure out I’m a bail bondsman they’ll turn and I’m gonna end up having to commit homicide for real this time just to stay alive.’

  ‘You’re not thinking of tryin’ to jump ship?’ Lopez uttered. ‘You do that, the entire county will come after you.’

  Ethan shrugged. ‘I don’t know. What’s the bail?’

  ‘Fifty grand,’ Lopez replied, ‘nothing but the best.’

  ‘Jeez,’ Ethan shook his head. ‘We got sewn up real good here. Anyone else we can turn to? What about Doug?’

  Doug Jarvis had been their handler at the Defense Intelligence Agency for several years when they had been contracted there, but those contacts were gone now and Ethan knew he was fishing for leads.

  ‘We agreed to leave that world behind, you deleted his number and so did I,’ Lopez replied. ‘We’re on our own this time, Ethan.’

  ‘Burning bridges,’ Ethan murmured in reply. ‘Seemed like a good idea at the time.’

  Lopez shrugged. ‘It is what it is. Look, Ethan, whatever happened here, it was a major set up. I know we’ve locked up some bad dudes in our time but who the hell would go this far to put us in jail? We haven’t chased major crimes for almost a year and Dwayne Austin must have been a patsy in all this. I don’t know where to turn when we don’t even have a motive.’

  Ethan thought for a moment. His five minutes were up already and the guard was on his way back.

  ‘Dwayne was on his cell to someone before you pulled the bus over. Maybe he made the call. Austin is connected to something that we don’t know about, that’s for sure. Why not dig into him a bit and see what pops?’

  ‘Sure thing,’ Lopez replied, and stood as Ethan was dragged up and out of his seat. ‘Keep your cool. I don’t want to hear that your entire block is on fire because someone looked at you the wrong way.’

  Ethan nodded but didn’t reply as he was led away,
and Lopez got the distinct impression that if she didn’t figure this mess out real quick, Ethan would have much bigger problems on his hands.

  ***

  VII

  ‘It’s a dead end.’

  Lopez sat in Honor’s office an hour after meeting Ethan at the jail, and watched as the lawyer’s laptop computer played video from the CCTV of the private property alongside the Kankakee River.

  Together, they had sat and watched the equivalent of eight hours of footage, sped up to make it marginally less boring. The camera’s owners had been more than happy to oblige Honor’s request without warrants, and had told her that no boat had been moored other than their own the entire winter. They had also heard no gunshots and nothing out of the ordinary the night of the supposed shooting, other than the police sirens that had preceded Ethan’s arrest.

  The tape came to an end with the dawn, Lopez catching a glimpse of herself just prior to first light, poking around under the bridge and walking onto the jetty. Honor shut the replay off and leaned back in her seat.

  ‘So, if you’re certain that Ethan didn’t shoot Dwayne, then he must have got out on the north side of the bridge, not the south.’

  Lopez nodded. The cameras did not appear to have been tampered with, so Dwayne must have been instructed to get out of the water and make his way onto the golf course somewhere. There, he could have been shot and carried back to the water in the darkness and dumped. Out on the greens at that time of night, nobody would have heard the shot.

  ‘Damn it,’ Lopez thumped the arm of her seat. ‘There’s gotta be somethin’ else we’re not seeing.’

  ‘I don’t know what it could be,’ Honor replied. ‘If this is a set up, it’s perfect.’

  ‘No such thing as a perfect crime. There’s always a chink in the armor. What about Dwayne Austin, anything there?’

  Honor shrugged as she glanced down at Austin’s rap sheet.