“Die fokken vark,” Luan said.
Zerbe grunted something.
“What did he say?” Cummins asked. He was tired of these two conversing in a language he didn’t understand. “The least you two could do is keep in it English.”
“You don’t want to know,” Zerbe said. “Believe me.”
Cummins was about to say something when Luan spoke.
“I called you a fucking pig. Do you have a problem with that?”
Cummins pursed his lips. Who did this South African prick think he was?
“It’s actually a term of endearment in our native country,” Zerbe said with a wry smile.
Cummins believed that about as much as he believed in the tooth-fairy.
“Oh yeah?” he said. “Well, just remember I’m still the only one that can identify the artifact.”
“How can we forget?” Luan said. “You keep reminding us all the time.”
The van jerked to a stop a few parking spaces away from the front of the bail bondsman’s office, if you could call it that. Zerbe set a frequency on a receiver and placed it on the dashboard.
“Here,” he said. “You can both listen to a master at work.”
He got out of the car, slammed the door, and walked a few feet away.
After pinning something small and metallic to the underside of his collar, his voice came through the speaker: “How do you read me?”
Luan held up his thumb. Zerbe grinned and began walking toward the front of the bail bondsman’s office.
“You two play nice,” his voice said again.
Cummins leaned forward to listen, but not too far forward. He didn’t want to get to close to this head lion.
“Good afternoon, mate,” Zerbe said in what was apparently an affected accent. “Carter’s the name. Earl Carter, from down under. You Manny?”
“No,” another voice said. “I’m Fred Sutter. Manny’s my uncle.”
“Ah, outstanding. Maybe you can help me then. But first, who were those three fine looking ladies I just saw walking out of here?”
They heard an obnoxious sounding laugh, then, “They call themselves the P-Patrol, and you can guess what that stands for. They’re bounty hunters out of Vegas. Fine bitches, ain’t they?”
“To say the least. You say they’re from Vegas?”
“Yeah, they’re here working a skip—” Fred’s voice paused. “You said you needed something.”
“Yeah, when’s your uncle expected back?”
“He’s here. He’s taking a … He’s in the bathroom.”
“Mind if I sit down a moment?”
Cummins heard the sound of something creaking. This was almost like listening to one of those old radio plays.
“Those two mates with the pretty ladies,” Zerbe said. “They looked familiar, too. They from Vegas as well?”
“Huh-un. They’re from around here. Why?”
“I think I met them at the Bounty Hunter Convention a couple of weeks ago. McNab, or something?”
“McNamara.”
“Right,” Zerbe said. “And the other one’s named Wolf.”
“Yeah.”
There was a sound of a toilet flushing and then somebody swearing along with the sound of what could have been a door slamming into a wall.
“Hey, Sherman,” another voice said. “What did you do with the fucking plunger?”
“My name’s—”
“Oh, hello. I’m Manny Sutter. What can I do for you?”
They heard the sound of what was possibly a large man’s weight dropping into a padded chair that groaned in protest.
“Sherm, go find the plunger, will ya. And take care of the toilet. What’d you say I could do for you?”
“I’m from out of town,” Zerbe said. “Out of the country, actually. Australia. I was here to attend the Bounty Hunter Convention and met a guy who told me to look him up if I ever got to Phoenix. A Reno Garth. I take it you might know him.”
“Yeah, I know him.”
“Would you happen to have his number so I could call him? I owe him a beer.”
“Try his gym. It’s called the MMA Fitness Center.”
“Yeah, he did mention that. You mind I grab a fag?”
“Huh?”
“Oh.” Zerbe laughed. “Sorry, that’s Aussie for cigarette. Want one?”
“No thanks, and I don’t allow smoking in here.”
A peculiar sound resonated, along with more swearing.
“Jesus, Manny. What’d you do to this toilet?”
“Will you knock it off?” Manny said in a loud voice. “We got a guest here.”
“Say, what’s the P-Patrol doing here?” Zerbe asked in a matter-of-fact sort of way. “They working on something for you?”
“Not for me. For the Pope. Now if you’ll excuse me …”
“The Pope? The Roman Catholic one?”
“No, the Vegas one.”
After a few more innocuous exchanges Zerbe excused himself. They saw him exit the office and head back toward them. Luan adjusted the frequency on the speaker and suddenly a couple the voices of Manny and Fred became audible along with a toilet flushing.
“Man,” Fred’s voice said. “You’re lucky we didn’t have to call a fucking plumber.”
“Who was that asshole anyway?” Manny asked.
“I don’t know. Said he knew you. You talked to him.”
“Whew,” Manny said. “Good thing I didn’t let him light up that cigarette. The son of a bitch stunk. You smell him?”
The door opened and Zerbe slipped in.
“How’s the transmission?” he asked. “Coming in okay?”
“Lima Charlie,” Cummins said with a grin. “Loud and clear.”
Zerbe glanced at him, and then took out his burner phone, looking up to dial the number listed in pink neon in the window. He then reached over and adjusted the volume on the speaker.
“Hello, Mr. Sutter?” Zerbe said in another affected voice, this one sounding distinctly tough and distinctly American. “This is Tommy Martin out of Vegas. I’m working for the Pope.” He paused and then said. “The P-Patrol touch base with you yet?”
After another pause, he said, “We’re talking about the same skip, right? What’s his name …?” He let the sentence drop off, then said, “Yeah, Krenshaw, right. Any progress?”
After a couple more exchanges, Zerbe thanked him and terminated the call. He then pulled out his own smartphone and began tapping out something with his thumbs, repeating, “Krenshaw, Krenshaw, Krenshaw …” and then said, “Willard Krenshaw, here it is, hmmm …”
“Willard Kreshaw?” Cummins said, recognizing the name. “Isn’t that the lawyer that was mixed up organized crime?”
“One and the same,” Zerbe said, smiling. “And he’s facing charges himself. A mobster’s lawyer on the run. This gives us a perfect way to start planning to tie up some of our loose ends.”
Car Rental Center
Phoenix International Airport
Yolanda’s cell phone rang and Wolf watched as she answered it, put it on speaker, and set it on the dashboard of the rented Jeep Cherokee. The call was from Ms. Dolly.
“Okay, look alive, you two,” Ms. Dolly said, her Texas twang clearly more evident in her excited tone. “Girlfriend’s gonna be on the move in a white Toyota Camry.”
“We’re by the exit now,” Yolanda said. She turned to Wolf. “You ready?”
He nodded and shifted into drive, watching the access road from the pick-up garage of the car rental structure. Two cars pulled up to the check point, one of them being a white Camry.
“Brenda, I’m coming back to you,” Ms. Dolly’s voice said over their portable radio. Ms. Dolly had brought her team’s walkie-talkies and although they had a rather limited transmission range, they worked flawlessly.
“Roger that,” Brenda said.
The white Toyota pulled up to the check point and Wolf saw the driver’s side window lower with electronic efficiency. A bare feminine
arm extended and handed some papers to the guard, who took them and walked around the car. Wolf edged closer to the exit ramp that led to the street. He didn’t want to stay too close and the assumption was that Krenshaw’s girlfriend, Lola Crest, would either be heading back to the hotel she’d been staying at to pick up Willard, or head to his sister’s house. By the time Ms. Dolly’s hacker buddy had gotten the latest charges on Lola’s credit card and relayed them to the P-Patrol, they were a lap or two behind. Willard Krenshaw and Lola had been skipping from hotel to hotel almost every night under her name, and now they were apparently changing cars. Unfortunately for them, Lola had used her real name for the car rentals.
“Sounds like the son of a bitch is getting ready to make a run for the border,” McNamara had said.
“If they get down to Mexico we’ll never be able to track them,” Ms. Dolly said.
“You got that right,” McNamara said. “Me and Steve don’t even eat Mexican food no more.”
The plan was to follow Lola, figuring she’d lead them to Willard eventually.
“There she goes,” Yolanda said.
Wolf pulled out slowly, easing into traffic a couple of cars behind her.
“Don’t stay too close,” Yolanda said.
“Not planning on it.”
They knew she had one of two destinations in mind. Their quarry was either at the hotel or his sister’s place and from the looks of it, Lola was taking a circuitous route to wherever she was going. Additionally, she’d slowed down considerably and the other two cars that had been behind her had vanished.
Probably wants to make sure no one’s following her, he thought.
He grabbed the walkie-talkie but held it out of sight on his lap.
“Mac, where you at?”
“Coming up behind you, partner.”
“All right,” Wolf said. “It looks like she’s taking the long way probably trying to look for a tail. I’m going to turn off and let you take over.”
“Roger that,” McNamara said.
As soon as he caught a glimpse of the Escalade, with Mac driving and Ms. Dolly riding shotgun, Wolf hit is right turn signal and turned off. When he got to the first intersection he turned left and zoomed down the side street.
“We’re running parallel,” he said.
“Good,” McNamara said. “Just leave the following to us pros. Besides, you two stand out too much.”
Yolanda made a huffing sound and grabbed the walkie-talkie from Wolf.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she said, obviously feigning anger.
“Salt and pepper, honey,” Ms. Dolly said. “They’re either cops or crooks.”
“Or bounty hunters,” Yolanda said, and smiled at Wolf. She lowered the radio and looked at Wolf. “Sounds like we got a chance to stop at somewhere for a latte.”
Wolf chuckled. He knew she was kidding. They came to a stop sign and he turned left and proceeded toward the main road to get behind the Escalade.
The cat and mouse continued with Wolf and McNamara switching following positions a few more times and Yolanda flopping down in the seat to conceal herself when it was their turn.
Finally, Lola slowed and Wolf saw her turning into the parking lot of the Coral Reef Motel. It was a cheap place the individual rooms opened right out into the lot. Wolf radioed the information and kept driving past the motel. In the rearview mirror he saw the Escalade hang a left and pull into the lot.
“We don’t want to overplay our hand,” Ms. Dolly said over the radio. “We ain’t sure if Willie boy’s in there.”
“What’s the plan?” Yolanda asked.
“Looks like the maid’s doing the rooms. Me and Mac will play lovie dovie and act like we’re inquiring about a room. You swing around the back and come up acting like housekeeping. See if you can get a gander inside to see if the pigeon’s in the coop.”
“Roger that,” Yolanda said and then smiled at Wolf and added, “You two make a good-looking couple.”
“Get to work,” Ms. Dolly said.
Wolf swung a U-turn and pulled into the fast-food joint adjacent to the hotel. Yolanda got out as she was pulling her long tresses back into a ponytail. She was wearing a black T-shirt and running shoes and Wolf thought she was definitely the best-looking motel maid he’d ever seen. She was also the best armed because Wolf knew she was wearing the Beretta in a Sport Tuck Belly Band under the loose-fitting shirt.
“See you on the flip-side,” she said, as she clipped the radio to her belt.
“Stay in touch,” Wolf said, picking up his radio and turning it on.
“You know it,” she said, and ran through the grassy area separating the fast-food parking lot from the motel. Wolf pulled into a vacant parking space and watched. The Toyota was parked in front of room number eight and Mac and Ms. Dolly were ambling around at the front entrance by the office. Yolanda came up behind the maid’s cart, which was sitting on the sidewalk in front of room number eleven. She said something to the maid, showed her what Wolf figured was her Bail Bond Enforcement Officer badge, and took something from her before wheeling the cart down to room eight.
The curtains in the window were drawn shut, and the door was closed. Yolanda paused to place her ear against the door. After a few moments she went to the window and appeared to be trying to peer through what was apparently a divide in the curtains. She stepped back and shrugged, then took the card she’d gotten from the maid, knocked, and opened the door. Wolf watched carefully as she appeared to be in conversation with someone.
Yolanda’s voice came over the radio: “Single female in room eight’s checking out at this time. I’ll be cleaning it shortly.”
So he wasn’t in the room, Wolf thought.
Wolf saw Lola pulling two suitcases out of the room. She went to the rear of the Toyota and opened the trunk. After loading the suitcases inside, she went back to the room. Yolanda exited the room and pushed the cart back to its original position. After dumping the master key card on top of the stack of towels, Yolanda kept walking draping one of the towels from the cart over her head like a burka. When she got to the end of the walk she darted across to Wolf and the Cherokee. Mac and Ms. Dolly were already back in the Escalade and pulling out of the lot.
“She’s either going to pick him up at a restaurant somewhere, or he’s sayin’ his goodbyes to his sister,” Ms. Dolly said over the radio.
Lola out two more bags in the trunk and slammed the lid. She got into the car and backed out. Wolf did the same.
“You know,” he said. “I’ve always wanted a souvenir towel from the Coral Reef Motel.”
“Then this is your lucky day,” Yolanda said. “I’ll let this one go cheap.”
They followed the Toyota for several blocks with Wolf staying primarily in the first position. Yolanda leaned forward, looking through some binoculars and said, “Looks like she’s talking on her phone. Wolf relayed this information over his radio.
It soon became obvious that the destination was the sister’s house. Wolf backed off a bit and Ms. Dolly went over their ops plan on the radio.
“Steve, you and Yolanda stay behind on her tail. We’re gonna pass her and set up on the house. Let her park and go in and then we’ll grab him as soon as he comes out. We want to get him before he gets in the car, so if she just honks, we’ll move up and block her in.”
“Roger that,” Wolf said.
From the file pictures and the times Willard had been on television, he looked slim and trim and carried himself with an affected toughness. Not that Wolf was worried about mixing it up with some lawyer, but this guy was in desperate straits.
“Tempt not a desperate man,” he said.
“What?”
Wolf smiled. “Just a quote I remembered from my lit class. I’m wondering if this guy’s going to fight or run.”
“Let’s hope he just surrenders,” Yolanda said.
The Toyota turned right into a subdivision, went through a series of winding streets, and appeared to be heading
to the sister’s place.
“We’re watching the house from down the street,” Ms. Dolly said. “Waitin’ on y’all.”
“Girlfriend’s coming your way,” Yolanda said.
Wolf continued to follow at a discreet distance. They were almost there.
As she pulled up in front of the house, Wolf hung back and stopped down the block. The target house was approximately thirty yards away. Lola stayed at the curb rather than pulling into the driveway. Another vehicle, a BMW, sat in the drive next to the house.
“Looks like they’re plannin’ on a quick getaway,” Ms. Dolly said. “She just honked.”
Yolanda brought the binocular up to her eyes and held the radio next to her mouth.
“Wait for it,” Ms. Dolly said. A few more seconds passed without anything happening. “Waaaiiit for it,” Ms. Dolly repeated, drawing out the sentence like she was narrating a striptease.
Wolf was still at the curb about ninety feet away with the vehicle in gear.
“Jackpot,” Ms. Dolly said. “There he is.”
Wolf tore down the street and saw the Escalade trundling toward the Toyota. Willard was halfway between the car and his sister’s house, frozen in space. He suddenly shook his surprise off and started running, his longish black hair forming into an arrow-like shape behind his head. The Escalade swooped in front of the Toyota. Wolf pulled up in back of it and started to get out. The Toyota slammed into the front bumper of the Cherokee and then lurched forward slamming into the Escalade just as Mac and Ms. Dolly and Brenda were exiting. Wolf saw McNamara tumble out of the Caddie and hit the pavement hard. Ms. Dolly ran to the driver’s window of the Toyota pointing her big Colt Python at Lola. Wolf and Yolanda were already on foot running after Willard. Yolanda closed in fast and the fleeing lawyer cut to his left only to come within grabbing distance of Wolf.
His right hand grabbed Willard’s collar and Wolf then used his momentum to force him to the ground, steering him into the grass. The two men landed in a tangle, with the lawyer yelling, “Don’t kill me. Don’t kill me. I won’t talk.”
Wolf straddled the guy in a similar fashion that the MMA opponent had done to him, but instead of delivering punches, Wolf twisted Willard’s arms behind his back and ratcheted on a set of handcuffs.
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