'We got the ballistics match on the five-forty-five automatic that could end up putting Sammy behind two murders. If Stanislov wants to get rid of the Petrovitches like he said, that gun could do it.'
'You nuts? We can't give these people that part of our case.' Broadway stopped chewing and his mouth fell open in astonishment.
'Close your fuckin' mouth,' Perry said. 'Bad enough I gotta look at ya without watchin' that mess a chaw get goobered.'
Broadway swallowed and shook his head. 'If we give that information to Stanislov, and it turns out he was lying and the Petrovitches really are working for him off the books, then that murder weapon gets dumped in the ocean and we'll never make our case.'
'I didn't say it was perfect, but we need to find a way to unstick this.'
Broadway threw the half-eaten hotdog in the trash. Apparently, I'd destroyed his appetite.
'They won't come to a meeting, no matter what we give 'em,' he finally said.
'We don't know that,' I persisted. 'Look, we're out of moves, and with Homeland circling us, we gotta set up something fast.'
Suddenly, Perry snapped his fingers and we both turned.
'How 'bout we call in your Uncle Remus,' he said to Roger.
'We don't have a warrant to plant a bug, and he won't wire one up without court paper. I ain't ready to put my badge in Lucite,' Roger said, referring to the department's practice of encasing a cop's badge in a block of plastic as a souvenir to take home after he left the force.
'Not plant a bug, dickhead. I'm thinking Remus should just turn one of his old ones back on.'
'Who the hell is Uncle Remus?' I asked.
'Ain't named Remus,' Broadway said. 'That's just what this gap-toothed cracker calls him. He's talkin' about my Uncle Kenny. He's an electronic plumber for the National Security Agency in L. A. When NSA gets a warrant to plant a bug, Kenny and his technical engineers do the black bag job; go into the location at midnight and plant the pastries. These boys are real craftsmen. Dig up floors and run fiber-optic cable all through the walls. Got electronics so small, the lenses and mikes are no bigger than computer chips. They plaster everything up, paint it over, and leave the space just like before. In less than eight hours, they got the place wired up better'n a Christmas window and you'd never know they were ever there.'
'So how does that help us?' I asked.
'After the cases go to court, most of this shit is never pulled out,' Broadway explained. 'It's usually too dangerous to go back and remove the hardware, so they just turn it off and leave it. Uncle Kenny's got deactivated bugs in buildings all over town. The beauty of Perry's idea is, maybe since the bugs are already in place, we don't need a warrant to turn one back on.' He looked at Emdee.
'It's a unique concept, untested by law,' Perry answered. 'Who knows? I'm saying we don't.'
'I still don't get it,' I said, wondering how random bugs in buildings around town helped us.
'Since the bugs ain't where the Petrovitches are,' Perry said, grinning. 'All we gotta do is get the Petrovitches to the bugs.'
Then he told us what he had in mind. It was smart but also risky. There was no way our bosses in the department would ever sanction it. That meant we'd have to run a dangerous operation off the books without LAPD backup.
We sat on the pier feeling the warm sun and the thundering surf.
Finally, I stood and said, 'Okay, but if we're gonna do this, we need to find somebody to watch our six.'
'Except, we can't go to Alexa, Cubio, or Tony,' Broadway said. That means we've gotta get these intelligence agencies to help us.'
'We can't have dickwads and liars holding our back,' Emdee argued.
'We've got no choice,' I said. 'Sooner or later, we're all gonna be dead anyway.'
Chapter 51
I'd been away from home way too long, and tomorrow was going to be a busy, dangerous day, so I decided to sleep in my own bed tonight and make love to my wife. I also wanted to sit down and have a long talk with Chooch.
I exited the freeway on Abbot Kinney Boulevard, then glanced in my rearview mirror. Coming down the off- ramp several cars back, was a familiar vehicle. A white Econoline van.
Zack?
I doubled back, made two quick rights, and came around behind it. But the van took off, accelerating up the street. It shot through a light just as it was changing, and I got totally blocked. I never got close enough to read the plate. All I could do was watch in frustration as the taillights headed back onto the freeway and disappeared.
Almost immediately, my mind started to deconstruct the incident. I hadn't actually seen the driver or plate number, so how did I really know it was Zack? How many white Econoline vans were there in Los Angeles anyway? And here's a big one. How could Zack know I'd be on that freeway at that exact time? Wasn't it more probable that it was just some random white van that sped up to beat the light?
I was trying to smooth it over, to make it go away so I wouldn't have to deal with it. But somewhere deep down, I already knew the answer.
It was Zack and he was coming after me.
I approached my house from the Grand Canal sidewalk, pausing to look around before opening the white picket gate and heading across my backyard. If Zack or the feds were following me, coming home could be a major mistake, but I needed to be near the people I loved and who loved me. I moved to the sliding glass porch door and found it locked. Just as I getting ready to go around to the front and use my key, Delfina appeared in the living room holding Franco in her arms. She spotted me through the glass, ran across the carpet, and opened the slider.
'Shane,' she said, leaning forward and kissing my cheek. 'I'm so glad you're out of the hospital! But Alexa said you wouldn't be coming home.'
'Changed my mind.'
Franco was stretching out a welcoming paw, so Delfina handed the marmalade cat over. As soon as I took him, he started purring and nuzzling my chest. It's nice to be wanted.
'Guess what?' Delfina said. 'This afternoon we got a call from Pete Carroll. He wants Chooch to come to the school next week and meet all the coaches. It's an official visit. Chooch thinks it means they're going to offer him a full scholarship. If he wants to go there, he needs to sign a letter of intent by February fourth.
'That's great!' I said, happy that it was finally working out.
'He's in his room calling the world,' she laughed.
I walked into the makeshift garage bedroom. Chooch hung up the phone and turned as I entered.
'Dad, it's so cool you came home tonight,' he beamed. 'Mom said you were undercover for a few days. You gotta hear what just happened!' One sentence fell on top of the next.
'Del just told me.'
'Is this sweet?' A grin spread, lighting his handsome face.
'You bet it is.'
I put Franco down and sat on the foot of Chooch's bed as he spun his chair around to face me.
'Y'know, Dad, I've been going over what you said, and you getting hurt and going in the hospital sorta put a lot of this in perspective. I think you were right about most of what you said.'
'I was?'
'Yeah, about using football so people would think I was special. But that's only part of it.'
He paused and furrowed his brow. I knew he was coming to an important realization so I sat back and waited.
'When I was a kid growing up with Sandy, it wasn't like she was even my mother,' he finally said. 'She was always off doing whatever, and she had me stashed at one boarding school or another, always safely out of the way, so I wouldn't judge her. But I was so young I didn't understand it was about her. I thought it was about me. I thought I wasn't important enough to her.'
