Rogue Alliance

TWENTY-EIGHT



Brennan was numb as he walked into the clearing and looked up at the dark, vast sky. The stars were mostly hidden behind a thin layer of clouds which had rolled in. He had already buried the body in the field behind the house just past the tree-line.

As he neared the house, Victor pulled into the drive. Brennan guessed it must have been after two in the morning. Turning on the hose, Brennan rinsed off the shovel. It was cool out, but his body was heated from exertion. The night’s activities and peaks of adrenaline were wearing off. A fatigue like no other he’d ever experienced was beginning to set in. This was not the life he’d imagined for himself. He felt like screaming.

Shyla had seen. She’d witnessed his cruelty, his wrongness. Then she’d walked out the door, asking him to keep her presence that night a secret. If she was willing to keep the horror of what she’d seen between them in order to keep his silence, then she obviously had something much more substantial to hide. At least that’s how he saw it.

That thought gave him no comfort. They were now tied to one another in bonded silence. It felt dangerous and vulnerable. He didn’t want to go to Los Angeles in the morning and uncover the reality.

The crunch of footsteps across the gravel lane told him that Victor had spotted him and was heading his way.

“What are you doing out here in the middle of the night, Brennan?”

He could hear the drink in his voice but Victor appeared to still be fairly lucid.

“Burying the guy who tried to kill me tonight,” he said, tone bland and lifeless.

“No shit? The hit man. Well…where’d you bury him?”

Brennan stood up straight. Every muscle in his body was stiff. He pointed toward the mountain.

“Just beyond the tree-line. The spot doesn’t even look disturbed. No one will ever notice it.”

“Of course they won’t, it’s private property and I doubt anyone will come looking for him. He’s off the grid, working for men who keep a low profile. It’s you I’m worried about. I shouldn’t have left. We had an agreement. Are you okay?”

Victor sounded genuinely concerned. It baffled him.

“Yeah, I’m okay, just tired. I should get to bed. I’ve got a flight to catch early in the morning.”

Brennan walked toward the shop.

“Hey, man,” Victor said.

Brennan turned and waited.

“I uh…I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad we’ve got each other.”

“Goodnight, Victor.”



*



“I’m here to see Ricardo Sanchez.”

Brennan spoke into the intercom and stared up into the camera in the corner by the security door. It was Thursday early afternoon and he just wanted to do his job and get back home. The pace of LA made him jittery.

There was a loud buzzing sound and the heavy door was pulled open by a stocky security guard who was chewing on the end of a toothpick.

“Identification, please,” he ordered.

Brennan whipped out the identification and was glad for Victor’s contacts once again. The guard looked back and forth from the laminated card to Brennan’s face with a bored expression.

“Yeah. Okay. You’re on the list. Come in.”

Ten minutes later, he was seated in front of Ricardo on the other side of a glass partition. Ricardo’s face lit up when he recognized Brennan. He plopped into his chair and snatched up the phone.

“I swear it wasn’t me who called the cops,” he blurted.

Brennan sat quietly, playing it cool.

Ricardo shifted in his chair, perched on the edge of his seat.

“I haven’t been pinching neither, like I know some people been sayin’. That’s bullshit. Whoever killed my precious Sammy is probably the one you need to be lookin’ for.”

Brennan didn’t speak or even blink.

Ricardo licked his lips nervously.

“Why are you here? What’s Victor want? I’ll do whatever he wants to set things right.”

“Who’s the girl?” Brennan asked

“Girl? What girl?” Ricardo asked, confusion flickering over his features.

“At the warehouse, as we were led out, you spotted a girl and shouted at her…”

Recognition lit in his eyes.

“Oh, yeah…I know her alright. She’s been tailing me for over a year, although, I ain’t seen her around much lately. She works for some federal drug agency. She’s a f*cking cop.”

Something quivered in Brennan’s gut but he kept his expression fixed.

“A cop?” he asked, “you’re sure?”

Ricardo relaxed slightly and leaned back with a chuckle.

“Yeah, I’m sure. She’s a looker. I’d know her anywhere. She’s the one that went out to the crime scene when Sammy’s body was found. I know her and she knows me. Come to think of it, she’s probably the one who called. I just can’t figure how she would have found out. But then again, she’s been on my case for a damn long time.”

The room was silent.

“Hey, is Victor…you know, is he gonna help me out here?”

Brennan hung up the phone, stood up and walked away. He heard the faint sounds of Ricardo banging against the window. He kept walking. There was nothing more to say.



*



There was one other stop Brennan needed to make before he made the phone call to Victor. If he was going to break news such as this, he was going to make damn sure it was accurate beyond a shadow of a doubt.

He’d known all along something wasn’t right with Shyla; how she showed up out of the blue so conveniently, her detour through Victor’s office that night, her uncanny ability to wheedle her way into their affairs as a trusted girlfriend. Instinct had told him to be cautious, but he had never imagined that she was a police officer.

The last place that he wanted to go was to the main headquarters of the LAPD, but they had a few old contacts who worked downtown and owed Victor a favor here and there. It paid to know which cops had a drug habit.

Brennan took the cement stairs two at a time and silently wished that he would find out that Ricardo had been lying to detract the focus from himself. But a little voice in his head knew the truth.

When he approached the administration desk, a perky blonde gave him a once over and a flirty smile.

“How can I help you, Sir?”

“Yeah, I’m supposed to meet with Officer Schlesinger later this evening, but I’ve just learned that I won’t be able to make that meeting. I was hoping that I could have a quick word with him right now, if he’s not too busy.”

Brennan knew the cop he was enquiring about was relegated to a desk since an injury two years back. He’d be on site.

The secretary was biting her lip and Brennan figured it was supposed to be a seductive ploy but thought it made her look ridiculous. Why do girls act like that? he wondered. Shyla didn’t. Except for that day at the park; she’d tried a bit like that then, but never again since. Now that he looked back, he realized she’d known all along who he was to Victor and was playing him like a fiddle to get a reaction. The realization should have angered him. It did to an extent, but it made him feel ignorant too.

He shoved aside those thoughts and waited for the secretary to respond.

“I’ll have to radio and find his location,” she said, “he may not be in the building.”

“That’s fine. I’ll wait. Tell him it’s an old friend from Whitey’s café. He’ll know who you’re talking about.”

The woman nodded her head and picked up the call radio. Brennan knew that the best insurance to convince Schlesinger to come down was to use a reference he would instantly recognize as an affiliation with Victor. Whitey’s café was code for wanting to buy cocaine. He’d come down.

Sure enough, Schlesinger shuffled out of the elevator, limping on his left leg with a wide eyed expression. When he caught sight of Brennan his brow furrowed and he glanced around nervously. Showing up at his workplace was unconventional. It would make him nervous.

He approached with a thin grin.

“Well hello.”

They shook hands.

“I’ve had something come up and won’t be able to make our meeting later today,” Brennan said, “so I thought I’d stop by real quick to see if you had a few minutes.”

“Uh…sure, I’ve always got time for an old friend. Why don’t we just step out and have a quick cup of coffee at the bakery around the corner. It’s nearly five o’clock. I get off work in a bit. Can it wait until then?”

“No. It can’t. I won’t take much of your time.”

He sneaked a quick glance backwards and ushered Brennan out the front door.

Brennan took the lead once they hit the sidewalk and led Schlesinger straight toward the limousine he’d come in. He opened the back door and gestured with his hand, indicating his guest slide in first.

Schlesinger gave him a nervous smile and looked like he might decline, then thought better of it. He slid in. Brennan followed and shut the door behind them.

“What’s this about?” Schlesinger asked.

Brennan pulled his phone out of his pocket. With a few taps to the touch screen he pulled up a photo. It was one that he had taken of Shyla and Victor as they stood at the railing of the Shannon before they set sail that Friday evening.

“Do you know this girl?”

Schlesinger squinted as he glanced at the small screen. He grabbed the phone and held it closer for better inspection.

“Hmm, yeah, yeah, I know her. She actually used to be one of ours, until she transferred, that is. Narcotics, I believe. But I could be wrong about that. I’m not sure. She wasn’t very friendly, but she was hot as hell.”

He glanced up and handed the phone over.

“Why are you asking me?”

Brennan shook his head.

“I just needed to identify her. That will be all. You’re excused.”

He opened the door.

Schlesinger paused. “

That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

“Oh. Okay. Well you got anything on you? I could use a little pick-me-up. I’ve got cash.”

Users were shameless, thought Brennan. He shook his head and held the door open. Disappointed, Schlesinger begrudgingly exited the vehicle.

“Say hi to Victor for me,” he said.

Brennan cut him off and slammed the door shut. He lowered the partition and spoke to the driver.

“The airport. We’re done here.”