Rogue Alliance

THREE



Shyla’s eyes crossed with fatigue. She had been working up her reports for the better half of the morning. She started when there was a hard knock on her door and Johnson peered in.

“Hey, Ericson. Captain wants to see you.”

“Just me?”

“Yep.”

“Hey, have you heard anything about the Jane Doe found in the pig trough yet?”

“No, but it’s been a few days. Give it a while longer. Besides, I don’t think that’s what the Captain wants to talk to you about.”

“Right.”

Johnson’s eyes met hers briefly, hinting that there was a question lurking in the back of his mind, but thought better of it.

“Well, you’d better head on back,” he said.

Sighing, Shyla ran a hand over her hair impatiently.

“Yeah, all right, at least it gets me away from this damn desk for a while,” she said, flipping the file closed and popping it down into the cabinet under her desk.



*



“Sit down, Shyla,” said Eli Straton, the director of F.A.N.C., as she entered the room. He’d been Captain of L.A.P.D. before stepping into the role of director of the Federal agency. Everyone still called him Captain.

Eli was a calm, collected individual at all times. He was a generous and hard-working leader - the kind of boss everyone wanted to work for. Shyla looked up to him. There were times, though, when his quiet demeanor took on a dangerous edge that could make anyone take heed. It was only a slight twitch of his lips, a sharp look in his eye. But it was enough to make even the toughest cops squirm.

Shyla swallowed hard.

“Yes, Sir.”

Straton sat in his chair, folded his hands on his desk and stared her down.

“I wanted to talk to you about the Champlain case.”

Shyla sat up straight. She’d been hoping that’s what he wanted to talk about. It was the biggest case in the state. She wasn’t on the team assigned to it, but she’d been hoping to make her way there eventually.

“Great. Let’s talk. Champlain is exactly why I went down there yesterday. An anonymous tip indicated that Ricardo, the guy I’ve been following on the Circo case was meeting up with Frank the Crank.”

“Frank? Why in the hell is Frank talking to someone like him? He’s small time.”

“Exactly. There is a reason why no one ever sees Champlain. He’s like a myth or something. It’s because he has so many people, guys like Frank the Crank, working under him. You have to go through layers and layers of contacts before you get to the source. I’ve suspected that this little gang I’ve been trying to bust is getting their goods from the big daddy himself. My guy is possibly on the very bottom of a very tall totem pole, dealing on the east side of town.”

“I interrogated him yesterday, after the bust. But he wasn’t cooperating. He’s tired and stressed out now. I want to go down there again and…”

“Wait, wait, wait. Damn, Shyla, I can’t even get a word in edgeways. This guy could possibly- just maybe- have a connection, a possible lead. But we both know it’s not going to get us real far. Victor Champlain is practically untouchable at this point. To bring him down, we are going to have to have some serious goods.”

He sighed and leaned back in his chair.

“This case is getting complicated and attracting more media. The state has been causing a ruckus, claiming that we haven’t done enough to get it under control. The agency has decided that we need to amp up our efforts to nail him before it gets political. And as of very recently, there have been some changes; changes which require a new approach.

“I’m putting you as the lead. I know you know that case as well as anyone else. And given the nature of some of these changes, I’m convinced you’re the best person for the job.”

It was exactly the opportunity that Shyla had been waiting for - head detective on a high profile case. The Champlain case was perfect. Victor Champlain was an up and coming star in the world of drug lords. He had been no one in particular as a boy, but in his late teens he made a few key alliances when he befriended and won the trust of one of the biggest Los Angeles mafia bosses this side of the Mississippi. Apparently, he was a fast learner and highly ambitious, because over the course of the next few years, he worked his way up to multi-millionaire status. His dirty hands were in many pots ranging from black market gun dealing, to the porn industry. But his favorite and most lucrative exploits were in the illustrious and dangerous industry of dealing cocaine.

Recently, he’d acquired the fame that came with such quantities of money and power. Links to other crime in the city had been discovered, not just a few of them homicide. Of course, most of the bodies were of other known criminals and never provided any direct evidence linking Victor specifically. A man with his resources would have many thugs under him to do the dirty work. Still, the State of California had him in their sites as a top priority and keeping careful watch on his seedy activities. To be assigned this case would be a definite promotion.

“Yes, Sir. I’d be glad to,” Shyla answered, containing her enthusiasm.

“Great. The department will cover the costs of your move…”

“My move?” she interrupted,

“Yeah. Didn’t you hear? Champlain moved to Redding this past month. It’s one of the big changes. They say he visited a friend up at Shasta Lake and fell in love with the area, the privacy. He bought a huge property just outside of town at the bottom of the mountain and does a great deal of his work from there now. Still flies his plane down the coast and hits L.A., San Fran., and San Diego, doing business. But his base is there now. And wherever he is, trouble will follow. The Redding Police Department has no clue what they’re dealing with. They’re going to need you.”

Shit. Redding f*cking California. Her home town. She hated that place. Now in order to score the case of a lifetime, she had to move back. The offer was both intriguing and repulsive. What the hell type of sick and twisted fate was this?

“You okay, Ericson? I thought you’d be happy about this.”

She was. Kind of. It was just that she hadn’t ever thought she’d step foot back in that town.

“Um, yeah. I am. What’s the Redding force think about me coming down there?”

“Are you kidding me? People down there are getting antsy now that they’re aware who their newest resident is. Redding PD is stoked to have one of us on the case. A little territorial maybe but that’s to be expected. Besides, they don’t have much of a choice. And with you being born and raised there, you already have an in. You’re one of them. It’s exactly why I knew you were perfect for the job. They’ll be a lot more likely to accept a native.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Shyla said, cringing at the idea of what the town’s response would really be.

Straton met her wary eyes.

“Hey. I know you had a tough childhood, but no one holds that against you. You’ve come a long way. They need you up there in Shasta County and they know it. They’ll cooperate. And Champlain doesn’t know you - you’re fresh meat. You can go in under cover. Get in from the inside. You’ve done plenty of successful under cover jobs. You can handle this.”

“How in the hell am I going to pull off under cover when half the town knows me?”

Straton gave a devilish smile.

“Easy. You’re going in as an administrative assistant to the Chief. You’re moving back home. Lots of people do.”

“You mean I’m going to be a secretary,” Shyla scoffed, “Filing. Getting coffee. Pulling my hair out.”

Straton ignored her sarcasm and rifled through the stack of paperwork on his desk. He handed her a file.

“You’re going in as the Chief’s assistant so that you can be close to headquarters without it looking suspicious. Everyone knows that the assistant knows more than anyone else in a police department. You haven’t talked with anyone in the town in years, right? No one knows you are a detective?”

“Not a chance.”

That was the one thing she had going for her. The Captain said that he knew she’d had a rough childhood, but he had no idea how rough. No one outside of Redding did. The first thing she’d done to step away from that life was change her last name. At age eighteen she went from Shyla Strauss to Shyla Ericson and had her juvenile records sealed.

“Good,” he said, “I seriously doubt most will even remember you. Fifteen years is a long time. Now the only people who will know your position will be your team and the chief. Even the rest of their agency won’t have a clue. Got it? You will head an interagency task force made up of about three. That’s including you.”

“Three, huh? So much for sleeping and eating,” Shyla quipped. Not much of a task force, she thought.

“Hey, budget’s tight. We’ll still have a team here, keeping an eye on his minions and their activities here. You still work for F.A.N.C., but you’ll mostly be answering to Hal Jorgenson, Chief of Police in Redding. You will also cooperate with the State and County if they get involved. You are the liaison, the go-to gal for this case. We can’t send anyone else up there but the RPD will relinquish two of their officers to join your team.”

Shyla couldn’t hold her tongue on that one.

“What? I’m not even going to have Johnson with me? At first I thought I was getting a promotion here, but now it looks like I’m getting some sort of twisted punishment. What the hell is going on?”

Straton kept his voice calm, but Shyla detected his underlying frustration.

“This is a promotion,” he said, “a damn good one. And you aren’t getting punished. You are the one for this job, but we can’t give up anymore of our own. We need them here. And we need you there. Besides, Johnson has no interest in going down there. It’s time you two split ways.”

She ignored the comment about Johnson. She had assumed he would try to rid himself of her soon.

“I’m going to have to babysit a couple of country bumpkin cops who don’t know their ass from a hole in the ground. Great! Might as well send me alone, I’d probably get more done.”

“Shyla,” he warned.

“What? You know I’m right. They probably don’t know jack about this case or how to deal with someone like Champlain. What the hell am I supposed to do with them?”

“You’re the lead detective. Lead.” the look on Eli’s face hardened. His tone indicated that the conversation was over.

“Yes, Sir,” she said, knowing better than to push him any further.

With a lead weight in her gut, she accepted the case. She wanted it and had a lot to do to prepare. The hours would be brutal, but that she could handle. The fact that she had to move back to her hometown was just a minor nuisance, she told herself. There would be questions. There would be small-town gossip and meddling. That too she could handle. She hoped.