The Bricklayer

NINETEEN

KATE QUIETLY CLOSED THE DOOR BEHIND HER AND LOOKED AROUND the SAC’s conference room. The briefing had begun and Kaulcrick shot her a deadpan glance in reaction to her tardiness. He was sitting at the head of the table, and the SAC, Mark Hildebrand, sat to his right. She was surprised to see Tye Delson there, who nodded and gave Kate a half smile. Kate also recognized a couple of the supervisors, one of which was Allen Sabine, who had the enduring misfortune of supervising not only Stan Bertok, but Vince Pendaran, the new focus of the extortion investigation. Also sitting at the table was an agent from the Evidence Recovery Team. Off in the corner, as far from the table as he could get, Tom Demick sat in a chair against the wall, trying to remain unnoticed.
Kate pulled out a chair, and Kaulcrick asked, “Where’s Vail?”
“He went back to the hotel. I think he just needed a little downtime.”
“Just as well.” A young agent walked in and handed the SAC a sheet of paper, which he glanced at and then handed to the assistant director. Kaulcrick read it, setting it on the table in front of him. “Kate, we were just discussing where we wanted to go next. The evidence has become fairly strong that Pendaran is part of this.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” she said, “but I think we have to be careful. Remember how strong the evidence was against Stan Bertok.”
“Okay,” Kaulcrick said, slightly annoyed, “let’s review, Kate. Pendaran had a grudge against the first victim, Connie Lysander—motive. Someone had to come up with Bertok’s name for the Pentad—opportunity. He purchased the gun barrel used in the murders with his undercover name, Galvin Gawl—means.” Kaulcrick held up the sheet of paper that had just been delivered. “And now this. Remember those documents you found hidden behind the vanity in Bertok’s bathroom, the Florida birth certificate with the whitened-out name? Well, the lab was able to remove the Wite-Out, and the Florida Bureau of Vital Statistics has confirmed the original document was applied for using the name Galvin Gawl—method. And there’s been a strong indication from the beginning that the Pentad has been operating with inside information. I think we’re safe in assuming that Pendaran is part of this.” He turned to the AUSA. “Miss Delson, I assume that’ll be enough to obtain search warrants for his apartment and car and anything else we’d like to get a peek at.”
“It’s more than enough, but I’m not sure that the ‘inside information’ is legally quantifiable. It could be argued that everything the Pentad knew about this case, they could have gotten through criminal experience, books, movies, or newspapers. The defense could easily demonstrate that at trial. Let’s not give them any help. Everything else is very strong.”
“As long as we can get a search warrant, you can leave out whatever you want,” Kaulcrick said. “Now, does anyone have any ideas how we can identify the one other member of the gang, the one driving the Honda?”
Hildebrand said, “Salton and Pendaran are the only known connections to him. Since Salton’s dead, Pendaran is our only hope. Once we take him into custody, we can threaten him legitimately with the death penalty. If he didn’t commit any of the murders, we can offer him a deal to give him up.”
Kaulcrick turned to Tye. “Which means we’re going to want those search warrants as soon as possible, but I’d like to give surveillance another twenty-four hours to see if he’ll lead us anywhere or to anyone. How’s this time tomorrow look?”
She looked at her watch. It was almost 6 p.m. “We’ve got plenty of probable cause for nighttime entry. Have an agent in my office at four p.m. tomorrow to swear to the affidavits.”
Kate leaned back in her chair. There seemed to be an undercurrent of self-congratulation in the room. The mood was almost giddy. Pendaran was going to be charged in the case even though the evidence had unfolded in a manner not unlike it had for Stan Bertok. Yet no one seemed wary of that. The FBI was finally about to win, and everyone could claim to be part of the success. Kate suddenly realized that she was developing Vail’s need to look beyond the obvious. Because everything had fallen into place so neatly, Pendaran, she decided, was in all likelihood not involved.


VICTOR RADEK SAT on the motel bed trying to ignore the room’s sour odor, which was made worse by a cheap, flowery deodorizer. A box containing the remaining two million dollars sat next to him. Two million dollars and he had to hide in this dump. He punched the box relentlessly until he noticed that his knuckles had started to bleed. Then he began pounding it harder.
How had this happened? He closed his eyes and could hear that agent’s voice on Salton’s cell phone, mocking him, telling him he’d now have to rename the Pentad because there was one less of them. He was the problem, Radek decided. He had failed to die in the railroad tunnel. And he had somehow killed Lee, taking back the three million dollars they had worked so hard for. There had to be a way to get that money back. He considered the possibility of another high-profile murder, but by now they had identified Salton, meaning they were one step closer to finding out who he was. There wasn’t enough time to plan another murder. And with Salton gone, he doubted that any of the remaining members of his gang could pull it off. Again he could hear that agent’s voice, so insulting, so defiant—he was the one who had brought the FBI one step closer to finding him. Before Radek could make any move to recover the three million dollars, he had to kill him.


IT WAS A LITTLE after 5 a.m. when Kate was awakened by a knock on her hotel room door. Before she could get up, a second one came. She reached for her automatic on the nightstand. As quietly as possible she walked to the door, not wanting to alert whoever was on the other side. Through the peephole she saw Vail and unlocked the door.
She sat down heavily on the bed and put her gun back on the side table. “Guess you were still sleeping,” he offered as an apology.
She was wearing a short nightgown and noticed that Vail had discovered its thinness. “You should see me in this with my hair combed and some makeup.”
A quick flash of red rose and disappeared from his face. Even the slightest embarrassment in him pleased her. “I’ve got time,” he said.
“Is that why you came?”
“If I say yes, what happens?”
“Sorry, no hedging your bets.”
“Ahhh, yes,” he offered.
“Oooo, so close, but not quite sincere enough.”
He walked over to a chair where she had left her robe and handed it to her. “In that case…”
She pulled the robe on and tied the belt loosely. “You don’t look like you’ve been to bed.”
Vail rubbed the stubble of his day-old growth. “Not yet. I just finished rereading the file.”
“And?”
“What’s the most logical way to investigate this case?”
“It’s a little early for a pop quiz, but I don’t think it’s by going after Pendaran. I don’t know, I guess you have to dig into Salton’s history, see who he was tight with inside and look for anyone he might have hooked up with when he got out.”
“That’s logical, but it’s one of those things where there are just too many possibilities. While he was in prison, thousands of prisoners came and went.”
“I suppose then you have to go back to investigating the murders, separately and as a group.”
“And that’s what the Bureau’s been doing. But it’s not working, because whoever is responsible was using that investigation to lead us to Bertok and Pendaran. The murders are not the key.”
“Then what is?”
“The drop locations. While the selection of the murder victims can be almost random, the drops are much more critical because they are the most vulnerable phase of the extortion. They’re the only time when the Bureau and the criminals have to be in the same place at the same time, so the Pentad has to be familiar and comfortable with them. There are three locations. The Arizona highway, which is just too long to reveal anything. And we know that the group is centered in Los Angeles, so for them to have knowledge of that railroad tunnel and the area in general doesn’t help us at all. But the naval prison in New Hampshire may be a way into this.”
“Do you think that one of them was a prisoner there?”
“It’s been closed for thirty years, so probably not. But that island is more than a prison. It’s a naval base with a lot of civilian employees as well. It has a hospital, a hotel, and everything in between. It’s a small city.”
“How does that narrow it down?”
“It doesn’t. But with Salton identified, it looks like there’s a reasonable chance we’re dealing with career criminals. Federal ex-cons. New Hampshire is a small state, less than a million people. Social Security numbers issued to residents begin with 001 to 003. Can you get ahold of someone at the Bureau of Prisons and get a list of everyone with a New Hampshire Social Security number who was released within the last year from Marion? Then two years, up to the last five years. Five lists.”
“I assumed you checked Salton’s.”
“New Jersey.”
“That sounds like it still could be a lot of people. With just the two of us sneaking around, it could take forever,” Kate said. “I assume you’ve come to me with this because we are going to be sneaking around.”
“I prefer ‘parallel investigation.’ It’ll sound better at your trial board.”
“So what do we do with this list of people with New Hampshire Social Security numbers?”
“Our target extortionist is now living here, and if I’ve learned one thing about Los Angeles, it’s that you can’t live here without driving. When you get the list of the New Hampshire names, run them for current California driver’s licenses.”
“That makes sense. I’ll get on it as soon as I can get dressed. What will you be doing?”
“Well, I could stay and watch.” She started pushing him toward the door. “Then I’ll be sleeping.”


EVEN THOUGH HALF AWAKE, Vail let the phone ring three times before he reached for it, hoping it would stop or go to voice mail. “Hello,” he said, trying not to reveal the sleep in his voice.
“I’m sorry, did I wake you?” Kate said.
“Funny.” Vail looked at his watch; it was 10:30. “What’s up?”
“For one, the Bureau of Prisons. Fortunately, they’re three hours ahead of us, and I got them to run the New Hampshire numbers. Then I had those names checked for California driver’s licenses.”
“How many?”
“Fourteen.”
“That’s more than I would have liked, but we can probably narrow it down by city, age, crime, anything like that.”
She smiled to herself and hesitated a moment to enjoy what she was about to say. “No need.”
Vail pulled himself up to a half-sitting position. “Aren’t you the little overachiever this morning?”
“I called the agent in charge up in Portsmouth, where the first drop was. They’ve been quietly conducting an investigation up there since Dan West was murdered. The big employer there is the shipyard. I had them check their list of old employees, and guess what?”
“One of your fourteen worked there.”
“Worked there as a welder when he was eighteen. Before he went to prison the first time. Victor James Radek. White male, thirty-eight years old. Released from Marion nine months ago. Did fifteen years for robbing an armored car. Supposedly he was the brains behind a gang that actually hit eight different cars, but the government could prove only the one. None of the money was ever recovered. He was incarcerated in Marion at the same time as Salton.”
“That’s nice work, Kate. For a—”
“Woman?”
“I was going to say deputy assistant director, but woman works equally well.”
“Apparently your tongue is wide awake.”
“We can start with the address on his driver’s license.”
“I’ll pick you up in a half hour,” Kate said.


WHEN VAIL GOT into the car, she handed him a container of coffee. “Thanks. Anyone going to miss you in the office?”
“They’re too busy congratulating one another about Pendaran.” She handed Vail two different photos of Radek. “He was arrested three months ago by Alameda PD for DUI. They e-mailed that to me after I talked to you. The other’s from Marion.”
Vail took a long look at the mug shots of Victor James Radek, memorizing the inner trapezoid of his features, from the outer corners of his eyebrows to the underline of his lower lip. In the local arrest photo, anger had reduced his eyes to slits and his lips were drawn back in defiance. His expression was that of an experienced criminal who didn’t like being caged no matter how briefly. His shoulders filled the frame, and his lean jawline suggested that he was not only fit, but capable of explosive brutal force.
His prison photo was different. He had been in the system for a while when it was taken and had learned that invisibility was the surest path to early release. Prison officials referred to it as “Caspering” after the cartoon ghost who was almost invisibly transparent while just trying to be everyone’s friend. Radek’s expression was as neutral as humanly possible. And there was something about the production quality that left the photo generically stark, washed out not only in color but in depth, eliminating any other clues to the person behind the mask. Vail looked a little closer and thought he could detect the slightest smirk at the corner of the convict’s mouth, as if the world were about to end and he was the only one who knew about it. “Sounds like you don’t think Pendaran’s involved.”
“At that meeting yesterday, I listened to the evidence against him, and it suddenly came to me that this is Stan Bertok all over again. Radek and his merry men put this in place just in case we saw through Stan and the suicide. I was surprised that Tye Delson didn’t question it. I thought she was a little smarter than that.”
“Maybe she was embarrassed because she’s the one who first came up with Pendaran’s name.”
“You’re making excuses for her? You know what that’s a sign of, don’t you?”
“Oh, how I’m going to regret this. What?”
“She’s got a thing for you. And you like that.”
“I’m not sure that’s true.”
Kate laughed. “Then maybe it’s you who’s got a thing for her. I know there’s a thing in there somewhere.”
Vail said, “Is this important to you, Kate?”
“No!”
“Kay-tee,” he teased.
“It’s not,” she said quickly, and realized how unconvincing she sounded.
“That’s too bad.”
His tone made her look at him, and she could see he was no longer joking. Too bad. What was that supposed to mean? She told herself she couldn’t care less. She didn’t have time to peel the layers off Vail’s motives. All she could do was pretend the remark didn’t register. But of course it had. She adjusted the rearview mirror unnecessarily, as if she were extra vigilant, since they had been followed the day before. Reading men’s intentions, at least the more basic ones, had never been difficult for Kate, but Vail, from the moment he knew her name on that Chicago rooftop until this latest overture, confused her. “So what’s the plan when we catch up with this guy Radek?”
“First, hope he’s not at this address.”
“Why?”
“If he is running this operation, he’s smart enough to never have lived at an address listed on a state identification card. At least not since he’s been in the extortion business.”
The address was in Inglewood, and when they got there Kate pulled up under the shade of a tree a half block away. “Do you see what I see?” she asked.
Vail had already taken out the monocular and was examining the gold Honda in front of the address. “That looks like the same car.”
“I used to own the same model.”
“Congratulations on your good taste. I’m sure this guy steals only the most reliable means of getaway.”
“Does that mean he’s there?”
Vail picked up the radio mike. “Call Demick and have him get a phone number for the place while I run the plate.”
Kate got Tom Demick on the phone and gave him the address. He said he would call her right back. When she hung up, Vail was writing down the registration information from the radio operator. “Comes back to a fifteen-year-old Oldsmobile station wagon. Registered owner lives in L.A.”
“Which means the car and the plates are both stolen,” Kate said.
“But why leave it in front of an address that connects him to it?” Vail asked.
“Maybe he’s inside.”
“Hopefully we’ll find out as soon as we get that phone number.”
“Maybe—since you got Salton—he figured you were coming for him, so he just dumped it here and took off in his own car.” Her phone rang. It was Demick with the phone number. She wrote it down and, after hanging up, held it out to Vail.
“You call. A woman will be less suspicious if he answers.”
“What do you want me to say?”
Vail got a look of mischief on his face. “Since you can’t ask for him, ask for Steve. But you got to do it in a sexy voice if this is going to work. Let me hear you.”
Impishly, she shifted herself in the seat and, turning toward him, leaned in. In a throaty whisper, she said, “Hi…is Steeeve there?”
“Very nice, but you need to pucker your mouth a little more.”
“He can’t see my lips on the phone,” she said playfully.
“It’s called method acting.”
She leaned a couple of inches closer and puckered her lips. “Hello, I’m looking for big Steve Vail. Is he there, cowboy?”
Vail leaned back and closed his eyes. “Once more with more emphasis on ‘big.’”
She turned forward and dialed her phone. “If you want more, it’s twenty dollars a minute.”
She put it on speaker and Vail listened as the phone rang four times before a beep sounded to leave a message. She hung up. “Apparently nobody’s home.” Vail opened the car door. “Where are you going?” He went to the trunk and took out the pry bar, holding it up to her as an answer. “Dr. Halligan, I presume,” she said.
“Call me on my cell if anyone shows up.”
“You sure you don’t want me to come with you?”
“Only if you promise to call me big Steve the whole time.”
“I hope he is in there, waiting for you.”
“Then how about ‘cowboy’?”
“And heavily armed.”


FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER Vail got back in the car. “Anything?” Kate asked.
“Not a thing. No furniture. There’s nothing touching the floor except a cell phone in a charger. It’s either a mail drop or safe house.” He punched 911 into his cell phone and, after identifying himself, requested that a marked car be sent to their location. “I got the VIN number. When they get here, we’ll have them run it and get it towed to where we can search it without being surprised.”
“Why don’t you have the office run it?”
“If Kaulcrick or the SAC hear that we’ve found a stolen gold Honda, our little clandestine operation will be over.”
“Which reminds me, while you were hunting-gathering, Kaulcrick called and left me a voice mail. They’re going to execute search warrants on Pendaran. He wants me there.”
“You want to go?”
“And what, ruin my career as a lookout?”


WHEN THE TWO Inglewood police officers arrived, Kate and Vail got out and flashed their credentials. “Thanks for coming out so fast,” Vail said, and handed the driver a slip of paper. “That’s the VIN on the Honda. Could you run it? We’re pretty sure it’s stolen.”
The driver had that threadbare look of an experienced cop. “FBI working stolen cars now?”
Vail smiled. “We think it’s tied to some homicides.”
“In Inglewood?” the cop asked.
“No.”
The cop gave him one last evaluative look and turned to his onboard computer, punching in the VIN number. Almost immediately, it came back as stolen. “Out of L.A.,” the cop said. “What do you want to do?”
“Any chance we could get it towed to someplace a little more private than this?”
The cop smiled. “Sure. We wouldn’t want anyone breaking into it. You know, illegally or anything.”