Robert Crais - Free Fall

I said, “You don’t know me, but you know James Edward. You think he was digging for a deal?”

Ray Depente canted his head like he’d been trying not to think of that, and his eyes flicked from me to Pike, then back. There was a physical quality to time, as if it were suddenly still, and moving through it was like moving through something dense and unyielding. “Maybe you used him for a fool. Maybe you thought you could come down here and rip off the brothers, but it didn’t work out that way. The police said you escaped. An innocent man don’t escape.”

“Bullshit James Edward and I came here to find out what happened at the Premier Pawn Shop. James Edward is dead because the cops involved didn’t want us to find out, and neither does Akeem. Your man Cool T set us up.”

“I know you’re lying. Cool T’s righteous.”

“He set us up. He told us when and where to be, and the Eight-Deuce were there waiting for us.”

Ray was fighting it. You could see him starting to think that maybe I was being square. He wet his lips. “Why in the hell did you come back here?”

“Because Akeem wants to kill a woman named Jennifer Sheridan, and I can’t let that happen.”

“I don’t know anything about it”

“You don’t, but maybe Cool T does, or knows somebody who does.”

Behind us, the Hispanic kid launched a flurry of kicks at the heavy bag, then collapsed to the mat, sweat falling like rain from the dark cloud of his hair. Ray Depente abruptly straightened from his fighting stance. “I’ve got a class due in forty-five minutes.”

“This won’t take long.”

“All right. Let’s talk about it. If what you say makes sense, I’ll see what I can do.”

Ray led us back across the wide parquet floor to the little cubicle and said, “Miriam, I need maybe a few minutes alone with these gentlemen. Would you excuse us, please?” Miriam moved out of the door when she saw us coming and stood beside her desk. She peered at me and at Pike with obvious distaste. “Who’s going to answer the phones?” ’

“I will, Miriam. I remember how they work.”

“That fella from NBC is supposed to call.” She didn’t like this at all.

“I can handle it, Miriam. Thank you.”

She humphed and bustled out, and then he closed the door, and went behind his desk. He took the phone off the hook.

A couple of hard chairs sat against a wall that was mostly pictures and mementos of Ray Depente’s Marine Corps years. I took one of the chairs, but Pike stayed on his feet, looking at the pictures. Ray in fatigues showing gunnery-sergeant stripes. An older Ray showing master sergeant. An 8?10 of Ray Depente screaming at a platoon of recruits. Another of him smiling and shaking hands with President Reagan. Ray in dress blues with enough ribbons on his chest to make him walk sideways. Pike shook his head at the pictures, and said, “Jarhead.”

Ray Depente’s eyes flashed. “You got a problem with that?”

Pike’s mouth twitched. “I went through Pendleton.”

Depente’s eyes softened and he settled back, maybe looking at Pike with a little more respect. There are two basic types of individuals: Marines, and everybody else. He gave a thin, tight smile. “Yeah. You got the look, all right.” He crossed his arms and looked at me. “Okay, we’re here and I’m listening.”

I told him about Eric Dees and the REACT team, and that these guys were now apparently involved with the Eight-Deuce Gangster Boys. I told him about the meeting at Raul’s Taco, and what Cool T had told us. “Cool T said that the REACT cops were in business with the Eight-Deuce. He told us that the Eight-Deuce would hip the REACT cops to the competition, and the cops would bust the dealers. He knew we were looking for a connection, and that’s what he gave us. He told us that the REACT cops were going to step on a dope dealer in the park. The cops showed up, but so did the Eight-Deuce. They knew that we were there, and they were looking for us.”

Ray shook his head. “I believe what you say, but I know Cool T to be a right brother. If he told you this, it’s because he believed it.”

I spread my hands.

Ray gave me certain. “Bet your life on it.”

Pike said, “James Edward did.”

Ray’s jaw flexed and he shifted in the chair. “Yeah. I guess he did.” He fixed the sharp eyes on me again. “Least, that’s what you say.”

I said, “Cool T said that the Eight-Deuce are working for the REACT cops, but it’s not tracking out like that. These cops are acting like they’re scared of Akeem, and they’re trying to handle him, but they don’t have the horsepower. That puts a woman I know in jeopardy. She’s hiding with one of the officers involved, and if she’s hiding, it’s because the cops don’t think they can control Akeem. I need to find out how this thing fits together. If I find out how it fits, maybe I can find her, or maybe I can stop Akeem.”

“And you think Cool T’s the way.”

“Yes.”

Ray rubbed at the hard ridges above his eyes and looked out at the students on his mat. A couple of men in their forties had come in and were watching the class spar. Two of the women were sparring, and the remaining woman and man were doing the same. They danced forward and back, punching and kicking and blocking, but none of the punches and kicks landed. They weren’t supposed to land. Ray shook his head. “My goddamned Christ, first Charles Lewis, and now James Edward. How long you figure Akeem D’Muere and these officers been lying down together?”

“Since Charles Lewis.” I told him about the video equipment. I told him how, after Charles Lewis, the REACT team stopped arresting members of the Eight-Deuce Gangster Boys, and that they hadn’t arrested any since.

“You figure those officers wrongfully killed that boy, and Akeem got it on tape, and he’s holding it over them.”

“I’m not sure, but that’s what I think.”

Ray Depente picked up his phone and punched a number. He stared at me while it rang, and kept his eyes on me when he spoke. “This is Ray. Cool T over there?”

I crossed my arms and tilted back the chair and watched Ray Depente watch me.

He made seven calls, and when Ray Depente found what he was looking for, he put down the phone, stood up, and said, “I know where he is. Let’s go find out what the fuck is going on.”

The three of us took Pike’s Jeep, and drove south on Hoover to a row of low industrial buildings on the west side of the street. A two-way alley ran from the street between the buildings to a little truck yard in the rear. Ten-wheel trucks like they use for local deliveries moved in and out of the alley, but a couple of eighteen-wheelers were parked at the curb. Guess the big trucks wouldn’t fit through the little alley.

The eighteen-wheelers had their sides open, and men with hand trucks moved between the trucks and one of the warehouses, going into the eighteen-wheelers empty and coming out full like ants raiding a pantry. Ray said, “Park across the street. Cool T got him a temp job unloading those things. If he’s here, we’ll see him.”

Pike drove past, made a U-turn, and parked so that we had a clear view of the action.

Maybe ten minutes later Cool T came out of the warehouse with an empty hand truck. I nodded. “That’s him.”

Cool T still wore the neon orange cap turned backwards, but the sunglasses were gone, and he had a little yellow Sony Walkman clipped to his belt and a set of headphones in place over the cap. His lips were moving, singing along with something on the Sony. He pushed the hand truck up a long metal ramp and disappeared into the near truck, but a couple of minutes later he reappeared with maybe eight cases of power steering fluid and went back down the ramp and into the warehouse. I said, “Let’s go.”