Kirk Russell - Shell Games

“Try to find him and run the plates on any vehicle that comes off this road. You should see him cutting across the fields. He was on foot unless he had a ride waiting or he’s with whoever broke in.”

“I’m on it; I don’t see him yet. I’ll call you back.”

The glove compartment door hung by one hinge. He cleaned the glass off the seat and backed out, smelling urine as he drove away. He realized someone had pissed on the carpet behind the passenger seat through the opening left where the window had been. His laptop, binoculars, night vision gear, tactical vest, and files were gone, including the criminal history package on James Allen Bailey, the drug peddling charges. Marquez reached under the pas-senger seat and felt the laptop components and the relief that came with finding them. All they’d gotten was the IBM shell. The mem-ory and hard drive were under the seat. The CD with everything relevant was still there.

Roberts phoned back as she got on the access road. “I see him cutting through, going toward the highway,” she said. “And there are papers all over the side of the road. I see your plastic bins. I’ll go get him.”

“Let Bailey go.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, someone may be watching him. I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

When he drove up she was out in a pumpkin field gathering papers. Some of his clothes were in the shoulder ditch. She’d found two pairs of pants, socks, his tactical vest, camping gear, Bailey’s criminal history file, and a fair amount of loose papers Marquez would have to sort later.

“We ought to go pick him up,” she said. “I really don’t get letting him walk away.”

“We know where he lives and we know where he berths. There’s nothing we can do right now but question him, and he’ll deny any involvement and then blow off making this boat ride with Heinemann.”

“Don’t you think that was all bullshit so he could get his friends into your truck?”

“We’re going to play out the hand.”

“I don’t understand, Lieutenant. He just ripped us off for several thousand dollars and he’s walking across a field. What are we doing?”

The SOU had thirteen vehicles it rotated through. Most had steel toolboxes with hidden locks, bolted down to prevent theft because the team was often parked in remote areas. But in the past month he’d switched vehicles several times, and again last night, switching the jeep for the black Nissan pickup, and as a conse-quence he was using plastic bins. It had just caught up to him.

They searched the fields, shoulder, and ditch, but didn’t find anything more. When they quit searching he assessed what was missing, hoping it was a run-of-the-mill theft. What they’d kept were things they could sell and they’d dumped everything that was obviously law enforcement, including his tactical vest. He called Chief Keeler and told him what had happened as he drove south to Pillar Point with Roberts following. Air rushed in the bro-ken window and the truck stunk of piss. He drove into Half Moon Bay to buy something to clean it and kept talking with Roberts.

“I don’t like it any more than you do, and I don’t like Bailey, but bracing him isn’t going to help us. If we’d seen a vehicle pulling away, then we could have done something. But we didn’t and we’ve got to know about Bailey’s lead.”

“His lead is bullshit. He’s playing us for saps.”

“Let’s get a cup of coffee and take a look at Heinemann’s boat.”

They parked well away from Pillar Point Harbor, then eased up in Roberts’s van, walked the last quarter mile, quietly angling for the shops. He pointed out Bailey’s boat, the Pacific Condor, and Heinemann’s Open Sea, three berths down.

“Bailey told me Heinemann thinks we’re already watching him.”

“Another lie. His little criminal mind has been trying to think of ways to get more money out of us and he hit on the fact that you always park there to meet him. Then he got some other part of Team Bong to help him.”

Marquez pointed out the apartment they’d used to watch Pillar Point in the past. They could still borrow it and would have an SOU warden here when Bailey pulled out with Heinemann the day after tomorrow. If an excuse came from Bailey before that, then Roberts was almost certainly right. He could see Bailey now; he’d made it back to his boat and was working shirtless in the morning sun.

“What’s going on now,” Roberts went on, “is his friends are headed up to San Jose to sell the equipment and then they’ll bring his share back to him. Meanwhile, he’s setting up to scam us out of more money. It blows me away. I’ll bet you dinner he burns us and there aren’t any abalone hidden at Elephant Rock.”

“Make it a lunch and I’ll take the bet.”

He’d felt a difference in Bailey last night on the phone and then again this morning. Bailey had something that made him bolder. He was down there working on his boat because he thought he was going to Elephant Rock, otherwise he’d be sleeping off last night. He believed in what he was selling, maybe not all of it, but enough. Marquez looked at the Open Sea, checking for Heinemann, think-ing over what Bailey had told him about the meeting Heinemann had with the buyer.

“You’re going to lose, Lieutenant. No way is a guy like Bailey going to help us out,” Roberts said.

“I’m making a different bet, Melinda. I’m betting he’s going to sell out a friend and you’re betting he won’t.”

“We’ve got a couple of guys down the street,” Alvarez

said, from where he was parked watching Li’s house.

“How long has the family been home?”

“About an hour and until a few minutes ago all the people stopping by have looked like relatives and friends. Now, we’ve got this pair, both male, one white, one Hispanic, sitting in a car down the street. How long until you get here, Lieutenant?”

“I’m coming up from Pillar Point with Roberts. We’re just south of San Francisco but there’s some traffic.”

“These two circled the house once and parked a couple blocks away.”

Marquez had made the decision to leave two wardens, Alvarez and Shauf, in position to watch Li’s house. He’d gotten a search warrant, and yet had hoped they’d be able to let the family mourn, hadn’t wanted to invade their privacy today. But neither was he going to let Li move abalone out of the garage.

“You’re sure they’re watching the house?”

“Ninety percent sure. Do you want me to go ahead and give the Oakland police a heads up?”

“Not yet.”

“Good enough, we’ve got it under control anyway. Hey, what happened with Bailey? We heard you got broken into.”

“Yeah, while I was meeting with him. They got everything fenceable, laptop, camcorder, all the night vision equipment, binos.”

“Bailey?”

“Probably.”

“What are we going to do about it?”

“I don’t know yet. We’ll see what happens the day after tomorrow.”

“That’s when he runs up to Elephant?”

“That’s what he says.”

He told Alvarez about Bailey’s tip, the abalone supposedly stashed at the bottom of the cove at Elephant Rock, and they talked fifteen minutes on their phones about Bailey while Marquez thought about Li. Marquez didn’t have any illusions about Bailey and felt embarrassed about the break-in, that he didn’t have the equipment secured.

It took another half hour to get to Oakland. When Marquez exited the freeway Roberts was less than ten cars behind him. She followed him to a small park not far from Li’s, where Alvarez was already waiting for them. Shauf was watching Li’s house. They walked out across the sunburned grass and put some distance between them and the gangbangers hanging around the fringes of the park.