Robert Crais - The Last Detective

The garage was heavy with the smell of paint. They had painted the van brown and covered the writing on its sides. Mazi was waiting behind the wheel. Mike was already gone. Eric led Ben to the rear of the van.

Eric said, "Me and you are gonna ride in back. Here's the deal on that: I won't tie you up if you sit still and keep your mouth shut. If we stop at a red light or somethin' and you start screaming, I'll shut you up good, then it's the bag. We clear on that?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'm not fuckin' with you. Somethin' happens like we get pulled over by the cops, you smile and pretend like you're having a great time. You come through on that, we'll bring you home. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

Ben would have said anything; he just wanted to go home.

Eric lifted him into the back of the van, then pulled the door. The garage door clambered open as Mazi started the engine. Eric spoke into a cell phone.

"We're go."

They backed out into the street, then drove down the hill. The van was a big windowless cavern with two seats up front and nothing in back except a spare tire, a roll of duct tape, and some rags. Eric sat on the tire with the phone in his lap, and made Ben sit next to him. Ben could see the street past Mazi and Eric, but not much else. Ben wondered if what they had said last night was true, about cutting off legs.

"Where are we going?"

"We're taking you home. We gotta see a man, first, but then you'll go home."

Ben sensed that Eric was telling him that he was going home so that he would behave. Ben glanced at the van's doors, deciding that he would run if he got the chance. When he turned forward again, Mazi was watching him through the mirror. Mazi's eyes went to Eric.

"He go-eeng to run."

"Fuckit. He's cool."

"Ewe fuhk up ah-gain, Mike weel keel ewe."

"These D-boys take everything too serious. Everything's a fuckin' opera. The kid's cool. Kid, you cool?"

Ben wondered what a D-boy was and if Eric was talking about Mike.

"Uh-huh."

Mazi's eyes lingered on Ben a moment longer, then returned to the road.

They wound their way out of the hills along a residential street that Ben didn't recognize, then climbed onto the freeway. It was a bright clear day and the traffic moved well. Ben saw the Capitol Records Building and then the Hollywood Sign.

"This isn't the way to my house."

"Told you. We gotta see someone first."

Ben snuck another glance at the doors. Handles were set into each door, but Ben didn't see anything that looked like a lock. Ben checked to see if Mazi was watching him, but now Mazi was watching the road.

The downtown skyscrapers grew in the windshield like giraffes huddled together on an African plain. Mazi lifted his hand with the fingers spread wide. Eric picked up the phone.

"Five out."

They left the freeway, slowing as they curved down the ramp. Ben looked at the doors again. They would probably stop at a traffic light or stop sign at the bottom of the ramp. If Ben made it out of the van, the people in the other cars would see him. He didn't think that Eric would shoot him. Eric would chase him, but even if Eric caught him, the other people would call the police. Ben was scared, but he told himself to do it. All he had to do was pull the handle and shove open the door.

The van slowed as it reached the bottom of the ramp.

Ben edged toward the door.

Eric said, "Easy."

Eric and Mazi were watching him. Eric took Ben's arm.

"We're not stupid, kid. That African up there, he can read your mind."

Mazi looked back at the road.

They turned between a row of faded warehouses, then over a little bridge along more buildings with lots of spray-paint art and chain-link fences. Ben couldn't see much past Mazi, but the buildings looked abandoned and empty. The van stopped.

Eric spoke into the phone.

"The Eagle has landed."

Eric listened for a moment, then put away the phone. He pulled Ben toward the doors.

"I'm gonna open the doors, but we're not getting out, so don't go nuts."

"You said I was going home."

Eric's grip tightened.

"You are, but first we're gonna do this. When I open the doors, you're gonna see a couple of cars. Mike's here with another guy. Don't start screaming or trying to get out, 'cause I'll fuckin' knock you out. The other guy just wants to see you're okay. If you're cool, we'll give you to him and he'll take you home. You good with that?"

"Yes! I wanna go home!"

"Okay, here we go."

Eric pushed open the door.

Ben squinted at the suddenly bright light, but he stayed quiet and didn't move. Mike was with a large thick man that Ben didn't know in front of two parked cars less than ten feet away. The man looked into Ben's eyes, and nodded, the nod saying, you're going to be okay. Mike was talking to someone else on his phone.

Mike said, "Okay, here he is."

Mike held the phone to the other man's ear so that the other man could talk while Mike still held the phone.

The other man said, "I see him. He's upright and alert. He looks okay."

Mike took back the phone.

"You heard that?"

Mike listened, then spoke into the phone again.

"Now I want you to hear something else."

Mike moved so quickly that Ben didn't understand what was happening even as Mike put a gun to the big man's head and fired one time. Ben jumped at the unexpected explosion. The big man crumpled sideways onto the car, then tumbled off. Mike held the phone near the gun and shot him a second time. Ben moaned from a terrible pressure in his chest, and Eric held him close.

Mike spoke into the phone again.

"You hear that, too? That was me killing the asshole you sent. No negotiations, no second chances – the clock is running."

Mike turned off his phone and slipped it into his pocket. He came to the van. Ben tried to twist away, but Eric held tight.

"He cool?"

"He's cool. Fuck, dude, that was harsh. You mean business."

"They understand that now."

Mike stroked Ben's head with an unexpected kindness. Ben stared at the body as it sank in a growing red pool.

Mike said, "You're okay, son."

Mike pulled off Ben's left shoe. Eric carried Ben out of the van past the body and put him into Mike's backseat. Eric got in with him. Mazi was already behind the wheel. They drove away, leaving Mike with the body.

time missing: 44 hours, 17 minutes

We got our second break when we took Mrs. Luna back to her catering truck. Though Ramón Sanchez was unable to add to what she had already told us, her grill cook, a teenager named Hector Delarossa, remembered the make and model of the van.

"Oh, yeah, it was a sixty-seven Ford four-door factory panel Econoline with the original trim. Crack in the left front windshield and spot rust on the lamps, no caps."

No hubcaps.

I asked him to describe the two men, but he didn't remember either.

I said, "You saw the van had rust spots around the headlights, but you can't describe the men?"

"It's a classic, yo? Me and my bro, Jésus, we're Econoheads, yo? We're rebuilding a sixty-six. We even got a website, yo? You should check it out."

Starkey called in the make and model to be included in the BOLO, and then I followed her to Glendale. Chen had gone ahead of us.

The Los Angeles Police Department's Scientific Investigations Division shares its space with LAPD's Bomb Squad in a sprawling facility north of the freeway. The low-slung buildings and spacious parking lot made me think of a high school in the 'burbs, only high-school parking lots don't usually sport Bomb Squad Suburbans and cops in black fatigues. Not usually.

We parked beside each other in the parking lot, then Starkey led me to the white building that belonged to SID. Chen's van was outside, side by side with several others. Starkey waved our way past the reception desk, then brought me to a laboratory where four or five workstations were grouped together but separated by glass walls. Criminalists and lab techs were perched on stools or swivel chairs, one in each glass space. Something sharp in the air stung my eyes like ammonia.