Ridley Pearson - The Body of David Hayes

“I wired that money out of the bank myself,” Svengrad said, at which point Boldt knew no tape recorders were operating. He felt free to talk openly now.

“I know that.”

“Where is it?”

“You’re the one who wired it. You just said so yourself.”

“The police intercepted it. That was not part of our agreement.”

“If we’d intercepted it, you’d be wearing orange coveralls. It would be front-page news, and I would know about it. But you know that as well, so I’ve got to think that the first thing-the first name -that popped into my head also popped into your head.”

Svengrad opened a desk drawer and placed a black videotape on the blotter in front of him. “We had an agreement,” he said, sliding the tape toward Boldt, who didn’t believe the gesture for a moment.

“This, and how many more copies?”

“The only copy.”

“I don’t believe that.”

Svengrad shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

“What is it you want?”

“No,” Svengrad said. “It’s what you want.” He met eyes with Boldt, glanced over to make sure the office door was closed, and said softly, “I’ll give you Alekseevich. Physical evidence, also. You give me immunity, I’ll even give you a witness to the tortures.”

This was an unexpected and exceptional offer, but Boldt showed nothing of his surprise. He eyed the videotape, wondering if it could possibly be the only remaining copy. “And in return?”

“His location. Hayes. Anything you know about where he is. That, and if you have him, then you call off the dogs for a few minutes. Send them out for coffee.”

“You think he did this to you again? Intercepted the wire transfer? Would he do that? He’s not stupid. And even if he did, do you think he’s anywhere any of us could find him?” Boldt allowed a grin. “He did it again?”

Svengrad was not amused. “You know where he is.”

Boldt shook his head.

“You have him in custody. Why else did you lock up Foreman? Hayes is cooperating with you.”

“Foreman is being held by Treasury for questioning, nothing more. No charges have been filed. In the end they’ll determine he has done no wrong. A little overeager is all. Clearing this case took him over. He beat the tar out of Hayes to get to the truth, and then tried to cover his tracks. It happens.”

Svengrad wore a look of contempt. “I’d hoped we could help each other.” He placed his hand on the videotape and drew it back toward himself.

“Let me ask around.”

“It’s the original tape,” Svengrad said, picking up on Boldt’s line of sight.

Boldt knew that already. The neatly typed surveillance title on the spine of the videocassette told him as much. “I thought you were giving it to me. The prior agreement.”

“It’s still possible, but you will have to do this other thing for me.” Boldt suspected this would go on the rest of his career. The tease, the request for another favor. Again he considered LaMoia’s device.

“How would Alekseevich be handled?” he inquired, offering Svengrad the first glimmer of hope.

“However you want. We’d let you know where to find him. You’d pick him up. I’d deny any accusations. I’d need the letter of immunity beforehand.”

That was never going to happen, but Boldt nodded as if it might. The identity of the government snitch would remain protected. “I can make some inquiries.”

“A location for Hayes is all I need. One phone call.”

Boldt retrieved his weapon and cell phone and left. He walked out to LaMoia’s Jetta through a light mist and sat down into the passenger seat.

“So?”

“Blackmail. He wants Hayes. The wire never reached his account.”

“Imagine that,” LaMoia said, knowing Boldt had arranged this, had kidnapped Hayes from the warehouse in order to accomplish this.

“It’s only the two of us. You understand that.”

“Three of us. You have to include Hayes.”

Boldt nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “For a minute there, I debated giving him up. He offered me Alekseevich in return.”

“A lot of good that would do us,” LaMoia said, as angry and frustrated about the protection surrounding Alekseevich as Boldt.

“He was incredibly calm about it,” Boldt said. “I thought he’d be much angrier. Violent, even.”

“That’s good. That means he hasn’t connected it to you or Liz.”

“He’s going to use the tape,” Boldt said. “I sat there, and I looked in his eyes, and I knew that he’d take me down at the first opportunity. He wants to believe Hayes did this to him, but he’s not one hundred percent convinced, I don’t think. He’ll burn us, just to get back at me in case I had anything to do with it.”

“It was a hell of a stroke, Sarge, manipulating him to input that account number himself .”

“It’s the only thing saving us. He can convince himself that Liz didn’t cross him because he typed in those numbers himself.”

“And who else but Hayes could intercept that wire?” LaMoia said, admiration for his lieutenant in his voice.

“Right.”

“I found an outlet,” LaMoia said. “There are a couple on the west side of the building. Do me a favor and go home and spend a night with your family. Don’t do anything on this until tomorrow.”

“You can’t take this kind of risk alone, John.”

“Message received. Just go home and sleep on it, would you?” He added, “Listen, if I do this, the Sturgeon General will be sure it was Hayes. You know he will.”

“The grand jury will sit Thursday. Alekseevich testifies. A week or two from now and Svengrad’s in lockup.”

“So take a vacation.”

“I don’t want you doing this alone.”

“I heard you the first time. So?”

“So,” Boldt said, after a moment of thought, “I’m coming with you.”

“What’s going on?” Liz asked from the warm side of the bed.

Boldt, in the familiar act of dressing into street clothes in the dark, said, “I’ll be back within the hour.”

“Are you going to tell me?” she asked in a groggy voice.

“No,” he said. “Better if I don’t. Better that you could answer questions honestly.”

“Questions from whom?”

“Internal Investigations.” That silenced her for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” she said, sensing her own role in whatever it was he had planned.

“Me too,” he said. “But maybe this is the end of it.”

“If only,” she said. “Is it dangerous?”

“I don’t think so. Not particularly.”

“It’s not worth it if it is.”

He stood over her at the side of the bed. He could just make out her face in the gray light that leaked around the perimeter of the window blinds. “You never woke up,” he said. “Never noticed me missing from the bed.”

“If you’re trying to scare me, it’s working.”

He left the room, stopping in the kitchen to make a traveling cup of tea.

LaMoia’s Jetta was parked behind an art supply store in Ballard, as planned.

“Yo,” the detective said, as Boldt slipped into the passenger seat. LaMoia looked like it was twelve noon.

They drove to within a hundred yards of Svengrad’s warehouse in complete silence. Then LaMoia pulled over and withdrew a “drop gun” from the glove compartment. Not SPD issue, and if shots were thrown, it wouldn’t be traceable to LaMoia.

“I don’t like the look of that,” Boldt said.

“Get over it.”

“You’re nervous.”

“I have no idea what that thing in the trunk is going to do. What I do know is that I’m not parking anywhere near that warehouse because cars these days are all about computer chips, and that thing fries computer chips. So here’s the deal: You’re the wheel man. You drop me off, wait exactly two minutes, and return to pick me up. I can’t keep a phone or radio on me, the thing will fry them too, so it’s all about timing. You hear shots fired, I’d appreciate some backup.”