John Sandford - Escape Clause

“You were probably right, though,” Virgil said. “You really didn’t beat anything good out of Barry?”

“No. He was very stubborn. We think maybe he doesn’t know anything…” There was some more mumbling in the background. “But of course, we never would beat up this man. That is not the Simonian way.”

“Okay. Now, are you leading up to something with this Barry King story?”

“Yes. Hamlet’s mom, she doesn’t speak so good English. She writes down another name, but we can’t find this man’s name.”

“What’s the name?”

“She watches The Simpsons on TV, you know?” Simonian said.

“Okay, but what…?”

“We think she makes a mistake again. She writes down Simpson Becker. Do you know this name?”

“Simpson Becker? Never heard of him,” Virgil said. And he thought, Holy shit, it’s Winston Peck. “You have any idea of what he does?”

“He is the big brain behind this operation,” Simonian said. “That is what we know.”

There was more mumbling in the background, then Simonian added, “My brother Dikran says we should tell you that there might be two big brains, one here, one from California. Hamlet and Hayk were hired in California, but we don’t know who.”

“Well, I’ll keep an eye out for them, and thank dickweed for mentioning that,” Virgil said. “It’s time you guys went home. If you don’t go home, you’ll wind up in a Minnesota prison. All six of you.”

“We think of this, but I tell you, Virgil: we are a valuable resource. A treasure in Armenian clothing. If you find this Simpson Becker, you give him to us. We speak to him, and he will tell the truth about the tigers. And Hamlet and Hayk.”

–

Virgil got the Simonians off the phone and called Duncan: “Can I have Jenkins and Shrake? Only a couple of days?”

“We’ve got to have them back before the action starts at the fair,” Duncan said. “You got something?”

“Maybe. It’s possible that I’ve identified the guy who’s got the tigers and probably killed Hamlet and Hayk Simonian, but I’ve got no proof. We need to spend some time watching him. The good thing is, he’s got to be working with the tigers… you know, like processing them.”

“Don’t say that,” Duncan said. “I’m still praying that they’re alive.”

“That’s not realistic, Jon… the longer it goes, the smaller the chance,” Virgil said. “At this point, we’d be lucky to get one of them back.”

–

Virgil arranged to hook up with Jenkins and Shrake at a French bakery in St. Paul, where Jenkins liked to go to watch the madding crowd and Shrake liked to go for the scrambled eggs and croissants. They’d gotten a table and Virgil cut through the crowd and sat down next to Shrake, looked around, and asked, “You guys come here all the time?”

“All the time,” Jenkins said. “The girls take me back to my college days.”

“I didn’t think they had girls at East Jesus Community College,” Shrake said. And: “Virgie, what’ve you got?”

“I think a guy named Winston Peck has our tigers and probably killed the Simonian brothers. We need to watch him until he takes us to wherever the cats are.”

“We have any proof that he killed the brothers?”

“No. All we’ve got is the fact that the brothers were helping with the tigers. If we get him with the tigers, though, we can tie Peck to the Simonians as a felony murder, even if he didn’t personally kill them. Though I suspect he probably did. I don’t think there were a whole bunch of people involved in stealing the tigers-no more than you could get in a van.”

“Good enough,” Jenkins said. “You know where Peck is right now?”

“At home, I hope,” Virgil said. “He operates out of his house.”

–

After talking it over, they decided that Virgil would go to Peck’s house, with Shrake and Jenkins trailing in their cars. They’d find a spot to watch the house, while Virgil knocked on the door to make sure that Peck was home. They cooked up a thin excuse for Virgil’s appearance at Peck’s place-Virgil would show Peck the mug shots of the dead Simonians and ask if he’d seen them in any place linked to traditional medicine.

But Peck wasn’t home. Virgil knocked on his door, and a neighbor, backing out of his garage, stopped long enough to say, “Dr. Peck isn’t home. He pulled out an hour or so ago.”

Virgil walked across the grassy strip separating Peck’s driveway from the neighbor’s, and said, “I’m an agent with the Bureau of Criminal Apprehension. Dr. Peck is helping us with a case, but I haven’t been able to contact him. Are you sure it was him pulling out?”

“Yeah, I saw him. The guy with the Ferrari was there, and Dr. Peck came out of the house with the Ferrari guy and they were talking in the driveway, and then he went in his garage and got in his truck and pulled out. It looked like he was following the Ferrari guy somewhere.”

“Sure it was a Ferrari, and not, you know, a Corvette or something?”

“No, it was a Ferrari. Red. Driver was an Asian guy,” the neighbor said.

“You didn’t happen to see the plates on the Ferrari?”

“I did, but I don’t remember any numbers. I do know that there were too many numbers and letters on it. I think… don’t quote me on this… it might have been from California.”

“Thanks,” Virgil said. “That helps.”

“Is Peck in trouble?”

“We’re just trying to get some information, actually,” Virgil said.

“That’s what you always say when a guy’s in trouble. I’ve got kids at home after school…”

“We’re not going to shoot anybody,” Virgil said. “We want to talk to Dr. Peck about his area of expertise.”

“If you say so,” the neighbor said.

–

That was all the neighbor had. Virgil called Jenkins and Shrake and told them that Peck was gone, and about the Ferrari.

“Probably get on to the communications center and find that Ferrari in fifteen minutes,” Jenkins said. “Can’t be more than a dozen of them in the metro area, and probably only one with California plates.”

“I’ll do that, but what are you guys going to do?”

“We can sit here and watch and read our iPads,” Jenkins said. “If he shows up, we’ll call you. If not, at least we’ve educated ourselves.”

–

With no better ideas, they settled in to watch Peck’s house. Virgil spread the word about the Ferrari; forty minutes later, he took a call from a highway patrolman named Jason Rudd who was running a speed trap near the airport: “I think I got your Ferrari. Red, Asian driver, one passenger, also Asian, California plates. He’s heading west on 494. I think he just came out of the airport.”

“Can you run the plates?”

“Doing that now, but I thought you might want a little subtlety here, so I went on past him and I’m sitting on the overpass at 77. They’re about to go by me.”

“Wait a minute. The highway patrol has gone subtle?”

“We have that capacity, though we seldom need to call upon it,” the patrolman said. “Okay, he’s still on 494, out in front of me again. It’s not like I’m going to lose a red Ferrari.”

“Stay way back, see where he’s going. I’m heading that way,” Virgil said.

–

Virgil called Jenkins and Shrake, told them to stay put, and drove over to I-94 and went west. A minute later, the highway patrolman called again. “Okay, he’s on I-35 going north into Minneapolis. He’s doing about eighty, so I could pull him over anytime. Still want me to stay back?”

“Yes, but when we get to where he’s going, I might want you to block him in, get some ID, give him a ticket. We’ll talk about that when we get there.”