Racing the Light (Elvis Cole #19; Joe Pike #8)(79)

He did.

He opened the entry video feed and found three different views. Two were exterior views of the call box where visitors buzzed for entry, a wide shot of the area, and a closer angle from above whoever stood at the box. The third view revealed the interior of the entry from the elevator to the entry door.

Grady played around until he found time marks allowing him to scroll back and forth in time.

He did.

Not many people came and went. Almost all of them lived in the building, so Grady recognized them.

Then Grady saw a big hulk of a man he didn’t recognize. The man stepped from the elevator with a duffel slung from his shoulder and exited the building.

Grady scrolled back farther, and saw the man enter. This time he carried the duffel like a suitcase. The big green bag had a different shape now, more rectangular and sharp, as if something inside had corners.

Grady found the best view and paused the image.

This fucker was huge.

Grady had never seen him, but Chow had described him. Skylar’s friend. Josh something. Chow had been trying to find him. And now the fucker had stolen their money and dropped off the painting. The painting was a threat.

Grady was staring at Josh when his cell rang. He took the call.

Richter said, “We need to talk, but not on the phone. Let’s meet.”

Grady said, “Her friend came by. The big guy. He took stuff. All of it. Everything.”

“Jesus, Grady, what’d you do, stand by sucking your thumb?”

“Wasn’t here. He left something, too. I’ll tell you when I see you.”

“Sonofabitch.”

“Tell Chow. Chow was supposed to handle it.”

“The big guy. Shit, it was him. He was here. He actually came here. He said things.”

“Tell Chow. We have a problem, Sanford. A really big problem. And Chow has a problem, too.”

“Let’s meet. Come now. The usual place.”

Grady ended the call. He stared at Skylar’s painting and didn’t know what to do with it. He carried it into his bedroom, slid it under the bed, and left to meet Richter.

He would destroy it later if the painting didn’t destroy him first. The nasty bitch probably made copies.





59





Wendy Vann



Wendy followed Kurt into the cottage. The cottage was where Adele tinkered with her toys and projects and puzzles, which were mostly number fields generated by AI systems. The cottage also housed the secured communications gear and SatLink transceivers used by the staff, as well as their duty gear and equipment. Kurt pulled a black hard-shell Pelican case from a shelf.

“Someone was in the bug box.”

The bug box held their countersurveillance equipment. They swept Adele’s home, garage, property, and vehicles for listening devices every three days. If she went to a restaurant or a friend’s home, they swept. If she went shopping, they swept. Packages and mail and deliveries, swept.

Kurt opened the case. Each device had its place in a thick layer of foam. One foam cutout was empty.

Wendy looked at Kurt.

“Shit.”

Kurt said, “Uh-huh.”

Josh.





60





Elvis Cole



The L.A. City Hall sat across from LAPD headquarters, catty-corner to the Los Angeles Times building, and surrounded by courts, jails, and credit unions. It was a three-tiered building with a wide, heavy base and a central tower topped by an aircraft beacon named for Charles Lindbergh. Counting the beacon, City Hall stood thirty-two stories tall. A seismic retrofit strengthened the structure to withstand a magnitude 8.2 earthquake. The building’s strength was evident in its broad, burly stance. City Hall looked like a bulldog guarding a bone.

The surrounding streets were clogged with end-of-the-day traffic. Pike reached the scene first. He was prowling past the Spring Street entrance when I arrived and waved me over. He’d already been up to the fourth floor where Richter and Locke had offices.

“Here and gone. Made a scene with Richter outside his office.”

“Was he arrested?”

“Not that kind of scene. Stuck a mic in Richter’s face and shouted questions. Deps thought he was a journalist.”

“So they let him go.”

“First Amendment. Richter’s people tried to laugh it off, but the deps are still buzzing about it.”

“About Josh or the questions?”

“Stuff about cash being found in Locke’s home. About pay-for-play deals and Skylar Lawless. Everyone heard. Other members. Reporters.”

Josh was planting seeds. Giving the reporters something to ponder.

“When was he here?”

“An hour ago. Maybe a little more.”

I thought it through and tried to decide what he’d do next. Josh had dropped his bomb and put them on notice. This was a stunt he could pull with public figures like Richter or Locke, but visiting Chow or Tarly might put him face-to-face with the meatball. Josh was smart enough to know this or maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he was so invested in bringing them down he’d lost sight of the danger.

Pike said, “What do we do?”

I dialed his burner again.

Voice mail.

I shook my head.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what he’s doing. He could be anywhere.”