The Rescue(39)

“So here’s where the story takes the dark turn, leading me to Penkin’s oddly located body. I call MDC, and they tell me you’ve been released yesterday morning. Free as a bird. I think I mentioned that the warden at Victorville had no knowledge of your release, right?”

Decker nodded. “I believe so.”

“Now I’m starting to wonder. Is there a connection between Penkin’s disappearance and Decker’s release? Not likely. I mean, how is Decker going to locate Penkin on his own? I can’t even find Penkin, and I run the LA field office’s Russian organized crime division! So it had to be a coincidence, right? Just like the ex–Navy SEAL who was shot twice in the head, in a mall parking garage stairwell, two blocks away from where you were released. Also less than an hour after federal marshals pointed you in the direction of a good coffee shop in the same mall.”

“Good thing I headed north to Chinatown,” said Decker.

“Really good. They had quite a scare at that same mall at precisely the time the ex-SEAL was killed. Someone tossed a bunch of firecrackers, flash bangs, and smoke bombs into the crowd on the plaza. A lot of people got hurt. It was total mayhem.”

“Sounds like every other day in LA,” said Harlow. “So. How did you end up here?”

“Sorry. I got sidetracked. I’ll give you the short version. I made kind of a crazy assumption and ran with it. I assumed you had something to do with the mall killing and the Penkin massacre. I don’t normally go out on a limb like that without evidence, but it was purely an academic exercise. The only thing I couldn’t figure out was how you located Penkin so quickly, so I assumed you had help.”

“Lot of assumptions,” said Decker.

“Exactly. The road to hell is paved with bad assumptions. That’s my spin on a classic phrase.”

“I like it,” said Harlow, feigning a smile.

“Unfortunately, you won’t like this part,” said Reeves. “I asked myself, and my division’s intelligence analysts, who in the greater Los Angeles metropolitan area had the resources to find Penkin? Your name was at the top of the list.”

“My name?” said Harlow.

“You’ve provided my division with some spot-on intelligence regarding the Bratva operation in the past. Before I took over,” said Reeves, “I was told they leaned on you pretty heavily for street-level information. They haven’t done it recently, so maybe you forgot.”

Harlow remained expressionless, listening to Reeves lay out his theory.

“We cross-referenced you with the agencies and rescue groups that have provided us with information in the past, finding you closely linked to one rescue organization in particular, through fund-raiser announcements, public appearances, and social media posts.”

“The location of this safe house, and the others, is a well-guarded secret,” said Harlow. “You’d need a sealed search warrant to get that information. I don’t think you have one.”

Reeves raised his hands. “I rode in here on a wave of assumptions, and look what I found.”

“Congratulations,” said Decker. “You get to keep your FBI badge for another day.”

“Always cracking jokes, Decker,” said Reeves.

“It’s about all I have left,” said Decker. “Are we done here?”

Reeves stood up slowly and considered him for a few moments.

“I don’t blame you for what you did to Penkin. A part of me is glad you did it. What they did to you and your family was unconscionable,” said Reeves. “But I can’t let you continue running amok out there. This is over. I’m going to sit on you until the Bureau of Prisons unscrews itself. Then I’m taking you in. Enjoy the beer. Enjoy the comfortable bed. Enjoy the female company. Because it’ll probably be the last time you have any of this again for a really long time.”

“Get out,” said Harlow.

“I didn’t mean anything inappropriate by the female-company comment.”

“Just get out of here,” said Harlow, standing up.

“I’ll be right outside if you need me,” said Reeves, heading to the door. “And Ms. Mackenzie?”

“What?”

“I don’t know what he has over you, or why you’re so emotionally wrapped up in this, but I suggest you take a few steps back and reevaluate your continued involvement.”

She pointed at the door. “I’ll take it under advisement.”

Reeves studied her face for a moment. “You don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?”

“When did you put together those backpacks?” said Reeves.

Harlow stayed quiet, not wanting to give Reeves any sense of a timeline of their movements today. They’d gone straight to an apartment she owned in Pasadena after ditching Gunther Ross in Riverside, assuming that Gunther would eventually ID Harlow and unravel her widespread nest of residences. She owned four apartments throughout the greater LA metro area, all in expensive neighborhoods.

“I’m going to assume you put them together before your apartments were torn apart.”

“I think I’d know if I had a break-in,” said Harlow.

“I didn’t see your places in Pasadena and Manhattan Beach firsthand, but I’ve been to that swank pad of yours in the sky on Wilshire Boulevard. Someone tore it apart,” said Reeves. “I was on my way to your place up by Palisades Park when my agents spotted the two of you here. I hear someone did a number on that place, too.”