Snitch

  “Criminals don’t make me cynical.”

  “Then what does?”

  “One time I arrived at a hostage situation. The man had his wife at gunpoint and was threatening to kill her in the next ten minutes. The SWAT team and negotiators were on their way, but we only had about a minute left. Something told me this guy was for real. So while he was at the front window, peeking out at the police, I snuck in through the back door and shot him in the shoulder. The woman ran to the bedroom and the police stormed the place. You want to know what happened next?”

  She stopped and turned to him, her arms crossed. “What?”

  “The woman came tearing out of the bedroom, kicked me between the legs, and then hit me over the head with a vase.” Jesse started walking again, taking the lead. “So excuse me if I don’t see the world through rose-colored glasses.”

  “I live in reality too. I just choose to see the glass half-full.”

  “I suppose that’s why you think Kyle’s a good cop … He works because he fills up a glass?”

  “Kyle works because he cares and he tries hard.”

  “It takes a lot more than that to make it in undercover work. Unless, of course, you plan to ‘aw-shucks’ the bad guys to death.”

  She stepped in front of his path. “Look, my dad always said there are two kinds of people in the world: the kind that let their problems beat them, and the kind that beat their problems. We can figure this out. Maybe Kyle has some strengths we just haven’t uncovered. Give him time.”

  “We don’t have time. And I don’t want my name attached to a task force that crashes and burns before it ever gets off the ground.” Jesse scanned the street. “What’d he do, go shopping?”

  “You know what? I really don’t like you. I’m trying … I really am. I usually give people the benefit of the doubt, but you seem to be beyond the benefit.”

  “Mack, I hate to break this to you but—”

  “Shut up!” she shouted. “Just shut that stupid, egotistical, know-it-all mouth of yours. Every time you talk, my hair stands on end. I’ve been trying my best to get over this. I really have. I’ve prayed, I’ve confessed, I’ve read Gods Word on the power of forgiveness. But dang it, Jesse, every time I’m around you, you make me sin!”

  Jesse raised an eyebrow. “Lust?”

  “Anger, you idiot!” She took a deep breath and threw up her hands. “See what I mean? I just blew it. Again. Last night I really thought I had a handle on this. I prayed and heard God telling me that you have no idea how obnoxious you are so I shouldn’t hold you accountable to that.” She looked toward the sky and then back at him, this time with less fire in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”

  Jesse held up a finger, about to retort, when Kyle stepped out from the deli shop.

  “Hey,” he said. He looked at the papers in Mack’s hand. “You did it?”

  “Yeah, no thanks to you,” Jesse said. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  “Um, guys. Wait.”

  Jesse turned. “What is it now, Kyle?”

  “I might’ve messed up.”

  Chapter 19

  Ron walked into the house where his team had assembled. He held up Ruth’s car keys; he’d finally been given approval to use her cars. “Our friendly neighbor across the street has been kind enough to loan us her cars. You 11 have to get all of yours back to your houses so you can start using these.” He threw the keys on the table and sensed a nervousness in the room. “What’s going on? How’d the training go?”

  Jesse and Dozer stepped forward, and handed him their apartment paperwork. “Well done,” he said, then looked at Jesse. “You pulled it off.”

  “You threw quite a wrench in,” Jesse said.

  “I didn’t want this to be too easy for you. I wanted to see what you would do with it.” He looked at Mack. “Good job, everyone.”

  “Thank you,” said Mackenzie. “It was a team effort.”

  “Not exactly,” Jesse said. He looked at Kyle. “Kyle messed up.”

  “What do you mean?” Ron asked.

  “I don’t really know what I mean. Something happened, but he wouldn’t say anything else until he talked to you.”

  Kyle sat in a chair at the breakfast table, chewing his lip as his eyes darted around the room.

  “Kyle?”

  “Look, I’m in way over my head. It sounded like fun, but now I’ve gone and done something … I may have really screwed you all up. I think it’s just time I quit.”

  “I agree,” Jesse said.

  Ron held up his hands. “Wait, hold on. First of all, Kyle, it’s hard for me to imagine you could have screwed anything up too badly. This was a training exercise. Why don’t you just explain what happened?”

  “It all started when I called Jesse by his real name instead of his undercover name. It nearly blew the operation—”

  “Exercise,” Ron inserted.

  “I got flustered and Jesse sent me downstairs for a smoke.”

  “You smoke?” Ron asked.

  “No … no, it was just an excuse to get me out of the room.”

  Ron looked at Jesse. “It seems that it all worked out. You and Mack were able to smooth things over, right?”

  “There’s more,” Kyle said. “I decided to get a sandwich. I eat ham sandwiches when I’m nervous, and I saw this deli right across the street. I sat at one of the tables in front of the shop. The next thing I know, I’m having a conversation with this guy, who then asks if he can have a cigarette. Jesse had given me a pack, so I said sure, and then I told him he could keep the whole pack. And then I got the stupid idea that while I was sitting there, I should practice my undercover identity. I felt a little ridiculous doing it, so”—Kyle sighed heavily—“I don’t really know how it happened, to tell you the truth.”

  “What happened, Kyle?” Jesse asked.

  Kyle reached into his pocket, pulled out a folded napkin, and laid it flat on the table. Everyone leaned in to read it.

  “A phone number?” Wiz asked.

  Mack looked at Jesse. “Looks like you’re not the only one who scored a phone number.”

  Jesse looked at Kyle. “I don’t get it. Whose number is this?”

  Kyle mumbled something nobody could hear.

  “Speak up,” Jesse said.

  “It’s the phone number for a guy who wants to sell stolen auto parts at a discounted price to a body shop I told him I wasn’t really opening.”

  Ron grabbed a chair, pulled it next to Kyle, and sat down. “Kyle, what exactly are you saying?”

  “That’s the problem! I don’t really know what I’m saying,” Kyle said, his voice heavy with emotion. “I was sitting there telling this guy that I wasn’t really who he thought I was, or who I thought I was, and that I wasn’t opening a ‘real’ body shop, and the next thing I know, he’s giving me his number and wanting to sell me illegal parts.”

  The room suddenly grew quiet, except for a strange noise that Jesse recognized immediately. “Dozer, wake up!” he shouted. Everyone turned to watch Dozer snap out of his catnap. Then everyone started asking Kyle questions at the same time. Ron settled them down.

  He focused on Kyle. “Did you mention that this was an undercover operation?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, I was talking about how hard it is to be someone you’re not—”

  “Did you say the word ‘undercover’?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “What did you say about the body shop? Did you say where it was located?”

  “No. I just said something about it not being a conventional body shop.”

  “But you didn’t mention that it was an undercover job or that the body shop was a sting operation?”

  “No. Not directly, anyway. I think he misunderstood me.”

  “What was this guy’s name?” Jesse asked.

  “He didn’t say. Just wrote down his phone number.”

  “Did you say your name?”

  “I wasn’t exactly sure if I should
say my real name or my undercover name or just make something up, so I didn’t say anything. I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry.”

  Jesse put both of his hands on the table and looked down. “Dude, you are some piece of work. Don’t you understand what you’ve done here?”

  “I said I was sorry!”

  “Kyle,” Jesse said, “you scored big. You got us the phone number of a guy who wants to sell us stolen parts. We’re in.”

  Wiz said, “Except we’re not ready. How long before we can open up the shop?”

  “We’re three weeks out, at least,” Ron answered. “We still need the framing equipment.”

  “Why not open early? We could do oil changes and maintenance stuff, at least to get something up and running,” Dozer said.

  “If we don’t have something to offer this guy, he may take his business elsewhere, and then we’ve got nothing,” Jesse said.

  “Okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” said Ron. “The guys with the auto experience aren’t available immediately. There is a mound of paperwork to do and at least four different agencies wrapped up in this. We need guys in there with experience or we’re going to look like exactly what we are: undercover officers posing as a body shop crew.”

  “This guy’s obviously desperate,” Jesse said. “He approached Kyle, left him his phone number.”

  “Sarge is right. If we open up without looking authentic, we’re going to raise suspicion,” Wiz said.

  “I say we make contact with him anyway. Tell him we’re willing to deal under the table to get some parts in before we open up,” Jesse said.

  Ron said, “I’m not comfortable with that. None of you have enough experience with cars to make this work.”

  “There’s no way to get one of these insurance guys in here quicker?” asked Mack.

  Ron shook his head. “Believe me, four weeks is fast. This kind of thing can take upwards of three months. I’m already pulling all the strings I can to get them here in that amount of time.”

  “So we basically just need one guy who can be the front man, right?” Mack asked. “Someone who can speak the language.”

  “At least,” Ron said.

  “Okay,” Mack said. “I have a brother. His name is Hank. He’s really good with cars and used to work for a mechanic. And he’s unemployed right now, so I don’t think he’d mind coming out here.”

  Before Jesse could ask the obvious, indelicate question, Ron said, “Mack, what kind of disposition does your brother have? I mean, could he handle something like this?”

  “He’s quiet, but really reliable and knows what he’s talking about with cars. I could call him, see if he could be here in a couple of days.”

  Jesse’s gaze met Ron’s, and Ron could tell the wheels were turning. Ron wasn’t so sure. A certain amount of flexibility was necessary when working undercover, which was why the by-the-book personalities never made good undercover cops. But this could get out of control, and quickly. In fact, Ron thought as he looked at Kyle, it already had.

  Dozer spoke up. “So we send Kyle in, make additional contact with this guy, and start the exchange.”

  Wiz said, “He’s probably not the biggest fish, but I bet he can lead us to someone who is.”

  Ron stood, trying to figure out how he was going to break the news. He realized there was no way around this except to tell them. “Look, guys, here’s the deal. Kyle is not an undercover officer.”

  “Finally,” Jesse said. “I thought I was the only sane one here.”

  “He’s not an officer at all.” Bewilderment swirled across their faces. “Kyle’s a friend. I asked him to participate in the training. The purpose was to put him into situations with you and watch how each of you handled … complications.”

  Now everyone was staring at Kyle, who looked relieved to have his secret out on the table.

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” Jesse said.

  “Makes more sense now, doesn’t it?” Ron said.

  “So now what do we do?” Wiz asked. “Kyle’s our ‘in’ with this guy.”

  “We get creative. We figure out how to bring in one of Kyle’s associates—one of us—who would work the deal. I don’t think it’s going to be that hard,” Jesse said. “Kyle can make initial contact, and then we take it from there.”

  “I’m not comfortable with that,” Ron said. “The plan was never to send Kyle out to the field.”

  Jesse looked at Kyle. “It’s just for one meeting. Kyle meets him, gets his name, then drops the name of the guy who handles the money, Tony Ramone. Then we’ve got him. From there, we work our way up and see where the trail leads.”

  Kyle said, “I can do this. I know I can. I know I’ve screwed up a lot of stuff, but I want to finish this. Jesse’s right. This guy made contact with me. He’s not going to deal with anyone else unless I vouch for them.”

  Ron leaned against the kitchen wall. It would be a gigantic risk. It was absurd. Ridiculous. Insane. Just like the six-month deadline for the task force. A huge shortcut was handed right to them. How could they pass this up?

  Ron was reasonably certain that this guy was not at the top of the food chain. The real pros would never have handed out a phone number so easily. But it was a foot in the door, and that’s what they needed.

  Jesse stopped pacing. “What do you think?” he asked Ron.

  “I’m not sure,” he confessed. “There’s a lot that could go wrong.”

  “No offense,” Mack added, looking at Kyle.

  Jesse approached Ron. “Come on, Sarge. This could work. We’ll have teams standing by, we’ll control the environment, the location. This could be huge. How can we pass this up?”

  The room seemed to concur.

  “Sarge, don’t look so worried,” said Jesse.

  “I just don’t know what I’m going to tell her.”

  “Captain Gates?”

  “Nan.”

  Chapter 20

  Across the smoke-filled living room, Rhyne watched Mason puff on a cigarette. Every time he took it out of his mouth, he would look at it like it was made of gold.

  “I didn’t know you enjoyed smoking that much,” Rhyne said as he folded his newspaper.

  “Sometimes I like it, sometimes I don’t.”

  “Never heard of that. Most people are addicted or they’re not.”

  “There’s something to be said about smoking just for the pleasure of it. What about a nice cigar once in a while, huh?” Yeah, what about it. Or caviar. Champagne at two hundred dollars a bottle. Though Rhyne would never admit it, he was having a hard time getting over his meeting with Vincent. If ever there was a guy who needed to go by “Vinnie,” this was that guy. Even “Bubba” would be more appropriate. What a letdown. Rhyne had finally made it to the top, or at least to the penthouse, and the boss was a redneck? A redneck? How did a guy like that make it?

  Rhyne’s grandmother used to tell him not to judge people by their looks, and Vincent certainly had credibility where money was concerned, but did he even own a suit?

  “You okay?” Mason asked.

  “Before long, we’ll have more money than we know what to do with.” Rhyne said, avoiding the question. He went to the window. “Then I can move out of this neighborhood. That lady over there drives me nuts.”

  “You’re always standing at your window worrying about her. She’s a little old lady. Smile and wave, and she’ll be off your back.”

  Rhyne turned to him. “Don’t smile. And don’t wave. I don’t want to give her any reason to come near this house.”

  “Fine. Whatever you say.”

  “We can’t afford to screw this up. We’re playing with the big dogs now.” More of a mutt than a purebred, but a mutt with money.

  “So you say.”

  “I’m practically carrying you to the pot of gold. If you want to settle for plain old pot, be my guest. But let me know now, because we’re getting ready to sink deep into this thing and I have to know if you’re with me or not.”

/>   Mason put out his cigarette. “They’re using us.”

  “We’re using them,” Rhyne said with a smile. “We’re using them to get out of a business that’s saturated. Body shops don’t need any more parts. You can strip a car down to its frame and you might get five hundred bucks off of it.”

  “Maybe you just don’t know where to look.”

  “Trust me,” Rhyne said. “I know where to look. There’s nothing new under the sun.” He turned to Mason. “So are you in or not? If you’re in, you gotta stop hanging out with people who don’t understand big business. We gotta cut old ties. Carefully. But we gotta cut them.” Rhyne sighed. He wasn’t sure if Mason understood the scope of his plan, but Rhyne could work that to his advantage. “Just promise me.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I promise.”

  Rhyne walked to his back door and stepped outside for some fresh air. It was time to adjust his thinking. He was a businessman.

  A long, shiny cherrywood table stretched the length of the conference room, void of any personality except for a large vase of fake flowers in the corner and a tidy bookcase at the end. Ron looked at the six men and two women who sat around the table. He knew them all by name, had talked with them many times over the years, but now, in this room, each of their gazes felt as unfamiliar as the room. Ron stood at the end of the table with his hands clasped in front of him, trying to make the best impression he could without the help of a tie or a pocket Bible.

  He glanced at Nan, who sat in the far corner by the flowers. He didn’t bother smiling. He knew she wouldn’t smile back. Or talk to him. The last words she’d spoken to him were, “This has to go through the ministry board.” Lucky for him, they were meeting tonight, and Nan was the official note taker.

  This was Kyle’s baptism into the world of crime. And now, as Ron stood in front of the ministry board, he wondered how he could’ve made it sound more appealing. He did his best to link Kyle’s proposed work in undercover to the Sermon on the Mount, which was difficult for many reasons, not the least of which was that undercover work wasn’t meek, poor in spirit, merciful, peaceful, or pure.

  He had to admit, the explanation did sound a little kooky. It seemed apparent by the bewildered expressions on their faces that nobody in the room suspected Ron’s occupation was anything other than an eight-to-five desk job, which, of course, it had been until a few weeks ago.