Isabel's Run (32 page)

I looked at Toni. She was smiling.

“That’s outstanding,” I said. “When do we move?”

“Well,” Nancy said, “that’s the problem. We can’t move until tomorrow around noon.”

“Why?” I asked. I didn’t want Isabel or Kelli to be with these guys even one more minute.

“I don’t know if it’s SWAT or what it is,” she said. “I think it’s probably just too late in the day. I do know we have to bring in our narcotics and gang units. My captain made a couple of calls—but he just called me back and said it’s going to be tomorrow. So that means . . .”

“That means it’s going to be tomorrow,” I said. “I spent almost eight years in the military. I know how it works.”

“Good. Why don’t you two come on in to my office at ten tomorrow morning. We’re setting up a planning meeting then. We can use your information.”

“We’ll be there,” I said.

I put in a quick call to Doc. He’d been in the parking lot for a couple of hours with no sign of Donnie Martin, Crystal, or Kelli.

* * * *

Toni called her mom and explained what was going on while I started working on dinner. Actually, first I worked on pouring us each an African Amber from my growler. The jug was starting to feel a little light—I could see another trip to the Mac & Jack’s Brewery in Redmond for a refill in my near future.

While Toni was on the phone, I went out onto the balcony. Outside on a mid-June night in Seattle at 6:15 p.m. and it was still broad daylight. I pulled up a chair and watched the boats on the lake while I slowly sipped my beer. It had been a long day, starting with our hunt at the mall. I’d have liked to have found Kelli today and gotten her home safe and sound, but the reality was, her plan was working—I hoped she was being wined and dined by Donnie Martin right now. Unfortunately, I was pretty sure she hadn’t stopped to consider that the chances of her (the new girl) being exposed to Isabel (the misbehaving girl) were slim to none. At this moment, Kelli was one of the girls Martin was trying to impress. He’d have no reason to show her the dungeon—might scare her before he could get his hooks in her. He needed her to see a good life so that he could guide her willingly into prostitution. I shuddered and took a long draw on my beer.

Anyway, I was sure that Kelli hadn’t thought that far ahead. For her plan to work, she’d have to go deeper undercover than she’d probably considered—certainly deeper than she’d be willing to go. She’d have to get deep enough inside to be allowed access to inside secrets in the same manner Paola had been. But there was only one way to get in that deep, and Paola had paid dearly for the privilege—it cost her four years on the street.

All this said, I felt pretty comfortable that Kelli was okay through tonight—it didn’t seem to be Martin’s MO to start pressuring new girls on the first night. He seemed to have more of a drawn-out game plan. Hopefully, he’d stick to it. Tomorrow, before it progressed any further, we’d bust his ass and get back both girls.

A few minutes later, Toni joined me just as the phone rang. Caller ID: Doc.

“Doc,” I said. As soon as I said it, Toni froze.

“She’s here. They all just drove up—Martin, Crystal, and Kelli.”

Toni watched me carefully. “Hold on, Doc,” I said. “I’m going to switch you over to speaker.” I tapped the little menu button on my cell phone.

“You there?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“Doc,” Toni said, “does she look okay?”

“Yeah. They’re inside now. She looked fine. They were all laughing and smiling.”

“Good,” I said. “That’s a bit of a relief.”

“Danny,” Doc said. “My car is the only one in the parking lot here. I’m a little conspicuous. I think I gotta bail or I’m going to run the risk of getting made.”

“Go home,” Toni said.

I looked at her. “Do you want to go over and pick up coverage?” I asked. “We can swing by and pick up the Winnebago.”

Toni shook her head. “The motor home’s already been there for a couple of days. They might make that, as well,” she paused. “I hate to say it, but I’m comfortable that Kelli will be fine tonight. I actually think our risk is lower if Doc leaves than if he or we stay on for surveillance. Tomorrow morning, we’re going to bust them all anyway.”

“We can pick up coverage tomorrow morning,” I said. “Doc, why don’t you swing by and pick up the white van. You watch the Fortieth street house starting at nine or so. I don’t think those guys get moving much before that. Have Kenny take the green van and do the same thing on the girls’ house. We’ll have you guys stay there right through the raid on the boys’ house.”

“Got it,” he said. “See you tomorrow.”

I turned to Toni. “That work for you?”

She nodded. “It’s the best we can do. Of course, I’d like to bust her out of there tonight. But if we did that, we might not ever get Isabel.” She was quiet for a second. “We’re okay waiting.”

“I think you’re right. How’s your mom?” I asked.

She smiled. “She’s good. She cheered me up.”

I smiled. “
She
cheered
you
up? I thought
you
were supposed to be the one cheering
her
up.”

Toni set her beer down. “Yeah, really. But I feel responsible for Kelli being where she is.”

“That’s silly,” I said. “You’re not responsible. It’s like you said in the office this morning—if anyone’s responsible, Kelli is.”

She nodded. “I know. That’s what Mom said, too. Still.”

“If it all goes according to plan,” I said, “Kelli’s probably going to get something like the royal treatment tonight. Wined and dined. Good meal. No pressure. Crystal’s probably already talking about taking her clothes shopping in the morning. Then,
pow!
Before anything else happens, we bust them, and she comes home.”

Toni nodded. “From your lips,” she said. She held up her beer, and we clinked glasses.

“Damn straight.”

Hold on, Kelli,
I thought to myself.
We’re coming.

THE NEXT MORNING at ten o’clock sharp, we walked out of the elevator and into the tenth floor lobby of the Seattle Criminal Justice Center. Mickey Cole and Javier Martinez were already there, talking to each other while they waited for Nancy. When we stepped out, Mickey saw me. He nodded. “Hey, guys,” he said.

We walked over. “Good morning.”

“How are you two this fine morning?” he asked. “All ready to go?”

I nodded. “You bet.” I looked the two of them over. Instead of the grubby jeans and T-shirts they’d been wearing when we met two days ago, today they were both dressed in tactical clothing, right down to black boots. “You know, you didn’t have to get all dressed up for us,” I said.

Mickey smiled. “No shit,” he said. “So much for casual Fridays, right?”

I gave him another look over. “Looks pretty tight to me,” I said. “Reminds me of the old days.”

“You guys wore this kind of stuff in Iraq?” Mickey asked.

I nodded. “Yeah, pretty much,” I said. “Different color, but same kind of gear. Course we’d have about forty pounds of shit strapped onto our belt and vest, but same basic idea.”

“Cool,” he said. “One of these days, I want to take you to lunch. I’ve got a bunch of questions about your time in the service—,” he paused and looked at me seriously, “—that is, if you don’t mind talking about it.”

“I don’t mind,” I said. “I don’t usually bring it up, but if someone has questions, I don’t mind answering.”

“That’d be great,” he said.

“Why—you thinking about joining up?”

He laughed. “Who knows, right, Javi?” Both men laughed.

“That’s right,” Javier said. “Depends on how the contract talks between the union and the city go. Right now, they’re still a long way apart. We may need another job.”

“They’d probably be happy to have you,” I said. “How you boys feel about low pay and the desert?”

“No mold, no mildew,” Mickey said. “Sounds cool.”

I laughed. “Cool is one thing it ain’t,” I said. “Think warm, maybe hot. Think—dry.”

“Hot and dry are good,” Mickey said. “We’ll see. Meanwhile . . .”

“Shifting gears—,” Javier said. The two partners were so comfortable with each other, they could finish each other’s sentences.

“Shifting gears,” Mickey continued, “we haven’t been sitting on our asses over the past couple of days. We were able to dig up some more information on Donnie Martin and NSSB.” He paused. “You know, this fucker’s a little scary.” He paused again, “Oops,” he said, turning to Toni. “Pardon my language.”

Toni smiled. “No problem. This guy here—” that would be me, “—talks like that all the time.”

“What makes you say he’s a little scary?” I asked.

At that moment, Nancy Stewart walked out of a door marked Authorized Personnel Only. She held the door open and said, “Good morning, everyone. You guys ready?”

Mickey turned back to me. “I’ll go over it when we’re all together,” he said.

* * * *

We followed Nancy back to a large conference room. Tyrone Allison was already there, along with another man whom I recognized. Captain Gary Radovich headed up the Seattle SWAT unit. He was medium height and solid in build, probably in his mid-fifties. His prematurely silver-white hair was cut in a tight military-buzz style. He saw us enter and immediately stood up. We’d accompanied his team on a SWAT raid on the apartment of a suspected drug cartel member last August. I’m not sure he remembered me, but most people tend to remember Toni. He smiled. “I remember you two from last year,” he said.
Wow. Better memory than I thought.

“Captain Radovich,” Toni said, “It’s good to see you. I didn’t know you’d be leading this raid today.”

“It’s Toni Blair, right?”

She nodded, smiling. “You remembered.”

“Of course,” he said. He turned to me. “And you are . . . ?”

“Danny Logan,” Toni said, filling in his blanks. There. I was right about his memory, after all.

“That’s right,” he said. “Good to see you two again. And to address your point, Ms. Blair, yes, I am heading up the operation today.”

“Wonderful,” Toni said.

Two other men walked into the conference room. Radovich nodded toward them. “Let me introduce these two mean-looking guys,” he said. “Dave Bryant and Lonnie Charles from the narcotics unit. Apologies for their generally unpleasant demeanor. They have to deal with crackheads, tweekers, and various other druggies all day long, and it tends to make them cranky.”

“Very funny,” Bryant said.

The men said their hellos and took their seats.

“Let’s get going, then,” Nancy said. “I’m going to provide a little background for everyone and then Gary, I think you’ve got an operation all planned out?”

He nodded. “I do,” he said.

“Good. So what we’ve got is a house on the western edge of Ravenna Park.” She used a projector to flash an aerial photo of the boys’ house up on the screen. She walked the group through the history of our investigation, including a description of Donnie Martin and DeMichael Hollins.

“I can add a little about Donnie Martin,” Mickey said. “Since we talked to Danny here a couple of days ago, we’ve been doing a little digging.” He turned to Javier and nodded.

“Donnie Martin, as Nancy just explained, is a twenty-two-year-old career criminal. He’s already spent six years of his life locked up in one institution or another, starting when he was eleven years old. He served two different stints at the Green Hill School in Chehalis. And, in case you’re unfamiliar with it, Green Hill is not known for being a college prep school. Martin’s no petty thief—he’s a violent young man. He’s been arrested twice for assault—once when he was sixteen. The second time was two years ago, when he was twenty. He beat another gang member nearly to death with a baseball bat, but the case got dropped when the victim refused to testify—said he tripped going down a flight of stairs. All the other witnesses suddenly developed amnesia and recanted.”

“I can add to that as well,” I said. “In the course of our investigation, we interviewed a friend of Donnie’s family, Reverend Arthur Jenkins. Reverend Art’s the pastor of the Twenty-Third Street Baptist Church over in the Central District—the area where Donnie Martin and DeMichael Hollins grew up. He knows the boys well—in fact, he presided over Donnie’s aunt’s funeral a year ago. He told me that when he tried to talk some sense into Donnie then, Donnie just laughed and wouldn’t have any of it. According to Reverend Art, the word is that Donnie Martin said no way he was going to end up in Walla Walla—he’d rather go out shooting.”

“Great,” Gary said, sarcastically. “Your basic nutcase. I’ll make sure my men are briefed. Thanks for the heads-up.”

I nodded.

“Okay,” he said. “Back to our raid. What do we know about the house?”

“Not too much,” Nancy said. She turned to me. “Danny, you guys staked this house out, right?”

“Not this one,” I said. “The NSSB gang has a total of three houses that we’re aware of. We staked out one of the other ones. But we do have some familiarity with this house.” I squirmed a little as I said this. The police were unaware of my clandestine recon mission the day before yesterday.