GOTU - A Robin Marlette Novel (6 page)

“You got it, Rob.”

“Good. Jack, Burke and I will take the Cessna in. Follow us if you would.” Jack nodded in agreement. Both Robin and Burke Jameson were private pilots.

“Rick, you and Mike take the Blazer to the Sky Harbor office.”

“Ten-Four, Sarge.”

“Chris, are you assuming responsibility for the body?”

“Yeah, and I'm formally taking custody of the Cuban now at least until I'm told otherwise.”

Robin smiled at Chris. Chris wouldn't do that unless he had the whole thing figured out.

“Okay, let's do it, troops,” said Robin. “We'll work out the rest when we get to the office. Now mount up! We're burning daylight!”

FOUR

Robin's squad worked another ten hours before all the loose ends were tied up. The mounds of paperwork he needed to do, when he could hardly keep his eyes open, was the hardest part of deals like this. He fought sleep with gallons of coffee. The coffee itself did not necessarily guarantee he would stay awake, but the fact that he had to urinate every thirty minutes did.

Robin's immediate priority focused on the security of the operation. Within four hours of landing at Sky Harbor, the heads of all the agencies involved ordered the strictest secrecy be maintained on the case. The chain of command became simplified, with Robin in tactical command subject only to the orders of Assistant United States Attorney Jim Adams, who spoke for the joint agency chiefs. For a cop, it doesn't get any better.

The jurisdictional issues worked out well for Robin. DPS assumed lead agency for the investigation. It would be a joint state and federal Organized Crime Drug Enforcement Task Force (OCDETF) prosecution. Because the case involved public corruption, the FBI had primary authority over that aspect federally. U.S. Customs had primary authority over the money smuggling. Although the FBI and Customs could both do the money laundering investigation, Robin all but insisted the IRS do that part of the investigation. They were by far and away the best at it.

At this early stage, Robin thought he had a chance to keep DEA out of the investigation. Robin did not like DEA and DEA did not like Robin because he had kicked them off two prior OCDETF cases for not being willing to do the grunt work. He knew DEA would be snooping around to find out what happened and try to get into the case because it involved Rodriquez-Lara's cartel.

Robin's thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the phone. When he answered it, Emmett's happy deep voice greeted him.

“Hey, Boss, you still awake?”

“Yeah, how 'bout you, cowboy?”

“Shit, Rob, what this guy has told us will keep us all awake for a long time.”

“Good stuff, huh?”

“Sarge, this is going to be the biggest case we ever dreamed of doing. This guy is going to do some very big assholes.”

“Okay, Emmett. I should be there in about an hour.”

“No hurry, Sarge. We're comfortable.”

“See ya.”

“Bye.”

Emmett's phone call reminded Robin he needed to get some relief troops to watch Newman.
Time to call the crazies of Victor Thirty-Two squad.
Robin picked up the phone and punched squad Sergeant Ernie Jackson's home number. The phone rang.

“Jackson residence, Judy speaking.”

“Hi, Judy. This is Uncle Rob. Is your Dad home?”

“Hi, Uncle Rob. Dad's home. I'll get him.”

“Thanks, Judy.”

A few seconds later, Ernie came on the phone. “Yo, Rob! What's up?”

“I need help, Ernie.”

“Will it be worth my while?”

“Well, asshole, since Sunday is your day off, you'll at least get overtime.”

“Good point! When and where?”

“I need you and two of your guys at our hideout as soon as you can.”

“Okay, but just tell me this. Is this another one of your wild-assed marathon shit storms?”

“It looks like it.”

Robin could hear Ernie take a deep breath. “Goddamn, Marlette. I don't know why I let you get me into these things.”

“You do it because you're a hard chargin,' raggedy ass street cop like me, Ernie. So quit fuckin' around and get moving.”

“Okay, dickhead. We'll see you in about an hour or so.”

“Good. Adios.”

“Bye.”

Robin finished his paperwork and walked out to the undercover van the department issued him, a new 1988 tan one-ton Chevrolet complete with built-in surveillance equipment and gear lockers built to Robin's specifications. Ten minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot of the Casablanca Motel. The owner of the Casablanca let the Guardians have two adjoining rooms for free. At one time, the owner's daughter became hooked on cocaine. The Guardians put her dealer in prison for fifteen years.

Robin went to room 268 and knocked twice, paused, and knocked once. Emmett answered the door, his muscular six-four frame filling the opening.

“Where is Newman?” Robin asked.

“He's asleep.”

“Jackson and two of his guys are on the way to relieve you.”

“Sounds good.”

Robin looked over at John Lucheck, sound asleep in a chair.

“He tried to stay awake,” shrugged Emmett, “but he just couldn't overcome his federal training.”

“He'll be all right,” chuckled Robin.

Emmett walked over to the small refrigerator in the room and took out two beers. He tossed one over to Robin. Emmett lifted his can as a toast and said, “To celebrate the start of a great case.” Robin lifted his can and took a swallow of the cold beer. He pulled out his .45 and laid it on the table. When he wore street clothes, as he did now, he carried his gun in a Bruce Nelson Summer Special holster worn inside his pants. Taking the gun out eased the pressure around his waist. Robin sat down in one chair and propped his feet up on another. He could feel the tension leaving his body.

The two men sat at the table and discussed the general strategy of the new case. Emmett's report of Newman's debriefing impressed Robin. The several people he named were very powerful in politics and business. Newman acted as the bagman for the payoffs to these people. If they could get the additional evidence they needed to make this case airtight, it would be the best case yet.

Although both men were relaxing, they were alert to sounds outside the room, listening for anything out of place. Once, somebody walked by the room and both men silently and swiftly moved into defensive positions. The footsteps stopped momentarily and then moved on. Robin and Emmett sat down again after visually clearing the outside through the windows and the peep hole in the door.

About a half an hour later, they heard more footsteps. Emmett moved behind the wall that separated the bathroom from the main room. Robin stood against the door jam. Both officers had their weapons ready. The confidential knock sounded through the door.

“Yo!” said Robin.

“Yo ho, mate!” Robin looked through the peephole to see Ernie making ridiculous faces on the other side. Robin opened the door to let Ernie in, along with Rocky Barnett and Marv Allen of Ernie's squad. As they walked in, all three men's eyes were sizing up the environment of the motel room. Emmett came from behind the wall, to Rocky's and Marv's nods of approval. Rocky looked at John Lucheck, still fast asleep, and said, “fucking Feds.” He went over and kicked Lucheck on the bottom of his foot.

“Wake up, Special Agent Lucheck, time to go home.” Rocky did not say “Special Agent” with the reverence which some federal officers are fond.

Robin began to brief Ernie Jackson and his two men on the case to date. The men's flashing eyes and broad grins showed their obvious excitement. Good cops always want to get the big fish. Robin's faith in these men as good cops had paid off before. He could see it paying off again.

Necessarily, Ernie Jackson's enthusiasm for the Guardians' new case came from a different perspective than the men of his squad. While assisting the Guardians on a short-term basis did not pose a problem, committing his squad to a long-term investigation did. It took the brass to approve a long-term commitment. Ernie wanted to be on this case, so he had to sell it to his brass. Even though he could see the Guardians latched on to one hell of a case, selling his brass on working with the Guardians would not be easy.

In the past cases when Victor Thirty-Two squad worked with the Guardians, the results were always great. The cases were also laced with controversy, however, and very few high-ranking officers want controversy—especially when the case is initiated by another department. Everybody knew taking down the big fish meant inquiries from political figures. These suspects used the high-powered lawyers and the political connections to cause interference. Since some high-ranking police officers harbored the fragile dream of successfully running for political office after retirement, to them controversy floated like a fart in the car on the first date. So, Ernie had his work cut out for him. As he listened to Robin, he planned his approach to the Phoenix Police brass.

Ernie's and Robin's squads began training together on a regular basis when the Phoenix PD gave Ernie's squad functions similar to Robin's. The men soon became a tight-knit group. Robin and Ernie became close personal friends and did family outings together. Soon the two squads were doing joint investigations with the FBI and U.S. Customs, with the Guardians and Victor Thirty-Two squad forming the core of the investigative team. By the intensity of the fire burning in Robin's eyes this day, Ernie knew the new case looked to be the largest joint investigation yet. When Robin and Emmett finished bringing the Phoenix officers up to date on the case, Rocky let out a low whistle.

“Ol' Miguel is going to be one pissed off son of a bitch.”

“You're right, Rock,” said Robin. “There is no doubt he'll be throwing shit into the game.”

“Fuck Rodriguez,” growled Ernie. “We're all trained on how to handle assholes like him. It's the other targets that are going to make my brass real nervous about letting us get involved in this shindig.”

“Aw, come on, Sarge,” said Marv angrily. “There's no way you can let those bastards keep us out of this case.”

“Whose side are you on?” Ernie asked Marv with a pained voice.

“Marv's right, ya ol' fart,” chided Robin. “You know you can pull it off. You always have before.”

“Yeah, and that's why I've got gray hair and ulcers and you're no help either, asshole,” said Ernie, pointing an accusing finger at Robin.

By now everybody in the room laughed at Ernie's perceived predicament. Ernie looked around and then hung his shaking head in frustrated resignation. This made everyone laugh louder. Robin laughed so hard tears were welling in his eyes. A forceful knock at the door connecting the adjoining room interrupted the laughter. Emmett jumped up and opened the door, revealing a haggard and bleary-eyed Newman standing in his underwear.

“Am I going to get some sleep or are you guys just going to fuck with me?”

“It's okay, buddy,” said Emmett, “You needed to be up to meet these guys anyway.”

Emmett introduced Ernie, Rocky, and Marv to Newman, who acknowledged the introduction with a wave and a grunt.

“Can you guys keep it down so I can get some sleep now?” Newman asked in a surly tone.

“Yeah buddy, hit the rack,” replied Emmett.

Newman turned and shuffled off toward his bed as Emmett closed the door gently behind him.

“Hey, that's some asshole you're givin' us to babysit,” said Rocky.

“Just remember he's on our side for now, Rock,” said Robin.

“I know, I know,” Rocky replied, smiling at Robin as he stood up. He told Ernie he would be right back and walked out the door. Ernie then launched a soliloquy about how Robin and the Phoenix Police brass were giving him ulcers because he was always in the middle of their disputes. Robin just smiled as he stood up and got ready to leave with Emmett and John. Emmett opened the door just as Rocky returned with an innocuous Cordura case everyone knew contained a Heckler & Koch MP5 submachine gun.

“Rocky, I thought you and your Sig .45 could handle anything,” kidded Emmett.

“We can handle any amount of assholes up to ten. After that we require only minimal assistance.”

“Heeeey,” said Marv in a hurt voice.

“Excuse me, Marv. I'm, of course, speaking for my associate also.”

“So you and Marv can only handle ten assholes at once?” Robin asked innocently.

“We are simply trying to be modest,” said Rocky with a sweeping bow.

“Gentlemen, your modesty is overwhelming,” said Robin with a return bow.

Everybody broke out in laughter again. Robin gave an informal salute and closed the door behind the leaving officers.

“Do you think that's really necessary, Rocky?” asked Ernie, pointing to the MP5.

Rocky looked at his sergeant with a serious look. “Maybe not today, Sarge, but as pissed off as Rodriguez is gonna be, it won't be long.”

Ernie took a long, deep breath and nodded.

FIVE

Robin fought to stay awake. The engine and the air conditioner droned hypnotically as he drove through sparse traffic on the freeway. He turned up the police radio so the incessant chatter would annoy him. It didn't work very well. Normally, Robin maintained awareness of his surroundings, but not at this moment.

A constant replay of the recent events streamed through his mind, evoking a rainbow of emotion: the excitement and satisfaction of a good bust, the anticipation of the upcoming investigation, the disquiet of Rodriguez's possible revenge. The stream stopped and Robin's mind focused on Rodriguez. He wondered if Rodriguez knew about his brother yet. Robin mulled over his possible reactions and wondered how he would find out. Who would be the unlucky messenger? Robin didn't doubt Rodriguez could throw some serious shit into the game. “Well, Miguel,” Robin said aloud, “you better make it good, because we're going to take your ass down and take it down hard.” A grim smile formed on Robin's lips.

Robin turned the corner onto his street. It worried him slightly that he did not really remember driving the last couple of miles. He parked his van, turned off the engine, and just sat there for a minute. Exhausted, he opened the door and slowly climbed out. As he started for his front door, a loud, young voice yelled “Dad!” from behind him. Robin turned around and saw his ten-year-old son Eddie rocketing towards him on a bike. When Eddie got close to his father, he slammed on his brakes and skidded to a halt with a giant grin. One look at Eddie positively proved his lineage. It made Robin intensely proud.