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The electrician was swearing. “Damned fools. They snipped the wires,” he muttered. “Couldn’t they have just flipped the breaker or something? This is going to take longer.”
“How much longer?” Rodriguez asked.
The electrician looked at him, and rightly evaluated how pissed he was. “Not long for a temporary fix,” the electrician assured him. He was rummaging in his toolbox. “But I’ll have to come back and do a more permanent fix later.”
“How long has it been?” Leatherstocking asked.
“An hour,” Rodriguez said grimly.
Leatherstocking stared at him. “Where can we talk?” he asked. “I doubt us hovering over this man’s shoulder will make the work go faster.”
Rodriguez hesitated, then nodded. He leaned even heavier on the cane as they all made their way back to the conference room.
“Are they going to come out of there alive?” Leatherstocking asked bluntly.
Janet’s breath caught.
Rodriguez shrugged. “Who? Mac and Daniel, or the assholes pretending to be prison guards?” He sighed. “Not making light of the situation,” he said. “We’ve got five prisoners trapped in a room with no electricity. That means the locks don’t work, there are no lights — none, not even the floor lights in the aisleway. And the ventilation system is down. Fortunately, it’s nighttime, so it might get stuffy, but it’s not going to be an oven. My guess is that McBride’s men were going to go in and lock it down. The lights come up, they move everyone out. Mac and Daniel get separated, tossed into general population. Mac thought the fix would be in, and someone would come for them there.”
Janet visualized it. “That would require someone out here to back the play and move all the prisoners — including the two guards — out.”
Rodriguez nodded. “And I think there was someone,” he agreed. “Until I got here. And the jig was up. Whoever it was, maybe even McBride, faded away, leaving those two guards in there holding the bag. They’re now trapped as much as the prisoners are, and dependent upon us getting them out.”
Stan was furious, Janet knew. “I’ve had enough, Lieutenant,” he said. “This makes it obvious that the SPD cannot provide a safe environment to hold material witnesses in a major corruption investigation. I’m requesting that the FBI be allowed to take these two into custody and provide the needed security.”
Leatherstocking was scribbling something down on a yellow legal pad. He handed it first to Stan, who read it, nodded, and scrawled his signature across it with a date. He shoved it over to Rodriguez. Rodriguez read it. “I’m not disagreeing,” he said carefully. “But I don’t have the authority needed to sign off on this.”
“Who does?” Janet asked after she leaned over and read the proposed memorandum of understanding. It was pretty much exactly what Stan had just said. “Well? Who can sign it, Nick?”
“The Police Chief? Head of Corrections? King County Sheriff? Maybe the ADA in charge of the criminal cases?” Rodriguez shook his head. “That’s the problem really — why we couldn’t do it earlier tonight. Not officially — and it had to be official once McBride showed up. Neither Lorde nor I could figure out how to get it approved.”
Leatherstocking shrugged. “Release them then,” he said. “Boot them out on the street. You’ve got my client’s cellphone, right? Release them on a PR.”
Rodriguez looked skeptical. “They’d been sitting ducks in a shooting gallery if we did.”
“Nick, they are now,” Stan said gently.
Nick blew out a long breath. He nodded. “You got a plan?”
Stan shrugged. “We’ll scoop up Daniel as a witness in the Burmese spy case,” he said.
“Just Daniel? Not Mac?”
Stan’s smile was almost feral. “Him? I want Mac on the loose.”
The same woman jailer stuck her head back in the room. “Electrician is ready to reboot the lights,” she said. “I told him to wait until you were out here, Nick. We might need to give some thought to how we do this.”
Nick winced. “Good idea,” he said. “Bring up the monitors, make an announcement. Lock the cell doors. Have guards we trust ready to go in. Unlock the exit doors. Bring up the aisle lights. Go in.”
The woman considered that. “You going in?” she asked.
Rodriguez chewed on his lip. “Am I really the senior officer here?”
She nodded. “I’ve got calls out. But the shift commander is happy to defer to you.”
“I bet he is,” Rodriguez muttered. “Fine. Agent Warren? Will you accompany me and begin a federal investigation of this security failure?”
Stan nodded. The woman — Janet wanted to know her name — looked at her. “Come with me,” she said. “You can watch on the monitors.” She glanced at Leatherstocking. “You too.”
No love lost there, Janet thought with amusement. Didn’t look like it bothered the attorney much. The two of them followed the woman into the bullpen.
Well, that couldn’t be its formal name, Janet conceded. It was the room behind the area where prisoners were brought and checked in. It was crowded right now, as anyone who could manufacture a reason to be here was inside it, waiting for the bank of monitors to come alive.
This was a small wing of the larger corrections building. There were three sets of six cells used mostly as a drunk tank. And the other two cell blocks appeared to have a lot of noisy drunks — all men. She wondered what they did with women, then set that question aside. As she understood it, they were waiting for arraignment in the morning. Or even until Monday morning. Some she thought would probably just be released when they sobered up.
But they’d had Officer Benson to deal with. And he’s a cop. So they put him in the nearly empty block. After Rodriguez and Lorde had done an initial interview with Daniel, they’d taken him into custody as a material witness, and brought him and Mac over — protective custody.
Janet wondered how much McBride actually knew about what Daniel Garvey had to offer Internal Affairs. Had he known Daniel saved the photos of all the IDs he’d sent McBride? And they’d have the texting records too. McBride was truly screwed.
And then there was McBride’s botched assassination attempt. She still had a hard time reconciling the Burmese diplomats/drug suppliers with wanting Mac dead. She thought about that for a moment, and it hit her. McBride had tried to double dip. She thought the ride-along for a look-away deal would have been all the Burmese had needed.
We got it backwards, she thought. The Burmese asked for a look-away, and then when McBride said Friday he’s got a ride along with us, they scheduled the attempt to grab Maiah. That had been convenient, but McBride could easily have offered up something to keep Mac from being able to answer a call from Naomi. But she had gotten the impression from what the drug supplier had told Mac in the early morning break-in, that they wanted him out of the picture, not harmed.
McBride had seen an opportunity to get rid of Mac and it could be blamed on dueling drug suppliers. Still he’d been talking about a lot of money. More than a couple of drug suppliers were going to offer good money for a look-away gig.
“OK, we’re ready to go,” the woman said. Janet glanced at her name tag. Sgt. I. Bhatia.
The room fell quiet as the monitors came to life. Six cell monitors, two in the aisle, and an extra one aimed at the exit. The rooms were still dark.
“This is Sgt. Bhatia,” she said through a microphone. “We have solved the electrical problem. We want everyone to sit on a lower bunk, hands resting on your knees. Officers? This includes you, if you would. Either sit on a bunk in an empty cell, or on the floor in the aisle. This is for your protection as we send in guards to secure the block. We’re going to lock cell doors and raise the aisle lights. Guards will enter at that point. They are authorized to use force if necessary.”
Janet didn’t like the sound of that — she hoped the guards going in with Nick and Stan were as trustworthy as Nick thought they were. She looked at Leatherstocking. He was grim.
Bhatia nodded to someone at a control panel. Janet watched the screens anxiously.
When the low lights came on, Janet searched the screens for Mac.
There. She’d know that stubborn focused posture anywhere. He was alive. Pissed, she thought. But alive. She felt almost light-headed with relief.
“What the hell?” someone muttered. Sgt. Bhatia glared, and he subsided.
Janet searched the monitors for what had prompted that. She counted heads. Three in one cell. Weren’t there supposed to be no more than two? Mac was facing someone in his cell. Daniel? Two cells with one person each. Were they missing someone? She counted — no, there were seven people. That was right. It was the configuration that was weird. What had gone on in there?
What the hell was right.
“Does he have a weapon’s belt?” the guy muttered again, ignoring Bhatia’s glare this time.
“Two of them,” someone said, and it sounded like he was strangling a laugh.
Obviously they were better at seeing what was going on than she was.
“Coming in,” Bhatia announced over her microphone. No one moved on the screens.
Janet frowned. She glanced at Leatherstocking, who also looked like he was trying not to laugh. She could swear Mac had a gun in his hands.
And then the screens became difficult to interpret as Nick, Stan and four guards entered the aisleway. Nick was easy to track with his cane and limp. And Stan appeared to be the only Black man among them — and he wasn’t in uniform.
“All right,” Nick’s voice came in over the monitors. “Sgt. Bhatia, can you open the exit doors. We’re bringing out Davis and Garvey first. Please notify their attorney to meet them in the conference room.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, with a glance at Leatherstocking. He nodded and walked back through the intake area to the hallway. Janet hesitated between wanting to watch what was going on and checking on Mac.
Mac won, but just barely. She followed Leatherstocking back to the conference room.
***
When the voice came over the monitor, Mac wanted to scream at them: What took you so fucking long?
He didn’t, of course. He sat quietly on his bunk in his cell. Well, he did put the gun he’d been holding on Peter Donovan back into its holster. It seemed the smart thing to do.
He was so freaking tired.
The locks clicked. Then the aisleway lights came on, and he could now see Donovan’s livid face. He looked like he was ready to lunge at Mac. Mac shook his head in caution.
“Mac?” Daniel said quietly from across the aisle.
“It’s OK,” Mac assured him. “These are the good guys.” He hoped that was right.
In the low light, Mac could see Daniel slide out from under the bed and sit on the bunk. “Good,” he approved.
The exit door opened, and then there were too many people in the block. Mac tensed, but he forced himself to sit quietly.
“Davis, Garvey,” Nick Rodriguez said, looking at Mac. “We’re going to take you two out first. Your attorney is waiting for you.” Then he frowned. “That’s not Garvey. Where is he?”
“I’m here, sir,” Daniel said. Rodriguez glanced his way.
“I’m sure the explanation for this will be entertaining,” Rodriguez said dryly. Then he saw what Mac had draped across his lap and his eyes widened. “Perhaps that explanation needs to happen now, Mac?”
Mac shrugged. He grabbed the two weapons belts and moved toward the door. Stan Warren opened it for him, and Mac handed him the belts. “I don’t think the two fake guards thought they would be in here this long,” Mac explained. “They weren’t handling it well. Threatened to shoot the latch off of a door. So I thought we would all be safer if they didn’t have those weapons.”
There was silence. Mac squinted at Rodriguez, trying to read him. “I’ve been without sleep for more than 24 hours,” he said, and tried not to whine. “I’ve had my house burglarized, made deadline, did a ride-along that resulted in a cop threatening to kill me, and got shot at by a sniper and hung out in the drunk tank at the SPD. All I want is sleep. But these guys — and that’s Peter Donovan, who is facing criminal charges for last fall, by the way — were threatening me. Can I go now?”
Mac saw Stan suck on his cheek to not laugh, then scowled at him.
“Yes,” Rodriguez said. He nodded to two of the guards. “They’ll escort you to Leatherstocking — and to Janet. We’ve got discharge papers prepared for the two of you.”
There was something wrong about that, but Mac was too blasted tired to think of it. But if Leatherstocking and Janet were here, they’d do the thinking for him. He nodded and fell in behind the lead guard with Daniel. The other guard followed behind him.
And in the back, he heard Benson’s wild laughter. That cop had a weird sense of humor, Mac decided.
Once in the conference room, Leatherstocking started to explain something, but Mac just closed his eyes and tipped his head back. “Mac, you need to listen,” Leatherstocking said.
“I need some sleep, Michael,” Mac replied, without opening his eyes. “Tell me you have a safe place for Daniel to go, and that I can go home and sleep. And then I’ve got a story to report.”
“About that,” Janet began. “I don’t think the drug suppliers paid for your death — I think they just wanted you out of the way, and the ride-along suited them. So they scheduled their attempt to grab Maiah. But someone forked over a lot of money from the sound of things. Someone McBride doesn’t want to piss off.”
“Well, he’d probably kill me for free,” Mac said, considering it. “But you’re right about the drug suppliers. They seemed to be trying to avoid my involvement when they broke into my place to talk to me. So McBride saw an opportunity to get rid of me, and set them up to be the fall guy?”
Janet nodded. “And went to someone with deep pockets. Someone who isn’t going to be happy with him. He’s botched three attempts tonight. But you need to find out who that is.”
“I know who it is,” Mac said. “Well, I know....” He sighed. “Did we ever get to the bottom of who was running that Police Defense Fund?”
“Got through a couple of layers,” Janet answered. “But I think we dead-ended in another LLC. You think he went there.”
Mac nodded. “That’s the cash cow.”
“Interesting,” Janet said. “I’ll have Yesinia take another stab at it.”
“Have her give me a call,” Leatherstocking said. “A pro bono consult.”
Mac arched his brows in surprise. “Wow. Pro bono, even?”
The attorney grunted. “Don’t wait for it to happen a second time.” He looked at Daniel Garvey. “The Seattle Examiner has hired me to represent you,” he said. “They’re labeling you a confidential source. Well, Janet is. Normally, you wouldn’t be able to afford me.” He said it matter-of-factly. “Right now, I’m just overseeing your release from custody here. The FBI is offering protective custody because your situation intersects with a spy ring they’re investigating. I suggest you take them up on it.”
“Who?” Daniel asked.
“I believe Stan intends for Rand to be your primary security,” Janet said. “You met him, right?”
He nodded, then looked at Mac. “This is what you wanted in the first place, right?”
Mac nodded, his eyes drooping again. “Yeah, before McBride showed up and backed Lorde into a corner, and we ended up down here. Rand is a good man. He saved my life a time or two. He’ll take care of you.”
Daniel nodded. “This isn’t going to be over soon, is it.”
Mac shook his head. “No.”
“OK,” Daniel said. “I’ll go with them.”
“Good,” Leatherstocking said. “I always appreciate a client who actually takes my advice.”
Mac snorted. “Am I free to go?”
“Yes,” Leatherstocking said. “But I would appreciate the answer to one question. Did you really take their guns from them? In the dark?”
“They were threatening to shoot the latch!” Mac complained. “In the dark? And in a confined space like that? They shouldn’t have the toys if they can’t play with them responsibly.”
Janet and Leatherstocking were both staring at him dumbfounded. “What?” he said irritably. “They stabbed my pillow thinking it was me. Same with Daniel’s pillow. Not the brightest bulbs in the box — Donovan was one of them, Janet. I think the other one was Mason, but I didn’t get a good look at him in the light. I think the third of the Three Stooges was out here, and he abandoned them.”
Janet nodded. “One of the women guards called Rodriguez. He showed up, about the time the more permanent lights out happened. We think that the third man walked out when he saw him.”
Mac nodded. He tried to think. His car was at the Fairchild’s. “I need a ride home,” he said.
Leatherstocking stood up. “I’ll take you home. Daniel, you need to wait here for Agent Warren. Janet will stay with you. I’m sure she’ll have questions she’d like you to answer. Janet? Can I trust you to know which answers should be off the record? Because I’m fairly certain Mr. Garvey has no clue.”
Janet snorted. “Yes, I’ll look after him,” she said. “I’ll even let you see a transcript of my interview and will consider any concerns you might have. And don’t think that will happen again either.”
“No,” Leatherstocking agreed. “Surprised it will happen this time.”
Janet looked Daniel over. Then met Leatherstocking’s eyes. “You will need to be there when Lorde and Rodriguez have a go.”
“Don’t try teaching your grandma to suck eggs,” Leatherstocking said.
“I have never understood that saying,” Mac muttered as he followed Leatherstocking out of the room.
Leatherstocking chuckled. “And I’m not going to try to explain it now. But I do have to say you’re entertaining when you’re sleep deprived.”
“So my squad used to say. Right before I tore up the bar.”
There was a pause. “OK, Marine,” Leatherstocking said. “Let’s get you home.”
Mac had Leatherstocking let him out at the back gate and waved off his offer to come in with him. He couldn’t think of anyone he would rather have on his side in a legal fight, but he doubted the attorney would be much use in a brawl with more burglars. He managed not to blurt that out.
Leatherstocking was laughing and shaking his head as he pulled away. Mac ignored him. His bed was within calling distance. Didn’t mean he wasn’t going to take natural security precautions, however.
His approach to the house was quiet. There was a small lockbox right inside the back door. Mac opened the door, punched in the code to open the box, and took out the snub-nosed Ruger 38 Special. He’d swapped out a lot of his backup weapons around the house for lighter pistols with grips suited to Angie’s smaller hands. It didn’t matter to him, but it might make a life-or-death difference for Angie.
Gun in hand, he padded into the living room to check the front door. He flipped on the lights and stared.
Someone had vandalized the place. They’d managed to pop open the front door in spite of the chair-under-the-door-handle trick and trashed some furniture. Worst of all, they’d spray-painted a message across the wall, ruining some of Angie’s photographs, slashing some others.
We will destroy you just as easy as we destroyed this.
Mac felt the rage he kept under tight control burst free. No, he thought. I will destroy you. Whatever it takes. I will end you.
He checked the first floor of the house carefully, but there was no one inside. He tested the spray paint. It was dry. Probably at least an hour old, Mac thought. He’d piece together a timeline later. He pulled out his phone and sent Angie a message to wait for him at the Fairchild House: I’m out of lockup, but I need sleep. And I need to know you’re safe. Stay there please? Rand will see to your safety. Give me four hours and see if Naomi will feed me lunch when I wake up.
He didn’t wait for a response. Gun in hand, he went up the stairs, and then checked that floor as well. No one. He hadn’t expected there would be. He took a shower to wash off the jail stench, and he’d fight anyone who tried to say there wasn’t one. Setting his phone alarm, he crawled into bed, and fell asleep, with his hand on the pistol tucked under his pillow.