When Jake was satisfied he was clean, he headed east on San Vicente Boulevard and took a left at Barrington. He found an open parking spot on the street and threw a couple of quarters in the meter. As he was exiting the car, he glanced over at the outdoor tables of the coffee shop. The only two occupants practically screamed FBI: discount suits, white, button-down collar shirts, and ties that were stylish during the Bush administration—forty-one, not forty-three. He shook his head and walked onto the patio. As he passed the waitress, he ordered the no-frills coffee . . . black and hot.
Before Jake even sat down he took a shot. “Did the Salvation Army have a two-for-one sale on suits?”
Trey Bennett looked at the younger agent. “I told you he was a jerk.”
Jake pulled up a chair and said, “You know this is L.A. You don’t have to wear a suit and tie to every meeting, and I am trying to maintain some type of cover. Why don’t you both get newspapers and cut out eyeholes?”
“Cover? You’ve got to be kidding me. Is your next gig the Grand Ole Opry? In those boots you look like an extra in some low-budget country-western music video. And don’t even talk to me about ties. I’m guessing the only one you own is a bolo.”
Jake laughed. “Bolo, that’s pretty good. Too bad you don’t apply that innovative imagination to your investigations.”
The younger agent wasn’t quite sure how to respond. He wanted to laugh but thought maybe the two were about to go to fist city.
“So why the suits? Was this picture day at the FBI?” asked Jake.
“It was a mandatory all-agents conference with some deputy director from D.C. Apparently you didn’t get the memo,” said Trey, a broad-shouldered former Division I linebacker.
“So what was the meeting about?” asked Jake.
Trey shrugged. “I don’t know. I was finishing up a crossword puzzle and didn’t pay attention.”
“Who’s your date?”
“This is Brian Carter. He graduated from the Academy about six weeks ago and he’s been doing the new agent’s rotation. You know, applicants, fugitives, banks, anything to get his feet wet. He’s now assigned to our squad and I picked him up about an hour ago. As part of his training, he needs to check off a box ‘interacting with a problem child’ and yours was the first name that came to mind.”
Jake reached across the table and the two shook hands. “Welcome to Hollywood. You from around here?”
Brian shook his head. “Upper Michigan, the peninsula.”
“Did you want L.A.?”
“I was hoping for Detroit,” said Brian.
Jake laughed. “Good to know the FBI hasn’t changed the division assignment policy. Name your top choice and they’ll send you to an office within five hundred miles of an airport that can fly you to your preference.” Jake paused briefly. “Where’d you go to school?”
“The Naval Academy.”
“The Boat School,” said Jake. “Did you go blue side?”
“No, I went into the Marines.”
Jake offered a welcoming smile.
Just then the waitress arrived with Jake’s coffee, steam rising. Jake blew on the drink but it was still a minute or two from being consumed. “And your MOS?”
Trey interrupted. “Speak English.”
“I forgot. We are in the presence of a civilian who was a cop in Bumrush, Iowa, before joining the Bureau,” said Jake.
“It was Indianapolis,” said Trey, feigning irritation.
“Special Agent Carter, please tell the Boilermaker from Purdue what your military occupational specialty was,” said Jake.
“I was an 0302.”
“English,” said Trey.
Both Jake and Brian said simultaneously, “Infantry.”
Trey wanted to hurry the conversation. “Enough with the pleasantries; how’d the meeting go?”
“But I need to brag about my illustrious Marine Corps career,” protested Jake mockingly.
“Share your oorahs over another cup of coffee on someone else’s watch,” said Trey.
After signing the chain of custody, Jake turned over the FD-504 ELSUR envelope containing the micro-memory chip. The recording of the meeting with Reid was the first piece of electronic surveillance evidence in this phase of the investigation and the manila envelope held evidentiary gold. Jake then detailed the meeting with the notorious L.A. lawyer. “I’m not one to worry about administrative protocol, but this murder-for-hire case might bring down the rest of our investigation before we’re ready.”
Trey shrugged and threw up his palms in a muted surrender. “I’m not sure there is any way around it. Once Tommy brought up the fact Reid was looking to get somebody clipped, we had to act.”
“Have you explained to Brian what’s happening?” asked Jake.
“You do the honors,” said Trey, gesturing with one hand as if offering the probationary agent entry into a fiery FBI netherworld of unknown dimensions.
The waitress approached and the three men quieted as she refilled the empty cups.
When she left Jake began: “We’re taking a hard look at a Korean crime syndicate that’s been operating in L.A. for years. They’re into drugs and counterfeit goods, mainly cigarettes and name-brand clothing, but they brought in a container of counterfeit watches the other night. We just got started and I’m trying to work my way up the ladder. We began with a guy named Tommy Hwan. He’s a member of the junior varsity but seems to be gaining credibility by bragging about his association with a ‘round-eye who can get things done,’ as he likes to call me. The night before last, he told me an attorney he deals with, a real slime bucket in L.A.’s legal cesspool, H. Daniel Reid, is in need of someone who does contract killings. I sold myself to Tommy in the early run-up as a person willing to do anything for a buck. So today Reid and I had our first kiss.”
Brian sat there without saying a word but smiled with a slight nod.
“We were lucky Tommy solicited Jake and didn’t shop this around,” said Trey.
Jake looked to Brian. “When Tommy approached me I told him I’d give him a third as a finder’s fee so I knew he wasn’t going anywhere else.”
Trey added, “Several agencies have taken a run at these Asian gangs doing cross-border counterfeit imports and haven’t had much success. This seems like our best shot at making a real dent in Koreatown.”
Jake nodded. “We’re just getting started. We’ve got Tommy on importing counterfeit goods. I might be able to get his immediate boss and of course, assuming all goes well, we should nail Reid, but I had high hopes of this thing lasting awhile and taking us all over the map.”
Trey was educating the new agent but also thinking out loud, trying to make the most of the situation. “We take it down when we have to take it down. You never know who is going to roll. Maybe one of these guys can take us even further or in directions we never anticipated.”
Jake turned to Brian as he pointed to Trey. “His beer mug is always half full. I just wanted to stretch it out for months, even years, to avoid going into the office and dealing with the bean counters and feather merchants.”
Trey looked at Brian. “Jake has issues with Bureau administrators. Once you understand that, it’s easy to predict almost any move he makes.” Then looking back at Jake, Trey said, “Getting back to the issue at hand, do you think Reid bought your act?”
“I think so,” said Jake, giving Brian a cherub-like grin. “Most people do.”
“So who does he want hit?”
“His Asian girlfriend, who happens to be carrying his love child. I’ll get as much as I can when I meet him tomorrow afternoon.”
“Are you still meeting with Tommy this afternoon?” asked Trey.
“Yeah, but Reid didn’t want me to say anything to Tommy.”
“Will you?”
“I’ll see how it plays out. It’s more important we keep Tommy in the loop than Reid, so I’ll probably tell him about the meet and explain how his Johnnie Cochran wanted me to keep it a secret.”
“It’s your call,” said Trey.
Jake grabbed the check and threw a couple of dollars on the table. Turning to the new agent, he said, “This isn’t the Marines, Brian. Here’s how it works in the Bureau.”
Trey, now standing, just shook his head as Jake added, “I’ll cover it this time. Now your training agent owes us both a free lunch.”