Monday, the first thing Hauck did was meet with Vern, inform him of the decision he’d come to.
Then he got his crew together.
Everyone had been in kind of a holding pattern since he’d come back from the Pequot Woods. He brought them up to date on Raines. The video he had shown him of Sanger, the false shuffle, along with the inference that Sanger and Kramer were involved in some kind of betting scam. He left out the part about Josie and the photographs.
“So what do you want to do?” Freddy Munoz asked.
Hauck sat on the edge of a desk and looked at him. “I want to get my hands on a copy of those tapes.”
“You think they’re gonna give them up like that? They’re trying to scare you off the case, LT, not make it for you.”
“Tell ’em if they don’t, they’ll be getting a subpoena from the state attorney general.”
Steve Chrisafoulis snickered. “Assuming, of course, no one happens to get to him first.”
There were a few laughs around the room.
Munoz said, “That is the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question, isn’t it, LT?”
“No, the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question is why these people are trying to scare us off.” Hauck turned to Steve. “I want you to pull up everything you can about TRV Gaming and Armbruster.” The parent companies of the Pequot Woods. “I want to know who helped them get the deals and who ushered through their gaming licenses. The board of directors, overseers…I want to know if their paths crossed with anyone who ties in to this case. Sanger, Vega…”
“You got it, boss.”
“And, Steve…” He took the detective aside. “That includes James Sculley and Stan Taylor too.” The detective’s eyes widened. “I want to know what these people are hiding,” Hauck said.
“So, we’re going after them?” Freddy Munoz said. “I mean, just to be clear, LT?”
“Yeah.” Hauck pushed himself off the desk. “We’re going after them, Freddy. To be clear.”
When he got back to his office, the phone was ringing. He glanced out front. His secretary, Brenda, was away from her desk.
He picked it up and held it in the crook of his neck. “Hauck here…”
“Lieutenant, I’m glad I reached you,” a voice said, surprised he had picked up his own phone. “My name is Tom Foley. I’m a managing partner in a company called the Talon Group. You may have heard of it? We’re an international private security firm.”
“I know the Talon Group.” Hauck sat down. They were involved with providing security to the government staff in Iraq. As well as internal corporate security matters. “What can I do for you, Mr. Foley?”
“I have something that may be of interest to you. I was hoping I could buy you lunch.”
“How urgent are we talking?” Talon was big. They advised a lot of companies on the scale of the Pequot Woods. Hauck was wondering how this fit in.
“How does one P.M. work? Today.”