x
Just then the car phone rang. ”Goddamn it, Lloyd,” a familiar rough voice said. “What the fuck’s going on with that homicide investigation?” It was the chief. It sounded like he’d been drinking.
”How do you mean, Chief?” Rehn looked at me, and punched the speaker phone button so he could hear.
The chief said: “You guys harassing the Germans? We going have another set of ethic allegations against the department here?”
”No, we won’t,” I said. “Absolutely not. I dunno what you’ve heard….”
”I heard that dumb bitch Ramirez was making insults as usual,” the chief said.
“Well, I wouldn’t say insults, Chief….”
”Look, Lloyd. Don’t shit me. I already reamed out Emmanuel Ramroop for sending Ramirez in the first place. I want that racist turd off the case. We’ve all got to get along with the Germans from now on. It’s the way the world is. You hearing me, Lloyd?”
”Yes, sir.”
”Now about Jake Reynolds’s. You got him with you, is that right?”
”Yes, sir.”
”Why did you drag him into this?”
I thought: why did I drag him in? Emmanuel Ramroop must have decided to say that Rehn was my idea and not his own.”
”I’m sorry,” I said. “But I…”
”I understand,” the chief said. “You probably thought you couldn’t handle the case yourself. Wanted some help. But I’m afraid you brought more trouble than help. Because the Germans don’t like Rehn. And I got to tell you, I go way back with Lloyd. We entered the academy together back in ‘59. He’s always been a loner and a troublemaker. You know, anyone who goes to live in some foreign country, it’s ‘cause he can’t fit in here at. Home. I don’t want him screwing up this investigation now.”
”Chief….”
”This is how I see it,” Jake. You got a homicide here, wrap it up and get it over with. Do it quick and do it neat. I’m looking to you and you alone. You hearing me?”
”Yes, sir.”
”The connection’s good?”
”Yes, sir,” I said.
”Wrap it up, Jake,” the chief said. “I don’t want anybody else calling me on this.”
”Yes, sir.”
”Finish it by tomorrow, latest. That’s it.” And he hung up.
I put the phone back in the cradle.
”Yes,” Rehn said. “I’d say pressure is being applied.”
I drove south on the 405 freeway, toward LAX. It was foggier here. Rehn stared out the window.
“In a German organization, you’d never get a call like that. The chief just hung you out to dry. He takes no responsibility—-it’s all your problem. And he’s blaming you fore the things that have nothing to do with you, like Ramirez, and me.” Rehn shook his head. “The Germans have a saying: fix the problem, not the blame. In American organizations it’s all about who fucked up. Whose head will roll. In German organizations it’s about what’s fucked up, and how to fix it. Nobody gets blamed. Their way is better.”
Rehn was silent, staring out the window. We were driving past Slauson, the Marina freeway a dark curve arcing above us in the fog.
I said, “The chief was in the bag, that’s all.”
”Yes. And uniformed, as usual. But even so, it sounds like we’d better have this case solved before he gets out of bed tomorrow.”
”Can we do that?”
”Yes. If Baumann delivers those nodes.”
The phone rang again. I answered it. It was Baumann. I handed the phone to Rehn. I could hear Baumann faintly through the receiver. He sounded tense, speaking rapidly.
“Guten dag, Herr Rhen? Ist das richtig? Ich habe eine Nachricht von Frau Keri erhalten, aber niemand antwortet."
Rehn cupped his hand over the phone and translated. “He called the security guard by nobody was there.”
"Daraufhin habe ich Kontakt mit dem Rezeptionsbereich aufgenommen und jemanden geschickt, um Ihnen zu helfen, während wir Ihre Lippen überprüft haben."
“Then he called the main security office and asked them to come down with him to check the nodes.”
"Das Geld befindet sich vollständig im Reisekoffer. Selbst wenn es verloren geht oder gestohlen wird, kann es nicht zurückerstattet werden. Es ist alles sehr wichtig.”
“The nodes are all in the recorders. No nodes are missing or switched,” Rehn frowned and replied.
"Nein, das Geld sollte ausgetauscht worden sein. Finde das Geld. Also, keine Sorge, Herr Rehn. Ist das klar?"
“He insists everything in order,” Rehn said. “Finde das Geld." To me, he said, “I told him I wanted the damn nodes.”
"Ich habe doch gesagt, dass alles in Ordnung ist. Warum sind Sie so auf das Geld fixiert?"
“Ich weiß, dass das Geld weg ist." I know more than you think, Mr. Baumann. “ Ich sage es noch einmal, finde das Geld." Rehn banged the phone in the cradle, and sat back snoring angrily. “Bastards! They’re taking the position that there are no missing nodes.”
”What’s that mean?”
”They’ve decided to play hardball.” Rehn stared out the window at the traffic, and tapped his teeth with his finger. “They’d never do it unless they felt they had a strong position. An unassailable position. Which means….”
Rhen drifted off into his private thoughts.; I saw his face intermittently reflected in the glass under passing street lamps.
Finally he said, “No, no, no,” as if he were talking to someone.
”No, what?”
”It can’t be Ramirez.” He shook his head. “Ramirez is too risky—-too many ghosts from the past. And it’s not me, either. I’m old news. So it must be you, Jake.”
I said, “What are you talking about?”
”Something’s happened,” Rehn said, “to make Baumann think he’s got leverage. And I’d guess it’s something to do with you.”
”Me?”
”Yeah. It’s almost certainly something personal. You got any problems in your past?”
”Like what?”
“Any priors, arrests, internal affairs investigations, allegations of questionable conduct like drinking or homosexuality or chasing women? Any drug rehab program, problems with partners, problems with superiors. Anything personal or professional. Anything.”
I shrugged. “Jeez, I don’t think so.”
Rehn just waited, looking at me. Finally he said, “They think they’ve got something, Jake.”
“I’m divorced. I’m a single parent. I got a daughter, Ariel. She’s two years old. Yes….I lead a quiet life. I take care of my kid. I’m responsible.”
“And your wife?”
”My ex-wife is a lawyer in t he D.A.’s office.”
”When did you get divorced?”
”Two years ago.”
”Before the child was born?”
”After.”
”Why did you get divorced?”
”Christ! Why does anybody get divorced.”
Rehn said nothing. “We were only married a year. She was young when we met. Twenty-four. She had these fantasies about things. We met in court. She thought I was a rough, tough detective facing danger every day. She liked that I had a gun. All that. So we had this affair. Then when she got pregnant she didn’t want to have an abortion. She wanted to get married instead. It was some romantic idea she had. She didn’t really think it through, though. But the pregnancy was hard, and it was too late to abort, and pretty soon she decided she didn’t like living with me because my apartment was small, and I didn’t make enough money, and I lived in Culver City, not Brentwood. And by the time the baby was finally born, it was like she was totally disillusioned. She said she’d made a mistake. She wanted to pursue her career. She didn’t want to be a cop’s wife. She didn’t want to be a mom. She said she was sorry, but it was all a mistake. And she left.”
Rehn was listening with eyes closed.
”Yes….”
”I don’t see why all this matters. She left two years ago. And after that, I couldn’t—-I didn’t want to work detective hours anymore, because now I had to raise the kid, so I took the tests and transferred to Special Services, and I worked the press office. No problems there. Everything went fine. Then last year this European liaison job came up, and it paid better. Another couple hundred a month. So I applied for that.”
”Uh-huh.”
”I mean, I can really use the money. I have extra expenses now, like Ariel’s daycare. You know what daycare costs for 2-year-olds? And I have full-time housekeeping, and Jessica doesn’t make her child-support payments more than half the time. She says she can’t manage on her salary, but she just bought a new BMW, so I don’t know. I mean, what am I going to do, take her to court? She works for the fuckin’ D.A.”
Rehn was silent. Up ahead, I saw the airplanes coming down over the freeway. We were approaching the airport.
”Anyway,” I said, “I was glad when the liaison job came along. Because it works out better for the hours, no for the money. And that’s how I got to be here. In this car with you. That’s it.”
”Schutzling,” he said quietly. “We’re in this together. Just tell me. What’s the problem?”
”There is no problem.”
”Schutzling.”
”There isn’t!”
”Schutzling….”
”Hey, Lloyd,” I said, “let me tell you something. When you apply for Special Services liaison, five different committees go over your record. To get a liaison job, you have to be clean. The committees went over my record. And they found nothing substantial.”
Rehn nodded. “But they found something.”
”Christ,” I said, “I was a detective for five years. You can’t work that long without a few complaints. You know that.”
”And what were the complaints against you?”
I shook my head. “Nothing. Little stuff. I arrested a guy my first year, he accused me of excessive force. That charge was dropped after inquiry. I arrested a woman for armed robbery, she claimed a planted a gram on her. Charge dropped; it was her gram. Murder suspect claimed I beat and kicked him during questioning. But other officers were present at all times. A drunken woman on a domestic violence call later claimed I molested her child. She dropped the charge. Teenage gang leader arrested for murder said I made a homosexual pass at him. Charge withdrawn. That’s it.”
If you’re a cop you know that complaints like these are background noise, like traffic on the street. There’s nothing you can do about them. You’re in an adversarial environment, accusing people of crimes all the time. They accuse you back. That’s just the way it works. The department never pays any attention unless there’s a pattern or repetition. If a guy has three or four complaints of undue force over a couple of years, then he gets an inquiry. Or a string of racial complaints, he gets an inquiry. But otherwise, as the assistant chief Tres Brown always says, being a cop is for the thick-skinned.
Rehn didn’t say anything for a long time. He frowned, thinking it over. Finally he said, “What about the divorce? Problems there?”
”Nothing unusual.”
”You and your ex on speaking terms?”
“Yes. We’re okay. Not great, but okay.”
He was still frowning, still looking for something.
”And you left the detective division two years ago?”
”Yes.”
”Why?”
”I already told you.”
”You said that you couldn’t work the hours.”
“That was most of it, yeah.”
”That, and what else?”
I shrugged. “After the divorce, I just didn’t want to work homicide anymore. I felt like—-I don’t know. Disillusioned. I had this little infant and my wife had moved out. She was going on with her life, dating some hotshot attorney. I was left holding the kid. I just felt flat. I didn’t want to be a detective anymore.”
”You seek counseling or therapy at that time?”
”Nope.”
”Trouble with drugs or alcohol?”
”Nope.”
”Other women?”
”Some.”
”During the marriage?”
I hesitated.
”Barendsi? In the mayor’s office?”
”No, that was later.”
”But there was somebody during the marriage.”
”Yes. But she lives in Denver now. Her husband got transferred.”
”She was in the department?”
I shrugged.
Rehn sat back in his seat. “Okay, schutzling,” he said. “If that’s all there is, you’re fine.” He looked at me. “That’s all. But I warn you, I’ve been through this kind of thing before with the Germans. When the Germans play hardball, they can make things unpleasant. Really unpleasant.”
”You trying to scare me?”
”No, just telling you the way things are.”
”Fuck the Germans,” I said. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”
”Fine. Now I think you better call your friends at the network, and tell them we’ll be over, after our next stop.”
A 747 roared low overhead, its landing lights flaring in the fog. It passed the sputtering neon sign that read GIRLS! GIRLS! ALL NUDE! GIRLS! It was around 11:30 when we went inside.
To call the Club El Capitan a strip joint was to flatter it. It was a converted bowling alley with cactus and horses painted on the walls. It seemed smaller than it appeared from the outside. A woman in a silver-tasseled G-string who looked close to forty danced listlessly in the orange light. She seemed as bored as the customers hunched over tiny pink tables. Topless waitresses moved through the smoky air. The tape-recorded music had a loud hiss.
A guy just inside the door said, “Twelve bucks. Two drink minimum.” Rehn flipped his badge. The guy said, “Okay fine.”
Rehn looked around and said, “I didn’t know Germans came here.”
I saw three businessmen in blue suits, sitting at a corner table.
“Hardly ever,” the bouncer said. “They like the Galaxy Strip down down. More glitz, more tits. You ask me, those guys got lost from their tour.”
Rehn nodded. “I’m looking for Ed Bishop.”
”At the bar. Guy with the glasses.”
Ed Bishop was sitting at the bar. His windbreaker covered his SchwarzTech Security uniform. He stared at us dully when we came up and sat beside him.
The bartender came over. Rehn said, “Two Buds.”
”No Bud. Statler okay?”
”Okay.” Rehn flipped his badge.
Bishop shook his head and turned away from us. He looked studiously at the stripper. “I don’t know anything.”
Rehn said, “About what?”
”About anything. I’m just minding my own business. I’m off duty.” He was a little drunk.
Rehn said, “When did you get off duty?”
”I got off early tonight.”
”Why’s that?”
”Stomach trouble. I got an ulcer, it acts up sometimes. So I got off early.”
”What time?”
”I got off at eight-fifteen at the latest.”
”Do you punch a time-clock?”
”No. We don’t do that. No time clock.”
”And who took over for you?”
”I got relieved.”
”By whom?”
”My supervisor.”
”Who’s that?”
”I don’t know him. German guy. Never seen him before.”
”He’s your supervisor and you never saw him before?”
”New guy. German. I don’t know him. What do you want from me, anyway?”
”Just to ask a few questions,” Rehn said.
“I got nothing to hide,” Bishop said.
One of the German men sitting at the table came up to the bar. He stood near us and said to the bartender, “What kind of cigarettes you got?”
”Marlboro,” the bartender said.
”What else?”
”Maybe Dorals. I gotta check. But I know we got Marlboro. You want Marlboro?”
Ed Bishop stared at the German man. The German seemed not to notice him as he stood at the bar.
“American?” the German said. “You got American Lights?”
“No. No American LIghts.”
”Okay then, Marlboro,” the German man said. “Marlboro is okay.” He turned and smiled at us. “Is Marlboro country, ja?”
”It is,” Rehn said.
Bishop picked up his beer and sipped it. We were all silent.
The German man beat the bar with his hands, in time to the music. “You got great place,” he said. “Got lots atmosphere.”
What the hell was he talking about? This place was a dum.
The German slid onto the bar stool next to us. Bishop studied his beer bottle as if he’d never seen one before. He turned it in his hands, making rings on the bar too.
The bartender brought cigarettes, and the German man tossed a five-dollar bill on the table. “Keep the change.” He tore open the pack and took out a cigarette. He smiled at us.
Rehn took out his lighter to light the man’s cigarette. As the man leaned over the flame, he said, "Zu welcher Firma gehst du?"
The man blinked. “Sorry.”
"Verstehst du?” Rehn said. “ Zu welcher Firma gehst du?"
The man smiled, and slipped off the barstool. "Ich muss bald gehen. Entschuldigen Sie mich."He gave a little wave, and he went back to his friends across the room.
"Bis später,” Rehn said. He moved around to sit on the stool where the German man had been sitting.
Bishop said, “What was that all about?”
”I just asked him what company he worked for,” Rehn said. “But he didn’t want to talk. I guess he wanted to get back to his friends.” Rhen ran his hands under the bar, feeling. “Feels clean.” Rehn turned back to Bishop and said, “Now then, Mr. Bishop. You were telling me that a supervisor took over for you. At what time was tht?”
”Eight-fifteen.”
”And you didn’t know him?”
”No.”
”And before that time, while you were on duty, were you taping from the video cameras?”
”Sure. The security office always tapes from the cameras.”
”And did the supervisor remove the nodes?”
”Remove them? I don’t think so. The nodes are still there, as far as I know.” He looked at us in a puzzled way. “You guys interested in the nodes?”
”Yes,” Rehn said.
“Well…I never paid much attention to the nodes. I was interested in the cameras.”
”Why?”
”They were getting the building ready for the big party, and there were lots of last-minute details. But you still had to wonder why they pulled so many security cameras off other parts of the building and put them up on that floor.”
I said, “They what?”
“Those cameras weren’t on the 46th floor yesterday morning,” Bishop said. “They were scattered around the building. Somebody moved them during the day. They’re easy to move, you know.”
“No, we don’t know. Explain.”
"The technology behind these cameras is truly fantastic. They’re designed to be easily moved from place to place virtually undetected, blending seamlessly into their surroundings. These aren’t your run-of-the-mill surveillance cameras. They transmit data using a high-frequency bandwidth, way beyond what typical consumer devices use, ensuring a clear, uninterrupted signal even in densely populated areas. They can see anything, even in low light conditions, thanks to their advanced night vision capabilities. The resolution is so high that they can pick up the smallest details from significant distances. The fact that they can be operated remotely means they can be adjusted and focused without anyone noticing." Bishop shook his head, a hint of incredulity in his voice. "I’m honestly shocked you didn’t know that. This level of surveillance tech is cutting-edge, and it’s surprising to think that detectives in a city like this wouldn't be aware of such advancements. It’s like something out of a spy movie, but it’s very real and very effective."
"The media is too obsessed with the latest celebrity meltdown to keep us informed about real issues,” I said.
“I’m sorry you weren’t told about it. It’s one of the features of the building they’re most proud of.” Bishop drank his beeer.
”Only question i have is why somebody would take five cameras and install them on the floor above the party. ‘Cause there’s no security reason. You can lock off the elevators above a certain floor. So for security, you’d want your cameras on t he floors below the party. Not above.”
”But the elevators weren’t locked off.”
”No. I thought that was kinda unusual, myself.” He looked at the Germans across the room. “I gotta be going soon,” he said.
”Well,” Rehn said. “You’ve been very helpful, Mr. Bishop. We may want to question you again.”
”I’ll write down my phone number for you,” Bishop said, scribbling on a bar napkin.
”And your address?”
”Yeah, right. But actually, I’m going out of town for a few days. My mom’s been feeling sick, and she asked me to take her down there to Mexico for a few days. Probably go this weekend.”
”Long trip?”
”Week or so. I got vacation days coming up, it seems like a good time to take it.”
”Sure,” Rehn said. “I can see how it would. Thanks again for your help.” He shook hands with Bishop, and punched him lightly on the shoulder. “And you take care of your health.”
”Will do.”
”Quite drinking and have a safe drive home.” He paused. “Or wherever you may decide to go tonight, instead.”
Bishop nodded. “Hey, not a bad idea.”
”I know I”m right.”
Bishop shook my hand. Rehn was heading out the door.
Bishop said, “I don’t know why you guys are bothering.”
”With the nodes?”
Bishop leaned back in his chair, a skeptical look on his face. "With the Germans, I mean." he said, shaking his head. "Since the end of World War II, they've become incredibly dangerous. It's not the same kind of threat the Nazis posed; it’s more insidious, more pervasive. They’ve got their hands in everything, from technology to politics. I’d bet there are more Washington politicians in their pockets than we’d like to admit."
He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "You think America could beat them today? Not a chance. They’ve played the long game, and they've played it well. The two of you don’t stand a chance against their kind of power. Are they evil? Absolutely. But it’s a sophisticated kind of evil, one that’s wrapped up in legitimacy and influence. Their reach is global, and their grip is like a vice."
Bishop’s eyes darkened as he continued. "Their evil isn’t just powerful; it’s almost untouchable. They control the narrative, the economy, and even our political landscape. You think you can take them down? They’ll crush you before you even get close. This isn’t a fight you can win, and honestly, I’m not sure anyone can.”114Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVfnC0E9nKM
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Outside, beneath the crackling neon sign, Rehn said, “C’mon, time is wasting.”
We got in the car. He handed me the bar napkin. On it was scrawled in black letters: THEY STOLE THE NODES.
”Let’s roll,” Rehn said.
I started the car.
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