They were heading east on Westchester Parkway. Visibility was less than two car lengths through the murk, and the wipers on the Crown Vic were unable to sweep the ice-cold steam off the glass. All Lena could see through the windshield were the Audi’s taillights burning through the fog, then vanishing again. Rhodes pushed forward, concentrating on the road with both hands on the wheel. Every once in a while he would check the rearview mirror, hold the glance, then look back at the road.
“Who was in the Lincoln?” he said finally.
She turned and noticed that his eyes were fixed on the mirror again. When she gazed out the rear window, she understood why. The Lincoln was behind them, cruising eerily through the night with its headlights off.
“How long have they been back there?” she asked.
“Ever since we left Navy Street. Who’s in the car?”
“Chief Logan,” she said.
Rhodes opened the glove compartment and reached for his emergency pack of cigarettes. When he offered her one, she shook it off and watched him light up.
“Who else?” he asked.
“Somebody I didn’t recognize. Probably another empty suit from Internal Affairs.”
“Anyone else?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Barrera. He’s driving the car.”
It hung there for three or four beats. Out in the open and sharp as broken glass. Rhodes cracked the window, working his smoke and thinking it over.
“And you thought what?” he asked.
“That this is a guerilla war and I can’t tell who my friends are anymore.”
“They don’t call them guerillas these days, Lena. They’re insurgents.”
“Okay, then we’ve got two traitors with a hostage in front of us, and three insurgents behind us. If we try to shake the insurgents off our tail, we lose the traitors and the hostage. Does that sound any better?”
Rhodes looked at her and grinned. “Maybe we’ll get a drink later. Kick back and relax. I know a good bar down this way.”
The taillights broke through the fog bank, too bright and too close. Rhodes slowed down and got rid of the cigarette. They were passing signs for the Hollywood Park Casino and Race Track. The Avenue of Champions was lost in the mist just ahead. Lena suddenly thought she knew where Dobbs and Ragetti were taking Jennifer Bloom. When they made a right turn heading south, it became obvious.
The Cock-a-doodle-do was just two miles down the road.
“You see where they’re going?” she said.
Rhodes nodded. “The parking lot sweeps down from the building and sits against the 105 Freeway. Prairie runs over both. Across the street I remember seeing a vacant lot. I think we should park there and come in from the back on foot.”
Lena agreed. They had just reached the overpass and she could see the neon rooster glowing through the haze. As the building began to break through, she realized that the windows were dark, the parking lot underneath, empty. It was a Thursday night and the place looked like it had been shut down. Rhodes checked the mirror again. When Lena turned, she saw the Lincoln lose air speed and fade back until it disappeared.
Rhodes didn’t say anything, but appeared shaken by the image. Easing into the right lane, he let the Audi pull to the end of the lane divider and made his turn. The empty lot sat beside the building on the corner. Rhodes waited at the curb with the lights out until the Audi made its U-turn and doubled back. Once he saw the car pull into the lot at the Cock-a-doodle-do, he hit the gas and parked behind the building.
Lena climbed out and drew her pistol. Rhodes did the same and they moved swiftly and silently through the vacant lot. The traffic on the freeway was so light, Lena wondered if it hadn’t been shut down. She could see the pillars rising out of the mist at the back of the lot, the Prairie Avenue overpass clutching the clouds and holding them to the ground. As they approached, she saw the vapor in the air wash with bright light and realized that the Audi had driven off the parking lot at the Cock-a-doodle-do and was headed their way. Even worse, she could see a large object beneath the overpass. Something long and dark. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, the shape took on more definition.
Dean Tremell’s limo was parked in the grass beneath the overpass.
She grabbed Rhodes and pulled him behind the first column. Tremell was there with his driver. She could see his son leaning against the hood with Klinger. The fact that it looked like a drug deal seemed only fitting for the CEO of a pharmaceutical company. But Lena knew exactly what was going on. Tremell was buying Jennifer Bloom. And Dobbs and Ragetti were making the delivery. The old man needed to talk to Bloom and find out who she may have spoken with. The interview would occur here because this was where he wanted the body found when he was through.
Lena felt the adrenaline spiking through her chest. She watched Klinger wave the Audi down the hill as he walked back toward the parking lot at the Cock-a-doodle-do. The clouds lit up with the approaching headlights. Lena moved to the other side of the column, watching Dobbs drag Bloom out of the car and throw her onto the ground. Bloom screamed, but it was pointless. And after a short time, she seemed to realize it herself and quieted down.
Ragetti switched off his headlights and the darkness returned. Then he walked over to Dean Tremell and shook his hand.
“Can you hear what they’re saying?” Rhodes whispered.
“No.”
“I don’t see Cava. Where is he?”
“Paradise,” she said.
The two men were walking around the limo. When they reached the trunk, the lid popped up and Lena could see a duffel bag inside. Tremell unzipped it and pulled the bag open. Then Ragetti moved closer and examined the contents. In spite of the distance, in spite of the murk, Lena knew that Ragetti was counting his money. And from the size of the duffel bag, there was a lot to count. But in the end, it didn’t really matter. Nothing did as Lena felt someone press a pistol against the back of her head and the world stopped.
“Breath too hard and you’re both dead.”
It was Klinger’s voice. Soft and low and rising out of the darkness behind them. He must have spotted them early, circling his way back to the Cock-a-doodle-do, crossing Prairie Avenue, and following them into the vacant lot.
“Drop your guns,” he said. “Slow and easy.”
Klinger pushed Lena’s head into the concrete. She met Rhodes’s eyes. When she heard his Glock hit the ground, she dropped her.45. Then Klinger picked them up and jammed them underneath his belt. He raised his gun and took a step back.
“Turn around,” he said.
Lena gave him a hard look. His cheek was still bruised from the beating Rhodes had given him the other night. And he had a crazy glint in his eye-a vicious glow about his face that she had never seen before. Lena realized that his mask was finally off. He was out in the open and all amped up.
“Let’s go,” he said. “Down the hill like Jack and Jill.”
He flicked his gun to the left, clenching his teeth and ushering them toward the limo. Ragetti stopped counting his money. Dobbs pushed Bloom away, switched on a flashlight, and drew his gun. Justin Tremell kept his eyes on his father. And the old man just stood there in the mist with his hands in his pockets.
Lena took it in, then turned to Tremell and sized the man up. It was too fucking late to be scared.
“Buying something?” she asked.
“You might say that, yes.”
“Is it really worth it?”
“With what’s at stake, Detective, I’d call it a bargain.”
She glanced at Dobbs with the girl, then Ragetti with the cash. Two bruisers who couldn’t make the grade.
“These guys are bottom feeders,” she said to Tremell. “How much are you paying them?”
Dobbs laughed. “The cunt’s got a mouth on her, huh.”
“Shut up,” Rhodes said.
Tremell raised his hand for silence and seemed amused. “One million dollars.”
“Tax free?” Lena asked.
He thought it over and grinned. “I guess that’s up to them. They’re freelance.”
Lena looked at Jennifer Bloom, then turned back. “When did you know?”
“When did I know what?” Tremell asked.
“That you killed the wrong one. That you murdered her friend.”
“But I’m a businessman, Detective. I haven’t killed anyone.”
Lena’s eyes flicked across the way and found Justin Tremell in the gloom. He was still staring at his father. From the look on his grizzled face, he didn’t want to be here. She thought about what Cava had told her on the phone. The kid had been used as bait and didn’t know about the murder. But that was more than a week ago and now he did. Now he seemed repulsed by his father’s shadow and wanted out.
Lena turned back to the old man and rephrased the question.
“When did you know who she was?”
“Early,” Tremell said.
“How early?”
“The night you met the reporter at that cafe. Sunday, wasn’t it? Ramira spent the afternoon on the phone. He figured it out. My friends were listening. I’m surprised that he didn’t say anything to you.”
She thought it over. Thought about Denny Ramira, what he knew and the reasons he may have had for not telling her. And she finally understood why they had wired up her house even though she spent so little time there. It was all about who talked to whom. It was all about covering the odds. Everybody’s house had been wired.
Tremell cleared his throat. “I enjoyed our lunch, Detective. You’re an attractive woman. I only wish that you had the brains to go with it. I believe they call it the total package. I wish that you could have seen the situation for what it truly was. I wish that you would’ve agreed to work with us. Believe me, I take no pleasure in what’s about to happen.”
“But you’re wrong, Tremell. I see it exactly the way it is. You kill people, and you’re in it for the money. Little kids or anyone else who gets in your way. You’re no better than any other drug dealer.”
Tremell’s smile faded into a grimace. When he looked past her at Klinger and spoke, his voice shook.
“It’s getting late,” he said. “And we need to finish our business, Ken. Take them up the hill and earn your bonus.” Then he turned to Bloom. “Get in the limo, Jennifer. I’d like to have a word with you.”
Lena felt Klinger jab his gun into her side, and they started walking. Not toward the vacant lot, but underneath the overpass toward the Cock-a-doodle-do. She could see his Caprice on the hilltop. It looked like he wanted to earn his bonus in the parking lot. Like the last thing she would see before she hit the void was that stupid neon rooster glowing in the fog.
She glanced over at Rhodes. Klinger was playing it smart and keeping his distance. They didn’t have a move. Rhodes shrugged his shoulders and shot Klinger a look.
“You’re gonna get an award for this,” he said.
“Shut up, Rhodes. Just keep walking.”
“They’re gonna give you a medal, Klinger. Put your picture in the paper. The caption’s gonna read KEN KLINGER, THE DUMBEST FUCK THERE EVER WAS.”
“You’re making this easy, Rhodes. You’re making it fun. Keep moving.”
Lena didn’t think taunting Klinger would work. He was still keeping his distance and running too hot to make a mistake.
“I don’t get it,” she said to him. “When Dobbs and Ragetti went down, you were still over at Internal Affairs. You made the case against them, Klinger.”
“So what?”
“You ended their careers. You don’t think they want payback?”
He hesitated, but only briefly. “Money changes things,” he said. “It always has.”
“But who’s gonna take the fall for all this? Someone’s got to be held accountable. With Cava gone, you’re the weak link, Klinger. You’re the only one left.”
“Keep your mouths shut. Both of you.”
They had reached the top of the hill. Lena could feel time running out. The dark building across the lot was shimmering in and out of the grim clouds. The neon rooster on the roof, winking at her and waving good-bye.
“This is it,” Klinger said. “Get down on your fucking knees.”
“You sure we’re facing east,” Rhodes said.
“No, you piece of shit. You’re heading south. Now get down on your fucking knees and smile at that fucking chicken over there.”
Lena took a deep breath and lowered herself to the ground. It felt like all the blood had already drained out of her head. Everything was spinning. Everything blurry and slowed down. She glanced over at Rhodes and tried to focus on his face. He was looking back at her. She could see the sweat blistering on his forehead. His nostrils flared. His eyes big and bright and full of life. She could remember what he said in the car. How he tried to make her feel better. Maybe they’d get a drink later. Maybe they’d kick back and relax. He knew a good bar down this way.
And then she heard the sound. The loud hollow crack.