Counterfeit Lies

CHAPTER EIGHT

Jake looked at his reflection in the car window, ran his fingers through his hair, pronounced himself fit for the role, and proceeded to the pier. With a few well-chosen admissions by H. Daniel Reid, Jake would be ridding the legal establishment of one more bottom-feeder.

The bright orange midmorning Los Angeles sun was beating on his back as he headed west on the Santa Monica Pier. His focus was on the moment. Reid might only be a lawyer but he could still be dangerous. He could panic and do something really stupid. Even one night in jail is more than most can take, and the thought of a perp walk on the six o’clock news can send the most genteel over the edge.

The waves were blasting ashore, breaking in rapid succession. The morning surfers rushed to the water, seeking the perfect ride. Joggers ran up and down the beach as the tides washed away any evidence of their physical efforts. Those not wealthy enough to run or surf for sheer enjoyment hugged the railing of the pier, fishing poles in hand, hoping to catch a meal for their hungry families. The Pacific Ocean offered something for everyone.

There was no way to lighten the footfalls as his boots clomped along the wooden planks of the pier. Jake fought hard to conceal a confident grin. The Duke and Gary Cooper would love the image: the lone lawman taking on society’s evils one at a time. The heavy pounding of each step added to his essence. Successfully fighting off a smile, he was in character and devouring this persona: the contract killer… maybe his favorite role.

About halfway down the pier he sidled over to the railing at the prearranged meeting spot, a concrete bench on the north side of the pier. Jake took in the smells and sounds: fresh air, gulls crying out, and the sea splashing against the concrete pilings.

It was a little past ten and he was preparing to meet an obnoxious criminal defense attorney, a frequent guest of the TV talk shows. Reid represented most of the bad boys of Hollywood and served as their PR mouthpiece every time the stars and starlets decided the criminal statutes were meant only for the unwashed masses. Reid didn’t need TV ads or billboards; his face was plastered across the screen often. If you didn’t know better you might think he co-hosted TMZ on TV or Access Hollywood. The height-deprived, Harvard-trained lawyer gave Napoleon complex a bad name. He was short, lumpy, and sported a spray-on tan, but his money and power trumped any physical inadequacies. With his slicked-back dark hair and baritone voice, he wooed juries and the media.

Reid suggested the pier and Jake didn’t balk. The experienced undercover agent knew he could get a better recording outside than in some crowded coffee shop.

Jake spotted his quarry out of the corner of his eye but maintained his attention on the water below as the pompous litigator with a cigarette dangling from his lips marched with purpose toward the designated meeting site.

An Asian homeless man followed Reid down the pier. When Reid stopped to assess the people around him, the homeless man, reeking of alcohol and urine, approached the attorney dressed in his tailored Armani suit and Dolce & Gabbana shoes.

In a heavy accent the beggar pleaded, “Can you spare change?”

Reid removed the cigarette from his lips. Responding with the dismissive arrogance of the landed gentry, he grunted, “I gave at the office.”

“Please,” said the homeless man in a hope-filled voice as he reached for the suit and grabbed at the sleeve.

With his free hand Reid brushed the man’s right arm aside, more disgusted than afraid. “Don’t touch me,” said Reid defiantly.

“You have very nice suit, you spare few dollars.”

Reid picked up his pace and scooted past the beggar as a few fishermen who watched the exchange turned their attention back to their multiple fishing lines.

Reid hustled toward Jake, who was still looking out over the water.

“Do those guys just bathe in their own piss?” said Reid, flicking the cigarette into the ocean. “The smell, how do they stand living like that?”

Jake didn’t turn to acknowledge the comment, his apparent focus on the surfers. There was an awkward silence as Reid reached inside his jacket and pulled a tricolor gold cigarette case from his pocket. As if stalling for time, he removed a cigarette and tapped it against the case.

The homeless man meandered over to a bench a few feet from where Jake and Reid were standing.

“You must be Jake,” said Reid, squarely facing the undercover FBI agent.

Jake continued the long moment of awkward silence before turning slightly and sneered, “And why must I be Jake? I don’t have to be anybody.” He looked the lawyer up and down as if sizing him up. “Who are you?”

Reid was caught short. The encounter with the homeless man took the lawyer out of his game and now he was being ridiculed by some guy in cowboy boots who towered over him. “Maybe I got the wrong guy. Sorry.” The words almost choked as the apology stumbled out of his mouth. Mea culpa didn’t come easily to someone used to commanding those beneath his perceived place in society. He dropped the unlit cigarette and returned the case to inside his jacket. Reid turned to look at the others on the pier but Latino fishermen or the homeless didn’t fit the description he’d been given. Confusion reigned and he stammered with a weak “Tommy sent me. I was looking for…”

“Yeah, maybe I’m the guy you want,” interrupted Jake.

“I’m Daniel Reid,” he said, offering his hand.

Jake forcefully grabbed the extended arm just above the wrist and pulled the lawyer forward, giving Reid a Mafia hug and obligatory pat-down, running his hands up and down Reid’s back searching for a wire or a weapon.

Reid tried to push himself away but was no match for the undercover agent’s strength. “What are you doing? Do you think I brought a gun?”

Jake released Reid, who stepped back, brushing off his suit and straightening his tie.

“No, I think you may be wearing a wire. This could all be a setup. You might be some slick attorney trying to work off a tax beef. I don’t know you. Tommy said you needed help. But I don’t know that I trust Tommy any more than I trust you.”

“So are you satisfied?”

“Yeah.”

“Do I get to check you out?”

Jake took a step back, held out his hands, palms up, and gestured with a perceptible wiggle. “Yeah. Come on.”

Reid took a step forward and Jake said, “But if you don’t find anything I’m going to throw your ass over the railing. And for a few bucks everyone on this pier will tell the same story… the guy in the suit jumped. He must have gotten scared by the homeless man.”

Reid stopped in his tracks and screwed up his courage. “We aren’t getting off to a very good start.”

“Sure we are. You’re not wired and you know I’m all about business. Now let’s talk about your problem.”

Reid had his head down, afraid to look Jake in the eye. Trying to defuse the volatility of the situation and make a little nice-nice, the lawyer said, “Good-looking boots.”

“Ostrich skin. I can afford it and I’m worth it.”

Reid reached inside his suit coat and again removed the gold cigarette case.

“Nice case,” said Jake.

“It’s a Cartier.”

“You can afford nice toys, too.”

“It was a gift but yes, I can afford nice toys.”

Reid opened the case and began to remove a cigarette.

Determined to keep Reid off balance and uncomfortable, Jake said, “Leave the smokes in your jacket. Your cigarettes smell worse than your friend over there,” referring to the homeless man.

Reid slowly replaced the case inside his suit coat. “Tommy told me you had a way of making problems disappear.”

“Yeah, I’m a regular Criss Angel when it comes to problems, assuming the price is right. Why would a rich man like you need my services?”

“I need someone out of my life and I need it done quickly and quietly.”

“Timing shouldn’t be an issue as long as you’re straight up with the facts. Who is the someone?”

“It’s a girl.”

“I don’t do kids,” snapped Jake.

“No, I mean a girlfriend.”

Jake looked down and saw a diamond-studded gold wedding band on the lawyer’s left ring finger. “Thou shalt not commit adultery. But I guess if you don’t have a problem with murder, adultery shouldn’t be an issue. Why don’t you just break it off and walk away?”

Reid put his head down and in a near whisper said, “It’s complicated.”

“It always is; otherwise you wouldn’t need me. What’s the complication? Is it a celebrity? Some politician or a judge? Notoriety costs more.”

“No, it’s nothing like that. She’s the daughter of what you might call a business associate and she’s pregnant. I offered to pay for an abortion but she wants to keep the baby. That isn’t going to happen. I won’t be blackmailed with support payments for the next eighteen years.”

“Does this business associate know you’ve been dipping your pen in the company inkwell?”

“She says she hasn’t said a word but how can I believe her? She kept telling me she couldn’t get pregnant.”

“How do you know the baby is yours?” Jake offered with a hint of skepticism. “You said you can’t believe her.”

Reid reflected briefly on Jake’s question. His ego wanted to believe she had been faithful and the child was his. “Look, under the circumstances a paternity test is out of the question.”

“Why?” asked Jake. “Are you sure there aren’t any other boyfriends?”

“Most of our dates have been at clubs catering to young Asians. Maybe she met someone there. I don’t know, but waiting for the kid to be born and finding out he has round eyes is a chance I can’t take. Her father would have me killed if I bet wrong.”

Jake looked back out over the water and leaned against the railing. He paused for a long moment as if gathering his thoughts and knew he was making the attorney anxious. “I love the ocean. Each wave seems to bring new hope as it washes away the disturbances in the sand created by men and their problems.” Jake paused again, this time for dramatic effect. “I understand your complication.”

“So you can handle it?” There was a hint of excited anticipation in his voice.

“I can handle it. You want to send a message or just make the problem go away?”

“No, I want it to go away. If it looks like an accident, all the better.”

“I can do accidents. How about a random act of violence?”

“Yeah, that would work. Maybe you could make it look like a robbery or a carjacking.”

Jake turned to face the attorney. “I can do it. Fifty thousand. Half up front. Half when it’s done.”

There was a subdued look of shock on Reid’s face. “Fifty thousand! Tommy didn’t say it would be that much.”

“If you’re looking for a bargain, try Walmart, but two murders are more costly.”

“Two?”

“Yeah, two. You said the girl was pregnant.”

Reid hesitated a little too long. Jake thought the lawyer would bite but questioned whether he’d set the price too high. Jake hated to look desperate and from a legal standpoint didn’t want to lower the fee as if enticing Reid to commit a crime. The moments ticked by but so were Reid’s options if he wanted the job done professionally. The attorney might be a tiger in the courtroom but he was out of his league in these negotiations. Jake wanted to add one more ingredient to this recipe for murder. He’d give Reid an opportunity to call it off; Jake started to walk away.

“Wait!” cried the attorney, despair in his voice.

With a confident grin Jake turned and almost in a whisper said, “Listen, if you want a bargain-basement killing, hire some gangbanger down in the hood. Those hip-hop artists you represent must know plenty who would do it on the cheap, but if you want it done right and done professionally by someone who won’t give up your pale white ass when he gets picked up on his next dope beef, you’ve come to the right man.”

“I’ll pay what you’re asking. Just keep me out of it,” said Reid, pleading for Jake’s assistance.

“I know how to do my job and since you aren’t interested in pulling the trigger, I’ll do your job, too… if you bring the green. Meet me at three tomorrow afternoon. Bring the money, a picture of the girl, and all the descriptive information, like cars, addresses, phone numbers. I want the four-one-one. Everything you got. You understand?”

Reid nodded. “She’s Asian — is that a problem?”

“Why would that be a problem? I’m not real fond of their driving but they bleed the same as Caucasians.”

“Please don’t say anything to Tommy about this. He doesn’t know who I want killed, just that I need it done. It’s between you and me,” again almost pleading with the request.

“If that’s the way you want to play, I don’t have a problem. Your money buys my services and my silence.”

Relief washed over the lawyer’s face as he offered his hand. When Jake took it, Reid clutched Jake’s with both hands, shaking with too much enthusiasm. “Thanks so much.”

“Just be here tomorrow at three with the down payment.”

“Oh, I will. I promise.”

As Reid turned and retreated down the pier, the homeless man approached again. He grabbed Reid by the arm and spun him around, pushing him toward the railing, saying, “Can you spare something? I not eat in days.”

Reid attempted to pull away, this time in fear rather than disgust. “I said leave me alone.” His plea was loud enough to catch the attention of all the fishermen, who turned to watch the assault.

The man continued to push, shoving the attorney against the wooden railing. “I just need meal. Anything. You can spare buck or two.”

Jake rushed to the encounter. He grabbed the homeless man from behind and pulled him off Reid. Jake spun the man around and grabbed the tattered shirt with a powerful grip. “My friend isn’t interested in donating to the cause.”

Jake noted the man’s balance was a little too perfect for his apparent station in life; his motions too fluid, and his eyes too clear for a street dweller.

The homeless man muttered something, collapsed onto a concrete bench, and began to cry. Jake released his grip, confused by the performance. He looked to Reid, who was shaking as he straightened his suit coat. Jake took two steps, grabbed Reid by the tie, and with his free hand reached deep into the attorney’s pocket, pulling out a money clip loaded with hundreds. Jake sorted through the bills until he came to twenties. He pulled a twenty from the wad of bills and turned to the homeless man who sought sanctuary on the Santa Monica Pier. Jake stuffed the money in the man’s hand.

When Jake turned back to Reid he said, “Just my way of redistributing the wealth. Next time pay the toll or stay out of the man’s neighborhood.”