Counterfeit Lies

CHAPTER TWO

Jake maintained a safe speed keeping in the far right lane. The traffic was minimal on the I-15, so he could have opened it up without arousing any suspicion, but he had no intention of alerting some chippie trying to make his monthly quota. He checked his mirrors often but saw nothing unusual. Their escape had gone unnoticed.

Tommy Hwan, a third-generation Korean-American with a criminal record dating back to his juvenile days, was in the passenger seat. Just twenty-four, the small-time street thug, what the Koreans called a kkangpae, had no idea Jake was anything but another member of L.A.’s criminal underworld.

Forty minutes of silence was interrupted by Tommy’s plea, “You need to pull over. I gotta take a leak.”

Jake smirked. “I thought you peed your pants back there.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to pull a gun. I thought you were giving him the bill of lading and couldn’t figure out why.”

“We’ve got too much unfinished business to let a couple of jackers get in the way.”

“They didn’t get in our way for long,” said Tommy.

“What did you want me to do, give them your twenty-foot container of fake watches?” said Jake.

Tommy laughed. “They aren’t mine till you get ’em to the warehouse. The deal includes safe delivery to L.A.”

“Yeah, I guess it does say something like that in the fine print,” said Jake with a brief grin.

“You showed me something back there.”

“Yeah, so did you,” sneered Jake.

“No, seriously. A gun ups the ante on any jail time, so I don’t carry. I’m a lover, not a fighter. But you’re not afraid to pull the trigger.”

Jake merely nodded, questioning whether he’d become too comfortable with the violence that had become a part of his life.

“Killing comes easy to you,” said Tommy.

With a slight shrug, Jake said, “I wouldn’t say easy but it kept us aboveground tonight.”

“Something came up the other day and you just might have the stones to pull it off.”

“You want to give me a clue.”

“After I pee.”

Jake pulled off the freeway at State Highway 76, stopping in front of the Circle K — Mobil station. “You can run in there. Grab me a Coke on your way out. I’ll turn this puppy around, then we’ll head back north.”

As soon as Tommy exited the cab, Jake was on his cell phone. He punched in a number and after three rings a sleepy voice answered, “Yeah.”

“It’s me. We need a cleanup on aisle four,” said Jake with a slight smile in his voice.

“Jake, don’t tell me that. I don’t need any more paperwork.”

“Hey, I removed two more idiots from the gene pool.”

“What happened?” asked Trey Bennett, his case agent.

“At our usual off-loading spot in Otay Mesa, Tommy and I got hit by a couple of thieves. They’re both dead. I’ve got their wallets and weapons. You better get somebody from the San Diego office involved. I don’t think there were any wits. I didn’t have much of a choice but it was righteous. I’m not sure if the video from the cab picked it up but the audio should have grabbed it.”

“Is Tommy okay?”

“Yeah,” and then with sarcasm, Jake added, “So am I. Thanks for asking.”

Science-fiction author Robert Heinlein claimed fulfillment in life came from loving a good woman and killing a bad man. Veteran FBI undercover agent Jake Kruse had done both, but lately the killing came easier than the loving.

Jake wasn’t the only person spilling blood in Southern California this evening. An honor graduate of the state’s prison system was about to pull a trigger as well. Within days the lives of the assassin and the undercover FBI agent would intersect violently.