Final Target

CHAPTER 16

I thought your pal in Washington told you to fold your hands and sit patiently on the sidelines,” Hector “Viz” McBride spoke into his two-way outside of Matson’s forested Saratoga home just before daybreak.

Hector McBride was ready to jump on Matson’s tail. McBride was a big man. The biggest man nobody ever saw. Around Gage’s office he was simply referred to as Viz, short for the Invisible Man.

“He knew that wouldn’t happen,” Gage answered from where he was parked a half mile away.

Viz laughed. “Didn’t we all.”

Alex Z was sitting in the passenger seat next to Gage. He’d come along to talk about the case in a world where, as Viz always told him with a grin, “the rubber meets the road, kid.” Alex Z never knew what he meant, but it always made him nervous.

Gage heard Viz’s engine turn over.

“Time to go to work, boss. Scooby Doo’s just pulling out. He’s in a silver BMW, four-door, 760Li. Heading southeast toward Big Basin.”

Viz reported in five minutes later. “He’s not on his way to his office. Not even toward San Jose. He just turned north on the Saratoga-Sunnyvale Road, toward the 85.”

“I’ll swing around.”

Matson indeed took the 85. He drove north until he hit the 280, then the 101 along the bay toward San Francisco.

“He must be going downtown,” Viz said.

Gage and Viz traded places, then followed in silence until Matson approached the financial district.

“Looks like he’s aiming toward Van Ness Avenue,” Gage said.

Matson turned east from Van Ness just after passing the gold-domed City Hall, then swung around the Federal Building and parked in the lot across the street.

“Viz, I don’t want him seeing me yet and I want you out here snapping pictures. I’m sending in Alex Z.”

“What? Me?” Alex Z recoiled toward the passenger window. “You said I could just come along for the ride.”

The man who spent his nights performing onstage before crowds of adoring women was panicking in the wings.

Gage grinned. “It’ll be something you can tell your children about.”

Alex Z shook his head. “Did I tell you I don’t want kids?”

“Too late, hop to it.”

“What do I say if-”

“Say you got busted in an ecstasy case.”

“But I don’t use ecstasy.”

Alex Z’s eyes tracked Gage’s as he scanned his earrings, tattoos, and unkempt hair.

“But everyone will think you do.”

Heart pounding, Alex Z climbed out of the car and followed Matson through the security checkpoint and into the elevator. Matson pressed 11, then glanced over at Alex Z.

“Thanks, I’m going there, too,” Alex Z squeaked out.

Matson stepped out of the elevator on the eleventh floor. Alex Z followed him down the hall into the lobby of the Office of the United States Attorney.

Alex Z took a seat, then waved a clammy hand toward the receptionist behind the bulletproof glass, mouthing the words, “I’m waiting for my lawyer.”

Matson walked up to the counter.

“I’m here to see Mr. Peterson.”

Two minutes later, after the receptionist handed Matson a stick-on security badge and buzzed him in, Alex Z slipped back to the elevator.

“He went into the U.S. Attorney’s Office,” Alex Z told Gage when he got back into the car. “He asked for someone named Peterson.”

“Damn.”

Gage noticed Alex Z’s hands shaking. “It wasn’t the answer I was hoping for, but good job getting it.”

He radioed Viz. “The little punk is setting up Jack in exchange for a get-out-of-jail-free card. Go down to SatTek. The workers still there are either unemployable elsewhere or real tight with Matson. Try to figure out who’s who, but be careful. We’re going to have to stay in the shadows until we can shine a little light on the inner workings of this scam.”