Middle Of Nowhere

C H A P T E R

38

Seattle's reputation as a rain forest was largely undeserved. It was true that during the rinse cycle, November through March, northern Pacific storms tracked through regularly, leaving the city without so much as a glimpse of the sun, sometimes for weeks at a time. True that spring and fall saw their fair share of "partly sunny" days that were actually "partly rainy," as a thick and dreary mist fell, broken by moments of spectacular sunshine, the warm power of which could almost evaporate the moisture before the next wave of clouds passed over. But for all those stereotyped storms and images of umbrellas and slickers presented by the Weather Channel, the glory days of clear skies, a light breeze and sixty degrees were just as common. The moisture brought lush vegetation, wonderful gardening, and clean streets, the air fresher and purer than perhaps any other city in the country.

Boldt and Gaynes orchestrated their plan to capture Flek as he arrived to pick up his rifle scope. The International District lay under a rich summer sky, the air crisp and clean. Seagulls flew down the city streets, their cries echoing off buildings. The towering snowcapped peak of Mount Rainier loomed impossibly close, as if part of a Hollywood backdrop. It was a day when Liz would tell Boldt to "pinch yourself." That good.

"You with me, L.T?" Gaynes asked from the shotgun seat.

"What's that?"

With their unmarked van parked a block from the street entrance to Manny Wong's electronic repairs shop, Boldt and Gaynes had an unrestricted view of the surveillance target. Asians peopled the sidewalks and occupied the vehicles in proportions that made Caucasians stand out. For this reason, Boldt and Gaynes stayed put behind the van's tinted windows. And although the department's demographics prior to the Flu had included dozens of Asian patrol officers and detectives, the suspensions and firings imposed by the chief had drastically reduced their numbers to where Boldt's field team consisted of Detective Tom "Dooley" Kwan— currently inside the shop—and three relatively green patrol recruits out on the street in plainclothes: a twenty-something African American, Danny Lincoln, playing the role of a bike messenger who, on one knee, was busy with what looked like a blown bike chain; a middle-aged Vietnamese woman, Jilly Hu, outside the shop looking left and right as she acted out anxiously awaiting a ride, her hands occupied with the ubiquitous cellular phone; and a third man, Russ Lee, a Chinese American, in a wheelchair with a blanket over his lap concealing a loaded assault rifle, keeping speed with the first rule of engagement: Never be outgunned. Hu and Lee were partnered; Lincoln and Dooley were solo—on their own.

Four patrol cars, two uniforms each, maintained a three-block perimeter, in case backup was needed.

Gaynes explained, "I was saying that it's kind of eerie without all the normal radio chatter."

Boldt reminded her that the bicyclist, Danny Lincoln, was wearing a radio headset—as so many messengers did. It happened that Lincoln's headset connected to SPD dispatch. They had Jilly Hu on the cell phone. Dooley wore a wire—a concealed transmitter and receiver. They weren't exactly in the dark.

The police coverage of the rifle sight pick-up had been hastily thrown together. As the impending moment drew nearer, Boldt feared that if it went wrong they might not only lose a suspect, but someone might get hurt. He had LaMoia to remind him of that.

"What's your take?" Boldt asked Gaynes. She had a nose for such things.

"Not great."

"Same here."

"Our people look good. It's not that," she said. "And I think it's smart that we have Dooley working in the back of the store, not out front at the counter. That's way more natural than if Dooley is just loitering out front and making Flek nervous. And maybe it's just all the goddamned Asians milling around these streets, but something feels wrong about it, you know? Like it's going to go south."

"Yes, I know," Boldt conceded.

"Doesn't mean it has to."

"No, it doesn't," he agreed.

"Maybe it's just everyone warning us what a crazy son of a bitch Flek is—the hair-trigger temper, the violent nature. I hate that shit. Maybe it's thinking about Sanchez and John, and how this guy doesn't seem to give a shit about us wearing badges. You know? What's that about?"

"Downright disrespectful, I'd say," Boldt said.

She grinned into her slight reflection off the glass. "Downright right you are."

"I think you can take Sanchez off his list, though we won't know until we collar him. He did LaMoia. He'll pay for that." He told her about Sanchez's inability to ID Flek, and of her earlier uncertainty concerning who was responsible.

A large Ben and Jerry's truck momentarily blocked their view of the gun dealer's storefront. After the truck passed, Boldt saw that Lee, Hu and Lincoln had all adjusted their locations, signaling a development.

The cell phone in Hu's hand carried an open line to Gaynes's right ear. Gaynes wore a small headset attached to her cell phone to keep her hands free. She mumbled into the headset and then informed Boldt, "A Caucasian, female, just entered the store."

Boldt turned up the volume on the dash-mounted police radio receiver. Being in the back room, Dooley Kwan and his RF microphone provided no insight into the goings-on in the front of the store. Boldt desperately wanted to know what was going on.

The slightest movement on Kwan's part resulted in a scratching through the receiver's small speaker.

"You turn that up any louder," Gaynes commented, "and we're going to hear him sweating."

"Description?" Boldt requested.

Gaynes repeated the request into her headset. Poking the earpiece firmly into her ear to hear Kwan's reply she reported, "Female. Late teens, early twenties. Caucasian. Five-six, five-seven. Platinum—"

"Courtney Samway," Boldt said. "Flek sent her to pick up the scope for him." He had an undercover team in place following Samway—later that day he would have heard about this visit in the team's daily report, albeit too late. He used the radio to notify her surveillance team to leave the area. He didn't need any additional confusion.

They transmitted Samway's identity to "Dooley" Kwan and informed the others to follow the suspect if and when she left. Jilly Hu on foot. Danny Lincoln by bike.

The radio picked up Dooley as he responded to Wong. Boldt and Gaynes listened intently. The exchange was brisk. Dooley delivered Flek's scope to the front of the store, at which point his concealed microphone picked up the conversation in the room.

Wong told Samway, "Tell your friend all sales are final. The modifications he requested have been made, and that next time I won't deal with a go-between. It's not how I do business."

"Whatever," the woman said. "He just asked me to pick the thing up for him. I don't know what he wants with some microphone anyway."

"It's her," Boldt said to Gaynes, recognizing the voice. "It must be in a microphone box."

Gaynes nodded. "Yup. The girlfriend. I overheard her in the Box," Gaynes said. "You think it's conceivable she doesn't know what it is?"

"I think he does her thinking for her, if that's what you're asking."

Over the radio, Wong said, "A hundred and fifty for the modifications."

"He only gave me a hun," Courtney Samway complained. She was fifty dollars short.

Boldt checked that the cassette hubs were spinning. He said, "That connects her pick-up to a man, and we already have her connected to Flek. That'll help Delgato in terms of arrest warrants."

She complained, "Does us no good without the collar."

"Notify the street team the mark is good," Boldt ordered. "And remind them that Flek may have simply dropped her off. He could be in the area."

Boldt then radioed SPD dispatch and dictated instructions for the uniforms in the patrol cars. For security's sake, the messages to the patrol cars would be sent over the vehicle's onboard mobile data terminal— MDT. These digitized text messages were impossible to intercept.

He wanted his team alert. If Flek was in the area, he probably had the assault rifle in his possession. Scope or no scope, it represented lethal firepower.

Wong and Samway argued money over the radio worn by Dooley.

Samway's voice said faintly, "Hang on. Let me make sure he only gave me the hun."

Boldt didn't want Wong to refuse her the scope. He needed that scope to lead him to Flek.

"What do you know?" Samway said. "I had it all along."

"Next time no go-betweens," Wong complained, heard over the radio. "I no do business with go-betweens."

"Yeah, yeah," the young woman scoffed. A doorbell rang softly, signaling her departure.

Courtney Samway appeared on the sidewalk in front of Wong's store.

"Doesn't look like a stripper from here," Gaynes said.

Boldt watched and listened as his crew kicked into gear. Jilly Hu followed on foot.

Danny Lincoln fixed the chain, mounted the bike and pedaled out into traffic. Samway walked west. Boldt's team followed. He and Gaynes carefully monitored the radio.

Lincoln informed dispatch that Samway had boarded a bus.

Gaynes asked, "Eastbound or westbound?"

"Damn!" Boldt shouted, traffic blocked by a doubleparked bread truck.

"Wonder Bread," Gaynes said, reading the back of the delivery truck. "Wouldn't you just know it?"

* * *

As the eastbound bus pulled away from the curb, Samway aboard, Boldt's team scrambled to follow—although to look at them, one would not detect the slightest bit of anxiety; this, in case Flek was himself watching.

Boldt drove the van with Gaynes as shotgun; Lee drove a Ford with Hu as his passenger; Danny Lincoln pedaled furiously on the bike.

Predictably, in tortoise-versus-the-hare fashion, the bike out-paced the slower vehicular traffic and kept up with the bus, Lincoln reporting its location block by block.

Dispatch reported that Phil Shoswitz had arrived to act as the surveillance team's coordinator. Shoswitz knew his way around mobile surveillance.

The bicyclist kept up with the eastbound city bus without much trouble due to the vehicle's frequent stops. Shoswitz deployed the Ford, the van and four cruisers around an extended perimeter as a safety net. The chess match had begun. Boldt's team had to prepare for Samway's departure at any bus stop; at the same time they had to be prepared to follow a moving bus.

The strategy paid off. Courtney Samway disembarked the 7 line and gathered with others awaiting the 60, unaware that just fifteen feet away, a plainclothes policeman monitored her every movement. Samway placed a quick call from a corner pay phone, a call that was not monitored, but would be the cause of much legal wrangling immediately following. Deputy prosecuting attorney Lacey Delgato would battle with the courts to be given access to the pay telephone's call sheet, a situation that had legal precedent on her side, but a liberal court's policy toward expectation of privacy working against her. Boldt believed absolutely that the call had been placed to Flek, in all probability to a cell phone—across the street, across town, across country, he couldn't be sure until that call sheet was made available.

"What does it matter?" Gaynes asked. "It's bound to be a cloned phone. It's not like we'll lift a physical address."

"Triangulation," Boldt answered. "It's got to be a cell phone. That works in our favor." Cellular service providers possessed software to locate an individual cellular phone using radio triangulation methodology developed for the military in World War II. Currently the technology was used to locate 911 emergency calls placed from cellular phones. Law enforcement had been quick to take advantage of the existing technology, tracking down drug dealers and gang members. The technology was currently slow however, and Boldt was caught unprepared to deploy it.

"What do you want to bet," Gaynes replied, "she'll lead us to him anyway?" Then she added, "Oh, yeah. I forgot. You don't bet."

Boldt said, "I think he'll park her for a while—an hour, an afternoon, a day. Keep an eye on her himself. Maybe just let her stew. The guy knows us. Knows the way we think. He's been in and out of the system his whole life. His brother's dead. He's wanted and on the run."

"Pissed off."

"That too. Depending on that temper of his, he could exercise some patience at this point. There's no real rush, other than staying away from us."

"You overestimate him," she disagreed. "He's an impatient, wild man. And if we believe Samway, his one purpose at the moment is to take you out for getting his brother killed. That's urgent. That's pressing. Ask Daphne—he's irrational, unpredictable and impatient. That call she just made? He called her in. We've got this skel."

Samway rode the Broadway bus north for eleven blocks—a cop sitting a few rows behind her—and then disembarked in front of a Seattle's Best Coffee, where she drained the next hour off the clock. Jilly Hu entered the same establishment, wearing a scarf over her head, and read the paper and sipped tea for this same hour, one eye on the suspect, another ready with her cellular phone.

By the time Samway departed the coffee shop, Shoswitz had unmarked cars in place—ready to continue the game of chess. Boldt and Shoswitz remained in constant contact. The radio hummed with activity. Boldt lived for these moments.

When an hour had expired, Samway reboarded the 60—the northbound Broadway bus. Jilly Hu remained behind in the coffee shop.

"You're biting your nails, L.T.," Gaynes said. "You don't normally do that."

Boldt glared. Her timing was off. He envisioned the movement of the various cars as Shoswitz re-deployed them, fully aware that Flek could be on any street corner, or waiting in a car nearby.

"You're thinking he's a planner," Gaynes said, reading well his steadied concentration.

"I am."

"That he's waiting out there, watching for us."

"Tracking her," Boldt said, "like a stalker."

"And if he spots us—"

"He'll never make contact with her again. It'll be the last we ever see of him." He sensed something from Gaynes. "What?"

"I have a hunch you're gonna hear from him, L.T. The rest of us, maybe not. But you? He's not through with you."

"Thanks," Boldt said. "That's reassuring."

"I call 'em as I see 'em. Which is on account of why I'd like to see us catch him first."

"Well, at least we're in agreement there."

Broadway teemed with college kids: restaurants, record stores, grocery stores, moviehouses. On foot it would prove far more difficult to follow her, given the environment. Thankfully, Samway remained onboard the bus at the busiest stops. When she did disembark, it was to transfer from the 60 to the 43—a move that left Shoswitz hustling through bus route schedules. But Gaynes knew the 43, putting their van a jump ahead of the rest of the surveillance teams.

"It goes through Montlake to the U-District."

Boldt speculated, "He wants her in areas where there are a lot of kids her age. First Broadway, now the U."

"We can beat the bus there, L.T. And get me into the field—onto the street. If she tries to use the crowds to lose us . . . I'm already on the ground and running."

Boldt felt somewhat obliged to let Shoswitz orchestrate the manpower, but Gaynes was right: They had a window of opportunity, and though a gamble, it seemed worth taking.

Reading his thoughts, Gaynes said bluntly, "This woman is not getting off in Montlake, L.T. He wants her in the U."

Boldt turned away from his assigned route without reporting in, while the radio spit static as Shoswitz hurried to comprehend bus route 43. Gaynes reached for the radio's microphone.

"We gotta call it in, L.T."

"Wait," Boldt instructed. He continued north on 10th Avenue, making for University Bridge.

As Shoswitz began to bark orders, Boldt keyed Gaynes to report that they were already under way to the University bus stop.

"We don't know she's headed to the U," Shoswitz objected over the radio.

Boldt took the microphone from Gaynes, and said, "Yes, we do, Captain. I'm getting there ahead of time to put Gaynes on foot."

"You'll stay in formation," Shoswitz ordered.

"We're crossing University Bridge. I'll report when we have Gaynes deployed." He put his foot to the gas, in part to cover the sound of Shoswitz screaming.

* * *

By the time the 43 pulled to a stop and Samway disembarked, clutching the box given her by Manny Wong, Boldt was parked across the street from the University's transit hub while Gaynes watched from inside a nearby KFC. For all his efforts, Shoswitz had outsmarted himself. With two cars stuck in traffic he'd been reduced to Boldt's van and a couple of cruisers. With the cruisers unable to show themselves for fear of scaring off Samway, Boldt and Gaynes led the surveillance. Samway headed out on foot into the crowds of college kids. "She keeps checking her watch," Gaynes reported, now following on foot. Ten minutes passed, by which time Shoswitz had reassembled his crew. The Ford, driven by Lee and now once again with Jilly Hu as passenger, parked on 45th Avenue. Danny Lincoln amazed everyone by arriving on his bike, his messenger's backpack strapped on tightly.

"We're coming back toward you," Gaynes reported. "I smell another bus. This guy is careful."

Boldt relayed the information to his team, believing Flek may have used the stop as part of his plan: While Samway walked around the U, Flek could buy himself time to move to the next location and set himself up with a viewpoint. Thankfully, no one from Boldt's team had followed her off the bus—something Flek may have been watching for. Boldt reported his theory to Shoswitz, warning that Flek might be a step ahead at each phase of Samway's progress, suggesting the cruisers be pushed out well away from the center of the action. Shoswitz concurred. The team now came down to Boldt's van and the Ford.

Samway led Gaynes right past Boldt's van, reentered the transit hub, and boarded the 67, whose electronic display carried the words "Northgate P & R."

Gaynes slipped in beside Boldt. "Now he wants to lose her in the mall," she said.

"He's watching," Boldt warned. "It gets tricky now."

Boldt drove on. The bus headed north. Again, traffic became the nemesis. To part the traffic with a light or siren was unthinkable, and yet both Boldt's van and Lee's Ford fell farther and farther back as traffic worsened.

"This keeps up," Gaynes warned, "and we lose her."

"Suggestions?"

"We slip over to Eighth or Fifth, running parallel, and use our stuff if we have to."

"I like it," Boldt said. He nudged his way left, his blinker flashing. A Navigator let him through with a polite flash of its headlights. The Ford remained behind the bus. Gaynes called in the change of plans.

"Was about to suggest that," Shoswitz said. It was the only time Boldt had smiled in the last two hours.

Boldt ran red lights on Eighth Avenue and quickly passed the bus's reported parallel position.

Gaynes suggested she leave the van upon their arrival at the mall. "I can be in that parking lot ahead of her."

The 67 made one stop after the mall. "We don't know the mall is her destination," Boldt said.

Gaynes pushed. "Is he going to have her ride the bus all the way out here, and then skip the mall? He can get her lost in there, L.T. It has to be the mall." She hesitated. "This is one time you're going to have to gamble."

Boldt pulled to the curb. To his right, he spotted the bus two blocks away, also slowing. "Go!" he shouted.

Gaynes popped the passenger door open. Boldt watched as she entered the mall's vast parking lot. A moment later she looked like just another person walking from a parked car toward the mall. To his right, Boldt saw passengers disembark the 67. He studied body types, tortured by the agonizingly long stream of people—until finally he spotted Samway among them. To his relief she still carried the package. They had guessed right. Gaynes would call it gambling—he might never live this down.

He looked on as Gaynes made visual contact with the mark from a hundred yards away and quickened her pace accordingly. Keeping an eye on Samway, Gaynes made it into the mall ahead of the young woman, a position where marks seldom thought to look. Russ Lee and Jilly Hu pulled up on the far side of the mall, announcing their position to Boldt over the radio.

Boldt felt his stomach knot. A mall. The crush of a thousand shoppers. The perfect place to either disappear, make a drop, or spot a tail. All Flek had to do was watch from an upper balcony to see if anyone was following Samway.

Jilly Hu had been used in the coffee shop. Shoswitz sent Lee into the mall as backup for Gaynes, on strict instructions to keep use of his cell phone to a minimum, and then only in believable situations, fearing the phone might catch Flek's eye.

Five minutes passed in relative silence. Agony. Six. Boldt's throat stung of heartburn. Ten. Shoswitz wondered aloud over the radio if they should risk sending Hu in to assist. Boldt suggested not. "It's Gaynes, Captain." His only explanation of his confidence. Twelve minutes. He felt ready to go in there himself.

Fourteen minutes. Boldt's cell phone rang. He let out a long breath. It was Bobbie Gaynes.

"She's moving again, L.T."

"Where?"

"West side. You should have her . . . right . . . now."

"Got her." Boldt saw Samway push through the wall of doors. She seemed struck by the warm air.

"Get this, she bought herself a thong swimsuit. You suppose she deducts those things off her taxes?" She added, "What now? I don't want to stick out."

"We see who picks her up," he answered.

The area surrounding the mall was not a place for pedestrians; cars were the preferred mode of transport. Samway wasn't headed for a car, as it turned out, but the sidewalk beyond. If Gaynes followed she would be easily spotted. The same applied to Danny Lincoln, who had arrived on the scene, riding his bike, only moments before. The unmarked cars were a possibility, but not a good one.

Gaynes made for Boldt's van. Lee reported in, having returned to the Ford. Boldt's team collectively held their breath.

Samway walked behind the mall and north on Fifth Avenue NE, where Lee and Hu made visual contact. She crossed Northgate Way with the light and walked west. Boldt and Gaynes sat in the front seat listening as Lee reported the woman's progress. Gaynes caught sight of her briefly and pointed far off into the distance.

Boldt looked past the interstate, worried there might be a car waiting, worried it was about to get ugly. "The motel," he said to Gaynes, as he noticed the tower and sign placed to advertise on the highway.

"You think?"

"Flek takes a room near the mall. It gives him access to public transportation, a lot of cover if he needs it— the mall being so close, the interstate in his front yard. Flek is inside that motel watching her approach from a window."

Shoswitz barked an order for Lee to follow. Boldt cut in and suspended the order—overriding a captain. "Send Lincoln on the bike," he said. "Flek is watching. She's heading to that motel."