The Crooked Street

45

Three days passed. There was no sign of Fawn.

Frost left multiple messages on her phone, but he got no reply, and he assumed that she’d long since disposed of it. He was able to get a copy of the security video from Embarcadero Station on the night of the incident, and he spotted Fawn running for the exit along with others from the Oakland train. He saw no evidence that she’d been followed from the station by anyone from Lombard.

Even so, she was still missing.

When he couldn’t reach her, he went to her sister’s house. He drove to Presidio Heights at seven in the morning and found a large moving van parked outside and a “For Sale” sign in the window. He squeezed past the moving team and discovered that the house was already empty. Everything was gone. He went up to Fawn’s bedroom on the second floor. It had been stripped clean.

Prisha Anand was standing in the foyer when he came back downstairs. She had her coat on and her purse over her shoulder. She was dressed down, in jeans and a simple cotton top, with her black hair tied behind her head. She didn’t look surprised to see him.

“So you’re leaving?” he asked.

“Yes. It’s time for a new life.”

“You’re quitting Zelyx, too?”

“It’s already done. I’m out.”

“Where are you going?”

Prisha shrugged. “Somewhere else. Far away.”

He could see in her face that she knew Zara was alive. She knew where her sister was hiding. The two of them were selling the house and making their escape together. They were trying to run from Lombard.

“You won’t be safe no matter where you go,” Frost told her. “Distance won’t protect you.”

“Don’t worry about that,” Prisha replied. “I’ve taken care of everything.”

“How?”

“The situation is complicated, Frost. That’s all I can say.”

He exhaled in frustration. “You’re not going to pretend with me, are you? You know that Zara’s alive. You know what happened at the Embarcadero.”

Prisha made sure the movers were nowhere nearby. She hooded her eyes, and then she gently reached out and touched his elbow. “Of course I do. Zara came directly to me from the station. She wants you to know — we both want you to know — how grateful we are. You saved her life.”

“Then take me to her, and let me talk to her. The only way to keep her safe is to let her go public with what she knows. These people won’t take it on faith that she’ll stay quiet. As long as she’s alive, she’s a threat to them.”

Prisha didn’t say anything immediately. She took his hand and led him out of the house, and they crossed the street to where Frost’s Suburban was parked. She looked up and down Clay Street, which was free of pedestrians. The red dome of the synagogue shone in the sun two blocks away. It was a calm, unusually warm morning, as if summer had jumped ahead of spring in the seasonal lineup.

“I’m sorry, Frost,” Prisha said. “You can’t see Zara, and I can’t tell you where we’re going. That’s part of the deal.”

“The deal?” he asked.

“I made a deal with Lombard.”

“You know about him?”

“Yes. Zara told me everything. Lombard and I worked out a mutually agreeable solution to our problem.”

Frost shook his head. “How did you contact a man that no one can find?”

“Actually, he called me,” Prisha said.

“Lombard called you?”

“He figured Zara would come to me, and he was right.”

“What did he want?” Frost asked.

“To put an end to this. He said that the cruise on Tuesday had gotten out of hand and put everyone in far more jeopardy than was necessary. He wanted to close the book on it once and for all. So we negotiated the terms of Zara’s safety. I’m a lawyer, Frost. Negotiating is what I do, and I’m very good at it. I did a deal that keeps us safe. We all get what we want.”

“You can’t trust him.”

“Deals aren’t done on trust. They’re done on parties acting in their own self-interest. That includes Lombard.”

“What did he offer you for Zara’s silence? Money? That’s how it starts. He gives you money, and you think you’re safe, but you’re not.”

“Zara and I don’t need money,” Prisha replied. “We have far more than we’d ever want. In fact, you have it backward. We purchased our safety.”

“You paid Lombard for your freedom?” Frost said. “You’re kidding yourself if you think that will work. I don’t care how much you gave him. It won’t be enough.”

“No, this is different. I paid Lombard to solve a problem for us. That’s what he does, after all. He’s a fixer.”

“And what did you want him to fix?”

“I told you, it’s complicated.”

“He’ll still kill you both, Prisha,” Frost insisted. “Wherever you go, he’ll track you down.”

“No. He won’t. I’m satisfied that it’s not in his interest to harm us after we leave, because he knows that it’s not in our interest that Zara ever say another word about the cruise on Tuesday or about him. You’ll never see her again. You’ll never see me again. Don’t bother looking for us, because you won’t find us.”

Frost felt a wave of concern. “What did you do, Prisha? Tell me.”

“Really, Frost, it’s better that you not know the details. Zara and I can live with what we’ve done, but I know you couldn’t. You’re too honorable. So it’s time to drop it. Walk away. Zara and I would hate to see you come to any harm. We’re both fond of you.”

“This is a mistake,” he said.

She gave him an uncomfortable smile. “It’s sweet of you to worry about us, but there’s no need. Please don’t hate us when you learn the truth. I know it’s not the choice you’d make, but it’s the best thing for everyone. And now I’m sorry, but I have to say good-bye.”

Prisha dashed across the street with quick little steps. There was a white Jaguar convertible parked in front of the moving van, and she climbed inside. She threw a little wave at Frost, and then she fired up the engine and sped away.

He was pretty sure she was never coming back.

Frost spent the rest of the day investigating Bugatti registrations. Given that it was a multimillion-dollar vehicle, he was surprised at how many there were throughout the state, but California was home to the crazy rich of both Hollywood and Silicon Valley. He pulled the license information on every owner and made a list for follow-up, but there was nothing to suggest that any of the Bugatti drivers was Lombard.

He also checked the mobile records on the phone that had been recovered from Fox’s body, but they led him nowhere. The numbers that the killer had used to communicate with Lombard — which obviously changed every week — all ended at disconnected burner phones.

The operatives were gone, too. Romeo Laredo had vanished and left behind a vacant apartment. So had Luis Moreno.

By the time the clock ticked to midnight, Frost was still at his desk in police headquarters, and he was at a dead end. None of the threads in the case brought him any closer to finding Lombard.

The man was still a mystery, a ghost. He was Moriarty.

Frost rubbed his eyes, which were tired from staring at the brightness of the computer screen. He leaned back in his chair and studied the desk where Trent Gorham had sat. It had already been cleared off, leaving the surface stark and empty. Gorham had spent years conducting a shadow investigation of Lombard, and the only result was to get him killed.

“Easton?” a voice called to him. “You’re still here?”

Captain Hayden filled the doorway of his office. The rest of the detective floor was quiet. The graveyard shift was mostly out on the streets. Hayden waved him inside, and Frost joined him and shut the door. Cyril was there, too, standing behind the captain the way he always did.

“Why don’t you go home,” Hayden told him. “You’re not going to accomplish anything more today. And frankly, you still need to recover. You’re not one hundred percent by a long shot.”

“I’m fine,” Frost replied.

“That wasn’t a suggestion,” Hayden told him.

Frost nodded. “All right.”

“Hey, Easton,” Cyril called to him from the window. His hard-edged voice sounded apologetic. “You know, I really thought Gorham was going to shoot that kid. That’s why I fired. I sure as hell never thought Gorham saw the kid break the neck of that chef.”

“Fox fooled me, too,” Frost said. “And he wasn’t a kid.”

“Well, I’m not happy about how it went down,” Cyril went on. “I wanted you to know that.”

“Okay.”

Hayden nodded at Cyril and then gestured toward the door. “Give me a minute alone with Frost. Warm up the car. I’ll be leaving soon, too.”

“Yes, sir,” Cyril replied.

The other cop left, and the two of them were alone in the captain’s expansive office.

“I told Cyril you had suspicions about him,” Hayden said. “I hope that Fox’s confession took care of that. We’re both sorry about Gorham, but Cyril had to make a split-second call. You or I would have done the same thing. What happened on the roof was bad luck.”

“You’re right,” Frost agreed, but he also remembered what Fox had told him in the Chinatown alley. It’s not luck, man. Around here, people have my back.

“It’s important that the three of us trust each other going forward,” Hayden went on, as if he could hear the doubts in Frost’s voice.

“I understand,” Frost said.

“Lombard is still out there.”

“That’s true. Although I’m not sure where we go from here.”

“You haven’t found anything else?”

“No.”

“So what’s your next step?”

“I don’t have one,” Frost said.

“What are you saying, Easton? Are you done with Lombard? Are you walking away?”

“That depends, sir,” Frost said. “Do you want me to walk away?”

Hayden took a while to say anything more. His breath smelled of coffee and chocolate, and his teeth were wine stained. He grabbed a half-smoked cigar from an ashtray and rolled it between his fingers. “I was at a political dinner tonight. I hate those things, but they’re a necessary evil. The mayor was there. He asked about the incident at the Embarcadero.”

“What did you tell him?” Frost asked.

“I said it was about drugs,” the captain replied. “He seemed relieved to hear that.”

“I’m sure he was.”

“He also asked about Denny Clark. I told him the investigation was closed. He was pleased about that, too.”

“No doubt,” Frost said.

“What I’m saying is, nobody’s pushing for the truth. I won’t blame you if you want to let it go.”

“I appreciate that,” Frost replied, but he left the original question unanswered. He wasn’t making any promises.

Hayden waited. The silence between them drew out. “You know, Easton, you’ve still never told me who was really on that boat.”

“That’s because I can’t prove it. I have no witnesses.”

“But you know, right?”

“Does it matter now, sir? I mean, since the case is closed.”

“I guess not,” Hayden said.

“Will there be anything else, sir?” Frost asked.

“No. You can go home. We can talk more tomorrow.”

Frost left the office. He gathered up his things at his desk and took the elevator down to the street. Outside, in the darkness, the unusual early-season heat stubbornly refused to yield to the typical cool evening air. Between the downtown buildings, it was still warm enough to make him sweat. His Suburban was parked at the water on the east end of China Basin, and he walked that way alone past the glass windows of upscale condominiums. His pace was slow as he passed in and out of the glow of streetlights. The neighborhood was deserted. He could smell the bay as he got closer, and when he reached the water, the city skyline and the baseball stadium came into view on his left.

He stopped.

Directly in front of him on the other side of the street was a black Bugatti. Its ferocious engine idled. Its distinctive C-curve swooped along the roofline and bent below the driver’s door, making the machine look like the Batmobile.

Romeo Laredo leaned against the hood. “Well, hey, Inspector, how are you? We keep running into each other, don’t we? San Francisco’s a small town.”

“Looks that way,” Frost replied. He stayed where he was and slid back the flap of his jacket like a gunslinger to reveal the holster for his weapon.

“Oh, you won’t be needing that,” Romeo told him. “In fact, I’d really appreciate it if you could come over here and hand it to me.”

“Why should I do that?” Frost asked.

“Well, first of all, if you look around, you’ll see that I’m not alone, so if you’re thinking about being a hero, that’s a really bad call. Second, there’s somebody in the car who’d like to talk to you, and I sort of think you’d like to talk to him, too.”

Frost took a quick glance in every direction and confirmed Romeo’s story. Other men with guns had appeared on all sides and were closing in from the shadows. He slid his pistol slowly into his hand with two fingers and then crossed the street and deposited it in Romeo’s palm. The athletic operative grinned.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it back,” Romeo told him.

Frost went around to the passenger side of the Bugatti. He noted that there was no license plate. The door opened on its own for him with a soft click, and he got inside. As he sank into the rich leather seat, which practically melted around him, the door closed automatically. There was almost no light inside the vehicle behind the smoked glass. The man at the wheel was very close to him, but Frost could make out few details of who he was. He wore an elegant dress fedora tilted to cover much of his face, and his eyes were hidden by owlish sunglasses. The collar of his dark raincoat was up, and his mouth and cheeks were in shadow. He was ageless and had no identity. All Frost could make out was a sheen of black hair and the outline of an unremarkable nose that he tried to capture in his memory.

“Hello, Inspector Easton,” Lombard said.

He had a much softer voice than Frost was anticipating. His tone was firm but calm, like a teacher discussing the ins and outs of Plato with a student. It wasn’t the kind of voice that would intimidate strangers, but this man’s entire world had been built around intimidation and cruelty. Frost thought about the cigarette burns on Belinda Drake’s chest and about the trail of dead bodies, and it reminded him whom he was dealing with.

“Why are we meeting?” Frost asked. “Are you planning to kill me?”

In the darkness, he saw the smallest smile creep onto Lombard’s lips. “Now, why would I do that when I’ve already won, Inspector? You’re no threat to me now.”

“Then why? Or do you just want to gloat?”

“Actually, my first thought was to see if I could recruit you to join my organization,” Lombard told him.

“I thought you already had spies inside Mission Bay,” Frost said.

“One can never have enough information. Besides, there are many roles for someone with your talent and intelligence. I’m sure you see me as one of the bad guys, but I would argue the point with you. We’re both trying to make San Francisco a better place.”

“With murder?” Frost asked.

“With whatever’s necessary. I hope you don’t think the status quo is working here. Rampant homelessness. Unaffordable housing. Crime and street problems that your colleagues and the politicians seem unable to do anything about. This is not the city we both love, Inspector. My goal is change. I’m offering you a chance to be part of it.”

“Pass,” Frost said.

“Of course. I assumed that would be your answer, and I respect that. Well, then my second goal is to arrange a truce. A cessation of hostilities between you and me. We may not be friends, but there’s no need for us to be enemies.”

“I thought I was no threat to you,” Frost said.

“Now? You’re not. But you’re the kind of person who doesn’t give up, and who knows where that might lead? I’d rather you realize that it’s in your best interest not to pursue me.”

“Like you agreed not to pursue Zara and Prisha Anand?” Frost asked.

“Something like that,” Lombard replied. “They’re lovely women. Extremely bright and courageous. I respect that.”

“And what exactly did they hire you to do?”

Lombard tapped a gloved finger on the dashboard clock, which showed that it was one in the morning. “It’s in process at this very moment. The news will reach you soon enough. Who knows? You might even thank me when you find out.”

“I doubt that,” Frost said.

“Well, we shall see. So what do you say, Inspector? What do you think about my proposal? Can we agree to retreat to our separate corners?”

Frost shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what I say, does it? Actions speak louder than words.”

“How true.”

“I assume you’ll be watching,” Frost said.

“I will indeed. I must admit, I really do like you, Frost. I wish I could persuade you to come over to my side. But for now, I’ll say good night.”

With another soft click and a warm, sticky burst of air, the door of the Bugatti swung open again next to Frost. He climbed out, but he blocked the door from shutting with his body, and he leaned back inside. The man behind the wheel was still little more than a ghost.

“The next time we meet, it probably won’t go well for one of us,” Frost told him.

“No, I suppose not,” Lombard replied. “Either way, I look forward to it.”