The Pallbearers

Chapter 49

"What's this all about?" Kurt Westfall growled as I slid into a Dennvs restaurant window booth directly across from chunk); red-faced Leo Faskin. It was a little past nine the same night. We were at Denny's because it was right across from the federal building on Wilshire, and they said 011 the phone they were hungry.

Since these two guys had already made it very clear they didn't like me, it didn't surprise me they'd already ordered. But I'd just eaten anyway, and if I played this right, maybe I could get them to lose their appetites.

I waved the waitress off as Leo Faskin poured about a half a pound of sugar into his coffee and Westfall shifted his string-bean body, trying to find a comfortable spot in the booth for his bony ass.

"Guvs, I think what we need is a come-to-Jesus meeting," I said pleasantly.

"What we need is a fuck you meeting," Westfall shot back.

"C mon, Kurt, that's a little extreme," I said, holding his gaze.

Agent Faskin leaned forward. "We been told Chief Filosiani wants us to back off, and for some reason, our wussy ASAC s going along. That means we're on the sidelines. What more do you want?"

"Here's the full and complete update 011 Jack Straw," I said. "Contrary to what you were told, I don't exactly have custody of him anymore."

"We know that, Scully," Westfall said. "You took him awav from those cops on Wilshire last Wednesday night, and before sunup he gave you the slip. You been running all over L. A. like a blind rat trying to find him and so far don't have a clue. We're just waiting for this bag of shit to land 011 you where it belongs."

"I hope you guys have been playing fair and aren't abusing the Patriot Act, listening in 011 my phone calls."

Faskin set down the sugar and slid it angrily across the table, where it hit some napkins and stopped abruptly. "We don't have to tap your phones to know what an incompetent piece of shit you are."

"Have we finished with the fuck-you part ot the meeting yet?"

"No we haven't," Westfall said. "That guy, Straw, popped two federal banks in Central California. He stole ten grand from one, fourteen from the other. He knocked out a sixty-vear-old security guard during the Temecula heist. Poor old guy had to get twenty stitches. Straw is a bleeding sore with a yellow sheet that goes back ten years. He should be sitting in our cooler right now, but you cut him loose from Acosta and Moon and, dumb asshole that you are, promptly lost him. And that, my friend, is the full and complete update 011 Jack Straw."

"You left out the part where you two brain trusts let him hot-wire your backseat cigarette lighter and escape up in Temecula."

They both just sat glowering, their faces getting redder.

I leaned forward. "In the interest of lowering your blood pressure, I might be in a position to help. I know your ASAC is grinding you up over losing Jack. I also know firsthand what turds these administration guys can be. All they gotta do is come in late and make sure the Internet is connected. Field guys like us, were the ones that do the real work, and if things don't go perfect, we always end up taking the heat."

"What do you want?" Westfall said. He'd clearly had enough of me.

"Even though I don't have physical custody, I know where Jack is. I'm willing to help you two get him back."

"Where is he?" Westfall asked.

"We're gonna need to work out some terms and conditions first."

Faskin said, "Hey, dickwad, if you've lost custody of Straw like you just said and you know where he is but don't tell us, then you're an accessory after the fact in those two bank heists."

"That's a slight exaggeration, don't you think?" I smiled blandly at him.

Just then the waitress brought their orders. Leo Faskin had ordered a patty melt with fries. Kurt Westfall had a cheese omelet with double hash browns. The Denny's high-cholesterol, artery-clogger special at taxpayer expense.

"Okay, so what's the pitch?" Westfall said. He seemed the more rational of the two.

"I want you guys to agree that if I get Jack back for you, we let bygones be bygones. You don't start making trouble for me after the fact at Parker Center, filing a bunch of interagency disciplinary requests."

"What else?"

"You go to Tucson, Arizona, on the midnight flight tonight. You hook up with the local feds there, wait for my call. Once I've got Jack in custody, I'll notify you, and we can make arrangements to turn him back over to the FBI."

"Why do we need to include the Tucson bureau?" Westfall asked. He had caught a whiff of my deception. There was nothing I could do but keep going.

"We need them because, while doable, getting Jack back may not be as easy as it appears on the surface. At some point I might need a scooch of backup."

"We're not gonna fly all the way to Tucson, scare up a federal posse without knowing why, and then hang around in some hotel 'til you call us," Faskin said.

"Fellas, I can deliver Jack, but I've got some department issues of my own I'm dealing with. I promise, if you go to Tucson and wait for my call, this time tomorrow we can all grab castanets and sing the Miranda at Jack's custody hearing."

They both started to pick listlessly at their food. I'd finally managed to ruin their appetites.

I got up and stood looking down at them.

"Is that gonna be a yes?" I said.

"Get the fuck away from us," Faskin replied.

"It's a yes," Westfall finally answered, then handed me his card.