Troubleshooter

Chapter 42

Ready to answer some questions, scumsuck?" Bear grabbed Rich by the hair and the union of his cuffs and slammed him against the cell block's wall. The detention enforcement officer buzzed the door, and Guerrera held it open. Bear shoved Rich out into the hall and walked him into an empty conference room. Tim unlocked the cuffs, and Rich stared at the three of them, rubbing his wrists, his face red.

"Christ, I know you're covering my ass, but go easy on the method acting."

"I'm not acting," Bear said.

"We've got information," Tim said.

Bear said, "You want to work together or you want to play your Feeb games?"

Rich's eye darted around. "You talk to Malane?"

"He's a paper-pushing prick."

"We've been ordered to liaise with the FBI," Tim said. "We're running down some leads. If someone's gotta ride along with us, we'd prefer to deal with a field operator. You can coordinate with your team from there and nail the Prophet. What we want is your intel on the bikers." He crossed his arms. "You get your guy, I get mine."

Rich cocked his head, a fall of hair blocking his good eye. "Why you so hot for Den Laurey? Want a Top Fifteen on your resume?"

Bear said, "He has three."

Rich started to respond, but Tim cut him off. "What's it gonna be?"

Rich held up his hands, a gesture of surrender. "Okay."

"Where's Goat?"

"We're holding him in the Federal Building in Westwood. He's drugged up, under heavy medical supervision. We haven't been able to get shit out of him-he's too scrambled. What's your information?"

"Not yet," Tim said. "I know you've been working Uncle Pete."

Rich bounced his head from side to side as if debating whether to give up the goods. "We intercepted some of Uncle Pete's cell-phone transmissions, but I'm not at liberty to disclose-"

"Then we're not at liberty to take you along." Bear snatched the cuffs from Tim and descended on Rich.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. We know he's in on the drugs. But we need to let it play out."

"So you can get the Prophet?" Tim asked.

"And because we need material evidence to make a case against Uncle Pete. We need the drugs, or else all we've got are recorded conversations about shit that we can't prove happened."

"You got enough for a warrant?" Guerrera asked.

"Again, not without material evidence to support the recordings."

Bear said, "Maybe we get a warrant. We're tighter with the bench."

Rich laughed. Even in the brighter light, his skin looked yellow. "Dana Lake'll put her pump so far up your ass you'll taste the Gucci logo. And besides, the evidence isn't with Uncle Pete. Or at the clubhouse. He's too smart for that. That's the whole reason he has the nomads. This ain't about warrants and kicking down doors."

Bear made an aggravated noise. Guerrera raised his hands when Tim glanced at him-your call. Down the corridor two prisoners were having a mouth-off in opposing cells, yo' mamas flying like shrapnel.

Rich grew uneasy from the pause-he wanted back in. "Help us get the drugs, and we'll sink Uncle Pete." He eyed Tim. "And you can get Den in the process."

Tim chewed his lip, still deciding. Finally he turned for the door. "Let's take a ride."