The Sentry Part 34

b.u.t.ton called Dale Springer in the FBI's New Orleans office. Springer was the agent b.u.t.ton had spoken with about the Rainey case less than an hour ago.

"Special Agent Springer."

b.u.t.ton even hated how these condescending p.r.i.c.ks answered their phones.

"Jerry b.u.t.ton in L.A. again. I stepped into something out here I need to ask about."

"Sure. What's up?"

b.u.t.ton noticed Futardo looking at him, which made his stomach clench. He would have to tell her about his f.u.c.kup as soon as he got off the phone.

"You know an agent named Jack Straw?"

"Sure. Jack's a good friend."

"Uh-huh. Well, who's his supervisor down there?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'd like to speak with his supervisor. Your Mr. Straw misrepresented himself to the Los Angeles Police Department and is acting like an underhanded p.r.i.c.k. I'd like to get this straightened out."

Springer cleared his throat.

"Hang on, Sergeant. I'll get him for you."

A few seconds later, a different male voice came on the line.

"This is Jack Straw. Who is this, please?"

b.u.t.ton felt a stillness settle into his belly.

"Jerry b.u.t.ton with the Los Angeles Police Department. Your name is Jack Straw?"

"That's right. Have we met?"

"You're working the William Rainey case?"

"I'm one of the original case agents, Detective. Can I ask what this is about?"

"Ah, listen, is there another Jack Straw on the case?"

The New Orleans Jack Straw laughed.

"Not the last time I looked. What's going on, Detective?"

"We have a gentleman here identifying himself as an agent named Jack Straw from your office. He has FBI credentials."

"That isn't possible."

"I'll call you right back."

b.u.t.ton leaned back in his chair and checked his hands. Steady as parked cars. He looked at Futardo. She was back on her computer, typing away. She was a good kid. He got up and walked over. She jumped to her feet when she saw him coming, but he motioned her down, and pulled up a nearby chair.

"Sit down, Nancy."

"Did I do something wrong?"

Her eyes were dark as black forest chocolate, but wide as demita.s.se saucers. She probably thought he was going to chew her out, which he did, often, but now he wanted to teach her.

"No, you didn't do anything wrong. It was me. I f.u.c.ked up bad. That FBI a.s.shole who came here, Straw? He had the credentials, he knew what to say, but he's a fake. The real Jack Straw is sucking crawfish heads down in New Orleans right now. I should have checked the guy out, but I didn't. That was a stupid, bush-league mistake, and it may have put a woman's life in danger."

Futardo stared at him as if one or both of them might have a stroke.

"You will never make this mistake, Nancy. For the rest of your career and beyond, you will question everything anyone tells you and you will always check out what they say. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Promise me."

"Jesus, Jerry, what are we going to do?"

b.u.t.ton didn't answer. He returned to his desk, and got the real Jack Straw back on the line. b.u.t.ton explained the situation and provided a detailed description of the fake Jack Straw to the best of his ability. When the real Jack Straw started telling b.u.t.ton how he wanted b.u.t.ton to handle the imposter, b.u.t.ton hung up. He took one deep breath, let it out, then dialed the number he had for the fake Jack Straw.

"Jack Straw."

"Jerry b.u.t.ton here. We caught a break, man. We're rolling to bag Rainey in five. You wanna go?"

"You found him?"

"A motor cop spotted the Prius. I am rolling in five, brother. You want to go or not?"

"All right. Sure. Where do I meet you?"

"Where are you?"

"Santa Monica."

"Okay, that's close. I'll pick you up on my way."

b.u.t.ton gave a location, then stowed his phone. He checked his pistol, then clipped it to his belt. Not many d.i.c.ks still carried the old .38 Snubbies, but b.u.t.ton saw no reason to change. It was small, light, and he had never fired it against another human being.

b.u.t.ton slipped on his jacket and headed out. He saw Futardo grab her purse and jump up to intercept him "What are you going to do?"

"I'm gonna bag the f.u.c.ker, Nancy. That's my job."

"I want to come. Can I? Please?"

Like a kid. All anxious and eager, and maybe a little afraid.

b.u.t.ton considered letting her come, but finally shook his head.

"Finish your reports."

He left to bag the fake Jack Straw, and did not see when she followed.

Straw was leaning against his car at the edge of a Ralph's parking lot on Wils.h.i.+re Boulevard. b.u.t.ton saw the fake p.r.i.c.k as he put on his blinker to turn, and gave a little beep. Straw stepped away from his car, all ready to go.

b.u.t.ton wondered what the guy was up to, pretending to be a federal agent, but figured it probably had something to do with Rainey's money.

b.u.t.ton turned into the lot and pulled up by Straw with the pa.s.senger door on the far side of the car.

Straw started around to the pa.s.senger side, but b.u.t.ton stopped him.

"Hang on a sec. I gotta give you a vest before we split. It's in the trunk."

Straw hesitated as b.u.t.ton climbed out.

"I don't need a vest."

"LAPD rules, man. I know it's stupid."

b.u.t.ton held up his hands to measure Straw's shoulders, and grinned as if he was making a joke.

"It's one size fits all, but it oughta do. I hope it doesn't have too many bullet holes in it."

The business with measuring Straw's shoulders let b.u.t.ton get close. He grabbed Straw's wrist, twisted his arm behind his back, and shoved him against the car.

"Stay there. Stay on the car."

b.u.t.ton cuffed his right wrist, then hooked up the left. When the fake Straw was secure, b.u.t.ton stepped back and checked him for a weapon.

"Stay on the car, f.u.c.ker. You're under arrest. Do not turn around."

"What is this, b.u.t.ton? What are you doing?"

"Jack Straw, my a.s.s. I know you're not Jack f.u.c.kin' Straw. I just spoke to the sonofab.i.t.c.h."

Detective Jerry b.u.t.ton glimpsed movement between two nearby cars, but did not see the man in time even when a blowing horn drew his attention. It sounded like a long, anguished wail.

Something hard punched him twice, so hard he staggered, which was when Kenny shot him again. b.u.t.ton fell to a knee, fumbling for the Snubbie as a tan Crown Victoria banged through oncoming traffic, spraying firefly sparks as it jumped the curb into the parking lot. b.u.t.ton saw Futardo, those black chocolate eyes all big in her head, coming to save him.

b.u.t.ton said, "No, honey-"

Kenny shot her through the winds.h.i.+eld, then quickly walked to her window and shot her again.

b.u.t.ton had the Snubbie by then, but the fake Jack Straw was shouting.

"b.u.t.ton! Get b.u.t.ton!"

b.u.t.ton got off one round, then Kenny shot him again, hit him so hard it felt like being speared with a javelin, and the Snubbie fell free.

Straw said, "Get his key. Get me out of these things."

Kenny s.n.a.t.c.hed up his gun and rolled b.u.t.ton onto his back as he searched for the keys.

The sun was so G.o.dd.a.m.ned bright and right in his eyes, but they were over him, Kenny uncuffing Straw.

b.u.t.ton said, "Pieces of s.h.i.+t."

Straw glanced down, letting b.u.t.ton see the fear in his eyes.

"They know, man. We're done."

"Don't panic. We're close."

"We gotta go. We're f.u.c.ked."

"No, we're not-"

Kenny pointed the gun straight down, blocking the sun, and b.u.t.ton stared into the tight black sphincter of its barrel.

"f.u.c.k you."

Then a gun went off, and b.u.t.ton thought he was dead, but Kenny staggered sideways and fell. His falling gun hit b.u.t.ton on the nose.

b.u.t.ton saw Futardo, face dripping red, leaning out her window as she struggled to fire again.

The fake Jack Straw calmly picked up Kenny's weapon, and shot her twice more through the gla.s.s.

b.u.t.ton tried to grab the man's legs, but his arms wouldn't move. He tried to shout for help, but all he managed was a bubbly grunt.

Then the fake Straw looked down at him again, aimed his weapon, and fired.

42.

This is Bill Rainey. You know me as Wilson Smith."

Pike cranked the Jeep, ready to roll.