32 

BEAR PULLED UP at the Russian’s trailer, got out, and hammered on the door.

“What?” the Russian yelled.

“It’s Bear.”

“Come in!”

Bear walked in in time to see the Russian put away the snub-nosed .38 that he kept in his desk drawer.

“What the fuck you doing here?”

“They made me.”

“What do you mean, ‘they made you’?”

“They took two cars to work. I followed the first one, and the second one followed me. The guy pulled up next to me and took my picture. I lost him on Sunset.”

“He took your fucking picture?”

“Yeah, with his cell phone. I was in traffic—what did you want me to do, shoot him?”

“I rather you had shot yourself,” the Russian said disgustedly. He picked up the phone and dialed a number.

•   •   •

DAX ANSWERED.“YEAH?”

“You know who this is?”

“Yeah.”

“Bad news. Bear followed them, as usual, but the guy took a second car, pulled up next to him at a light, and took his picture.”

“Took his picture?” Dax bellowed.

“With a cell phone. What are your instructions?”

“First, shoot Bear, then shoot yourself.”

“We need Bear for later, and the guy did not take my picture.”

“Well, he already knows what you look like from Santa Fe, doesn’t he?”

“I was in a disguise,” the Russian said. “He don’t know me.”

“Okay, then you don’t have to shoot yourself. Put somebody else on following them.”

“I am running out of cars,” the Russian said. “What you want them followed for? They shouldn’t see us again until we take them. Then it don’t matter if they know Bear. We know where to find them when we want them.”

“You have a point,” Dax admitted.

“When you want to take them?”

“Soon. I’ll call you.” He hung up.

•   •   •

BAXTER’S INTERCOM BUZZED. “It’s Chita. Carlos Rivera from before is here. You want to see him?”

“Not really, but I’m not going to duck him. Send him in.”

•   •   •

RIVERA STOOD AND watched Chita look at him while she talked to Baxter. She was really something, this one.

She hung up. “Okay, he’ll see you.” She gave him a nice smile.

“Did you know that if you married me, you’d have the same name as that great dancer? Chita Rivera?”

She smiled again. “I saw her once. Go in, hurry.”

Rivera heard the lock on the office door click, and he went in.

“Detective Rivera,” Baxter said, rising and shaking his hand. “What can I do for you?”

Rivera sat down. “Mr. Baxter, I want you to know you have nothing to worry about.”

“Sergeant, I have ten thousand things to worry about, and that’s just today. Which one are you referring to?”

“In my investigation I have learned that an employee of yours was attacked in Santa Fe and seriously injured.”

Baxter’s smile disappeared. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Rivera made a placating motion with his hand. “It’s all right. For all practical purposes, I don’t know about it either. It happened in another jurisdiction, so it didn’t happen. We’ll keep everything quiet and between us. I just want you to know that you’re not in danger.”

“In danger from what?”

“From the man who injured your employee. We have you under surveillance, so if this Barnett guy makes a move, we’ll have an excuse to grab him.”

“You have me under surveillance?”

“Don’t worry, you’ll never see us, but for the time being, we’ll know where you are at every moment of the night and day.”

“Now listen . . .”

Rivera stood up and made the placating motion again. “Don’t worry, there will be no official record of this, it’s just between you and me. Thank you for your time, Mr. Baxter.” He turned and walked out of the room while Baxter was still sputtering.

Rivera stopped at Chita’s desk and leaned over. “I think you and I should have dinner,” he said. “Someplace nice.”

“What a good idea,” she said. “When?”

“Tonight?”

“I gave you my information last night,” she said. “What time?”

“I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“See you then.”

Rivera left the office and joined Joe Rossi in the car. “Mission accomplished,” he said.

“Which one, Baxter or the girl?”

“Both,” Rivera said. “Drive.”

“Where?”

“What do I care? Let’s get some lunch. You pick a place, I’ll buy.”

“Anyplace?”

“Within reason,” Rivera said. “I’m taking Chita to dinner tonight, so don’t go crazy.”

“A burger is good for me,” Rossi said, putting the car in gear. “Hey, is that the Porsche 969 over there?” He pointed at the executive parking lot as they passed.

“That’s it,” Rivera said. “I put a tracker on it earlier. The result of movement will be on my laptop or iPhone.”

“Good idea. Why don’t we go over there and put a dent in it.”

“That’s a great idea, Joe, but not yet. Right now we’ve got Baxter thinking he’s under twenty-four-hour surveillance. That’s good enough for now.”

“Is that what you told him? All we’ve got is you and me, you know.”

“I know that and you know that, but Baxter doesn’t.”

“I like your style, Carlos,” Rossi said.

“Lucky for me, so does Chita, I think.”

“Careful, Carlos, she looks like the marrying kind.”

“I already suggested to her that she ought to do that.”

“You’re kidding!”

Rivera shrugged. “What the hell, my ex-wife’s alimony payments ran out last month. I’m free as a bird, and my salary is all mine.”

“That’s a dangerous position to be in,” Rossi said. “Don’t make any mistakes.”

“I don’t plan to,” Rivera said.