Page 77 of Operation: Sharp Angel

“If you’re already a dead man, what does your help matter?” Jackson asked him.

“I want a deal in writing. That protection and no prosecution, full immunity. That’s the only way I cooperate,” Standish insisted.

“We’ll see what we can do,” Jackson said. Then they both left the room, leaving Standish sitting alone. His gaze darted all around the room.

“Now what?” Becca asked the other men.

“We let him sit and stew for a few hours while we go at the other two,” Flores said. “Robinson, you’re with me.” The two men left the room as Jackson and Tessman re-entered.

Tessman let his gaze flick momentarily to Becca. She avoided making eye contact with him. He figured that she was still processing what took place in the room with Standish. It hadn’t been too bad, not as bad as it could have gone. His guess was that the interrogation of the two men who’d confronted her in the parking lot would be a hell of a lot more violent. If he was right, they were paid muscle with no conscience.

Becca watched as Flores and Robinson entered the room of the man who’d been standing in front of her windshield, still sitting with the hood over his head. The monitor on the desktop now displayed that room. Flores ripped the hood from his face. Unlike Standish, this man didn’t look afraid in the slightest, Becca noticed.

“Only one of you is going to get the deal with Standish,” Flores said. “The question is, will it be you or your parking lot partner?”

The man didn’t reply, barely looked at either of the two men.

“Play it,” Flores said.

It only took Winston a few moments to isolate the exact parts of Standish’s recording. Then he played the audio into the room. First Standish’s phone call boomed through the room. Then Standish demanding a deal in writing.

“Did he call you or your partner? Or your boss?” Flores asked.

“You’ve searched me. Did you find a phone?” he taunted, knowing they had not.

They’d searched both men and found no phones, no IDs, just guns, Heckler and Koch .9mm on them both. They’d also ran both men’s prints. So far, nothing had come back from the quick search. Brielle was working on it from HQ. But no one thought IDs would be found, just like they had not gotten IDs on the two from the DeSoto house.

“Keep him talking. I recognize his voice!” Becca said.

“From where?” Tessman asked, his focus now on Becca.

She shook her head.

“Your partner asked for a lawyer. Do you want one as well?” Robinson asked.

The man chuckled. “Yeah, I’ll take a law-yer. Rebecca Elliot will do. I’m sure she’s behind the mirror.”

“He was in my sister’s house the night I was attacked in the closet. I recognize his voice and the way he said lawyer,” Becca said. “I’m sure of it.”

Everyone was still on comms. “Interesting request, given that you were there when your partner tried to kill her in the closet at her sister’s house a few nights ago. But you went out the back door when things got dicey,” Flores said. “Left the two others to die or be arrested.”

“You have an active imagination and no proof,” the man said. “I have rights. Now charge me or release me.”

“You’re assuming we’re the police,” Flores said with a laugh. “Or we give a shit about your rights.”

“Who called you and ordered you to go after Rebecca Elliot in the parking lot?” Robinson asked.

The man shrugged but didn’t speak.

“Let’s start with your name and who you work for, then?” Robinson then asked.

Still no answers from the man.

“Who’s in charge of this clusterfuck?” Flores asked. “Obviously something went sideways during this Op of yours.”

“What’s the big picture, or don’t you know? Foot soldier, I’d bet, not high enough on the food chain to have all the deets shared with you,” Robinson taunted.

Becca watched and listened. They weren’t getting anywhere. She wondered when they’d start beating on him.

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