The Dawn Patrol by Don Winslow
Now nothing’s going to happen at all.
Not right now anyway.
“So what am I supposed to do?” Dan asks.
“Try using your head for a change,” Eddie says. His cellie goes off. “What?”
“Five-oh rolling up,” one of his guys in the other car says. “One cop, a Jap.”
“Time to take the party someplace other,” Eddie says.
The Hummer rolls out.
84
Johnny makes the Samoan gang bangers right away.
O’side—Samoan Lords—Tide’s old crew.
Which is interesting, what the hell High Tide has to do with all this. Johnny fronts one of the kids. “Call your matai. Tell him Johnny B. wants to go through and he’s not in the mood to take any shit.” The kid gets on the phone, talks in Samoan for a second, looks at Johnny with undisguised hostility, and says, “It’s cool.”
“Thanks so much.”
Johnny walks down the pier, goes to Boone’s cottage, and bangs on the door. “Boone, open the damn door! It’s Johnny!”
Boone opens the door.
“You’re a dick,” Johnny says.
“No argument.”
“You had a lot of people worried, Boone,” Johnny says. “I thought I was going to have to organize a paddle-out for you. You could have called your friends, let them know you’re okay.”
“I’m okay.”
“Does Sunny know?” Johnny asks. “That she doesn’t have to grieve for you?”
“She knows.”
“I guess Tide must have told her, huh?” Johnny says, gesturing generally to the gang bangers, who seem to have melted into the landscape.
“What do you mean?”
“The Samoan Lord bodyguards,” Johnny says.
“I thought they were Hawaiians,” Boone says, feeling stupid and ungrateful for thinking that Tide had sold him out.
“They all look alike to me, too,” Johnny says. “Can I come in, Boone? Or are you going to keep all your friends out in the cold?”
“You have a warrant?”
“Not yet,” Johnny says.
“Then I guess I’ll stand out in the cold with you.”
“So you have Tammy Roddick,” Johnny says.
Boone doesn’t answer.
“How did we end on different teams on this thing, B?” Johnny asks. “I don’t think we have divergent interests here. You want Roddick to testify against Dan Silver in a civil suit tomorrow morning. The SDPD could care less. We just want to talk to her about Angela Hart’s death. Hell, I’ll walk her to the courtroom myself.”
“If she was still alive.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Boone hesitates.
“You got something on your mind,” says Johnny, “say it.”
“Dan Silver got the word pretty fast that it was Angela and not Tammy dead at the motel, Johnny,” Boone says. “I’m worried he got it from cops.”
“Fuck you, Boone.”
“I didn’t say it was you, Johnny.”
“Fuck you, Boone,” Johnny says.
“Okay, fuck me.”
“You think it was Harrington?” asks Johnny. “He’s a lot of things, but he’s not dirty.”
Boone shrugs.
“Sanctimonious asshole,” Johnny says. “Only Boone Daniels knows the truth, because he walks on water.”
“Jesus, Johnny.”
“So to speak.”
“Can you protect her?” Boone asks.
“Can you?” Johnny asks. “I mean, you can in the short run, but what about after she testifies? Have you thought of that? You think Dan Silver’s just going to forget she just cost him a pile of money? You’re going to devote your life to protecting this girl?”
Boone’s thought about it. It’s a problem.
“It’s an insurance company, Boone,” Johnny says. “They’ve got lots of jangle; they can afford to take a hit. Roddick was right to run. I only wish she’d run farther, because the company doesn’t give a shit what happens to her after she lays it down for them, do they? Her only chance is if I put Dan in the hole, and that isn’t going to happen on the arson charge. But if she’s a witness on a capital case, I can protect her.”
“We each have jobs to do, Johnny.”
“So fuck Angela Hart, right?” Johnny says. “Tag it a suicide. Just another dead stripper. ‘No humans involved.’ ”
“She’s not my job.”
“No, she’s mine,” Johnny says. “Put your hands behind your back.”
“Really, Johnny?” Boone says.
“I have reason to believe that you are interfering with an ongoing investigation,” Johnny says. “I have reason to believe that you have knowledge material to at least one homicide investigation. I’ll get the warrant to search your place, but in the meantime, I’m taking you in on a vandalism charge.”
“Vandalism?”
“Pushing your van through a municipal guardrail,” Johnny says. “Causing a fire on a public beach.”
Boone turns around and puts his hands behind his back. Johnny gets his handcuffs out.
“Cuffs, John?”
“Hey, you want to act like a skell …”
“Is there a problem, Officer?”
A woman comes to the door. Dressed, sort of, in Boone’s clothes. Her hair is damp, as if she just came out of the shower. Johnny recognizes her as the woman Boone was with when he arrived at the Crest Motel, the woman who went over and looked at the body. Her accent is clearly English.
“Who are you?” Johnny asks.
“Petra Hall, attorney-at-law.”
Johnny laughs. “Boone’s lawyer?”
“Among other things, yes.”
From the looks of her, Johnny has a good idea about what the “other things” are. It’s unlike Boone to sleep with clients, but it’s hard to blame him in this case. The woman is a stunner, and the voice and the accent are … Well, it’s hard to blame him.
“Sorry, Boone,” she says now, “but I couldn’t help but overhear a bit of your conversation. I don’t know what you think you saw, Officer—”
“Detective,” Johnny says.
“Sorry, Detective,” Petra says, “but I can assure you that Mr. Daniels was not on any beach tonight. I can … quite personally … vouch for the fact that he’s been snug and warm right here all evening. As for removing Mr. Daniels in handcuffs, I can also assure you that my client will have nothing further to say, that, based on my representations, you no longer have a justification for detaining him, and that, if you do so, I will have a writ of habeas corpus awaiting you when you arrive at what I believe you refer to, somewhat quaintly, as ‘the house.’ Release my client, Detective, immediately.”
Johnny lowers the handcuffs and clips them back on his belt. “Hiding behind women, now, B?”
Boone turns around to look at him. “I’ve evolved.”
“Apparently,” Johnny says. He looks at Petra. “Tell your ‘client’ that I’ll be back with the appropriate paper. Advise him not to go anywhere, Counselor, and I suggest you further advise him that he’s risking his PI card with this bullshit. And on the topic of ‘cards,’ I’m sure you know that any attorney, as an officer of the court, who lies to the police in the course of an ongoing investigation—”
“I know the law, Detective.”
“So do I, Counselor,” Johnny says. He looks at Boone, “I’ll be back with a warrant.”
“You do what you have to do, Johnny.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Johnny says. “I’m glad you’re alive, Boone. But you’re riding this one all wrong, selling out for an insurance company. It’s turning you into a real jerk.”
He turns and walks down the pier.
Boone watches him go.
Wondering if he’ll have any friends when this is over. This case is tearing The Dawn Patrol apart, Boone thinks, and he doesn’t know if they’ll ever be able to put it back together again.
85
Teddy
Trips, falls, picks himself up, and pushes toward the light of a small campfire in the clearing in front of the little caves.
He’s greeted with a shotgun. A teenage boy grabs a machete and gets up. The old man just sits by the fire and looks up at him. Then the man with the shotgun sees Teddy’s face and lowers the barrel. “Doctor …”
“¿Tomas, dónde está Luce?” Teddy asks.
“Gone. With the others,” Tomas says.
“¿Dónde la encuentro?” Teddy asks. Where do I find her? He’s learned a little Spanglish in his days in the reeds.
“You don’t.” The guy learned a little English from his days in the reeds.
Teddy sits down heavily in the dirt and puts his head in his hands.
“A madrugada,” Tomas says.
Wait until dawn.
86
Boone stands with one foot on the railing and looks out at the ocean.
Might as well be out in the open. There’s no real danger now—Tide’s crew has the pier covered. Red Eddie would never try to go through them, and he wouldn’t let Dan Silver do it, either.
Johnny B. has gone to try to find a judge in the middle of the night—good luck with that—but has called a black-and-white, which is parked at the end of the pier. Maybe Johnny was right, Boone thinks. Maybe I am becoming an asshole. Just look at what I thought about Tide, that he sold me out to Red Eddie.
A total asshole thing to think.
Johnny was right about something else: Tammy Roddick is a dead woman if she testifies. If they can’t kill her to prevent it, they’ll kill her to avenge it. And I should have thought of that. Would have thought of it if I wasn’t so busy proving to Pete what a hotshot PI I am.
Asshole.
He stares out at the ocean, the whitecaps barely visible in the fog and faint moonlight. The ocean is ripping, getting itself geared up for the big party.
Petra comes up behind him.
“Am I intruding?” she asks. “I mean, any more than usual?”
“No, no more than usual.”
She stands next to him. “Is your swell coming in?”
“Yup.”
“You’ll be able to catch it now.”
“Yup.”
“I thought that would make you happy,” she says.
“I thought it would, too,” Boone replies. “You know what the best thing is about a wave?”
“No.”
“A wave,” Boone says, “puts you in your exact place in the universe. Say you’re just all full of yourself, you think you’re the king of the world, and you go out, and then this wave just slams you—picks you up, throws you down, rolls you, scrapes you along the bottom, and holds you there for a while. Like it’s God saying, ‘Listen, speck, when I let you back up, take a gulp of air, and step away from yourself a little bit.’ Or say you’re really low; you go out and you’re feeling like crap, like’s there’s not a place for you in the world. You go out there, and the ocean gives you this sweet ride, like it’s all just for you, you know? And that’s God saying, ‘Welcome, son, it’s for you and it’s all good.’ A wave always gives you what you need.”
It’s cold out. She leans into him. He doesn’t move away. A few seconds later, he puts his arm around her shoulders and pulls her tighter.
“I’ve been thinking about it,” she says.
“About what?”
“About what your detective friend said,” Petra says, “about not being able to protect Tammy. We should let her go, help her disappear, and God bless.”
Boone’s shocked. This isn’t the ambitious, career-oriented, ruthless lawyer talking.
“What about your case?” he asks. “Making partner?”
“It’s not worth another life,” Petra says. “Not hers, not yours. Let it go.”
He loves her for saying it, thinks a whole lot more of her that she made the offer. A totally cool, compassionate thing to do. But he says, “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“It’s too late,” Boone says. “A woman’s been killed, and someone has to do something about that. And …”
“What?”
“There’s something else,” Boone says. “Something that’s not making sense. Something’s really wrong here and I can’t figure it out. I just know I can’t let it go until I do.”
“Boone—”
“Let it go, Pete,” he says. “We have to ride this wave out.”
“Do we?”
“Yeah.”
Boone leans down and kisses her. Her lips are a surprise, soft and fluttering under his. Nice, more passionate than he would have thought.
He breaks off the kiss.
“What?” she asks.
“I have to go see someone.”
“Now?”
“Yeah,” Boone says. “Right now. You’ll be safe. Tide’s guys are all over it and there’s a cop over there. Just lie low and I’ll be back.”
He starts to go, then comes back and says, “Uh, Pete. I liked the kiss.”
So did I, she thinks as Boone disappears into the mist. Actually, I wanted more. But whom could he be going to see at this time of night?
87
“Daniels is here?” Danny asks.
“Make yourself gone,” Red Eddie says.
Shouldn’t be a problem—Eddie’s house has, like, eight bedrooms. But Danny doesn’t move. Instead, he says, “Do him.”
“Did you just give me an order?” Eddie asks.
“No,” Danny says. “It was more of a … suggestion.”
“Well I ‘suggestion’ you get your fat ass somewhere else,” Eddie says, “before I remember how much aggro you’ve caused me and turn you into a supersize dog biscuit, you dumb, wrong woman–killing fuck.”
Eddie’s a little irritable.
Danny withdraws.
“Let him in,” Eddie says to the hui guy. “Don’t keep him waiting.”
Boone comes in, steps down into the sunken living room. The air reeks of dope—very rich, expensive dope. Eddie is wearing an imperial purple silk robe, black sweatpants, and a black beanie.
“Boone Dawg!” he hollers. “What brings you to my crib?”
“Sorry it’s so late.”
“The aloha mat is always out for you,” Eddie says, proffering a joint. “A taste?”
“I’m good.”
“I am surprised to see you, Boone Dawg,” Eddie says. He lights the joint again and takes a hit.
“You mean you’re surprised to see me alive,” Boone says.
“If I wanted you dead,” Eddie says, “you’d be dead. In fact, I laid down very specific rules of engagement to our friend Danny; to wit, Boone Daniels is to be considered a civilian, a big red cross flying over his head, not to be touched.”
“I was shot at,” Boone says.
“And missed,” Eddie replies. “You want some Cap’n Crunch?”
“Yeah.”
“Crunch!” Eddie yells. “Two bowls! And open some fresh fucking milk!”
He looks at Boone and shakes his head. “Entourages these days, you have to tell them everything.”
He gestures for Boone to sit down in a chair shaped like a palm frond in front of an enormous flat-screen plasma TV showing The Searchers. A minute later, a hui guy comes in with two bowls of cereal and hands one to Boone. Eddie digs in like he hasn’t eaten since he was in seventh grade.
“This is good,” Boone says.
“It’s Crunch,” Eddie says, putting the DVD on pause. “So, Boone-ba-ba-doone, what do you want?”
“Anything in this world.”
“That’s a little vague, bruddah.”
“ ‘Anything in this world,’ ” Boone repeats. “Remember?”
“Riiiiight,” Eddie says. He sets the bowl in his lap and opens his hands wide. “Anything in this world. What is it you want?”
“Tammy Roddick’s life.”
“Oh, Boone.”
“She testifies and she walks,” Boone
“I take you to Cartier,” Eddie says, “and you choose a Timex. I offer you any car on the lot, you pick out a Hyundai. I sit you down at Lutèce, you order a burger and fries. You’re selling yourself cheap, Dawgie Boo, cashing in this chip for a stripper.”
“It’s my chip,” Boone says.
“It is, it is,” Eddie says. “You sure about this, bro?”
Boone nods.
“Because you are my friend, Boone,” Eddie says. “You gave me back the most precious thing in my life and you are my friend. I’d give you anything. You want the house next door? Yours. You want this house? I move out tonight; you move in. So as your friend, Boone, I’m begging you, don’t waste this gift. Please, brah, don’t throw my generosity away on some cheap gash.”
“It’s what I want.”
Eddie shrugs. “Done. I won’t lay a hand on the bitch.”
“Thank you,” Boone says. “Mahalo.”
“You know this is going to cost me.”
“I know,” Boone says.
“And it means I’m throwing Danny to the sharks.”
“You leave him to his own karma,” Boone says.
“One way of looking at it.”
Boone asks, “Did you have that woman killed, Eddie?”
“No.”
“Truth?”
Eddie looks him square in the eye. “On the life of my son.”
“Okay.”
“We good?”
“We’re good.”
“More Crunch?”
“No, I’d better get going,” Boone says. Then: “I dunno, what the hell, why not.”
“More Crunch!” Eddie yells. “You ever see The Searchers in high-def?”
“No.”
“Me, neither,” Eddie says. “I mean, I’ve never seen it all.”
Eddie hits some buttons on the remote and the DVD comes back on. The image is so good, it almost feels like John Wayne is real.