"This isn't really a great time Sam. Doing favors for Card and working for Pierce so I can get Fiona out of jail is kind of taking up all of my time" said Michael in an annoyed tone as he walked with Sam over from the parking lot to the Carlito.
"Hey Mike, just hear him out, ok? He's a buddy of mine from back in the day. And this case he's talking about sounds like big potatoes. Something about a case against some hot shot mob boss out in California. It may just put another feather on the Michael Westen cap, give you some extra mojo when we try to fannagle Fi out of prison? Worst case scenario, we can point my buddy in the right direction. Now that's not too bad, is it?" said Sam, already swigging from a beer bottle even thought they hadn't even walked in to the Carlito yet.
Michael sighed. He was never one to just turn people away who needed help, but even for him there was only so much tap-dancing he could do at one time. This whole thing with Fiona had him on edge. Even after making sure she was safe in prison, there weren't many nights anymore when he slept well. He'd spend all his late waking hours trying to figure out how to best get Fi out of prison. Michael had drawn depressingly few viable options. Short of finding Anson Fullerton and getting him to confess to the whole embassy bombing thing there was very little he could realistically come up with to get Fiona out of prison... in a legal way. If Michael was honest with himself, he wasn't sure he would be able to get Fi out of this without both of them becoming fugitives for life.
"Sam, I don't know. Maybe I can hear him out. Point him in the right direction. Right now is just really not a good time for me to be taking new clients." Especially when he knew he'd find himself wishing Fi could be doing the job with him at least once every other minute.
"Well, I hope that 'maybe' is actually a 'yes', because my buddy is actually waiting for us inside."
Michael threw his head back with an exasperated sigh "Sam! I just wanted to come to the Carlito and talk about our next move with this Fi thing. I wasn't planning on meeting any clients or signing up for any jobs."
"Eeeeasy there Mikey. Look sorry to spring this on you, but I owe the guy and I'm just asking you to sit down with him and have a couple of beers. Hey, I'll even pay for lunch. How's that?"
Michael let out another semi dramatic sigh and relented, knowing at this point he wasn't going to win the argument. "Fine Sam, I'll hear him out. But I'm not taking the job. I'll just point him in the right direction, ok?"
"Hey, all right Mike. You're the boss" said Sam while raising his beer in thanks and giving one of his trademark Sam Axe grins.
"Let's just get this over with."
They walked in to the Carlito, and it didn't take long for Mike to ID the man that was probably Sam's friend with the problem he needed help with. Tall man, in his middle years and rail thin. By the look of his suit and the hostile glances he was giving most of the other customers Michael guessed he was probably not a regular to the Miami crowd. Everything about the man screamed "cop", from his cheap suit to the permanent suspicious scowl on his face to the lump beneath the jacket that Mike was pretty sure was a shoulder holster of the police issued kind. Since the suit was light brown and not black, probably not a fed.
No hard case Fed would ever be caught wearing anything but Washington black, after all.
The man stood when he spotted Sam as the two of them approached the table. He was tall, probably close to six and half feet.
"Hey, Carlton, how you been?" Said Sam enthusiastically as the two men shook hands. The cop smiled, though it looked to Michael like that wasn't something he got a lot of practice doing. It almost looked like it hurt his face.
"Sam, good to see you" replied the man Michael now knew as Carlton.
"Yeah, so let me introduce you, Carlton, this is Michael Westen my buddy that I told you about. Michael this is..."
"Head Detective Carlton Lassiter, Santa Barbara Police Department. How do you do." The man reached over and he and Michael shook hands. Michael noticed that there was no smile for him. Maybe there was something to his painful smiling idea after all.
"Great, nice to meet you" said Micheal with a smile and voice that felt a little forced. He really wasn't in the mood for this right now. The detective didn't pick up on it, but Sam gave him a sideways glance as they sat down.
"So," said Sam, getting right down to business, "what can we help you with Carlton?" He waved and asked the waitress for a mojito and a round of beers.
"Well," began Carlton "before I get started I just want to say that I am extremely uncomfortable involving a couple of civilians in this kind of sensitive situation. You haven't been in the line of duty in years. Who knows how badly your skills have degraded to the point of utter uselessness? Worst case scenario you might just muck everything up and get a whole bunch of people killed since you are just a couple of wash-outs. No offence Sam." He sounded like he thought he was being extra polite and diplomatic by adding that last bit on at the end.
Lassiter's little speech made Michael a little annoyed, but on the whole he found it kind of funny. He put a plastered smile on his face for the man.
"He's always been this charming Michael, don't take it personally. He's really a stand up guy, if somewhat lacking in the people skills department" said Sam as he finished off his beer.
"Trust me Carlton, we've kept plenty busy since we retired from government work" said Michael, leaving out the whole complicated mess about how he was for the most part back with the CIA, "now tell us, what seems to be the problem?"
Lassiter hesitated, then reluctantly began, "I'm here unofficially from the S.B.P.D. Though this whole idea of coming to you for help goes against every cop bone in my body, the fact is I trust Sam and the truth is things have gotten somewhat desperate. We don't know who to trust. We... need some help."
Carlton said it like he expected that revelation to be a big shocker. When he saw the two men across from him giving him steely gazes and taking it all in stride, the Head Detective felt both more reassured and uncomfortable at the same time.
"About a year ago" Lassiter began "the S.B.P.D started putting a case together against Martin de la Vega. You know who he is?"
"Yeah," said Sam, perking up "yeah, kind of a hot shot shadowy mobster out in California. Rumored to have his fingers in all sorts of criminal pies all throughout the state. I heard the Feds had a real hard-on for him for a while. But they never could make anything stick."
"Yeah that's about right," said Lassiter, "but the scope of that cockroach's influence is a bit bigger than that. In the past five years he's gotten more and more power throughout the state. He's been hitting his competitors, their distribution centers, top lieutenants, that type of thing. It was pretty clear when we started the investigation that he had made it so big he was getting a cut from pretty much all organized criminal activity in the state of California. Anyone who wasn't paying him off could expect to be hosed down with lead shortly. Vega was the undisputed kingpin of all California crime" Lassiter stopped to catch his breath and take a swig from the cold beer that had just arrived. "Damn, that's good. How do you people survive in this damn heat anyway?"
"Wait, was the undisputed kingpin in California?" asked Sam.
Carlton looked a little smug, "Vega was known to have crooked cops in his pocket in pretty much every major department in whole state. After an internal audit by the governor's office, it was decided that the S.B.P.D. was the one major department that probably didn't have any rats. Or it had fewer than anywhere else at any case. So I, as head detective, got to take the lead in a hush hush state wide investigation in to the criminal activities of one Martiiin de la Vega" Carlton was raising his eyebrows at the two other men and grinning, as if to say 'tell me you're not impressed'.
"By how happy you seem about the whole thing, I guess the investigation was a success" said Michael, finally starting to get a little interested in Lassiter's story.
"You bet your ass it was! Thanks to me, my partner and..." Lassiter's lip quivered with distaste, "a couple of consultants, we managed to put a case together that was a slam dunk to put Vega away for the rest of his pathetic, filthy, worthless criminal life."
"So what's the problem?" asked Sam.
"The problem is that we couldn't well hide the fact there was an investigation after we arrested him. After that, the sleazebag started using all his money, influence and dirty cops in his pocket to fight back. The original judge that was slated to take care of the case had a reputation for being incorruptible. He reported someone had tried to bribe him and he refused. A week later he 'slipped on the stairs' at his house and broke his neck."
"Jesus," said Sam, "placing hits on a judge? That's just stupid. This guy must really be desperate."
"Not when the coroner was some stooge from Sacramento who ruled the death an accident. That's where the trial is going to be held. Then when the DA requested a second opinion, paperwork 'accidentally' got mixed up and the body was cremated in the middle of the night before anyone else could take a look at it."
Michael was starting to get a bad feeling about this.
"A week after that," continued Lassiter, "one of our own officers in Santa Barbara went down to the evidence room with a soda can full of gas and torched a bunch of the physical evidence we had collected against Vega. It was dumb luck that officer MacNab wandered in when he did and stopped her from torching the whole evidence room down. Who would have guessed even our department was full of scum. She wont utter a word, and her lawyer fees are now being paid for by an anonymous and mysterious third party. How lucky for her is that?" he said with venom dripping from his voice.
Michael whispered to Sam "sounds like this guy Vega is well connected and not afraid to take risks to make this go away. Not someone who'd you want to take head on."
"Yeah, no kidding" said Sam, starting in on his mojito.
"Anyway, the long and short of it is this; after those incidents new precautions were taken and things seemed to calm down. Then out of nowhere some of the phone taps we have on his people picked up some chatter about some new guy el jefe hired to get him out of this mess. Whoever this joker is he seems to have dirt on just about every public official in the whole state. Some of the people pushing to nail this scumbag all of a sudden start to dig their heels in and try to get the whole thing derailed. For a while there it even looked like they would succeed" Lassiter was grinding his teeth the whole time he was saying this. That the man was upset would be like saying the center of the sun was warm.
"So where do we come in?" asked Michael.
"A lot of evidence was lost, but there is still enough to make a case. However for it to still be a sure slam dunk so we can get this degenerate off the streets we need the testimony of one of the investigators who worked the case with me. He was often in a unique position to observe the crimes in progress... he usually got there before anyone else along with his partner. According to the DA his testimony could be the most crucial and credible in this case."
"More so than yours Carlton?" asked Sam curiously.
"I've been known to... discharge my firearm... more than often than the 'state average', like that is a good measure to go by. So what if I enjoy discharging my firearm on a weekly to bi-weekly basis? Suspects don't respond to rainbows and lollipops last time I checked."
"Right," said Sam, "so you're the rouge cop, your partner probably gets painted with the same brush as you, so the only one the DA thinks will not have their credibility torn down in court is this private investigator. That about right?"
"Something like that" said Carlton. Michael could see him opening and closing his right hand. It gave him the distinct impression the man liked to go for his gun when he was upset.
"So let me guess," said Michael, "you need to keep this private investigator alive long enough to testify in court, but since really high profile people in the state government have been influenced by Vega and his new mystery information broker you can't be sure of his safety."
"That's right, Westen. So far two assistant DA's and a deputy police commissioner have been fired and if we're lucky will be charged soon for trying to sabotage this case. It makes it hard to know how to protect him. Him and his partner, though it's mostly his testomny that matters most. The governor doesn't want to get the Feds involved, so the S.B.P.D. needs to come up with some creative ways of keeping one of our own alive for the next four months. A lot can go wrong in that time."
"So what is this private investigator's name?" asked Sam.
Lassiter hesitated for a moment before answering. "Shawn Spencer" he said.
It looked like neither of them recognized the name. Carlton counted that as a small blessing.
"So, mind if a ask you a few things about the case?" asked Michael.
"If it's pertinent to keeping Spencer alive, I guess that's all right."
"Yeah, I understand. So, how exactly was it that this Shawn Spencer was always the first one at the scene before even the cops? Shouldn't he have had backup?"
"Well... he would figure out on his own where one of Vega's operations was. Then he and his partner Burton Guster would go there... alone... unsupervised... and try to steal all my thunder!" he slammed his beer bottle on the table as he said this, spilling some of the precious liquid.
"And get himself killed. Mikey, this Spencer guy sounds like he has a real deathwish. Could be hard keeping him safe. And how did HE figure out where the crimes were every time before the cops did?" asked Sam.
"It's his 'gift'. He tells everyone he's a psychic, though I'm on to him and know that he's full of crap."
Michael and Sam both sniggered. "So he's what?" asked Sam, "a Psychic Detective?" asked Sam with laughter creeping in to his voice.
This made Lassiter very cross. "Yes, dammit, he's a psychic detective all right? Look we're not stupid. His psychic nonsense may be a bunch of stupid mumbo-jumbo, but we keep him around because he's helped close nearly a hundred investigations, most of them homicides. And oh my God, did I just defend Shawn Spencer?" he asked himself in a moment of horror.
"And the DA thinks the jury will take this guy seriously?" asked Sam, still not completely over his snickering fit.
"He thinks the record will speak for itself. I hate to admit it, but he's got over a 99% track record in cracking cases. And he can be damn persuasive when he speaks straight and stops acting like a retarded third grader." There he was, defending Spencer again.
"Allright allright fine. We don't mean any harm Carlton, it was just a funny story. Hey, so any idea who this joker is giving your bad guy all this new dirt on California officials?
The CIA operative barely heard what Sam asked. Michael was glad to have a little laugh at the thought of a psychic detective, but thinking about laughing somehow morbidly made him think of how Fi probably wouldn't be doing much laughing as long as she was in prison, and how he couldn't share this light moment with her. He might never get to share lighthearted moments like this one with her ever again.
There was no way he was going to babysit some detective and his partner for four months. He was already thinking of maybe an out of state or international security firm to recommend. Even if Vega had ears on the ground internationally, setting up a cover ID for Spencer and Guster and shipping them off to England, then taking a boat under a different fake name to Australia or South Africa where they would be protected by a private security firm would throw off even most determined intelligence agencies. If only a couple of people knew in Santa Barbara the risk would be minimal. Even if one of them talked, the bad guys still had to go through a lot of manpower and a lot of international borders to get the two detectives. For the return trip, there were other security measures they could take. He thought the S.B.P.D. would be just fine on their own.
"We don't know Sam, the name came up only once because one of Vega's Lieutenants got sloppy. He wasn't supposed to even know the guy's name I think and it's just our luck he said it over a tapped line. Apparently in exchange for his information and help in making this case go away Vega is giving protection to this new piece of criminal refuse. They called him Mr. Fullerton, but it might be an alias since it didn't turn up on any of our criminal databases."
Sam and Michael froze. They were both extremely well trained, but they had let their guard down and had not been expecting to hear something so shocking.
"Wait, that's all they said? A Mr. Fullerton?" asked Sam.
Carlton was a detective, and a damn good one at that. He realized the name meant something important to these two. "OK, so spill it guys. Who is this lowlife? How do you know of him?"
Sam gave Michael a sideways glance. Michael returned it. There was an understanding between them after having worked together for so long. Even though they didn't like it, they would lie to Lassiter about it.
"When we were both on the inside and had access to classified data," began Michael "Fullerton was an alias of a well known international information broker. His specialty was getting dirt on just about anyone and selling that information. His MO was not to be the blackmailer, but to sell the blackmail material. Still, no one is sure what he looks like and he's never been caught. Don't go telling everyone though. Most things about Mr Fullerton are still classified."
A little light appeared in Carlton's eyes at the mention of the word 'classified' and Michael found it just a tad disturbing. "Classified, hugh? You mean like INTERPOL, international criminal rings?"
What the hell, thought Michael. Might as well play it up a little bit. "This is way above INTERPOL. More like eyes only top secret CIA information on a need-to-know basis. I've probably already said too much. We need you to keep your mouth shut on this one Lassiter. It's better for all of us."
"Oh don't you worry. I can keep a secret. And that information doesn't really help the case, so we'll just keep it between us, hey boys?" Carlton gave them a slow and deliberate wink. Sam and Michael shared a look that said 'oh brother'.
Sam started "So listen Carlton, there are some private security firms that..."
"I think what Sam is trying to say," said Michael cutting off Sam, "is that even private security firms can be compromised by this guy Fullerton. He's a master manipulator and can get dirt on just about anyone. You need to put these guys with someone you can trust. And you need to get them out of California, right now."
Carlton looked a little uncertain. "You sure? I mean all our resources are in California. There aren't really any people that I trust – that we trust – out of the state. Not with this. I wouldn't know where to begin."
Michael smiled a big Westen smile, and Sam was starting to feel decidedly uncomfortable. "You trust Sam don't you? You should bring them here to Miami. We have guy in a security firm who is one hundred percent trustworthy. Between Sam, myself and him we can keep them protected and below the radar until you are ready for your trial back home."
Carlton looked suspicious "And you'd do this, what, out of the goodness of your heart?"
"No, I was thinking more in the neighborhood of $150,000 for the three of us for four months. Plus a budget for expenses. But two of us are ex counter-intelligence and Sam here as you know is an ex navy seal. Fact is, Vega's whole network is in California. That's his kingdom, his fortress. You get them far away from California, his influence is substantially diminished. We can stash them and keep an eye on them. Anyone new starts making waves in Miami, we'll have our ear to the ground and have a good chance to see them coming. If not we could hold off an armored assault with a little preparation and get your people to safety. You need us Carlton. You have to trust somebody to keep your boys safe, and you're not going to find anyone better off the grid than us."
For a minute there Michael looked at Carlton with his most persuasive face on and though that maybe he had sold it too hard. Been too eager, which he had felt. But in the end it seemed that Lassiter was won over by his arguments.
"All right Westen. Sam vouched for you, and he's one of the few people I know that what he says is good enough to take to the bank. What do you think Sam? Is this the best plan?"
Sam took a long pull from his mojito to hide the face he was making at having to lie to his buddy for Mike. "Yeah Carlton. I think it's the best option you've got."
Carlton nodded and stood up. "I'll make the arrangements then. I'll just have to figure out how to get them to Miami fast without having to worry about their names going through all that airline ticket nonsense."
Michael smiled. "Don't worry Lassiter. We can arrange a flight for you with no names or questions asked. They'll get here safely." He was going to have to ask Pierce for a big favor.
The Head Detective looked suitably impressed. "All right then. It's been a pleasure. Sam. Michael." And then he was gone.