14 - Too Much of a Coincidence

Besnik Dibra swore violently at the TV in the motel room that he had moved into two days earlier. The news that there was now a security detail on his target's home had him feeling somewhat exposed and he had now dyed his blonde hair a dark brown, quit shaving, and changed to another assumed name when he made the move to another cheap motel. His phone rang and once again he swore before answering yet another call from the man who was now his employer.

"What the hell did you do to clue him in?" Barkowski was speaking through clenched teeth. If he could lay hands on the hired assassin he would gladly strangle him.

"Nothing."

"Nothing is exactly what I'm not paying you for. I want action and I want it now!" He held the phone out as he screamed into it.

"I will do the job when the time and the place are right." He didn't raise his voice - he couldn't afford to draw attention to himself for any reason at all for fear of being found out.

"Maybe you need to make them right. Draw his ass out of hiding."

"I call my own shots."

"You do as you're told: make it happen - soon. Or else the shot will be called on you. A e kuptoni mua?"

"Yes, I understand you." He ended the call. Never before had he ever had so much trouble taking out a mark. Since the day he had seen Houston on horseback at the river's edge he had cursed himself. It could have been settled that day, very easily, and with no witnesses. All it would have taken was one shot. There was a cracking sound and a warm sensation went down his left wrist as the pieces of the bottle that he had been holding cut into his flesh. He swore again headed toward the room's sink, kicking the rusted and dented trash can out from under the vanity and dropping the remains of the beer container. Very carefully, he picked out a couple of shards of glass that had embedded themselves in his palm. "Stupid…" He couldn't make a trip to the ER - there would be too many questions. Once he was sure that he had all of the glass out, he rinsed the cuts for several minutes and then cracked open another beer and poured the alcohol over them, seething with pain and anger. Next he grabbed one of the towels that the overworked and underpaid housekeeper considered clean and wrapped it, raising his wounded hand into the air to stop the flow of blood. He needed real first aid supplies. Grabbing up the key off of the worn and dusty dresser, he left the room and went next door to the convenience store, buying the needed supplies plus another six pack. Back in the room he went about the task of cleaning the cuts again and applying ointment and bandages, all the while trying to come up with a plan.

Once patched up, he began pacing around the room, asking himself why he hadn't taken the shot that day on the river. He had looked like an ordinary guy out fishing. But the fish he was looking to land had gotten away because he had hesitated and then lost his nerve. Bad as he hated to admit it, Barkowski was right: he was going to have to find a way to draw the man out and at this point the weakest area in the Houston compound was in fact the last place he had seen him. It appeared that an approach from the waterway was his best option. But when? That was the question.

Matt awoke early Saturday morning from the recurring dream, noting that nothing new had been revealed to him. CJ's steady breathing as she lay with her head on his chest was something that he had missed the last few mornings. It had taken him quite a while the night before to convince her to get in the bed, that he wasn't in danger of snapping like a twig in a tornado. As he lay there in the predawn light he noticed that for the first time in ages he wasn't actually hurting so much as he was just sore and stiff. The plan for the day was for him to start moving more, and he could just imagine the hovering about that Madre Rosa would be doing. She was happier with more people to take care of, but he was worried. He got the impression that she thought that he was retiring because of the surgery. In a conversation between her and Catey Rose that centered around the new playground, the housekeeper had said something along the lines of "since you live here now". The last couple of days had given him time to think about his future. All the recent talk of retirement, of moving back to Texas permanently was obviously going to happen one day; on the other hand he had just spent a lot of time taking classes and getting on the job training for fire investigation. What sense did it make to get the certification and then just hang it uselessly on the wall? And as long as it had taken him to complete the training with various delays, it really wasn't fair to the Fire Marshal's Office.

No, he wasn't retiring just yet. But he was going to cut back on some of his commitments. And he had decided that one of them, strangely enough, was going to be his work with the FBI's Child Exploitation Task Force. He fully intended to share any pertinent information that he garnered with them, but their work with the group had been hit and miss at best. CJ had actually done more work with them than he had due to his involvement with the combat simulator. Although he thought highly of the team, his gut instincts were telling him that it just wasn't meant to be.

The recent problems with Derwin Dunlap were also bearing on him. He fully intended to see the combat simulator through to its conclusion and planned to spend part of the day talking with the computer genius, trying to work on the problems that they were having, most of which in his opinion stemmed from the lack of physical knowledge on Dunlap's part. He simply couldn't comprehend the physical and mental stress that the troops went through because it was something that he himself had never done. That was going to change as soon as Matt was cleared from his current medical limitations. Either Derwin would agree to leave his specifications in place or Houston would find a way to take control of BugBytes. It had been a long time since Matt had taken over a company and it wasn't really something that he wanted to do unnecessarily. Plus, it was sure to cause a rift between them in their business interests of Mosey Games. Regardless, things had to change.

CJ stirred slightly, a smile flitting across her face and bringing to mind their discussions about another baby. He was all for it. Both had agreed that they wanted a big family. The concerns that he had about the possibility of her conceiving twins again weren't deterring her a bit and they had decided the night before that when Doc Fitzpatrick cleared him they were ready to try. He smiled thinking about it, and then closed his eyes, hoping to get a little more sleep before starting the day.

6:00AM Los Angeles…

"But it's Saturday." Anne Hoyt was sitting up sleepily in her bed, watching as Michael stood in front of the mirror putting on his tie. "You haven't taken a day off in over a week. What in the world has you so worried?"

"It's just busy, honey. You know that." He had gotten home around nine o'clock the night before.

"Why don't you see if Houston will come back from Texas and help you out a little bit? I'm sure…" She watched as he vehemently shook his head. "Don't tell me you're mad at him again."

"No, of course not. He's busy working for the sheriff."

"Huh. Not according to Tamara Placer."

"Why do you watch that woman?" He turned to face her, slipping on his jacket.

"What else do I have to do? Kathy's gone all the time with her friends and you're always at work. Besides, she's good for a laugh. Oh, her latest now is that Houston has a security detail from the sheriff's office guarding the ranch - like he needs…" She paused, noting the worried look on Michael's face. "So that's what it is. Is someone shooting at him again?"

"Haven't you learned by now that you can't believe anything that woman says?"

"But the cameras have been showing patrol cars outside the gate." He turned back to the dresser and began putting items into his pockets. She watched as he pulled a roll of antacid tablets out of the dresser drawer. "Michael…" She crossed the room and took him by the hand. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Don't lie to me. Turn around here." He did and she looked into his tired eyes. "There's something going on with Houston, isn't there? Give me the truth." Again, he silently denied it. "Fine." She went to the closet. "I'll just call CJ later."

"He's recovering from back surgery. And yes - there is someone after him. And I think that he's based here in Los Angeles. But please don't say anything to anyone - anyone at all - including Kathy."

"Did he get hurt in that accident on the bridge?"

"Yes and no." He saw the exasperated look. "They think that it dislodged a bone fragment. But they can't figure where it came from."

"Is he okay?"

"He will be. Before they took him to surgery the other day he couldn't move his legs. He's back at home now - and yes he can move them." He saw the question forming before she had the chance to ask it. "Now - I've got to get going."

"Please be careful."

"I will. Love you." They shared a kiss and she watched as he quietly left the room, the sound of the car's engine fading away down the street a minute later.

Hoyt stepped off the elevator into the lobby of his fourth floor office and found Giovanni pouring a cup of coffee. "How did it go?"

She yawned. "Absolutely nothing. He stayed at his office until ten, went to a club until two, then back to his condo with some woman. Lee took over at six and he was still there."

"Do we know who the girl was?"

"No idea. I couldn't get a clear picture of her."

"Alright. Go home, get some rest."

"Maybe you should take your own advice. You look like hell." She saw the perturbed look. "Hey, I just call 'em like I see 'em."

He pointed to the elevator. "Go." Inside his office he glanced through the reports that had been left there by the night shift. Nothing much out of the ordinary, unfortunately. More people killing and maiming each other for no good reason. Rolling away from his desk, he walked over to the window and looked down at the cars below. Roy had called him the night before and given him an update on Matt. He thought that today would be a good time to bring him up to speed on what was happening in Los Angeles. Most likely he would be receiving a phone call from the Texan and he planned to ask for a favor.

Chuck sat down behind his desk and looked across at the other desk in the cubicle, the nameplate on it catching the light: Det. Sgt. Matt Houston. Although he now knew that his oldest and best friend was going to be alright, he wasn't sure what the future held for him. Doc Fitzpatrick seemed to think that he would make a complete recovery. But did that mean that he would be returning to HCSO? Did he really want to - considering the other problems that he was dealing with? Chuck knew that his old friend had pissed off a lot of people - some of them powerful. Donovan Lynch was the worst - that he knew of, and with Houston moving back and forth between Texas and California, he was sure that there were plenty that he didn't know about. Taking a sip of coffee he thought about some of what he had heard at the ranch about Matt being in Quantico. He didn't know much about the place other than the FBI was headquartered there and there was a heavy Navy and Marine presence. Houston had mentioned that he and CJ were working with a task force headed by the FBI. However the secrecy surrounding his phone call the day before and the fact that even CJ didn't know what Dunlap was in a twist over - led him to believe that it was in relation to the military.

"How's the patient?" Martinez's voice cut through his thoughts as she had a seat in the cubicle.

"Haven't talked to him or CJ so far today. But he was sure happy to get home."

"Good."

He looked to her. "I'm glad you put your foot down with him about seeing a doc. Thanks."

"I am, too." She nodded. "I just hope we can get him back." Both were quiet. "So we've gotten info back from Dallas, LA, and Chicago on three of the illegals. Have there been any others?"

"Let me check." He began going through his messages and emails. "Seattle. This one was a guy."

"Was as in dead?"

Chuck nodded as he swallowed more coffee. "Seems how we keep finding them."

"Not exactly the American dream is it?"

"No, ma'am."

Looking at her watch, she stood. "Gotta get back to it. Keep me posted."

"Yes, ma'am."

10:45 AM Houston

"Easy now." CJ felt herself holding her breath as Matt eased down into the recliner in the den. "Okay?"

"Yeah." He let out a big sigh and smiled. "Actually it's better than okay. Damn near perfect."

"Language." She gave him a disgruntled look, but couldn't be too angry with him. He had done everything that the therapist had asked of him that morning and was seemingly surpassing what had been expected of him. "Are you hurting?"

"Not really. Just kinda tired. Where's my phone?"

"In my pocket."

"I want to call Michael."

"You really ought to take it easy for a while."

"I don't think talking on the phone is going to be strenuous, Babe." He held out his hand.

"But you agree to stay put for a while, right?" She held the device just out of his reach.

He responded with the henpecked voice. "Yes, dear. Now gimme." Punching the cop's number he watched her leave the room. "Hey, Gramps."

"How's it going this morning?" Hoyt gratefully sat down behind his desk.

"Fine. Just got done with the physical therapy and made it to my recliner."

"Good. Wish I was in mine." The obvious weariness came through his voice.

"So tell me what happened - and don't give me that bull about the usual LA crazies again. Something is going on."

"Well…" Hoyt sipped on the bottle of water. "Yes, there is. Has Chuck mentioned that Gabby had a hit on one of the Chinese illegals?"

"No, but I haven't talked to him yet today. Guess you get the honor of telling me."

"Uh oh. Is CJ around?"

"From the sound of things she and the twins are having a discussion about flushing things that ought not be flushed. Guess they're a little advanced for their age. Catey was about two when she discovered that pastime." The chuckle that followed caused Hoyt to laugh.

"No doubt about it - they're your kids."

"Don't change the subject."

"I don't know if I should tell you just now. CJ might rather-"

"Just so we're clear here: the surgery was on my back - not my brain. Out with it."

"Is Roy around?"

"Don't make me turn on that camera in your office and eavesdrop, Michael." He did his best to keep the laughter out of his voice. He could just imagine the cop suddenly looking up at the light over his desk.

"Damn it, Houston! I want that thing out of here!"

"Can't do that right now. Doc won't let me climb a ladder. But I can hear details of a case." He couldn't help cracking up.

"You...you…" The spluttering noises he was making just caused more laughing on the other end of the call. "Oh, alright. Gabby had a call to a DB over on Naud. Seems to have been a body dump. Anyway, the girl was one of the Chinese illegals on the list that you and Chuck sent out."

"Small world we live in. She got any leads on it?"

"No. Other than the ID."

"What was the cause of death?"

"Exsanguination."

"And you said it was a body dump."

"Yep. She bled out somewhere else. Had several stab wounds, but a cut to her jugular was the one that did her in."

Matt waited. "And?"

"That's all we have on it. No other usable evidence at the scene, no witnesses, nothing."

"What else is going on?" He looked up as Roy entered the den.

"Oh, nothing much."

"I know better."

The elder Houston spoke up. "Is that Michael?"

"Yep, and he's holding out on me."

"Put it on speaker." He sat down on the couch to Matt's left. "Go ahead and tell him."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Remember I told you the other day that we had lost an undercover vice officer?"

"Uh huh."

"She had been planted at a strip joint owned by a guy named Vasil Barkowski. She was looking into the hiring of illegal aliens." There was a pause.

"Okay."

"Anyway, when she was found she had a broken wrist...and it looks like somebody strangled her...with one hand."

"One hand? Must've been King Kong."

"Tuesday morning while you were in surgery I got called out to the scene of a wreck on the Hollywood Freeway. Lieutenant Jessimina Valencia, of the Vice Squad was killed."

"And from the sound of your voice I'm guessing it was no accident."

"No. Somebody tossed a parking stop off an overpass and through her windshield."

"A parking stop? Those things weigh what? Every bit of two hundred fifty pounds?" He stopped. "Damn. So just maybe whatever giant killed the UC killed her boss, too?"

"That's what we're thinking."

Matt rubbed the back of his neck, trying to get rid of the feeling of his hair standing on end. "This Barkowski guy - what do you know about him?"

Michael took a deep breath before replying. "Besides the fact that he has a history of hiring illegals... he's from Albania."

"Son of a bitch." All three remained quiet as Matt thought it over. "That's too damn much of a coincidence. So what are your plans?"

"I've got Lee and Gabby keeping tabs on him. And I'd like to ask you for-"

"Y'all need the van. Go talk to Chris. She's got a set of keys to it."

"That's exactly what I was going to ask. Thanks."

"I'm guessing that you have them working in shifts?"

"I do. Lee is on right now."

"Alright. I'm going to call him right now. Then…" He started to move and remembered that he had promised CJ that he would stay put for a while. "Uncle Roy, would you bring my laptop in here, please?"

"Sure you're up to it?" The raised eyebrow look that he received brought a smile to his face and he nodded before getting up and heading to the study.

"Anything else you've been holding out on me about?" Matt returned his attention to the cop.

"We all thought it was best, Matt. You had enough to deal with. So how does it feel?"

"Truthfully? Like I've been poked and prodded. But the real hurt is gone." He dropped his voice. "I didn't realize just how much it had been hurting. It's like getting a second wind now that it's gone. The crazy thing is that we can't figure out where it came from."

"I'm just glad you had a good surgeon there to take care of it."

"Yeah, he's a good guy. Wasn't too sure about him but he and CJ and Carol were all friends at Harvard."

"See what you missed out on while you were in Iraq?" Hoyt laughed but noticed that his friend didn't. "You still there?"

"Yeah…" Houston sat there stunned for a minute. "And I think I may have just figured out where the fragment came from."

"Oh?"

"Iraq."