Chapter 4

Leverage

It was a beautiful, bright Monday morning in San Francisco, with no clouds in the sky. The sun had burned off the mist from the bay, and the temperature had been slowly rising. It was a good day to be out in the city, not shut up inside. And Sergeant Ed Brown had been very glad to get out of Ironside's office. In fact, he'd jumped at the suggestion of meeting Brant, as the tension was getting increasingly claustrophobic with the McDonald case coming to court so soon.

Even with chasing a dead-end lead, it was still a good day. Brant hadn't shown, in spite of his clear message that he would, but Ed had decided to wait for a while extra, just in case, partly to be thorough, but partly to avoid having to go back to Headquarters too soon. Eve hadn't disagreed, and they had spent a surprisingly pleasant three quarters of an hour with Brant's landlady, one Mrs Whittaker, the owner of the Bayside Motel.

Now the peaceful morning was virtually over and, after having had as much weak tea and chit chat as he could stand, it was time to go back to the lion's den and face the Chief. Side by side with Officer Whitfield, they walked down the narrow, stone path back towards their car, the prospect of heading back to the office weighing heavily on his mind.

'Well, that was a productive waste of a morning,' said Eve. 'If only all police work was as enjoyable.'

'You wouldn't say that if you'd had any of her cakes,' replied Ed.

'That's because I'm not greedy, like you.'

'I was being polite.'

His black Ford Galaxie was just ahead of them, wisely parked in the shade of a large tree.

'But I wonder why he didn't show,' said Brown, changing the subject. 'Brant's usually so reliable. And it was an odd place for a meet.'

'Maybe he likes tea and cakes,' suggested Eve lightly. 'You did.'

Ed smiled at her, thinking what a good mood she was in. She had been like that for weeks, since the chance meeting with her ex-fiancée a few months ago. He didn't want to pry into her private life, but he knew she was happier than he'd seen her in a long time. He suspected that there was a certain special something that she wasn't telling them about her relationship with Scott Bradley, and again he wondered how much longer she could keep it a secret.

'You know,' said Eve as they came to the car. 'I think she's waving at you.' Ed turned to glance round, back to the Motel, the way Eve was facing. Sure enough, Mrs Whittaker was there, waving through one of the upstairs windows. Eve had moved round to the passenger side of the car, and leaned forward across the top slightly, still grinning with a slightly mischievous air.

'I think she likes you,' added Eve.

Ed grinned back.

'Such a shame I can't stay, but duty calls.' He opened his door, leaning against the frame of the car, copying Eve's posture.

'Even with the Chief in a mood?'

'Even with the Chief in a mood,' he said.

They stared at each other, and he knew she was waiting to add something else.

'So can we stop for lunch?' she said.

'Lunch?' Ed checked his watch. It had just gone twelve. 'A little early for lunch. The Chief wants us back and we've wasted about as much time as we dare. He's got that meeting with the Commissioner at two. We'll have to be ready for it.'

'Oh, come on Ed, don't be such a spoilsport! Ernie's is just down the block. What would you say to some salmon parfait? Scott and I were there yesterday and it was delicious. The Chief will never know.'

Eve sometimes just couldn't help herself. Ernie's was the biggest most prestigious restaurant this side of the Bay, the place to see and be seen. No wonder Scott Bradley had taken her there.

'I'm not as rich as Mr Bradley,' he said. He saw her smile widen in delight as he said the name. 'So who's going to pay?'

'You are, of course! You wouldn't let a lady pay for lunch, would you?'

'In that case we're going to get a hotdog. That's all I can afford.'

Eve pouted and ducked into the car.

Ed slid into the driver's seat, noticing it felt slightly odd, as if it had been pulled too far forward. He wriggled, trying to get comfortable, pushing against the wheel to try and settle. It didn't work.

'But you know what hotdogs do to a girl's figure,' Eve was saying with mock seriousness. 'You'll have to get me a sandwich. Tuna on rye.'

'We're not going to stop for lunch.'

'But I'm hungry,' said Eve in a reasonable tone. 'The Chief's not going to ball us out for that. Just because we're the police doesn't mean we don't get to eat.'

Ed was just about to tell her that she should have tried one of Mrs Whittaker's cakes to keep her going until they got chilli at the Chief's, when there was a click by his ear. Though under other circumstances he would have moved, he didn't. He recognised the sound. It was the click of a gun.

After a moment, he shifted his gaze very slightly, looking towards Eve out of the corner of his eye. The relaxed smile and laughter had gone from her face, now her mouth was half-open in an "o" of surprise. Nestled at the back of her neck was the clear profile of a Colt handgun. Two guns, that meant two gunmen. They stayed perfectly still.

'Very good,' said a voice from behind Ed. The voice was male, with a clear, educated, California accent, but he didn't recognise it. 'That's very, very good. No panic, no stupid moves. I would have hated this to end prematurely.'

They were at a serious disadvantage, there was no disputing that. Ed's instinct screamed at him to react, to do something, but for all the calculating chances and measuring odds, Ed knew that his best chance to get him and Eve out of this alive was to play along, for now.

But he had to try something, just to get some sort of reaction and to help him gauge the situation, to find out if the men were pros or amateurs. He tried to lift one of his hands off the wheel, but the gun by his ear pressed hard against his head.

'No, leave them there, where I can see them.'

He tightened his grip on the wheel, trying to keep calm. Whoever it was behind them was taking no chances.

'Let me be clear,' said the man. 'I would prefer not to shoot you, but if I must, I must. Do you understand?'

Ed nodded. Eve did too.

'Good. First things first, Sergeant Brown…' Ed caught his breath at the use of his name. This was no ordinary hit, this was planned. They knew who they were! '…you will remain perfectly still. Miss Whitfield, you will remove Brown's gun from his belt.'

Eve nodded and jerked forward nervously, banging her hand on the dashboard.

'But slowly,' the voice reminded her. 'You wouldn't want me to get the wrong idea.'

More carefully, Eve reached across, threading her arm between Ed and the steering column, and he felt her fumble with the catch on his holster. He could hear her shallow breathing, he could feel the shake of her hand against his shirt, but her face showed none of the fear she must be experiencing.

She pulled the gun free and, as she moved back, she looked up at Ed, her eyes full of the hidden terror she didn't dare show. He wanted to say something to reassure her, but there was nothing he could say that would help.

'Now, Miss Whitfield,' the voice said. 'Put that gun in your bag with your own, and slowly pass it over your shoulder, back to me.' Eve obeyed.

There was silence for a few moments, and Ed stared hard at his whitened knuckles as he gripped the steering wheel, trying to concentrate rather than panic. His instinct was telling him this wasn't a robbery, or a carjacking or straightforward kidnapping, this was something much more dangerous.

In the circumstances there wasn't much he could do. He had to treat this like any other kidnap attempt; the cardinal rule was not to endanger the victims.

There was a shuffling, rummaging noise, as if the man was rifling through Eve's purse. Suddenly, it stopped.

'Now,' said the voice. 'You are going to call in to the Chief's office, Sergeant Brown. You will tell him that you are on your way back now, and that's all. I want it short, and simple, and totally natural. Do you understand?'

'Yes,' Ed replied evenly.

'Any hint that anything is amiss, and we will pull these triggers, no second chances. Do you understand that too?'

'Yes,' he said again. There was a cold, calculating calmness about the voice and Ed was convinced that this man meant what he said.

Ed picked up the car-phone, and dialled. Part of him, a large part, wanted to try and get a message to Ironside. But he didn't dare, not like this, he'd had no time to think it through carefully and to work out what he could say. And there was no way he could risk doing anything that could endanger Eve. Ed frowned at the thought. He had the unpleasant feeling that was the point.

At the other end, the phone lifted up.

'Ironside.' The Chief sounded irritable. Under other circumstances, Ed would maybe have made a small joke, but the last thing he felt like doing just now was kidding around.

'Hi Chief,' he said.

'Where the blazes are you two?' the Chief thundered down the phone. 'You're supposed to be here. We have work to do, you know.'

'We're on our way back now,' said Ed, knowing that wasn't true. He had no idea where they were going. The gun was pressed hard against the base of his skull.

'What about Brant?'

'He was a no show, Chief,' Ed replied. Ironside grunted.

'Typical! Well, get yourselves back here right away. And tell Eve she can't stop at Ernie's!'

Ed didn't even have the chance to say goodbye before the line went dead. He breathed out very slowly, an uncomfortable feeling of guilt creeping over him.

'That was very good as well,' said the voice. 'But the Chief didn't sound in such a happy mood.'

Ed pursed his lips, biting back the cynical comment. Getting them mad wasn't going to help.

'All right. Next, Sergeant Brown, you will empty your pockets,' the man told him. 'Completely.'

Ed did as he was asked, removing the small Swiss Army knife he carried, all his small change and his house keys from his pants and his cuff key, his badge, pen and the notebook from his jacket, and handed them over.

'And I'll have your handcuffs too,' said the man.

Slowly, keeping one hand on the wheel, Ed leaned forward and pulled the cuffs free from their catch at the back of he belt and passed them back over his shoulder, not turning round.

'That's good. Now Sergeant Brown, you and I are going to step out of the car for a moment. And do I really need to say what will happen if you do anything thoughtless?'

Ed hesitated, but eventually shook his head. What could he do anyway? He couldn't run off without Eve?

'You will get out and stand next to the hood. We need a little talk, just to be clear about a few things.'

Slowly, Ed got out of the car, taking a surreptitious glance behind Eve, to see what the other gunman was like. He got a fleeting impression of a thick-set man, dressed in dark clothes.

The other man got out of the car behind him, and they walked round the open door to the hood.

Ed turned to face his assailant. He was about fifty and tall, tall enough for Ed, at six foot two, to have to look up slightly. He was heavily built, but strong rather than fat, and dressed in a dark blue suit, with a dark shirt and tie. He looked nothing like a mugger, a robber or a kidnapper. Instead, the man looked like a businessman, smart and highly intelligent. Ed knew his instinct was right on the money, though he was not pleased about being right. This was no ordinary carjacking.

The man took a deliberate step forward, standing far too close for Ed to be comfortable with. He had the urge to move back, but he forced himself to stay still.

'Do you know who I am?' the man asked, his tone friendly and conversational, as if they were talking about the football scores.

Ed shook his head. He did look familiar, though, but Ed couldn't place the face.

'I'm Richards, Anthony Richards. Tony R, I was often called. I think you might have heard of me.'

'Oh…' murmured Ed. He swayed, a wave of panic leaving him feeling light-headed. The Chief had spoken a number of times about Tony R, and all of it was very, very, very bad.

'I see you have,' said Richards with a grin. 'How gratifying that Robert hasn't forgotten about me.'

It would take a very, very long time for the Chief to forget Anthony Richards, Ed knew. He was once a well-known criminal around the Bay area, cunning, brilliant, ruthless. He'd run part of the Syndicate for three years, and the city lived in fear, until a certain young lieutenant named Ironside had been able to do something about it. The outcome had become almost legendary, but in the mess that followed, the rest of the Richards family was killed. Anthony Richards was supposed to have been killed too. But that little detail was wrong.

'You know my reputation, do you not? Your boss must surely have mentioned it?'

'Yes,' Ed managed to say. Some said ruthless, some said vicious, some said cruel, but it was all about the same to Ed Brown at that moment.

'Well, I can assure you my reputation has not mellowed over the years while I was dead to the police,' Richards said with a depreciating smile. He leaned forward, looking down on Ed, a position that Ed was not used to. 'And you, young man, are going to do exactly as I say. Do you understand?'

With as much of a deep breath as he could manage, Ed looked straight back at Richards, staring into cold, brown eyes.

'Why should I?' Ed had to bunch his fists to steady himself to answer back. He was treading on very, very dangerous ground. Richards gave a mirthless smile.

'You mean apart from the fact I have a gun?'

'Yes.'

Richards shook his head with a light laugh that sent a cold spike of fear down Ed's spine. Richards took another step forward, so they were only a foot apart. Ed didn't dare move.

'You young policemen, you think you know everything. But since you didn't recognise me at first I don't suppose you recognised my friend in the car.'

Ed hadn't got a clear look at the man, but there was nothing familiar about him.

'No, I don't,' he said.

'He was once well known, just by the name Lonnie. A nice enough man to talk to, very good at cards, that's one of his few virtues. But, you see, he doesn't like that many people. And he doesn't like women. He assaults them. With a knife. Causes them a lot of pain, he's good at that too. Then he kills them.'

That turn of phrase struck a particularly harsh chord inside Ed, the incident with Tom Dayton still fresh in his memory. There wasn't a day that passed when he didn't think about his dead fiancée, and what might have been. He suddenly realised he was shaking.

Richards nodded, seeing Ed understood.

'I'll be clear, Ed,' Richards said in a low voice that suddenly sounded anything but friendly and conversational. 'If you do anything, anything at all against my wishes, I will personally make sure you are alive long enough to hear every single one of her screams. And my friend in there can make them last a very, very long time.'

Then, just to make sure Ed was in no doubt, Richards told him exactly how, and spared no details. Hardened policeman though he was, Ed struggled to keep his composure. After just a minute of the sickening speech, Ed had to turn away.

'I see you understand,' said Richards. 'Understand this as well. The outcome is entirely in your hands, Sergeant Brown. Personally, I have no desire to see anything unpleasant happen to so beautiful a lady, especially not one that the Chief admires so much.'

At that last line, Ed felt as though he'd been punched in the gut. That was the real twist of the knife. The Chief…

'You will get in the car, and you will do exactly as I say,' Richards told him. 'Do you understand?'

Ed let his gaze drop to the ground. It was all very clever, no loopholes. He'd been completely out-manoeuvred and could see no way out. How had he let this happen? He was supposed to be a good cop. How could he have let this happen?

Sick all the way through to his heart, Ed nodded.

In an affable, almost caring way, Richards took Ed's arm and helped him back to the car.

'Oh,' added Richards, 'I don't think there is any need to worry Miss Whitfield at the moment, by telling what I've just said, especially about Lonnie. Do you?'

Ed shook his head. He wasn't going to tell anyone, he didn't think he'd ever be able to form the words ever to repeat what he'd just heard. Especially about Lonnie.

As he got back into his seat, he looked towards Eve. Behind her, the other man had his gun pushed against her head with one hand, the other was gently brushing the curl of her blonde hair at the nape of her neck. Richards' words echoed loudly in his head.

He knew there was nothing else he could do. Richards said drive, and he drove.

They went straight to the Property Office. All the time, he could see Richards watching him in the rear-view mirror. He never took his eyes off Ed as the car weaved its way through the streets.

They pulled over close to the Property entrance. It was quiet, it was lunchtime and there were very few people around.

'There is something in there that I want,' Richards said. He handed Ed an open envelope, and let him take out a piece of folded paper from inside. 'All the documentation is in order, I can assure you. Bring back the package. And don't take longer than three minutes.'

He had no time to think it through. He couldn't risk not doing what Richards wanted.

'Ed!' said Eve, speaking for the first time. 'Ed, you can't!'

'But he is going to,' said Richards. 'Oh, and I should warn you now that the Officer on duty is called Johnston. You know him?' Ed nodded. 'So do I. And he's expecting you.'

The implication was clear. Johnston was in on this. If Ed tried anything clever, Richards would know. He'd been out-manoeuvred again.

'The three minutes is already counting down.'

Filed with impotent anger, Ed got out of the car, slamming the door on the way, and ran up to the Property Office. Sure enough Johnston was there and Ed swore to himself. The risk was too high. He just had to hope the Chief would come to understand, it was too great a risk to take, for Eve's sake.

He handed over the paper with a perfunctory greeting, and waited while Johnston went to collect whatever it was. He was only gone for a few seconds, as if the package itself had been prepared. Ed glared at Johnston when he came back, but the other officer didn't appear to notice.

The package was medium large and heavy for its size, and Ed had no idea what could be inside, the papers only showed the box and requisition numbers. But he did see Ironside's signature on the form. It was a fake, obviously, but a good one.

'Sign here,' said Johnston, pointing at the bottom line.

Ed didn't move.

'I don't have a pen,' he admitted.

'You detectives!' said Johnston. 'What would you do without us patrolmen?'

He handed over a cheap pen, and Ed signed the form, his signature looking slightly more indistinct than usual. Then he picked up the package and tucked it under his arm. Just as he was about to leave, Johnston beckoned him forward. The light smile was gone.

'Tell him "weather".'

For a moment, Ed stared.

'You'd better get going. You don't keep a man like that waiting.'

Ed glanced sharply down at his watch. Richards had said three minutes, this had taken almost that long already. Ed held the package firmly and darted out the door.

He was back at the car slightly out of breath, relieved to see that no one had moved, and Eve was still in the front, watching him with a confusing air of accusation and anxiety.

Ed passed the package over to her and got back into the car. She sat with it on her lap, looking down, not wanting to make eye contact. He could take a pretty good guess at what she was thinking, judging by her attitude. Maybe Richards had said something to her while he was away. Ed certainly wouldn't have put it past him.

'So, how was Officer Johnston?' asked Richards.

Ed looked away, not wanting to answer. He hated feeling like this, like a pawn in a bigger game. He hated not being in control.

'Did Officer Johnston say anything?' prompted Richards.

This time, Ed knew there was no point in prevaricating. It was clearly a code.

'Weather,' he said.

Richard broke into a smile that spread across his face like a grimace.

'Well done, Sergeant Brown!' he said. 'We'll make a conspirator of you yet!'

At the word, Eve turned to glare at him, angry accusation written all over her face. Ed stared blankly back. He'd never felt so completely out of his depth before.

'Let's go,' said Richards.

They drove again heading across the city, away from the centre, and Ed could feel the enmity radiating off Eve. He couldn't blame her, and there were no guarantees, Ed knew that. But he believed Richards would do exactly as he threatened if either one of them stepped out of line.

Knowing that, it was clear that he and Eve had only one chance: He had to do as Richards said and keep them both alive long enough for the Chief to help them.