Killer Karma

28

To Gina the reception area must have seemed filled with cops…Hamada, flanked by Razor and Neil Galentree, followed by two pairs of uniformed officers. Her eyes went big as dinner plates.

Hamada’s hand came down on hers as she started to take the weight off the switch hook of her phone. “Don’t announce us.” Then he marched on toward Flaxx’s office.

Razor peeled off at Bookkeeping long enough to empty it. “I have to ask you to leave, ladies. Right now, please. Take your hands off your keyboards and don’t touch them again. Just collect your purses and coats.”

Mrs. Gao pulled herself to her full height. “We have to what? What’s this about?”

“We’re serving a search warrant.”

While Razor ushered them out, Cole hurried after Hamada.

“Where is Miss Carrasco’s office?” Hamada asked Maldonado.

Eyes wide, she pointed down the side hall.

“Is Mr. Flaxx in?”

Maldonado frowned. “Yes, but he’s in a meeting. What is- Wait! You can’t go in there!”

Hamada was already opening the office door and leading two uniforms in. Galentree took the other uniforms and headed down the side hall. Cole hesitated, torn which direction to go, and finally went with Hamada.

The men and women at the conference table turned, staring. Flaxx pushed back from the table and stood. “What’s this!”

“Donald Flaxx, I have a warrant for your arrest.” Hamada waved it in front of him. “Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”

The jaws of the store managers and Maldonado, who had followed Hamada in, dropped.

Flaxx drew himself up. “Arrest? For what!”

“Let’s see.” Hamada pursed his lips. “Conspiracy to commit burglary, accessory to burglary, conspiracy to commit arson, accessory to arson, murder in the commission of a felony, fraud, conspiracy to commit- ”

The jaws kept dropping.

Flaxx turned to Maldonado. “Katherine, call Wayne. Have him come to the Hall of Justice.”

She scrambled for the phone on the desk.

Flaxx let Hamada cuff him, but his lip curled. “My lawyers will eat you alive. I don’t know anything about any of this. That bully Dunavan’s tried everything under the sun to pin something on me. He even slept with one of my bookkeepers. But you just try taking anything she told him to court.”

Hamada smiled. “We’re not arresting you on the basis of any information from Miss- ”

“Hamada! Carrasco’s gone!”

They whirled toward Galentree in the doorway.

Cole raced through the washroom and wall into Irah’s office. And swore. On the desk sat her spy camera monitor… showing the main Bookkeeping office. The view from the spy camera she planted to watch Sara! Her jacket hung on the back of her chair, high heels lay on the floor beside it, and a bottom drawer of the desk stood open an inch, blocked from closing by blonde curls. The remains of an envelope with a strip of tape across each end lay beside the spy monitor.

He ran out into the hall to find Galentree leading a group his direction. Seeing Razor, too, he said, “She spotted you in Bookkeeping, and probably went out the emergency exit. There’s a desk drawer with at least one wig in it so I’m betting she’s put on another and rigged herself some kind of disguise. There’s an envelope on the desk that looks like it was taped under the desk or a drawer. It could have had new ID or money in it. I’m going to try catching up with her on the stairs.”

Through the exit door, he took the stairs in bounds…leaping to the middle of the flight then vaulting the center railing to land in the middle of the next flight, and vaulting that railing to the middle of the next flight. Could he overtake Irah? What a nightmare for containment if she reached the shopping arcade. Three levels interconnecting with all the other buildings in the complex. Numerous street level exits.

Even if they blocked all the exits, how did they spot her when they had no idea what she looked like now…not color or style of hair, not what clothing she wore. She left her jacket, so she must be planning to acquire new clothing. She might even dress male. And once out of Embarcadero Center, she could go anywhere. Damn, he was an idiot! He should have remembered the spy camera on Sara and warned Razor about it!

Above him heavy running footsteps echoed in the stairwell. One of the uniformed officers giving chase? Below him he heard nothing. Maybe she was running barefooted.

As he dropped past level after level with no sign of Irah, his stomach dropped even farther. By the time he reached the Promenade Level he was swearing in frustration. He made a quick survey of the area but saw no one that could be Irah. Ditto after rushing down escalators to the Lobby and Street Levels.

Son of a bitch! She managed to outrun him after all.

He zipped back to the Flaxx offices to give Razor the bad news. But of the group that arrived with Hamada, he saw only one uniformed officer…who stood outside the door of Bookkeeping watching Katherine Maldonado face the entire office staff. Half were talking at the same time, demanding to know what was going on and what would happen now. All of them looked frustrated, worried, and lost.

Maldonado tried raising her voice above theirs. Without luck.

Then Farrell, standing at the back of the group, put two fingers in his mouth and produced a piercing whistle. In the startled silence he said, “Give the lady a chance to talk.”

In the silence Cole also heard voices in the direction of Irah’s office. Hurrying there, he found Razor and Galentree searching it. The surfer photograph lay face down on the desk. Strips peeled from the surface of the cardboard backing indicated that the envelope had been taped there.

Razor looked around from checking behind other photographs.

“I lost her,” Cole said.

Razor muttered under his breath, “Hamada alerted mall security before taking Flaxx away and we’ve got Central District officers on their way to sweep the surrounding area and search the mall.”

“Let’s hope they can recognize her.”

“You say something?” Galentree asked.

“Just talking to myself.” Razor dropped his voice more. “At least she can’t use her car. The secretary told us where the company parking spaces are in the garage and we’ve got a man watching it until it’s picked up for processing.”

“I’m going back down to look for her.”

Except standing in the middle of the street level courtyard, he wondered where to start. He had to do more than just wander the shopping arcades and streets outside. The security officers and uniformed PD he saw were already doing that much. That stash behind the picture — whether new ID, cash, or credit cards — indicated she had planned for the possibility of flight. Maybe as far back as the day she became Asset Manager, deliberately choosing to have her office near the emergency stairs. If he could guess her plan, he might intercept her.

Cole put himself in Irah’s place. With cops coming in the front door, she reached for her escape kit and bolted out the back. Her objective would be to reach the street and leave the area before they had time to surround it and trap her.

But…leave it for where? In her place, he would want out of the city. The fastest, nearest means for that was the Bay Area Rapid Transit. Make it to BART’s Embarcadero Station and she could be on her way to Oakland.

Since he knew the Embarcadero Station, Cole ziptripped there. Even though unable to collar her himself, when he spotted her he could whisper her location in the ears of the uniformed officers scanning the ticket lines and platform. He searched among the waiting passengers, too… trying to ignore clothing and hair color, concentrating on height and build, hands and ears. Two women and one young male raised his hopes, and officers stopped both of the women without his urging. On closer inspection, neither the women nor the male proved to be Irah.

Maybe she had not arrived here yet. Buying new clothes would take time. He moved to the street and worked his way back toward Embarcadero Center. But while he passed two patrol units and two bicycle officers, he reached the Sacramento Street entrances without seeing her. Had she taken another route? Or maybe chosen alternative transportation?

He zipped to the ferry terminal on Pier 1…then line-of-sight to a ferry churning its way toward Oakland. Searching among its passengers also failed to turn her up. So did checking out passengers at the terminal when he zipped back there. Ditto checking the Sausalito-bound passengers at the terminal behind the Ferry Building.

Cole headed back across Justin Herman Plaza. On the way he spotted another possible candidate there. A bicycle officer did, too. Nearing the pair, though, Cole saw she was only another false alarm.

Cole shook his head as the bicycle officer let her go on her way. The false alarms indicated everyone was doing their best watching for Irah, but they were still missing her. Maybe had missed her. If only he could figure out her escape plan. If she had not tried for BART or the ferries before the police staked out those and other obvious transportation, maybe she intended to rent a car using new ID. That still required reaching a car rental office.

Or…since she knew they were expecting her to flee, what if she did just the opposite? Knowing the Tenderloin from playing Kijurian, her plan might be to go to ground there, hiding among the homeless or in cheap hotels until the heat died down. The risk of hiding in plain sight was unlikely to bother her. She might even get off on it.

Hiding in plain sight. He stared toward Embarcadero Center. What if she were already doing that? In a few hours hundreds of office workers would start heading home for the day. Avoid detection until then and she could lose herself in the exodus.

Cole rushed into Embarcadero Center to search it again. This time, though, he could use a system. Not that he felt a hundred per cent confident about anticipating her moves, but if he wanted to wait for quitting time without attracting attention, he would set himself up in a location where people sat for long periods. Starting at 4EC, he combed all three mall levels, peering closely at everyone sitting at a table. None of them were Irah. He moved on to 3EC.

Where, despite his careful scrutiny, he still almost missed her.

Maybe it was the long fingers spread across the back of her book that made him turn around, or the title on the book’s spine, registering after he passed her. Catch Me If You Can. He walked around the table she shared with two other women…to all appearances oblivious to everything but her book. While the other women chatted with each other, Irah’s eyes lifted from the page just to reach for her drink or eat a bite of salad.

She had gone quasi-Goth. Her blouse, black, had sleeves ending in long ruffles. A black skirt came down over black platform boots to her ankles. Brunette hair the color of redwood hung around her shoulders, hiding her ears and some of her face. What showed had black lipstick and eyes like holes…heavily lined in black, with dark purple eye shadow. A black coat or cape lay folded over the table’s fourth chair.

Cole circled her several times to satisfy himself this was Irah. Even on close examination she remained difficult to recognize. Then he zipped to the Flaxx offices to tell Razor.

The offices were empty, a seal on the front doors. Waiting for the forensic search of the computer.

Before checking Homicide to see if everyone had returned there, Cole went back to Irah. She still looked settled, and if he were right she would remain there as long as she could without attracting attention. But he found himself reluctant to let her out of his sight, afraid that if he did, she would disappear again.

Suddenly her heart rate jumped. He quickly spotted the reason, a pair of uniformed officers, strolling her direction. Though looking everyone over, they did not appear to notice her. Should he leave them ignorant and go tell Razor? If he let them know, however, they could arrest her quietly. Not have half the PD come charging in here, led by Special Operations. But how did he communicate with them? He had no time to go soak up heat for a materialization. He had to act now.

Cole looked around. There was the way Red’s hometown ghost made herself visible, of course. Not a solution he liked. Chilling things might drive everyone out of the area, including Irah. Maybe the open space would spread the heat loss out enough to make it less severe. He saw no other choice.

Imagining himself as a sponge, or inhaling with his whole body, he began drawing in heat. But there was so much less of it than in a car engine. He sucked harder, deeper, scrambling to build enough for materialization as he moved past Irah and toward the officers.

As he used rear vision to keep track of Irah, he saw people at the table nearest him shiver, then those at tables farther away. They reached for jackets. A couple stood and walked away. One of the women at Irah’s table did, too.

The Oriental officer of the pair hunched his shoulders. “Man, who opened the freezer door?”

Cole hoped he had enough heat. Time to see. He circled behind a tree and visualized himself as his sister Trish…with a star in his jacket pocket and his arm in a sling, so they would not expect assistance with the arrest. The moment he felt weight, he stepped from behind the tree into the officers’ path, keeping voice low. “Yo, guys. Hold up a minute.”

They halted, expressions polite…Silvela and Yee, according to their name tags. “Yes, ma’am. What can we do for you?”

He showed them the star. “I’m Lieutenant Trish Deckard, Ingleside District. I’m on sick leave but one of the security guards I know told me you’re hunting Irah Carrasco? That she’s suspected of killing an officer?”

Her name brought them on alert. “You sound like you know her,” Yee said.

“Yes. And she’s sitting at a table just down the concourse. Don’t look! She’s watching you. When I passed her I could tell.” What Irah thought about two officers focused on thin air in front of them, he had no idea, only hoped it did not spook her. “She’s the brunette.”

Both officers glanced down the concourse from the corners of their eyes, heart rates picking up. Silvela said skeptically, “Are you sure? She’s just sitting there reading.”

Cole nodded. “I met her when one of their stores in our district was burglarized. And women know other women, no matter what they’re wearing.” Whether true or not, it sounded good. “Ah…I wouldn’t do that,” he said as one of the officers started to reach for his radio. “She’ll know she’s been made. I’m thinking you ought to arrest her now, quietly, while you have the chance, then call it in.”

The two exchanged glances. “How do we have a chance when she knows we’re here?”

Cole explained his idea, prepared for skepticism, but they were young enough to feel the weight of the rank he had given himself. They agreed to do it. So he stepped aside and they continued on toward Irah. Back behind the tree again, he let go, then followed them.

They approached, seemingly ignoring her, discussing the Giants’ chance at the World Series this year. As they started to pass, Silvela halted and looked down at her. “Say, is that a good book?”

Yee halted several steps later, putting him behind her.

Irah looked up with no outward indication of nervousness. Her heart rate, though, said adrenaline was pumping. “Yes. It’s fascinating how he got away with all those impersonations.”

“What’s your name?” Silvela asked.

Her brows rose. Her heart rate went higher, too. “Fiona Brazaski.” She smiled at him then back over her shoulder at Yee. “Are you trying to pick me up?”

“May I see some identification?”

“What’s this about?” the other woman at the table asked.

Silvela gave her a bland smile. “Just routine. Miss Brazaski?”

Irah closed her book, pulled a billfold from the pocket of her skirt, and took out a driver’s license.

“Fiona Brazaski, brunette, blue eyes,” Silvela read. “Can you repeat your birth date for me?”

“June fifth, 1977.” She gave him an anxious frown. “Have I done something wrong?”

She had probably memorized the birth date, anticipating that she might be asked for it, but reeling it off with no hesitation impressed Cole.

Silvela glanced toward Yee. Cole groaned at the uncertainty in it. Come on, come on. Don’t give in to doubt!

Yee said, “Look at this, Irah.”

She started to turn her head…caught herself. Too late. And knew it. She breathed a curse.

Cole grinned. Good job!

“Why don’t you take off the wig, Miss Carrasco,” Silvela said.

Irah stared hard at him for a long moment, then smiling wryly, reached up and pulled off the wig. While the other woman gaped, she ran her hands back through her own hair and shook it out. “I guess I’m busted.” She stood, and stepping clear of the chair, put her hands behind her back.

Cole’s spine prickled. He had hoped they could take her without a struggle but this was too easy. After her statements to Flaxx about not going to jail…after killing Sara supposedly to prevent that… she was just giving up?

But she stood passive while Silvela cuffed her and patted her down for weapons, and while Yee, voice carefully neutral, informed Communications of the arrest. With one of them holding each of her arms, they led her down to the ground level and out to their patrol unit.

She smiled at them. “I thought my disguise was good. You guys are sharp. This ought to earn you a commendation.”

Walking beside them, Cole could see them start thinking about that. He frowned. They needed to stay focused. While the officers’ heart rates had returned to normal, Irah’s continued racing, still pumped for action. She was planning something.

Yet they reached the car without incident and put her in the back.

Then as Silvela started the engine, she said, “Wait. I forgot my cape. It’s still back there at the table.”

Not forgot. Cole felt sure she knew very well they were leaving it. She probably intended to do so, stepping away from the table so it would be overlooked as they arrested her. Leaning down to the passenger window, he told Yee, “Forget about the cape. Take her straight to the Hall.”

“You won’t need it in jail,” Silvela said.

“But my bag is under it, with a gun in it.”

Cole’s gut said it was a trick but…how could they afford to gamble on that.

Yee jumped out. “I’ll be right back.”

She shifted in the seat, grimacing. “These cuffs are hurting me,” she said in a small voice.

“I’m not going to loosen them.” Silvela drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.

“You don’t have to. Tightening them will help more.”

He glanced back through the cage in surprise. “What?”

She shifted position again. “It’s a fact. Snugger cuffs cause less discomfort. Then double lock them. I learned that at the Citizen’s Academy. So could you please tighten them?”

Alarms screamed in Cole. One officer disposed of temporarily, the other being asked to open the door. “Don’t do it!”

Silvela opened his door, no doubt disarmed by the word “tighten” and her passive behavior to this point.

Cole drew on heat in the air to pump substance into his voice, and yelled a warning at Silvela.

Too late. Silvela had already opened the rear door and was leaning down toward Irah.

Her left hand whipped from behind her back with the cuff that should have been around her right wrist gripped like brass knuckles. It smashed into Silvela’s throat. As he reeled back and collapsed, choking, she leaped from the car. Blood dripped from her right hand, scraped raw by pulling it out of the cuff. Whooping, she ripped the badge from his shirt, then jumped into the front seat, slammed the car into gear, and floored the accelerator. Seconds later the lights and siren came on.

Cole overrode an impulse to zip into the car and stay with her. Instead, he tracked her visually as he knelt by the downed officer, cursing his inability to use the radio. “Someone call 911!” Trusting that no one would ask where the voice came from.

At least she remained in sight, heading straight up the street. He winced at a near collision as she shot through an intersection. A seeming eternity later, Yee appeared with the cape and handbag. Up the hill, brakes squealed as cross traffic at another intersection tried to avoid a collision.

Yee halted in shock. “Dom!”

Cole jumped to his feet. “She’s got your unit. She just made a left…I think on Montgomery. Call it in. I’m going after her.”

Yee stared around in confusion, looking for the voice, then gave that up to kneel by his partner and hit his radio switch..

Cole sprinted after the patrol unit…running through people and vehicles. One woman saw him as he came at her. Her eyes widened. Cole plunged through her with an apology. She yelped. Rear vision caught her whirling to stare after him in disbelief and bewilderment.

At the next intersection he raced through crossing traffic. With a clear vision of the Montgomery intersection, he zipped line-of-sight to it, then peered down Montgomery toward Market. But he saw no flashing light bar, heard no siren. Damn! Had she shut it down, or turned off Montgomery?

He zipped toward Market a block at a time, pausing at each intersection to look both ways down the cross street. The only police car he saw was coming up Post toward him, with two shapes visible through the windshield. Cole swore bitterly. Irah had given them the slip again!