The Templar Reprisals (The Best Thrillers Book 3) by James Best (read any book txt) 📕

“Bullshit, your four-man task force can’t compete with our researchers, sources, and technology.”

“I was referring to Trish, but thanks for the heads-up that your source is reporting to you daily.”

“No news there. What are we arguing about?”

“Our partnership arrangement,” Evarts said.

“Good. We’re on the same page. I’ll fly out and see you tonight for dinner. We can talk face to face.”

“No. We’re coming to D.C. Trish and me. We’re staying together from now on.”

“Breakfast?”

“Dinner. After we’re rested from a red eye flight. I’m not giving you that kind of advantage.”

“Dinner. My treat. Same place and time?”

“Trish will be with me, so this time we eat.”

“You were the one who ran off, but yeah, okay, we’ll keep it civil. Watchers at a distance.”

“Sounds good. By the way, you get an ID on our friend?”

Long pause. “Yes.”

“Excellent. That’s your price of admission to our little confab.”

Evarts hung up to call Ronny Baker, his head of vice. This would be touchy. Baker probably thought he would inherit Standish’s position, but that would never happen. She would return, hopefully soon, and if not, Baker was already properly positioned. He didn’t have the leadership ability to head the most important department under his command. When Baker answered, Evarts asked him to come to his office.

Baker arrived quickly trying to hide a smile. Evarts suppressed a groan. This would not go well if Baker expected the meeting to be about a promotion that would put him in charge of detectives. Baker’s unit worked with the county sheriffs on drugs, prostitution, gambling, and human trafficking. To facilitate their work, one of Baker’s staff was adept at providing false identifications for undercover operatives. His department did the work for both the police force and the sheriff’s Department.

“Captain, I don’t have much time, so I’ll make this quick. There have been three attacks against me and my wife. This has to do with a terrorist attack that my wife and I thwarted in Paris. I’m not allowed to go into any details, but they want retribution. In Santa Barbara, I have the force to watch my back, but my wife and I need to travel. In fact, we need to fly to D.C. tonight. The feds are interested in this group and want to keep them out of the USA. So, Trish and I need false IDs. Passports, credit cards, and driver’s licenses.”

“I can’t get anything today. I’ll need at least three.”

“You’ve got eight hours. Forget the passports for now but get us driver’s licenses and at least one credit card each. Use your undercover blind for an address, and I’ll reimburse the city for all non-business-related credit card charges.” He handed over a piece of paper. “Use these names. My wife’s safety depends on this. I’m counting on you.”

“Sir, this will be dicey. Not the doing of it, the timing.”

“Then get to it because the timing’s non-negotiable. We’re taking the red eye to D.C. and I don’t want to fly under our own names. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

He left Evarts office, sans the smile.

Last night, Evarts and Baldwin picked new names. They had been drinking and had fun at first, picking silly, lewd, or unpronounceable names. Finally, they had to settle down and get serious. Evarts picked David James Johansen and Baldwin picked Susan Naomi Johansen. Baldwin would use these names to open accounts in the Caymans, except that finalization and funds transfers would be delayed until they received new passports. In the meantime, she could liquidate financial assets to stockpile cash balances for future electronic transfer.

Evarts private line rang. It was Mayor Walsh. He didn’t want to talk to her, so he decided to ignore it. Then he thought better of it. His rule was to do first the thing he least wanted to do. That way, once the ugliest task was out of the way, the rest of the day had to go better.

“Good morning, Mayor,” Evarts said as he picked up the handset.

“Good morning, Chief. Are you done terrorizing my city?”

Her voice did not convey playfulness.

“The situation last night posed no threat to citizens or the officers containing it.”

“Three men dead, four arrested, and you’re saying no threat?”

“The dead committed suicide. Nothing we could do about it.”

“Greg, something’s seriously wrong, and it has spilled over to endanger my city. We’ve worked well together but you’re jeopardizing my constituents … and my career. I’m sorry, but several members of the town council want to call an emergency session. They want a vote on putting you on administrative leave … indefinitely.”

“That would take the police force away from me. My department has kept me and my wife from being killed in these attacks? That doesn’t sound like you.”

“I’m sorry, it’s the council.”

“Mayor, listen closely. No one in the city has been injured because I could direct police resources. I was leaving for Washington tonight to get federal help, but if you allow this vote to go forward, I’ll stay in Santa Barbara and let it be known that Trish and I are staying at the Biltmore. If they come after us again, it won’t be up in the foothills where most of our residents seldom venture. It will be in one of the city’s top tax generators. Our lives would be at risk, so we’d be forced to use whatever force necessary to survive.”

“Are you threatening me?”

“Trish and I risked our lives to thwart a terrorist attack. In retribution, these terrorists have attacked us three times. I didn’t bring this to your city. The terrorists did. Putting me on leave will not make them go away because I won’t be chased away from my home. It will embolden them … and put your city in greater jeopardy.”

“You are threatening me … and our top resort.” She paused. “Or are you bluffing?”

“I don’t bluff.”

She sighed. “No, you don’t. But I’m disappointed that you would stoop to this. I thought we were friends.”

“So did I … until I learned you were feeding information to General O’Brian.”

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