"Elusive" - Issue #6

“Elusive”

Issue #6

‘Corriola’

By Charley Biggs

August heat was in full swing, and the grounds on the perimeter of the Federal Prison in Lexington, Kentucky were sweltering.  Since the escape of one Michael Corriola, a mob enforcer from New Jersey, the fence had been repaired, and guards on double duty.  Near the area where the man had made his way out, along with several State Police uniformed officers, US Marshals Deputy Smith was squatting to get a closer look at the sets of tracks near the fence.  Behind him a few paces, Supervisory Deputy Maria Gomez was lighting a Liga Privada T52 Belicoso with a torch lighter, letting her current partner get his bearings.

            Both Marshals wore suits, Smith, though sweat rolled down his face, still looked fresh from the office in his black suit, white shirt and yellow tie, his badge at the opposite side of his belt from his sidearm.  Wearing a blue blouse with the sleeves rolled to her elbows, Gomez had removed her suit coat and was wearing her black pinstripe pants, badge and gun hanging from her belt along with her handcuffs. 

            Tucking the lighter in her pocket, Gomez thinned her lips, blowing out a stream of smoke from the corner of her mouth before using the fine cigar to gesture around them, “So…we can see that three people were here.  At the same time you think, Smith?”

            Between them, the officers I uniform held their silence, and Smith shook his head, “No…if I had to make a guess, the other two were here far earlier to leave a package for Corriola.  He left alone as best I can tell, he hit the ground running and didn’t stop, and the tracks are in different areas with varying amounts of wear…”, he turned and stood up to look at Gomez, “What do you see?”

            Gomez clenched the cigar in her teeth and pointed to a barely perceptible break in the tall grass, “A path…”, she said thickly around it before taking it from her lips slowly, pointing with the hand that held the cigar, “It’s been followed already, yes?”, she asked those standing around them, rewarded with nods.  “Well…”, resting her hands on her hips, she shrugged, “Since the other two left him a package by our best guess…he didn’t have a ride waiting.  That means he either stole a car or hiked…and something tells me our ‘Jersey boy’ with the mob isn’t really an outdoors kinda guy!”

            Smith turned to the gaggle of police nearby, “Any car thefts or carjacking incidents in the past two weeks around the time of his escape?”

            As the deputies hesitated, trying to get consensus, Gomez was ahead of them, waving her phone at Smith, cigar handing from her mouth as she sent a message to Thornton.

            Smith raised his hands, “We’ll find out…meanwhile, stand by for a special bulletin.  If we end up looking for him, he’s not someone you’ll want to get in a traffic stop…I think it’s safe to say we have what we need for the time being, thank you for all of your help”, clasping his hands, he watched as the State Police left the scene and waited for them to be gone before turning to Gomez, “Now what?”

            Gomez was tucking her phone back in her pocket when she took the cigar from her mouth, lips curling into a knowing smirk, “Now we wait, Smith…we don’t have anything on Corriola for the time being.  How about the drug ring in Detroit that we are working?”, she asked, starting to make the walk back to the government issue sedan they were using, the heels of her boots, though blocky, sinking slightly in the soft ground, though it did not really hamper her; being outdoors was far more natural for Gomez than most would realize.

            Smith shook his head, “Nothing we can act on, there are informants, but the FBI won’t talk to us…these cases, all of them, are nasty”

            “That’s what happens when they get that much press, Smith.  We can’t expect cooperation…”

            “I wonder why all the pressure…?”

            “Politics…let’s get back to the hotel and wait for Thornton to get back to us.  We can look over our paperwork and see what else can be worked”

***

            Bent over a keyboard typing like a mad man, Jim Thornton was scrambling to get a same-day request in with the state police for information on potential car thefts or carjackings in the area.  Drinking coffee and having rolled his sleeves up, he’d been in the office since four in the morning trying to pull everything into a cohesive picture, and it was shaping up.  The problem was trying to put a pin on the spot this guy was going to run…that was the thing he couldn’t nail down.

            As soon as the request was fired off, he picked up the desk phone and dialed that all-too-familiar number, waiting for the other end to be picked up.

            In Lexington at the hotel near the airport, Maria Gomez was sitting around in old grey sweat pants and a purple sports bra, hair loose and shoeless as she read through a case file for a different case and drank a Corona sans the lime.  When her phone went off, the ringtone she’d chosen for Jim going off, she answered it within the first few bars of music, “Go ahead, Jim…what you got for me?”

            On the other end, Jim was holding the phone against his shoulder with his chin as he tapped away at his computer, pulling up what he’d made for notes…he was really getting into this more modern form of note taking, and was convinced that Smith was a fucking genius!  “Well, let’s start with why this guy was so important to bust out…”

            Taking a swig of beer, Maria, hummed, nodding.

            “He’s a cop killer…a specialist…and I get the scary feeling the DeMeo family is pulling him to disrupt an investigation involving a major interest…but I can’t quite get it narrowed down.  If Smith is nearby, get him in there so he can join in…”, he suggested.

            Without a word, Maria was on her feet, swinging the adjoining door open and giving a swift bang to Smith’s door.  Seconds later, the tall muscular man answered wearing nothing but a towel, which made the older Marshal arch her brow, pointing and saying loudly, “Pants! Get there!”, to Smith, and twirled a finger as she hit the button for speaker so Jim could be heard, “Conference with Thorney…not doing it in the nude”

            “Why not?”, Jim said from the phone, “You know I’m naked right now!”, instantly, this was followed by a loud, “OW!  Dammit boss!”

            Maria had been taking a swig of beer and was now coughing and spluttering loudly as she heard the slap to Jim’s head from Valentine as it simultaneously happened with Smith’s dropping the towel at the sound of the outburst.

            After all of the excitement died, and Maria was done wiping her face where she’d actually had beer come out of her nose with Jim’s antics and his usual miscalculation of Theresa’s hearing, her and a now clothed Smith were sitting on the edge of her hotel bed listening as Jim began to explain further.

            “Bottom line here is that he is out with a purpose…sounds Hollywood, but sometimes it actually does happen, and this looks like one of those times.  Corriola isn’t alone by my best guess, and as soon as I find out about him stealing a vehicle, we might get a leg up.  Right now the DeMeo family is under multiple investigations in different locations…it’s not easy to pinpoint where he might be.  The scary part is that there is an ongoing FBI op in Kentucky going on…I’m concerned that that could be where he is slated to go…if so, it might be tricky to get him.  The FBI has people in the family, and that could complicate things…so I’m calling Rosenthal to set up a lunch and talk possibilities on the side just in case”, it made his skin crawl, but Jim would do what he could on his end…even dealing with that psycho if he had to.

            Smith chimed in, “It would make better sense that he’s working local…this isn’t the forties, they wouldn’t be restricted to one guy these days.  Where in Kentucky are we talking?”

            “Bowling Green…”, Jim said, “Sounds out of the way, but considering it’s a major shipping route, I believe they are using trucks and vans to ship drugs.  Though why DEA isn’t heading up that investigation, I’m at a loss…hence my meeting with Rosenthal”

            “Thorney…if it’s Bowling Green, they aren’t distributing drugs…they are moving people”, Smith said, getting a look from Maria as she popped open a cigarillo tin to pull out a Macanudo Ascot.  “It’s not a widely known fact, but that’s a human trafficking hub, particularly for labor”

            Thornton was silent for a while as he added that to his notes, “So they are sending workers out from there?”, he clarified.

            “Yes…particularly tradesmen shipped from South America and parts of Asia.  They blend right in after getting off a boat in California…also Russian mob ships girls through there as well.  I wouldn’t be surprised if the op included Russian assets”

            Maria clicked her lighter shut and spoke around her cigarillo, “Jim…get Rosenthal tonight.  Don’t wait…if they are this organized, we need to be on top of what’s going on”, then she took the cigarillo out of her mouth, speaking in a haze of smoke, “If this guy is out to target investigators, that means there’s a threat to Rosenthal, and if they spot us in Lexington, that could mean us too”, this revelation earned a concerned look from Smith, though Gomez seemed unmoved.

            Tensing, Thornton cracked his neck audibly before he sighed, “I’ll get her now and tell her to meet me at the house.  You two watch your back in the meantime and prep to move over to Bowling Green”

            “We’ll get ready…just don’t get in a hurry, Jim.  Keep us informed and we’ll sit tight”, Maria said calmly, not willing to let her old partner get overly excited and anxious.  “We aren’t even sure that this is what’s happening…he could be headed for the investigation in Houston.  Find out what you can and call us back”

            “All over it…be safe guys”, and with that, Thornton set the phone in the cradle and the call ended.

            Maria was clenching the ascot in her teeth as she shifted where she said, reaching over to her bedside table to check her sidearm.  “Shmith…”, she said slowly, “You’re shpending the night here in my room…we are only lishted under your room…”

            Smith took a few moments as he puzzled out what she was saying, and when it hit him, he scratched his head, “Wouldn’t that be inappropriate?”

            Setting the cigarillo in an ashtray, Maria stood up, setting the gun down and walking over to the main table to grab the tv remote, “Wouldn’t taking a bullet to the head because you didn’t spend the night in here be more inappropriate?”, she asked in turn.

            Smith had no answer…in this case, she was absolutely right.  Standing up, he headed to his room to make it look like he was still there, turning on the tv loudly, and retrieving his firearm…he hoped that Jim was on the wrong track here…but if he wasn’t…

***

            Supervisory Special Agent Shauna Rosenthal was a short and thin woman with memorable curves at her breasts and hips and dark hair that had streaks of silver at her temples which only seemed to give the oddly bubbly and usually smiling woman more appeal.  Beautiful and dark eyed with a bright personality, it was odd that this little woman was one of the most productive and aggressive FBI agents in the nation…and even more odd that she was absolutely infatuated with James Thornton.

            Off duty and wearing a lavender tube top and skin tight jeans, hair loose around her tanned shoulders, her boot heels clopped against the driveway as she stepped out of her jeep.  Pausing to grab a six pack of some craft beer from her passenger seat and to adjust her bra so her cleavage looked more inviting, she walked up to knock on the door of Jim’s house.

            When it opened, Jim had a Monte Cristo White Churchill hanging out of his mouth, and he nodded to come on in.  Smiling brightly with a show of brilliant white teeth and bouncing on her toes, Shauna almost squealed as she greeted him, “Jim!  How are you feeling?!”, and one hand holding the six pack, she stepped across the threshold, all but throwing herself into the equally short man as she hugged him tightly, pressing her face against his shoulder, “I was so worried about you…it’s good to see you back on your feet”, and then she stepped back as he let her in, offering him the beer.

            “You know where the fridge is Dingbat…”, Jim grunted, closing the door behind them.  “I’m fine, and I’m back to work.  I didn’t call you over on a date, though…I need your help”

            “Anything!”, she said brightly, heading into the kitchen to deposit the six pack, taking two out and opening both.

            Jim walked into the kitchen to join Rosenthal and was handed a beer before he could take the cigar out of his mouth, “Thank you…anything, huh?”

            “I did say it…what do you need, Jim?”, Rosenthal asked as she sat on a barstool delicately and leaned forward to tug her boots off, setting her beer on the counter.

            Jim, leaning against a counter about as far back from her as he could get short of leaving the kitchen, considered it before he asked, using the cigar to gesture and point at Shauna, “Well…we are looking for Corriola, and have reason to believe he might be hanging out in Lexington before he heads elsewhere.  Wondering if you had anything on the DeMeo family that would point to his next step?”

            Letting each boot fall haphazardly to the floor and pulling her socks up, Rosenthal took the bottle from the counter and watched Jim as she rolled it in her hands and took a few drinks from it.  Staring at the neck, she nodded, “Well…I know he is headed to Bowling Green next.  We let him get out because his presence will help us knock down that entire operation…”, then she looked up at Jim, concerned and frustrated, “Jim…we are moving in for that arrest tomorrow.  Corriola is on the list of people we are supposed to take in”

            Jim shook his head, “This is coming down as one of our main cases…I can have Marshals in Bowling Green first thing in the morning.  But Corriola goes with us”

            “Jim, I-“

            “You said ‘anything’…”, he reminded her, “I know this is a tall order with the Senate committee, but the Bureau doesn’t get to play games with us regarding an escaped prisoner.  That’s our jurisdiction…all I’m asking is for you to tell me what’s going on”

            “Well…”, she said, setting the bottle on the counter again as she stared at her fingers, “The meeting is taking place in the afternoon…we have several informants in the area, and one of them will give us the signal that everyone is there…if Corriola doesn’t show, the meeting is a bust and we’ll lose everything”

            “Then I’d suggest you get my people in on this…”, Jim told her, picking his cigar back up and puffing it back to life slowly.

            “Jim…don’t do this with me.  You know I’d do anything for you…”, then she whispered, “I told you I’d wait for you…”

            Spluttering, he shook his head, “Don’t bring that up!”, he snapped, waving a hand, “You know damn good and well the FBI doesn’t have the juice to out muscle us over an escaped convict!  Just get my people in on the arrest so they can pick Corriola up.  We’ll get you access to him for interrogation regarding your case…I’ve already cleared it with Valentine.  We have to bring him back in”

            Shauna frowned, and took another drink, then slowly, she started to grin widely.  The whole thing was a bit unnerving for Jim, whom didn’t have anymore room to back away. Then she nodded, “Fine…it’s my op anyhow, I’ll make sure Gomez and whatshisface make it in…and they are safe, Corriola checked into a hotel outside of Bowling Green this afternoon…”, she added in this afternoon, “But you owe me”

            Jim spread his hands, “Name it”, he sighed, knowing he was going to hate this.

            “Dinner!”, she said grinning broadly, “Not a bar, Jim…a nice dinner.  Wine, a classy dimly lit place, candle light…”

            “…me puking on the deck”, Jim muttered into his beer, earning him a laugh as Rosenthal got up and came over to him.

            Throwing her arms around his neck and leaning forehead to forehead with him, she smiled sweetly, “Come on…we both could use a change of pace.  I’m not asking you to hurry…just one date”

            Grumbling, Jim nodded, “Fine! Fine!  As long as our people get in on the arrest, I’ll take you on a date…”, he said in resignation.

            “Great!”, and much to Jim’s surprise, Rosenthal took his cigar from his mouth and kissed him.

            Shoving her off and scrubbing the back of his mouth, Jim grimaced, “Get off!”, reaching for his cigar as she danced back away from him, taking the cigar with her, puffing on it playfully.

            When Jim reached to retrieve his cigar, she danced back father, skidding back into the cabinet where the sink was, “Come on, Jim, you’re faster than that”, she teased.

            “Woman!”, Jim started, finger raised.

            “Man!”, she fired back, smiling and giggling as she toyed with the Deputy.

            Jim threw his hands up, “Fine!  Keep it!”, he grumbled, “I’m not chasing you”, but when he went to turn away, she caught his arm.

            Pulling at him to draw him in, Rosenthal pulled Jim so that he was almost pinning her to the counter as she looked at him, dark eyes shining, setting the cigar on the edge of the sink.  Resting her hands on his chest, she whispered, “I missed you…”

            Jim hung his head, “Well…I-“

            His lips were stopped by her finger, “Shhh…”, and they both just stared into each other’s eyes for a long time.