Angel of Death - Debt Collector 5 (A Jack Winchester Thriller) Read online

  “I’m sorry,” she replied. “I mean, about last night and leaving you stranded.” She let out a lungful of air and tossed a small tea towel over her shoulder.

  “It’s okay, you know more about the trouble in this city than I do.”

  “But you were just trying to help.”

  “How about we just forget about it?”

  She nodded. “Coffee is on me. I’ll bring it over.”

  Jack returned to his spot that he had the previous day. He was a little more optimistic about today now that they had a time frame to work with. He glanced at the clock, it was a little after ten in the morning. Johanna brought his coffee over along with a pastry and thanked him again for what he did for her. As he nursed his drink and let the caffeine kick in, he settled in for the next few hours. Within an hour locals were using both computers. It was interesting to see what people searched for online. The Internet was chockablock full of weirdness. Strange people, strange tastes and something for everyone. It had made the world seem a lot smaller and yet at the same time made people even more antisocial. It was hard to walk down the street without bumping into someone staring down at a phone. Anyone would have thought that society was constantly engaged in some high-profile business deal with the amount of time they spent navel gazing. As the clock got closer to twelve, a large guy came into the café. He stood out immediately because of his height, skin color and T-shirt, which was torn at the sleeves. On the front it featured an image of Bruce Springsteen wailing on a guitar in front of an American flag. Tightly wrapped around his head was a bandana. He was smoking a cigar. He tossed some money on the counter and went over to the computer. Both systems were in use but that didn’t stop him from tapping on the shoulder of a kid who was playing a computer game and telling him to go take a hike.

  After he sat down and logged in, Johanna brought him over a coffee. She turned to walk away and he slapped her on the ass and let out a weak laugh. He brought the cup to his lips and sipped it. Jack spotted a tattoo on his right forearm. It had a flag, an eagle and the words United States Marine Corps. He blew out some smoke, leaned over to the lady who was beside him on the other computer and muttered a few words in her ear. She got this disgusted look on her face and she got up and left. He set his cigar down in an ashtray and then glanced around the room suspiciously. He honed in on Jack. Jack was sipping on a double espresso. It was his second one of the day and finally the fog of sleep was lifting.

  “Are you a faggot?”

  “Excuse me?” Jack replied.

  He leaned forward in his chair. “Well, cause you have been eye fucking me ever since I walked in here.”

  Jack didn’t reply, he shifted his gaze to the window. He could still see the man in the reflection and at least this way he wouldn’t give him a reason to get up and leave. He was pretty sure that was the guy. In the reflection he could see the man was still staring at him. Most might have shifted uncomfortably in their seat with the anticipation of the guy looking to start a fight but not him. He remained poised and calm. There was very little that disturbed him. In his younger days when he was learning the ropes, everything rattled his nerves but not now. Dealing with threats was ninety percent confidence, the rest was speed and know-how.

  He glanced at his watch. It was twelve. The man began tapping away on the keyboard. He saw him take out a USB device and plug it into the box below the table. A few more minutes and he removed it and got up to leave. Jack gave him a minute or two before he followed. Outside he looked to his right in the direction that the man had gone but he was no longer there. He shifted past a few locals, and then spotted him ducking into a marketplace. Not wasting any time, he double-timed it over and tried to keep his distance. If it wasn’t for the man’s stature, he was certain he would have lost him in the crowd. Stall owners thrust different items in his face as he went by, offering him a deal. He waved them off and kept his eyes on the man who looked as if he was in a hurry.

  As he came around a corner the guy was gone. He looked one way and the next. He hurried a few feet ahead of him but still nothing. That’s when he felt a blunt force smash into his side. He landed on top of the table of a stall owner who was selling throw rugs. The table collapsed beneath him and he managed to turn in time to see the man’s boot coming down. Jack turned sharply but not fast enough to prevent him from grasping the back of his collar. The guy hauled him up and slammed him into a wall. He felt the wind get knocked out of him as he looked up in time to see a boot head towards his head. Jack grabbed it and twisted causing the man to become unbalanced and fall. He loomed over and drove two right hooks into his kidneys. The man gasped. Stall owners were shouting and spewing things in Spanish while Jack kicked the guy a few times and dragged him to his feet. As he did, the man pulled a knife and slashed the front of Jack’s shirt. He felt the blade cut across his abdomen. His brain didn’t register how deep it was only that he needed to end this fast, otherwise he would be seeing Peru from the inside of an ambulance.

  The man bent at the waist, jabbed the knife forward and swiped from side to side while Jack moved. Hanging from one of the market stalls were scarves, he snagged one up and tied one end around his left fist and the other around his right. The man lunged at him multiple times. On the third attempt Jack twisted the scarf around his arm and yanked it so he could step in and thrust the palm of his hand up into his nose. He drove it up as hard as possible to break it. Blood gushed instantly and the large man stumbled back in shock. Jack side kicked his front leg just behind the knee twice to drop him down to one knee and then he followed through with a knee kick to the face.

  All around him people were shouting. A couple of Peruvian men tried to pull Jack off but he just shoved them back. He hadn’t waited for hours in the blistering heat to see this guy walk off. Not that he was going to be doing much of anything except nursing cuts and bruises.

  Jack dragged him up and pushed him out of the marketplace into the closest alley. The man still wasn’t sure what the hell was happening. His eyes were watering, his nose gushing with blood and he was still in a dazed state.

  The first thing out of Jack’s mouth was…

  “Where is she?”

  The man made his first attempt to reply but it came out in spit and mumbles. Jack slapped his face to get his attention.

  “Where is Danielle Lefkofsky?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Wrong answer.”

  Jack gave him two sharp jabs to the rib cage.

  “Now let’s do this again. Where?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never seen her before.”

  “Don’t lie!”

  He took a hold of his head and slammed it against the wall.

  “I swear. I saw a missing persons ad. I replied and sent him bogus photos.”

  “The tattoo on the neck?”

  “Temporary tattoo done on an escort friend of mine.”

  He stared back at Jack. Jack snorted and shook his head. “So you just like to prey upon the vulnerable? You sick asshole.”

  He wanted to continue beating the shit out of him but he’d already done a number on his face. Jack released him and stepped back wiping blood on his jeans. He was about to turn and walk away but the guy obviously hadn’t learned his lesson. The guy lunged at him from behind and Jack brought up his elbow but it went over the top. He plowed into Jack’s waist like an NFL player making a tackle. It was brutal and fast. They fell back into a pile of wooden pallets and began brawling again. This time the guy was raining down punches on Jack’s face from above. Even as Jack tried to block them he managed to land a few to his ears, which made them ring and burn. All attempts to get up were prevented by the sheer size of the man. He had to have been at least two hundred and ten pounds.

  Never one for taking a beating for long, Jack clamped onto his one hand and brought his knee up several times between his legs. The guy gasped but was doing everything he could to keep Jack below him. One lesson he had learned in fighting from his youth was that it wa
sn’t about skill or making it look pretty. He sunk his teeth into the man’s forearm like a pit bull, he latched onto him with all the force he could muster from his jaw muscles. The scream of the man forced him back and even then Jack remained latched on to his arm until he could kick him.

  The look of fury and agony in the man’s eyes as Jack rose to his feet, was a sight to see. He had fought all kinds of people over the years; large, small and skilled. Everyone was the same, they all had a breaking point, and you just needed to find it. Jack had one. But a person would have had to kill him to find it.

  The man let out a roar like a mother bear looking to protect her younglings. Most might have pissed their pants in fright knowing this was the moment they were about to get their ass handed to them on a plate, but Jack just looked for the opening. It was always there. Anger clouded judgment and made even the most skilled fighters lose their train of thought. Anger also created energy that could be redirected with a mere push in the right direction and by applying the right amount of pressure.

  The guy raced towards Jack like a bull. Jack turned, grasped a piece of broken pallet and swung it as hard as he could. The guy didn’t stand a chance in hell. His weight, anger and forward momentum had him on a collision course with a chunk of wood.

  The thick two-by-four nearly cracked as it made contact with the side of his face. He landed in a crumpled heap at Jack’s feet. Jack breathed out hard as his pulse raced.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Isabel had never stepped inside a marijuana dispensary or even had a joint. She had grown up with her eyes on a career in policing and while she knew of officers who smoked pot, it had always been frowned upon. She recalled them asking about her drug use on her application. Most recruits recommended being honest because if they found out you hadn’t been; they would kick you out of the academy. She had spent a great deal of time trying to figure out what to write down. Fellow recruits told her to tell them that she’d smoked weed one time, twenty years ago as it demonstrated honesty. But the reality was, she hadn’t. It wasn’t that she thought it was bad. She had heard of sick patients using weed to find relief from their pain but it just wasn’t her thing.

  “Ms. Baker, I see that you put down on your application that you never did any drugs. Is that correct?”

  “That’s right.”

  The interviewer’s eyebrow shot up and he went back to scribbling something on a piece of paper. Her heart sped up at the thought of what notes he was making.

  “You are aware if we discover you have been using any form of drugs, you will be dismissed from the academy. So I would advise you to be honest. Last chance.”

  She shrugged and he moved on to the next set of questions.

  After the San Francisco police hired her she soon learned that they did it to everyone. They said unless you had been purchasing online or from a local dealer they had no way of knowing. Other recruits told her she should have said she had tried it. She didn’t see the point. She got hired, that’s all that mattered. She wasn’t one for lying.

  “Ma’am, can I help you?” a voice called out from behind her and she snapped back into the present. Isabel placed back a leaflet back in a tray. It advertised different strains.

  “Yes, I was hoping to speak to the owner.”

  “About?”

  She took out her badge and flashed it. The kid’s eyes behind the glass widened and he nodded and exited the room fast. It didn’t take more than a minute before someone unlocked the door and came out.

  He extended his hand. “I’m James Gunnar, and you are?”

  “Special Agent Baker.”

  “Have I done something wrong, agent? I’m a licensed producer. I can show you my paperwork.”

  He cast a glance around and she smiled. He must have thought he was about to get raided. She pulled out the leaflet that she got from Winchester’s room. He glanced at it and then back at her.

  “We’ve been doing that event for over a year. Did you go?”

  Isabel pulled out her phone and showed him a photo of Jack Winchester. “Have you seen this man before?”

  His eyebrows rose. “Yes. Yeah, he was in here a few days ago. Said he was looking for Danielle Lefkofsky.”

  “Who?”

  “Danielle. My ex-girlfriend. She went off to Peru with Eric Castillo, the one who runs this event.”

  Isabel smiled knowing that she was closing in. She wondered if Winchester had left behind the leaflet on purpose. Did he know that she was on to him?

  “I’m going to need as much information as you can give me on Danielle, her family and this group — the Eternal Movement.”

  He nodded. “Sure. Whatever you need. Come through, we’ll go into my office.”

  Over the next thirty minutes, James provided her with as much as he knew about the movement and Danielle. He also told her that he believed her father had sent Jack to look into his daughter’s disappearance, as he didn’t even know that she had gone missing.

  “So you parted ways on bad terms?”

  “You could say that. We had a difference of opinion. My involvement with the group has always been business-related. I’m not into the spiritual crap they are selling people.”

  “Spiritual crap?”

  “Woo-woo. Feel good. Listen to a guru and place them on a pedestal. It’s always how these people tend to be. They only appeal to people who are feeling lost in their lives.”

  “And you don’t feel lost?”

  He chuckled. “I run a cannabis dispensary. It’s rare that I ever feel down. And business is booming. No complaints on my side.”

  “Do you have an address for her father?”

  “Yes. One second.” He turned to his desk and scribbled down an address.

  Within ten minutes she had made her way over to the residence of Patrick Lefkofsky. When she knocked on the door no one answered. James had given the number of Patrick’s business and so she gave that a call from his doorstep. When he answered it sounded like he was down at a dockyard. There was a lot of shouting going on in the background.

  “Sorry, who are you?”

  “I’m Special Agent Baker. I was looking to speak to you about the disappearance of your daughter.”

  He shouted to someone in the background to keep it down and then chuckled over the phone. “After all the time I have put into searching and now you have the nerve to say you are here to help find her?”

  “I didn’t say that, sir. Is there a place we can meet?”

  He sighed on the other end of the phone and then told her to meet him at a coffeehouse that was in downtown Chicago. The Urban Herb.

  She hung up and didn’t waste any time getting down there. Isabel knew she wasn’t that far behind Winchester. A day or two at the most and this time she was going to make sure that he didn’t get wind of her arrival. She had to play her cards right. Find out what Patrick’s connection was to him and get details on where he was.

  When she arrived at the coffeehouse, it was one of these stuck-up, snooty-looking places that appeared to cater to highly paid business people. The place was full of suits sipping on lattes. It always amused her why people couldn’t just order a straight coffee. It always had to be some fancy ass name with flavoring and some kind of light milk. It all sounded so pretentious but people drank down the advertising like it was Kool-Aid. Just give me a goddamn coffee was all that was going through her mind. No, I don’t want light, creamy or grass-fed milk. Any milk will do.

  She gazed around looking to make eye contact with whoever Patrick was. She wasn’t looking for long when she felt a tap on her arm and turned around.

  “Agent Baker?”

  She nodded and took in the sight of the businessman. He motioned for her to take a seat with him over in the corner of the room beside the window. She opted to take a booth. Without knowing his background, she wasn’t going to sit in plain view in front of a window. That was like asking to be killed. It was one of the first things they taught in policing. When you are out e
ating, avoid windows and don’t ever have your back to the door. The academy teachers were a paranoid bunch but they were like that for good reason.

  Isabel recalled one of her first self-defense lessons, it was being taught by a young guy with a scar across his neck. In one of the sessions he began shouting at a student telling him that it wasn’t a game. If he didn’t pay attention he would end up like him. The instructor had once tried to be polite and less forceful with a guy he had brought in on possession of crack. That guy had somehow slipped an envelope opener up his sleeve. Within seconds his throat was torn open. He was lucky to have survived. Isabel would never forget the look on the student’s face as the instructor yelled at him. Everyone from that day onward attacked one another hard and went through the motions of arrest with a greater deal of conviction and enthusiasm.

  Thankfully, Patrick didn’t object to her request for a booth further back.

  He motioned for a lady to bring over his usual and then he settled in. He was unusually relaxed for a man about to be questioned by a fed. He wore a dark suit that looked as if it had been tailor-made for him.

  “So at what point did my message that I left with the bureau finally get taken off the back burner and pushed up to the forefront?”

  Isabel was careful in her choice of words. She didn’t want to spook him, have him close up, call for a lawyer or worse — contact the department.

  “Yes, about that. My superiors are very apologetic that we haven’t managed to get to this case until now.”

  “You can be sure that I will be moving ahead with that lawsuit. This is a young girl’s life that is being held in the balance. My daughter.”

  “If you would. Could you share again what happened? Where you believe she is? If you have heard from her and what you are currently doing to find her?”

  He began filling in parts of the story that James Gunnar had left out because it didn’t relate to him. When he was done bringing her up to speed, Isabel was keen to know about Jack.