What Happened To Flynn Read online

  Steve then told me he had been looking over various phone records around the time Flynn was murdered. “Arzeta made one call to an untraceable number late Friday, September 5, the same day Flynn saw Swanson counting out drug cash. That call was received in Chicago. I think that number belongs to Bailey, since it matches the number of the call Collins received in San Francisco around midnight on Sunday, September 13. I think Bailey was then asking to be picked up in Santa Rosa where had had left the dead Flynn in the stashed Camry. Now, Swift made a call to that same phone number on Monday, September 8. This time, the call was received in Escondido, near, if not at, Arzeta’s home. I think Bailey had travelled to Escondido and Swift was telling him to kill Flynn and make it look like an accident. The gas attack took place the next day. Swift made another call to that phone number on Wednesday, September 10 when he would know the gas attack had failed. He would know from Marge Holmes that Flynn was going to the fishing camp and was asking Bailey to follow him. My theory is supported by the fact that Arzeta, who rarely calls Collins, called him on Friday, the day before he and Bailey drove north. I think he was commanding Collins to go with Bailey. Finally, Swift received a call from Bailey’s number on Tuesday, September 16. I think he was telling Swift that Flynn had been killed.”

  I was very impressed by Steve’s research effort and told him so. “I think these phone calls make the case for Swift ordering Flynn’s murder much stronger. Let’s talk to the district attorney about it after this operation is over.”

  I called Thompson and told him of Steve’s findings. He was elated. “It gives more validity to the raid on Swift’s house, which I will be leading together with DEA agents. Great work by Steve. That really moves this case along.”

  I felt envious that Steve had made such a dent in my case while thinking simultaneously what a pompous asshole Thompson was.

  I took time off in the late afternoon to jog for fifty minutes on the treadmill. I watched the TV as I jogged. The news depressed me: rapidly falling house prices and rising unemployment. I treated myself to a steak dinner to fortify myself for the next day. After dinner, Hanson called me. He reported Collins had received the pertinent phone call at 9:30 p.m. with a set of numbers ending in 755. I looked on the MLS listing to find it to be a home in Tierrasanta, a middle-class community on the east side of San Diego. I called Steve, who lived closer to Tierrasanta, to check for any potential problems.

  He called back an hour later. “Dammit, Shane. There’s a big problem. The lockbox has gone. Evidently, the house has been sold, but escrow hasn’t closed, and the MLS hasn’t been notified of the change in listing status.”

  I cursed out loud. Steve asked if I wanted him to monitor the drop-off and pickup at the house. “Those guys have the same problem as us,” he said. “They too don’t know there is no lockbox. If you like, I can put a camera-equipped car there. Emanya can pick me up and take me back since I live much closer than you.”

  I truly appreciated Steve’s diligence and told him to go ahead. Once again, I notified all the operational staff, who universally expressed their disappointment. We knew that pickups were not made on the weekends, so it meant the operation was called off until Monday. I dreaded that details might leak out to Swift’s group or the press. Again, I felt like Eisenhower having to make his D-Day channel crossing decision in the rough unpredictable weather of the time.

  Steve came into the office with the camera recording of the vacant house with no lockbox. We were pleased to see Geraldo Perana in his white Mercury making the drop, as before. The time between Perana leaving and Collins arriving was twelve minutes. I decided we needed to time how long it would take us to add the marked bills. I got a hold of Norman Bolder, and we drove to a vacant listed house close to our office.

  “I want you to do a practice run, and I am going to time you,” I told him. “Make sure you check every possible hiding place for the money drop, upstairs and downstairs.”

  I watched Bolder get out of the car, fumble with the lockbox, extract the key, and open the front door. I stared at my watch until he exited, locked the front door, replaced the key in the lockbox, and got into the car.

  “How did I do?” he asked.

  “You took eight and a half minutes,” I replied. “The time does not include opening the package, inserting the marked bills, and resealing it. “When you get inside the package, you will have to look at the money groupings inside and make up a package of similar quantity and denomination mix. I want you to practice doing that with a dummy package and report back to me how long it took you.”

  Later that day, Bolder reported that after practice and with the sealer preheated, he could open and reseal the package in three minutes. “I think I’ll find the package quicker,” said Bolder. “I suspect we won’t have to open every drawer and every closet door.”

  “I can’t count on that,” I replied. “I need to add a minute on each end to allow for your car to arrive and leave without being spotted by either of our perps, so the total time it takes is a minimum of fourteen minutes. The average interval between Perana’s leaving and Collins’s arrival has been thirteen minutes, but I think it could fluctuate by as much as five minutes either way. However, I plan to delay Collins’s arrival by at least fifteen minutes, so you should have time as long as you work expeditiously.” Bolder merely grinned at me.

  I had Hanson continue monitoring Collins’s phone over the weekend, even though I knew there was no history of weekend pickups. There was always the possibility a call of significance might occur. Hanson reported Collins had made a date on Saturday with a man to go to a foreign movie at the Landmark Theatre in Hillcrest, a community of artists and artisans in San Diego. I asked Hanson if he would like me to bring him a pizza while he continued monitoring the phone on Sunday evening. He thanked me, so I brought in the food and drinks and joined him.

  The call we were waiting for came at nine o’clock on Sunday evening. The numbers corresponded to an 8:10 a.m. pickup time and the listing of a vacant home in Vista, a town eight miles to the west of San Marcos and Swift’s office building. I told Hanson to go home and get some rest for the busy next day. I immediately drove to the home, since I lived closer to it than Steve, and found it vacant and protected by a lockbox on the front entry door. It looked perfect, a quiet street well off the main road, with plenty of side streets to hide cars carrying all the operational staff. The route to the home could be accessed by two likely exits off Highway 78. I drove to the Vista house to and from these exits, Emerald Dr. and Melrose Dr., to find driving times of four and two minutes respectively. Collins might take either exit, so I planned accordingly.

  I called all my team to let them know the operation would proceed and they should be ready to hear and act upon instructions next morning starting at 5:30 a.m. I called Drew Ryan to say the operation was a go the next day and that he should be ready to get the search and arrest warrants from the federal courthouse as soon as we confirmed Collins had returned to his office with the money package. I notified Thompson that everything was set for the next day. Delighted to hear the operation was proceeding, he asked about the arrest warrants for Swift and Collins on murder charges. I told him I would obtain those as soon as the raids were completed.

  MapQuest let me check the driving time to the vacant house from Collins’s home: nineteen minutes. I added twenty percent to this time to allow for the heavy traffic on Highway 78, typical for that time of day. If Collins planned to arrive at the drop house by 8:10 a.m., then he would leave his home at 7:47 a.m., or five minutes earlier if he had breakfast at the McDonald’s drive-through like before. I did the same exercise for Geraldo Perana. According to MapQuest, it would take him fifty-five minutes to drive from his home to the Vista address. But it would take longer if he went somewhere to pick up the money. I figured I would have to play it by ear next day. If he had the money in his possession at his home, and if he did not stop for breakfast, then he would need to leave his home at Collins’s pickup time less
fifty-five minutes for travel, less five minutes to drop off the money, and less thirteen minutes to get fully clear. That would require Perana to leave his home no later than 6:57 a.m.

  I decided to call Verbinski that evening to give him a partial heads up, telling him the start point would be in San Ysidro and that he should be positioned by 6:00 a.m.

  I arrived very sleepy at 5:00 a.m. Monday morning at the sheriff’s communication center, not surprising since I hadn’t gotten to bed the night before until well after midnight. I notified my team on the encrypted radio channel to give them the address of the drop house and the side streets where they should park until given the go-ahead to move into position. We synchronized our watches. I gave them details of Perana’s white Mercury and Collins’s blue Honda.

  “Bolder, the lockbox is on the front entry door. Make sure you have the money package with you as well as the sealing device and a knife or scissors to open the package. Let me know when you and the other crew are on location. I want all of you to radio in to confirm our communications.

  “Verbinski, let me know when your team is in position, and call me precisely when the Mercury leaves.

  “Emily, our perp lives at the Hillview apartments on Basser Street in Oceanside. You should get the tow truck to block his car at 7:37 a.m. That’s ten minutes earlier than when our man should leave, but it might well be only five minutes earlier if he goes out for breakfast.

  “Wallace, I want you to put your first car a half-block downstream of those apartments. Also, station team members at the eastbound Emerald and Melrose exits off Highway 78.”

  Verbinski radioed at 6:17 a.m. to say Perana had just left his house in his white Mercury, i.e., forty minutes earlier than I had calculated. “He garages his car,” he added. “It would have been difficult to install a transponder.” This early departure meant our drop man was not going to the vacant house directly.

  Five minutes later, Verbinski radioed that Perana had stopped at a nearby McDonald’s and gone inside. “I had Alvarez go inside the restaurant to watch Perana and his car; I hope that was okay,” he said.

  It was okay as far as I was concerned unless our man was spotted. Ryan and Thompson would kill me if that happened. I just hoped Verbinski’s man fitted in with that McDonald’s crowd.

  Ten minutes later, Verbinski radioed, “Alvarez reports an old Chevy car came into the parking lot and put a package in Perana’s car. He has the license plate of that car… It has Baja California plates. I don’t have enough people to tail both that car and Perana’s. What do you want me to do?”

  CHAPTER 21

  I wondered if I should notify US agents at the Mexican border but decided against it. The car could get to the border long before Perana’s car got to the drop house. Taking the money laundering operation down was far more important than catching a money courier. I told Verbinski just to concentrate on the Mercury.

  He then radioed, “I don’t know whether our man is going to the drop house by Highway 15 or Highway 5, so I’ll have to split my team to cover both routes. It means I won’t be able to do as good a job monitoring your man’s progress.”

  “That’s okay,” I responded, and then I contacted another team member.

  “Wallace, have team members stationed at the Emerald and Melrose exits tell me when that white Mercury passes by.”

  I poured myself a cup of coffee while waiting to hear back from them. Verbinski radioed that Perana was on the move at 6:59 a.m., i.e., two minutes later than I had predicted. I prayed our delay of the Collins car would go smoothly, since delays of the drop man would imperil our marked money insertion. Verbinski reported Perana had taken Route 5 north and that he would have one of his team near the Del Mar exit watch for Perana’s white car. Emily called to say she and the tow truck were positioned to move on the blue Honda. I called Thompson to ask him if his crew were assembling. He replied they were gathering vans and cars in preparation for the raids. He said a reporter was sniffing around. Jeez. If this operation is called off for any reason, we’re sunk.

  Verbinski’s team member reported the white Mercury had passed him at the Del Mar exit at 7:26 a.m. I pulled up MapQuest on the computer. It would take Perana twenty-six minutes to complete his journey; he would be right on time at 7:52 a.m.

  Emily called at 7:38 a.m. to say the tow truck was blocking the blue Civic and that its driver was walking out of the parking lot towards her nearby car. At 7:41 a.m., she reported, “The tow truck is also blocking the car next to the Honda, and its owner is looking for the truck driver… He’s reading the signs on the truck… He’s using his cell phone… I’m sure he’s calling the tow company.”

  I waited with impatience to hear her next report, which came three minutes later. “The driver beside me is getting a call from headquarters… He is being threatened…. He is giving me his cell phone.”

  My watch read 7:45 a.m. I could hear the tow company dispatcher yelling at Emily. “He says the truck driver will be fired if he does not move it now,” reported Emily.

  “Tell the dispatcher it’s a police matter,” I told her excitedly. “See if the driver can unblock this other person’s car while still blocking our suspect’s.”

  Then I heard the tow truck operator say, “I’m tired of this shit. I can’t afford to lose my job.”

  “He’s gotten out of my car,” said Emily calmly, “and is walking back to his truck… I see another man talking to the owner of the first car.”

  Damn! Can’t Emily grasp how serious this timing is? Calm was not in my voice when I asked her, “What does this other man look like?”

  “Athletic build, nearly six feet, sandy-colored hair. He’s getting into the blue car.”

  It was Collins. My mind started racing on what I could do to delay his departure. Emily continued. “The tow truck has moved. The first man is pulling out his car… The blue car, a Honda Civic, is following him.”

  My watch read 7.48 a.m. We had delayed Collins by only six minutes instead of my planned twenty. That would scarcely be enough time and totally insufficient if he did not go to the drive-through for breakfast.

  “What would you like me to do now?” asked Emily. My mind was racing. I could not think of anything she could do to delay Collins without raising suspicion. I gave out instructions while thinking furiously.

  “Wallace, tail the Honda and see if it goes into the McDonald’s drive-through, and let me know immediately.”

  Then I said, “Emily, I want you to go to our leased office at the address I gave you, where you will be joined by DEA agents. You are to assist them in the planned raid.”

  The Wallace team member reported Collins had indeed gone into the McDonald’s drive-through. We had gained a probable five minutes. My anxiety level remained high, amplified by Verbinski’s team reporting Perana had just transitioned from Highway 5 onto 78 at 7:48 a.m. I calculated Perana would then arrive at the drop house at 7:56 p.m. and leave at 8:01 a.m., four minutes later than I had initially predicted. With Collins delayed by just six minutes, there was only a fifteen-minute gap between the drop departure and the pickup, scarcely enough time for Bolder to get to the house, go inside, find the package, insert the marked bills, and leave without being seen by Collins.

  I radioed my team. “There’s a problem. Perana is running four minutes late, and we’ve delayed Collins by only six minutes. Come up with ideas to slow him down.”

  After a few seconds, Steve said, “Have Baker or Watts, who are on the approach street, cross the road in front of Collins’s car. That should help.”

  “That’s only going to give you a few seconds,” said Baker.

  “Any more ideas, guys? I’m desperate,” I said in a stressed voice.

  The Wallace team member at the Emerald exit offered, “As soon as we see the Honda, we can pull out in front of it and drive on the slow side.”

  “Excellent. Do it.” I thought about the suggestion a little longer. “No, don’t do it. If you can see the Honda. He can see you, an
d pulling out to drive slowly in front of him will look too suspicious.”

  “How about pulling out in front of him to cross to the other side of the exit bridge?” said Wallace.

  “That sounds better. Go ahead. Both the Emerald or the Melrose exits.” But I knew that would produce a delay of mere seconds, and I needed more. “More ideas, guys,” I pleaded.

  “Call the Highway Patrol and see if they can slow traffic down,” suggested Steve.

  “Great idea.” What luck to have such a smart person like Steve on my team.

  I phoned the Highway Patrol immediately and asked to speak to the director of their operations center. I quickly introduced myself to him and asked if he had a patrol car that could immediately slow down traffic briefly on the eastbound portion of Highway 78 between Oceanside and Vista. “It’s a very urgent matter to delay a particular car in a very important operation,” I added. I stayed on the line as the director asked the dispatch where highway patrol cars were located.

  “I don’t have an eastbound car that can help you that quickly,” he said two minutes later. My heart pounded. He continued. “My nearest car is stationed at the westbound College Dr exit. I can have him slow traffic on the north side of the freeway. That should give you a little slowing down on the eastbound side.”

  “Anything you can do will help,” I begged.