What Happened To Flynn Read online

  The team member at the Melrose exit radioed. “The Mercury passed me at 7:56 a.m.”

  Shit. Perana was late. He must have run into traffic. He would now arrive at the drop house at 7:58 a.m. and leave at about 8:03 a.m., while Collins would arrive at 8:16 a.m., leaving a time gap of only thirteen minutes for our entry operation. And I needed a minimum of fourteen minutes.

  “Damn,” I yelled into the microphone. “Perana must have hit traffic. He’s four minutes late. I just hope to hell Collins got delayed also.”

  Deputy Watts, jogging at the end of the street, radioed two minutes later. “The white Mercury just passed me.”

  “The delivery man has arrived,” called in Steve at 7:58 a.m. “It’s the same white Mercury… He’s entering the house now, carrying a briefcase… This damn dog wants to pee at every shrub along the way.”

  At 8:03 a.m., Steve reported. “The perp’s driving off… He’s rounded the corner.”

  “Hanson and Bolder, get to the house!” I yelled.

  “We’re already on our way,” Hanson replied. “We’re at the house now,” said Hanson at 8:04 a.m. “Norman’s at the lockbox… He’s going inside.”

  “Follow him inside, Hanson,” I commanded. “You search upstairs while Bolder looks downstairs.”

  “Will do,” came Hanson’s reply. “Just as well. He forgot the package sealer.”

  “Don’t look in medicine cabinets,” I added. “They don’t have enough room for the package.”

  My watch read 8:06 a.m. when a team member radioed, “The white Mercury has passed me at the Melrose exit and is getting onto Highway 78, going west.’

  “Monitor his progress south,” I said.

  “We’re on it,” replied Verbinski.

  I could hear Bolder and Hanson speaking into their respective radios as they searched. “Downstairs toilet vanity, no.” I could hear doors banging. “Master bedroom closets, no… Upstairs toilet vanity, no… Master bedroom vanity, no… Kitchen closets, no… Guest room closet, no… Furnace closet, no.” Finally, Bolder yelled. “Come down, Dane. I’ve found the package in the hot water closet. It’s got a lot of money in it.”

  My watch said 8:08 a.m. Is the package sealed? I wondered.

  “Dane, got a pocket knife?” came the answer.

  “There’s a lot of money inside,” added Bolder.

  Hanson must have had such a knife, because the next thing I heard was: “I’m plugging in the electric sealer. It’ll take a minute to warm up.”

  Jesus! Why didn’t he plug it in earlier? My pulse rising, I barked into the microphone, “Baker and Watts, don’t try to block the Honda Civic. I’ll have Steve do it with his dog instead. Got that, Steve?”

  In the middle of this chaos, the thought ran through my mind: Why would Bolder’s parents give their son a name sounding like “No Man?”

  A team member at the Emerald Dr. exit reported at 8:13 a.m., “The blue Honda just passed here. Sorry, I wasn’t able to delay it.”

  Collins would arrive in four minutes. I yelled into the microphone, “Hanson, what’s the status?”

  He responded, “We’re in the middle of the sealing.”

  At 8:15 a.m., I roared, “Hanson, Take the door key, lock the front door, put the key in the lockbox, and drive off immediately.”

  “Without Norman?”

  “Yes,” I screeched. Then I said into the microphone, my voice high and excited, “Bolder, you don’t have time to leave by the front door. When Baker or Watts report seeing the blue Honda, put the package back in the water closet even if you haven’t finished sealing it. Then take your gear and exit the back door and sit down where you can’t be seen.”

  Baker radioed, “I see a blue Honda coming towards me… It’s turning the corner onto our street… Our car left the corner just before, but I only see one person in it, though.”

  I looked at my watch…8:16 a.m.

  “I’m jogging down the street,” radioed Watts. “I see Steve and the dog crossing the road and the car slowing down… The car has stopped in front of the house… The dog is peeing against the house-for-sale signpost. The owner of the car is talking to Steve.”

  Steve radioed, “Collins has entered the house.”

  My watch said 8:18 a.m. My pulse raced. My mind was wracked with questions: Was the package adequately sealed? Did Bolder leave the house before Collins entered? Did Bolder lock the back door when he left? Will he be noticed by Collins? I would have to wait until Collins left and Steve reported in. I temporized with mundane tasks. I radioed Drew Ryan to give him a status report. He told me he was at our leased office with Jackson and a pretty young deputy.

  “She and other deputies in waiting vehicles outside will help you in the raid,” I told him.

  I asked where the white Mercury was. “It’s on Highway 5 going south” came a response.

  “Are you ready for me to follow and arrest Perana?” asked Baker.

  “You can head on south, but don’t arrest him until our raid is in progress. I’ll let you know when,” I replied. “Verbinski’s team will let you know where Perana stops at.”

  Steve radioed: “I’ve walked the dog down to the end of the street and I’ve just watched Collins leave the drop house at 8:24 a.m. That’s eight minutes, longer than his usual four minutes. What could that be due to?” I pondered on Steve’s observation and worried about it. I watched the transponder on the Honda car and felt relieved that it moved steadily in the direction of Collins’ studio and not to his apartment. Now that Collins had left, I instructed Hanson to pick up Bolder and report back to me.

  Bolder radioed two minutes later. “I was able to insert a roll of marked bills into the package and pretty well seal it before I went out the back door. I could hear Collins take a dump in the toilet before he left.”

  So that was why he’d taken longer to leave than usual. I asked Bolder to reenter the home to confirm the package was gone. He reported back minutes later that it had indeed been taken.

  My voice had become much calmer when I told Steve to go to Swift’s office and direct the sheriff deputies. I radioed Wallace to see where Collins’s car was. His team member reported Collins had exited his car and was climbing the stairs to his studio.

  Jackson radioed me from the leased office to say Collins had entered his studio and that he had immediately called Forbes to get the necessary warrants signed at the federal courthouse. Verbinski kept me and Baker posted on Perana’s travel south. I radioed Wallace and told him his work was done and he could release his team. Steve radioed that he was at the leased office waiting for the signal for the raid to proceed.

  But the signal did not come, and I started getting nervous again. Ryan called me at 9:10 a.m. “Forbes reported the only judge available in the federal courthouse was Judge Morretti, known to be a stickler. I told him to go ahead. But then Forbes called back to say the judge did not think there was probable cause to arrest Wayne Collins. Morretti said Andy Collins being his brother was insufficient. I think you should come with me to discuss these warrants with the judge. He has some concerns about raiding the Swift office until we have confirmation that the drug money package has entered that office.”

  Damn. They should have waited for a more compliant judge.

  CHAPTER 22

  I radioed Thompson to tell him what had happened. Ryan called back to say Morretti would see all of us at eleven o’clock. One of the protocols amongst judges is that they don’t allow you to shop around in getting these warrants. All of them will ask if you have asked any judge prior, and they won’t touch it if you have. Also, if you don’t tell them that you tried one judge before who declined to issue the warrant or had questions about it, the detective requesting the warrants will be blacklisted. So, I knew we would be stuck with Judge Moretti. I grew increasingly concerned Swift and Arzeta would start counting the money, find it contained more than expected, and start asking questions. It had the potential to screw up our operation. And I desperately needed to arrest And
y Collins before he left his studio.

  Thompson, waiting in North County to search and seize at Swift’s house, was as dismayed as I at the holdup. He told me to go with the others to see Judge Moretti. Ryan called me to confirm I was coming to the meeting. He told me Niles Svenson, who had approved the warrant affidavits, would also attend. I grabbed a late breakfast so I would be fortified the meeting, and I reached the judge’s chamber a few minutes before eleven o’clock to find Morretti drinking coffee. Moretti had been a judge for twenty years and had a reputation for strict adherence to the law. He came from a wealthy family, so he was beholden to nobody. It also meant he rubbed shoulders with San Diego’s society crowd, which would include Larry Swift. I introduced myself, and he waved me into a seat opposite Forbes. The judge sipped his coffee, and we chatted about social matters, including the status of the economy, until Ryan and Svenson arrived ten minutes later. Then business started.

  “I have problems with the warrants for the arrest of Wayne Collins and the search of his premises and home,” said Moretti. “I do not see the nexus.”

  Ryan looked at me to reply. “Andy Collins, who clearly has drug money in his possession, is a real estate agent who is brokered to his brother Wayne Collins,” I said. “Andy would not have a lockbox key and access to these vacant homes without the relationship with his brother.”

  “I see,” said Morretti. “Your man”—he pointed to Forbes--“did not mention the agency relationship in the warrant affidavit.”

  Svenson’s face wrinkled. Morretti took a sip of his coffee before continuing. “Mr. Swift is a very prominent man in the county, and I need to feel confident your suspicions of his money laundering are well founded. You only suspect that there is a physical connection between the studio and Mr. Swift’s office. Is it not possible that Andy Collins is the money launderer? Is it not possible that he and his brother are buying property with cash? Have you checked real estate transfers in this county and others? Have you checked whether the Collins brothers have flown to countries where banks are more willing to handle large cash deposits?”

  I looked at Ryan to see if he expected me to answer these questions, but he replied, “We have not checked any flights taken by the Collins brothers. These are not stupid people. They would be highly unlikely to take the risk of transporting large bundles of cash in their bags, which would be subject to search at the airport. If they were the money launderers, we would see some evidence of it in their lifestyles. The older brother lives in a modest house in San Marcos and is a co-owner of a rented condominium in Escondido. He drives a 2005 Chrysler minivan, and his wife drives an older Volkswagen. The younger brother lives in a rented apartment in Oceanside and drives a 2004 Honda. Money launderers nearly always flaunt their wealth, and we see none of that in the Collins brothers. We believe Andy Collins is a mere courier whose activity in the scheme, in fact, may be unknown to his older brother. But we are not sure, and we need to search to find out.”

  “Hm, I see,” said the judge. “What about Swift? I take it you are monitoring Andy Collins to see that he has not taken the money out of his studio.”

  “That’s right,” said Ryan. He has not left since he returned. We are very worried that he might leave carrying his photography bag. We would have problems if we then arrested him on suspicion of money laundering and there was no money in his bag. Furthermore, the arrest in the parking lot would quickly tell Swift that we are on to him. He could then destroy his accounting books and computer records. He or Arzeta or any other associate could walk out with all the money that Andy gathered and dispose of it before we could search his office.”

  The judge did not look convinced. Ryan looked at me, so I spoke up. “These arrest and search warrants are all for money laundering. The matter arose because I was investigating the disappearance of a man called Flynn, whom we now believe was murdered. The reason for his murder is that he observed a man, Swift’s uncle, picking up and counting a money drop, a drop he wrote to the DEA about. We know Andy Collins and a felon called Joe Bailey went to the fishing camp, and we believe they carried out the murder there.”

  “I see,” said the judge. “Have you obtained a warrant for the arrest of these two men?”

  “Yes, sir,” I replied. “We have a warrant to arrest Bailey for attempted murder in San Diego County. Sonoma County would have jurisdiction for Flynn’s murder, since we believe it took place in that county. They are still reviewing the evidence. Meanwhile, we are getting warrants from a state judge to arrest Andy Collins and Swift for conspiracy to commit murder.”

  “You’ve made a good case,” said the judge, smiling at me. “I’ll go ahead and issue the warrants.” He paused. “Good gracious, you are requesting search and seizure warrants for all of Mr. Swift’s businesses.”

  “That is correct, sir,” said Ryan. “They are all part of his criminal enterprise.”

  “But you do not have arrest warrants for any of the operators of these businesses.”

  “That is because we believe they are all operated legitimately and that the operators are unaware of the money laundering.”

  “Hm! I’ll sign these warrants, but I suspect you may be challenged in court later on as to the adequacy of the connection.”

  Ryan immediately phoned Jackson at the Swift office site to say that we had all the arrest and seizure warrants and that the pertinent ones would be faxed immediately to him. I returned to the communication center. Jackson called me to confirm receipt of the faxes and to tell me that his crew had begun the raid of Swift’s office. I notified Thompson that the warrants were in hand. He told me to get staff couriers to take the warrants to detectives and sheriff deputies now standing near Swift’s various businesses and awaiting the signal to raid them.

  Jackson kept me informed of his progress at the Swift office. “Steve Hall and DEA agents have gone upstairs to arrest the Collins brothers. My crew are herding Swift’s employees to one side and are interrogating them… We have demanded entry into the secure portion of the office… Nobody inside has responded to our demand… I’ve waited a minute and have ordered the entry door broken down… Two of my officers tried forcing it, but they say it is steel reinforced and has a very strong high-security lock… It will need to be opened with a drill and a sabre saw… The equipment has been brought in.”

  I could hear the drill and sabre saw operating for about fifteen minutes before Jackson started speaking again. “We’re in the room, and a man is coming out of the washroom.”

  I heard a new voice. “What the devil are you doing in my office?”

  And then Jackson was speaking again. “Mr. Swift, you are under arrest for money laundering. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney and to have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be provided for you at government expense.”

  I could hear the click of handcuffs and Jackson ask, “Where is Mr. Arzeta?” There was no reply from Swift. “Did you phone Rafael just before we entered?”

  “No,” came the reply quickly—too quickly, I thought.

  “Mr. Swift, will you give us the combination numbers to your safe here?” I heard Swift giving Jackson a set of numbers. “Jones, take this man out to the car” came Jackson’s voice.

  I then heard Swift yelling to his staff in the outer office, “Someone call Pearson Sweeny!” I knew Sweeny to be an important attorney in town, one who regularly handled upscale clients and, of course, would charge upscale prices for doing so. I wondered if Swift could afford him after all his assets and cash were seized.

  Jackson started speaking again. “There’s no loose cash in the office, but there is a large safe, very modern and professional. It’s probably seventy inches high and thirty-six inches in depth and width, with a monstrous four-dial combination lock Jones, go to the patrol car and ask Mr. Swift again for the combination… There’s a bill-counting machine in t
he corner… There are three computers in here… We are loading them in our evidence van as we speak… Okay, Jones, let’s try those numbers… It’s so damned easy to overshoot when dialing… No, it’s not working… Jones, go to Swift and verify those numbers… There are printers, copiers, and filing cabinets, which the crew are hauling out… So, one of those numbers was transposed… Let’s try again… No, it’s not working… I think Swift is stalling. Shane, please call in a locksmith. Tell them it’s a Metro safe, model 673, with a four-combination dial system.”

  I made the call to our contract locksmith and listened to Jackson talking on our communications system. “I am going back into the outer office… The staff there are visibly shocked, but are cooperating… Evidence technicians are counting any cash employees had in front of them and are issuing receipts… They are labeling each computer… They are boxing up records, labeling them, and writing on them the name of the pertinent staff member controlling that account.”

  I heard two women sobbing. I heard a man asking, “Have we lost our jobs?” I sympathized with them. They were innocents caught up in a criminal enterprise. Jackson kept his line open. I heard another man say, “I demand to see your warrants for this arrest, search, and seizure.”

  “And you are?” asked Jackson.

  “I am Pearson Sweeny, and I am Mr. Swift’s attorney. Again, I must see your arrest and search warrants.”

  I could sense Jackson giving documents to the attorney. “I don’t see the safe mentioned in this warrant,” claimed Sweeny.

  “It says search to be conducted of all the interior of the Swift office including all appurtenances,” said Jackson.”

  “It does not mention the safe, and I request you desist from searching it. My client’s business is gravely impacted by this illegal search and seizure,” Sweeney said in a firm but louder voice.

  “So noted,” replied Jackson, who called me twenty minutes later to say the locksmith had arrived. Five minutes later, the safe had been opened. “There’s a lot of cash inside,” he said, “too much for us to count here. We are going to bag it up and count it at the office. There are banknotes in bank bags, banknotes in rubber-band-bound bundles, and bank notes in marked trays. There are bags of coins, some loose and some in wrappers. There’s quite a haul here.”