Swimming To Catalina

“Oh, parcels amounting to around two hundred and fifty acres.”

“My God,” Sturmack said. “Don’t tell him things like that!”

“David, shut up, I’m talking,” Ippolito said. “Mr. Barrington is not going to reveal a word of this to anybody; it would not be in his best interests, would it, Mr. Barrington?”

“Not if you and I can come to an arrangement,” Stone said.

“Tell you what,” Ippolito said, standing. “David and I are going to a meeting that bears on our conversation. Why don’t you join us? You’ll learn a lot more about what we’re doing.”

For a moment Stone was alarmed, but he knew that Rick’s men and the feds, when they began receiving transmissions from his wire, would move with them. “I’d like that,” he said. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” Ippolito said. He pressed the buzzer under his desk again, and Tommy and Zip appeared. “Escort Mr. Barrington to transportation,” he said. “We’re all going together.”

“This way, Mr. Barrington,” Tommy said, indicating the side door.

Stone stood up and walked toward the door, followed by Ippolito and Sturmack. He was expecting a private elevator, but instead, the door led to a hallway, which led to a staircase going up. They were already on the top floor, and this did not seem like a good idea to Stone.

“Tell me,” he said to Ippolito as they walked up the stairs, “have thepolice ever gotten wind of what you’re up to?”

“Certainly not,” Ippolito said. They emerged onto the rooftop, where a helicopter was waiting, its blades begi

“Great,” Stone said. “If thepolice aren’t on to you, then I think you can pull off this deal. Where are we going in thishelicopter?”

“You’ll see,” Ippolito said, but his words were drowned out by the helicopter’s rotors as they started to spin.

62

In the garage, Rick Grant and Dino listened to their radio as the elevator doors opened and closed, as people got on and off. Then they heard Stone say, “I’m here.”

“Jesus,” Dino said, “that’s some wire. I want some of those for my people.”

“Shhh,” Rick said. “He’s in the reception room.”

They could hear Stone begin to a

“They found the wire,” Dino said, opening the car door. “Let’s go.”

“No, wait. Nobody has searched him; we’d have heard that. He’s just in a place that’s blocking the transmission. Wait and listen.”

They began to hear snatches of words, nothing intelligible, just a word or two at a time.

“At least he’s got them talking,” Rick said. “We’ve still got the tape to fall back on.”

They continued to listen to the static, with an occasional word coming through. “Maybe the problem is between us and the van,” Rick said. “Let’s get out there.” He got out of the car and started out of the garage, with Dino right behind him.

Rick crossed the street, walked around the van, and rapped sharply on its sliding door. The door opened a crack. “It’s Grant and Bacchetti,” Rick said. “Let us in.”

The door slid back, Rick and Dino crowded in and the door closed behind them.

“Are you getting anything from Barrington?” Rick asked.

“No, just a word now and then. Something’s screwing up the transmission.”

“I don’t like this,” Dino said. “I think we ought to go in.”

“Not yet,” Rick replied. “At least we know they’re talking. If we hear anything that sounds like trouble, I’ll give the word, but not until then.”

The static continued for a couple of more minutes, then suddenly stopped.

“I can hear them now,” the radio operator said.

“Turn that thing up,” Rick commanded.

They could hear footsteps on a hard floor, then the sound of people climbing steps, then Stone’s voice, loud and clear. “Have thepolice ever gotten wind of what you’re up to?”

Rick grabbed his handheld radio. “This is Grant,” he said, “it’s a go! Everybody move!”

Dino grabbed his arm. “Wait, listen.”

Stone’s voice came again. “Where are we going in thishelicopter?” Then the sound of the rotor, spi

“Oh, shit!” Grant hissed. He threw open the door of the van, stepped out, and looked up. A large black helicopter was rifting off the roof of the Safe Harbor Bank building. He stepped back into the van. “Put me on the command cha

“This is Lieutenant Richard Grant,” Rick said. “Patch me through to aviation.”

A moment later a woman’s voice came on. “LAPD aviation.”

“This is Lieutenant Richard Grant. Let me speak to your watch commandernow. ”

“Yes sir, putting you through to the watch commander.”

“Aviation watch commander,” a man’s voice said.

“This is Lieutenant Richard Grant; I’m speaking for the chief of detectives. A large black helicopter has just taken off from the Safe Harbor Bank building in downtown L.A., heading in a south-southwesterly direction. I want you to put everything you’ve got in the air and intercept that helicopter. Do not, repeat donot fire on it; one of our people is aboard. I want it forced down, and if it’s heading toward Mexico, underno circumstances is it to be allowed to cross the border.”

“Roger, I read you, Lieutenant,” the watch commander said.

“How many aircraft can you muster on this?”

“I’ve got two choppers on the pad, fueled and ready to go, and four others in the air in various places. I’ve also got two fixed-wing aircraft flying traffic.”

“Put them all on it. I want a maximum effort.”

“Roger, sir.”

“Remember, don’t let them cross the border; alert air traffic control not to issue any clearances to a chopper headed south, you read me?”

“Loud and clear, sir; we’re on it.”

“Hey, while you’re at it, have me picked up downtown. Where can your man land?”

“How many people, sir?”

“As many as it will hold.”

“I’ve got one in the air near MacArthur Park right now; it can take two besides the pilots.”

“We’re on the way.” Rick turned to a cop. “Crank this thing up and get me to MacArthur Park! And keep monitoring Barrington’s wire!”

Somebody slammed the door, and the van made a U-turn. Somebody put a flashing light on top and turned on a siren.

“I knew he shouldn’t have gone up there alone,” Dino said.

63

Stone sat on one of two leather-upholstered bench seats, between Tommy and Zip, while Ippolito and Sturmack occupied the opposite bench. It was remarkable how quiet it was inside the machine, he thought. The rotors were a distant thump.

“Where to, Mr. Ippolito?” the pilot asked over his shoulder.

“Ensenada,” Ippolito answered. “Maximum speed.”

“I’ll have to call ATC for a clearance,” the pilot said.

“Fuck the clearance; you get down low over the water and you get us to Ensenada fast. What’s our ETA?”

“That will take just a minute, sir.”

Sturmack spoke up. “Oney, what are you doing? Why do you want to go to Ensenada?”

“Because Tijuana is too obvious.” He picked up a cell phone fixed to a bulkhead and punched in a number. “This is Mr. Ippolito,” he said. “I want the G-5 off the ground immediately; file for Ensenada, full fuel, you got that?”

There was some sort of reply from the other end.

“Thirty minutes is too long, make it fifteen. I’ll meet the airplane there.” He hung up.

“Oney,” Sturmack said, “I don’t get it; why are we headed for Mexico?”

“Come on, David, you’re not that stupid. Do you think Barrington is dumb enough just to walk into my office with no backup? He didn’t kill Billy O’Hara, he’s not the type. O’Hara has spilled everything, and I’d give you odds my office is swarming with cops right this minute.”