Chapter 24
Hudson
Research was a powerful tool.
I’d done enough of it in my life to know what to look for in my sessions of discovery.
After my lovely guest had finally managed to close her eyes, I’d sat down, called in a couple of favors, and had spent an exorbitant amount of time on detailing Worthington’s various moves over the course of the last year and a half.
Men in power often went to great lengths to hide their alternate lives.
However, those who believed they could never be caught often left clues.
The breadcrumbs were there. I simply needed to form them into a loaf of bread.
I’d also spent time going over records on Jacob Jones, including his last known address, frequented locations and certain affinities. People were creatures of habit.
Even the most secretive criminals had vices. There wasn’t a single human alive who didn’t.
One in particular that I’d found interesting was his affinity for a certain coffee shop.
It was in a bad part of town owned by the Delgados.
They used typical methods of extortion with the various businesses, taking money from them in exchange for fake security.
That allowed the poor business owners to remain alive while being forced to endure having their fine establishments used for drug deals.
As I sat at the corner table, I was surprised how normal the atmosphere seemed.
There were plenty of customers starting their day off with a good cup of java and a pastry.
I had to admit the Colombian coffee was delicious, even if there was irony in the fact the coffee shop served that particular brew.
Given the Colombians had turned against Delgado.
Although as I learned more about timing and activity, my instinct was digging at me.
Something was off about their estranged relationship.
While I believed Chase in that the DEA was all over it, I also knew a different perspective often helped in dealing with scum of the earth.
As I took a sip of coffee, I checked my watch.
If Jones was a creature of habit, things would play well today.
One phone call I’d made had been to the owner of the coffee shop, who’d told me somewhat under duress that Jones always arrived at seven-thirty to handle early business.
Usually, drugs weren’t sold, but he used the time with a couple of thugs to start the day off with planning their next moves.
If what the coffee shop owner said was true, Jones was also starting the rounds of collecting required funds. I would have thought the act beneath him, but what a pleasant surprise it wasn’t.
When the door opened and he walked inside, a sly smile crossed my face. There he was dressed in a slick suit and acting as if he owned the place. A far cry from the orange jumpsuit I’d enjoyed seeing him in.
I waited and watched from the limited shadows as the owner himself brought coffee.
The poor guy was shaking. I hoped for the man he’d heeded my words not to warn Jones of my appearance.
If not, it wouldn’t go well for him in his next court hearing.
Maybe it was just a reckless driving citation, but I’d use the power of my influence.
All was fair in war.
I waited as the men hunkered over the table, completely oblivious that I was seated only a few yards away. They were loud, laughing about something terribly funny to them.
When I was finished with my coffee I stood, tossing the cup then slipping one hand into my trouser pocket. The move revealed the weapon I had in my holster.
I wasn’t in a hurry. Why bother? I simply moved toward their table. One of his guests noticed me first, immediately bristling. There was instant recognition.
When he dared act as if he was going to reach for his weapon while obviously announcing they had a visitor, I shook my head and unsnapped the strap on the holster. Good boy. He moved his hand away. Gunning down a judge wasn’t in their best interest and he knew it.
Jones flicked his eyes in my direction, sitting back in his chair as if completely unbothered by my appearance.
I moved closer, stopping just a few feet away. I took a few seconds, nodding to the other three men before locking eyes with Jones.
And smiling.
The seconds turned into a full minute. That was enough.
As I walked away, I allowed him to hear my laugh.
Then I walked out.
As expected, they didn’t try to follow me, but I was certain they were watching from the window until I walked around the corner and out of sight.
I relaxed in my car, enjoying the quiet time, able to see the entrance to the coffee shop without straining. Everything so far was going according to plan.
Less than fifteen minutes later, they popped out like weasels from a hole in the ground. Jones had upgraded his Charger to a flashy Mercedes. Drug money paid well.
Before he climbed into his car, he scanned the area not once but twice. I guess I’d unnerved him. Given where I’d parked, there was no possibility he could see my location. After he pulled away from the curb, I started the engine.
He pulled away into traffic and I eased onto the road a few car lengths behind.
I could easily keep track of him and did as I inched a little closer.
The red lights were in my favor. So was the traffic.
Less than five minutes later, I was right behind him.
As soon as the light turned green, I moved into the other lane, waiting as the traffic rolled forward. Well. Well. Luck was still in my favor.
The light ahead had already turned yellow. He was forced to stop. So was I. Only I pulled next to him. We both had our windows down and I kept my hand on the steering wheel, waiting a few seconds before casually turning my head toward him.
He wore no expression except I noticed a slight tic on the corner of his mouth. There was no reason to make a single gesture. I was simply making certain he knew I was soon to be in his face.
When the light turned green, I headed toward the entrance to the interstate.
That was just the beginning.
If he wanted to play games, so would I.
And I’d only be a few minutes late to the glorious press conference. I headed through town, more than eager to catch the illustrious attorney general in a lie.
Or a boast.
That was one of his foibles that I intended to exploit.
As I drove, my thoughts as always turned to Valentina. She’d seemed quieter than normal while we’d shared a cup of coffee together.
I hadn’t been able to tell if she was trying to determine whether she could tolerate the man I was turning into. Maybe that’s why just before I’d walked out the door her words had surprised the hell out of me.
“Knock them dead. Literally.”
Something I might use in the future.
As usual, there was a crowd. But I knew James Worthington well enough to know that he always orchestrated his audience, beefing it up with people in his employ to make himself appear that much more important.
The fucking cockroach probably wouldn’t like that I was in attendance, but too bad. He’d crossed every line.
For the last time.
There were few things that disgusted me as much as a pontificating politician and that’s exactly what James Worthington was and had been since he’d accepted the position.
No, I didn’t like him. We’d sparred more than once, his attitude and the way he handled his office abhorrent.
We’d been successful at keeping a distance from each other.
The press conference had already been in motion prior to my arrival.
Maybe I’d purposely wanted to be late, fearful I couldn’t stomach the full load of bullshit he doled out.
Every time he stepped in front of an audience, he reacted the same way.
He gloated about his successes for the first fifteen or twenty minutes so in essence I’d missed nothing.
As anticipated, there were a half dozen news stations in the audience. They were lapping up every word as if the man was God.
Yes, he was charismatic, but I’d learned quite a bit about him. He didn’t like to be challenged and had a very short fuse.
Just as James mentioned Jacob Jones’ name, I felt a presence next to me. I didn’t bristle because I knew the aftershave.
“Good to see you, Gabriel.”
He laughed. “I’m glad to see no one can sneak up on you.”
“Comes from my days of being in the Marines. I assume Chase sent you.”
“You wound me. You don’t think I have my own connections?”
“Then do share with me what you’ve learned.”
“First thing. The mole was discovered. Some shit by the name of Steven Sloan. He was an intern with Worthington all through law school. Funny how he ended up working for the prosecutor’s office.
It took a little while to dig him up since the guy was good at hiding his tracks.
But not good enough.” He pulled out a folded group of papers.
I was momentarily caught on the information already provided. I knew Steven Sloan. He’d assisted on several of Jasmine Guthrie’s cases that had found their way into my courtroom. Including the case against Jacob Jones. What a small world.
But certainly no coincidence.
An even smaller one given I noticed the guy dressed in a dapper suit standing dangerously close to his mentor. Steven Sloan in the flesh. Rotten apples didn’t fall too far from the tree.
“Plus, there’s more,” Gabriel continued. “I think you’ll find everything very interesting. You do have a giant sense of humor.”
As James droned on about how the prosecutor’s office was broken, I glanced at what he’d brought. And I smiled bigger than I had when catching Jones off guard. “Well, well. You outdid yourself.”
“I’m glad you approve. Chase and Kendrick are actively preparing some leaked information for the prosecutor’s office. Now, you’ll notice the information could get thrown out in court depending on Worthington’s explanations.”