170 Baja Blitz by Don Pendleton

Author:Don Pendleton
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

11

Darren Lassiter rarely drank on duty, but today he had decided to make an exception. The bourbon scorched his throat at first, but then the old familiar warmth began to spread, anxiety giving way to an artificial sense of wellbeing. He could understand how some weak individuals gave in to drink or drugs and tried to wipe out their problems with chemicals.

The problem was, it didn't work. The next time sobriety crept up and caught you by surprise, you found the same old problems waiting for you, often multiplied.

Still, he didn't think another shot would hurt him.

A rapping on his office door distracted Lassiter. He tucked the fifth of whiskey out of sight and slid the desk drawer shut before he said, "Come on."

The frown on Vincent Myers's face summed up their situation perfectly. "What's up?" the sergeant from narcotics asked.

"You know Louisa Escobar?"

"The Mex who works for you?"

"That's right."

Myers shrugged. "I know her when I see her. Why?"

"She's working on that business from the other night. You haven't talked to Grissom?"

"Not today."

"We've got a problem," Lassiter began, and briefly ran through his discussion with Escobar, followed by his meet with Ramos.

At his mention of a living witness to the killings Myers shook his head in solemn disbelief. "No way. I just don't buy it."

"Say you're right. It costs us nothing but some time to check it out. But if there is a witness..."

"What's the program?" Myers asked.

"I want you tailing Escobar tonight. There may be nothing to it, but we can't take any chances. Keep me posted. I'll send Harvey out to spell you later on."

"Suppose she comes up with something?"

Lassiter had thought of little else the past few hours, and he had an answer ready now. "We do whatever's necessary, Vincent. Just like always."

"Rubbing out a cop, that's heavy."

"We've been into heavy shit for quite a while in case you hadn't noticed."

"Wets and dealers, 'man. A day or two, it's off the news. Nobody even gives a shit. We ice a uniform—especially one who's covering this other deal—we'll fucking never hear the end of it."

"It hasn't come to that," Lassiter said.

"But if it does."

"I don't hear you suggesting an alternative. If there's a witness out there, even one chance in a million he could finger you, we have to finish cleaning house. I don't want any comebacks from the other night, you understand?"

"We should've let Sylvester do the job himself."

"It's just a little late for 'should have,' don't you think? We're in it now, and that's what matters. Now take off before you miss her leaving."

"I don't like this, man. Just so you know."

"I'll make a note," Lassiter replied. "Now move it."

When he was alone once more, the homicide lieutenant rose and moved to stand before his window. He imagined he could see Pacific Highway, Harbor Drive beyond and San Diego Bay with sailboats putting out to sea. He wished he could join them, simply sail away and put the past few days behind him. Maybe wipe the

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