Chapter 12

They could have waitedfor the searches to come back on the entities revealed in the encrypted files Marsh, Jamie, and Farmer had cracked with the passkeys from Luis. But Levi—and Luis—had ultimately made the call to accelerate matters.

Levi, because they were coming up fast on their David-Kwan Friday deadline. Luis, because he wanted to know who Ward was laundering money for.

While thankfully not through the company accounts, Ward had been using RWK's connections with suppliers to buy equipment, food stuffs, and other goods at an industry discount. With dirty money. Ward would then sell those goods on the secondary market and get paid in clean money that was funneled back to his client. A misadventure Ward had entered into during that period of failures—when he'd spiraled and tried to take his life to escape the pressure and his own bad decisions. But then things had turned around and Ward had wanted out of the laundering business.

At least that was the story Marsh had deduced from the invoices and notes Ward had left in his encrypted files. The pieces all fit, including Ward's dead body in the lagoon and the launderers' desperation to clean up after themselves. To find the evidence they'd thought was still in the house but which had been unintentionally removed by Luis.

"You don't have to do this," Levi had told Luis earlier that afternoon. "We can take it from here. At this point, they don't even know you have the information they're after."

"You don't have to put yourself in danger," Marsh had added. He liked Luis. Respected how forthcoming and cooperative he'd been through all this. He was an innocent wrapped up in Ward's mess; he didn't have to put his life or business on the line.

"I need to do this for myself," Luis had replied, voice thick with tears but no less adamant for it. "And for Ward." He still had his friend's back, even knowing what he'd done, even with Ward gone. Marsh respected him more for it. A deep breath later, he'd placed the call to the number on the invoices and left the message they'd rehearsed with him. "Hello. This is Luis Rivera. Ward's old business partner. I have the information you've been looking for. I'm interested in learning more."

It was a believable enough scenario—that Luis had come into possession of the incriminating evidence and wanted to revive the arrangement. A return text had arrived ten minutes later—a time later that evening and an address.

Which was how Marsh found himself between Jamie and Brax, in front of the monitors of the mobile command van. They were parked across the street from an industrial complex in Oceanside, waiting for the launderers to arrive for a seven o'clock meeting with Luis. Between them and the meeting site were four lanes of rush hour traffic and a steady stream of folks going to and from the complex. Organized in a U-configuration, the complex's three buildings were each a single story, four suites each, roll-up bay doors at the front of each unit. All but one of the units had their doors rolled down, tenants wisely staying cool in the sweltering heat.

Marsh would bet Levi was already sweating through his shirt under his tactical vest, positioned as he was in the lookout spot on the roof of the complex's center building. He'd wanted to be one of the primary tactical teams, but Marsh had pulled him aside and, admittedly unfairly, reminded him that David would be supremely pissed if Levi got shot two days before the wedding and had to delay it again. Levi had cursed Marsh's sudden but inevitable betrayal and conceded the primary posts, taking lookout instead.

"Teams report," he called, getting "Clear" replies from Farmer's team in the first unit of the right-side building and from Aidan's team in the center building, one unit over from where the meet would go down.

Charlie's "Incoming" from where she was circulating among other FBI agents pretending to be civilians at a company picnic at the far end of the left building drew Levi's bird's-eye view her direction.

His camera caught a gray Camry pulling into the parking lot, driving past the picnic area, and into a spot near the middle building. "Looks like a match," Jamie said. "Same make and model as the car Press identified the night of the break-in."

"Talley, you're up," Marsh said.

"Eyes on," Aidan confirmed.

Two white men climbed out of the car. The driver was middle-aged, suited, and carried himself with an air of authority. The passenger was younger, a bruiser who walked a step behind Mr. Suit on their way to the unit Luis waited out front of. Marsh would bet his Stetson that Bruiser was the person who'd trashed Press's home Saturday night. Fit the description, same as the car.

"Mr. Rivera," the suited man greeted, his words audible through the in-ear comm Luis wore. "Dayton McConnell," he said, hand extended.

"Run him," Marsh said to Jamie and Brax, the former checking all the sources, legit and otherwise, available to him, the latter on rap sheets and records. "Fifty-fifty shot it's an alias."

"I was surprised to hear from you," McConnell said.

"I was surprised to learn what Ward was up to," Luis replied.

"Were you?"

"He didn't let on. Shame, as I might have been able to help."

"I'd like to hear how," McConnell said. "If you have what I need."

Luis nodded, and McConnell gestured toward the door. Bruiser keyed in a code on the lock pad, and the group entered, disappearing from view.

"Farmer, Henby, second position," Levi said, moving their teams closer, the three teams now surrounding the unit, Levi maintaining lookout.

"How do you think you can help us, Mr. Rivera?"

Luis didn't reply immediately, and Marsh's heart lodged in his throat, fearing the worst for a moment, until Luis finally spoke again. "Are you in the tortilla business? This is a lot of masa."

Marsh pointed at Brax. "Check for orders in Ward's invoices. Do we have Ward buying the masa with dirty money?" Then to Jamie. "See if?—"

"If it was sold on the secondary," Jamie said, following. "On it."

Marsh tuned back into the conversation, shifting between camera views, monitoring for any additional activity.

"We lost our best trader," McConnell said. "Product stalled."

"Lost or fired?" Luis countered.

"He wasn't adhering to company policy."

"Levi?" Marsh prompted.

"Hold," he answered. "Not enough yet."

Marsh wanted to say something to Luis, to provide him some encouragement; they were so close, but the chef had elected not to go two-way on the comms, afraid he might give away the op with his reactions.

"Got the masa," Brax said. "Ward purchased it two days before his death."

"Haven't found it sold yet, but McConnell's an alias," Jamie said. "Real name is Joseph Gallagher. Specializes in laundering money for white-collar criminals. Explains the Brioni suit."

A few quick keystrokes after that, Brax chimed in. "Got him. Was operating out of Chicago until he moved west two years ago. LAPD and SD Sheriff have both brought him in for questioning, multiple times."

"I need assurances," Luis said to Gallagher. "None of this can get back to RWK."

"We had the same agreement with Mr. Ward. We'll honor that, if you have what we're looking for."

"Flash drives." Luis clicked them together twice, the signal they'd agreed on.

"Talley, Henby," Levi said. "First position. Farmer, hold." The moment Luis handed over those flash drives, he would be at his most vulnerable, no longer of use to Gallagher. The tactical teams had to be ready to act.

"These contain all of Ward's invoices and records," Luis said, as they'd also rehearsed. "The dirty money you sent him, what he bought, what he sold, and the clean money he returned. This is what you need?"

"Are there any other copies?"

"None. I didn't figure that would win me any business."

"The masa was sold," Jamie said. "But neither the product nor the money was delivered. Holy shit."

"What?" Marsh said, whipping his gaze to him.

Jamie dragged a phone log onto the middle monitor, a row highlighted. "Ward called the sheriff's department with a tip the night before he was killed. They never called him back."

"So that's why local is so determined to ignore this," Marsh said.

"And that's why Ward was killed," Levi said. "Final straw."

"And now," Brax said, "the cops are gonna ignore it again to cover their own incompetence and a leak."

"At the expense of Press's safety," Farmer chimed in. "Fuck that."

His vehemence almost distracted Marsh from the conversation still going on the other end of the comm. "I can move this masa by tomorrow," Luis said. "I can move more."

"All right, Mr. Rivera. If the money is in the accounts by tomorrow morning, we can work together."

"And if it's not?"

"Then you'll be fired too."

"Talley, Henby, go!" Levi ordered. "Farmer, back up!"

Chaos erupted over the comms, Marsh watching as FBI agents streamed into the unit, catching Gallagher and Bruiser off guard, Aidan and Charlie taking them down before they could draw the weapons they were carrying, and giving the rest of the agents time to form a wall around Luis.

By the time Levi made it down from the roof and into the unit, Gallagher and Bruiser were in cuffs and being read their rights.

"You got what you need?" Luis asked him.

"We did," Levi said. "And we couldn't have done it without you."

"Without Ward," Luis said with a nod for his friend. "In the end, he gave us what we needed."

He had. Case closed with explanations about more than one aspect of the case.

But not the most unexpected explanation of the week. That came with Farmer charging into the unit, stalking directly up to Bruiser, and slugging him with a right hook. "That's for wrecking my boyfriend's new place." Then kicked him with his metal foot. "And that's for scaring the shit out of him."

"Something you want to tell us, Farmer?" Levi said, and Marsh could hear the grin in his voice, could see it through the body cam on Farmer's gear.

"Yeah," he said, not bothering to hide his own smile. "My plus one for the wedding is Press. Hope that's not a problem."

"Not at all," Marsh said, Levi completing his sentence, "We'll see you both on Saturday."