The Real Estate Connection Ch. 08

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kiwiwolf
kiwiwolf
179 Followers

"If he is so concerned about our safety why didn't he just give us the files we wanted? Why all the song and dance in his office? This makes no fucking sense at all Grant. Can you tell us anything about the source of the Colombian Police memos that were in the files? What about Simmons? Why does his face keep on showing up in the photos on the discs you gave us?" My questions were coming thick and fast but I found I couldn't slow down. I needed answers and Grant seemed to be the man to give them to me.

"Hold on Craig… slow down brother." He was surprised by the quick fire barrage of questions.

"That's the problem Grant. I can't slow down today. Hemi has a guy in the basement of an empty house ten minutes drive from here softening him up for me to question him. We snatched this guy from the mall this morning where we found him following the ladies. I whacked him with a sock full of change just as he was drawing a 9mm. I figure he was gonna hit the ladies. The guy wasn't a stranger Grant. His name is Julio Ramirez and he's no stranger to Hemi. Also it's not the first time we've crossed paths with this piece of shit. He was picked up along with two of his friends a couple of days after I arrived here in Richmond by the local S.W.A.T. team while they waited for me in a car outside Stevie's office. Then he featured in a few of the pictures on the discs you gave us… thanks for those by the way. And here's another little coincidence. In the pics he was in, he was very chummy with the late, unlamented Mr. Simmons. Now Grant, I don't like coincidences, especially when they involve your employers." I finally ran out of steam. Grant looked shocked then contemplative.

"Okay let's go and talk to Julio." With that he got up and walked over to Angela and spoke quietly to her then he walked to his car and came back with a small canvas bag. I quickly let Stevie know what I was up to and asked Brian and Sam if they would stay with the ladies. Call it paranoia but I didn't want to leave them unprotected. Brian and Sam assured me that they could take care of getting the gym gear set up. A couple of minutes later we were driving out the gate in the Tahoe.

"I know Julio Ramirez Craig. He did some work for us in Colombia and also in Panama. He's a wet work specialist but we ditched him a year or so back. His methods were a little on the nasty side shall we say. He took just a little too much delight in his work. Also he became too much of a loose cannon. We lost control of him and when he started taking out additional targets we totally cut our ties with him."

"What do you mean 'additional targets'?"

"If we order a hit, it has to be for a very good reason. Contrary to what you might read in the popular press or watch on TV and the movies, the CIA isn't in the wholesale killing business. If we determine a target needs to be dealt with, we prefer that it's done in the least conspicuous way possible. We also like the hit to be limited to the target if possible. Ramirez started off like this but soon graduated to bloodbaths often involving family members and members of the general populace. Not good… so we cut all contact with him. Basically he's a psychopath for hire Craig. And now that you've got him… you're gonna have to figure out what you're gonna do with him. Have you thought about that? You're not a killer man. Not in cold blood anyway."

"Yeah you're right. At the moment all I'm interested in is what he knows about our current problem. I need to know who is after us, why, and where I can find them. After that I'll figure out what to do with Ramirez. But from what you're saying if I put him down I'd be doing a public service." I thought for a moment then asked, "If you guys have cut all ties with Ramirez, then why is he carrying a CIA keycard? And what's in the bag?" He gave me a shocked theatrical double take at my question. If the situation was a little different it would have been comical.

"He had a key card? Jesus Christ. But what makes you think it was a CIA card?" I noticed he didn't answer the question about the bag.

"Key cards usually have a company logo on them. Besides I saw identical cards yesterday at the Puzzle Palace. And like I said… I don't like coincidences. Now what's in the bag Grant?" Suddenly I didn't feel as trusting as I had a little while ago.

Grant sighed and looked down at the bag at his feet.

"I've got a few things in there that might come in useful when we chat to Ramirez. Craig I'll be up front with you but if any of what we are going to discuss gets back to Carmichael my career is history. Pull over." I did as he asked and turned off the engine and turned to face him. We were parked only a hundred or so yards from where Ramirez and Hemi were.

"Craig I don't like what is happening here but I swear it's not what I wanted. How much you trust me is totally up to you and after we have this discussion I won't be surprised if you boot me out on the road right here." He stopped here and looked at me, finding my face an unreadable mask. I motioned for him to continue. "I was the one who installed the bugs in your house. When your file was flagged and alerts were activated after that shit with the car load of hitters, the CIA became very interested in what was happening here in Richmond. You assumed that it was an attempted hit by Pablo Montoya. Well I can tell you right now that Montoya has nothing to do with whatever is happening here. He's dead Craig. He was taken out three days before you left Colombia. It was a hit by a rival Cartel member. No Montoya… no contract."

"So why didn't Simmons tell me that when he came to visit? And why the fuck didn't Sam or Hemi tell me that?"

"We think that Simmons had his own agenda. He wasn't even supposed to contact you but he did anyway. Carmichael was left to clean up the mess he'd created but by then it was convenient for him to leave you believing that it was Montoya that was after you. As far as Hemi and Sam go… well they didn't know Craig. The information was well compartmentalized and by that stage their involvement in Colombia was over. They were actually assigned to the Middle East when Simmons picked them to accompany him to see you. My feeling is that he took Sam and Hemi with him to serve as a shock tactic to keep you off balance… and it worked buddy. After Simmons was whacked it was vital that we knew more so we assigned Hemi and Sam to you on a permanent basis." As I started to bristle he hurriedly continued.

"No they haven't been reporting back to us. They were assigned solely as a bodyguarding unit as were the guys in the cars that have been watching you. You have a couple of very loyal friends there Craig. Either one of them would take a bullet for you or, for that matter, for Stevie. On that you can trust me."

"Does that mean that I shouldn't trust you on the rest of it Grant?"

"Craig it doesn't matter what I say; you're gonna make up your own mind anyway. So… what's in the bag? I have a little kit containing a few items that might assist us in questioning Ramirez. Sodium pentothal, scopolamine and a few other bits and pieces."

"So do you often travel with a handy little truth serum kit Grant?" I had an inkling of where this was going. Grant looked very embarrassed.

"No matter where Hemi and Sam's loyalties lie they are still CIA operatives Craig. If I felt that you had more information than what you were sharing with us I was to get their help to subdue you and then I was to interrogate you under chemical influence. Whether or not they would have helped is another story entirely. I won't apologize. It's my job, and while I don't agree with everything we do at CIA, I do believe that we have the best interests of this country at heart. I believe that what we do is generally for the greater good. I know that sounds like self serving bullshit but I believe it." He stopped and pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and offered me one. After lighting our smokes he continued.

"I wouldn't have been happy interrogating you but I would have done it Craig and for that I apologize. Now you have two choices. You can kick me out here and carry on to where you've got Ramirez stashed on your own. My involvement with this situation will be over and that will be the last you see of me. Or you can take advantage of an experienced interrogator and we can get the answers you need out of Ramirez. I won't bullshit you Craig; anything we get from him will be the basis of a report I will make to Langley. Your decision man."

We sat and smoked in silence for a while as I digested the information he had fed me. The decision was easy really.

"Let's go. Don't make me regret this decision Grant. I don't fully trust you but I'm willing to see where this partnership will take us." I started the engine and moments later we pulled up outside the house. A quick call on the cell phone let Hemi know that we were here so that he wouldn't be surprised when we walked in… the last thing I needed was to be shot by my friend. He sounded happy, but not surprised to hear that Grant was here with me. As we descended the stairs to the basement we could hear Hemi's voice in a low soothing monologue.

"Craig's here man. He's not going to be as nice to you as I've been. Don't you think it would be a good idea if you told us what we need to know?" The only sign of anything untoward occurring in the basement, aside from Ramirez tied to the chair, was the large smear of blood still issuing from his nose. Still he did look like he'd been through the wringer. He was soaked in sweat and very pale. His head hung down on his chest and he was panting as if he had just run a marathon. Hemi was an artist when it came to pressure points.

"Hello Julio. I brought a friend along to say hi to you." I walked over and grabbing his jaw I raised his head so I could look into his eyes. He glared back at me defiantly. I could see that there was still a lot of work for us to do before we had what we needed. I gave him my best wolfish smile and walked back over to where Hemi and Grant were shaking hands and exchanging greetings. Quickly Hemi brought us up to date on what he had learned so far which was, in essence, nothing. He was happy to see Grant and his bag of chemical goodies. Mr. Ramirez, on the other hand, was not.

As Grant started walking toward him I noticed Ramirez start to shake and he went another shade whiter under his Latin tan. "Now Julio have you been upsetting these nice people? You know you haven't got many friends left in this country yet you still insist on pissing people off. And to try to whack Craig's girlfriend? Well I thought you had a few screws loose but you've just confirmed it. Now up until now you've been dealing with Hemi, who is quite good at what he does but not nearly as good as me. You know that I'm going to get what I want because you've seen me work. Now the best way for you to approach this is by taking the painless route. That involves you opening your mouth now and telling us whatever you know about this little problem of Craig's. Or you could take the other route which involves me causing you an incredible amount of pain then finishing off with a mixture of scopolamine and sodium pentothal which is guaranteed to get the desired result anyway. So what's it gonna be Julio?" I watched as his Latin pride kicked in and he straightened in the chair, his eyes flashing a scared sort of defiance our way while studiously ignoring the advancing figure of Grant. Yup we were gonna have to work for our info.

Grant placed his bag on the floor and being careful to stay out of the reach of Ramirez's feet but within his view, he started to unpack it. First came a small towel which he laid out carefully on the floor. Then a small leather zip pouch which he opened and made a great show of laying on the towel. It contained hypodermics and disposable needles along with vials of a colorless liquid and a bottle of yellow crystals. As he unpacked he talked to Ramirez. "You know what this is don't you Julio? The vials contain scopolamine. That is the first ingredient of any good truth serum. What it does is give you a narcotic high which removes all your control. It removes your ability to lie to us, but however it doesn't fully remove your inhibitions. That is what the yellow crystals are for. They are sodium pentothal. I carry them in crystal form because when they are dissolved in water they have a very short shelf life so it's best to mix it as you need it. They dissolve easily but I have to be really careful to make sure I mix it in the right proportions. Actually the trouble with mixing these two ingredients in one dosage is that sometimes you end up frying your subject's brain. In other words there is a chance you'll come out of this with the IQ of a zucchini. Actually in your case it might improve your personality but we'll see what happens shall we?"

All of this was delivered in a very calm, matter of fact voice which I think was more unsettling to Julio than the words themselves. I know they would have been if I had been tied to that chair. Ramirez started to fidget as Grant finished unpacking by pulling a small bottle of water out of the bag along with a graduated beaker for mixing the drug. I knew then that it wouldn't be long before we had some answers. I had underestimated Grant's effect on his subject.

Grant kept up his calm patter as he went about readying his equipment. We all watched as he filled a syringe with scopolamine and carefully set it aside, then measured out a small amount of water to which he added the sodium pentothal crystals. The crystals dissolved quickly and easily as promised and Grant quickly filled a second hypodermic with the pale yellow liquid.

"One of the biggest risks is making a mistake in filling the syringes Julio. You see I'm going to be injecting this stuff directly into your vein. Now if I've fucked up filling these syringes and accidentally inject a bubble of air into you, you'll die from what is known as an air embolism. I'm told it's a pretty painful way to die. But then you know all about painful death don't you Julio?" Grant stood holding a hermetically sealed package and a roll of white medical tape and moved around behind the bound Ramirez. "Now what I'm going to do is insert this canulla into one of these handy veins. That'll make it easier for me to fill you up with these wonderful pharmaceuticals without having to hunt for a vein every time you need a top up. It's basically a needle with a tube and port attached. All I need to do is inject the dose into the port and it'll flow directly into your bloodstream… air bubbles and all." At this Ramirez started to struggle, bucking and writhing against his bonds. The look of terror on his face was priceless. I briefly wondered what it felt like for him to have the tables turned before Hemi and I moved over to help hold him down. Grant carried on with his calm monologue.

"Now Julio… if you struggle this is gonna hurt a lot more than it has to. I mean one way or another I'm gonna get this needle in your arm so my advice would be to relax and accept the inevitable." Hemi and I walked over to hold Ramirez while Grant got the canulla in. Obviously he'd had a bit of practice as it only took seconds before the canulla was seated safely in one of Julio's veins and taped securely. By this time Ramirez was hyperventilating and sweating profusely. The man was terrified.

"Now Julio, this is your final chance to cooperate. I'm going to inject you with this little chemical cocktail anyway, just to make sure that the answers you give us are truthful, but if you decide to cooperate what I can guarantee is that I'll be damned careful not to mix the drug with too many air bubbles. So what do you say?"

"Go fuck yourself Leonard!" I took that to mean he wouldn't be cooperating. So did Grant.

"Okay Julio. Here we go." Picking up both filled syringes he moved behind Ramirez and bent to insert the needle into the canulla port. Ramirez went ballistic. He began throwing himself around in his chair, jerking and bucking to try to prevent Grant from dosing him. Grant stepped back around into Ramirez's field of vision. "You gonna cooperate?"

There was a long silence as Grant stood there with the two hypodermics in his hand. Ramirez didn't take his eyes off them.

"Okay… ask your questions. Just don't stick that stuff in me." Grant looked at me as if for confirmation that we could continue without the drugs. I nodded.

"Julio if you give us any reason to believe that anything you say isn't on the up and up, I'm gonna pump you full of this stuff. You understand me?" Julio nodded furiously obviously relieved that he wasn't going to be dosed.

There is a lot to a good interrogation technique. Drugs, pain, sleep deprivation and fear can all play a part, but the most important tool that a good interrogator can have is the ability to correctly read body language. It doesn't matter how good an interrogator is, if he can't read body language everything his subject comes up with is going to be suspect. A man in pain is going to tell you anything you want to hear just to stop the hurting, and even under chemical control a person can still lie or provide conflicting or confusing answers. I was average to middling at reading body language but I was assuming that Grant was an expert at it. I grabbed a crate and dragged it over in front of Julio to sit on while I asked the questions.

"Craig's gonna ask the questions Julio, and I'm gonna watch you. If I get even the vaguest hint that you're feeding us bullshit I'll zap you with the cocktail after I let Hemi play with your pressure points for a while. You understand hombre?" Ramirez gave a surly yet resigned nod in the affirmative. I wasted no time in getting started.

"What Grant hasn't told you Julio is that if I think you're fucking me around, I'm going to go with the easy solution. I'm gonna blow your fucking brains out… after I've put you through more pain than you can handle. Understand that you'll be no loss to me so I won't hesitate. Now… who was your target today in the parking garage?"

He glared nervously at me for a while before answering. "Your ladies. Both of them."

"Was that all you were supposed to do? Shoot the ladies?"

"No. If you were there I was to kill you. The ladies wouldn't have mattered then. I would have let them go." The calm way in which he delivered his statements had me boiling, but I couldn't afford to let him see this. I struggled to keep my emotions masked as I continued the questioning.

"Who wants me dead and why?" Surprisingly this brought a twisted grin to Ramirez's face.

"Are you sure you want to know Miller? Are you sure you want to open the can of worms that this will entail?"

"Who wants me dead?"

"Simmons… Christopher Simmons." He could have said Stevie and I would have been less surprised. I sat there like a stunned mullet for a few minutes, my mouth open and the shock clearly showing on my face, before I reacted.

"Bullshit! Simmons is dead! I saw his body myself! Who the fuck is trying to kill me?" My voice had risen to a dull roar.

"It's true Miller. Simmons wants you dead."

"So you're fulfilling a contract put out by a guy who is now dead? How do you expect to collect your pay off?"

"Miller you're assuming that Simmons is dead based on your seeing a charred body for a few moments. I assure you Miller, he is alive and well and more than able to pay me my fee. I spoke to him this morning over coffee. He didn't look dead to me." Now Ramirez was having fun; he was relishing the shock on my face. "Tell me Miller… who made the formal ID of the body? What did the Medical Examiner use? Fingerprints? Unlikely… 'Simmons' was pretty well charred. Dental records? The gunshot to the head sort of messed those up didn't it. That leaves DNA and medical records as a scientific means of identification, and where do you think the Medical Examiner would have got those from? The victim's employer would have been his first port of call wouldn't it? The CIA would have been approached for Simmons's medical records which would have contained a DNA profile because of the fact that Simmons was a field agent. With his security clearance how easy would it have been to switch profiles with another person? One who looked a little like himself and was built along similar lines?" Ramirez was actually making sense. Unfortunately he was right; it did open up a whole new box of worms. I needed to get out of that room… to process the information bomb that had just landed on me… but first I needed to find out where Simmons was, why it was so important that he get rid of me and when it was going to happen. Actually there were a dozen questions I needed to ask.

kiwiwolf
kiwiwolf
179 Followers