His words trailed off as he opened the drawer again and pulled out a clipboard with several pink forms on it. He started peeling them back and reading.
“I have a Mr. Childs. Just wanted the camera, nothing else. Paid cash in advance. Nine ninety-five plus California sales tax. Came to—”
“Did he leave a number or address?”
I stopped breathing. We had him. This had to be Gladden. The irony of the name he had given was not lost on me. I felt a chill roll across my back.
“No, no number or address,” Coombs said. “I wrote a note to myself. It says Mr. Wilton Childs will call to check on the equipment’s arrival. I told him to call tomorrow.”
“Then he’ll come pick it up?”
“Yes, if it’s here by then he’ll come pick it up. Like I said, we don’t have an address so we can’t deliver it.”
“Do you remember what he looked like, Mr. Coombs?”
“Looked like? Uh, well, yes I suppose so.”
“Can you describe him?”
“He was a white fellow, I remember that. He. . .”
“Blond hair?”
“Uh, no. It was dark. And he was growing a beard, I remember that.”
“How old?”
“About twenty-five or perhaps thirty.”
That was good enough for Thorson. It was in the ballpark and the rest of the information fit. He pointed at the empty desk.
“Anybody using that desk?”
“Not at the moment. Business is not so good.”
“Then is it all right if we do?”
39
There was a discernible electric buzz in the air as everyone gathered around a table in the conference room with the million-dollar view. After being brought up to speed by a phone call from Thorson, Backus had decided to move his operation command post from the Wilcox Hotel to the FBI offices in Westwood. We gathered on the seventeenth floor of the federal building in a conference room with a panoramic view of the city. I could see Catalina Island floating out in a golden ocean reflecting the spectacular burnt-orange-and-red start of another sunset.
It was four-thirty Pacific time and the meeting had been scheduled late to give Rachel as much time as possible to obtain and execute a search warrant for records of Gladden’s bank account in Jacksonville.
In the conference room, Backus was joined by Thorson, Carter, Thompson, six agents I hadn’t been introduced to but who I assumed were locals, and me. Quantico and all the field offices involved in the investigation were also on the conference line. And even these unseen people seemed excited. Brass Doran kept saying over the speaker, “Are we ready to start yet?”
Finally, Backus, sitting at the center of the table, closest to the speakerphone, called everyone to order. Behind him, on an easel, was a crude top-view diagram of the Data Imaging Answers store and the block of Pico Boulevard where it was located.
“Okay, people, things are happening,” he said. “This is what we worked for. So let’s talk about it and then let’s do it and let’s do it right.”
He stood up. Maybe the moment was getting to him as well.
“We have a priority one lead we’re working and we want to hear from Rachel and Brass. First, though, I’m going to have Gordon give the rundown on what we’ve got set up for tomorrow.”
As Thorson told the captive audience about our day’s work and discoveries, my mind wandered. I thought of Rachel somewhere in Jacksonville, twenty-five hundred miles from her investigation and listening to a man she didn’t like and probably even despised talk about the major break he had made. I wanted to talk to her and try in some way to console her, but not with twenty-five people listening. I wanted to ask Backus where she was so I could call afterward but knew I couldn’t do that, either. Then I remembered the pager. I would do that later.
“We are shifting our critical incident team off Thomas,” Thorson said. “The LAPD surveillance team is doubling up and will stay with Thomas. We are redirecting our people to be used in a twofold plan to facilitate the arrest of this offender. First off, we now have caller ID on the phones at Data Imaging. We will have a mobile receiver and LED read-out to monitor incoming calls on both lines and the field office is providing all available hands for response teams. We’re going to trace this subject’s call when he checks in to see if his product is in and try to hold him at the phone until our people can get there. If they do, standard felony arrest procedures will follow. Any questions so far?”
“Air support?” an agent asked.
“We’re working on it. I’m told we can count on one bird but we are going for two. All right then, step two is if we are unable to effect capture of the subject through caller ID. At Digital Imaging Answers—let’s call it DIA for short—I’ll be inside with Coombs, the owner. If we get the call from this guy, he will be told that the camera he ordered is ready for pickup. We’ll try to press for a pickup time but not too hard, just keeping it natural.
“If the subject slips through the first net, the plan is to set up on him once he comes to the store. The store’s been wired—sound and video. If he comes in, I’ll just give him his camera and send him on his way, another satisfied customer. The felony arrest will take place at the time Don Sample, he’s our critical team leader, thinks is appropriate and gives the word. Obviously, that will be the first controlled setting our man takes us to. We hope that will be his car. But you all know the procedures for other contingencies. Questions?”
“Why not prone his ass right there in the store?”
“We feel we need Coombs to be there so as not to spook the subject. He bought the camera from Coombs, Coombs should be there. I don’t want to try to take this guy down that close to a civilian. Also, it’s a small store and we may be pressing it having even one agent in there. You put more in and it’s going to look suspicious to this guy. So why don’t we just give him the camera and take him down out there on the street, where we can control things a little better?”
With Thorson, Backus and Sample handing off to each other, they outlined the plan in more detail. Coombs would be in the store with Thorson to handle the daily business and real customers throughout the day. But when the outside surveillance teams reported the approach of any customer even remotely matching Gladden’s description, Thorson would remain up front to handle the transaction while Coombs excused himself, retreated to a small rear storage room and locked himself in. Another agent, posing as a customer, would enter through the front door as backup after Gladden entered. The interior of the store would be monitored by a video setup. The exterior would be monitored by roving and stationary agents ready to deal with all contingencies once Gladden was identified. Additionally, a female agent in a Los Angeles parking enforcement uniform and car would continuously patrol the block where DIA was located.
“I don’t think I need to remind everybody just how dangerous this individual is,” Backus said when the briefing was done. “Everybody pack some extra common sense tomorrow. Watch out for yourself and your partner. Questions?”
I waited a beat to see if there were any questions from agents. When there weren’t, I spoke up.
“What if the digiShot doesn’t come in tomorrow like Mr. Coombs said it was supposed to?”