“Great,” Stone said. “If the police aren’t on to you, then I think you can pull off this deal. Where are we going in this helicopter?”
“You’ll see,” Ippolito said, but his words were drowned out by the helicopter’s rotors as they started to spin.
62
In the garage, Rick Grant and Dino listened to their radio as the elevator doors opened and closed, as people got on and off. Then they heard Stone say, “I’m here.”
“Jesus,” Dino said, “that’s some wire. I want some of those for my people.”
“Shhh,” Rick said. “He’s in the reception room.”
They could hear Stone begin to announce himself to the receptionist, then stop. They heard the receptionist tell Sturmack to go into Ippolito’s office, then heard Stone speak again to the receptionist. There were some soft footsteps, then nothing but low-level static.
“They found the wire,” Dino said, opening the car door. “Let’s go.”
“No, wait. Nobody has searched him; we’d have heard that. He’s just in a place that’s blocking the transmission. Wait and listen.”
They began to hear snatches of words, nothing intelligible, just a word or two at a time.
“At least he’s got them talking,” Rick said. “We’ve still got the tape to fall back on.”
They continued to listen to the static, with an occasional word coming through. “Maybe the problem is between us and the van,” Rick said. “Let’s get out there.” He got out of the car and started out of the garage, with Dino right behind him.
Rick crossed the street, walked around the van, and rapped sharply on its sliding door. The door opened a crack. “It’s Grant and Bacchetti,” Rick said. “Let us in.”
The door slid back, Rick and Dino crowded in and the door closed behind them.
“Are you getting anything from Barrington?” Rick asked.
“No, just a word now and then. Something’s screwing up the transmission.”
“I don’t like this,” Dino said. “I think we ought to go in.”
“Not yet,” Rick replied. “At least we know they’re talking. If we hear anything that sounds like trouble, I’ll give the word, but not until then.”
The static continued for a couple of more minutes, then suddenly stopped.
“I can hear them now,” the radio operator said.
“Turn that thing up,” Rick commanded.
They could hear footsteps on a hard floor, then the sound of people climbing steps, then Stone’s voice, loud and clear. “Have the police ever gotten wind of what you’re up to?”
Rick grabbed his handheld radio. “This is Grant,” he said, “it’s a go! Everybody move!”
Dino grabbed his arm. “Wait, listen.”
Stone’s voice came again. “Where are we going in this helicopter?” Then the sound of the rotor, spinning faster and faster.
“Oh, shit!” Grant hissed. He threw open the door of the van, stepped out, and looked up. A large black helicopter was rifting off the roof of the Safe Harbor Bank building. He stepped back into the van. “Put me on the command channel,” he ordered the operator. The man turned a knob and nodded.
“This is Lieutenant Richard Grant,” Rick said. “Patch me through to aviation.”
A moment later a woman’s voice came on. “LAPD aviation.”
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“This is Lieutenant Richard Grant. Let me speak to your watch commander now.”