Page 40 of Cash

He handed Baker the computer. “Take a look. He’s gone a little overboard with camera placement, but I’d expect nothing less from a drug dealer. They’re always paranoid.”

Baker looked at the sketch and then at Tito. “What are the half-moon shapes?”

“Motion activated lights.”

After a lengthy study, Baker handed the laptop to Tito. “Bottom line? Can we get in there?”

“I can get video samples from each camera, then loop them into the system remotely. It’ll be a pain in the ass, but it’s possible, yes.”

“What’s our biggest risk?” Baker asked.

“Two things. One, that he comes home when we’re in there,” Tito said.

“What’s the second thing?” Baker asked.

“That he tries to pan the cameras while they system is in an altered state. If he does, it won’t work, and he might get worried. There will be video images, but they’ll be fixed video. If he tried to pan the cameras, he’ll realize it.”

“This is one of those systems that you can control from your cell phone?” I asked.

Tito nodded. “Correct.”

“And he can move the cameras back and forth and shit from his phone?”

“He won’t be able to on that night, no.”

I chuckled. “Fuckers like him sit in the bar and just stare at their phones, wondering if someone’s coming to steal their stash. You know he’ll figure it out sooner or later.”

Tito offered a half-assed shrug. “There’s only one way to manipulate a system like that, and it isn’t easy. If we want to get in, our only option is to send him a false video signal.”

“What else do we know about him?” Baker asked. “Anything noteworthy?”

Tito traced his finger over the screen, flipped through some pages, and then stopped on a screen that was covered in typed notes.

“He lives on Encino Verde Place. It’s a remote area in the city built into the side of a mountain. His home is a ten thousand square foot mansion. His net worth is unknown. He has a car collection that’d put Jay Leno’s to shame. The vehicles are registered in his name, so, he’s either bold, pretentious, or a little of both. I’m guessing value of his cars is north of thirty million. County appraisal has his home valued at five point two million. If it was in Malibu, it’d be a hundred million. I haven’t got to his claimed income yet, but I will. Not sure it’s necessary, though.”

Baker shook his head. “We don’t need it. If he’s got thirty million in cars, he’s got something in that house of value.”

“Agreed,” Tito said. “Showing up in court in a two-and-a-half-million-dollar car tells me all I need to know about how he flaunts his wealth.”

“We’ll need to find out what his schedule is like, and when he might be out of town next. Any bright ideas?” Baker asked.

Tito always had bright ideas, but he never volunteered them. He was the type of person that had to be asked to take every step along the way. He did nothing – and offered nothing – without being asked.

“I could tap into his system fairly easily and listen to his conversations,” Tito said. “Depending on what he says and when he says it, it might take a while to learn anything. I suspect sooner or later, he’ll say something.”

“Let’s do that,” Baker said.

I tossed my remaining yogurt shake into Baker’s trash can. “Little fucker should have done that before he came in here. He always does that: comes in here armed with half the information we need to make a move on someone. Then, you’ve got to ask him for more. He knows what we want, and he knows what’s needed to do a job.” I looked at Tito. “Stop being a lazy little prick.”

He set his laptop on the floor at the side of his chair. When he looked up, his eyes were thin, and he wore a stern look. “Fuck you, Cash.”

“Fuck you, Tito. You like getting your ego stroked.”

He extended his arm and raised his middle finger. “I don’t have an ego,” he said dryly.

“You’re going to have a broken finger if you don’t put that thing up,” I seethed.

“Alright, you two,” Baker said. “Enough. I don’t need to be mopping blood off this floor. Give it a rest.”