by Don Winslow
“I’ll hold off a little bit,” Duane says.
“To think, ” Dennis says. “Exactly. So while you’re thinking, think about this-”
216
“One, you’re not the only player in the game,” Dennis says. “I’m going to talk to Mr. Hennessy now, and if he rings the bell first
… fuck you. So don’t take too long to think, but do think about
…
“Two-a question, to wit…
“Are the guys you want to be loyal to going to be loyal to you?” Dennis asks. “Or, if and when they do find out you’re looking at thirty to life, are they going to decide it’s not worth the risk and have you clipped anyway? In which case, your loyalty to them is moot. And so I return to my original theme…
“I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”
Dennis 4:16.
217
“I don’t want to go to jail for the rest of my life,” Brian says.
Dennis laughs at him. “Who gives a flying fuck about what you want? This is only about what I want. And you’d better start thinking real hard about what it is that I want. One, two, three, go.”
It’s painful watching Brian try to string his thoughts together to form one line of cause and effect.
Dennis runs out of patience.
“Let me be the local news,” he says, “and tell you what’s happening in your world. You think you don’t want to spend the rest of your life behind bars? Your buddy Crowe really doesn’t. In fact, I just left him because I needed to get a new box of Kleenex, he’s been crying and snuffling and sniffling so much in there. Are you ready for this? He’s trying to give me you for the Munson murders.”
Because, for all his corruption, Dennis is a man of his word.
He promised Ben Leonard that he’d try. And one look at Brian’s eyes, Dennis knows it’s true. He and Crowe killed the Munson kid and the girl.
“What?!” Brian yelps.
“Yup,” Dennis pushes. “He says you pulled the trigger. He’s got the needle pointed right at your fucking arm.”
“No way. He-”
Brian stops short.
“We know it was one of you,” Dennis says. “The question is, which?”
Neglecting to mention that it doesn’t fucking matter who actually pulled the trigger. But if Brian doesn’t know that, tough shit. Ignorance has its costs. If you’re going to be a criminal-know the fucking law, asshole.
“I don’t think it was you,” Dennis says. “You don’t strike me as the type who’d kill a girl. You just don’t. I think it was Duane, but he’s in there sobbing that he watched you do it… he has nightmares… ‘Brian just blew her brains out. He was laughing as he did it.’ Juries love that shit, Brian.”
Brian gets this look of feral cunning on his face.
“Wouldn’t I be guilty anyway, though?” he asks. “Even if I was just there? Which I wasn’t, but if I was?”
Goddamn it, Dennis thinks. If there’s anything he hates it’s a half-intelligent skell with a little information. Law amp; Order has totally fucked up the interview room.
“True,” Dennis says. “But there are distinctions in terms of sentencing. One of you gets life, the other gets the cocktail. Which you’re not going to think is a big distinction until they strap you down, and then you’re going to think it is, because Duane will still be eating meals and taking shits and jerking off, and you… well, they say it’s painless, but they say a lot of things, don’t they?”
Brian toughens up. “I don’t know anything about those killings.”
“That’s too bad,” Dennis says, “because now you can’t give me what I want.”
He starts out the door, then stops and turns.
“If you haven’t already figured this out,” Dennis says, “Duane and the boys can’t risk keeping you around.”
“You’re saying they’re going to kill me?”
“No, they’re going to give you a pony,” Dennis says. “What the fuck you think they’re gonna do?”
Dipshit.
218
Lado has kept one of them alive.
To watch the dissection of his friends and learn.
The man is naked and chained to a wall, and now Lado takes the point of the bloody knife and presses it into the man’s stomach, just enough to draw blood.
“Tell me now,” Lado says.
“Anything,” the man sobs.
“Which guero?”
“What?”
Lado presses the knife a little harder. “Which American agreed to the assassination of Filipo Sanchez?”
The man gives it up.
Raised in the slums of Tijuana, Lado found many of his childhood meals in the garbage dumps that rose in his barrio like Mayan temples. When his father had work, it was as a carnicero, a butcher, and when the family got meat, it was usually a cabra, a goat.
So he knows the sound of a goat when you slash its belly, and that’s what the man sounds like as Lado lifts the knife through his guts.
219
INT. HOLDING CELL — NIGHT
CROWE sits at the table as DENNIS comes in.
DUANE
I want a lawyer.
DENNIS
Bad call, but yours to make.
DUANE
Right.
DENNIS
I know who you’re going to call-I think I have him on speed dial-but before you do, you need to know that evidence isn’t going to disappear, the chain of custody isn’t going to get fucked up. Maybe this guy can get ten years chopped off, but so what?
DUANE
I want a lawyer.
DENNIS
Then let’s get you a phone, loser.
220
“What did you give them?” Chad Meldrun asks, sitting across the table.
“Nothing,” Crowe says.
“Don’t jerk me,” Chad says. “I need to know.”
Yeah-Duane knows who needs to know.
It’s been the deal forever. You get busted with serious weight, you’re allowed to play certain cards-you can give up locations of stashes, safe houses. You just tell the lawyer, who tells the boys so they can move the stuff.
What you can’t use to trade your way out are people. You do that, it’s a problem.
“I gave them shit,” Duane says.
“Go ahead and give them something,” Chad says.
Duane shakes his head. “They don’t want it. They just want the guys.”
“And you didn’t do that.”
“How many times you need to hear it?”
“Okay, we’re good,” Chad says.
“No, you’re good,” Duane says. “I’m fucked. This was a setup. The fucking fed is in bed with Leonard. Leonard set us up.”
“If you knew that, why did you do the deal?”
“I fucked up,” Duane says. “I thought he was, you know, cowed. And thirty-five cents on the dollar… shit.”
“Okay, okay,” Chad says. “What about Hennessy? Will he hold up?”
Duane shrugs.
“We have another lawyer coming for him,” Chad says. “He’ll get Hennessy out on bail.”
“Fuck him,” Crowe says. “Get me the fuck out of here.”
“I’m going to do my best, cowboy.”
“I’m not a cowboy,” Duane says irritably. “You see boots and a dumbass hat?”
Cowboy…
Fuck.
221
“Your Honor, given the potential severity of the likely sentence,” Assistant DA Kelsey Ryan says, “the defendant is most definitely a flight risk. We ask that bail not be set.”
The DA is a looker.
Pretty, blonde, blue-eyed.
And a killer.
Verrrry ambitious.
Dennis would like some of that.
Chad Meldrun stands up.
Very interesting that Chad showed up, Dennis thinks. Either Duane’s bosses are backing him up big-time, or they want him out of lo
ckup where they can kill him.
“Your Honor,” Chad says, smiling like he’s about to say that night tends to be darker than day, “Mr. Crowe has no prior drug arrests, never mind convictions, he has ties to the community, and he owns a business. You and I both know that this case doesn’t even belong in federal court-this is the government throwing its weight around-and, in fact, I’m preparing a motion to have the case removed to the jurisdiction of the State of California, where it belongs. As we both know, that motion has an excellent chance of success. I’m going to request that you do grant bail, and set it at a reasonable amount, so that my client can continue to make a living and also fully participate in his own defense.”
“And he’s going to do that from where, Costa Rica?” Ryan snaps.
“That will be enough of that,” Judge Giannini says.
“He’s a flight risk, Your Honor,” Ryan repeats. “And may I remind the court that these charges include possession of a firearm while in the commission of a drug felony. Mr. Crowe is a danger to the public.”
“The gun was not in Mr. Crowe’s possession,” Chad argues. “It was found in the vicinity of Mr. Crowe’s vehicle.”
“And had Mr. Hennessy’s fingerprints on it.”
“Mr. Hennessy is not Mr. Crowe,” Meldrun says.
Ryan says, “May I also remind the court-”
“The court does not have Alzheimer’s,” Giannini snaps.
She’s in a pissy mood, Dennis thinks.
Good.
Ryan keeps pressing. “This is not only a marijuana charge. Heroin-a Schedule Two narcotic-is involved, and in the vicinity of a school.”
“At one in the morning,” Chad says, throwing his arms in the air. “No jury is going to believe that Mr. Crowe was attempting to sell to schoolchildren.”
“The law does not specify intent,” Ryan answers. “Proximity is sufficient.”
Chad turns and looks directly at Dennis. “We have seen these shenanigans from Agent Cain before. This is an old dog doing old tricks. It’s an outrageous abuse of authority.”
Dennis smiles at him.
“Your Honor,” Ryan says, “Agent Cain is not on trial here.”
“He should be,” Chad snaps. “This whole case is a setup from jump street, Your Honor, and I will argue entrapment. The government has used a so-far-unidentified CI to lure an otherwise innocent-”
“We’ll produce the witness at trial,” Ryan says.
Giannini says, “Let’s get back to the point here. I tend to agree that the weapons allegation will probably not survive judicial scrutiny as to Mr. Crowe. I also tend to agree that while the severity of possible penalties is an inducement toward flight, Mr. Crowe’s standing in the community and the fact that he owns a business are mitigating factors. Therefore I’m inclined to grant bail. Would the government like to suggest a figure, Ms. Ryan?”
“Ten million dollars.”
“Look at my face,” Giannini says. “Do I look like I’m in the mood for jokes, Ms. Ryan?”
“May I suggest OR?” Chad asks.
“Same answer, Chad, but nice try,” Giannini says. “I’m certainly not inclined to release Mr. Crowe on his own recognizance, but I do see a need for a serious deterrent toward flight. You want to come down on your bid, Ms. Ryan?”
“One million.”
“Bail is set at five hundred thousand dollars,” Giannini says, “with Mr. Crowe’s residence and business as security. Can you post the ten percent today, Mr. Crowe?”
“He can, Your Honor,” Chad says.
I’ll bet he can, Dennis thinks.
The boys want him out, no question.
Question is
Who are the boys?
222
“You cut them loose?” Ben asks.
They’re sitting in Dennis’s car in the parking lot of Albertsons in Laguna.
“We can’t hold them on the murder,” Dennis explains. “Unless one flips on the other, we have nothing.”
“I’ll go in,” Ben says. “If that’s the problem, I’ll-”
“It won’t do any good,” Dennis says. “You can’t put them on the scene, and they have alibis.”
“If I go in and swear out a complaint against Crowe for extortion-”
“The most you have on him is making a threat,” Dennis answers. “You can’t even tie him to the beating Boland gave you, never mind the murders.”
“So now what?”
“Run.”
“What?”
“Run, Ben.”
Because these guys are out, and they’re going to kill you.
223
Because, as Chon points out, the justice system is more about the system than the justice.
Maybe Crowe and Hennessy jump bail, maybe they roll the dice with a trial on the drug charges, maybe they take a chance on each other’s holding firm, but the point is They have problems of their own now.
And so do the higher-ups.
Someone paid a lot of money to spring Crowe and Hennessy for fear they might flip in the interview room. But Duane and Brian still have good reason-double-digit prison sentences-to trade up, so the question is “Did they get them out to get them out,” Chon asks Ben, “or to get them out of the way?”
The latter of which leaves two options Crowe and Hennessy jump bail and disappear, or Someone disappears them.
In either case, the plan worked-drop Crowe into the shit and see who throws a line.
But how do we track the line back?
One of Ben and Chon’s favorite movies is All the President’s Men. They can practically quote it. Well, not “practically.” Actually. Driving back from Ben’s meet with Dennis, they go into the routine:
Hunt’s come in from the cold. Supposedly he’s got a lawyer with $25,000 in a brown paper bag.
The prices have gone up, Bob.
Follow the money.
“Follow the lawyer who brought the money,” Ben says. “Somebody sent Chad to bail Crowe out. He’s going to report back to that somebody. And he isn’t going to do it over the phone.”
“Can you do it, bro?” Chon asks. “Follow him without getting seen?”
Without getting killed?
“I think so,” Ben says.
“I’ll take the other line.”
Crowe and Hennessy have to be freaking. They know they’re on thin ice. They’re going to reach out.
And up.
It’s a good situation, Chon thinks. If Crowe and Hennessy had flipped on each other, Ben would have gotten his “justice,” but it would still have left the higher-ups out there, and they would have him killed.
Better this way.
“Ben?”
“Yeah?”
“Keep your head down.”
“You, too.”
“Always.”
Recent evidence to the contrary notwithstanding.
224
Duane Crowe goes home long enough to pack a few things.
Because this could go either way.
He folds his Old Guys Rule shirt into the duffel bag and thinks about the phone conversation that was less than reassuring.
Yeah, we have judges, but this is federal, Duane. That makes it tough. Say you get twelve-you serve twelve. You can do twelve. I’ve done it. You’re still a young man when you get out.
I’m not a young man now, Duane thinks. He grabs a couple of pairs of jeans out of a dresser drawer and throws them in the bag. I have a daughter going to college. I have tuition to pay. I can’t do one year, never mind the cost of the trial, the defense.
And that’s just the drug charge.
The other thing…
… is a problem. If the other guy gets weak in the knees… You fucked up. You know, with the girl. It’s a problem.
Yeah, thanks a fucking heap. Tell me something I don’t know. Just like the Powers That Be, you work your ass off for them, make them money, and then when there’s a “problem” they leave you on an island.
But Duane gets the
message.
The Powers That Be will take a chance on the drug charge, but the homicides?
If I don’t do something about Brian, they’re going to do something about me. They’re going to clean house-Brian, Leonard, me.
If they’re not on their way already.
He puts the revolver in his pocket and heads out.
225
Ben sits in his car and calls Chad Meldrun.
The bored, too-cool-for-school receptionist puts him on hold. Comes back on a few seconds later and says, “Chad said to say he can’t represent you anymore.”
“Did he say why not?”
“Conflicted.”
“You or him?”
She hangs up.
But Ben knows what he wanted to know-Chad is in the office.
Which works out, because Ben is in the parking structure.
All the President’s Men.
226
O is conflicted as to what to wear.
She walks into her closet, surveys the hangers full of clothes, and tries to decide how to go, sartorially speaking.
I mean, what does the style-conscious South Orange County Princess wear to meet her father for the first time?
Dress it up, or caj it down?
Go older, or younger?
She thinks about a polka-dot dress and pigtails, but decides it’s waaaay too creepy because maybe Paul Patterson doesn’t have a sense of satire or irony.
She looks at your basic “little black dress”-like, look at what a lovely lady the daughter you threw away turned out to be-but worries about crossing the paper-thin line between sophisticated and sexy.
She thinks about not going at all.
This is a girl who has stood in front of a vending machine-torn between F-3 (Peanut M amp;Ms) and D-7 (Famous Amos chocolate-chip cookies)-for fifteen minutes and then walked away with nothing rather than make a choice.
O knows she doesn’t have that luxury here. She has to wear something, she can’t just go naked as the day she was born, as symbolically appropriate as that might be.
