“Where is your New Orleans police escort?”
“We didn’t have one.”
“If you had extradition papers, you had to have a police escort.”
“We don’t have extradition papers.”
“No extradition papers? Then would you mind telling me how in the hell you planned to get this man out of the state?”
“We don’t need extradition papers; we are bail bondsmen,” John said. He started to reach into his inside jacket pocket.
“Slowly,” the police captain warned.
Moving slowly, John pulled out an envelope, then held it up. “Here is our license, and a letter, signed by a Texas judge, authorizing us to take Mehmet Ibrahim back to Texas.”
“You’re in Louisiana,” the police captain said. “You need a Louisiana judge.”
John shook his head. “No, we don’t. There is a reciprocal agreement. Louisiana recognizes the rights of Texas bail bondsmen to return bond jumpers, just as Texas affords that same right to Louisiana bondsmen.”
The EMTs picked up Bob and carried him back to the ambulance.
“I’d like to go with my friend,” John said, pointing toward Bob.
“You’re not going anywhere until we get this all cleared up,” the captain replied.
“It is all cleared up,” John said. “You’ve got my license, my letter of authorization—oh, and you’ll also find a weapons permit in there—as well as my story of what happened. And as I said, any eyewitness here will back up my story.”
“Cap’n, you know who this is?” one of the other policeman called from the car. “This here is Lucien Beajeaux. Remember him? He used to be on the force.”
“Yes, of course I remember him,” the police captain said. He looked at John. “Did you shoot him?”
“No, he was on our side,” John said.
The ambulance pulled away, its warning signal making a honking sound.
“I’m going to take you down to the station,” the police captain said. “If everything checks out, I’ll let you go.”
“All right,” John said.
“Cuff him,” the captain said to one of his officers.
Sighing, John put his hands behind his back as the officer applied the handcuffs.
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