Farrel patted her shoulder. "They will. . . . Whoever ordered the hits made a tactical error, thinking that killing Paul and the others would slow us down. The deputy is sending in one hundred agents to help us renew the investigation. We'll get them."
Eli handed Ashley a Kleenex. "Try and sleep now, pard.
I'll be right here."
Farrel touched Eli's arm and whispered, "You've got statements to make and--"
Eli cut him off by lifting his hand. "I'm staying with my partner, sir. I'll make the statements and talk to the shrink right here. I've already surrendered my weapon to Agent Giles and given him a brief statement of the events as I saw them."
Farrel's eyes narrowed slightly. "Don't interrupt me, Tanner. I was going to say get some rest is all. You don't need to see a shrink--you did a good job out there today. I'll talk to the hospital staff and have them bring a cot or something so you can get some rest. See you later."
Farrel looked once again at Ashley, then walked out the door.
Ashley squeezed Eli's hand. "You should have told me you got some of them."
"I knew you'd just get upset with me. Ya told me to take it easy, remember?"
A tear trickled down her cheek. "You hate hospitals, Tanner; why are you staying with me?"
"I don't have a ride. Our van is still at headquarters, and even if it were here, you know how I hate driving. Hey, get some rest, will ya? You can play twenty questions tomorrow."
"Tanner . . . thank you for staying."
"Yeah, no sweat. Now get some rack time. I'll be here."
Eli reached up, turned out the light above her bed, and was about to sit down in his chair when a nurse walked in the room. "Agent Tanner?"
"Yes?"
"Agent Tanner, Miss Stacy Starr is in the second-floor waiting room and she asked if you would please come down and speak to her a moment. I believe she wants to thank you for saving her life."
Eli sat down and shook his head. "Please tell Miss Starr I'm not available."
The nurse stepped closer. "Agent Tanner, she was treated for a dislocated elbow. . . . She says it's really important that she see you."
Eli shifted his eyes to the woman. "And this is important to me, ma'am."
Seeing his expression, the nurse left in silence.
"Is that Stacy Starr of Channel 2, Tanner?" Ashley asked with her eye closed.
"Yeah. She was out front when the shooting started."
"Do you know her?"
"Kinda, from a long time ago."
"Maybe you should go, then."
"She's media . . . you know what I think about them."
"Yeah, Tanner . . . they're up there with hospitals and driving, right?"
"Yep. Go to sleep, pard."
Eli rested his head on the railing. Closing his eyes, he gathered all the memories of Stacy Starr from the scrapbook in his mind and let them slowly fade away. He knew she was a dream no longer worth keeping. As with so many things that had seemed important to him, it was time to let the past go.
Midnight, Days Inn, Dahlonega, Georgia Lying on the bed watching television, Ted heard a light knock on his door. He got up and walked to the door thinking it was Virgil or Glenn. He opened the door and blinked, not believing who he saw.
Before she could speak, Ted grabbed her arm, pulled her into the room, and closed the door. "Chrisea'mighty, Bonita! What the hell you doin' here?"
Seeming unfazed by his anger, she motioned with a trembling hand toward the television. "You saw it, didn't you?
An . . . an earlier report said several agents were killed.
One of them, they said, was Agent Eddings . . . the one who was working with Wentzel. Carlos did it, didn't he?"
"Yeah, it sure looks like it. Jesus, Bonita, you can't be here; one of my guys is in the next room. How'd you get here?"
"After I saw it on the news, I borrowed Duwane's car and drove up to find you. I've been driving around for an hour trying to find your Lincoln, and saw it out front of the room and--"
"Christ'a'mighty, did you knock on all the motel's doors?"
"No, I saw you through the window."
Ted hurried to the window and pulled the curtains closed.
"Dumb, Bonita. This is really dumb. You could blow our operational security by--"
Bonita began crying. "Don't do it, Teddy. It's out of control. Carlos is killing everybody ... you saw what happened, all those poor people. My God, we can't go through with this."
Ted softened his stare, walked over, and put his arm around her shoulders. "Come on, Bo, get hold of yourself.
We can't quit now. The money is your only chance to get out of this alive."
"I can't do it, Teddy. I don't care about the money; I just want it to end."
"You're upset, Bo. Sit down a minute." Ted led her to the bed and sat down beside her. "Take in a deep breath and listen to me. Mendez is goin' to be movin' the money anytime now. Me and my guys are ready . . . we'll get the money. When we do, we'll do just like we planned. I'll call you on your cell phone and tell you where your share is hidden. You borrow Duwane's car again, pick up the cash, and buy yourself a used car from the papers. Return Duwane's car, then take a cab to your car and head for Kansas.
You hear me, Kansas. Go to a town called Hutchinson and call Henry Duggin; he's a friend of mine. He'll hide you out and get you a new ID. I'll call him and set it all up for you.
His name is Henry Duggin. Now you say it."
"Henry Duggin."
"That's right. Once things blow over, then you can get yourself an airline ticket and go anywhere you want. I'm uppin' your share--you'll get a half million, so pick someplace nice."
Bonita looked into his eyes. "Why, Teddy? Why is going after Carlos so important to you?"
"It's personal, Bo."
"He'll kill you. I I. . . I don't want that to happen. Don't do it. Leave with me right now and let's run off together."
"I can't do that, Bo. I got a promise to keep . . . it's a duty."
"A duty? Ted, it's suicide. I told you about the number of guards he has around him when he's on his yacht--there's no way you can get to him."
"I know a way, Bo. I'm a SEAL, remember?"
"I'm never going to see you again, am I?" she asked.
"It wouldn't be smart."
"Teddy, make love to me."
"What?"
"You heard me. I don't want to leave you without you ever holding me. I . . . I care for you. I liked us . . . I liked us being able to talk and watch movies together. No, don't look away from me. Can you look me in the eyes and tell me you don't have feelings for me? Well? Can you?"
"No, Bo, I can't lie to you, but it's not going to happen.
You gotta go right now. Come on, get up."
Bonita allowed him to pull her to her feet. She cupped his chin. "Promise me something, Teddy, then I'll go. Promise me you'll get out of this alive."
"Of course I will. Now come on . . . I'll walk out first and see if anybody is in the lot." He began to open the door when she stepped closer and kissed him. A long moment passed before she stepped back.
"You're no Alec Baldwin, Teddy Faircloud, but you sure have a way about you. I'll never forget us." She forced a smile, turned, opened the door, and walked out into the darkness.
Chapter 10.
7:20 A. M., Tuesday, hospital cafeteria.
Eli sat at a corner table drinking coffee and reading the paper when he heard someone approaching. The SAC, Don Farrel, set his coffee cup on the table and took a seat. "Did you get any sleep last night, Tanner?" he asked.
Eli put his paper down, looking at his disheveled boss.
"Yes, sir, a little, but it looks like you didn't."
Farrel nodded tiredly. "Yeah, it was a long night. I had Tom Bowlan take over for Eddings as the case officer. We went over Paul's organization charts for the task force. . . . I saw where he penciled you in as the liaison with the GBI."
"Yes, sir. I volunteered for the job."
"I understand, sir. I'll make the call," Eli said.
Farrel glanced at the newspaper headlines. "The media don't like being targets, do they?"
"They took a heavy hit, sir. Paper says the Channel 2 guy didn't make it. . . . That makes eight of them that bought it."
Farrel closed his eyes a moment. "They're taking it personally. All the big names are coming into town to cover the story . . . Tom Brokaw, Rather, Jennings. I don't need that right now. We did get a couple of breaks last night, though.
Our people picked up one of the hitters at the airport, and we got another trying to rent a car. All we're missing is the wounded one."
Eli waited for more news but saw his boss staring vacantly at his coffee cup. "Sir, you said there were a couple of breaks?"
Farrel nodded as if to himself. "I'm sorry, yes, the other break came from the Washington office. It appears the female, Dana Cooper, the assistant to Wentzel who was murdered, was the one who erased the computer hard drives and blanked the disks. Her prints were found on the computers and she was the last one to sign out of the office the day before the murders took place. A search of her apartment turned up an airplane ticket for Paris--she was scheduled to depart the afternoon she was killed. They also found a faked passport in the name of Delia Beckman, along with IDs and credit cards and twenty thousand dollars in travelers checks. They're checking her finances now, and I suspect we'll find she has big money deposited somewhere."
Eli's face tightened. "It's getting uglier by the minute, sir.
Whoever is running the show has money to burn and is taking no chances with loose ends. . . . Who is the player, sir?"
Farrel raised his eyes. "What?"
Eli met his superior's stare. "You can cut the crap with me, sir. Last night you told me they ID'd the blond shooter I shot--his name was Orlando, a Cuban. And yesterday, ten minutes before the attack, Agent Eddings told me about the anonymous e-mail he'd received saying a player was involved with the Yona Group. Come on, sir, I'm not stupid.
A hired Cuban hit crew stinks of a connection. . . . Who is the player?"
Farrel's eyes narrowed. "Eddings shouldn't have told you about that e-mail message, Tanner. Don't breathe a damn word of it or I'll have your ass, you understand me?"
"No, sir, I don't understand. What the hell is goin' on?
Why are you keeping the player connection secret?"
Farrel studied Eli's face a moment before lowering his eyes and speaking in almost a whisper. "The DEA has the lead on the possible connection, not us. The 'deputy isn't happy about it, either, but it's orders from the top--the DEA has it and we're to provide support."
Surprised by Farrel's words, Eli leaned closer. "The DEA has a suspect?"
"I don't know . . . their case agent in charge is flying up from Miami and briefing us this afternoon on what they have. In the meantime we're to keep working on reconstructing the senator's investigation into the Yona Group."
"This is bullshit," Eli said angrily.
"I know it's bullshit, Tanner, but I've got my orders and we'll all do as we're told. Now drop it; this conversation didn't happen. . . Have you seen Agent Sutton this morning?"
Trying to calm himself, Eli nodded slowly. "Yes, sir, she's feeling a lot better. They're going to release her sometime today if the shrink clears her."
"Good. She's a tough little thing, isn't she?"
"Yes, sir, she is."
"I had my doubts about her. Hell, I admit it. I didn't like her . . . a damn admin wire head, and a feminist to boot, but I have to give credit where credit is due. She's done all right as a field agent. Well, guess I'd better make the rounds and see our people. Damn, it's hard, Tanner; it's hard seeing them lying there all beat to hell. Hardest damn part of the job is doing this. . Damnit! They've got to get the asshole responsible for this."
Eli was about to agree but froze. Despite the blue canvas sling around her neck, Stacy Starr looked stunning even at that early hour.
Stacy smiled when she stopped only a few feet away from their table. "It looks like it's my lucky day. I've found the two men I've been looking for. How are you, Donny?"
Farrel dipped his chin. "I'm doing okay under the circumstances, Miss Starr. How's your arm?"
"I'm alive, thanks to Agent Tanner," she said, then pinned Farrel with a glare. "Donny, what's this about a Washington public affairs officer taking over as your office spokesman?"
"It's too big for my people to handle, Miss Starr. You can understand that."
"I do if you tell him to work with us locals on an equal basis. If he grants one interview with a national before he talks to us, you'll have hell to pay."
"He knows how it's played, Miss Starr. How's your sound man doing?"
Stacy stepped closer as she pulled a piece of paper from her oversize purse. "Like me, he was treated and released last night. I thought I'd better show you this. It was on my e-mail when I got back home from the hospital. It was sent yesterday morning."
Farrel took the paper and began reading. His head snapped up. "Where did you get this?"
"As I just said, on my e-mail. I take it by your response it's not just a weirdo who got my personal e-mail address?"
"Don't you dare use my reaction as confirmation. You ambushed me. Now where did it come from?" Farrel asked as he handed the paper to Eli, who quickly read the one paragraph.
To Stacy Starr, Channel 2:
The attack on Senator Goodnight and his family was ordered by a major Cuban drug player in Miami. The reason was to stop the investigation into the Yona Group of Dahlonega, Georgia. This information will give you a start in the right direction, but you must be very careful and don't trust anyone until you go public. Your life is in extreme danger now that you have this information.
Concerned Georgia Citizen "Come on, Donny, you know I can't reveal sources .. and I don't know anyway," Stacy said. "There was no return e-mail address. When I saw what it said, I downloaded it and ran a couple of copies. That's your copy. You can keep it, but you should know I'm already working on it."
"Sit down!" Farrel growled.
Stacy rolled her eyes but pulled up a chair. Farrel leaned close to her. "What you got cannot be released to the public, do you understand? It will jeopardize our case. I'm not being overly dramatic here, Miss Starr; I'm serious. Whoever sent this to you must be deeply involved. I can't tell you any more than that, but believe me, I can't allow you to go public with what you have."
Stacy shrugged. "You're obviously tired, Donny, and aren't thinking. Whoever sent me the information wants it to get out. If I don't follow up on it, the source will just send the information to some other station or paper until he or she gets what they want. I called around and did some checking and no other station or paper received that message. It looks like the source wanted the best reporter on it and gave it to me."
"Christ," Farrel said, lowering his head, "I don't need this."
Stacy smiled as she patted his hand. "Don't worry, Donny, I'll cooperate fully with you. I already found out one of the shooters killed in the parking lot was ID'd by your people. He was a Cuban named Jorge Orlando. I checked with some friends in Miami and found out this Orlando was a mechanic-for-hire for the drug boys. I also ran a check on the Yona Group to see what business they were in. I must admit that part of the e-mail didn't make sense to me--when I found out they owned a bunch of smaller companies that just do conversions of vans and boats. But Donny, when I ran a check and saw who was running the group and who the partners were, then I smelled a whopper of a story. Tell me, Donny, have you picked up the leaders of the Yona Group for questioning yet?"
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Farrel looked into her eyes for a long moment before responding. "Miss Starr, we're going to need some time . . . you're way ahead of us on this."
Stacy returned his stare for a moment before her eyes widened. "You do know who runs the Yona Group, don't you?"
Farrel's face screwed up as if in pain. "Look, you were there yesterday. You know Agent Eddings was killed, but you probably didn't know he was my case agent in charge.
Don't quote me on that and don't say a damn word about Orlando or his possible connection to the Yona Group. We know who the group's leaders are, and we're investigating, but we need more time. You'll have to sit on your information for at least a day to allow us to catch up. Promise me."
Duty Bound (1995) Page 14
