Stacy held his gaze a long moment before lowering her chin. "Okay, but I want to be told when you do move. And Donny, I want to be told about anything else that breaks on this case two hours before it's officially released. That's the deal for my cooperation."
"One hour," Farrel said.
Stacy's eyes fell on Eli. "Okay, Donny, but one more thing and we've got a deal. I want you to please tell Agent Tanner to be at my place at nine tonight for dinner. It's my way of thanking him for saving my life. Do we have a deal?"
Farrel looked at Eli as if saying, Don't give me a hard time on this. Eli nodded. "Sir, I would be honored to have dinner with Miss Starr this evening."
"Deal, Miss Starr," Farrel said. "But don't tell a living soul we're giving you preferential treatment."
She got up and bowed her head. "Always a pleasure seeing you, Donny. And Agent Tanner, dress casual tonight.
Good day, gentlemen."
As soon as Stacy walked away, Farrel wearily shook his head. "Goddamn it! That's all I needed . . . the damn media involved."
Eli shrugged. "At least she was nice about it. Most of the sharks wouldn't have shown you that message--they would have run with what they had."
"Nice? Tanner, Stacy Starr is a lot of things, but nice isn't one of them. She's got me by the balls and knows it. You can bet she smells a Pulitzer in this story. You'd better call the GBI and move up the meeting time. I need what they have on the Yona Group. . . . I wasn't all that honest with Starr. Eddings was going to run a check on the group's leaders yesterday. Maybe the GBI has something on them and can save us time. Plus I don't want the GBI thinking this is an all-fed show."
"I'll call now, sir," Eli said, getting up. He handed the e-mail message back to his boss. "The source says the player was Cuban and that he ordered the hits."
"I read it, Tanner. Forget you saw it. I'll give the message to the DEA and see if they might know who the source is.
And Tanner, I'm sorry about the dinner thing with Starr. She had me in a box."
Eli sighed. "No problem, sir. Anything for the Bureau."
Ten minutes later Eli walked into Ashley's hospital room and was surprised to see her sitting in a chair, fully dressed.
She rose as soon as he entered. "Where have you been?
Come on, let's get out of here," she said.
"Whoa, Sutton. You're not going anywhere until the docs say you can go."
Ashley motioned to her dressing. "Look, they changed the bandage and gave me an appointment for next week.
I've been cleared for limited duty, so let's get out of here."
Eli still blocked the door. "You're supposed to see a shrink."
"She just left, Tanner. Now if you don't mind, I want out of here. I've been around you too much, I guess; I've picked up your aversion to hospitals."
Eli put his arm up to stop her from grasping the doorknob. "Wait a minute, Sutton, I'm working. I've got to be at the GBI headquarters in thirty minutes for a meeting. I can't drive you back to Columbus right now."
She pushed his arm down. "Fine, I'll go with you. Give me the keys; I'll drive."
"Slow down, will ya? Can you drive with your eye bandaged that way?"
"Tanner, I'm not riding with you if you drive, so it's me driving or me taking a cab to the GBI. Decide."
Eli handed her the van keys. Fifteen minutes later Ashley was driving down Peachtree Street listening as Eli filled her In on Stacy Starr's e-mail and the SAC's deal with her to keep a lid on the information. Eli left out the last part of the deal, the dinner date.
Ashley shook her head when he had finished. "The SAC shouldn't have made the deal."
"You don't get it, Sutton. Starr is a shark and that e-mail pointed her in the direction of fresh blood. What do you think would happen if she reported on the national news that she had received information from an unnamed source incriminating the Yona Group as being connected to the murders of Senator Goodnight and his family? And then she says that the FBI would not confirm or deny that the company is in fact under investigation? Come on, Sutton, tell me what would happen then?"
Ashley's shoulders sagged. "Okay, okay, I see your point.
If she released the information, the rest of the media would have pounced on it and started their own investigations of the group. Yeah, I see what you mean. They'd get to the suspects and friends and family before we would and really screw things up."
"Right," Eli said.
Ashley's face constricted. "Maybe we should let her release what she has. The media will fry them if they're dirty. The sharks will make sure the bastards get what they deserve."
Eli looked at her a moment before shifting his gaze toward the road. "That's not the way to run an investigation.
The source is running the show, and you have to ask yourself what's behind it."
Ashley clenched the steering wheel tighter. "Maybe the bastards killed somebody the source cared about, Tanner.
They know how slow we move. Maybe they wanted justice now."
"Attack by the media isn't justice, Sutton," Eli said softly.
"Just as long as they get eaten, Tanner. Media or us, it doesn't matter to me just as long as the bastards go down."
Eli said nothing; obviously his partner had been hurt from more than the eye wound.
8:30 A. M., Washington, D. C.
Georgia Congressman Bradley Richards held his briefcase and the Washington Post as he walked toward his Cadillac parked in the town-house parking lot. A fat man in a silk suit came up alongside him and said, "We need to talk, Congressman."
Richards slowed his steps. "Do I know you?"
"No, Brad, but we have a mutual friend who's been letting you use his cash to make yourself a lot of money."
Richards came to an abrupt halt. "What do you want?" he asked, unable to hide the tension in his voice.
"It's not about what I want, Brad. It's about what our mutual friend wants. You need to make a call. Here, please use my cell phone. Call the Dahlonega bank and release the money to a Mr. Inez, who is in the bank and waiting for. the release. I know it's early, but believe me, he's there and so is your banker friend. Just do it."
Richards's forehead began glistening with nervous perspiration. "Wh-Why?"
"Come on, Brad. You know why. Very soon you and your buddies are going to be investigated. Our friend is a cautious man, and cautious men always think ahead to avoid problems. Just make the call and make our friend happy for me."
"In-Investigated? Why?"
"Ah, come on, Brad, don't give me that 'I don't know what you're talking about' look. You and your friends have been greedy. We've tried to keep you out of trouble, but it's beyond that now. All we can do is stall them for a while while we divest ourselves of you guys. Make the call."
"It . . . it wouldn't do any good for me to call the banker.
He doesn't know I'm involved with the company."
The fat man nodded. "That was smart of you, Brad. Okay, then call your buddy Henry Cobb. He can release the money, can't he?"
Trembling, Richards carefully put down his briefcase and took the phone. His hands were shaking so badly that it took two tries to punch in the right sequence of numbers.
"Good morning, please put Henry on the line. It's Brad Richards . . . Hello, Henry . . . Yes, I know it's early, but we have a problem. I have a gentleman standing beside me who says our principal investor is concerned and wants to pull out right now . . . I know, Henry, I know, but I believe it would be in our best interests to do so. Please call the bank and authorize the release to a Mr. Inez, who is already there . . . Henry, I know the bank isn't open yet, but make the call. He's there. We'll talk again in an hour or so and discuss other options for us . . . Yes, Henry, I think it is that important that we act now . . . Yes, thank you. I'll call again soon, good-bye."
Richards handed the small phone back to the fat man.
"Are you satisfied?"
"We'll see," the obese man said, replacing the phone inside
his suit jacket pocket. "We're going to have to sit awhile and wait. It's not that I don't trust you, Brad, but I have to make sure the money is released without any complications. Once I get the call from Mr. Inez that everything is okay, I'll leave and you'll never see me again.
Come with me."
Richards backed up a step. "If you think I'm going anywhere with you, think again."
"Ahh, Brad, is that any way to talk?" the fat man said.
He nodded toward the dark Buick parked to his front. Immediately the car doors opened and two well-dressed men stepped out.
The fat man said, "Don't make a scene, Brad. Get in the Buick. We'll wait there for the call."
Richards looked around the parking lot, hoping someone was there to yell out to, but there wasn't a soul. The two men stepped closer and the fat man took hold of Richards's arm. "Relax. If you don't try to pull anything funny, you'll be on your way in no time."
.
8:35 A. M., Dahlonega, Georgia.
Seated in the van two blocks from the bank, Ted shook his head in frustration. "Something's wrong, Glenn. They've been sittin' there for over a half hour and nothin' is happenis'. Maybe it's not them."
Glenn kept his eyes on the bank as he spoke. "Uh-uh, it's them. That one guy went into the bank with the banker, and that Winnebago and two Suburbans parked in the alley have Florida plates. . . . Wait, the side door just opened. . . . Look, the rest of them are getting out of the vehicles and going into the bank."
"Shit, Glenn, I don't like this. I can't believe they're getting the damn money in broad daylight. This screws up everything . . . there's going to be too much traffic on the road."
Seated behind the steering wheel, Glenn shook his head.
"Relax, Ted, there won't be any civilians around the detour we're going to make them take. Your plan is a good one, and the guys know what to do. . . . Look, they're beginning to load the money."
Ted lifted a small handheld radio to his mouth. "Tango Two, the runner is coming to the plate. Runner will be in a large tan Winnebago and has two black Suburbans as escorts. Be advised the runner should be advancing to first base in a few minutes. Over."
Ted's radio speaker crackled, then Virgil's voice came over the speaker. "Roger, Tango One. We roger a Winnebago and two escorts . . . runner will be advancing soon.
We are in position and ready. Out."
Glenn smiled as he watched the distant men toting trunks from the bank entrance to the Winnebago. "Look at that, will you. They look like pissants at a picnic, but instead of crumbs, those ants are toting trunks full of soon-to-be-our money. . . . Jesus, seven . . . eight . . . nine . . . ten trunks!
How much are they takin' out?"
Ted had counted, too, and shook his head. "I . . . I don't know . . . I thought it was six million. Maybe they spread the cash out in the ten trunks. I count eight guys. Is that what you got?"
"Yes, I count eight too. . . . Hold it. Look, two guys are escorting the banker into the Winnebago. He doesn't look happy about it."
"Ya wanna bet they're goin' to do him?"
"Uh-huh, the expression on his face told me he thinks the same thing. Okay, they're closing the bank door . . . they must be finished. Here we go . . . they're all getting back into their vehicles."
Ted raised his radio again. "Tango Two, the runner is heading for first. Over."
"Roger, out."
Glenn had begun to pull the van away from the curb when Ted lifted his hand. "Hold it. Look, they're turning around.
What the . . . Oh shit, they're heading north, not south like we thought."
"Goddamnit, Teddy, are they lost? There's only one way in and of town, Highway 19. If they stay heading north, they'll end up in North Carolina."
Ted watched the large recreational vehicle pass by and threw up his hands in frustration. "Christ'a'mighty, they've screwed up everything. Follow 'em! Keep your distance, but don't let 'em out of your sight." He quickly raised his radio. "Tango Two, be advised the runner is not advancing to first base. I say again, he's not advancing to first . . . he's going to third on us. Come to home base immediately and take 19 north until you find us. You copy?"
"Roger, we're on the way. Out."
Ted lowered the radio. "Shit! I can't believe they're taking the money north instead of heading toward Florida."
"Ted, it could be the best thing that could have happened.
They're heading into the mountains . . . Chattahoochee National Forest begins a few miles up. Once Virgil and Ramon get ahead of them, there will be plenty of good places to set up the ambush site . . . not much traffic, either."
"Yeah, yeah, but I don't like surprises, and those assholes just surprised me. There's gotta be a reason they're headin' north. Oh shit, maybe there's an airstrip somewhere up ahead. They could have a chopper or plane waiting."
Glenn winced. "Oooh shit."
8:47 A. M., Washington, D. C.
Congressman Brad Richards jumped when the cell phone held by the fat man rang. The obese man lifted the phone to his ear. "Yes, I'm here . . . Good. I'll pass on the good news."
He pushed the terminate button and looked at Richards with a smile. "You've done well, Brad. Mr. Inez says he has the money in his possession. You can go now. . . . Oh, and Brad.
You know to never tell anyone you did business with our friend, don't you?"
Richards was so relieved to be getting out of the car he could only nod. Seated in the backseat between the two suited men had been the worst experience of his life. He had sat the whole time wondering which one would kill him.
The man to his right opened his door and got out. Richards slid toward the open door but saw out of the corner of his eye the other man reach inside his jacket. The car door suddenly closed, blocking his escape. Richards shut his eyes.
Hearing the coughing sound, the fat man turned and saw the congressman fall forward. The other man got back in the car and pushed the body over onto the floor.
The fat man started the engine and spoke over his shoulder. "Get that garbage bag over his head before he ruins the carpet."
Chapter 11.
8:45 A. M., headquarters, Georgia Bureau of Investigation, Atlanta.
Georgia Bureau Detective Ed Faraday walked into the small conference room and gave Eli a scowl. Seeing Ashley, he changed his expression and extended his hand to her.
"Good to see you again, Agent Sutton. I'm very sorry for what happened."
Ashley kept her seat at the table as she took his hand.
"Thanks, Ed, it's good to see you again, too."
"That eye going to be all right?"
"Bandage comes off in two weeks and I should be one hundred percent."
"That's good news," Faraday said, then his faced turned sour again. "Cover your ears for a minute for me." The detective turned and pointed his finger at Eli's face. "Ya son of a bitch. How come ya requested me to head up our side?"
Eli shrugged. "Because you're the best, Ed."
"Horseshit, Tanner. You don't know any other GBI detectives but me."
"I know ya like country music and Bubba's ribs . . . what else is there to know?"
Faraday's scowl slowly faded. "Yeah, ya got a point there, I guess."
Eli stood and patted the stocky detective's shoulder.
"Look, Ed, you did a helluva job on that last case we worked together. I need your help on this. It's big-time."
Ed's face soured again. "Yeah, sure, you need our help.
You feds are screwin' up already by treatin' us state boys like ugly stepchildren. What I hear on the news and read in the papers this mornin'? Over a hundred fifty federal agents are going to be working the case? And not one damn word in any report about GBI involvement. Sounds to me and my pissed-off bosses like you feds don't need anything from us except for us to stay out of the way."
"Ed, seven of our people were killed yesterday. Our Public Affairs mouthpiece was posturing for the benefit of the press."
"Posturing? That what you f
eds call it? My bosses call it snubbing. I'm here, Tanner. You got what you wanted.
The governor told my director to cooperate fully with you guys, but I'm tellin' ya up front--because we're friends-- my boss is not happy, and neither is the rest of the crew in the GBI."
Duty Bound (1995) Page 15
