by Glenn Trust
“Will you join me? To celebrate our partnership?”
“You know, I believe I will. Love a good cigar.”
“Bueno.” His companion nodded and expertly clipped the end caps of the cigars. Taking one he rolled it in his fingers over the blue flame of his cigar torch until the tip glowed red and evenly. Handing it to the man driving, he repeated the procedure for his own cigar.
Pungent gray smoke filled the Escalade. Carrying hints of the rich tropical earth that had produced the tobaccos and tropical breezes and spices, it made the heavyset man think of dark bodied women rolling the cigars gracefully against their curving thighs, preparing each cigar perfectly, just for him. He knew that it was more likely that a toothless old grandmother at a worn, wooden workbench had rolled the fine cigar he puffed. It didn’t matter. He preferred the image in his head.
Taking the cigar from his mouth, he held it up and allowed the smoke to drift into his nostrils. “Cuban?”
“No, no. Not Cuban. From my home. Dominican.” The thin man took a long, thoughtful pull on the cigar, letting the smoke drift from his mouth and surround his head. Nodding in satisfaction he said, “The best cigars are from the Dominican Republic.”
“Your family in the business? They grow tobacco?”
“Some are. Not me.”
“You branched out into other…uh, activities.” He smiled, puffing contentedly.
“Yes,” the Dominican nodded. “And more profitable.” He held the cigar up as you would a glass of wine in a toast, moved it back and forth letting the smoke spread around his face and then puffed.
They rode in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the cigars and the sun on the water. Here and there, people stood along the shore or in the surf along the causeway’s bank casting lines out fishing. There were narrow park areas where families pulled off in the middle of the causeway to picnic and play in the water.
“It is very beautiful here.” The Dominican watched a mother and father holding a child’s hands, lifting her and dipping her feet in and out of the water. “My country, on Hispaniola, is beautiful also. Haiti, not so much, but the Dominican Republic is magnificent. I could show you some time when you visit.”
“Sounds good.” The heavyset man was from a very different place. He wondered how his partner would feel about the backwater swamp areas they were using as their center of operations. He would know soon enough. “Have you spoken to your men today?”
“Yes, and you?”
“I spoke to them. They have been walking your people through the operation. No problems.”
“Good.” There was nothing more to say.
Coming off the east end of the causeway, he followed the signs into TPA, Tampa International Airport, at the junction of Highway 60 and I-275. Taking the lane marked for international departures, he slowed the Escalade and merged with the other traffic. At the terminal, he stopped along the curb. The Dominican turned and extended his hand.
“It has been, and will be a pleasure doing business with you, Roy.”
“Likewise, Ramon.” They shook hands firmly.
As Ramon reached into the back seat for his bag he said, “Enjoy the cigar. I will bring you a box on my next visit.”
“Thanks much. I’ll return the favor sometime.”
Leaning into the car, speaking in a conspiratorial whisper, Ramon said, “You know what I would really like to sample? American moonshine. Homemade whiskey. I understand it is quite strong.”
Roy chuckled. “Well, it’s called a lot of things and strong would be one of the nicer things you could call it. I’ll see what I can do next time you’re in town.”
“Yes, but I understand it’s illegal. The government still hunts down people who make and sell it, don’t they?”
“Ramon, everything has a price. Arrangements can be made.”
“Good. I will look forward to it then, my first taste of moonshine.” The door closed and Ramon walked into the terminal for the seven-hour flight to his next appointment.
A half hour later, Roy Budroe was merging into the I-75 traffic heading north out of the Tampa area to the Georgia line. It would be a long day and he had a stop to make. The words he had spoken to his new partner from the Dominican Republic came to mind. Everything had a price. It was business. Some paid, and some got rich. Roy Budroe intended to be the one who got rich.
7. A Nice Ring
Walking the wide corridor, Agent Bob Shaklee of the Georgia Bureau of Investigation had the feeling he was being called to the principal’s office. The dome of the Georgia State Capitol across Capitol Avenue caught his eye as he passed a long stretch of clear glass. Gilded in gold leaf from Dahlonega, Georgia, the dome, sparkled in the early morning sun. He could not help stopping and gawking like a tourist.
Another fifty feet and he came to the heavy oak door that opened into the governor’s large outer receiving area. A middle-aged receptionist sat beside the door to the big man’s office. A smaller office across the room housed the governor’s personal assistant. An even smaller office beside that one housed the governor’s plain-clothes security detail from the Georgia State Patrol. The man seated at the small desk in that office regarded Bob intently and then nodded, satisfied that he was the Agent Robert Shaklee they were expecting, and the one who had been announced by the security checkpoint officer downstairs. Shaklee returned the nod and crossed the room to the receptionist.
The furniture was all mahogany and the walls were done in dark paneling. Plush rugs in different shades of blue with contrasting patterns in gold and beige covered the wood parquet floors.
Raising her head as he walked in, the governor’s assistant, rose from her desk and strode briskly from her office towards Bob, smiling broadly. Even as far down the pecking order as Shaklee sat at the GBI, the woman approaching him with her hand out was known within the state government as the Organizer-in-Chief. The unofficial title sounded innocuous, but those who dealt with the governor learned quickly not to take Pamela Towers for granted. She wielded a great deal of influence, official and unofficial.
“Agent Shaklee, it is really good to meet you.”
Bob took the offered hand in a quick shake. Her grip was firm and businesslike, not trying to impress like some men might have done, just friendly and to the point.
“Nice to meet you too.”
“You know you are quite a celebrity around here.”
Bob’s eyebrows rose questioningly. “Really? How’s that?”
“Surely you must know. The commander of the governor’s special taskforce that broke up the ‘Term Limits Conspiracy’ as the press calls it. Landed some pretty heavy hitters in prison with some pretty stiff sentences. Very impressive, Agent Shaklee.”
“There were a number of other people involved on the task force. One was murdered. Another almost lost her life and left the GBI. There are others. One man faced down two of the killers alone and without backup. They all contributed much more than I.”
“True.” Towers’ voice softened. “Terrible sacrifices. But you created that team and led them.” She regarded Shaklee seeming to evaluate him, analyze and dissect him standing there in the governor’s receiving area. Satisfied she said, “You know that’s why you are here today.”
“Actually, I don’t know. If you do, I’ll be interested to hear.”
“You’re a leader, Bob…May I call you, Bob?” Shaklee nodded and she continued. “You are a leader. Self-effacing, humble, tough when you have to be and straightforward. There’s no politics about you, Bob. That’s why you are here.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“You will. The governor will explain.” She looked at the receptionist who waited attentively while Towers greeted the GBI agent. “Margaret, please let the governor know that Agent Shaklee is here.”
Margaret, the receptionist, lifted the phone on her mahogany desk that was three feet longer than Bob’s GBI desk and punched a button. Pam Towers leaned close to Bob and spoke in a smiling, con
spiratorial whisper.
“There’s another reason you’re a hero around here.” Smiling at Shaklee’s crinkled brow, she said, “You rid us of that bitch, Elizabeth Crestline. She had pretty much tied a knot in everyone’s panties, that is until you tied her to the conspiracy.”
Shaklee smiled at that. As the governor’s liaison for Public Safety, Crestline had been involved in organizing the taskforce and Shaklee had actually reported to her during the investigation. She was a ball buster whose management style verged on bullying. No charges had been brought against her, partly because she cooperated fully and partly because her role had been to provide information to the ones actually planning and leading the murder conspiracy. Politically astute, she lost her job but had managed to walk a fine line that kept her out of prison.
“The governor will see you now, Pamela.”
Towers smiled and opened the heavy door to the governor’s office, allowing Shaklee to enter first. The room was larger than the receiving area. The ubiquitous sky blue carpeting covered the floor, this one with hexagonal gold patterns woven in. The mahogany desk along the far wall was fully eight feet long. Oversized desks seemed to be popular on Capitol Square, at least in the chief executive’s wing.
The state seal was carved in bas-relief into the front of the desk and also hung on the wall behind the desk in full gold. Bob wasn’t sure why it had to be displayed twice. He had no time to think about it.
Seated not behind the huge desk, but in a blue leather chair to one side of the room, Governor Jesse Bell rose to greet Agent Shaklee.
“Big ass desk, isn’t it?” The governor extended his hand.
Shaklee smiled returning the handshake. “Yes sir, pretty big.” He looked around the sitting area, which was apparently the governor’s real office. A table to the side of the chair was neatly stacked with colored folders, reports from state government departments. Bob recognized the GBI’s colors and logo on one of them. A laptop computer on a smaller rolling table sat on the other side. In the center of the seating area, china cups and a stainless steel thermal decanter were laid out on trays on a coffee table.
“I never use it. Only time I sit there is signing bills from the legislature, photo ops and such. Nothing in the drawers but souvenir pens and leather portfolios we give away. Pamela takes care of all that.” He smiled at the Organizer-in-Chief. “Have a seat.”
Shaklee turned and seated himself in a chair facing the governor’s, Towers taking a chair at ninety degrees between the two. The last time, the only time, Bob had been in the governor’s office had been to confront Crestline about her role in the conspiracy. He and Captain Perry Boyd of Atlanta Homicide had interviewed her at length, putting together the final pieces of the puzzle that had left six innocent people dead along with three of the killers.
“You probably want to know why you’re here, Agent Shaklee.” The governor did not ask if he could use his first name.
“The question crossed my mind.”
“I want you to join our team.”
“I’m not sure I understand. I am on the team…the GBI.”
Smiling, Governor Bell continued. “Yes, of course. But I…we, have something else in mind.” He looked at Towers who nodded, her face serious, giving her boss the attention required for the presentation of what was to come. “We are…would like, to appoint you the Director of Special Investigations.”
Shaklee nodded. “But, Governor, I already conduct investigations for the GBI. That is what you pay me to do. I’m not sure I see the difference…or the need.”
Bob Shaklee had not risen to his current position because he lacked insight or intelligence. He knew exactly why this offer was being made. The governor had been on his way out in the last election, along with a lot of other elected officials in the state. In fact, many had lost their lucrative public positions. But the governor had survived and the polls had turned in his favor in large part due to Shaklee’s task force, appointed by the governor, breaking up the murder conspiracy and putting several high-ranking officials in prison. Shaklee knew this. The governor was going to have to say it plainly, for the record.
Still smiling, Governor Bell continued in his rich, deep southern voice. The tone evoked an era when aristocratic gentlemen sipped bourbon discussing affairs of state, politics and their own fortunes. To his credit, the governor did not shy away from the topic. “Agent Shaklee, you know as well as I do that we are sitting here…I am sitting here, because of your handling of the GBI taskforce’s operation. I was a few months away from heading back to the farm, so to speak. My opponent would have won and you and I would not be having this conversation here today.” The governor looked expansively around the room, emphasizing his point.
Shaklee shrugged. “I would have been in my own office, working my case files.”
Bell nodded. “I know very well, that you are not turned by public notice or rank. In fact, I am quite sure that if we made this a very public position, you would turn it down outright and go back to your office at the GBI.” He turned his head towards his assistant. It was her cue.
Not missing a beat Towers picked up the reasoning. “Bob, we want you to take this seriously and consider it reasonably. Yes, you would be working on investigations right now, and perhaps it does not matter to you who the governor is. We understand that, in fact, we respect that about you. That is why we want you to take the job. You will be apolitical. We will structure this so that the office exists, no matter who is governor. Thanks to you and your task force, we have the clout to get that through the legislature right now.”
“Let’s be frank,” Shaklee said looking from the governor to Towers and back. “It is political, because having the person who broke up the conspiracy on your team will win votes, rightly or wrongly.”
“True enough,” the governor said nodding. “In that sense it is political, but it will also be to the benefit of future governors, regardless of their party. That cancels out the politics. Both parties will benefit at some point, equally.” He paused laying all of the cards on the table. “And for now it will benefit this office, this administration. I don’t think that is an unreasonable trade for giving you the kind of investigative authority we offer. Surely, if the proper resources were available to you there are investigations you would undertake that are not currently feasible.”
Shaklee thought of the stack of case files in his office. Many would only get a cursory review. Some would be tied to other cases and would get a deeper look. Some would never receive the full investigative effort they merited. He was being offered the opportunity to focus on cases that he felt had merit and where the most good could be done. It was appealing.
“So what type of special investigations are we speaking about?”
He had taken a step in their direction. Towers responded immediately. “You tell us. You decide. We would suggest that they should be cases that would present some interest to the public, that would benefit the public and which would not normally be investigated as thoroughly as we like because of lack of resources.” She watched his face. “But that’s your call entirely. We trust you to make that decision. We are offering you the resources, Bob.”
“Why this great trust in me?”
The governor spoke. “It’s simple. Your handling of the conspiracy case was exemplary, of course.” He paused, looking Bob in the eye dramatically. “I pride myself on being a good judge of character. I believe I know your heart Agent Shaklee. I believe you are an honest person. We can trust you.”
Bob smiled. The governor was good. He had to give him credit. He buttered Bob’s ass like he was coaxing the panties off a co-ed. Still, some good could be done. If he took the job, he would see to it that it was.
“Okay. Let’s say I’m interested, very interested. Do I conduct these special investigations on my own?”
“You pick your team,” the governor said matter-of-factly. “From anywhere. From any department. We know there are some you have worked with successfully in the past,
some from the taskforce. We will make the arrangements and see that they are appropriately transferred and compensated. They lose nothing, not in pay, grade or retirement. You just have to convince them to join you.” He smiled. “And if they are anything like you that might be your most difficult job.”
“You may be right about that, governor.” He looked up at the painting on the wall over the governor’s head. It depicted the various governors of Georgia from the end of the Civil War to the turn of the twenty first century. Bell was the latest in the line. Some had been strong, some weak. Some were good; some were exceedingly bad. Many were just average. He wondered where Bell would fit in the group. Probably not bad. How good was yet to be determined. Shaklee made up his mind.
“Okay, I’ll give it a try.” The governor and Towers smiled broadly and were about to speak when he continued. “After I discuss it with my wife, and as long as she has no objections.”
Towers nodded appreciatively. “Good. Give Celia my best,” she said, letting him know they had done their homework.
“Good. It’s done then.” The governor looked at Bob with a smile. “Unless of course, Mrs. Shaklee has an objection. Do you think she will, Bob?”
Bob knew that she wouldn’t, although she would probably have some strong opinions about the motivations of the governor and Towers. His mind had already jumped forward to those he wanted to work with him, and how he would convince them to join the team. It would not be a simple matter for any of them.
The governor stood and extended his hand. “We look forward to your official answer soon, after you have a chance to speak with your wife.” He added with a smile, “Tomorrow would be good.” They shook hands and turned towards the door. “We were thinking of calling your group the Major Crimes Investigations Unit, MCIU. What do you think about that, Bob?”
Bob’s face telegraphed his answer before he spoke. “Sounds like a TV show to me.” Which it did. “I am thinking something simpler, like Office of Special Investigations.”
Somewhat deflated, the governor nodded. It did sound like a TV show, which was why he and Towers had thought it would have public appeal. But he wanted Shaklee on board without any hesitations. “Whatever you think, Bob, whatever you think.” Still, MCIU had a nice ring, he thought.
