by Stuart Woods
“Yes, I’ve seen the Westover Motors stickers on the vehicles from out there.”
“Damnit, Holly, I’m not talking about me, I’m talking about the community as a whole, and how we benefit from having them out there.”
“How does the community benefit, apart from the tax revenues?” Holly asked.
“In many ways.”
“Such as?”
Westover was sweating now. “Holly, you’re just going to have to take my word for it.”
“I’m glad to do that, John,” she replied.
“Now, as I say, the Palmetto Gardens people want to be as separate as possible, and that works very well for the community, too.”
“You already said that, John.”
“Now I understand that the question of the licensing of a security guard has arisen.”
“You spoke to Barney Noble, then?”
“Yes, he called me an hour ago.”
“I see. Go on.”
“Well, as you might understand, Barney is upset that we’re trying to deprive him of one of his valued people, and I really don’t think that we should be sticking our noses into his operation out there.”
“I see, John. Tell me, did Barney explain to you who this man is and why I have a problem with him?”
“I didn’t ask any questions,” Westover said quickly, holding up his hands. “It’s really not necessary for me to know about it.”
“I think you need to know about this individual, John,” Holly said, continuing over his protests. “Mr. Elwood Mosely, a.k.a. Cracker Mosely, has a record going back to his teens, when he was convicted of vandalism and cruelty to animals. I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but you’ve got to do something really cruel to animals to attract the attention of the authorities.”
“Holly, I…”
“Please listen to me, John. Mr. Mosely joined the Miami Police Department, and soon he was running a protection racket for drug dealers. They’d give him a cut of their take, and Mr. Mosely would spread the money around, keeping some for himself, of course, thus removing these drug dealers from the attention of the police. Then one day one of these dealers failed to give Mr. Mosely his cut, so Mr. Mosely, when he saw the man, jumped out of his police car and, in broad daylight, in front of witnesses, beat the man to death. Mr. Mosely’s own partner arrested him, and Mr. Mosely was convicted of manslaughter, a serious crime, and sent to prison.”
Westover had turned pale now. He was mopping the sweat from his face with a large handkerchief, but he didn’t interrupt.
“Now, John, perhaps you don’t know that a convicted felon may not be licensed as a security guard in the state of Florida; neither may he be licensed to carry a weapon. But, because of some anomaly in the state’s record keeping, Mr. Mosely now holds both those licenses. This means that a convicted killer is wearing a badge and carrying a gun in our lovely community, and, John”—Holly leaned forward and rested her hands on her desk—“I’m not going to have it.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Westover said, his shoulders slumping.
“So,” Holly continued, “I think you’d better call Barney Noble back and tell him that if Mr. Mosely isn’t in this office by noon tomorrow to surrender those licences, I’m going to come out to Palmetto Gardens and get him.”
“Holly…”
“I hope I’ve made myself perfectly clear on this, John, and if I haven’t, then I suggest you call an urgent meeting of the city council, and I’ll explain it to them.”
“All right, all right,” Westover said, defeated. He stood up and walked out of her office without another word, mopping the back of his neck with his handkerchief.
Holly watched him go with some satisfaction. She had known that she was going to butt heads with him eventually, and she was glad that she had been on such solid ground when it had happened.
The private line on her desk rang, and she picked it up. “Holly Barker.”
“Holly, it’s Harry Crisp.”
“Hey, Harry, what’s up?”
“You’ve got the bureau’s attention. I’m coming up there with some people later today; we should be at Jackson’s place by eight o’clock tonight.”
“I’m glad to hear it, Harry,” she said. “Are you bringing somebody who can sweep Jackson’s house and my trailer for electronic surveillance?”
“I am, and he’s very good, believe me.”
“I believe you. Do you need any help from me? Do you have someplace to stay?”
“I’m staying at Jackson’s, and we’ve booked the others into various motels around town, so as not to attract attention.”
“Harry, I had one other thought.”
“Go ahead.”
“That communications building. I have a hunch that it’s at the heart of whatever is going on out there. Do you know anybody at the National Security Agency?” Holly knew that the agency existed to monitor communications around the world.
“I’m way ahead of you. I’ve put in a request for analysis of their transmissions, but I don’t know whether they’re going to give us what we want or even how long it will take to find out if they will or won’t.”
“Okay, I’ll leave the red tape to you.”
“Will you call Jackson and tell him we’re on the way, and that I expect dinner for six hungry feds?”
“I sure will, and don’t worry, he’s a wonderful cook.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“No kidding. See you around eight.” Holly hung up the phone with hope in her heart.
CHAPTER
43
H olly worked late on the personnel files, then went home, changed, fed Daisy and went to Jackson’s house. In addition to Jackson’s car there were two gray vans parked outside. Inside, Harry Crisp was talking on Jackson’s phone, five young men sat around the living room watching TV and reading magazines, and Jackson was on the back porch, grilling steaks. She gave Harry a wave and went out back.
Jackson flipped over some steaks. “You’re just in time,” he said. “These guys are hungry, and if I kept them waiting any longer, they’d be eating Daisy.”
Daisy looked up at the mention of her name.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart, nobody’s going to eat you,” Holly said.
Daisy sat down and watched the steaks closely, as if they might bolt at any moment.
“How long have they been here?” Holly asked.
“Nearly an hour. Harry has been on the phone for all of that. What with the long-distance charges and the steaks, they’re going to break me.” Jackson started forking the steaks onto a large platter. “His guy swept the place and your trailer; I gave him the key. No bugs.”
“That’s good.”
“Let’s eat,” he said. He walked into the house, showed Harry the food and called everybody to the table.
Harry hung up the phone. “Holly, how are you?”
“Okay, Harry.”
“Oh, these are my agents—Bill, Joe, Jim, Ed, and Arnie.”
“Hey, guys.”
Everybody waved; a couple of them shook her hand. They sat down and fell on the food.
Daisy curled up on the rug a few feet away.
“What kind of dog is that?” Bill asked.
“Doberman pinscher, name of Daisy.”
“Girl dog?”
“Bitch is the word.”
“Funny, she looks very nice. Does she do anything besides sleep?”
“Daisy, get me a beer,” Holly said.
Daisy got up, went to the fridge and brought Holly a beer.
“What, she doesn’t open it?” Bill asked.
“That’s my kind of dog,” Arnie said.
“She’ll chew your leg off at the hip, too, if she’s asked nicely,” Holly said.
“Sorry if I said anything to offend you, Daisy,” Bill said contritely.
“Anything new since yesterday?” Harry asked.
“Yeah,” she replied. “You’ll like this, Jackson. I’m pulling Cracker Mosely’s security-guard an
d gun licenses. I told Barney to have them on my desk by noon tomorrow, or I’d come out there and get them.”
“Why’d you do that?” Jackson asked.
“He showed up at my office and demanded to know why I was running criminal records checks on his people; he apparently got a call from his contact at the state level. I concocted a story that satisfied him, but he was annoying me, so I built a little fire under Cracker. Then he called John Westover and bitched about it to him, and John came down to my office and asked me to change my mind.”
“What’d you say to that?”
“I pretty much told him to go fuck himself. He didn’t have a leg to stand on. Did you know that he sells Palmetto Gardens their vehicles, including the Range Rovers?”
“Doesn’t surprise me,” Jackson said.
“I want to get inside Palmetto Gardens,” Harry said.
“Yeah? How you going to do that?” Jackson asked.
“I don’t know. I was hoping you and Holly would have a suggestion.”
“They don’t use any local help that I’ve been able to learn about,” Holly said. “They seem to do all their own maintenence.”
“You know anybody who’s ever been in there?”
“Yeah, I have. Barney Noble gave me a superficial tour of the place, and I played golf out there with him once. I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, except that some of the help were wearing guns under their jackets.”
“Tell me about the security you saw when you were there.”
“There are two gates, main and service. Both of them have steel barriers and tire spikes that are operated by the guard on duty from his booth. The guards wear sidearms and have assault rifles in their booths. Barney showed me security headquarters, but I didn’t go inside. He told me they had a lockup there, said it was like a small-town police station. That’s about it.”
“What do you think would happen if I went to the front gate, flashed my badge and said that I wanted to look around?”
“You’d be told that it was private property, and Barney would probably come to the gate and tell you you’d need a search warrant. He might give you the same tour he gave me.”
“Oh.”
“Why would you want him to know the feds were interested?”
“I wouldn’t. I’m just exploring possibilities.”
Jackson spoke up. “Might be nice to know who the owners are of the airplanes that fly in and out of there.”
“Good idea. Could the local tower give us that?”
“I doubt it, since they don’t land at Orchid airport,” Jackson said. “Air Traffic Control would have the registration numbers from the flight plans in their computer—Miami Center would be the place to call. They could also tell you where the flights originate.”
“Jim, you get onto that first thing tomorrow,” Harry said.
“Right,” Jim replied.
“Bill, you talk to customs and immigration. See if you can interview whoever they send to the Palmetto Gardens airfield when flights come in. I want to know everything about the people who’re flying in there.”
“Right,” Bill said.
“I could fly you over the place for a look, if you like,” Jackson said.
Harry shook his head. “I don’t think I’d see anything that isn’t in your aerial photographs. Besides, they’ve seen two low overflights already; we don’t want to make them nervous. Bill, while you’re talking to customs, find out if any boats have come into the Palmetto Gardens marina from out of the country.”
“Okay,” Bill replied.
“Arnie, I want you somewhere near the service gate out there. I want a description of every vehicle that comes and goes—food deliveries, plumbers, whatever.”
“Okay,” Arnie said.
“What can I do to help, Harry?” Holly asked.
“Well, you can’t put any of your people on this,” Harry said. “Not while you think you’ve got a mole in your department.”
“Good point. I’ve got complete freedom of movement myself, though.”
“First thing I want to know is does this Mosely guy show up with his licenses,” Harry said. “If he doesn’t, that’ll give you an excuse to go out there with a warrant. Then, if we want to get in there again, we could bust some more of Noble’s guys. How many of them showed up in the national computer?”
“All of them,” Holly said. “Barney’s security force is a regular rogue’s gallery.”
“That would rattle whoever controls the place,” Harry said. “If we bust their whole security force, that would get their attention.”
“I could have already done that,” Holly said, “but that’s not going to tell us what’s going on out there.”
“Could you check your local records for the names of the owners of the houses at Palmetto Gardens?” Harry asked.
“I can do that,” Holly replied
“That might give us a list of the members, then we could do background checks on them.”
“Good idea.”
“If Mosely comes in tomorrow, I’d like to get a good look at him. Can you arrange that?”
“Sure.”
“Without anyone knowing who I am?”
“Sure, I can handle that.”
“Suppose you question Mosely about something, anything, and I listen in. Maybe Mosely is a way into that place.”
“I’ve got an idea,” Holly said. “Let’s do it this way.” She outlined the idea that had just come to her. “It might not work, but it wouldn’t hurt to try.”
CHAPTER
44
A t eleven o’clock the phone on Holly’s desk rang. She let it ring a couple of times, then picked it up and said, “Holly Barker. Hold on a minute, will you?” Then she pressed the HOLD button. She knew it was Barney Noble, and she wanted him to sweat a little.
“Hello?” she said finally.
“It’s Barney.”
“Hi, Barney,” she said brightly. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
“Mosely will be in your office at eleven-thirty with his licenses,” Barney said. “I want your assurance that you won’t charge him with anything.”
“Barney,” Holly said, “I’m not giving you any assurances about anything. I run this department, not you, and if you ever try to go over my head with the city council again, you’re going to find out just how hard I can make your life.”
“Don’t threaten me, Holly.”
“I’ll threaten you all I like,” she said. “How would you like me to have all your people’s gun licenses pulled and then come out there and confiscate all your firearms? I can do that, you know, and you can’t do a goddamned thing about it.”
Barney was suddenly placating. “Now, Holly, let’s not get into a pissing match here.”
“We won’t have any problem, Barney, as long as you understand that you are operating in my jurisdiction, and not the other way around.” She didn’t know quite why she was pushing him so hard, but every instinct in her body told her to do it.
“All right, all right,” Barney said. “Mosely will be there in half an hour. How long are you going to keep him there?”
“As long as I want to,” Holly said, then hung up. She called Harry Crisp’s cell phone.
“Yes?” Crisp said.
“Come now.”
“Right with you.”
Two minutes later Crisp walked into the police station, gave his name and asked for Holly.
Holly’s intercom rang. “Put Mr. Crisp into interview two,” she said. She hung up and watched as Harry was led down the hallway.
At eleven-thirty, her intercom rang again. “Yes?”
“A Mr. Mosely to see you.”
“Put him in interview one,” she said. Now she got her first look at Mosely. He was just as big as Jackson had said, and just as ugly. She let him wait ten minutes, then stood up. “Come on, Daisy,” she said, “let’s you and I interview Cracker Mosely.” She picked up a file folder, put the dog on a leash and walked down the hallway
toward the interview rooms. She opened the door of number two. Harry Crisp was sitting quietly at the two-way mirror, looking at Mosely. “The volume control is right there, Harry.”
“Got it,” Crisp replied. “He’s mean-looking, isn’t he?”
“You bet.”
“I’ll shoot him through the glass if he gives you a hard time.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Holly said. She opened the door to interview room one and was nearly dragged off her feet by Daisy, who had her front paws on the table, trying to reach Mosely. “Daisy! Back off! Back off!”
It was the first time that Daisy had not obeyed her instantly. It took her the better part of a minute to get the dog calmed down. When she was satisfied that the dog was completely under her control again, she unhooked the leash and took a seat.
Mosely was staring at the dog, fear on his face. “Put him back on the leash,” he said. “I don’t want to have to kill that dog.”
“Tell you the truth, Cracker, my money would be on the dog, and I’d give long odds.”
Daisy made a rumbling noise in her throat, imitating Holly’s tone.
“Stay, Daisy. Guard!”
Daisy moved from a prone to a sitting position, staring intently at Mosely.
Holly was intrigued by Daisy’s reaction to Mosely, but she didn’t make a point of it. “Let’s have the licenses,” she said, without further ado.
Mosely shoved an envelope across the table.
Holly opened it and examined the two pieces of paper; the gun license had been laminated. “Good,” she said, looking up at Mosely and smiling a little. “Now all I have to decide is whether to send you back to prison.”
Mosely’s jaw dropped. “Barney said that wasn’t an issue.”
“Gee, I don’t know where Barney got that idea,” Holly said. “As far as I’m concerned you’re all mine, if I want you.”
“I don’t get it,” Mosely said. “I applied for the licenses, and they were issued.”
“Yeah,” Holly said, opening her file folder, “I have copies of your applications right here. Both of them ask the question, ‘Have you ever been convicted of any crime?’ And your answer, on both applications, was no.”
