The Devils Punchbowl pc-3

by Greg Iles

Hull pauses, his rhythm disturbed. “Jonathan Sands has an important relationship to the federal government at this time.”

  I look at Kelly and shake my head in disbelief. “You mean he’s an informant.”

  “I didn't say that.”

  “Well, what did you say? Is Sands employed by the federal government?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Is he a close personal friend of someone in the administration?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Then he’s an informant.”

  Hull sighs like a man unaccustomed to frustration. “Mr. Cage, there’s an investigation pending—a very large and complex investigation—that began almost three years ago. It involves both the Department of Homeland Security and the Justice Department, through the Special Task Force on Money Laundering. The target is a Chinese national named Edward Po.”

  “I know who Po is.”

  “Do you? In any case, Mr. Sands is important to the aforementioned investigation. That'’s all I am authorized to tell you, and given my position, it should be enough.”

  “Well, it’s not. I’'ve played this game before, Mr. Hull. I’'ve dealt with some pretty unsavory characters in order to nail worse ones, so I know the rules. But I also know that at some point you have to draw a line. Being a confidential informant isn’t a free pass to commit murder.”

  Hull takes his time with this. At length he says, “You were an assistant district attorney in Houston, Texas. You were dealing with state crimes. I'm talking about the national security of the United States.”

  “That rubric has been stretched to cover a lot of sins lately. The last time I checked, Mississippi was part of the United States. And her citizens count just as much as those in Georgetown or Chevy Chase. What happens to Sands after your investigation of Po is concluded? Does he walk?”

  There’s another hitch in Hull’s rhythm. “That hasn’'t been determined yet.”

  “Then tell me this: What chance do you really have of nailing a Chinese billionaire in U.S. federal court?”

  “There’s a first time for everything.”

  “You’re telling me somebody up in the Justice Department has finally grown some balls?”

  “It happens. Mr. Cage, I need your personal assurance that you won'’t interfere any further, as of this moment.”

  “You’re not going to get that. Not tonight, anyway.”

  “I'm sure I don'’t need to remind you that you have no law enforcement authority. You’re no longer a prosecutor.”

  “The local DA reminds me of that all the time. I am, however, an American citizen.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Hull, if you'’ve forgotten what that means, we might as well hang up now.”

  “I sense a certain naďveté in your attitude, Mr. Cage. Maybe you'’ve been out of the city too long.”

  At last my outrage boils over. “Do you have any idea what kind of criminal acts Jonathan Sands is committing down here?”

  “Knowing the man’s résumé, I can guess.”

  “My sister was nearly killed in England two hours ago by a hit-and-run driver.”

  “You can prove that was linked to Jonathan Sands?”

  “It wasn'’t coincidence. But even that pales next to kidnapping and murder.”

  “Are you referring to the death of Timothy Jessup?”

  “And possibly others.”

  “Mr. Cage, try to set aside your personal concerns and listen to me for one minute. A little over a month ago, more than two thousand people drowned in New Orleans. If the numbers I'm seeing are any indicator, we’re likely to find another thousand corpses or so, and many will remain unaccounted for. So, as for a few dogs being fought in some backwater Louisiana parish, we don'’t have time for it. As for prostitution and gambling, the authorities in Babylon had the same problem. It’s not going away.”

  “I'm not talking about dogfighting and prostitution.”

  “I heard you. Murder is serious business—if murder is in fact what you have down there. But Edward Po is smuggling illegal aliens into this country by the hundred, some of whom will work in industrial jobs, others as prostitutes or drug couriers. More importantly, through massive and complex money-laundering schemes, Po is meddling with the currency of the United States. The number of people who’ve been injured because of his criminal enterprises probably can’t be overestimated. So while I'm sure Mr. Jessup was a close friend of yours, you need to take a step back and get some perspective. The target here is Po, not some Irish punk who likes to fight dogs and run whores in his spare time. I talked to your old boss Joe Cantor. He told me that you generally have a good sense of priorities, but that you’re an idealist. In these times, idealism is a luxury we can’t afford. Am I getting through to you?”

  “You’ve made your position clear.”

  “That'’s not what I'm asking.”

  “That'’s the only answer you’re going to get. I'’ll consider what you'’ve said, but you should be aware of this. My family has been threatened by your informant. I’'ve had to send my mother and daughter into hiding. Because of that, I’'ve taken certain steps. If I or my father die or disappear for any length of time, every detail of these matters will be made public in the most sensational way I could contrive.”

  This silences Hull for some seconds. “Mr. Cage, there’s no need for threats. We’re on the same side.”

  “That'’s the one thing I'm not clear on after this conversation, Mr. Hull. Good night.”

  “Wait! Please don'’t do anything rash. For your own sake. You have my phone number now, on your satellite phone.”

  “I don'’t need your number. You can tell your masters this. Besides being a citizen, I'm also a lawyer. And I don'’t cringe when I say that. I'm not a backroom, Washington Beltway, cuff-links-and-suspenders kind of lawyer—and by that I mean

  your

  kind of lawyer. I'm a trial lawyer. A former state prosecutor. And when somebody starts treating the laws of my state like their own personal toilet paper, I know how to tear them a new asshole. Am I getting through to you, sir?”

  “In graphic detail. Mr. Cage, you remind me of what I loved and hated about the South.”

  “I take that as a compliment.”

  “Take care of yourself. And please inform Daniel Kelly that he’s made himself subject to severe criminal penalties for misappropriating army property. He can be arrested at any time.”

  When I click END, I realize that my father has come outside as well. He and Caitlin are watching me with a mix of concern and awe.

  “I love you,” says Caitlin, hugging me tight. “You realize that, right?”

  “Jesus.”

  “That was freaking awesome.”

  “No, it was stupid. This isn’t a Frank Capra movie.”

  “Who were you talking to?” Kelly asks.

  “Claimed he was special counsel to the Department of Homeland Security. Name of Hull. Ever hear of him? William Hull.”

  “No. But it sounds like we’d better forget what we were talking about back in the house.”

  “Yeah. Killing federal informants is a bad idea.”

  “Sands is a government informant?” Dad asks.

  “He’s their leverage against Po. And they want Po for all sorts of major crimes. Human smuggling, prostitution, money laundering. All the stuff Walt talked about the other night. If my experience is any guide, Sands is probably part of a sting designed to lure Po onto U.S. soil. Then they can grab him, and Sands can testify against him.”

  Kelly sighs in disgust. “And then Sands walks? Is that the deal?”

  “I honestly don'’t know. But with a target that big, and in this paranoid security climate, it’s possible. They couldn'’t care less what crimes Sands is committing down here. For all we know, Sands could be doing that stuff specifically to lure Po here.”

  “That'’s just

  nuts,

  ” Caitlin sputters. “It’s fascism!”

  My father lays a hand on her shoulder. “It burns me up to think they’d write off what we’ve been going through, but the government makes those kinds of decisions all the time
. All governments do.”

  “But

  ours

  isn’t supposed to.”

  Kelly laughs cynically. “Caitlin, you sound like a schoolgirl, not a journalist.”

  “So, we’re just going to back off?” she says in disbelief. “That'’s what you’re all saying?”

  “You think we want to back off?” I ask incredulously. “We’re the ones who wanted to shoot the son of a bitch!”

  “There’s got to be a middle path,” she says doggedly.

  “Don’t go Buddhist on us,” Kelly says wearily, probing his wounded arm. “We’'ve got new information now. We’'ve got to pull back a little to reassess. I’'ve got four guys risking their careers to protect Annie and Peggy right now. That'’s asking a lot of men who don'’t even know them.”

  “Hull knows all about you,” I tell Kelly. “The Star Treks, everything. Blackhawk sold you out. Hull threatened you with arrest.”

  Kelly shrugs as if this were only to be expected. “You could still try to nail Sands on murder charges after the feds get custody of Po, right?”

  “Yes. They don'’t have the power to grant Sands immunity on state charges. Not unless they’ve suspended the Constitution.”

  Caitlin stares at me with narrowed eyes, then steps forward. “Don’t do this, Penn. You can’t cave in to bastards like Hull.”

  “I hate to say it, but I’'ve been in the same position he’s in. Not exactly the same, but similar ones. Justice is about compromise, Caitlin. Trade-offs.”

  “

  Justice?

  Don’t shit on that word by using it to describe what’s about to happen here.”

  I sigh heavily, then lift the satellite phone and call the lawyer back.

  Dad takes Caitlin’s arm. “Let’s just be thankful Jenny wasn'’t killed, and that none of us was either. We’'ve been lucky, considering what we’re mixed up in.”

  In her present mood, Caitlin would jerk her arm away from anyone else. But not my father. Instead, she leans into him and rests her head on his shoulder.

  “Hello, Mr. Cage,” Hull says in a smug voice. “Have you thought things over?”

  “Yes.”

  “I know emotions are probably running high down there. But with your legal background, I felt certain you’d see the logic of things.”

  “I have a precondition for backing off, Mr. Hull.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You call off the dogs, as of this moment. That means Sands, Quinn, and any goons who are watching us. Also any agency that’s eavesdropping, trying to find my kid, whatever. All that stops as of this moment. Is that understood?”

  There’s a brief silence. “I can’t speak to those specific concerns, but I feel sure you can stop worrying about your loved ones from this point forward. No one knows better than I that Sands can be difficult to deal with. Things probably got a little out of hand down there. I may be coming down myself soon, to help manage things.”

  “If you want your prosecution to succeed, please don'’t make me call you again.”

  “More threats?”

  “That'’s no threat. How would you like this story to go page one across the country? We can make that happen, if you push us.”

  This silences Hull longer than anything else.

  “Do we have an understanding?” I ask.

  “D’accord,”

  he says. “You go back to your lives, we’ll go back to making America safe. Good-bye.”

  I kill the connection. “God, what an arrogant bastard.”

  “Let’s go,” Caitlin says in a flat voice. “How are we getting back?”

  “You two ride in the helicopter with Danny and Carl,” Dad says. “Kelly and I will follow in the car. If that’s okay with you, Kelly. I’d like to keep an eye on that arm.”

  “Sure.”

  The subtext is clear: No one wants to be around Caitlin for the thirty minutes it will take to drive back to town. I’d just as soon ride in the car with Kelly and Dad, but that wouldn'’t go over well with the offended lady.

  “Let me get that dog’s head and lock the house,” Dad says, “and we’ll run you over to the chopper.”

  “It’s only a couple of hundred yards,” Caitlin says. “We’ll walk it. There’s no danger anymore, right?’

  Dad’s face darkens. “I'm not so sure—”

  “We’ll walk it,” I tell him, looking over at the running lights of the chopper on the far side of the lake road.

  Kelly squeezes my arm and says, “I'’ll see you back at the house.”

  “You sticking around town awhile?”

  He somehow manages a grin as my father walks back to the door. “I can’t afford to lose this gig. You’re my only employer now.”

  “Good, because I need you to bring Annie back from Texas. You’re definitely still on the payroll.”

  “Sounds like a pretty cushy job.” Kelly stops smiling and points past me. “You better look after her.”

  Caitlin has already started walking toward the helicopter. I don'’t hurry to catch up, but my longer stride brings us even soon enough. At first she says nothing. But when I don'’t speak, she says, “You know what’s funny about the way that just went down?”

  “What?”

  “Two minutes before that lawyer called, you were ready to wipe Jonathan Sands off the planet without even a warning. But the second some Beltway lawyer told you that Sands should go scot-free for God and country, you bent over and said, ‘Thank you, sir, may I have another.’”

  “Caitlin nothing I say is going to make you feel better.”

  “No, I want to hear your rationale. Is there something more than the ‘good German’ defense here?”

  “Yes, unpalatable though it may be. Edward Po represents a greater threat to a larger number of people than Sands. If the only way to nail Po is to let Sands walk, then that’s what the government will do. They’re choosing to stop the greater of two evils. If that sounds lame, let me tell you something. When I was an ADA, I once had to go down to the port and walk into a ship container that held twenty-seven bodies. They were Mexicans who’d died of dehydration. Five extended families, all dead. Men, women, children. Put Chinese faces on those bodies, and you get an idea of the kind of thing Edward Po is into for profit.”

  Caitlin is shaking her head in frustration. “But you’re just taking their word about Po. What do you really know about him?”

  “We got Po’s history from Blackhawk before they sold Kelly out. The bottom line is that however crazy Sands may be, he’s protected right now. That'’s a fact of life. And if he feels threatened, he won'’t hesitate to kill my father, my mother, my daughter, or even you. It would be insane to risk that.”

  “I told you not to use me to justify murder. Don’t use me to justify chickening out either. Aren’t you putting an awful lot of trust in a bureaucrat you'’ve never met, to keep Sands in line?”

  She’s right about that much,

  I think, as we cross the black strip of asphalt in the night. Carl’s probably watching us through his night scope from the helicopter and wondering why we’re risking this walk across open ground without Kelly.

  As we draw close enough to hear the slowly turning rotors whoosh through the air, she says, “I really feel down. I can’t explain it. It’s more than just what happened tonight.”

  “No, it’s not. After I told off Hull, you were flying high. Now, facing reality, you’re depressed. I know I’'ve disappointed you. But I have too much at stake to fight Hull and Sands. You want me to leave you out of my calculations? Okay. The bottom line is this. I have a child, you don'’t. That was a big part of my reasoning about executing Sands, as well. Until you have a child of your own, you can’t understand the absolute imperative you feel to protect that innocent life.”

  Caitlin stops short of the helicopter and looks up at me, her eyes bright and wet. “I

  want

  a child. I wanted one with you. I always have. That'’s why I’'ve been treading water for a year and half, even though I'm almost thirty-five. You think

  I

  can’t deal with reality? What about you and your fantasy of saving Natchez
?”

  I reach out to take her hand, but she slaps mine away. “You told me you ran for mayor to save your hometown. That'’s what you told yourself, your parents, Annie, and everyone else. Well, I wasn'’t sure it could be saved from the things you wanted to take on. Not by one person. But I know this: It damn sure needs saving now. And what are you doing? Folding your tent. Pissing on the fire and calling in the dogs, as they say down here.” She shakes her head and starts to turn away. “Honestly I don'’t think I’'ve ever been more shocked in my life. Or more wrong about someone.”

  At this point, a wise man would offer an apology and get into the helicopter. But something’s been nagging at me ever since the argument about killing Sands.

  “As long as we’re being honest,” I say to her back, “let me ask you one question. When you argued so passionately against killing Sands, was that really because you believe it would be morally wrong to do it?”

  “Of course!” she snaps, whirling on me. “What did you think?”

  “I wondered whether you might be arguing that way because, if we’d gone that route, you’d never have been able to write the story. Not as it really happened, anyway.”

  Caitlin has pale skin, but what little color she has drains from her face. “You son of a bitch.” She looks as if she’d like to gouge my eyes out, but instead she simply turns and climbs into the cabin of the helicopter.

  I look back at the road, where my father’s nine-year-old BMW is swinging onto the asphalt to head back toward Mississippi. No matter what I told Caitlin, there’s no escaping one unalterable reality: Despite my deal with the devil, Tim Jessup’s blood still cries out from the ground. And I am not deaf. Only one thought brings me solace now.

  My daughter is coming home.

  CHAPTER

  35

  Linda is sitting in the front pew of the church, near the wooden rail. Pastor Simpson sits facing her, his hands hanging between his knees. He looks like a laborer forced to put on a suit for a funeral, but when you feel his hands, you know he hasn’'t done real labor in years. He’s a talker, soft-spoken and sincere. He’s been talking to Linda about the totality of God, but she can’t keep her mind on the words. She’s burning up, her leg is throbbing, and her ride is late, hours late, picking her up.