by Stuart Woods
“Freshen up. There’s a drink waiting for you, and dinner in a few minutes,” Ed said.
Stone splashed some water on his face and brushed his hair. “You ready?” he asked Holly.
“You go get us a drink. I’ll be along in a minute.”
Stone found Ed in the kitchen, where there were sizzling noises coming from a skillet.
“Booze is over there in that cabinet,” Ed said, pointing. “Help yourself.”
Stone found a selection of half a dozen bourbons and poured Holly and himself some Knob Creek.
“That lady of yours sounds hot for this guy,” Ed said.
“That’s putting it mildly. She’s going at him with reckless abandon. We had the guy nailed in New York last night, only to find a bunch of FBI agents guarding him.”
“How’d you find out he went to Santa Fe?”
“We followed them to Teterboro and a friend got a report on their flight plan. That’s when I called you.”
“Stone, I don’t know what your relationship is to this lady, but I can guess. Are you sure you’re not following your dick around?”
“No, I’m not sure,” Stone replied. “I keep asking myself that question, but I just got caught up in this business, and I’d like to help her see it through.”
“I’m happy to help you as much as I can, Stone, but see that I don’t get mixed up in a kidnapping.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep you out of it, Ed. How’s life these days?”
“Life is very good. I got married a few years back, but she’s at a spa in California this week, toning up and all that good stuff.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet her.”
“Another time.”
Holly joined them, and Stone handed her her drink. “Is there any way we can find out tonight who owns that house?” she asked. “That’s been worrying me.”
Ed picked up a phone and dialed a number. “Sharon? Ed Eagle. You remember the house you built out on Tano Norte? . . . That’s the one. Any idea who owns it now? . . . No kidding? Since when? . . . Just curious. Thanks very much.” He hung up. “That was the lady who was the contractor on the house. She says it’s owned now by Byron Miller.”
“Who’s he?” Holly asked.
“He’s the U.S. Attorney for our district, and I’d advise you not to try to take your man off his property. He could do bad things to you.”
“Swell,” Holly said, pulling on her bourbon.
39
ED EAGLE WAS waiting when Stone and Holly came into the kitchen for breakfast. “You’re on the move early,” Stone said.
“I’ve got a hearing at nine o’clock, and I didn’t have time to prepare fully for it yesterday,” Ed said. He spread a map over the kitchen table. “I want to show you exactly where the house on Tano Norte is,” he said, pointing. “You go back into Tesuque, then take the main highway south. There’s a lot of construction, and they’ve sealed off the old entrance to Tano Road, so you’ll have to go this route and turn right at the first exit.” He drew a line on the map with a Hi-Liter. “Tano Norte turns off Tano Road right here, and the house is another mile and a quarter down the road. You’ll be able to see the house from a hill right here, but when you get to the place you’ll just see a wall. My man is still out there, and I’m going to pull him off the surveillance this morning, unless you want to fork out three hundred bucks a day for his time.”
“Pull him off, and I’ll reimburse you for his time so far,” Holly said. “My department has discretionary funds for this sort of thing.”
“I’m just guessing, but I don’t think Byron Miller is going to host a felon for very long. Either he wants something from the guy, or the place he’s headed for isn’t quite ready yet, but I think they’re going to move him soon.”
“What sort of guy is Miller?” Stone asked.
“A hard-ass. None of the lawyers I know like him, and he enjoys his reputation for being tough. If you cross him, he’ll screw you first and ask questions later.” Ed handed them a card and some car keys. “Here’s my office number and the cell, too, and you can use the Jeep outside for as long as the wife is out of town, and she’s not due back until next week. There are some binoculars in the center console. Have you got a cell phone?”
Stone wrote down both their cell numbers.
“Okay, have a good time,” Ed said, and he was gone.
Stone and Holly followed Ed’s directions, and Stone stopped the Jeep Grand Cherokee at the top of a hill. “That’s the house out there,” he said, pointing to an adobe-colored lump on the land nearly a mile away. “Let’s get a closer look.” He drove slowly down the road, enjoying the view to the north, until they came to a long wall.
“The place looks like a monastery,” Holly said, pointing at the bell over the gate.
“We’d better turn around,” Stone said, pointing at a sign that told them the road was a dead end. “We can’t just camp out in front of the place.” He drove back to the hilltop where they could see the house. “Anybody who leaves is going to have to come this way. There’s no other road.” He turned off on a dirt track that ended in a clearing, then pointed the car toward the house. “Good view,” he said, rolling down the windows and taking the binoculars out of the center console.
“So we’re just going to sit here?” Holly asked.
“We can’t bust in there and take Trini,” Stone said. “You know whose house it is.” He trained the binoculars on the house. “Nobody’s moving.”
They sat for three hours, listening to a local radio station and watching the house. The day grew warm.
“This is really boring,” Holly said.
“Sounds like you’ve never done a lot of stakeout work,” Stone replied.
“No, I haven’t, and now I know why. I like to keep on the move.”
“Tell you what, why don’t you drive back to Tesuque and get us some sandwiches? I’ll stay here and keep an eye on the house.”
“What happens if Trini moves?”
“I’ll call you on your cell phone. You can head them off.”
“And leave you sitting here?”
“I’ll call Ed or a cab, if you have to follow somebody,” Stone said, getting out of the car.
Holly got into the driver’s seat. “What do you want?”
“A sandwich and a diet soda will do.”
“See you soon.” She started the car and turned back toward Tano Norte.
Stone settled himself under a piñon tree and took in the landscape. To the west a series of mountains rose, and from the map he figured out that was where Los Alamos was. The Rio Grande was supposed to be somewhere over there, but he couldn’t see it. He picked out various spots on the landscape with the binoculars, occasionally checking the house.
He began to get drowsy and stood up to get his circulation going. What the hell was he doing out here in the high desert, watching a house, hoping Trini would move? He should be in New York, getting some work done, making some money, instead of letting this girl drag him all over the country.
Holly returned with their sandwiches, and they had just begun to eat when there was movement at the house.
“Some people down there,” she said, grabbing the binoculars.
Four or five people had materialized from somewhere and were standing around a car, talking.
“Is one of them Trini?” Stone asked.
“I think so. It’s hard to tell.”
The people continued to talk, then they got into two cars and left the house, driving up the road toward them.
“They’re moving,” Holly said.
Stone started the car and drove the few yards back to Tano Norte. “Let’s get a look in those cars.” He turned into the road, then pulled over to one side and got out the map. “I’m going to pretend to be looking at this. You watch the car as it passes and see if he’s inside.”
“Okay.”
Stone played the studious tourist, and a minute later the two cars overtook and passed him.
“Second car,” Holly said. “Trini’s in the backseat. Let’s go!”
“Wait a minute. Let’s not follow too closely.” He gave the car a good head start, then got moving. As they reached the paved part of the road he pointed into the distance. “There it is.”
“Don’t lose it,” Holly said.
Stone increased his speed to keep the car in sight. He followed it back onto the main highway, and they headed into the town. He followed the car until it turned into the parking lot of a large building only a short distance into town. He pointed at a sign. “It’s the federal courthouse,” he said. “They must be taking him to the U.S. Attorney’s office.”
“Or Trini is testifying in a case.” Holly opened the door.
“Where are you going?” Stone asked.
“I’m going to follow them,” she said. “You park the car.”
“How will I know where you’re going?”
“If Trini is testifying, they’ll be going to a courtroom, won’t they?”
“I can’t argue with that.” Stone found a parking place and followed her into the courthouse.
40
STONE STOPPED AT the desk before the metal detector and showed his Orchid Beach badge. “I’m armed,” he said.
“Sorry, Lieutenant,” the guard said, “only federal officers can carry inside the courthouse. You’ll have to check your weapon.” Stone gave the man his Walther and got a receipt, then he walked through the metal detector and into a hallway.
His cell phone vibrated. “Hello?”
“It’s Dino. Elaine’s tonight?”
“Sorry, it’s too long a drive.”
“What?”
“I’m in Santa Fe, New Mexico.”
“What the fuck are you doing way the hell out there?”
“I’m with Holly. It’s the Trini thing; we followed him out here.”
“You’ve gone out of your fucking mind,” Dino said pleasantly. “I mean, I can see fooling around with this thing to get the girl in the sack, but . . .”
“Dino, this has nothing to do with sex.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Well, not much. I share her outrage that the Feds would let this guy take a walk, that’s all, and it worries me that she’s doing this alone.”
“Well, you’re going to worry yourself right into a federal prison, if you’re not careful. Lance told me about your attempt to bust this guy. You’ve been warned off. Why are you still in this?”
“To tell you the truth, I’m getting near the end of my rope. I’m ready to come back to New York.”
“Call me when you get in. We’ll have dinner, and I’ll straighten you out.” Dino hung up.
Stone put the phone away and looked up and down the hallway. No sign of Holly. He found a courtroom and peeked inside. It was half full of people, but there was no judge on the bench, yet. Holly was sitting in the back row of seats. He went in and joined her.
“What’s happening?”
“Trini and two FBI agents are sitting in the first row, behind the prosecutor’s table,” she said, nodding. “The guy at the table must be Byron Miller.”
Stone looked at the two men sitting at the table, their backs to him. “If the U.S. Attorney himself is trying a case, then it has to be an important one.”
A bailiff stood up and shouted the name of a judge, and the crowd stood until he was seated.
“Mr. Miller, call your next witness,” the judge said.
Miller stood up and called Trini, then waited while he was sworn and sat down. “Mr. Rodriguez,” he said, “were you, until recently, a member of organized crime?”
“Yes,” Trini replied. “Until late last year I worked for a family in Florida.”
“By ‘family’ do you mean a Mafia family?”
“Yes.”
“What were your duties?”
“I arranged loans for applicants and took care of collections.”
“Loans from the Mafia family?”
“Yes.”
“Were these loans made to people who could not obtain them from conventional banks?”
“Yes.”
“Were these loans made at very high interest rates?”
“Yes.”
“Was this, in fact, an illegal loan sharking company?”
“Yes, it was.”
“Did you attend a meeting of organized crime figures on June tenth of last year in Miami, Florida?”
“Yes, I did,” Trini said.
“What was the purpose of the meeting?”
“Some people from New Mexico wanted to get financing for a new racetrack.”
“Was anyone in this courtroom besides yourself present at this meeting?”
“Yes.”
“Could you point out these people?”
Trini pointed at the defense table. “Those two gentlemen right there.”
“Let the record show that Mr. Rodriguez is pointing to the two defendants, Roberto and Chico Rivera.” Miller turned back to Trini. “Did the organization you worked for make a loan to the Rivera brothers?”
“Yes, we did.”
“In what amount?”
“Two million dollars.”
“And what were the funds intended for?”
“To bribe public officials in New Mexico to pave the way for their getting a license to build the racetrack.”
“Did you ever learn if they were successful in bribing public officials in New Mexico?”
“Yes. We learned that they had been successful.”
“Thank you, Mr. Rodriguez.” He turned to the defense table. “Your witness.”
The defense attorney stood up and began to bombard Trini with questions.
Holly leaned over to Stone and whispered, “How long do you think this is going to go on?”
“My guess would be not long. Let’s go outside.”
They got up and went out into the hallway.
“We could take him when he leaves the courthouse,” Holly said.
“Not on federal property,” Stone replied. “Your warrant has no force here, unless you get a federal judge to sign off on it.”
“Then I’ll go to the judge in this case where he’s just testified,” Holly said.
Stone shrugged. “You can try.”
They went back into the courtroom.
“Thank you, Mr. Rodriguez,” the judge said. “We’ll take a fifteen-minute recess before continuing with the next witness.” He stood up and left the courtroom.
“Let’s go,” Holly said. She approached the bailiff and flashed her badge. “I’d like to see the judge, please.”
“On what business?”
Holly produced her paperwork. “I have a fugitive warrant for a witness in this case.”
“Just a minute.” The bailiff took the warrant and disappeared through a door. Five minutes passed, then the bailiff came back, approached the prosecutor’s table, and spoke with Byron Miller, who rose and followed him toward the judge’s chambers. The bailiff beckoned Holly and Stone to follow.
The judge was sitting at his desk eating a sandwich, his robe thrown over a chair. “You’re Chief Barker?” he said to Holly.
“Yes, Your Honor, and this is my associate, Stone Barrington.”
“This is the United States Attorney, Mr. Byron Miller,” the judge said, nodding toward Miller. “Everybody sit down.”
They sat.
“Mr. Miller, this police officer has presented me with what seems to be a properly executed fugitive warrant for your witness, Mr. Rodriguez, on charges of murder.”
“That’s twelve murders, Judge,” Holly said.
“Are you all done with Mr. Rodriguez?” the judge asked Miller.
“Yes, Judge,” Miller said, “but Mr. Rodriguez has been certified by the attorney general for the Witness Protection Program. He has recently played an important role in breaking up a terrorist ring in New York, and the FBI have informed me that he will be testifying in other trials to come. It’s important
that he remain in federal custody until the government is done with him.”
Stone spoke up. “Your Honor, the fact that Mr. Rodriguez has been placed in the Witness Protection Program indicates that, even when the government is done with him, they have no intention of returning him to the Florida jurisdiction for trial on these murder charges. They’re going to let him walk.”
“Is that the case, Mr. Miller?” the judge asked.
“I can’t speak for the attorney general in this matter, Judge.”
“Well, you’ve been speaking for him up until now. Why are you getting so shy all of a sudden?”
“Your Honor, I can only tell you that this witness is crucial to more than one case against defendants who are far worse than he is, and that he needs to be kept in federal custody until he has finished testifying.”
“And how long do you anticipate that will be?”
“I can’t say, Your Honor, since the cases are spread over more than just this jurisdiction.”
The judge flipped through the warrant again. “Well,” he said, “I don’t like the sound of this at all. These are heinous crimes, and the government ought not to be able to ignore them and give this witness protection from being brought to justice. I’m going to authorize Chief Barker to serve her warrant, take Mr. Rodriguez into custody, and return him to her jurisdiction for trial. If the government wants him to testify in further trials, they can apply to the judge in the state case for temporary custody.”
“Thank you, Judge,” Holly said, beaming at him.
“Of course, your order will apply only to this jurisdiction, Your Honor,” Miller said smoothly.
“Yes,” the judge replied. He stamped Holly’s warrant and signed it. “All right, let’s get my court back into session and continue with our trial.”
Everybody stood up and left the chamber.
Holly walked over to the prosecution table, where Byron Miller was talking on his cell phone. “Mr. Miller, where is Rodriguez now?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know,” Miller said.
“He’s staying at your house. Can I find him there?”
“I’m on the phone here,” Miller replied. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”
