by Stuart Woods
The bailiff called the case again, and the court stood for the entrance of the judge.
“Let’s get out of here, Holly,” Stone said.
“What have they done with him?” Holly asked when they were in the hallway.
“I don’t know, but we’d better find him before he leaves the jurisdiction,” Stone replied.
41
STONE AND HOLLY went out to the parking lot and looked for the car that had brought Trini to the courthouse. It was nowhere to be seen.
“Let’s go to Miller’s house,” Holly said. “Now that we have a valid warrant, we can get in.”
“Right,” Stone said. He retraced his route to Tano Road and turned down Tano Norte. “I can’t believe we’ve finally got a legal handle on this guy. You said you brought cuffs?”
“Two pair,” Holly said. “I’ll truss him up like a Thanksgiving turkey.”
They arrived at Miller’s house and found the gates still closed. Stone reached out the window and pressed the button on the intercom.
“Yes?” a woman’s voice responded.
“This is the police. Please open the gates.”
There was a buzzing noise, and the gates swung slowly open. Stone parked the car, and they walked to the front door and rang the bell. A moment later a Hispanic woman came to the door.
“Yes?”
“I have a warrant for the arrest of Trini Rodriguez,” Holly said.
“There’s nobody here,” the woman replied.
“How about the guest house?”
“No, I just cleaned it. The three men staying there went to the airport.”
“How long ago?” Holly asked.
“Maybe ten, fifteen minutes.”
“How do I get to the airport?”
“You go back to Tano Road, then turn right at the intersection, then right again on the four-lane highway. That takes you straight there.”
They ran for the car and sped back toward Tano Road, then found the divided highway. Stone was shortly doing a hundred miles an hour.
Holly sat grimly in the passenger seat, clutching her warrant. “I wish we had a siren,” she said.
“I don’t think this thing would go any faster if we had a siren.”
They followed the signs to the airport, left the car, and ran into the Santa Fe Jet Center, straight through the building and out onto the ramp. The jet they had followed from Teterboro was taxiing away, and Holly started to run after it.
“No, no!” Stone yelled after her, and she stopped. “He’s going to be doing twenty or thirty miles an hour on the ground.” He pointed at the tower. “That’s where we need to go.”
They ran the short distance to the main terminal building and up the stairway to the control tower. At the top they found a locked door and an intercom. Stone rang the bell.
“Yes?”
“This is the police. We have to stop an airplane from taking off.”
The door buzzed open, and the single occupant of the tower stood up. “Let’s see some ID,” he said.
Stone and Holly flashed their badges. “It’s the jet that’s taxiing now,” Stone said. He ran to the window and pointed. The jet was just taxiing onto the runway.
“I just got their IFR release and cleared them for takeoff.”
Stone grabbed a microphone and called the airplane.
“Yes, tower?”
“This is the police. We have a warrant for one of your passengers, Rodriguez. Enter a left downwind for two zero and return to the airport.”
“Stand by, Santa Fe.” There was half a minute’s silence, then the pilot came back. “Sorry, Santa Fe, the FBI has given me orders to continue my flight. Good day.”
“Shit!” Stone said.
“What can we do?” Holly asked.
The tower controller spoke up. “I can call Albuquerque Center on a land line. That’s their handoff controller.”
“It wouldn’t do any good,” Stone said. “They’d get the same answer we did.”
“So we’re screwed?” Holly asked.
“That’s about it,” Stone replied. “Thanks for your help,” Stone said to the controller.
“Don’t mention it.”
“Can you check their flight plan for their destination?”
The controller picked up a tape and consulted it. “Teterboro, New Jersey. Time en route is three hours and fifty minutes.”
“Thanks very much.”
They left the tower and walked back to the car. “So we go back to Teterboro?”
“Yes, but they’re going to be hours ahead of us. Our flight time back is going to be about seven hours, including a fuel stop.”
“So we’ve lost him again.”
“Maybe not completely.” Stone got out his cell phone and called Dino.
“Bacchetti.”
“Dino, it’s Stone.”
“You still in Santa Fe?”
“Yes, but we’ll be heading back today. I wanted to ask a favor.”
“So what else is new?”
“A jet just left Santa Fe with Trini Rodriguez aboard.” He gave Dino the tail number.
“You want me to shoot it down?”
“Not quite. It’s going to be landing in Teterboro in about three and a half hours, stopping at Millionaire. Can you get somebody to meet the jet and follow the occupants to wherever they’re going?”
“I certainly can’t send a cop to New Jersey to do that, but I guess I can do it myself.”
“I’m going to owe you for this one.”
“You sure are. The next four dinners at Elaine’s are yours.”
“Done. You can reach me on my cell phone.” He hung up and started the car. “Dino’s going to meet the flight and see where they take Trini.”
“That’s great news.”
“Let’s go back to Ed’s house and get our clothes, then we’ll follow.”
They drove back to Ed Eagle’s, went into the house, and started packing.
Holly lay down on the bed. “I’m exhausted,” she said. “Can we take a nap first?”
Stone lay down beside her. “So am I.”
They were still sound asleep when Ed Eagle walked in and woke them up. “How’d it go?”
“We both fell asleep,” Stone said.
“You’ve got altitude sickness,” Ed said. “Everybody feels lousy for the first twenty-four hours in Santa Fe. The city is at seven thousand feet of elevation, and my house is at a little over eight thousand. Come have some dinner.”
“We’ve got to get back,” Stone said, trying to clear his head.
“I’m not letting you fly out of here in your condition,” Ed said. “You wouldn’t get there until dawn, anyway.”
Stone’s cell phone vibrated. “Hello?”
“They’re on the ground,” Dino said. “I’m on it.”
42
THEY DEPARTED SANTA Fe Airport early the following morning, feeling better but still tired, having thanked Ed Eagle profusely for his help. They followed the same route back, but stopped at Terre Haute, Indiana, to refuel, and it was starting to get dark when they set down at Teterboro. A car service took them back to the city, and they met Dino at Elaine’s for dinner.
“So where did you follow them to?” Stone asked, when they had ordered a drink.
“To an apartment a couple of blocks from here, on Eighty-eighth Street.”
Holly groaned. “Not again. We’ve traveled, what, a couple of thousand miles, and we’re back where we started?”
“So, why don’t you go over there and get him?” Dino asked.
“We tried that before, and we were met by three or four FBI agents with drawn guns.”
“Oh, yeah, Lance mentioned that.”
“Stone,” Holly said, “why can’t we do in New York what we did in Santa Fe?”
“You mean go to a federal judge?”
“Yes. It worked once, didn’t it?”
“To tell you the truth, I was astonished that it worked.”
Dino spoke up. “You m
ean you got a federal judge to sign off on your warrant?”
“That’s right,” Stone said.
“I’m astonished, too.”
“I think what we would have to do is to force the FBI to show cause why they shouldn’t release him to you. Then there’d be a hearing, where the U.S. Attorney in New York or his staff would argue the motion, and they’d probably win. I think it would be a waste of your time and mine, and speaking of my time, I’ve got to go back to working for a living, instead of chasing Trini Rodriguez all over the country.”
“So you want me to go back to Orchid Beach with my tail between my legs?” Holly asked.
“I wasn’t suggesting a position for your tail, but I think you might have better luck with a federal judge in your own jurisdiction.”
“I think I like Lance’s suggestion better.”
“What, kill Trini?”
“I didn’t hear that,” Dino said.
“I’d love to, really I would,” Holly said brightly.
“Maybe Lance’s other suggestion would be more effective, without getting you put in jail.”
“The New York Times?”
“Right.”
“You said that could make trouble for me and my department.”
“And you said you were tired of it anyway. Want to go out in a burst of glory?”
“Or down in flames?”
“Same thing.”
Dino spoke up again. “Could I just remind you both that the last time you annoyed Trini there were very serious attempts on both your lives? Talk about going down in flames!”
“There is that,” Stone said. “They might get luckier next time.”
“The Times idea is looking pretty good right now.”
“Think about it,” Stone said. “Suppose you convince the Times, and they run a big story. Then you’ll have a media horde camped on your doorstep—rather, my doorstep—clamoring for interviews. America’s Most Wanted will be after you, as will every supermarket tabloid in the country. You think that will help?”
“I don’t know,” Holly said. “I’m so tired. I feel like I’m still in Santa Fe, with altitude sickness.”
“So am I,” Stone admitted. “Why don’t we think about this tomorrow?”
“Just like Scarlett O’Hara,” Holly said, downing her drink. “Let’s get out of here.”
Stone and Holly were sound asleep in his bed when there was a loud noise in the bedroom. Stone sat up. “What was that?”
A very bright light blinded him. “That was the sound of your body hitting the floor,” a man’s voice said.
“What’s going on?” Holly asked, sitting up and clutching the sheet to her breast.
“Now your little quest is at an end,” the voice said.
“It’s Trini,” Holly said to Stone.
“Swell.”
There was the sound of a semiautomatic pistol having its action worked.
“Could I just point out something?” Stone asked.
“Be quick. I want to kill you, then go to bed.”
“You haven’t committed a crime since you’ve been in the Witness Protection Program—at least not one they can hang on you.”
“They can’t hang this one on me, either,” the voice said.
“Oh, yes they can. The New York City Police Department knows about you, knows where you live. You kill us, and your federal protection will evaporate like the morning mist. You’ll be a fugitive from the Feds as well as the Florida authorities. Your picture will be all over television, all over those most-wanted shows, and there’ll be a big reward out for you. You’ll never have another day’s peace for the rest of your life.”
There was a long silence, then the voice spoke again. “This is your last warning. Next time, you both die, and you know I can do it.” Suddenly, the light went out, and footsteps could be heard on the stairs.
“Now’s my chance,” Holly said. “If I can kill him before he leaves the house, it’ll be a good shooting.”
Stone grabbed her wrist. “Hang on. You don’t know if he has somebody with him. They could be guarding the stairs until he’s out of the house, and you’re not going to have any night vision for a few minutes after having that light in your eyes. Let it go.”
Holly sat down on the bed. “You’re a pretty good lawyer,” she said. “You talked him out of killing us.”
“Next time, he’ll have an alibi, and he’ll kill us.”
“Next time, set the burglar alarm, will you?”
“Yeah, I did forget that.”
“You’re forgiven, since I’m still alive, but if you forget again, I’ll never forgive you.”
Stone got up and went to his safe.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m getting the Walther out of the safe. He could change his mind.”
“You think you could set the alarm now?”
And he did.
43
STONE WAS SCRAMBLING eggs when Holly came downstairs, wrapping a robe around her naked body.
“Good morning,” he said.
“No, it isn’t. That son of a bitch would have killed us last night if you hadn’t talked him out of it.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll do the alarm every night.”
Holly picked up a phone and dialed a number.
“Who are you calling?”
“A certain cell phone.” She waited, tapping her foot. “Grant? Listen to me: Your star witness got out of his cage last night, came into my bedroom with a gun, and threatened to kill me. I’m filing a formal complaint with the NYPD about this. . . . What?” She put her hand over the phone and turned to Stone. “Turn on the TV.”
Stone switched it on. “What are we looking for?”
“Try CNN.”
He switched to CNN. A reporter was standing in front of Trini’s apartment building on East Eighty-eighth Street. “So one FBI agent is dead and another wounded, apparently by a man being held as a material witness. We don’t have a photograph yet, but his name is Trini Rodriguez, also known as Robert Marshall. He is in his mid-thirties, six feet two inches tall, one hundred and eighty pounds, and of Latin and Italian extraction. We expect to have a photograph of him later this morning.”
“So,” Holly said into the phone, “you got one of your people killed and another hurt? . . . Of course you did it! You’re responsible!” She held the phone away from her. “He hung up.”
“So, Trini is on the streets?” Stone asked.
“Since early this morning,” Holly said. “Grant couldn’t tell me anything more than CNN did.”
“You and I go armed everywhere,” Stone said.
“Too right. Where do we start looking for him?”
“Let me call Dino.” Stone dialed Dino’s cell phone number. “I hear our boy is off his leash,” he said.
“And in a big way,” Dino replied. “We’re taking a backseat to the Feds on this, since killing an FBI agent is a federal crime.”
“So you’re not actively looking for him?”
“Oh, sure. We’ve sent a photograph to all precincts and issued an APB.”
“You have any clues to his whereabouts?”
“If I did, he’d be in a cell right now.”
“Will you keep me posted?”
“Sure, that’s my only job, isn’t it?”
“Thanks, Dino.” He hung up. “The NYPD is on it, but the Feds are taking the lead. He’ll turn up.”
“You don’t understand,” Holly said. “I want to turn him up. I want to find him before they do.”
“And how do you expect to do that?”
“Call your Mafia friend again. Ask him what he knows.”
“I’ll call him, but he won’t know anything. He can put the word out, and if anybody is sheltering him, he might call me.”
“Then we’ll know something the NYPD and the Feds won’t.”
“If we’re lucky.”
“It’s about time we got lucky.”
Stone couldn’t disagree with that
.
“Let’s go to Little Italy,” she said.
“After breakfast and a shower.”
Hungry and unshowered, Stone drove slowly up and down the narrow streets of Little Italy. He stopped the car in front of a deli. “Go in and get us a roll and coffee.”
“Keep driving,” she replied.
“This car isn’t moving until I’ve had breakfast.”
“Oh, all right,” she said, getting out and slamming the door. She came back shortly with a paper bag and two cups of coffee.
Stone dug in. “This is when it happens,” he said, looking around the street.
“When what happens?”
“When we see him. When I’m right in the middle of eating. Remember last time? I never got lunch.”
“Oh, stop your bitching,” she said, sipping her coffee. “We’ve got a real chance of catching this guy now.”
“I don’t think you want to catch him.”
“What?”
“You just want to go on hunting him. You enjoy it.”
“I do not.”
“Yes, you do. You’ve already admitted that you’re bored stiff in your job. You just want to get out of that little town in Florida and see some of the world, and Trini Rodriguez is your ticket.”
“That’s ridiculous,” she said, but less heatedly.
“If we catch the guy it’s going to be a real downer for you, assuming you survive the experience, which, if the events of last night are any indication, you may not.”
“Oh, I’m going to survive. Don’t you worry about that. Trini’s chances are not so hot, though.”
“Let me tell you what to hope for.”
“What?”
“Hope the NYPD catches the bastard, because they just might honor your warrant as a way of pissing off the FBI, which they love to do. Also, hope Trini doesn’t kill a cop in the process, because if that happens, they’ll never release him to you or the Feds.”
“I hope I see him on the street, so I can get just one clear shot at him.”
“Holly, this is not the O.K. Corral, and you are not Wyatt Earp. This is New York City; millions of people live here, and most of them are on the street every day.”
“Don’t you think I know that?”
Stone sighed. “I hope to God you do.”
