Wood's Wall (24 page)

They sat back in silence, watching the mangroves lining the channels slide by. Soon the tops of sailboat masts were visible. It took another five minutes running at idle in the protected harbor before Heather yelled up that she had a signal. 

She brought the laptop to the console to show him. “It’s here on the island. Give me a minute and I’ll transpose the coordinates onto a map.” He watched from the corner of his eye as she manipulated screens. “You’re not going to believe this. It’s at the police station.”

“Led by the King of the Idiots, how else was this going to go?”

“It’s not all bad. They call me down there from time to time. I can walk in there and probably get it back for you.”

“Thanks, but that doesn’t help. We need them to take it to the exchange so we can follow.”

“Let me go in and see what’s going on, anyway. It wouldn’t hurt to have some more information.”

“As long as you keep this between us. All I want is to get the girls back.”

“Yeah, me too. I’m with you.”

“There’s a dock over there. Bound to be a bicycle that’s unlocked. Can you find the station from there?”

“Like a rooster can find a hen house. Probably take me an hour to get there, see what’s going on and get back here.”

“Take the number off this burner phone. Call me when you’re ten minutes out and I’ll come get you.”

***

Patel stood on the balcony of Ibrahim’s house, his clothes clinging to his body as he dialed the phone. He would have preferred the AC of the room, but was always cautious about bugs and chose the humidity instead. Davies was not picking up, though and he was getting impatient. Ibrahim was waiting downstairs.

He put the phone in his pocket and went back inside, wondering where Davies was. He needed confirmation the President would be here. Ibrahim was in the kitchen when he entered, “Have you heard from the drug dealer?”

“Not yet.” Ibrahim sat at the table staring at the cell phone, willing it to ring. 

“Go there. I don’t trust him.”

Ibrahim got up slowly, clearly in pain. He turned away from Patel, reached in his pocket for the bottle and took three pills. Before he left, he stopped at a desk and unclipped a gun from a hidden holster. “I’ll keep you updated.”

The phone rang as Ibrahim was on his way out the door and Patel looked down at the screen for the caller ID. But the burner phone was an old-style flip phone. He picked it up and flipped it open. “Yes?”

“Garcia called. Seems Travis is missing, maybe dead. He’s at the Key West police station. He told me there is a BOLO out for him.” He paused, “There’s something else going on, though. It seems that a cohort of his has his cell phone. He’s being held at the police station in Key West.” Davies said.

“That is all you have?”

“What else do you want from me? I set up the meeting. I had my man track Travis.” Davies said.

“I want you to call your man and find out what he knows about this man they have in custody. He could have something important.” Patel didn’t like all the moving parts going on here.

“What is this about? So I took some diamonds from a friend of yours as a payment for a very discreet favor, years ago. That doesn’t mean I do everything you say. There’s something wrong here, and I intend to find out what it is.”

“I would recommend you think carefully about how you proceed. It may have been a long time ago, but I don’t think your associates will be as forgiving as you think.”

Several seconds of silence followed. “All right. I’ll find out what you want. Then we’re done.”

“As long as the president shows up for his speech, I will release you.”

***

Davies hung up and took a deep breath. The doctors had told him to avoid stress, alcohol, and everything else life had to offer. Well, he had the stress, screw it, throw in some alcohol too. He went to the decanter and poured an inch into the tumbler. He paused and added another. 

Then he dialed again. “Can you go someplace we can talk?”

“Go ahead.” Garcia answered a minute later.

Davies paused, trying to figure out what Patel’s angle in this was. “Is there one that could be the leader?”

“There’s this Cajun guy, named Alan Trufante. He’s in an interview room now.”

“Can you get him released and keep an eye on him? I’ve got it on good authority that there’s something bigger than the coke deal going on here.”

“I’m not sure I can do that. I don’t have jurisdiction here.” He thought for a minute. “There is a way that might work. I can name him as a confidential informant who will only talk to me. I can probably just walk him out of here. There’s so much confusion about the explosion that they won’t really check. The thing is, I can’t let him just go loose. If you want to find out what’s going on I can put a wire on him. Let him go do whatever deal he has planned.” 

“That’ll work.” Davies drank half the tumbler. He sat back down and pulled a legal pad from his drawer. It took a while, but he laid out the entire history of what had happened since he had met Patel. He listed all the favors he’d been asked to do over the years, and placed them in a timeline. He went to his computer and pulled up a chronological sequence of terrorist activity since 1992, when he’d taken the diamonds. He was angered, but not surprised to see the connection.

41

Heather keyed the code in the pad by the back door of the police station. The lock buzzed, allowing her to turn the knob. The scene unfolded as she slid through the room, looking for someone she knew who wasn’t already occupied. Every seat was taken, every phone in use, and those not on a land line had their cell phones to their ears. She glanced in each interrogation room as she walked down the hall toward the restroom. Trufante caught her eye as she passed the room he was waiting in. Forgetting the bathroom, she entered the room.

“What are you doing here?” She asked.

“Seems trouble has a way of finding me.” He leaned back in the chair.

“We already established that phenomena.” She sat in the chair across the table. “What did you do now?” 

Before he could answer, a man entered the room, papers and a pen in hand. He looked at Heather, then shifted his attention to Trufante and placed the papers in front of him. “Sign where it says. I got a doctor to see you, and we can get on with this.”

“Get on with what?” Heather asked.

“And you are?” The man asked. “I’m Garcia, FBI.” 

She looked at Trufante. “Don’t sign that.” Then she turned to Garcia. “I’m with the CSI here. I know this man. He’s a witness in a murder in Marathon. I need to take him back there,” she bluffed.

“Are you charging him?” Garcia asked.

She paused, “No. But the sheriff …”

He cut her off. “The sheriff nothing. He has agreed to be a confidential informant with us. Your sheriff has a problem with that have him call me.”

“Her. She’s not going to like this.”

He waved her off.

She stepped to the back wall of the room and watched as he explained the paperwork to Trufante. He seemed oblivious. 

Trufante finished his signature and handed the papers to Garcia. “Sorry, girl. He promised to get me some pain pills.”

She took a step toward the table figuring she might as well get as much information as she could. “What are you doing with him?”

“He’s a CI.” Gracia gave her a quick overview of the situation. “I’m gonna wire him up and let him make his deal. You said you’re CSI, maybe you can help me.”

“So, now you want my help. What’s in it for me?”

“You can keep an eye on your friend here.” 

“I’ll help you as long as you keep me in the loop.” She needed to keep whatever little leverage she had.

“OK, so we need to wire him up. You have access to the equipment here - let’s see what you can put together. I need to hear and record everything from 100 yards.” Garcia said.

Heather left the room. She went toward the equipment room where the gear was stored, and selected what she needed. Thinking about Mac, she moved to the back of the storage area and pulled out her cell phone. Not sure if the burner phone could text, she called him, watching the door so as not to be overheard.

“You ready?”

“No, something’s come up. They’ve got Trufante here, and I just cut a deal with an FBI agent to wire him up and follow.”

“Can you let me know where you’re going?”

“Can I text you on that thing?”

“I think so.”

“I’ll send you the address as soon as we set up. That’s the best I can do.”

“That’ll work fine,” he said.

She disconnected and went back to the interrogation room. 

Trufante squirmed as she applied the tape that held the mike and wires to his body. “Drop your pants.”

“Thought you didn’t swing that way.”

She shot him a look and waited. “Here, tape this to yourself. Right below your unit, inside your leg. Even a girl wouldn’t frisk you there.”

“You’d be surprised.” 

“Pull that earring out.” She handed him another.

“What you got here?” Garcia asked.

“Camera. It doesn’t have much for range, but it can’t hurt. He’ll never suspect it.”

She turned to Garcia and nodded. “Ready.”

They left the interview room and went single file toward the entrance. Garcia had the papers in hand, ready to present them to anyone questioning what he was doing removing a prisoner from custody. Heather caught a couple of looks on the way out and nodded back, but no one questioned them.

“Where’s the meet?” Garcia asked Trufante as they found his rental car. 

“Don’t know the address, but I can get us there. What about that doctor?”

“Just get through this and I’ll set you up. I can’t have you going in there under the influence.”

“Damn man, I work better under the influence.”

***

Cesar paced the ground floor of the house like a caged animal. He was wearing a groove in the old pine floor, going from window to window. He checked his watch again, then went to the kitchen to check on the girls. Jose had arrived at dawn with them. 

They were late for the exchange, and Trufante’s number went straight to voicemail. Again. As vigilant as he had been, the knock on the door startled him. He went to the wall and slid toward the closest window. His paranoia settled, although his anger red lined as he opened the door for Ibrahim. 

“Use the back door. I don’t need anyone seeing you come in here.”

“Where are they?”

“Fuck if I know. They should have been here an hour ago.” 

“This had better happen, or the repercussions will be severe.”

Cesar glared at him. The only good outcome in his mind was to put a bullet in the terrorist’s head. Maybe he’d shoot him in the ear, see if sand came out the other end. Despite Diego’s call, he moved toward the chair where his gun was hidden. He stopped short as he saw Trufante start up the walk outside. 

“Go hide. He’s here,” Cesar called out to Ibrahim, who took off into the kitchen. Trufante lost his balance as he knocked on air, Cesar having already opened the door. “Get your Cajun ass in here. I’ve been waiting, and that’s not good for your health. You got the stuff?”

Trufante slid the backpack off his shoulder.

“Not there you idiot. In the house, away from the windows.”

Trufante went to the stairs giving Cesar a questioning look. “Where are the girls? I’m not giving this over until I know they’re safe.”

Cesar went toward the kitchen and opened the door. “Tell him you’re OK.”

Trufante relaxed as he heard both girls’ voices. He reached into the pack for a lead ball. “Here. Now, let them go.”

“Not so fast, Cajun. You set me up last time. You think I’ll allow that to happen again?” Cesar called out to the kitchen, and Ibrahim emerged through the door. He handed him the backpack and watched as he left the house hoping this would end their relationship. 

“What now?” Trufante asked. “You got something for this?” He held up his finger. “Son of a bitch - hurts!”

Cesar ignored the request. “Now we wait for him to call and assure me that there has been no switch. Why don’t you sit down? I have a proposition for you. Maybe a good opportunity.”

Trufante sat on the stair. “You need me for something, I need something from you.” He held up his bandaged stump. “This son of a bitch is throbbing like a gator in a net.”

***

They sat in the SUV. The motor was running allowing the AC to keep the heat at bay. Heather fiddled with the controls. She was happy with the performance of the gear; they were able to see and hear everything going on inside the house.

“One’s leaving. We have to split up. I’m going after him,” Garcia said as he opened the door. “Keep an eye on our boy here.”

“How do I reach you?” Heather asked. 

Garcia pulled a card from his pocket and tossed it on the seat before he slammed the door and took off. Heather sat there, alone. She was relieved that Jules was safe, having clearly heard Jules and Mel respond on the surveillance equipment, but unsure how to proceed. Then her cell phone buzzed on her lap, bringing her back to reality.