“You agnostic bastard, you know I finally decided to – oh, shit!”
“Problem?”
“The Patterson Case. I had all the bullets in my briefcase, forgot to take them out. They’re gone. Duane, the bullets are gone! The examiner’s notes, the photos, everything!”
“The DA’s gonna love you, boy. You just put the Patterson boys back on the street.”
It was worth it, the police lieutenant didn’t say.
At his office four blocks away, Stuart took the call and breathed a sigh of relief. He ought to have been ashamed, of course, and knew it, but this time he just couldn’t bring himself to mourn for his clients. For the system that had failed them, yes, but not for their lives, which had manifestly benefited no one. Besides, he’d gotten his fee paid up-front, as any smart attorney did with druggies.
Fifteen minutes later, the U.S. Attorney had a statement out saying that he was outraged that federal prisoners had died in such a way, and that their deaths would be investigated by the appropriate federal authorities. He added that he’d hoped to arrange their deaths within the law, but death under law was a far different thing from death at the unknown hand of a murderer. All in all, it was an excellent statement which would make the noon and evening news broadcasts, which delighted Edward Davidoff even more than the deaths. Losing that case might have ended his chance for a Senate seat. Now people would say that justice had in fact been done, and they’d associate his statement and his face with it. It was almost as good as a conviction.
The Patterson’s lawyer was in the room, of course. They never spoke to a police officer without their attorney present – or so he thought, anyway.
“Hey,” Harvey said. “Nobody fuck with me, I don’t fuck with nobody. I heard a scuffle, like. That was it, man. You hear something like that in a place like this, smart move is you don’t even look, y’know. You be better off not knowin’.”
“It would appear that my clients have nothing to contribute to your investigation,” the lawyer told the detectives. “Is it possible that the two men killed each other?”
“We don’t know. We are just interviewing those who were present when it happened.”
“I understand, then, that you do not contemplate charging my clients with anything having to do with this regrettable incident?
“Not at this time, counselor,” the senior detective said.
“Very well, I want that on the record. Also, for the record, my clients have no knowledge that is pertinent to your investigation. Finally, and this too, is for the record, you will not question my clients except in my presence.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you. Now, if you will excuse me, I would like to confer with my clients in private.”
That conference lasted for about fifteen minutes, after which the attorney knew what had taken place. Which is to say he didn’t “know” in the metaphysical or legal sense, or in any way that had anything to do with legal ethics – but he knew. Under the Canons of Ethics, of course, he could not act on his speculation without betraying his oath as an officer of the court. And so he did what he could do. He filed a new discovery motion on his clients’ murder case. By the end of the day he would have added proof of what he did not know.
“Good morning, Judge,” Ryan said.
” ‘Morning, Jack. This’ll have to be fast. I’m going out of town in a few minutes.”
“Sir, if somebody asks me what the hell’s going on in Colombia, what do I tell ’em?”
“We have kept you out of this one, haven’t we?” Moore said.
“Yes, sir, you have.”
“I have orders to do that. You can guess where the orders come from. What I can tell you is, the Agency hasn’t blown anybody up, okay? We do have an op running down there, but we haven’t planted any car bombs.”
“That’s good to know, Judge. I really didn’t think that we were in the car-bomb business,” Ryan said as casually as he could. Oh, shit! The Judge, too? “So, if I get a call from The Hill, I tell them that, right?”
Moore smiled as he rose. “You’re going to have to get used to dealing with them, Jack. It’s not easy, and it’s often not fun, but I think you’ll find that they do business – better than Fowler and his people do, from what I heard this morning.”
“It could have gone better, sir,” Ryan admitted. “I understand the Admiral handled the last one. I suppose I ought to have spoken more with him before I flew out.”
“We don’t expect you to be perfect, Jack.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“And I have to catch a flight out to California.”
“Safe trip, Judge,” Ryan said as he walked out of the room. Jack entered his office and closed the door before he let his face slip out of neutral.
“Oh, my God,” he breathed to himself. If it had been a simple, straight lie from Judge Moore, it would have been easier to take. But it hadn’t been. The lie had been carefully crafted, and must have been planned, must have been rehearsed. We haven’t planted any car bombs.
No, you let the Navy drop them for you.
Okay, Jack. Now what the hell do you do?
He didn’t know, but he had all day to worry about it.
Whatever lingering doubts they might have had were eliminated by Monday’s dawn. The people who’d come into the hills hadn’t left. They had spent all night at a base camp of their own, just a few klicks to the south, and Chavez could hear them blundering around now. He’d even heard a single shot, but whatever it had been aimed at wasn’t a member of his squad. Maybe a deer, or whatever, maybe a guy slipped and let one go by mistake. It was ominous enough all by itself.
The squad was tucked into a tight defensive position. The cover and concealment were good, as were the fire lanes, but best of all their position was unobvious. They’d refilled their canteens on the way and were far from a water source; anyone hunting soldiers would look for the reverse. They’d also look for a spot on higher ground, but this one was almost as good. The uphill side was dense with trees and could not be approached quietly. The reverse slope was treacherous, and other paths to the overlook point could be seen from the squad’s position, allowing them to wait for their chance and move out of the way if necessary. Ramirez had a good eye for terrain. Their current mission was to avoid contact if possible; and if not, to sting and move. That also meant that Chavez and his comrades were no longer the only hunters in the woods. None of them would admit to being afraid, but the wariness factor had just doubled.
Chavez was outside the perimeter at a listening/observation post which gave him a good view of the most likely avenue of approach to the rest of the squad, and a covert path back to it, should he have to move. Guerra, the operations sergeant, was with him. Ramirez wanted both SAWs in close.
“Maybe they’ll just go away,” Ding thought aloud – in a whisper, really.
Guerra snorted. “I think maybe we yanked their tail one time too many, man. What we need right now’s a deep hole.”
“Sounds like they stopped off for lunch. Wonder how long?”
“Also sounds like they’re sweeping up and down like they think they’re a fucking broom. If I guess right, we’ll see them over on that point, then they’ll come down that little draw and head back up right in front of us.”
“You may be right, Paco.”
“We oughta be movin’.”
“Better to do it at night,” Ding replied. “Now we know what they’re doing, we can keep out of their way.”
“Maybe. Looks like rain, Ding. You suppose maybe they’ll go home ‘steada gettin’ wet like us fools?”
“We’ll know in an hour or two.”
“It’s going to blow visibility to shit, too.”
“Roger that.”
“There!” Guerra pointed.
“Got ’em.” Chavez put his glasses on the distant treeline. He saw two of them at once, joined by six more in less than a minute. Even from a few miles away it was obvious that they were huffing and puffing. One man stopped and took a drink from a bottle – beer? Ding wondered – right out in the open, standing up like he wanted to be a target. Who were these scum? They wore ordinary clothing with no thought of camouflage, but had web gear just like Chavez. The rifles were demonstrably AK-47s, mainly folding-stock.
“Six, this is Point, over.”
“Six here.”
“I got eight – no, ten people carrying AKs, half a klick east and downhill of the top of hill two-zero-one. They’re not doin’ much of anything at the moment, just standing there, over.”