GOTU - A Robin Marlette Novel (16 page)

“Hola.”

“Juan, it is Carlos.”

“Ahh, good. How are you?”

“I am fine, Juan. How is Maria?”

“She is fine, Carlos. Do not worry. Miguel is not as set on killing you as before, but it is still not time for you to come back. I told Miguel I have you doing other things across the border.”

“Juan, I
can
do other things for you.”

“You are going to. I want you to contact Newman. I want you to be security for the money. He has it. Do you still have his number?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Call Newman at four o'clock this afternoon. He is expecting your call.”

“I will take care of it, Juan.”

“I know you will, Carlos. Adios.”

“Adios, Juan.”

Robin got up to leave. He reached in his briefcase and then handed Carlos a small paperback copy of the United States Constitution. He shook hands with Carlos and said, “We're much alike, Carlos. We fight hard for principles we believe in. Read the United States Constitution again--the whole thing, including the Declaration of Independence. Then think about where your soul would be most comfortable. I believe I know the answer, but it is your soul and your search. Good luck, my friend. I'll be in touch.”

“Thank you, Robin.”

When Robin left, Carlos said to Chris, “He is a good man.”

“Some people hate him, some love him, but he's one of the best in my book.”

The wire progressed into the second week. This early morning Robin and the administrative team sat down for a daily review in the small conference room at the off-site.

Robin leaned forward in his chair. “I don't know about you guys, but it seems like the days are flashing by.”

“Well, that's what happens when you put in twelve, sixteen, and sometimes eighteen hour days,” John Lucheck answered. “You've taken one day off since the taps went up. You need to slow down, Rob.”

“These taps have proven to be more successful than I ever dreamed. We are finally hitting the corrupt government officials and businessmen who make drug trafficking possible. We've been working very long hours, and it won't let up until we are done. Our commanders have stuck their collective necks out for us, and we're not going to let them down. I appreciate your concern for me, and I appreciate the hard work you have been doing,” Robin said.

Lucheck looked down at the table. “I didn't mean to upset you, Rob.”

“You didn't, John. I'm just telling you how it is. Now, what did Walton do yesterday?”

Lucheck smiled at Robin. “Walton's been busy contacting those who get payoffs and arranging deliveries. We all know he has contacted law enforcement officials at every level--a prosecutor, local politicians, local and state administrative officials, state legislators, five members of congress, and two senators--but we really hit pay dirt yesterday evening. He contacted Robert Mickerson, the President's Chief of Staff.”

Robin gave Lucheck a hard look. “Any indication the President is involved?”

“Not so far, Rob.”

“Did we get any incriminating statements?”

“Definitely. They talked about payoffs for information about FBI and DEA investigations Mickerson gave in the past. He wants a raise.”

Robin could feel his jaw tighten. He knew Mickerson's actions in the past had most likely caused the deaths of informants and maybe even law enforcement officers. Although impossible, Robin wanted to be there for the arrest of the son of a bitch. “Go on.”

“The progress of the case has built enough evidence to finish Walton and send him to prison for the rest of his life. He speaks very carefully on the telephone when arranging the payoffs. He uses a well-entrenched code. His main downfall is that Eric Newman and Carlos Casconda were making the deliveries. They are both wearing Nagra recorders during the deliveries, and code isn't used during those discussions. We also have a lot good surveillance photographs and videotapes of many of the meetings. Walton is in regular contact with Miguel Rodriquez-Lara. While they are both careful about what they say, the code is not sophisticated and we've been able to interpret the conversation.”

“What is the surveillance on Walton telling us, Ernie?”

“Walton's most confidential communications with Rodriquez are through meetings Walton has with a man identified as Juan Trinidad-Nunez. The teams assigned to conduct the surveillance on these meetings report that Trinidad is very observant and has his head on a constant swivel. Surveillance is difficult for any length of time. Moving surveillance is virtually impossible without an aircraft, and even that's difficult.”

“Do we have any idea at all what they talk about?”

“The surveillance teams reported that on the last two of these meetings, the two men seemed agitated with each other, but we don't know why.”

“Damn, I wish we could get a tap on Rodriquez's phone!”

“Why don't we?” Angie asked.

“There's no way we could get a court order in Mexico, let alone keep it secret.” Robin took a deep breath. “Angie, how are we doing on the follow-up taps?”

“We now have seven more wiretaps in five states and Washington D.C. because of the activity on Walton's phones. We have the evidence for more taps, but there's just not enough people or money to do them.”

“What are the other agencies reporting as far as evidence from the current taps?”

“Same as ours, Rob. A lot of government officials and businessmen, particularly bankers, are going down.”

“Does that go for the taps DEA is running for us?”

“Yes it does, Rob.”

Robin leaned back in his chair and smiled at Angie. “Well, Angie, it looks like DEA and I have finally been able to work together. I credit you with helping out on that score.” Angie smiled but did not reply.

“Okay, folks, thanks for the update. Let's get back to doing something productive.”

Angie hung back as the others left the conference room. “Rob, I really haven't been able to thank you for going to bat for me with DEA.”

“Hell, Angie, it's stupid of them to want to replace you just because the case got so large that we needed get them fully involved. They were just trying to put their favorite boys in. Besides, I really didn't do it. They would never listen to me about something like that. Jim Adams held them off.”

“You led the fight, Rob.”

“Look, Angie, you've done an outstanding job these last couple of weeks. You jumped right in to replace Chris in the admin function when he got tied up with Carlos on counterintelligence leads. You carry your load without bitching, and don't hesitate to help the other guys out. That's why I fought to keep you.”

“Thanks, Rob. I've learned so much from working with you and your team. I appreciate everything.”

“We appreciate you, Angie.” Angie waved and left.

The next morning Robin sat at his desk, after hanging up from one of his endless phone calls, Robin leaning on his elbows and rubbing his temples. Emmett's deep voice interrupted him from the doorway.

“You okay, Boss?”

Robin lifted his head. “Yeah, Emmett, I'm fine.”

Emmett came in and dropped his large frame into the chair next to Robin's desk. “Rob, do you know from five in the morning to noon, I counted that you handled one hundred and thirty-seven calls? I can't even begin to count how many people you talked to or how many questions you answered. I don't know how you can switch gears so fast and keep so much in your head. I swear we are going to have to start following you and pick up the information falling out of your ears.”

“I'm dictating. I've got it covered.”

Emmett leaned towards Robin. “Rob, you're doing too much. You need to give more admin stuff to John and Angie.”

Robin took a deep breath. “Maybe you're right. I will try to do that.”

“Promise me, boss, or I may have to get violent.”

“Okay, okay, I promise.”

“All right, see you later.”

“Thanks.”

Robin got home at midnight to a dark and quiet house. He felt lonely and guilty. His stomach growled, but he didn't have the energy to do anything about it. As he walked back to the bedroom, he stopped to look in at each of his children. When he got to his room, he dropped is clothes and put his pistol up in the closet. Putting on his sleeping shorts, he laid his exhausted body down and snuggled up to Karen. She was awake, as usual, and put her hand into his. He fell asleep.

Robin opened his eyes to see Eddie's eyes looking intently at him. Robin sighed, as this happened almost every night. Robin put his arm around Eddie's waist and pulled him into bed between him and Karen. Robin's heart ached.

EIGHTEEN

At eight the next evening, Robin had just finished a federal wiretap affidavit to convert a state order in Texas into a federal order. He needed to get a federal agent to co-sign the affidavit application and deliver it to FBI and DEA headquarters first thing the next morning. It needed to go through the federal administrative approval process before being submitted to a federal judge. Chris was in D.C. again, so Robin called Angie at home, since she had assumed Chris' admin duties and since DEA was jointly running the tap with Texas DPS.

“Hello,” Angie answered the phone in a soft, melancholy voice.

“Hey, Angie. It's Rob.”

“Oh hi, Rob!” Angie's voice brightened.

“Hey, I finished this affidavit application. All it needs now is your signature.”

“Oh, okay, I'll come over to the wire room.”

“No, you don't have to do that. Just tell me where your new apartment is and I will bring it over.”

“Oh…oh…I, well, okay.” Angie seemed frazzled.

“Angie, are you all right?”

“Yes, yes. I'm okay, Rob. Just come over. Do you know the apartments south of the FBI office?”

“The ones where one of the FBI's safe houses is?”

“Yes, that's it. Chris found this place for me. I am in number 212.”

“I'll be there in about fifteen minutes.”

“Okay, bye.”

Robin gathered his papers and put them in his briefcase. He said goodbye to the night listening teams and walked out into the warm Phoenix air. The summer sun, in its last stages, mercifully started to allow the earth to cool. Another glowing orange Arizona sunset grew against the dark blue, cloudless sky.

Robin scanned the area as he walked towards his van. He looked for anything out of the ordinary. He climbed into the van, started the engine, and put the air conditioner on full-blast. The van now sounded like a wind tunnel. He turned up his police radio.

As he drove he thought about his conservation with Angie. Over the last week, they had worked closely together. Robin liked Angie, and he found it kind of nice to work with an attractive woman, but Angie guarded her private life. Robin knew virtually nothing about her outside of their common work. Even though she seemed to be comfortable around everyone, she still had those sad eyes.

Robin steered his van through traffic. He regularly checked his rear view mirrors and the cars around him at stoplights. He drove past the FBI office and turned right on the next street, then turning left into the parking lot of the apartment complex. Robin could see Angie looking through the security eyehole in the door. When she opened the door, Robin walked in, stunned by an almost bare two-room apartment. Personal items were strewn around the floor. A card table and a lone chair stood in one corner, near the kitchenette. An empty McDonald's bag was crumpled on the table. A small T.V. sat in the opposite corner. The door to the bedroom was closed.

“Please, sit down, Robin.” Angie pointed to the chair.

Robin opened his briefcase and handed the affidavit application to Angie. “You're going to need the chair to read this.”

Angie promptly dropped to a sitting position on the floor. “I prefer the floor. Sit in the chair.” Robin could tell she was trying to sound authoritative. Robin mentally shrugged as he pulled the chair out and sat down. He looked at Angie, who was reading the affidavit. He noticed her shoulders were shaking and her hands were trembling. She was crying.

“Angie” Robin stopped midsentence. He didn't know what to say. Angie put the papers aside, put her hands to her face, and silently cried. Robin knelt down beside her and touched her shoulder. She put her arms around his neck and clung tightly to him, burying her face in his chest. Robin put his arms around her and gently held her, letting her cry.

After a short while, Angie seemed to calm down.

Robin lifted her face. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She got up and went into the bedroom and came out with a tissue box. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she sat down on the floor next to Robin.

“Did you hear about the incident in New York where a female DEA agent was accidentally shot and killed by other agents?” Angie asked.

“Yeah, a while back…about six months ago.”

“I came here from the New York office.”

“Was the woman agent a friend of yours?”

“Yes.” Angie began crying again. Robin waited for her to calm down.

“What a horrible tragedy. My heart goes out to you, Angie.”

Angie looked at him and then put her head on Robin's chest. “That's only half of it, Rob. One of the agents who shot her is my husband.”

“Oh God, Angie, I don't know what to say. What an unthinkable situation!” He held her as the sobs continued.

“How did it happen?” Robin asked softly.

“They were trying to arrest armed and dangerous narcotics suspects in an apartment complex--a man and a woman. My husband and another agent were covering a walkway. They were on surveillance there for hours and didn't attend the briefing.”

“That's not good. Did they use a tactical team?”

“No. The senior agent in charge of the operation doesn't like the tactical guys, and said his team would handle it without tactical.”

“Angie, that borders on criminal conduct. It certainly is incompetent supervision. What actually happened?”

“It just turned dark. Some agents saw the male walking down the walkway further up. They started shouting. My husband saw a female coming around the corner with a gun. He didn't know that a female agent came with the arrest team. He and his partner yelled, “DEA!” She turned toward them and they opened fire and killed her.”