No offence Intended - Barbara Seranella (29 page)

Moody explained that his sister-in-law in Portland
was a court reporter. He sent her the tapes, which she then
transcribed and sent back to him. Moody had pulled out the copies of
dialogue that he felt would be of particular interest to Blackstone
after the L.A. detective revealed his theory

Three weeks ago, Blackstone learned, the bikers had
suspected that there was a leak within their organization. Moody's
bugs not only picked up conversations within the motel room, but when
the feds played back recordings from their eavesdropping, those could
be heard as well. Moody dug through his records until he found the
transcript of a recording made two weeks earlier.

"This was when things started to go sour for the
feds. Their informant was in danger of being made," he said as
he handed the file to Blackstone.

Blackstone opened the manila envelope and found
neatly typed pages inside. He began to read. The conversation was
between Special Agents Jared Vanowen and Claire Donavon.

J.V: They think they have a snitch.

C.D.: Then let's give them a snitch.

J.V: Who?

C.D.: Someone they already don't like. It
will make them more inclined to believe that he's betrayed them.

J.V: Sounds like you already have someone in
mind.

[Sounds of paper dropping on desk surface.]

C.D.: They call him Sleaze. Last week he
took a quantity of methamphetamine from the lab at the clubhouse.

J.V: Perfect.

Sleaze? Blackstone thought. As in Sleaze John?

The red light in front of one of tape recorders lit
up, signaling an incoming message. Moody turned up the volume. "This
is your buddy Vanowen's room," he said.

"We're going in tonight, as soon as Tuxford
arrives,"
Jared Vanowen's voice said.
"We'll
approach from the south. "

They heard papers rustling. Blackstone assumed that
it was the sound of a map unfolding.

"The Forest Service just did a three-acre
clear-cut,"
Vanowen's voice continued.
"This will
make an excellent staging area, with only a hundred yards of woodland
left to traverse before we reach our objective."

They heard a chair scraping across the floor.

"Does Bolt know we're going in tonight?"
Claire asked.

"Yes. I warned him to keep his nose clean. I
reminded him that we 'd already gone way over the line for him."

"How about his people in Los Angeles?"

"All set. They were moved to a safe house
last Tuesday They'll be taken to the orientation center later this
week—after the bust goes down."

"I hate having to offer these scumbags
deals,"
a new voice chimed in.

"We can 't make our case without him."
Claire's tone was authoritative.
"Be grateful he was willing
to roll over."

"Instant new identity home, and job? They
never had it so good."

"Did you tell him I retrieved the packet?"
Claire asked.

"Why should he have peace of mind?"
Vanowen said. The agents in the room chuckled.

Blackstone and Moody heard doors opening and closing.
Another minute passed and then the tape recorder stopped revolving.

Moody opened his desk drawer and removed a cigar box.
Inside was a revolver. "You might be needing this," he
said.

Blackstone pinned his gold shield onto the lapel of
his Jacket, making sure that the badge hung straight and wasn't
bunching the suede.

Moody handed him a holster to go with the gun, and
Blackstone strapped it around his waist.

Moody's private line rang. He answered it while
eyeing the digital readout on the attached box.

"Moody"

"Finally" Munch said. "Is Blackstone
there?"

"Just a sec, darlin'." Moody handed
Blackstone the phone. "It's her."

"You okay?" Blackstone asked into the
phone.

"Just great. I can't talk now. Meet me tonight.
I'll walk down the road towards the nickel mine. You know where that
is?"

"I'm sure I can find it. Five o'clock?"

"Yeah. But wait for me if I'm late." She
hung up. Blackstone relayed the gist of the call to Moody who filled
a thermos with coffee and said, "It's going to be a long night."
 

26

BOOGIE WAS PLAYING in the front yard when they
finally got back to Deb's house. "C'mon, Boogie," Munch
said, grabbing the boy's hand. "Show me your room."

"Okay" he agreed as they walked out the
door, his eyes never leaving his new treasure.

She spent fifteen minutes with him, not knowing what
to say. He answered her questions with monosyllabie answers. She
showed him how to tell time and he seemed to catch on quickly. He'd
always been a bright boy. "You know, Boogie," she said, "if
you ever wanted to come visit me or stay with me, you can."

"I know," he said without enthusiasm.

There was so much she wanted to explain to him.

"Some people are idiots," she said.

He giggled at the word.

"And some people are just full of hate. You have
to be better than them. Do you understand?"

He tucked his head to one side and scratched the side
of his face. "What time is it now?" he asked, holding up
the watch.

She saw that it was almost live. "Time for me to
take a little walk." She hugged him. "I love you."

He squirmed. "I love you, too," he echoed.

"I'll write you. Would you like that?"

"Sure."

She smoothed hair back from his forehead. "I'm
going to take a walk. When I get back, maybe we can play a game."

"Okay" he said, rubbing his ear on his
shoulder. She hit the road outside of Deb's house at a jog and didn't
slow down until she was past the bend and out of sight. Ten minutes
later, a station wagon rolled up next to her and stopped.

Blackstone was sitting in the passenger seat, wearing
brand-new Western-style clothing. The fat, balding guy driving
introduced himself as Deputy Moody and invited her to get in. She
noticed after she was seated that the back doors had no inside
handles.

"What did you find out?" Blackstone asked.

" know who put the mouth on Sleaze. It was
James. Lisa's James. James was the guy riding shotgun with Sleaze the
last time I saw him."

"So you believe this James was involved in John
Garillo's murder?"

"He's as guilty as if he pulled the trigger
himself. Sleaze was set up. John was a lot of things. But they killed
him for something he didn't do."

The two cops exchanged looks, as if an earlier
conversation was being continued.

"What?" she asked.

"I believe Darnel Willis shot John Garillo,"
Blackstone said. "But he wasn't alone. Someone was driving."

"Tux?"

"What makes you say that?" Blackstone
asked.

"C'mon, he's in this up to his eyeballs. What's
our next step?"

"We are doing nothing. The FBI is going to raid
the Joker clubhouse tonight," Blackstone said, "as soon as
Tuxford arrives."

"You shouldn't tell her that," Moody said.

"No, I think she's all right. Besides," he
said, "she won't be talking to anybody until it's all over."

"I won't?" Munch asked.

"No, we're pulling you out of here. It's too
dangerous.

She thought about the clubhouse. From what she had
seen, it wouldn't be an easy place to take. Did the FBI know about
the trip wires that Deb had set up only hours ago? She sighed. Sleaze
was dead and there was I no bringing him back. Whether or not any of
her old friends would approve of what she was about to do was
irrelevant. That whole line of thinking was part of her I old value
system. She was a new person now a self-supporting citizen. How many
more months would she waste carrying yesterdays banners?

"I've got to go up there," she said.
"There's going to be a baby up there."

"What baby?" Blackstone asked.

"Her name is Asia. She's an orphan. Her mom died
a couple months ago. Sleaze was her daddy Tux and James have her with
them. They'll all be at the clubhouse tonight."

"What's your connection to this kid?"
Blackstone asked.

"I'm her godmother," she said, the lie
coming easier with each telling. " promised I'd give her a good
home—you know, somewhere safe." She paused, tried to see
outside. Her breath fogged the window. "I'm not leaving here
without her"

"I don't know how all the laws concerning
orphans work," Blackstone said. "That'll have to be handled
at a county level."

"That's not good enough," she said.

"What did you have in mind?" Blackstone
asked.

"I'll go to the party at the clubhouse tonight.
Deb says that the brothers up here know Tux is her ol' man and we'll
be safe. I'll grab the baby and split before the bust goes down."

"That's your whole plan?"

"No. There's one other thing we need to do.
Sleaze was killed because the Jokers thought he was an FBI informant,
right?"

Moody looked out his window but Blackstone looked
directly in her eyes. "Right."

"The FBI pays their informants, gives them new
identities and lives, right?"

"Yes."

"A slice of that pie should go to Asia. Wouldn't
that only be fair?"

"How do you propose to make that happen?"
Blackstone asked.

"The same way they operate," she said. "A
little bit of trade, a little bit of blackmail."

Moody turned back around. " think I like this
girl."

She massaged her throbbing temples. "There's no
way they're going to make it up to that clubhouse without shedding a
lot of blood. There's trip wires everywhere, I spent the morning
helping to set them up. They're connected to illumination grenades.
You say the feds are mounting a raid? That means they've set up local
headquarters. I think it's time you paid them a visit."

She outlined her plan to them. The two cops listened,
their faces breaking into wide smiles. They even added a few touches
of their own.

Moody turned the car around. "You better get
back to the house," he said to Munch.

She bent her head and clasped her hands in front of
her.

"What are you doing now?" Blackstone asked.

"Calling for backup," she said, and went
back to her prayers.

Munch, Deb, and Roxanne left for the party right
after dinner, just as it was getting dark.

Boogie was dropped off at the neighbors house.

The three women drove for thirty minutes, turning
when they reached the dirt road leading to the clubhouse. Munch
spotted a few familiar landmarks, like the turtle-shaped rock.

The truck bounced as it maneuvered over deep ruts,
exposed boulders, and ancient tree roots. She pictured the damage a
car would sustain trying to climb this road. It wouldn't get far
before it bent tie rods or a rock punctured its oil pan. They came to
the place where they had hiked to the waterfall and shot the deer.
She recognized the blind bend up ahead and knew the sentries were
close.

''What happens if we meet someone coming down?"
Munch asked, noticing no turnouts or shoulders in the narrow road.

"Then somebody will have to put it in reverse,"
Deb said. She and Roxanne laughed at some inside joke. "Of
course, scooters always have the right of way"

They crested the last bend in the road and Munch saw
twenty Harleys parked in front of a two-story wooden hunter's lodge.
The sound of rock 'n' roll carried from inside the building.
Ten-foot-tall stalks of marijuana, some with roots still intact, hung
upside down under the protection of the roof's awning.

Deb parked the truck. "Let's go inside and get
us some antifreeze."

Roxanne laughed. Munch shivered inside her coat.

'You sure we're going to be safe?"

"What's the matter with you?" Deb asked.
"You were the one who always led the charge and it was always me
holding back. Now you're a big wussy"

"A lot of things are different," Munch
said. She got out of the truck and looked up. The number of stars in
the sky stunned her. She'd never seen anything like it before, how
they crowded each other and twinkled. Maybe it was the cold that did
it. The fog of her breath was thick enough to blow smoke rings.

"Deborah," she said, wanting to share these
wonders, "check it out."

But Deb's eyes were on the five or six bikers
drinking beers on the front porch of the clubhouse and shouting
encouragement to their brethren.