The Quality of the Informant (14 page)

"Yes, sir," Lockhart said.

Stallworth
pushed his chair back. Everyone stood up. The chairman of the board left the room.

Omar T. Lockhart felt perspiration trickle down the middle of his back.

****

Chapter 12

CARR AND Kelly sat in a sedan across the street from the Castaways Lounge. The tavern was sandwiched between a porno shop with a cloth hanging over its front door and a storefront telephone answering service that Carr knew was used as a contact point for whores and pimps. Over the front entrance to the bar was a sign that read "No T-shirts or Bare Feet."

As usual, Kelly insisted on getting out of the sedan and stretching his legs every half hour. So far he had done this four or five times.

He finished reading a newspaper and tossed it in the backseat. "Have you ever thought about what this does to a person's health?" Kelly said.

Carr gave him a puzzled look.

"Just sitting on your butt all day in the front seat of a car," Kelly said. "Lack of exercise, food can't digest properly. It's bad for the circulation, too. Just as soon as we get off work, what do we do? We sit on our butts at Ling's bar, swilling drinks and eating greasy chicken rolls. There's absolutely nothing healthful about the job. If you let it, the job will kill
ya
, outright kill
ya
. Death by blood clots in the legs."

"Linda said he comes here every Friday without fail," Carr said, gazing across the street.

"We'll probably still be sitting here at midnight," Kelly said.

Carr shrugged.

Less than half an hour later, a Cadillac pulled up in front of the bar. Teddy Mora opened the door, got out, and glanced around. He was wearing a tropical shirt, white pants, and sandals.

The T-men ducked down in the seat as Mora sauntered through the front door. They sat up again.

"Okay," Kelly said. "The asshole showed up. If he's peddling counterfeit money, he's got to have some on him. I say we stroll right into the place, throw him up against a wall, and see what he's got in his goddamn pockets. Nothing to lose, really, and we might even get lucky."

"Let's wait until we catch his act," Carr said.

"We could be here forever," Kelly said.

Three hours later, Mora exited the front door and looked around. He walked to the Cadillac and got in.

"Let's just grab him and see if he's holding," Kelly said.

"Not yet," Carr said. His eyes were riveted to the Cadillac.

Mora started the Caddy and drove past them. Carr fumbled with the ignition and squealed tires making a U-turn.

He followed, letting Mora stay a block or so ahead. Suddenly the Cadillac pulled into a small parking lot next to a hamburger stand. Mora parked and got out. He shuffled into a telephone booth and closed the door. Moments later he exited the booth and returned to his vehicle. He started the engine and drove off.

"Pretty short phone call," Carr said, his eyes still on the phone booth.

"You're right, partner." Kelly got out of the car, strolled to the phone booth, and stepped inside. A minute later he returned to the sedan and climbed in. "The booth is loaded. There's a stack of bogus twenties taped under the phone box," Kelly said, digging around in the glove compartment. He found a set of handcuff s and stuffed them in his pocket.

In less than ten minutes, a white Porsche with a bumper sticker that
read
"Happiness is Being Single" pulled up next to the hamburger stand. An emaciated-looking young man wearing tight Levi's and a tank top got out on the driver's side. He had a grayish complexion. Tugging nervously at his mop of curly hair, he surveyed the street carefully. Finally, he stepped into the telephone booth and pushed the accordion door closed.

"He was in the Castaways earlier," Kelly said. "I remember the car."

The young man picked up the telephone receiver and held it to his ear. His other hand sought the bottom of the phone box. He shoved something into his pants pocket and opened the door. After glancing around, he stepped out of the booth and headed for the Porsche.

"He's got it!" Carr said on his way out of the sedan. He ran across the street at full speed. As he approached, the young man ripped an envelope from his pocket and tossed it on the ground. He dove for the door of the sports car. Carr grabbed the man's arm and spun it behind him. "Federal officers," he said. "You're under arrest." The young man gave a moan. Kelly snatched the envelope off the ground. He handed Carr the handcuffs. Carr fastened them onto the man's wrists. He dragged the struggling man across the street to the sedan and shoved him into the backseat.

Kelly climbed in next to the prisoner. He thumbed through the stack of counterfeit notes as Carr walked around the sedan and got into the driver's seat.

The young man's eyes were shut. "I'm fucked," he said, shaking his head. "I'm on parole right now. I'll get violated.
God damn it!"
There were inch-long strands of curly hair growing on the man's sallow cheeks. His nose was running.

Kelly handed Carr the packet of counterfeit money. The T-man looked at it without expression for a moment. The prisoner squirmed. "Pretty rough," Carr said. "Taking a trip back to the joint for such a little package..."

The young man's mouth hung open like a baby
bird's
. His eyes were shut. "God damn it," he cried. "I
shoulda
never left my apartment. I had nightmares last night. Shit comes down on me whenever I have nightmares. My roommate told me not to do anything today...
God damn it."

"We want Teddy Mora," Carr said without emotion.

The man was silent for what must have been a full minute. "I
ain't
no snitch," he said.

"I didn't say you were," Carr responded. "But you just
might
be a businessman. If you are a businessman, you'll realize that now is the time to make a deal."

"Exactly what kind of a deal?" The man leaned forward in the seat.

"You for Teddy Mora," Carr said.

The young man looked out the window for a while and sniffled a few times. "I'll never testify. I'm not crazy. I've seen what happens to people when they-"

"You won't have to testify," Carr interrupted. He lit a cigarette.

"If I take this thing to trial I might beat it altogether. I beat my first case that way. My lawyer told me what to say." He twisted around to wipe his nose on his shoulder. He missed. "The assistant U.S. attorney was a broad with wire hair. She kept trying to use big words; got all screwed up when she asked questions. My lawyer told me he met her at a lawyer's party after the trial. She cried about losing the case. He said she blew him in the front seat of his Mercedes after the party. He tells everybody the story."

"On the other hand, you might go to trial and lose," Carr said.

"That's what happened the second time," the young man said. "The judge sentenced me to probation on the case."

"There's a chance you might get a little prison time for the third offense," Carr said.

The man nodded. "Just happened to a friend of mine. He got six months-that means two months in the joint minus good time and all." He shook his head sadly.

"On the other hand, why do even two months?" Carr said.

The man sat quietly for a few minutes. He leaned his head down to wipe his nose on a knee. He missed.

"Exactly what would I have to do?"

"Just phone Teddy and tell him you want some more, Carr said.

"Then will you let me go?"

"Yes."

The young man furrowed his brow. His head turned from Carr to Kelly and back to Carr. "I want it in writing," he said. "I don't trust cops. I've been screwed before."

"We don't put things in writing," Carr said.

The prisoner leaned forward and attempted to wipe his dripping nose on his knee. Again he missed. He closed his mouth and inhaled.

"This guy is making me sick," Kelly said. "Let's book him."

" If you won't put it in writing, will you repeat what you've just said in front of my lawyer?"

"We hate lawyers," Carr told him.

Nothing was said for a few minutes.

"Will you let me go as soon as I make the call?" the young man said.

"As soon as you make the call," Carr said.

The man leaned back in the seat. He was silent again. Finally, he spoke. "He'll know it was me."

Carr stuffed the counterfeit money back in its envelope. He initialed and dated it, then pulled a rubber band off the rearview mirror and wrapped it around the envelope. Roughly he shoved the packet into his inside coat pocket.

"You're right," Carr said. He started the engine.

The young man sat up. "Where are we going?"

"To lock you up," Carr said. He put the car in gear.

"Okay. I'll call him," the young man said. "But I've never snitched before. I really haven't."

Carr turned off the engine. Kelly reached behind the man's back and unlocked the handcuffs. He opened the car door and ushered the prisoner to the telephone booth. Carr followed. Kelly dropped a dime in the slot and handed the prisoner the receiver. He dialed, with Kelly looming over him like a grizzly.

He asked to speak with Teddy Mora. A few seconds went by. "It's me," he said. "I picked up the... uh... letter at the phone company. Yes, everything is okay." He bit his lip. "It's just that the letter isn't big enough. I need another one of the same size. I wasn't thinking when I placed my first order. I'm planning to take a trip and the letter won't last. I want to have enough to last throughout the trip." The young man's face contorted. He bit harder on his lip. "Well, then you can just forget it, man. Like I can score somewhere else. If you don't want to go to the trouble of delivering another letter, I'll just take my business
elsewheres
... okay, man... okay...
The same place.
You know I'm good for it...I don't like to talk on the phone either. Right on." The young man hung up the phone. "He's coming to deliver another package to this phone booth," he said. "He was pissed off that I didn't order a bigger one to start with. I did what you wanted." He shook his head sadly. "Now I know what it feels like to rat on somebody." He wiped his nose with two fingers and rubbed the fingers on his trousers. "I shouldn't have done it," he said.

Carr's thumb pointed to the Porsche. "Nice to meet you," he said.

"I wasn't sure you were going to keep your word," the man said.

Carr mocked a smile. The man trotted to the Porsche, climbed in, and drove off. Carr and Kelly returned to the government sedan.

Teddy Mora arrived less than ten minutes later. He parked his Cadillac next to the phone booth and got out.

The Treasury men had their hands on the door handles. They vaulted out of the sedan and broke into a run. They hit Mora like the Rams' line, knocking him to the ground. They each grabbed an arm and pressed him to the pavement. Carr's fingers flew to the man's pockets and pulled out a stack of twenties.

"I was set up," Mora said as Kelly snapped handcuffs onto his wrists.

****

Chapter 13

THE FIELD office interview room was paneled with cheap acoustical fiberboard and was, as all police interview rooms are, less than adequate in size. Carr, with Kelly at his side filling out an arrest report, stared at Mora across a small table. He asked him about
LaMonica
.