Against All Enemies (11 page)

“What if I’m not looking anymore?”

“You’re not the type to sit on the sidelines. Stop feeling sorry for yourself.” She turned and headed for his apartment. “I’ve got to catch a flight. Drop me off at the airport?” He nodded and followed her. She slipped an arm through his and laid her cheek on his shoulder for a moment. They walked in silence, still arm in arm. “It was good last night, wasn’t it?”

“I hate these modern fucking relationships.”

“Don’t be bitter.” Then, “Hank, you really should do it. For yourself.”

2:00
P.M.
, Friday, May 7,
Carmichael, Calif.

It was a hot afternoon when Harry Waldon and Toni Moreno drove up to the luxury condominium in one of Sacramento’s suburbs. “Nice,” Harry said. “What’s the number?” Toni read off Airman Andrea Hall’s address. “Definitely beyond an airman’s pay,” he said.

“It’s in her mother’s name,” Toni said. “That’s why it took me a week to find it.” She consulted her notes. “Her mother lives in Denver.”

Harry humphed. “Interesting. We need to get a handle on the head tax around here. Let’s go to the office and play prospective buyer.” They parked and walked up to the office. The manager told them three units were for sale for around $200,000 and gave them a guided tour. The last unit was next to Andrea Hall’s. “I love this location,” Toni said. “Does it come with a garage?”

“Each unit has a two-car garage at the rear,” the manager explained as she led them out the back door. “Your association fees cover trash collection.” She pointed toward an alcove between the garages. A trash can had been knocked over and its contents spilled. “Damn,” the manager moaned. “We have trouble with stray cats.” She started to clean up the mess.

Toni knelt down and helped her. “I hate messes,” she said. The manager smiled at her. Toni picked up a discarded envelope and a tee-shirt that had been used as a rag. She could make out the words “Bare Essence” on the tee-shirt but couldn’t tell who the letter was from as she piled the garbage back into the can.

“Well,” Harry said, giving the manager his best Teddy bear grin, “thanks. We’ll keep this in mind.” They ambled away from the manager. Out of earshot, Harry muttered, “Did you see anything?”

“I saw a letter with her name, so it was her trash.”

“You did good. That was a perfect excuse to go through her garbage. You’ve got to use your head gathering evidence, otherwise the rectal reamers will get it thrown out.” Harry always described lawyers in terms relating to the excretory process. “The lady has got money.” He paused for a moment. “We need to do a full financial check on Miss Hall. You do that while I check with some of my contacts in her unit.”

“Could the money be coming from her mother?” Toni asked.

“Maybe. Check her out too. But it’s probably drug related.”

“Are you jumping to conclusions?”

He shrugged. “I’ve been in this business too long. It makes you cynical.”

Toni checked her watch. “Is it okay if I knock off early? I’m going to Reno with my family for the weekend.”

“Don’t shoot craps.”

6:15
P.M.
, Friday, May 7,
Reno, Nev.

Toni was sitting in the front seat of the family minivan when they came down 1-80 out of the mountains. Her brother was driving and her sister was in the back with her mother and father. It was the first time the elder Morenos had been to Reno and her mother’s head was on a swivel, not missing a thing. “What’s that?” her mother asked in Spanish.

“That’s Boomtown, Mama,” her brother answered in the same language. “It’s a casino. We’re almost to Reno.” Robert Moreno was a husky, good-looking, twenty-one-year-old who carried the trademark Moreno nose. It was commonly accepted that, someday, he would be the head of the family. But until the elder Morenos died, the family would continue to speak Spanish.

“That sign,” their mother said, staring at a billboard. “You will not go there, Roberto.” They all laughed. Although she claimed not to speak a word of English, Mrs. Moreno understood every word of the most salacious soap opera or gossip spoken in English. Toni looked in the same direction as her mother. Set back from the road was a sign announcing a new, all-nude review club, Bare Essence. Judging by the weather-beaten condition of the billboard, the club had been in existence for some time.

“Roberto will not go there,” Mr. Moreno said, patting his wife’s arm. He gave Robert a hard look. His word was still law in the family and the old woman relaxed.

Toni’s eyes widened when she made the connection.

“Rob,” Toni called, catching her brother’s attention. “How you doing?” It was early Saturday morning, just after midnight, and the hotel casino was jammed with people.

“Losing my shirt,” came the answer. “How ’bout you?”

“I’m up about two hundred dollars. How are the folks doing?”

“You know Mom. Pop won forty bucks on a slot machine and she dragged him off to the room. They’re probably asleep and he’s shaking the walls.” One of the family jokes concerned the snoring of the family’s patriarch. But it was never mentioned in the presence of either parent.

“Can we talk?”

“Sure,” Robert answered. He guided her to the coffee shop, and they joined a line of waiting people.

“It’s about my job,” Toni explained as they waited for a table.

He frowned. “If some guy is giving you a bad time, his ass is grass.” The Moreno males were very protective of their women, and Toni’s independent streak had caused a great deal of concern.

Toni shook her head. “I can take care of myself. I want to follow up on a lead and I need your help. Remember the sign Mom saw driving in?”

Robert’s frown deepened. “The one about the nude club?”

“I need to check it out,” she told him.

“No way,” he said. “You heard Pop.”

“Rob, this has to do with my job. Besides, it will give you a chance to see what I do.”

“You’ll pay for it?” he asked. She nodded. It was all the encouragement he needed and he rushed her out of the casino.

The parking lot at Bare Essence was full of cars, and two attendants guided them to an open parking space. “They’re security guards,” Toni said.

“How can you tell?” Robert asked.

“You pick up a sixth sense about it. It’s almost like radar.”

Her brother helped her out of the minivan and locked the door. “If Pop finds out about this, we’re going to be in a world of hurt.”

“If he finds out,” Toni retorted, “tell him the truth. It’s time he comes to grips with what I do.”

“You’re still his firstborn. That makes you special.”

A young man dressed in a tuxedo held the door open for them. “Couples are free,” he said. “But please, if nudity offends you, don’t enter.”

Toni almost laughed at the blush that spread across her brother’s face. “We’re not offended,” she said. She led the way into the darkened interior. A skimpily attired waitress guided them to a table and took their orders for drinks. Since no alcoholic beverages were served, Toni settled for coffee and Robert for a coke. A pretty girl, who Toni judged to be about twenty years old, was onstage, totally nude and shimmying up and down a brass pole. “Try not to hyperventilate,” Toni told her brother. He nodded dumbly.

She looked around the room. A padded bench was built along the length of the side and back walls. Men sat on the bench while nude girls wiggled on their laps. The song ended and the dancer looked at the audience. The DJ urged them to show their appreciation with tips and applause. Lacking a response, the girl escaped behind the curtain. “And now,” the DJ bellowed, “on center stage, is the lovely Adrienne.” The music blared and Andrea Hall stepped out from behind the curtain.

Robert stared, not able to take his eyes off her as she slowly shed her clothes. On the second song, she unsnapped her g-string and kicked off her shoes. The audience was deathly still as she danced, moving gracefully to the music. When the song ended, she gave an incredible sexy bow and the room erupted in applause. Five-and ten-dollar bills were thrown at the stage. “She can sure dance,” Robert finally managed to say.

Reluctantly, Toni agreed with him. The DJ announced that the next two songs would be a two-for-one lap dance. “Let’s get out of here,” she said. “I’ve seen enough.”

Robert looked wistfully at Andrea as she gathered up the money. “So soon? Don’t you want me to see how they work the lap dances?”

“No way I’m going to pay for you to get a two-for-one,” she told him. She waited until Andrea disappeared behind the curtain then she dragged her reluctant brother outside.

3:10
P.M.
, Sunday, May 9,
The Farm, Western Virginia

Durant watched Art Rios as he bent over the big table measuring distances off a chart. Durant had appropriated the secure room from the whiz kids to use as a planning cell for the rescue mission. Because Rios had been a key player in his three earlier missions, Durant was relying on him to do the initial planning. But he was worried. “You haven’t done one of these in a long time, Art.”

“I have no intention of going on the mission,” Rios replied. He typed some numbers into a computer and frowned at the results. “The Sudan is too damn big and the geography works against us.” He thought for a few moments. “They know that.” He mumbled to himself and hunched back over the chart. Durant left him to work alone and walked over to the building housing the Project. He wanted to talk to Agnes.

Although it was Sunday, two of the whiz kids were working with Agnes when he arrived. “Hello, Agnes,” he said over their shoulders. The image on the screen twisted as if she were looking past the woman and man sitting in front of her.

“Oh, Mr. Durant.” The image looked flustered. “I’ll be right back.” The screen blinked and Agnes was back. She had changed clothes into a businesslike suit. “I thought this would be more appropriate,” she said.

Durant couldn’t help but smile. “Why?”

“Well, you
are
my employer.”

“That’s right, Agnes,” the woman said. “Without Mr. Durant, we’d all be out of a job.” Agnes nodded as if that confirmed what she had been thinking.

The man stood up and offered Durant his seat. “What can we do for you, sir?”

Durant sat down in front of the second monitor. Agnes immediately switched to that one. “The President has asked me to organize a mission to rescue two pilots out of the Sudan. I was wondering if you can help us.”

“Of course,” Agnes replied. “But you said ‘us.’ Who are the other people?”

“So far, only Art Rios. He’s my mission planner.”

“May I ask why you selected him?” Agnes replied.

“He’s done it three times before: Iran in 1980, Iraq in 1990, and Syria in 1993. But those were much different missions.”

Agnes became very serious. “Let me see what I can find about those missions.” She paused for a few seconds as if she were thinking. “Yes, I see what you mean. Did you know the Iraqi secret police have a standing contract out on Mr. Rios? One million dollars to the person who kills him.”

“Really?” Durant said. “I didn’t know.”

“Neither did I until I started looking. I’ll extend the security watch I have around you to cover Mr. Rios.”

“Can you tell us about the security watch?” the young woman asked. “This is the first we’ve heard about it.”

“I’m sorry, but that’s privileged information between me and Mr. Durant.”

“It’s okay, Agnes,” Durant said. “You can tell them.”

“Mr. Durant asked me to protect his privacy. I assumed that also meant his life, and therefore I have a security watch in place around him.” She gave a little chuckle. “I tasked the California Department of Motor Vehicles computer to do it. But I had to make its programs more efficient to free up space. It’s working correctly now and they don’t know how it happened. They think they may have a virus and don’t know efficiency when they see it. Stupid people. Oh, I just finished talking to the computer Mr. Rios is using. He’s right, it’s best to use helicopters. I recommend you use MH-Fifty-three Pave Lows from the Sixteenth Special Operations Wing. The helicopter is a bit old but they have some very good people. You want to talk to a Lieutenant Colonel Seamus Gerald Gillespie.”

A photo of a young looking, red-haired, skinny, freckle-faced man appeared on the screen next to Agnes. She turned to look at him and sighed. “He looks so young.” A slight pause. “There is a problem. I don’t see how you can get the pilots safely to the helicopters.”

“We’ll work on that,” Durant said.

“Is there anything else, Mr. Durant?”

“Please maintain a communications watch on the Sudan,” Durant answered. “Talk to you later.”

2:55
P.M.
, Monday, May 10,
McClellan Air Force Base, Calif.

This was her first interview and Toni Moreno was dressed for the occasion. She was wearing what she considered her “intimidation” uniform. It consisted of a charcoal-gray pants suit with no-nonsense shoes and a severe high-neck white blouse. The jacket was unbuttoned to reveal her narrow waist. Harry Waldon, her mentor agent who never hurried, shambled into the interview room and sat down. “I saw your report,” he said. “Good work.”

“It was pure luck,” Toni said. “I think she’s earning money dancing at that club. That’s why I called her in.”

Harry nodded. “Might as well. This will be a good interview to cut your teeth on. The first one is always the worst and this is not a biggy. Don’t hurry it, try to get her to trust you.”

“Did you learn anything about her duty assignment?” she asked.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. “Not much. Most of the young studs lust after her but she intimidates them. No problems on the job. What about the financial check?”

“I haven’t had time yet,” Toni answered.

“Be sure to run a check on her mother.” He gave her his lopsided grin. “Just introduce me and I won’t say a thing.” Harry had the ability to look like an innocent Teddy bear and disappear into the woodwork.

Airman First Class Andrea Hall presented herself at exactly three
P.M.
She was dressed in the two-tone blue summer Air Force uniform with a light-blue blouse and darkblue skirt. She was tall, willowy, big-breasted, and blonde. Toni felt like a penguin and stifled a sigh.
Get it over with
, she told herself. “I’m Agent Moreno. Please be seated.” For a moment, Andrea stared at Toni as if she had seen her before or was taking her measure. Then she sat down while Toni closed the door and introduced Harry.

Toni smiled at her. “Can I get you a cup of coffee? Tea? A Coke?” A little shake of Andrea’s head answered her. Toni sat down and went through the perfunctory questions establishing the girl’s identity. “May I call you Andrea? Airman Hall sounds so formal.” This time the girl nodded. “Andrea, we have a problem that you may be able to help us with.”

Again, Andrea studied Toni, trying to place where she had seen her. “I’ll help in any way I can.” Her voice was low and silky smooth, a perfect match for her gorgeous image.

“On Saturday, May eighth, you were observed dancing nude at a club”—Toni made a show of consulting her notes—“called Bare Essence in Reno, Nevada.”

Andrea stared at her. “That was you I saw, wasn’t it? In the club.”

At first, Toni wanted to ignore the question, but Harry’s look told her to tell the truth. “Yes, I was there.”

“Is that illegal?” Andrea asked. “Dancing at a club?”

“No. But if you’re going to moonlight, the Air Force would prefer you found a job where you keep your clothes on.”

Andrea looked away and Toni could see tears in her eyes. She was totally oblivious of Harry’s presence. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

Toni’s voice was soft and consoling. “Don’t say anything you may regret later.” She glanced at Harry to see if it was time to read Andrea her rights. A slight head shake from Harry answered her unspoken question.

The girl’s head came up. “I was on my own time and no one knows I’m in the Air Force. I didn’t want to do it.”

“Then why are you doing it?”

Andrea gave her a patronizing look. “For money, what else. I got in debt—credit cards—they just show up in the mail. A debt collector suggested it. He had contacts.” Now Andrea couldn’t stop talking and it was like Toni had learned in training. It was a rush to confession, the need to cleanse her soul.

“How much do you make a night?” Toni asked.

“On a good night, two thousand dollars.” That was more than Toni made in a month and she wished she hadn’t asked the question. Now Andrea’s voice became more firm. “I declare it all on my income taxes.”

“What do you list as the source?”

“Sales, of course.”

Toni was incredulous. “Sales?”

For the first time, Andrea acknowledged Harry’s presence. “I sell fantasy to guys like him. That’s all. I’m out of debt and saving money. I’ve even got enough to buy some nice things.”

So I’ve noticed
, Toni thought. It was time to test her truthfulness. “Where do you live?”

“I bought a place in Carmichael so I could get off base.”

“Is it in your name?” Toni asked.

“No. It was easier to buy it in my mother’s name. My age is a problem.”

“How old are you?” Again, Toni knew the answer.

“Nineteen.”

Toni felt very old for her age, twenty-six. “Andrea, dancing at a nude club is a bad choice. You’re being exploited.” She didn’t mention that it would probably get her kicked out of the Air Force. But was there more? “People get the wrong idea.”

“You don’t know what goes on there,” Andrea replied.

“You’re right, I don’t.”

“I’m not naïve,” Andrea said. “I know some of the girls are doing more than dancing. And sometimes I hear things. But I don’t get involved.”

Before Toni could ask the next question, she felt one of Harry’s big hands on her arm. “Andrea, what exactly did you hear?” Toni shot a hard look at him for taking over the interview. But a sixth sense told her the veteran agent was onto something she had missed.

“I hear a lot about drugs and passing money. Once I even heard a regular mention the Air Force.”

“A regular?” Harry asked.

“A customer. He always shows up on Saturdays right after we open. He talks a lot to the manager and likes the girls.”

The tone of Harry’s voice changed and he stepped out of the hard-boiled persona that characterized his profession. “Andrea, when we tell your commander about your moonlighting, he will probably want to kick you out of the Air Force.”

“But you said dancing wasn’t illegal.”

Harry shook his head, a sad look on his face. “Did you get his permission to work a second job?”

“No.” Tears flowed down Andrea’s cheeks. “I like the Air Force and want to stay in. But you don’t know what it’s like when the guys hit on you at work. All they want is to get you into bed. That’s no worse than what I do, and they get away with it.”

“I know,” Harry said. “And we want to help you. But how is your commander going to react when he hears about your dancing? Sooner or later, those guys you mentioned will hear about it. What then?” Before she could answer, Harry pressed ahead. “We haven’t read you your rights because you haven’t done anything illegal. But that won’t save you from being kicked out. I would like nothing better than to tell your commander that you are helping us in a positive way in an investigation. I can’t make any promises, but that might sway him in your favor. I’ve seen it happen before.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Just help us for a short time and then quit dancing—before the word gets out.”

“Can I think about it?” Andrea asked.

“Certainly,” Toni said.

“May I go now?”

“You can go anytime you want,” Toni told her.

Andrea stood to leave. She paused at the door. “You don’t believe me. Why don’t you come and see who’s being exploited.” She looked at Harry. “I can take a hundred dollars off
him
in fifteen minutes.” She turned and hurried out the door. Toni looked at her notes. She had hardly written a thing.

Harry cleared his throat, handed her his microcassette recorder, and made a show of turning it off. “She’s probably telling the truth.”

“Then why do you want to use her?”

“Reno is in our area of responsibility and we’ve had cases involving money laundering—”

Toni interrupted. “That lead to Reno.”

Harry smiled. “You got it. We may have a break here. Let me tell the boss what’s going down.” He shifted his bulk out of his chair.

Toni’s voice stopped him short of the door. “Harry, could she have? The hundred dollars? In fifteen minutes?”

A sad look crossed his face and he headed down the hall. “Maybe fifty.”

“She’d get the whole hundred,” Toni muttered.

3:12
A.M.
, Wednesday, May 12,
Whiteman Air Force Base, Mo.

The country road was lost in darkness when Sutherland wheeled his dirty Volvo up to Arnold Gate. He was dog-tired and almost asleep at the wheel. But he felt relieved, almost jubilant, that he had found the base with so little trouble, even though it was the back gate. Sutherland was a terrible navigator and got lost driving around the block. The drive across two-thirds of the country had been absolutely traumatic and, luckily, he had been on autopilot for the last twelve hours, which actually improved his sense of direction. However, true to form, he had missed the main entrance and finally stumbled onto the back gate.

The guard stepped out of the shack and snapped a sharp salute. “Sir,” she said, “please dim your lights when you drive up to the gate. It really helps when it’s dark.” She waved him to proceed without checking his ID. The bumper sticker for McClellan Air Force Base was enough.

“How do I get to the visiting officers quarters?”

She started to give him detailed directions but stopped. She knew a klutz when she saw one and darted back into the shack. She outlined the route in red on a base map and gave it to him. She pointed down the road at his first turn. He thanked her and drove slowly onto base.

The guard shook her head when he missed the turn and reached for the radio clipped to her belt. “A dark red Volvo with California plates just came through Arnold Gate,” she radioed. “The driver is looking for Whiteman Inn. I don’t think he’s got a clue. If you see him flailing around, help him out.”

Tech Sergeant Leroy Rockne’s voice answered. “Roger, we’ll watch for him. Thanks for the heads up.” The guard snapped the radio back onto her belt. Praise from The Rock made her whole shift.