Duty Bound (1995) (34 page)

"Of course," Ramirez said. "Please follow me, Mr.

Tanner. My office is back here. I followed all the instructions and . . ."

Two minutes later Eli shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other as he stood leaning against the wall, listening to the interview. The editor, Ramirez, sat at the head of a small table, flanked by Rita Lopez and Stacy, who held her open notebook.

Ramirez put down his coffee cup and leaned forward in his chair. "Why is it the gringo media always believe Cubans are involved in such activities? Yes, it is true a few Cuban-Americans are involved in the illegal drug business, but their number is very small and they are ostracized by the Cuban community."

Stacy looked into the editor's eyes. "Senor Ramirez, the man identified as the leader of the team that assassinated Senator Goodnight and his family and led the attack on the FBI office was a Cuban. His name was Jorge Orlando and he was from Miami. Is it not true that he has worked for Cuban drug lords?"

"Miss Starr, sadly, you have been misinformed. Jorge Orlando worked for anyone willing to pay for his services. I have received information from a reliable source that Senor Orlando was recently in the employ of a man who was laundering money through a company in your state. The source's employer was not Cuban; he is a Colombian."

Stacy's expression betrayed her surprise. "Have you told the authorities of this?"

"Miss Starr, I only received this information very recently, and I am not a fool. The Colombian I am speaking of is quite well known and extremely ruthless. His people would surely kill me if he knew I had knowledge of his affairs. Why do you think I did not allow you to record this interview, and requested the majority of your people stay outside of this office? If you were to name me as a source, I would be dead within twenty-four hours."

"But you are telling me now, salon Why?"

"I made it clear to Rita on the phone, Miss Starr, that I would speak to you only on the condition of anonymity. I trust my life to my belief that you and Rita will honor our agreement. I agreed to see you and tell you what I have learned so that the truth will be known. It is obvious you and the authorities assumed Orlando was contracted by a Cuban.

It is not so. And I can prove it."

Stacy glanced at Eli before pinning the editor with a questioning stare. "What is your proof?"

Ramirez folded his hands in front of him. "My source is a young man who returned only yesterday from your state, Miss Starr. This young man, along with three others, was involved in recovering eleven million dollars of drug money. The young man and the others were successful and returned the money to its owner, but it seems the owner considered these four men a liability. Three of the men were killed and the young man barely escaped with his life. He was very scared, as you can imagine, Miss Starr, and he sought refuge within our community. Some friends of mine have talked to this young man, and he identified his employer to them. But before I tell you who he is, Miss Starr, I am sure you are aware that neither the FBI nor the DEA has released any information concerning the loss of money from the bank in Dahlonega, Georgia. That alone should persuade you this young man is telling the truth . . . and to add even more validity to his story, he told my friends that others were hired by his employer to assassinate Congressman Richards of your state and the Yona Group CEO, Henry Cobb. The reason, of course, was to eliminate them before they could incriminate his employer in his involvement in a money-laundering scheme. There is one thing more, Miss Starr, and this should interest you very much. The young man states he knows for a fact that his employer hired Jorge Orlando to assassinate Senator Goodnight. He says he knows this because he personally delivered weapons to Senor Orlando before he and his men departed for northern Florida to perform their mission. The young man says the weapons included Mac-10s and M-72 antitank rockets."

Stacy kept her eyes glued to the editor. "Who is it? Who was the young man's employer?"

"Eulalio Terres, Miss Starr. A well-known Colombian drug dealer here in Miami."

Using every ounce of his self-control, Eli forced himself not to move a muscle or show any expression as Stacy asked, "Can I talk to the young man and confirm this information?"

"Of course, it is the reason I agreed to see you, Miss Starr. But as I have explained, the young man is very scared.

He wants federal protection and assurances he won't be prosecuted."

Again Stacy glanced at Eli before shifting her gaze to Ramirez. "I have contacts with the FBI, senor. I can arrange his protection, and if what you told me the young man said is true, I'm sure they'll grant him immunity. When can I talk to him?"

Ramirez motioned to the cellular phone on his desk. "He is awaiting your call, Miss Starr, but Rita will have to talk to him for you. He does not speak English. There is one more thing, a condition. He wants to meet with you before you contact the authorities. It was my suggestion. As a Cuban American, I want to ensure that his information is made public. As I have stated, I am concerned that the authorities have already made up their minds as to who was responsible for these murders. The single-mindedness of the federal agencies is all too well known to us, Miss Starr. Your meeting with the young man, first, ensures that the federal authorities will listen to him, and, second, that his information is acted upon."

"Are you saying you don't trust the FBI?" Stacy asked.

"Please, Miss Starr, we are both well aware that the FBI and DEA are under extreme pressure to find the one responsible for the deaths of the senator and others. Such pressures cause expedient suspect theories. I need only remind you of the security guard in your hometown of Atlanta during the Olympics. The FBI asserted he was the one who planted the pipe bomb in the Olympic village; he was later cleared.

`Trust,' Miss Starr? It is not a matter of trust but rather a concern. It is clear that you and the authorities believe your suspect is a Cuban-American. . . . My concern is that federal officers have already made up their minds. Such officers might not be open-minded to the truth when it is presented to them."

Stacy looked at the cell phone on the desk. "I agree to his condition. Please call him."

Rita held the cell phone to her ear as she spoke to Stacy.

"He says he'll be waiting for us at Versailles, a restaurant on Calle Ocho, Eighth Street. He says you and I are to be dropped off in front of the restaurant so he can see we are alone when we enter. He'll allow us to tape the conversation and you may call the FBI as soon as we arrive."

Stacy saw Eli shaking his head. She said to Rita, "Explain to him we can't come alone as he wants--my bodyguard must accompany me or it's no deal."

Rita. spoke in Spanish into the phone and waited for a response. Seconds ticked by, then she nodded, spoke again in Spanish, and set the phone back on the table. "He agreed to one bodyguard accompanying us inside the restaurant.

The other must stay outside. I told him we'd be there in twenty minutes."

The editor rose. "Miss Starr, I hope that I have helped you. I respect your work greatly and I know you and Rita will ensure the truth is made public."

Stacy shook the editor's hand again. "Senor Ramirez, you have been most courageous for talking to us. Rita and I will do everything possible to expose the man responsible for the murders."

Eli spoke into the miniature mike. "We're coming out.

Check the street and bring up the vehicles."

Thirty seconds later Eli slid the van door shut once Stacy and Rita were inside. He spoke into his mike. "Papa, this is Tango. Did you hear all of it? Over."

A block away, seated in a communications van, Agent Parker responded. "Roger, Tango. We heard and taped it.

Your receiver is working five-by. I've informed the office and have a green light for us. The scramble button is pushed and agents are responding as we speak. Did you believe Ramirez? Over."

"Papa, he certainly knew things that haven't been released, but I don't like it--it's too easy. It smells like a setup to me.

Will you have a bomb team check the vehicles in front of the restaurant? Over."

"Roger, dogs are already en route from Dade County resources as well as undercover detectives. ETA is ten minutes. You'll be covered. The boss also approved a team to watch the editor. We'll pick him up once we have the informer. Over."

"Roger, I have good copy," Eli said. "We'll move slowly to allow time for the reinforcements to get in place. Out here."

Eli turned to Faraday and Ashley, who stood next to him.

"You heard everything on your ear mikes so there's no sense in going over it. Just stay close behind us and stay ready until we stop in front of the restaurant. Once we're inside, take your instructions from Agent Parker."

Ashley shook her head. "I don't like it, Tanner. Ed and I should go in the van with you."

"We've been over this, Sutton. With all the news gear, there's no room. Like I said, just stay on our rear and be ready. Okay, that's it; load up, we're moving out."

As soon as Eli climbed into the front passenger seat, Stacy attacked. "Is Congressman Richards dead? Neither you nor Donny said a word to me about it."

"He's missing, Stacy. We--"

"Donny broke the deal we had, Eli. My God, that means the informer is real. How else would he have known about Richards?"

Eli turned in his seat. "Calm down; this could be a setup.

We're taking precautions and checking it out now. I want you both to listen to me very carefully. The young guy we're supposed to meet may or may not be the real thing.

We're going to play it safe. Agents will be in place in the restaurant and a search for a bomb will be conducted very passively so as not to spook him. If he's real, he'll be there.

If our people don't see a possible suspect, it's off; we don't go in."

Rita quickly leaned forward in her seat. "You don't know what he looks like. How will your agents know if he's there or not?"

"Our people know what to look for, Miss Lopez. If he's real and there, he's going to be in a position to see the street and he's going to be one nervous customer--believe me, we'll know. All right, listen. If he is there, we'll enter the restaurant--I'll lead. When he approaches, don't make any move toward him; keep your distance. When I know he's clean of weapons I'll nod, but you still keep your distance from him while we walk to his table. Agents or undercover detectives will be at most of the tables by the time we get there. I'll direct you two to sit with your backs to the nearest wall. I'll sit to the guy's right. Don't sit until he does. If we get that far without trouble, then chances are we're home free. Got it?"

Stacy dipped her chin. Rita silently nodded as she slowly moved her hand to the hem of her skirt. Eli faced the front again and spoke over his shoulder. "I'm going to go over it one more time anyway. If it's a go when we arrive, I lead.

If he--"

Rita pulled free the small automatic that was taped to her inner thigh, jerked the weapon up, and pressed the barrel against Stacy's temple, saying in a whisper, "Don't move a muscle." Then she spoke calmly in a regular tone. "Agent Tanner, excuse me for interrupting, but who will carry the recorder?"

Eli turned to answer her and froze. Rita lifted a piece of paper with her left hand and handed it to him in silence. Eli read the printed words: You say a word, she dies--then you die. With your left hand pull out your radio and give it to me now!

Eli slowly moved his left hand and pulled the small radio free from his belt, disengaging the wires to his ear receiver and sleeve mike.

As soon as Rita saw that the radio was free from its wires she snapped to the driver, "You know what to do, Pablo.

The turn is just ahead." She grabbed Stacy by the hair, pulled her head down to her lap, and barked, "Put both hands on the dash where I can see them, Agent Tanner, and brace yourself."

Seated in the front passenger seat of the trailing van, Ashley pressed her ear receiver. "Ed, I'm not getting anything, are you?"

Faraday leaned forward in the backseat. "I'm not picking him up eith--what the--ohh shit!"

Seeing the news van in front of them suddenly make a hard left turn, Ashley squealed to the driver, "Follow them!"

Despite the red light, the driver accelerated and was about to make the turn when he had to slam on the brakes to avoid hitting a large refrigerated produce truck that had sped up and suddenly braked in the middle of the intersection, blocking the way. Faraday slid the van door back and yelled into his mike as he ran around the truck. "Parker, news van suddenly made left turn on . . . on . . . Christ! What the hell is the name of this street?" Faraday turned, searching for the street sign, and blurted, "Southwest Fourth Avenue heading north. We're blocked and can't follow! Get on it! I can still see them. They're still heading north-- Wait, they just turned west . . . they're out of sight!"

Eli was thrown against the door as the van made a skidding right turn just after completing a left. Suddenly, the van seemed to leap into the air as it hit a speed bump leading into a parking garage. The van hit the pavement and bounced; the driver slammed on the brakes and skidded the vehicle to a bone jarring halt.

Partially dazed from hitting his head on the van's ceiling when the van had landed from the bump, Eli tried to sit up and see where he was. Then his door opened and a huge man dressed in black wrapped his arms around him. Eli felt like he was being crushed and jerked his head back, feeling a horrific stinging sensation on the side of his neck. Kicking and squirming to free himself, he abruptly felt numb. His eyes blurred and became so heavy he couldn't keep them open. Feeling as if he were falling into a giant black hole, he heard a woman's voice say, "You're dead, Agent Tanner-- got it?"