Rage of Angels (36 page)

On the drive back to the hotel, Jennifer made up her mind that, chauffeur or no chauffeur, she was going to bring up Bjork’s name.

As the car turned on to Orchard Road, Jennifer said determinedly, “About Stefan Bjork—”

“Ah, yes. I have arranged for you to visit him at ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”

In Washington, D.C., Adam Warner was summoned from a meeting to take an urgent telephone call from New York.

District Attorney Robert Di Silva was on the phone. He was jubilant. “The special grand jury just returned the indictments we asked for. Every one of them! We’re all set to move.” There was no response. “Are you there, Senator?”

“I’m here.” Adam forced enthusiasm into his voice. “That’s great news.”

“We should be able to start closing in within twenty-four hours. If you can fly up to New York, I think we should have a final meeting tomorrow morning with all the agencies so we can coordinate our moves. Can you do that, Senator?”

“Yes,” Adam said.

“I’ll make the arrangements. Ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll be there.” Adam replaced the receiver.

The special grand jury just returned the indictments we asked for. Every one of them!

Adam picked up the telephone again and began to dial.

The visitors’ room at Changi Prison was a small, bare room with whitewashed stucco walls, containing one long table with hard wooden chairs set on either side. Jennifer was seated in one of the chairs, waiting. She looked up as the door opened and Stefan Bjork walked in, accompanied by a uniformed guard.

Bjork was in his thirties, a tall, sullen-faced man with protuberant eyes.
A thyroid condition
, Jennifer thought. There were vivid bruises on his cheeks and forehead. He sat down opposite Jennifer.

“I’m Jennifer Parker, your attorney. I’m going to try to get you out of here.”

He looked at her and said, “You better make it soon.”

It could have been a threat or a plea. Jennifer remembered Michael’s words:
I want you to bail him out before he starts talking.

“Are they treating you all right?”

He cast a covert look at the guard standing near the door. “Yeah. Okay.”

“I’ve applied for bail for you.”

“What are the chances?” Bjork was unable to conceal the hope in his voice.

“I think they’re pretty good. It will be two or three days at the most.”

“I have to get out of this place.”

Jennifer rose to her feet. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Thanks,” Stefan said. He held out his hand.

The guard said sharply, “No!”

They both turned.

“No touching.”

Stefan Bjork gave Jennifer a look and then said hoarsely, “Hurry!”

When Jennifer returned to her hotel, there was a telephone message that Inspector Touh had called. As she was reading it, the phone rang. It was the inspector.

“While you are waiting, Miss Parker, I thought you might enjoy a little tour of our city.”

Jennifer’s first reaction was to say no, but she realized there was nothing she could do until she had Bjork safely on a plane out of here. Until then, it was important to keep Inspector Touh’s goodwill.

Jennifer said, “Thank you. I would enjoy that.”

They stopped to have lunch at Kampachi, and then headed for the countryside, driving north on Bukit Timah Road to Malaysia, going through a series of colorful little villages with a variety of food stands and shops. The people seemed well-dressed and prosperous looking. Jennifer and Inspector Touh stopped at the Kranji Cemetery and War Memorial, walking up the steps and through the open blue gates. In
front of them was a large marble cross, and in the background an enormous column. The cemetery was a sea of white crosses.

“The war was very bad for us,” Inspector Touh said. “We all lost many friends and family members.”

Jennifer said nothing. Her mind could see a grave in Sands Point. But she could not let herself think about what lay beneath the small mound.

In Manhattan, a meeting of law enforcement agencies was in progress at the Police Intelligence Unit on Hudson Street. There was an air of jubilation in the crowded room. Many of the men had gone into the investigation with cynicism, for they had been through this kind of exercise before. Over the past years they had managed to accumulate overwhelming evidence against mobsters and murderers and blackmailers, and in case after case, high-priced legal talent had won acquittals for the criminals they represented. This time it was going to be different. They had the testimony of the
Consigliere
Thomas Colfax, and no one would be able to shake him. For more than twenty-five years he had been the linchpin of the mob. He would go into court, give names, dates, facts and figures. And now they were being given the go-ahead to move.

Adam had worked harder than anyone in the room to make this moment happen. It was to have been the triumphal carriage that would take him to the White House. Now that the moment was here, it had turned to ashes. In front of Adam was a list of people who had been indicted by the special grand jury. The fourth name on the list was Jennifer Parker, and the charges opposite her name were murder and conspiracy to commit half a dozen different federal crimes.

Adam Warner looked around the room and forced himself to speak. “You’re—you’re all to be congratulated.”

He tried to say more, but the words would not come out. He was filled with such self-loathing that it was a physical pain.

The Spanish are right
, Michael Moretti thought.
Vengeance is a dish best eaten cold.
The only reason Jennifer Parker was still alive was because she was out of his reach. But she would be returning soon. And in the meantime, Michael could savor what was going to happen to her. She had betrayed him in every way a woman could betray a man. For that he was going to see that she received special attention.

In Singapore, Jennifer tried again to put a call through to Michael.

“I’m sorry,” the switchboard operator told her, “the circuits to the United States are busy.”

“Will you keep trying, please?”

“Of course, Miss Parker.”

The operator looked up at the man standing guard beside the switchboard, and he gave her a conspiratorial smile.

At his downtown headquarters, Robert Di Silva was looking at a warrant that had just been delivered. It had Jennifer Parker’s name on it.

I’ve finally got her
, he thought. And he felt a savage satisfaction.

The telephone operator announced, “Inspector Touh is in the lobby to see you.”

Jennifer was surprised, for she had not been expecting him. He must have some news about Stefan Bjork.

Jennifer took the elevator down to the lobby.

“Forgive me for not telephoning,” Inspector Touh apologized.
“I thought it best to speak to you personally.”

“You have some news?”

“We can talk in the car. I want to show you something.”

They drove along Yio Chu Kang Road.

“Is there a problem?” Jennifer asked.

“None at all. Bail will be set for the day after tomorrow.”

Then where was he taking her?

They were passing a group of buildings on Jalan Goatopah Road, and the driver brought the car to a stop.

Inspector Touh turned to Jennifer. “I’m sure this will interest you.”

“What is it?”

“Come along. You will see.”

The interior of the building was old and dilapidated-looking, but the overpowering impression was of the smell, wild and primitive and musky. It was like nothing Jennifer had ever smelled before.

A young girl hurried forward and said, “Would you like an escort? I—”

Inspector Touh waved her aside. “We won’t need you.”

He took Jennifer’s arm and they walked outside into the grounds. There were half a dozen large sunken tanks and from them came a series of strange slithering sounds. Jennifer and Inspector Touh reached the first pen. There was a sign:
Keep Your Hands Off the Pool. Danger.
Jennifer looked down. The tank was filled with alligators and crocodiles, dozens of them, all in continuous movement, sliding over and under one another.

Jennifer shuddered. “What is this?”

“It is a crocodile farm.” He looked down at the reptiles. “When they are between three and six years old they are skinned and turned into wallets and belts and shoes. You see that most of them have their mouths open. That is the way
they relax. It is when they close their mouths that you must be careful.”

They moved on to a tank with two enormous alligators in it.

“These are fifteen years old. They are used only for breeding purposes.”

Jennifer shivered. “They’re so ugly. I don’t know how they can stand each other.”

Inspector Touh said, “They can’t. As a matter of fact, they do not often mate.”

“They’re prehistoric.”

“Precisely. They go back millions of years, with the same primitive mechanisms they had at the beginning of time.”

Jennifer wondered why he had brought her here. If the inspector thought that these horrible-looking beasts would interest her, he was mistaken. “May we go now?” Jennifer asked.

“In a moment.” The inspector looked up toward the young girl who had met them inside. She was carrying a tray toward the first tank.

“Today is feeding day,” the inspector said. “Watch.”

He moved with Jennifer toward the first tank. “They feed them fish and pigs’ lungs once every three days.”

The girl began throwing food into the pen, and instantly it erupted into a churning, swirling mass of activity. The alligators and crocodiles lunged for the raw, bloody food, tearing into it with their saurian fangs. As Jennifer watched, two of them went for the same piece of meat, and instantly they turned on each other, savagely attacking, biting and slashing until the pen started to fill with blood. The eyeball of one was torn loose, but its teeth were sunk into the jaws of its attacker and it would not let go. As the blood began pouring out more heavily, staining the water, the other crocodiles joined in, savaging their two wounded mates, ripping at their heads until the raw skin was exposed. They began to devour them alive.

Jennifer felt faint. “Please, let’s get out of here.”

Inspector Touh put his hand on her arm. “One moment.”

He stood there watching, and after a while he led Jennifer away.

That night, Jennifer dreamt of the crocodiles clawing and tearing each other to pieces. Two of them suddenly turned into Michael and Adam, and in the middle of her nightmare Jennifer woke up, trembling. She was unable to go back to sleep.

The raids began. Federal and local law-enforcement agents struck in a dozen different states and in half a dozen foreign countries, and the raids were orchestrated to take place simultaneously.

In Ohio, a senator was arrested while making a speech to a women’s club on honesty in government.

In New Orleans, an illegal national bookmaking operation was shut down.

In Amsterdam, a diamond smuggling operation was halted.

A bank manager in Gary, Indiana, was arrested on charges of laundering Organization money.

In Kansas City, a large discount house filled with stolen goods was raided.

In Phoenix, Arizona, half a dozen detectives on the vice squad were placed under arrest.

In Naples, a cocaine factory was seized.

In Detroit, a nationwide automobile theft ring was broken up.

Unable to reach Jennifer by telephone, Adam Warner went to her office.

Cynthia recognized him instantly.

“I’m sorry, Senator Warner, Miss Parker is out of the country.”

“Where is she?”

“The Shangri-La Hotel in Singapore.”

Adam’s spirits rose. He could telephone her and warn her not to return.

The hotel housekeeper walked in as Jennifer was getting out of the shower.

“Excuse me. What time will you be checking out today?”

“I’m not checking out today. I’m leaving tomorrow.”

The housekeeper looked puzzled. “I was told to get this suite ready for a party coming in late tonight.”

“Who told you to do that?”

“The manager.”

Downstairs, an overseas call was coming in at the switchboard. There was a different operator on duty and a different man was standing over her.

The operator spoke into her mouthpiece. “New York City calling Miss Jennifer Parker?”

She looked at the man standing next to her. He shook his head.

“I’m sorry. Miss Parker has checked out.”

The sweeping raids continued. Arrests were made in Honduras, San Salvador, Turkey and Mexico. The net swept up dealers and killers and bank robbers and arsonists. There were crackdowns in Fort Lauderdale and Atlantic City and Palm Springs.

And they continued.

In New York, Robert Di Silva was keeping close track of the progress being made. His heart beat faster as he thought about the net that was closing in on Jennifer Parker and Michael Moretti.

Michael Moretti escaped the police dragnet by sheer
chance. It was the anniversary of his father-in-law’s death, and Michael and Rosa had gone to the cemetery to pay homage to her father.

Five minutes after they left, a carload of FBI agents arrived at Michael Moretti’s house and another carload at his office. When they learned he was not in either place, the agents settled down to wait.

Jennifer realized that she had neglected to make a plane reservation for Stefan Bjork back to the States. She called Singapore Airlines.

“This is Jennifer Parker. I’m booked on your Flight One-Twelve leaving tomorrow afternoon for London. I’d like to make an additional reservation.”

“Thank you. Would you hold the line, please?”

Jennifer waited and after a few minutes the voice came back on the line. Was that Parker? P-A-R-K-E-R?”

“Yes.”

“Your reservation has been canceled, Miss Parker.”

Jennifer felt a small shock. “Canceled? By whom?”

“I do not know. You have been taken off our passenger list.”

“There’s been some mistake. I’d like you to put me back on that list.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Parker. Flight One-Twelve is full.”

Inspector Touh was the one to straighten everything out, Jennifer decided. She had agreed to have dinner with him. She would find out what was happening then.

He picked her up early.

Jennifer told the inspector about the mix-up in her hotel and plane reservations.

He shrugged. “Our famous inefficiency, I am afraid. I will look into it.”

“What about Stefan Bjork?”

“Everything is arranged. He will be released tomorrow morning.”

Inspector Touh said something to the driver in Chinese and the car made a U-turn.

“You have not seen Kallang Road. You will find it most interesting.”

The car made a left turn on to Lavender Street, then one block later a right turn to Kallang Bahru. There were large signs advertising florists and casket companies. A few blocks later the car made another turn.

“Where are we?”

Inspector Touh turned to Jennifer and said quietly, “We are on the Street With No Name.”

The car began to move very slowly. There were only undertakers on both sides of the street, row after row of them: Tan Kee Seng, Clin Noh, Ang Yung Long, Goh Soon. Ahead, a funeral was in progress. All the mourners were dressed in white and a three-piece band was playing: a tuba, a sax and drums. A body was laid out on a table with wreaths of flowers around it and a large photograph of the deceased sat on an easel facing the front. Mourners were sitting around, eating.