Ties That Bind (15 page)

Then, Oscar had had to put up with Dupre’s ravings at the jail. Jesus, could he go on and on. But Baron was pretty good at tuning out clients, and he could put up with the most unmitigated bullshit for what Dupre was paying him.

Finally, there was this ridiculous meeting in the middle of nowhere. Dupre had insisted that Baron deal with an FBI agent named Hunter. Baron had called the local office and left his number. Hunter had called him at home and told him they had to meet immediately behind this abandoned gas station on a deserted stretch of the highway to the coast. When Oscar pointed out that it was one in the morning and he was in bed, the agent had insisted that the clandestine rendezvous was necessary for security reasons. Oscar would have told the agent to go fuck himself if Dupre hadn’t promised a sizeable bonus for a good deal.

A car turned into the lot and Oscar stubbed out his cigarette. It was about time. The lawyer got out of his car and turned up the collar of his camel’s-hair overcoat to protect his cheeks from the wind. Overnight, the weather had turned and it was close to freezing. The car pulled alongside Oscar, and the driver reached over and opened the door. He was Hispanic, with a flat, pock-marked face and a wisp of a mustache. That didn’t seem right. Oscar was certain that Dupre had told him that Hunter was black. Well, this guy was dark. Baron didn’t really care; as long as he was being paid, he’d deal with anyone.

“Agent Hunter was called away on another case, Mr. Baron.” He held out his credentials. “I’m Agent Castillo.”

“Hunter just called me.”

“He was as upset as you are, but something came up. I really can’t discuss his other case. You understand.”

“All I know is that he got me out of bed in the middle of the night,” Oscar complained as he slid onto the passenger seat.

“If we weren’t concerned for your safety I would be snug under the covers myself.”

“Yeah, well, let’s get this over with. I’m freezing my nuts off.”

“What does Mr. Dupre want?”

“To get out of jail.”

“That may be difficult. He killed a United States senator . . . .”

“He denies that.”

“Yes, well, then there’s the little matter of murdering Mr. Hayes, which is a state matter over which the Bureau has no jurisdiction. Besides, I’m not certain I should be talking to you. I’ve been told that Amanda Jaffe represents Mr. Dupre.”

“Do you see Jaffe sitting here? She’s a court-appointed lawyer. Jon doesn’t trust her. He doesn’t trust anyone except me.”

“So, she doesn’t know anything about these negotiations?”

“Not a thing. Now, let’s get down to business, so I can go home. You figure out a way to help Jon and Jon will help you fry some very big fish.”

“Such as?”

“Pedro Aragon, for one.”

“Go on.” Castillo said it as if he wasn’t impressed, but his body language suggested otherwise.

“My client has knowledge of Aragon’s operation. He can show you how his people bring the stuff in, he can draw you an organizational chart . . . .”

“We know a lot of this already, Mr. Baron.”

“But can you prove it? Jon’s been secretly taping and filming conversations with Aragon’s men; it’s an insurance policy for situations like this. With Jon’s evidence you can bag some of Aragon’s lieutenants. Maybe they’ll turn. And Jon says he’s got other stuff that will make busting Aragon seem like small potatoes.”

“Oh. What would that be?”

“He didn’t tell me. He just said to tell you that what he has is dynamite.”

Baron pulled a tape recorder out of his coat pocket and laid it on the seat between them.

“Let me play you a sample of the stuff he’s got against Aragon.”

Baron hit the play button and a tape started to roll. Halfway through, Oscar zoned out. The stuff was good evidence, but pretty boring. A lot of drug jabber about quality and prices. It could have been two guys at a used-car lot. Oscar didn’t snap out of his trance until Castillo flashed the car’s headlights.

“What’s that for?” the lawyer asked just as his door was yanked open. A hand grabbed his coat collar, and a huge man started to pull him out of the car. Oscar hung on to the dashboard. A gun butt smashed his fingers, and he screamed. He was on the ground before it registered that it was Castillo who had crushed his fingers. Oscar opened his mouth to protest, but the muzzle of another gun ripped past his lips and smashed his teeth. Oscar tried to scream again, but he choked on the muzzle. The man who had pulled him from the car pushed the gun barrel deeper into his mouth. Castillo walked into Oscar’s line of sight.

“If you make a sound, the gun will be pushed down your throat and you will choke to death. Nod if you understand.”

Oscar jerked his head up and down. The metal barrel was tickling his throat and he had to fight his gag response. Castillo nodded. The gun slid out of Oscar’s mouth and he gasped for air.

Castillo squatted beside Baron, grabbed his ear, and twisted. Baron grimaced, too frightened to cry out.

“You said that this tape is a sample. Do you have others?”

“Aah. Please. There’s more in my safe.”

Castillo released the pressure on Oscar’s ear.

“You’re at our mercy, Oscar. No one is going to come to your rescue. Whether you live or die depends solely on how much you cooperate. Do you understand me?”

Oscar nodded.

“Good. We’ve had taps on your phone and we’ve had your home and office wired since you were at the jail yesterday. That’s how we knew that you called the FBI. So don’t bullshit me.”

“I won’t.”

“I want the combination to your safe and the keys to your home and your office. We’ll take you to a safe place. If you’ve been honest you’ll be released unharmed. If you’ve lied, you will be tortured. Do you understand?”

Baron nodded. He understood perfectly. He could identify his captors, so he would have to die. His only hope was that if he cooperated completely, his death would be quick.

“ . . . was found brutally murdered in his home. Police told reporters that Baron had been tortured and robbery appeared to be the motive.”

Ally slowed down. She didn’t believe in coincidences; the murder had to be connected to the tapes she’d given to Baron. With a chill, she realized that Oscar knew her name. What if he told it to his killers? What if they discovered where she lived?

All of a sudden, it didn’t seem smart to go up to her apartment. Ally switched off her headlights and made a slow U-turn. She was almost at the entrance to the apartment complex when headlights came on at the far end of the lot. Ally jammed the accelerator to the floor and peeled out across traffic. She turned right at the first street and began weaving in and out of side streets. Ally slowed down but kept a constant watch in her rearview mirror. After a few minutes, she started to feel silly. Was her high-speed flight caused by paranoia? Maybe, but Ally decided not to take any chances. She took out the loaded .38 she carried ever since one of her customers had smacked her around, and placed it next to her on the passenger seat. When the car from the lot did not materialize, Ally headed toward the freeway.

Ally rummaged through the contents of the safe. She found some business ledgers and glanced through them. They contained the names, phone numbers, and addresses of Exotic Escort customers, and were cross-referenced to the tapes. Ally selected a few videotapes at random. There was a big-screen TV in the basement. She turned it on, put a cassette in the VCR, and pressed play. What she saw was what she’d expected to see. A fat, older man, whom Ally recognized as an influential politician, was groping a naked Asian girl named Joyce Hamada. She watched for a while before taking the tape out and popping in another. It was more of the same, only the partners were different. Ally was puzzled. These tapes would be interesting to the cops, but no one was going to let Jon off in exchange for them. Whatever Jon was counting on had to be a hell of a lot different from what she’d seen. Then she remembered the cassette she’d slipped into Jon’s pocket at the Travis fundraiser.

At Jon’s instructions, Ally had secreted mini tape-recorders in the den and several bedrooms as soon as she’d arrived at the country house. She had collected the recorders and all of the tapes before the night was over. The girls were always under orders to get their dates to talk about themselves, and this wasn’t the first time she’d brought tapes to Dupre. Though Jon had given her a bonus every time she helped him tape a client, he’d never told her what he did with the tapes, but she wasn’t stupid. Ally was certain that he used them for blackmail if the information was juicy enough. There had been a lot of very important people at Travis’s party.

Ally went back to the safe. The tapes from the fund-raiser were small, and it took her a while to find them. They were much more interesting than the sexcapades she’d viewed earlier.