Under the Color of Law Page 24

  "She would only talk about them if I asked, and for a long time I avoided the subject. She had what she called her one-love-at-a time rule. As far as I know she never deviated from it, no matter if the affair lasted a week or a year. Occasionally a lover would filter back into her life, but most were permanently banished. I think, in her own way, she was looking for the perfect mate to match her."

  "You know this as fact?" Sara asked.

  Straley nodded. "After years of arguing she forced the issue with me. We spent an entire night staying up and talking right here in this room over a bottle of Scotch. She wanted me to understand why she lived as she did."

  "What did you learn?" Sara asked.

  "That she saw no reason not to find pleasure with men. That few could match her as equals. That she had no desire to be possessed or owned. She firmly believed she could live by her own rules."

  "Was she faithful to the ambassador?" Kerney inquired.

  "Until the point of their separation, I'd say yes."

  "What caused the break?" Sara asked.

  "She never said, but it came suddenly. I assume Hamilton tried to dominate or control her, which was something that wouldn't do with Phyllis. After all, he had spent many years in the military as a high ranking officer and was used to being in command. Starting out, I think Phyllis may have been drawn to the qualities of leadership she saw in Hamilton. Perhaps she felt she'd found that perfect match," Sara asked questions about the ambassador's personal qualities. Straley sketched Terrell as confident, mature, responsible, and even tempered. He noted that Terrell had been aware of Phyllis's reputation, appeared unconcerned about it, and seemed very much in love with her.

  It wasn't a portrait of the bullying, self-serving officer Kerney remembered from Vietnam. Either Straley wasn't as sharp as he seemed, or Terrell had done one hell of an acting job.

  Kerney approached the issue from a different angle. "How did Terrell wind up on the Trade Source board of directors?"

  "I recommended him at his request," Straley said. "He was between diplomatic appointments at the time, and with his government and military background I thought he could serve the corporation well."

  "In what ways?" Kerney asked.

  "Trade Source was founded as a venture capital company looking to expand into South American media, publishing, print, and television markets. The Hispanic population is burgeoning, becoming more sophisticated, especially in large South American cities. That caught my interest as an investor. In Hamilton's prior diplomatic postings he'd worked closely with foreign officials who could open doors to overseas investors. We wanted to make sure each entry into a foreign market would have strong local appeal."

  Sara picked up the thread. "From what I've learned, Trade Source doesn't have a strong media focus

  anymore," she said.

  "Which is why I left the board," Straley said. "I'm a media man, always have been. Newspapers, magazines, television, the Internet, and radio stations interest me. That's where my corporate expansion goals lie."

  "Why did Trade Source veer off in a different direction?" Sara asked.

  "Hamilton brought a proposal to the board that had the strong backing of the Commerce, Treasury, and State Departments. They were interested in helping developing nations in South America establish a banking and financial technological infrastructure without using foreign aid appropriations. Trade Source was asked to provide the venture capital, identify subcontractors, and oversee the initiative under a memorandum of understanding that guaranteed reimbursement for all costs plus an equitable profit margin. I opposed it."

  "Why?"

  "It wasn't where I wanted the company to go, and I didn't think we had the resources to take on two major corporate initiatives simultaneously."

  "How did it play out?" Kerney asked.

  "Hamilton arranged important meetings between Trade Source corporate officers and ranking financial leaders and money managers in Peru, Venezuela, and Ecuador. Ultimately, Trade Source signed contracts to supply hardware and software products, plus provide technical assistance

  and training."

  "Was Trade Source acting as an agent for a U. S. Government foreign aid package?"

  Kerney asked.

  "You could look at it that way," Straley replied, "but it wouldn't be accurate. Using privatization strategies to achieve government goals has become commonplace on the federal level."

  "Why did Trade Source buy APT Performa?" Kerney asked.

  "As I understand it, that was done based on Hamilton's recommendation. I was off the board by then, but I heard that APT Per forma had exactly what was needed to begin putting the necessary systems together."

  "Do you know Clarence Thayer?" Kerney asked.

  "Only by reputation. I understand he runs a tight ship and knows his business."

  "What about SWAMI?" Kerney asked.

  "That's another issue entirely. As I understand it, Thayer sold the company but kept the rights of certain proprietary inventions. SWAMI was one of those. It was at an early stage of development at the time and not much was made of it. From what I've read recently it's about to make Thayer and his outside investors very rich men."

  "Do you know anything about Terrell's personal finances?" Sara asked.

  "Hamilton lives comfortably," Straley said. "He's not rich by any means, although I know he'd like to be."

  "What if he's found a way to become rich?"

  Straley gave Sara a studied look. "Are you suggesting Hamilton may have held back what he knew about SWAMI from the board for a piece of the action from APT Performa?"

  "Why not?" Sara replied. "A technological breakthrough like SWAMI is almost priceless. Granted, Terrell would have eventually made some profits through the stock he held as a board member if Trade Source had secured the rights to SWAMI. But what if he cut a sweetheart deal with Thayer to keep SWAMI off the negotiating table for a bigger piece of the pie?"

  Straley cocked his head. "Hamilton has always wanted to be a major money player."

  "Think about it," Sara said. "Terrell brought the APT Performa proposal to the Trade Source board, made the arrangements to bring various federal agencies to the table, and coordinated meetings with South American financial representatives. Did he do it solely for patriotic reasons?"

  "I doubt it," Straley said, holding up a hand to stop further questions. "But what does any of this have to do with your contention that Scott Gatlin may not have murdered my daughter?"

  "We think your daughter was killed because of what she knew," Kerney said, "not because of who she slept with. We believe she learned secrets about her husband's activities that may be directly related to Trade Source, APT Performa, and the SWAMI project."

  "What do you think she knew?" Straley asked.

  "First, let me give you some facts," Kerney said. He highlighted the major points, concentrating on the FBI cover-up of Phyllis Terrell's murder, her connection to. Father Mitchell, the priest's probe into intelligence operations in South America, and Hamilton Terrell's involvement in the coverup.

  "These facts are fully documented?" Straley asked when Kerney stopped talking.

  "They are."

  "So, what did my daughter learn that got her killed?"

  "That, we don't know," Kerney said. "But, one way or another it directly relates to your son-in-law."

  "If it's a government secret, you're never going to know," Straley said. "Are you willing to share your documentation with me?"

  "This isn't a news story, Mr. Straley," Sara said.

  Straley looked at Sara straight on. "I know how the government can manipulate the media under the guise of national security to suit its own purposes, young lady. I have no intention of falling into that trap. But I want to look at your facts for myself before I decide what to do."

  "What can you do?" Kerney asked.

  "If Terrell played an active role in causing my daughter's death, as you've suggested, I will find a way to poison his reputation. Sometimes innuendo
can ruin a career just as quickly as a front-page scandal headline."

  "Perhaps something will show up in your mailbox from an anonymous source," Kerney said as he stood up.

  "I'll keep my eye out for it, Chief Kerney."

  * * *

  Until Kerney and Sara Brannon left Santa Fe, Applewhite had worried about finding the right killing field. Since the hit had to be staged, icing Kerney at home wouldn't do. No matter how well orchestrated, neighbors might see things, remember little details, especially on a weekend, when people were at home.

  Applewhite went high-speed mobile down the Interstate in Charlie Perry's car, putting the details into play on the radio. She had Charlie airborne. The pilot had instructions to maintain a holding pattern once he was in range. The men tailing Kerney were in Ramah, ten kilometers away from Proctor Straley's ranch, ready to follow Kerney as soon as he moved. She punched up images on her onboard laptop that gave her satellite visuals of the terrain, roads, vehicles, and structures along Kerney's route. The area was bracketed by National Forest, Indian land, and the malpais, and had few permanent residents. A winter storm in the mountains had brought local traffic to a standstill.

  Storm clouds masked a portion of the satellite visuals. Applewhite switched to a Global Positioning System that highlighted topography of the area. Defined by a prominent ridgeline, the uplift ran for a good sixty miles. A state road cut through it at the Continental Divide, dropped out of the mountains, and ran straight west for about fifteen miles through canyons, mesas, and frontage pasture land. The stretch of road would do nicely for a killing field.

  Charlie's luggage was in the trunk, along with a wad of greenbacks and a bank confirmation of a six-figure deposit in an offshore account. The money could easily be traced back to Enrique De Leon The fast-moving storm slammed into her east of Grants. She fought her way through it, breaking into sunshine and a slushy pavement. The chopper pilot radioed a diversion around the storm. She caught the turnoff to Ramah through the badlands just as the helicopter reported a twenty-minute ETA.

  Past the village of San Rafael the highway was snow packed with no traffic. As she entered the Zuni Mountains the road turned to snow-covered ice.

  The chopper came into view out of the southwest. Applewhite asked for an LZ location. The pilot radioed he could off load at a clearing near the road to Paxton Springs.

  "Give me a visual on traffic," Applewhite said.

  "There's one four-by-four behind you, eight clicks back," the pilot

  replied.

  "Nothing's coming at you for a good twelve clicks, and it's slow moving all the way. The LZ is behind tree cover and out of sight from the highway."

  "Copy that," Applewhite said.

  She plowed off the pavement at the Paxton Springs turnoff through eight inches of snow, and bumped her way to the waiting chopper. The wash of the slow-moving propeller blades dusted snow off the tall pine trees, creating eddies that puffed and then disappeared in the wind. Applewhite gave the pilot orders while two men in fatigues loaded a drugged, rubbery Charlie Perry into the backseat of the car. The pilot nodded, put a hand to his headset, and said, "The target is moving."

  "Let's do it," Applewhite replied.

  ***

  Bobby Sloan lost sight of Applewhite on the curves through the mountains. When she'd switched to Perry's car in the APT Performa parking lot, he'd been forced to maintain visual contact. He put the Bronco into low four-wheel drive and pushed it to the max to make up ground. Wheels spun snow and tires whined as he hit ice. He pointed the Bronco down the middle of the road, fishtailing through curves, downshifting on short straightaways, until he made it through the pass and had a clean line of sight down the empty road. Nothing. Where the hell was she? She couldn't have been moving that fast. With no homing devices on Charlie Perry's car, he had no way to track her.

  A helicopter came out of the mountains, flying low, gaining altitude, moving toward Ramah. It changed course, came straight back at him, and flew overhead. He watched in the rearview mirror as it cleared the mountain and disappeared from view.

  He slowed, made a cautious U-turn, and went looking for Applewhite.

  She had to be somewhere behind him. But where? He crawled along at ten miles an hour looking for car tracks off the road. At the Paxton Springs turnoff Applewhite's car almost sideswiped the Bronco as she slid onto the highway. She careened by, steering into a slight spin before straightening the wheels.

  Bobby took a quick look, ducked his head, and kept moving in the opposite direction. When she was out of sight he pulled to the side of the road. Applewhite had left Santa Fe alone, of that Sloan was certain. But he was just as certain he'd seen a head bob up in the backseat when she passed him.

  He swung the Bronco around, hoping he hadn't been made, wondering what in the hell was going on.

  ***

  The tape across his mouth didn't keep Charlie Perry from giggling. Although the blindfold kept him from seeing things, the helicopter ride had been exciting. For a while they'd gone up and down like a bumpy roller coaster with the blades thud, thud, thudding, and the wind swoosh, swoosh, swooshing outside. It had been lots of fun. Now he was swishing along in a car. This was better than Disneyland, where his father had taken a picture of him pulling Donald Duck's tail.

  Charlie tried to grin. The tape across his mouth made it impossible, his ankles and wrists were hurting a little bit, and he wished someone would take the blindfold off. He wondered if he'd done something bad, and what was going to happen next.

  ***

  Muddy slush from the ranch road splatted the truck windshield. Kerney turned on the wipers while Sara weighed in with her take on the Straley interview. Hamilton Terrell had been the point man for the operation since day one. He'd married Phyllis Terrell to position himself favorably with Proctor Straley, and then used Straley to wangle his way onto the Trade Source board. After that it had been just a matter of swaying the board with the promise of a lot of easy money from the public coffers.

  Kerney agreed it had all been a setup to mask SWAMI and set the stage for Terrell's secret trade mission. Both had to be tied together, otherwise all the killing made no sense. But proving anything still remained highly remote, getting to Terrell wouldn't be easy, and time was running out.

  Most of the tire tracks on the snow-covered road gave out when they reached the Pine Hill Navajo Reservation cutoff. They passed the snow-tinged butte of El Moro National Monument. The powerful, beautiful presence of it made Sara want to stop and play tourist. She wistfully thought about asking Kerney to bring her down on a weekend jaunt, and quickly nixed the idea. There might be no weekend jaunts with Kerney if she didn't stay alert and focused.

  The vehicle tracking Kerney reported in. He had a five-minute ETA to Applewhite's location. She asked about road traffic. No vehicles other than Kerney's were traveling east. She told the surveillance driver to keep it that way.

  Applewhite had spotted Detective Sloan when she'd passed him at the Paxton Springs cutoff. She got confirmation from the chopper pilot that she was still being followed.

  "Keep him out of my zone."

  "Affirmative," the pilot said. "Are you authorizing deadly force?"

  "Do whatever it takes," Applewhite said, as she eased to a stop along a straight stretch of road.

  "Is anything else moving toward me?"

  "Negative," the pilot said.

  "Close the road behind me," she said.

  Applewhite staged a one-car accident. She drove the car at an angle off the road, turning the wheels to put it into a skid. She backed up and adjusted the car's position so that a raised front hood would keep Kerney from seeing in as he approached. She pulled Perry out of the backseat, put him behind the steering wheel, took off the blindfold, ripped the tape from his mouth, locked him inside the vehicle, and popped the hood.

  Charlie gave her an insipid smile through the car window. She got a rifle and ammunition out of the trunk, moved over a fence into tree cover, and wai
ted.

  The cop in Kerney would force him to stop and investigate.

  Taking him out would be another enjoyable hit. But the prospect of whacking Sara Brannon made Applewhite break into a big smile.

  Bobby Sloan saw the helicopter land on the pavement and went cross-country through the trees to get around it. He caught a glimpse of the pilot watching him and talking rapidly into his headset as he bounced by. He ground the Bronco through a snowbank to get back on the road and the front wheels bottomed out in a ditch. He slammed the gearbox into reverse and the back tires screamed as he inched his way out.

  Just as the rear wheels gripped solid, Sloan heard the chopper. He geared into low, took the ditch at an angle, and spun rubber down the road. Before he could make the curve, the chopper dropped down sideways in front of him. The door on the chopper slid open, and the windshield exploded in Sloan's face as he took fire. He felt a nick on his neck as he gunned the Bronco back into the trees. The back window blew out and he could hear rounds slamming into the tailgate. He redlined the engine, bounced off a tree, topped a rise, and barreled down to the highway.

  He could see Applewhite's car in the distance and the tiny outline of a vehicle coming from the opposite direction. He downshifted and waited for the chopper to come at him again. Cold air whistled through the vehicle, freezing his face as he punched the accelerator. He felt tired, woozy, unable to focus. He looked down and saw his blood-soaked shirt. He put his hand up to his neck and felt wet spurts as his heart pumped his arteries empty.

  Realizing he was a dead man, he tried to squeeze the wound closed anyway. His foot found the brake and the Bronco did a quick three-sixty before tilting on its side and spinning into a tree. Just before impact Bobby Sloan passed out.

  ***

  Kerney saw the stranded car two hundred yards ahead and slowed. He touched the brake, scanned the vehicle for damage, and couldn't see any.

  "What do you think?" he asked Sara.

  "I can't tell from here."

  He caught a flash of light at the edge of some trees off the south side of the road. He touched the brake again.