Neuman was slowly shaking his head.
“Then these… people… you’ve got tailing Burtell,” Paula said. “They’re… a pretty high-powered operation.”
Graver nodded. Paula just looked at him. She was considerably sobered by what she had just heard, the way that people are sobered when they realize that they were mistaken about what it was, exactly, out there in the dark. She glanced once more at Lara as though Lara, too, now took on a significantly new dimension.
“What are you going to do, then?” Neuman asked. “What do we do now?”
“We keep moving,” Graver said. “I’m convinced that Kalatis is the core of this. Dean obviously knows him, knows him well enough to discuss him with the man at the fountain. With Kalatis’s Mossad background, we’d be fools not to go after him, not to make the assumption that he’s the heart of this operation. I think Dean’s involved with him”-Graver glanced fleetingly at Lara-”but I’m beginning to have my doubts about exactly how Dean might be involved. From here on I want everything we do to be directed toward one end: working our way to Kalatis.”
Neuman’s eagerness to take some of the weight of guilt off Burtell’s shoulders was obvious.
“Then you think Dean’s being-”
“I don’t know what’s happening,” Graver cut him of impatiently. “But I do think you were right, Casey, about picking up Valerie Heath. We’ve got to do it; we’ve got to talk to her. Right now she’s the only opening we have if we’re going to try this without showing our hand, without confronting Dean.”
“Then what?” Paula asked. “What are you going to do with her? We can’t arrest her, and once we pick her up we can’t let her go. There’s too much risk.”
“Lara’s going to stay with her.”
Paula gaped. “Where?”
“At my place.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Graver.”
“I don’t see any other way,” he said. “We’ve got to keep an eye on her, for her protection and ours.”
“Fine, but what about a motel?”
“We don’t have the budget for something like that or the means of providing any kind of protection without drawing attention. If we can get her to my place without anyone knowing it would be easier. Meals wouldn’t be a problem there, and at night there’ll be two of us to take turns.”
“Do you think she’ll actually be in danger?” Paula blurted.
“I have to think so.”
“What about Lara, then?”
“What do you want me to do, Paula?” Graver was getting tired of her questions, and that she insisted on concentrating on the downside. “You come up with a better solution.”
“When do you want to pick her up?” Neuman interjected a more practical question.
“Now,” Graver said. “I’ll go with you.” He reached into his coat pocket and took his house key off the car key chain. He handed it across to Lara.
“Go home and get some clothes,” he said. “Get something comfortable, something for several days. On your way to my place go by a grocery.” He took out his wallet and handed her all the money he had. “I keep a pretty bare pantry. Get enough for several people for several days. Paula, you go with her. When you get there, pull your car into one of the two garages and close the door so it can’t be seen from the street When Casey and I get there with Heath, we’ll talk about what to do next A lot will depend on what we learn from her.”
He stood up. “Keep your radio handy. If my surveillance people are right, Burtell will take another trip tonight. We need to be in touch with each other every minute. Okay?”
They all stood. Lara hadn’t said a word.
Chapter 45
8:20 P.M.
Before leaving the city Graver got a search warrant from a judge he could trust to keep the issuance quiet, and Neuman maneuvered their unmarked car onto the Gulf Freeway into the sluggish flow of traffic that bled from downtown for several hours every evening.
Graver sat quietly on the passenger side watching the traffic, the congestion seeming to be an appropriate metaphor for the state of his mind at the moment. He kept going over and over the frayed ends of the developing investigation. It would have been difficult enough to conduct this kind of operation with the full knowledge of the administration and a full complement of investigators working with his own technical people. Difficult enough. But this covert effort with only two investigators and out-of-office technical support-regardless of how good they were-was an invitation to disaster. Having minimal control and keeping only a modicum of compartmentalization was very nearly counterproductive. He felt like he was hanging on by the tips of his fingers.
He brooded over this for half an hour in silence and then gave it up and turned his mind to the immediate task at hand. He took the Key Map out of the glove box and opened it to the harbor complex where Valerie Heath lived.
“You said she had a docking slip behind her place?” he asked Neuman.
“Yeah, one of those canals. It’s a pretty narrow inlet Two cabin-type boats could pass in there, but it would be close.” Neuman reached over and pointed to the map. “I put a little dot where she lives. Ballpoint A blue dot’
“Yeah, okay. Here it is.” Graver studied the layout of streets and docks and slips and inlets. He knew the area. It was not inexpensive real estate. “The street in front of her place is a cul-de-sac.”
“Yeah. She lives about four, five houses from the circle.”
“So eight to ten houses have a good view of the front of her place,” Graver asked.
“That’s right.”
“Describe the place to me, the inside.”
As Neuman did this Graver listened, asked a few questions, verbally playing back the description to him as though he was looking in from the canal side. When he was satisfied, he fell silent again.
They took the 518 exit off the freeway and continued to Marina Bay Boulevard which they followed around toward the coast until they began seeing the entrances to the marinas and yacht clubs. Neuman slowed when he came to the long street that ran out onto the peninsula where Heath lived. It was late in the afternoon by now and the sun was low above Houston behind them, and the shadows were lengthening in front of them.
“Just go in far enough to see if her car is parked in front,” Graver said. “If it is, turn around and come back out.”
Neuman nodded and turned in to the street They didn’t have to go far before they saw the black Corvette.
“There it is,” Neuman said.
“Okay,” Graver said. “This is perfect We’re lucky. I know someone near here who’s got a boat.”
Neuman looked at Graver but said nothing as Graver gave him directions. Within fifteen minutes they were pulling up in front of another house with boat slips in the rear. It was miles away from Heath’s by land, but by water it was just a few minutes. The houses here were considerably more modest than those in Heath’s neighborhood. There were more banana trees here than palms, and the oily smell of the shipyards nearby permeated the still air. An occasional camper or fishing skiff was parked here and there under the rows of shaggy oleanders that separated the houses, and the driveways here were made of crushed mussel shells from the bay instead of smooth paving stones.
Graver directed Neuman into a driveway and the crunching of the tires on the shell base made a comfortable sound in the late heat and softening light of the afternoon. The garage in front of the car had been converted into living quarters and the crushed shell ran dead into the wall. An enormous outboard motor lay across two weathered sawhorses in front of the car. Neuman cut the motor, and Graver got out and walked between the car and the outboard motor to the front door that was shaded by an old mimosa that bloomed as brilliantly as if it had graced a palace garden.
Graver knocked on the frame of the screen door and heard a parrot screech somewhere in the dark interior. He heard footsteps coming, heard them pause, then quicken as they approached the front door.