"You picked a winner," Rathbone said to Rita. "I wonder why this place isn't mobbed."
"No chrome, no plastic, no chili dogs or french fries. By the way, he also makes the world's best frozen daiquiri."
"For dessert," David said.
They sat sprawled for almost an hour after they had finished lunch and the table had been cleared.
It was getting close to three o'clock, and the bartender had disappeared into the kitchen. There were occasional muted sounds from the lobby and outdoors, but quiet engulfed the room, and they spoke in hushed voices, not wanting to shatter the spell.
"About our being rich," David said, "I meant it. I have two deals in the works that are shaping up as winners, plus my investment service. I figure to give it another year and cash in."
"And then?"
"Off we go, into the wild blue yonder."
"Both of us?"
He lifted her hand, kissed her fingertips. "Yes," he said. "Both of us."
"You won't have to hustle anymore?"
"Not if the payoff is as big as I figure. I don't mean we'll be able to light our cigarettes with hundred-dollar bills, but we'll be able to live very comfortably indeed. We won't have to count pennies."
"You'll really take me with you?"
He kissed the palm of her hand. "You remember the morning after our first night together?"
"When you told me to move in?"
"Right. I said it was love at first sight. You thought I was conning you, and maybe I was. Then. But I'm not conning you now. I love you, Rita. More than that, I need you. You're the most important thing in my life."
"That's heavy," she said.
"It's the truth. It's why I'm getting into these new deals. To make enough for both of us to have the good life. You like all the perks that money can buy. So do I. Neither of us wants to live like a peasant."
She looked down at their linked hands. "You're right," she said in a low voice. "I've never had as much as you've given me. Have I ever said, Thank you'? I'll say it now: Thank you."
"You don't have to thank me. I don't want your gratitude; I want your love. And besides, you've paid me back just by being there when I need you. Did I tell you I'm addicted to you? Well, I am. But what about you? I've never really asked if you'd be willing to spend the rest of your life with me. It would mean leaving the country and probably never coming back. Could you do that?"
She gave him a twisted smile. "I don't know. When you talked before about cashing in and taking off, I thought that's all it was-talk. But now you're serious, aren't you?"
He nodded.
"I don't have to give you an answer right now, do I, David?"
"No, of course not. Maybe my deals will go sour. And then I'll have to change my plans. Or postpone them. But you'll think about it?"
"Yes," she said, "I will."
"Good. Now let's go home."
"Are we going to the Palace tonight?"
"I'd rather not," he said. "Let's spend it together. Just the two of us."
"I'd like that," she said.
31
Anthony Harker's office was jammed. He had brought in folding chairs so his crew had a place to sit, but it was shoulder-to-shoulder and everyone was smoking up a storm. The air conditioning wasn't coping. But Harker wasn't having an allergic reaction.
"Okay," he said, "here's what we've got. Roger, we'll start with you. That stuff in Frank Little's baseball tested out as high-grade cocaine."
"Thought it might," Fortescue said.
"You figure he's importing and selling?"
"I'd guess not. I think he's just a trafficker. His customers make their own buys. The stuff comes to Little's warehouse in baseballs from Haiti, and the dealers pick it up there. It's like a distribution center. He charges a fee for providing a service. But he's not pushing the stuff himself."
"That reads," Harker said, nodding. "I've persuaded Mr. Crockett to hold off raiding the warehouse until we learn more about Little's operation. If we get called for stalling the raid, we can always say we were trying to track the source and the guys making the pickups-which is the truth."
"That would take an army of narcs," Fortescue said.
"Maybe not," Tony said. "We're trying to get more bodies assigned to us. They'll tail those vans and trucks you spotted to their eventual destinations. It looks to be a big, well-organized distribution system, and we'll hold off busting the warehouse until we know the identity of Little's customers."
"That coke I found in Mike Mulligan's toilet," Henry Ullman said, "you figure it came from Frank Little's baseballs?"
"The lab says no," Harker said. "It was high-grade cocaine all right but had a different chemical signature-whatever that is-from the stuff Fortescue found. Henry, you think Mike Mulligan is snorting?"
"I don't think so. I've become close pals with the guy and he shows no signs of it. He loves the sauce, but I think he just uses the coke to get women. Some of them are young and attractive, too. He pays off with the dust, and it's party time every Saturday night."
"Where's he getting it? Does he buy it?"
"I doubt it. Not in that quantity. If he was paying for it, he'd have been dead broke a long time ago. According to your snitch, David Rathbone said that James Bartlett claimed Mulligan was on the pad. How's this for a scenario: Bartlett is laundering drug money through the Crescent Bank, and Mike Mulligan is his contact. Mulligan is a bank officer; he could fiddle the deal. And Bartlett pays him off with coke."
"That's possible," Tony said. "Likely, in fact. You know, we started out tracking a gang of con men and swindlers, and now it's beginning to look like they're up to their ass in dope. Suarez, Clark, have you heard anything about Coe or Sparco pushing any kind of drugs?"
"Not me," Manny Suarez said. "Coe smokes a joint now and then, but all he's pushing right now is that crazy commodity fund."
"The same with Sparco," Simon Clark said. "He's selling shares in the Fund like there's no tomorrow. I checked all my contacts in Chicago, and no one in the commodity pits ever heard of the Fort Knox Fund and there's no record of any trades under that name."
Harker sighed. "All right," he said, "just keep on doing what you're doing, but try to dig a little deeper. That Fund may be an out-and-out fraud or it may be a front for something bigger. I think it is, but can't pin it down. That's all for now."
They rose and began folding chairs so they could get out of the office.
"Wait a minute," Tony said. "I want the four of you to take a look at something and tell me if it means anything to you."
He opened his desk drawer, took out copies of the lists Rita Sullivan had fished from David Rathbone's wastebasket. He handed them to Ullman.
Henry read them, shook his head. "They don't make any sense to me," he said, and handed them to Suarez.
Manny read them over twice. "Nada, "he said. "Just words." He passed them along to Clark.
Simon scanned them quickly, shook his head, gave them to Fortescue.
Roger read them, shrugged, returned them to Harker. "Means nothing," he said. "Just-" He stopped suddenly. "Wait a minute. Let me have another look." He took the lists back from Tony and studied them again. "Uh-huh," he said, grinning. "Five words beginning with C, five with H, five with M. C, H, M. Put them all together and they don't spell Mother. But they could be code words for cocaine, heroin, and marijuana."
Harker stared at him, then took a deep breath. "Thank you very much," he said.
After they left, Tony called Lester Crockett's secretary. "Five minutes," he said. "That's all I need." "Hang on a moment," she said. "I'll check with him."
He waited, took his inhaler out of his shirt pocket, tossed it into the bottom desk drawer.
She came back on. "All right, Mr. Harker," she said. "Five minutes. Right now."