“Person, George,” Riggs interrupted. “There’s just one of him, but let me tell you, he’s a very special one.”
“Okay, so with Tyler’s help we nail him.”
“And what happens to LuAnn Tyler?”
Masters spread his hands helplessly. “Come on, Matt, she’s got a state murder warrant out. She hasn’t paid taxes for almost a decade. I have to assume she was in on the lottery scam. That all adds up to a few lifetimes in prison, but I’ll settle for just one, maybe half of one if she’s real cooperative, but I can’t guarantee it.”
Riggs stood up. “Well, guys, it was nice talking to you.”
Berman was up in an instant and he slid over to the door, blocking Riggs’s exit.
“Lou, I’ve still got one good arm, and the fist attached to it is just itching like hell to plant one right across your face.” Riggs started to advance menacingly toward the door.
“Wait a minute, just hold it. Both of you sit down,” Masters bellowed.
Riggs and Berman engaged in a suitably lengthy stare-down and then slowly returned to their seats.
Riggs stared over at Masters. “If you think the woman’s going to waltz in here so she can risk her life in order to bring this guy down and then be rewarded by spending the rest of her life in prison, then you’ve hung around the Bureau too long, George. Your brains are gone.”
Riggs pointed a finger at him. “Let me fill you in on something. It’s the game of life and it’s called ‘who’s got the leverage.’ You call up the state of Georgia and tell them that LuAnn Tyler is no longer wanted for murder there, or for anything else. If she’s got a friggin’ parking ticket outstanding, then it’s wiped out. You understand me? Squeaky clean. Then you call up the IRS and you tell them that she’ll pay what she owes, but they can forget jail time. As far as being involved in any lottery scam, if the statute of limitations hasn’t already expired, then that goes away too. The tiniest infraction that could possibly put her in jail for even a second gets blotted out. Gone. She’s a free person.”
“Are you nuts?” Berman said.
“Or?” Masters said quietly, his eyes fixed on Riggs.
“Or, we go public with everything, George. What does she have to lose? If she’s going to go to prison for life, then she’s going to have to have some hobbies to fill up her days. I’m thinking appearances on Sixty Minutes, Dateline, Prime Time Live, maybe even Oprah. A book deal would probably be in the cards too. She can just talk her little heart out about the lottery being fixed, how the president and the A.G. and the FBI director wanted to cover it all up to save their jobs and how they were stupid enough to let a master criminal who’s been wreaking worldwide havoc for years walk away so they could put a young woman who grew up dirt-poor in prison for doing something all of us would’ve done in an instant!”
Riggs sat back and looked at both men. “That, gentlemen, is what I mean by leverage.”
While Masters considered this, Berman snorted. “One guy? I don’t believe that. We’re looking at a big organization. No way could one person do all the stuff I’ve been seeing on my radar screen. We haven’t been able to prove anything, but we know there are multiple players.”
Riggs thought back to the cottage, right before the knife sliced into his arm. He had stared right into the most deadly pair of eyes he had ever seen. Over the years working undercover in some very dangerous situations, he had been scared before; he was only human after all. But he had never before felt the nervous terror those eyes had aroused in him. If he had had a crucifix handy, he would have pulled it out to ward the guy off.
He looked at Berman. “You know, Lou, you’d be surprised. This guy is a master of disguise. He can probably play enough roles to fill a Broadway musical. And by going it alone, he never has to worry about anyone turning snitch on him or trying to cut him out.”
Masters started speaking in low tones as he tried a different tack. “Remember, Matt, not so long ago, you were one of us. You might want to think about that. You’ve obviously gained Tyler’s confidence. You bring her in, well, let’s just say your government would be very grateful. No more sawing and hammering to make a living.”
“Let me think about that for a second, George.” Riggs closed his eyes, reopened them almost instantaneously, and said, “Go to hell.”
He and Masters locked eyes. “What do you say, George? Is it a deal? Or do I go and phone Oprah?”
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Masters nodded.
“I’d really love to hear you say it, George.”
Berman started to cut in, but Masters stared him into silence.
“Yes, it’s a deal,” Masters said, “no jail.”
“Georgia too?”
“Georgia too.”
“You sure you can do that? I know your authority is limited there.” Riggs’s tone was taunting.
“Mine is, but I don’t think the president of the United States has that same problem. My instructions are to avoid public exposure at all costs. I guarantee that either he or the A.G. will make that phone call.”
“Good, now get the director and the attorney general in here, because I want to hear the same things from them. By the way, is the president busy today?”
“There’s no way in hell the president is meeting with you.”
“Then get the director and the A.G. in here, George. Right now.”
“You don’t trust my word?”
“Let’s just say your track record hasn’t inspired my confidence all that much. And I take comfort in numbers.” He nodded at the phone. “Make the call.”
Masters and Riggs stared across at each other for at least a minute. Then Masters slowly picked up the phone and spoke into it at length. It took some schedule-juggling, but within thirty minutes the director of the FBI and the attorney general of the United States were sitting across from Riggs. Riggs presented the same deal to them he had presented to Masters, and he extracted the same promises.
Riggs rose. “Thank you for your cooperation.”
Berman got up too. “All right, if we’re working together now, bring Tyler in, we can wire her, get a team together, and go get this ‘one man crime wave.’ ”
“Uh-uh, Lou. The deal was I’d bring him in, not the FBI.”
Berman looked ready to explode. “Listen you—”
“Shut up, Lou!” The FBI director’s eyes bored into him and then he turned to look at Riggs. “You really think you can pull this off?”
Riggs smiled. “Have I ever let you guys down before?” He glanced over at Masters.
Masters didn’t return the smile, but just continued to study Riggs’s face. “If you don’t, all bets are off. For Tyler.” He paused and then added ominously, “And you. Your cover’s blown. And I’m not sure how much incentive we’d have to reestablish it. And your enemies are still plenty active.”
Riggs walked across the room to the door, but then turned back. “Well, George, I never really expected anything less from you guys. Oh, and don’t try to have me followed. That’ll just piss me off and waste a lot of time. Okay?”
Masters nodded quickly. “Sure, don’t sweat it.”
The big-voiced attorney general asked a final question. “Was the lottery fixed, Mr. Riggs?”
Riggs looked back at her. “You bet it was. And you want to know the kicker? It looks like the United States Lottery was used to finance the plans of one of the most dangerous psychopaths I’ve personally ever seen. I truly hope this never makes it onto the six o’clock news.” His eyes swept the room taking in the steadily rising panic in each of their faces. “Have a good day.” Riggs closed the door behind him.