Authors: Leonard B Scott
Bowlan looked at Eli with a worried frown. "Could it be a mob score?"
"Maybe," Eli said. "They've got crews that are capable of doing something like this. Trouble is, the mob is like the Latinos--they wouldn't have left anybody who could talk.
The other thing is, I don't think the wise guys would start war with the Latinos over ten or eleven million dollars-it's chicken feed. Plus the mob wouldn't use a woman on something like this; they're still into sexual discrimination. I think Ed hit on it when he said independents. The only trouble is, how'd they get the information about Mendez's laundry operation? They'd have to have an inside man."
"Or inside woman," Ashley added.
"What about locals?" Ed Faraday asked. "Could be the Yona guys weren't very discreet about having the player's money. Could be local cowboys found out about it and decided to make a lot of easy money."
"I don't think so, Detective," Bowlan said. "We've learned that Henry Cobb and Congressman Richards were very discreet about their secret dealings with Mendez.
Nobody else in the group nor anyone in their families knew about the money laundering. And I don't think locals would have attempted taking down eight armed men. This score was done by pros who planned and executed a near-perfect operation. The claymore mines tell us they even had a contingency plan. I'd say we've got an independent crew made up of four men and a woman who know what they're-"
Bowlan looked out the open door and growled. "Ahh shit, not now." He stormed out the door and barked, "Agent Hardy, stop that damn news crew vehicle! Sheriff Owens, what happened to your road guard? I told you not to let anybody into the crime scene area, damnit!"
Eli walked to the door just as the Channel 2 van door slid open. He wasn't surprised when Stacy Starr stepped out with a cameraman and a light man. She pointed and commanded, "Pan those shattered Suburbans and get those men seated on the ground, and get those bodies over there."
Stacy lifted a handheld mike as Agent Hardy approached her. "Can you tell us what happened here, Officer?" She jabbed the mike up toward his face.
Hardy stopped dead in his tracks, looking at the mike as if it were a pistol barrel. "Ma'am, get back in the van.
Hey, stop filming, you! Both of you get back-I said stop shooting!"
Bowlan stepped in front of the video camera, covering the lens with his hand. "You heard my agent. Get back into the van; this is an FBI crime scene."
Stacy held up the mike in front of him. "What happened here, Agent?"
"No comment. Please get back into the van this instant or I'll charge you with interfering with the investigation."
Stacy backed up but held up her mike. "Is this connected to the money missing from the Dahlonega bank?"
Bowlan's face tightened. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes, you do, Agent. We talked to the husband whose wife was arrested this morning at the bank. He said she called him and said she was in trouble because millions of dollars are missing from the bank. What is your response to that? Is this crime scene connected to that missing money?
Was the bank laundering that money, Agent?"
Hearing Stacy's barrage of questions, Eli approached and took hold of her arm. "Come on, Stacy, you know he can't respond to your questions. Please do as he says and get back into the van."
"Well, if it isn't Agent Tanner himself. Okay, Eli, we'll back off. I have enough for a spot anyway. Get in the van, John. . . . Eli, I talked to the assistant bank manager's wife.
She said her husband had told her he believed the dirty money was drug money from Miami. If it was drug money then I have to assume the e-mail I received was correct--it was a Cuban player who ordered the deaths of Senator Goodnight and all the others to cover his involvement with the Yona Group."
"I can't comment on that, Stacy."
"I have contacts in Miami, Eli. I'll find out in a matter of hours the most likely Cuban candidates capable of letting the contracts."
Eli stepped closer, pinning her with his eyes. "Stacy, you'll get yourself onto very dangerous ground if you start asking questions about those people. Listen to me, I know what I'm talking about. The players take it personally when anyone digs into their lives, and that goes double for the media. Some of your colleagues have tried before, but they all backed off when members of their teams began disappearing. The players don't mess around, and they don't warn you first."
Stacy patted his arm. "Thank you for the warning. I'll be careful." She walked back, got in the van, and commanded, "Back it out, Fred. John, keep shooting through the window."
Bowlan stepped up beside Eli as the van began backing up. "You know she'll do it anyway, don't you?"
"Yeah, she smells a Pulitzer in this one--I saw it in her eyes."
"I'll call the SAC and warn him she's not listening. A team will have to keep her shadowed."
Ashley heard the conversation and stepped closer. "Do you both really think she could get herself into danger by just talking to her contacts?"
Bowlan exchanged glances with Eli before responding.
"Agent Sutton, she doesn't understand who she's dealing with. Mendez and the others like him all survive because they're invisible to the public, and even to us for the most part. It's a very small and very sensitive community. They know when somebody starts asking questions. To answer your question more directly, if she pursues the leads she thinks she has, yes, she could be in great danger. I'm going to make that call to the SAC and brief him on what we found here and also warn him about Miss Starr."
Bowlan pulled a cell phone from his jacket pocket and was about to push the keys when an oncoming car's headlights blinded him. "Jesus Christ, now who's driving into my scene? Sheriff Owens!"
The small Ford stopped and four men got out. The tallest of the men growled, "Who's in charge here?"
Bowlan stepped forward. "Me, and who the hell are you?"
"Sanders, DEA. What have we got here?"
Bowlan shook his head. "This is my scene, so don't say we."
Ignoring Bowlan, Sanders slipped a minimag from his shirt pocket and, with the three other DEA agents, approached the prisoners. He nodded as soon as he shined his light into the first man's face. "You got yourself a Cuban crew here. This one is Inez and that one there is Palmia. Let's see . . . no, I don't make any of the others. They're not talking, correct?"
Bowlan made a shooing motion. "Go on and check the dead and wounded by the road and see if you can ID any of them. I've got a call to make to my SAC."
Sanders raised his chin. "Good. You can tell him we'll take over from here."
"What?"
"You heard me. The administration has the lead on player involvement. Don't worry, I'll cooperate fully with you, but I must insist you turn over the scene to me."
"Horseshit! Look, Sanders, you go look all you want but don't touch a damn thing. This is my scene and I call the shots."
Sanders glared at Bowlan as he took out his cell phone.
"We'll see about that," he said as he pushed at the keys.
Not to be outdone, Bowlan hurriedly did the same to his phone.
Eli backed away with Ashley and Faraday, then whispered, "This ought to be good, a turf fight over who gets the scene."
"Who's going to win?" Ashley asked.
"Possession gives us the advantage, but they have the drug players' cases. I'd say it's too close to call."
Three minutes later Bowlan's jaw muscles rippled as he lowered his phone in defeat. Sanders smiled broadly.
"Agent Bowlan, be so kind as to inform your people that I am now in charge of the scene. I'd like each of the agents and local officers who first arrived to meet me on that cabin porch so I can go over notes they may have taken. I also would like you to give me a quick rundown on what you think happened here."
Bowlan hissed, "I don't think. I know what happened here."
"Okay, what happened?"
"An unidentified crew of raiders made up of four men and possibly a woman snuck in and caught those eight over there off guard. Then the crew in the two Suburbans showed up, but the raiders were ready for them and blew claymores in an ambush and stopped them in their tracks. Then the raiders took the money and left."
Sanders's eyes widened. "A woman--and what money?"
Bowlan threw up his hands. "I knew it! I knew you damn guys didn't know. The money, Mr. DEA! The money from the Dahlonega bank . . . the money, like in eleven million in trunks."
"What are you talking about?"
"Shit," Bowlan said in disgust. "Agent Hardy, get over here and please tell the DEA what the hell is going on! I'm calling the SAC again. Agent Tanner, you and Detective Faraday keep me posted on the search for the raider's vehicle."
Left standing in the dark, Sanders barked, "Trunks of dirty money? Trunks? Did you say trunks?"
5:10 A. M.
Bonita held the flashlight as Ted moved the last rock in place to cover two of the trunks. He backed up from beneath the stone outcrop, wiping his hands on the back of his fatigues. "That ought to do it."
Bonita turned off the light. "Am I the reason the guys went off in different directions to hide their money--they don't trust me?"
"Naw, it was always the plan," Ted said. "Everybody is hiding their own money because if one of them is caught and made to talk, he can't tell where the rest is hidden."
Bonita looked into Ted's eyes. "But your money is here, Ted. I know where you've hidden it. What happens if they catch me?"
"You're not gettin' caught, Bonita. You'll be safe in Kansas. You got yourself two million dollars--I upped your split. Ramon has to drive back to Atlanta and turn in the rental truck. When he does, I'll have him stop and get you some big suitcases to hold your share. He'll also get you a good used car, then I want you to drive straight to Hutchinson and stay with Henry Duggin."
Bonita stepped closer to him. "Why did you bring me with you to hide your share?"
Ted leaned over and patted Baby's head. "Look, Bonita, I know I'm askin' a lot of you, but if I don't make it back, then--"
"I knew it. You wanted me to know where you hid it."
She sniffed back her tears.
"Ahh, Bo, don't start leakin' on me. If the op goes bad and I don't make it, wait a couple of months, then come back here and get the money. Send my sis a million--she's all the family I got. You can keep the rest--her no-good husband will just squander the money anyway."
Bonita turned her back to him to hide her tears. "You .. . you don't think you're coming back, do you?"
Ted put his arm around her shoulders. "Bo, I told ya I was good at what I do--I'm not plannin' on dyin'. I brought you up here as kind of an insurance policy. You never know what could happen. I just don't want the money rotting away if something goes wrong. Will ya do it for me?"
Bonita wiped the tears from her cheeks. "If something happens to you, I'll make sure your sister gets the money, but promise me you won't let anything happen--promise me you'll come back."
Ted walked her toward the nearby dirt road. "Sure, Bo, I promise. Come on, we've got to get back to the linkup site. I gave the guys an hour to hide their share and time is about up. Come on, lion hunter, you can't stay with my money.'
Ten minutes later Ted pulled off the highway onto a side road that led to a small park. Parking by the other team vehicles, he and Bonita got out and approached a picnic table where the rest of the team sat waiting.
Glenn stepped forward. "We're all good to go, Ted.
We've got all the weapons and gear packed in our vehicles, and the rental is clean and ready for turn-in. We wiped your Lincoln clean and ran it off into a ravine. . . . We're ready to roll."
"Where's Bonita's money?" Ted asked.
Ramon motioned to the two duffel bags beside him. "It's all here, Ted, two million."
"Load 'em in the rental," Ted said. "As you all know, it's only ten minutes to the interstate. We'll follow the plan with one exception. Ramon, when you drive the rental into Atlanta to turn it in, you'll also take Bonita and the hunter.
Stop at a store and get her some suitcases for the money, then help her pick out a good used car off a lot. Once she's on her way, turn in the truck and meet us at stop two of phase two. Anybody have any questions?"
Glenn looked into Bonita's eyes. "We're trusting you to be smart. If you get dumb with that money, we're all dead.
You understand?"
"She knows what's at stake, Glenn; back off," Ted growled.
Bonita's eyes misted as she returned Glenn's stare. "And I'm trusting you to take care of yourselves and bring Ted back in one piece."
Glenn held her gaze for a long moment before nodding.
"We're all making it back."
Ted put his arm around Bonita's shoulders and led her to the rental truck. "Be careful, Bo. Don't stop at any motels; rest at rest stops in the car. Once you get to Henry, follow his instructions to the letter. When he says you can go, cut and dye your hair, and dye the hunter too . . . make him look like a Labrador or something."
"Teddy, I want to see you again--I don't want it to end like this between us."