They fell silent as a runner stopped on the sidewalk behind them and bent to retie her shoe.
Norbett watched her straighten up. “And there’s something else. I think Quinton and Brandon may have outsmarted themselves when they talked to Gage.”
“By saying…?”
Norbett waved a forefinger side to side in front of Anston. “You don’t get that either without a little money up front.”
Anston folded his arms across his chest, weighing the offer and breathing in the salt air. He hated dealing with snitches. Norbett might not have informed on him and Quinton in order to beat his last case, but he snitched on someone.
“How much?” Anston asked.
“Twenty-five thousand.”
“I thought Gage only gave you ten.”
Norbett jerked his thumb toward the multimillion-dollar condos spread along the Great Highway behind him.
“We’re in another period of irrational exuberance.”
Anston reached for his cell phone and punched in a number.
“Quinton, this is Anston. Transfer twenty-five grand to Norbett
… That’s what I said, to Norbett… No, not from Pegasus, you idiot, from one of your accounts, then reimburse yourself from Pegasus.”
Anston handed the phone to Norbett. “Give him your account details.”
Norbett read off the numbers from a slip of paper he’d withdrawn from his wallet, then disconnected.
“Sometimes that asshole doesn’t think,” Anston said. “Let’s walk.”
I didn’t tell Gage anything he couldn’t figure out for himself,” Norbett said, as they returned a half hour later to the same spot along the wall. “I kept pushing the insurance angle toward a dead end. And played dumb about Brandon Meyer. But it’s only a matter of time until he catches on.”
“What about the Jamaican woman? How do we know she won’t blabber what she told you to somebody else?”
Norbett raised his palms toward Anston. “Don’t touch her. I need her to keep an eye on Quinton. He doesn’t seem to realize how big this thing is and how hot it might get if it explodes. He may melt.”
“There won’t be time for that to happen. I have a plan to contain things. I’ll just need to move it along a little faster.”
A nston watched Norbett climb into a taxi to the airport in the Cliff House Restaurant parking lot overlooking Seal Rock. Seagulls fought over food wrappers blowing across the pavement, flailing and squawking and tumbling in the air. It gave him a feeling of revulsion, just like Norbett, the snitch who pretended he wasn’t, who pretended he’d protected Anston in his Miami debriefing, when he was only protecting himself.
Anston reached for his cell phone as the cab pulled away.
“You have somebody in the Caymans?”
“No,” Boots said, “not the Caymans. But I got a guy in Havana. An hour flight.”
“Our friend just leaned on me for money and I don’t want to have to keep paying him off for the rest of his natural life.”
“I take it the emphasis is on natural.”
“Exactly. I’ll tell you when.”
Chapter 78
Socorro piled her baggage at the front door, then walked into the den to retrieve a col-lection of DVDs to keep her company at Gage’s family ranch. She smiled to herself when she realized the stack was absurdly tall. She calculated how many she could stuff into the pockets of her carry-on and left the rest piled on top of the audio stand. Her cell phone rang as she zipped up the last compartment. It was Faith pulling up in front.
Socorro slid her bags onto the porch.
“This is some pretty raggedy luggage,” Faith said as she climbed the stairs.
“I know, but it’s hard to get rid of. It’s been too many places.” Socorro pointed at the torn security tapes from a dozen countries crisscrossing the locks of the hard-sided Samsonite. “There’s one from China right on top of the one from Taiwan.” She smiled at Faith. “I think some Chinese customs agent was trying to make a political statement.”
“It’s not much of one unless your bag passes through Taiwan again and the Chinese get a look at it.”
“Not likely. We only went there because Charlie had some people to talk to. It was one of Anston’s super secret missions. They paid for me to go along to make it appear we were just a couple on vacation. I think I was the cloak while he was the dagger. I still don’t have a clue what we were doing over there.” She paused and shook her head. “They say marriage is about communication, but Charlie always practiced radio silence.”
Faith grabbed the suitcase, gave it a tug, and then added a second hand to lift it from the landing.
“Jeez,” Faith said. “How long are you going for?”
“Why don’t you take the carry-on? I’ll get that.”
Faith shook her head as she lurched down the steps. After reaching the bottom, she extended the handle and let the wheels carry the load down the walkway to her SUV. Socorro followed with the rest and helped Faith hoist the suitcase into the back. Faith glanced at the bulging carry-on as Socorro set it inside.
“That thing is about to burst,” Faith said. “I’m not sure you’ll be able to fit it into the overhead compartment.”
Socorro locked her hands on her hips as she examined the lump of luggage.
“I’ll cross that bridge later.”
W hen are the kids arriving in Nogales?” Faith asked as they drove south past the Opera House toward the freeway.
“They have a wedding to attend on Sunday. They’ll fly out afterward and stay through the week.”
“How are they adjusting?”
“Charlie Junior seems to be doing okay. Sandy is… I really don’t know how Sandy is. She’s been… I guess the word is erratic. Sometimes she treats me like I’m really fragile and she seems afraid she’ll say or do something that’ll upset me. Other times, she becomes as demanding as a drill sergeant.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“It didn’t start until a week or two after Charlie died. She called early one morning, maybe five o’clock, asking if I was okay and if the dog was okay and then ordering me to go around the house to make sure the doors were locked. She even tried to order me- order me-to get an alarm system.”
“Did you ask her what prompted the call?”
“She said she had a bad dream.”
F aith headed toward short-term parking lot after following the sweeping flyway onto the San Francisco Airport grounds.
Socorro looked toward Faith. “You don’t need to come in.”
“It’ll take you an hour to check your luggage and get up to the security checkpoint. I’ll keep you company.”
They found a parking spot and took the elevator down to the departure level of the domestic terminal. Check-in moved fast enough for them to have time for a cup of coffee before Socorro needed to join the security line.
“Are you thinking about writing again?” Faith asked, after they sat down at a table.
“I only have one book left in print. I don’t even know what the children’s market is like now. I’m not even sure I know how to speak their language anymore.”
Faith smiled to herself as she remembered proofreading the first of Socorro’s “Oops” series of children’s books about a little girl who wiggled her way out of one jam after another, but learned a moral lesson each time.
