FORTY-SIX
Late that night a new storm out of the Gulf of Alaska arrived and this one lived up to the hype. When the phone rang at 3:00 a.m. Raveneau automatically reached for it as he had so many years when he was on-call. But it was the alarm company calling for Celeste to tell her the power was out. It was out here too and on the roof the cold rain blew sideways and he didn’t see any lights on south of Market Street.
By 5:3 °Celeste was anxious to get to the bar, worried about food spoiling with the small walk-in and the refrigerators down. The power was still on where her chef, Bo, lived and she wanted to get crab meat and a few of the more delicate things over to his refrigerator. Raveneau drove with her and loaded the food in the back of his car. It was raining so hard he barely heard his cell ringing when he got in his car.
‘Is that rain?’ Coe asked.
‘It is.’
‘Well, that’s not good. Drury wants to talk to you. I want to get you on a flight this morning out of SFO. I’ll be going with you.’
‘Going where?’
‘Colorado. He’s at ADX Florence.’
‘What plane is going to take off in this weather? SFO will be backed up for hours.’
‘We’ll get out on the corporate side. How are you with turbulence?’
‘Oh, I love bouncing around in the air not knowing if the plane is going to come apart. That’s my idea of fun.’
It was anything but fun when they crossed over the Sierras. Underneath them, the interstate was closed, not even the snow plow drivers were out. As they crossed into Nevada the plane dropped suddenly and way too long for Raveneau. He heard the engines power-up, and the long fall ended in plane-shuddering turbulence that slammed the jet sideways, and wrenched his gut. He thought anyone who didn’t notice these storms were getting more intense wasn’t paying attention.
An hour and forty minutes later they were on the ground in a black Suburban eating sandwiches and crossing flat plain covered in snow, rolling toward what Coe jokingly called San Francisco’s sister prison because of its nickname ‘Alcatraz of the Rockies.’ The Unabomber was here. So was the ‘Shoe Bomber,’ and Timothy McVeigh before his ticket got punched. Ramzi Yousef had a cell, and others.
Drury was in solitary. Raveneau slowly ate the turkey sandwich and thought about that.
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ Coe said. ‘You’re thinking the FBI has too much money.’
‘Why is Drury all the way out here?’
‘He’s out here because I really don’t know where the threat to him might come from. Weren’t you the one who said he might be our one link?’
When they turned off Highway 67 Raveneau looked from the guard posts to the snowy mountains beyond. They went through the gate and then it took awhile before Raveneau sat down with Drury.
When he did, Drury was sullen and angry. He was disconnected. His answers came sporadically and he looked away purposefully. Contempt radiated from his eyes. He was nothing like the social animal Raveneau saw at the bar in San Leandro and that wasn’t all that long ago.
‘Do you know where you are, John?’
‘Prison.’
‘But do you know where?’
‘I don’t fucking care where.’
‘You’re in a supermax in Colorado.’
Drury rattled his shackles and spittle worked its way to the corners of his lips.
‘I’m here because I made a deal with scuzzbag liars.’
‘You didn’t keep up your end.’
‘Fuck you, man.’
‘I went back to the cabinet shop; I’ve figured some things I want to talk with you about it.’ Raveneau waved his hand slowly at the walls of the room. ‘But, I agree, you don’t belong here.’
‘So get me out now.’
‘Your lawyer is working on it. Remember, you wanted to do everything through your lawyer.’
The table was concrete and bolted to the floor. Drury’s shackles looped through an iron ring set in the concrete floor. This was a prison that worked on prisoners until they were broken down enough or old enough to get fed into lesser security prisons. Drury had the energy of a young man and was not aware of how systematically and relentlessly his psyche would get destroyed.
‘Where are you at on the police officer who was killed?’
‘He pushed me. I tripped and fell backwards into him. He fell on to the freeway. It was an accident.’
‘Do you think you should do time for the accident?’
‘I’m already doing time.’
‘Five years, ten years, two years, what do you think?’
‘It was an accident. With the woman I got scared the police were going to kill me.’
‘They probably were.’
‘They definitely were so I didn’t have a choice.’
Drury stared and then surprisingly allowed, ‘I know I’ll do some time.’
‘OK, then what’s a fair sentence?’
‘Fuck your games, man.’
‘Give me a number and then we’ll talk about how to get you out of here. It’s why I flew out from SF this morning.’
‘Three years.’
‘That might be right.’ Raveneau paused. ‘But I think it’s going to be longer. Here’s where you really are, right now. You’re where the rule of law doesn’t matter, despite what your lawyer tells you. You’re being looked at for possible terrorism charges and once they do that they can keep you forever. I mean literally forever. This isn’t your parents’ United States any more. They can keep you and never charge you. You could go ten years, twenty years, your whole life, just like the guys in Gitmo, and I’m not exaggerating at all. So what you need to do is get yourself back to the place where the rule of law applies, then get sentenced and do your time and get out. You do that by giving up the guys you’re protecting.’
‘I’ve already told you everything. I told you everything and then you fucked me.’
‘After I last saw you I went back to the cabinet shop and then drove your route from there. When I did, something occurred to me. Do you want to hear it?’
‘Not really.’
‘Do you want me to leave? Because I don’t mind leaving. The FBI asked me to talk to you but I don’t need this. I’ll leave and I don’t think you’ll have many visitors for awhile. Whatever your lawyer is feeding you won’t happen. Terrorism charges trump everything. But you decide. You’ve got five seconds. Should I leave?’
When Drury didn’t answer immediately, Raveneau ran a hand through his hair, pushed back his chair and stood.
‘You’re here because of choices you made and I may as well fly home.’
‘I’m not getting screwed again.’
‘Do you want to talk or not, yes or no?’
‘Fuck!’
‘Yes or no?’
‘Yes.’
Raveneau still stood with his hands on the chair back.
‘There’s another reason you’re in a supermax and that’s because they want to keep you alive. Once you don’t own that information and it’s out there circulating no one will try to kill you. Right now, the trick is to get you first.’
‘Bullshit.’
‘Other people have died since you got locked up. When I drove your route I included the stop to switch the plywood. I drove everything up to the actual delivery and then I went back to the stop before you picked up the
