'Ah, too bad. What did he die from?'
'Cancer,' David said. 'Sit down and drink your drink. There's a lot I want to talk to you about.'
She curled up alongside him on the couch, and he put an arm about her shoulders.
'How soon can you be ready to leave?' he asked her. 'I mean leave the country for good.'
'I told you,' she said. 'Give me twenty minutes.'
He laughed and hugged her. 'You're a wonder, you are,' he said. 'It won't be until after this Friday. It all depends on when I can book a flight for us. But let's figure early next week-okay? Now listen carefully: I'm driving up to Lakeland tomorrow and may not be back until late in the evening. I'll leave you two grand in cash, and I want you to go out to Gevalt and pick up your passport. Got that?'
She nodded.
'Now on Friday afternoon, you and I are going shopping. I have charge accounts at Burdines, Jordan Marsh, Lord and Taylor, Macy's, Saks, and Neiman-Marcus. Make out a list of everything you want. We're going to charge up a storm at all those stores.'
She turned her head to look at him. 'And we'll be gone before the bills come in-right?'
'Right! So forget about the cost. Just buy everything you want.'
'But what'll I need-fur coats or bikinis? Where are we going?'
'Costa Rica,' he said. 'A climate a lot like Florida's. Even better. I have a ranch down there you're going to love. It's out in the country, but not too far from the beach or the city. Plenty to do, plenty to see. And you already habla Spanish.'
'Oh God,' she said, 'it sounds great. I'll bet they have wonderful plantains.'
'And fantastic melons,' he said. 'The place is a paradise.'
He picked up her drink and led her upstairs to the bedroom. She took off her robe, sat on the edge of the bed, watched him undress.
He knelt on the floor at her feet. He pressed her bare knees together and leaned his chin on them, his eyes turned upward to her face.
'I've got to tell you something, Rita. I've been a grifter all my life, and loving you is maybe the first straight thing I've ever done. It's a super feeling.'
She clasped his face, lifted his head gently.
'Come to mommy,' she said.
60
On Thursday morning, February 1, Anthony Harker listened to the previous day's tapes in his motel room. Then he packed all the reels in a battered briefcase and lugged it to the office. He finally decided Crockett had to know. He wasn't going to dump the problem in his lap, just present the evidence and tell Crockett what he planned to do. He owed the chief that much,
Crockett was already behind his desk, as trim as ever in his vested suit with a neatly knotted polka-dotted bow tie. He listened closely as Harker ran through the checklist on his clipboard.
'Roger Fortescue will drive up to Lakeland tomorrow morning in time to be there by noon. He'll arrest Herman Weisrotte. Two Secret Service men will provide backup.
'Henry Ullman will collar Bartlett at the Crescent Bank in Boca at noon. He'll be assisted by FBI special agents.
'Manuel Suarez will take Sidney Coe. Manny will lead a squad from the Fort Lauderdale police. In addition to Coe, all the yaks will be booked.
'I figured Simon Clark would bust Mortimer Sparco's brokerage, but Clark asked if he could pick up Irving Donald Gevalt instead. That's okay with me, so I arranged for an SEC team to hit the brokerage. They know what to look for.
'The DEA will coordinate their raid on Frank Little's warehouse. At the same time they arrest Little, they'll grab all his customers they've been able to identify.
'I'll lead a team from the Broward County Sheriff's Office against David Rathbone's town house. The warrants authorize his arrest and seizing whatever records we can find in his private office.
'Ernest Hohlman, the bartender at the Palace Lounge, picked out two ex-cons from the mug books who might be involved in the murder of Termite Tommy. They're Brian and Thomas Corcoran, brothers, with rap sheets as long as your arm. Heavy stuff like armed robbery and felonious assault. There's a warrant out for both of them right now.
'I should warn you, sir, that some if not all of the assisting agencies are sure to rush to the newspapers and TV cameras as soon as the operation goes down.'
'That's all right,' Crockett said. 'There'll be enough glory to go around, and we don't want any for this organization. We may need the cooperation of those people in the future, so let them get their headlines. Have you been able to keep a lid on all this?'
'I think so,' Harker said. 'There have been no leaks that I know of.'
Lester Crockett leaned over his desk, clasped his hands, looked directly at the other man.
'Tony,' he said, 'you haven't mentioned Rita Sullivan. What part have you planned for her?'
Harker hoisted his briefcase onto Crockett's desk. 'Sir,' he said, 'I've been providing you with abstracts of the tapes from David Rathbone's home. Now I think you better listen to the complete tapes. I know what must be done, but you should be aware of my reasons.'
Crockett nodded. 'If you feel it's that important, I'll do it now. Is there a machine available?'
'Yes, sir. In the bullpen. I'll have it brought in here.'
He wasn't summoned back to Crockett's office until late in the afternoon. The reels were stacked on the chief's desk. He motioned Harker to a chair and stared at him.
'You should have told me sooner, Tony,' he said quietly.
'I wasn't sure. Not absolutely sure. She could have been playing her role.'
Crockett shook his head. 'I was afraid of something like this. And so were you.'
'No! I didn't expect anything like that to happen.'
'I think you did,' Crockett said, 'but perhaps you wouldn't admit it to yourself. If you were sure of her, you would have told her about the taps on Rathbone's phones and the bugs inside the house.'
Harker was silent.
'I'm sorry, Tony,' Crockett said. 'People do turn sour, you know. And sometimes the best. Will you handle it?'
'Yes, sir. Before noon tomorrow. What's the most we can offer her?'
'Immediate resignation for reasons of health. Nothing on her record, but never another job in law enforcement. Oh God, what a fool!'
'Rita?' Tony said. 'Or me?'
Crockett looked at him sadly. 'Both of you,' he said. 'But perhaps 'fool' isn't the right word. 'Victim' is more accurate.'
'Mooches,' Harker said bitterly.
61
Friday morning, February 2.
It was a squally day, no sign of the sun, ripped clouds scudding before a northeast wind. There were spatters of rain, an occasional zipper of lightning, thunder rumbling in the distance like an artillery barrage.
It must have poured during the night; streets on the way to the office were flooded, and a royal palm was down across Federal Highway. Tony Harker splashed through puddles to a coffee shop, but his stomach was churning and he ordered a glass of milk and dry rye toast.
