you'll never see us again.'
Hanley nodded and plucked a cigar from a humidor without offering his guests one. He lit up and puffed smoke in their direction. 'I was contacted about two years ago by a broker from Sacramento. He had heard about my, ah, connections, south of the border and thought I would be the perfect go-between for a highly lucrative deal with no risk and little work.'
'An offer you couldn't refuse.'
'Of course. But I was cautious. Everyone in California has a get-rich scheme. He knew about my ties to Enrico. So I had to make sure this guy wasn't working in an official capacity. I had a private detective check him out. He was legit.'
Austin smiled faintly at the irony of a crooked lawyer worrying about honesty. 'What did he hire you to do?'
'The people he represented wanted to find land in the Baja. It had to be remote and on the coast. Then he wanted me to handle the paperwork and red tape involved in starting a business in Mexico.'
'Baja Tortillas.'
'Yes. He wanted a Mexican to hold the actual ownership for the plant. He said it would be easier that way. It would be a turnkey operation. He supplied the plant specifications and brought in a construction crew. His clients would require access to the plant after it was built, but they would not interfere in the operation. They said Enrico could keep half the profits, and the plant would be his free and clear after five years.'
'Did you ever wonder why anyone would be so generous with what must have been a considerable investment?'
'I am paid substantially because I don't ask questions like that.'
'Seems your friends wanted a cover operation,' Zavala said.
'That certainly crossed my mind. The Japanese ran into all sorts of flak when they tried to build a salt- producing plant
along the coast. A bunch of whale huggers made a big stink with the Mexican government. I assumed the man's clients saw what had happened with the Japanese and didn't want to go through the same headaches.' 'Who was this broker?'
'His name was Jones. Oh yes, that's his real name,' Hanley added when he saw the skeptical glances. 'He's a matchmaker who specializes in buying and selling businesses.'
'Who was he representing?'
'He never told me.'
Austin leaned forward onto Hanley's desk. 'Don't jerk us around, Mr. Hanley. You're a careful man. You would have had your private detective poke into this guy.'
Hanley shrugged. 'Why deny it? The clients tried to hide their identity behind a web of corporate paper.'
'You said tried. Who are they?'
'I only got as far as an outfit called the Mulholland Group. It's a closed corporation with ties to companies involved in large-scale hydraulic projects.'
'What else?'
'That's all I know.' Hanley checked his Cartier wrist watch. 'If you'll excuse me, I have an appointment with a real client.'
'We want the broker's address and phone number.'
'It won't do you any good. He died a few weeks ago. His car went off a mountain road.'
Austin had been gazing through the floor-to-ceiling window behind Hanley at a helicopter going back and forth across the harbor. It was moving closer with each pass. At the mention of unusual death, he brought his full attention back to Hanley.
'We'd like whatever information you have on him anyway. And your whole file as well.'
Hanley frowned. He thought he was through with this annoying pair. 'I can't give you the original. I'll have it copied. It might take a couple of hours.'
'That would be fine. We'11 be back for it in two hours.'
Hanley's frown deepened. Then he smiled again, rose from his desk, and showed them to the door.
Back in the elevator, Austin said, 'We'll call Hiram Yaeger. Hanley's bound to censor the stuff he gives us, so we might want to conduct our own investigation into this Mulholland Group.' Hiram Yaeger was NUMA's computer whiz. The tenth-floor computer complex he called Max was plugged into a vast data base of oceanic knowledge from every source in the world. Max routinely hacked into outside databases.
They stepped out of the building lobby into the Southern California sun. As Zavala walked to the curb to hail a cab there was a loud whup-whup sound from directly overhead. A green helicopter hovered over the street, about a hundred feet from the glass face of the building. Like the other pedestrians they stared at the aircraft with curiosity. Then recognition flashed in Austin's mind.
He grabbed Zavala's arm. 'We've got to go back.'
Zavala glanced at the helicopter and bolted for the revolving door behind Austin.
They dashed into an open elevator and punched the button for the lawyer's floor. Halfway up there was a dull thud, and the elevator's sides rattled in the shaft. Austin hit the stop button for the floor below Hanley's office. They ran past startled office workers and raced up the stairway to the next level.
Acrid black smoke filled the stairwell. Austin felt the door to the law-office floor. Unable to detect heat that would indicate a fierce blaze on the other side, he opened the door a crack. More smoke poured out. They opened the door wide enough to pass through, got down on their hands and knees, and crawled through the choking fumes into the receptionist's area. The sprinkler system had been set off, and they were drenched under a cooling spray. The receptionist lay on the rug next to her desk.
'What about Hanley?' Joe shouted. Smoke was billowing from the office door.
'Don't bother. He's gone.'
They dragged the receptionist to the stairwell and got her
limp body down to the floor below. She came around after a few minutes of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Soon firemen pounded onto the floor, and they turned her over to an EMT. They walked down rather than take an elevator where they would be stuck if the power went off. More firemen poured into the lobby. The police had arrived and were evacuating the building. They joined the crowd milling around outside, but seeing there was nothing they could do, they walked a couple of blocks and hailed a cab.
The driver, a Senegalese from the looks of his ID card, glanced at their soot-covered faces. 'You in there? Man, I just heard over the radio. Some kind of explosion.'
Zavala looked out the back window at the confusion outside the building where police were stopping traffic and setting up a fire line.
Zavala wiped the soot from his cheek. 'How did you know that was going to happen?'
'I didn't. But I noticed the helicopter going back and forth across the harbor when we were talking to Hanley.'
'I saw it, too, but didn't pay much attention. I figured it was a traffic chopper.'
'I had the same reaction at first. Then we saw it up close, and something clicked. The same chopper or one very much like it did a fly-by after the explosion at the tortilla plant.'
'I remember. Dark green. It buzzed the cove, then flew off.' Zavala pondered the implication. 'Whoever owned that chopper wanted Hanley dead in a bad way.'
'Hanley ran with a pretty rough crowd.'
'You think it was Enrico?'
'It's possible. He knew we would talk to Hanley. I was surprised he didn't call Hanley to warn him we were coming.'
'I've been thinking about Mr. Jones, the guy who brokered the deal,' Zavala said thoughtfully. 'Maybe his mouth was shut for him as well.'
'It would fit in with the Enrico theory until something better comes along,' Austin said.
Something better did come along back at the hotel. While Austin went in to clean up and change, Zavala flipped to the TV news. The camera showed shots of smoke belching from the office and fire trucks outside. The fire department spokesman said a number of people were treated for smoke inhalation, but there was apparently only one death. The name would be released pending notice of next of kin. Cause of the explosion was un known. The
