Justice by Fire

office entry. Hearing what the congressman's aide proposed, Jefferson whipped around. 'They what?'

Prescott put his hand over the phone's mouthpiece. 'He says they won't come in. Says it would compromise them. He wants us to go somewhere else where we can talk. So why don't we go over to my place on the hill? It's quiet and private.'

'Forget that!'

'We could slip out the parking entrance. That way they...' Prescott nodded toward the boulevard ' — wouldn't see us leaving.'

'And what about the spooks?' Jefferson demanded. 'They come in here, we've got a chance to check them out. We go where they want, we don't know what we're walking into.'

'Floyd…' The congressman spoke with his sonorous media voice, his tone paternal and wise. 'Though I don't always see eye to eye with the man I called, I trust him completely. I have no doubt he dispatched… ah, specialists… who are also trustworthy.'

'Uh-huh. You trust them with your life. Hear this. Point number one, when Senor Rivera saw Ricardo Marquez get chopped up, he called the American Embassy. The next day, the Blancoscame to kill him. They chopped up his son. Point number two, even after the embassy knew the Blancoshad murdered an American citizen, they let those goons into the U.S. of A. Point number three, Mr. Holt went to the Federal Bureau of Investigation and told them he had a case against that Colonel Quesada and his gang of macheteros. The FBI told him to forget it. He didn't. He went public. He disappeared. Now you're telling me to trust some new people? No chance. You trust them with yourlife, not with mine.'

The veteran politician considered Jefferson's words. He took the phone from his aide.

'Hello? This is Christopher Buckley. Who am I speaking to? Rosario? Rosario, I'm sorry to question your identity, but this is a very tense situation. Please give me the name of your commander... Good. What did he tell you about our problem? Yes, yes, I'm aware the phones are insecure. But you do have some idea of the threat that confronts us. I'm attempting to negotiate a meeting, but… quite frankly, my young friend is afraid. And he has reason to be. We need to satisfy not only your need for security, but his also.'

Buckley listened. 'Yes, very good. I'm giving the phone to Floyd. Explain to him what you propose…'

Floyd Jefferson took the telephone. 'Yeah?'

He heard a deep voice. 'I'm Rosario. We can't come in with those...'

'Yeah, yeah. Listen, we can work out a place to meet, okay. But hear me, you don't know where it is until we get there. I'm not walking into any surprises…'

'No problem. I understand.'

'You'll follow us...' Jefferson put his hand over the phone. 'Mr. Buckley, you still have that black Lincoln, right?'

Buckley nodded. Jefferson spoke into the phone again. 'A black Lincoln Continental. Easy to follow. You can't lose us. You let us go in, wait a minute or so, then you show up. But no surprises, see? I am one very jumpy dude lately, and if you try anything tricky, I just don't know what I'll do. Hear me?'

'I hear you. No surprises.'

'All right. Give us ten minutes and we'll be coming out of the garage exit.'

'See you soon.'

'Yeah, later.'

Hanging up the phone, Jefferson turned to the others. 'We'll go to your place, Bob. They'll follow us. But man, this could be a setup.'

Jefferson gripped the sawed-off Smith & Wesson riot gun. He had hacksawed the barrel off at fourteen inches, then cut off the stock to leave only a curled pistol grip. Black electrician's tape wrapped the grip. He held his finger straight against the safety and trigger assembly as he slapped the weapon's pump grip into the palm of his left hand.

'They make a move on us, they are gonna suffer…'

* * *

Watching in the rear view mirror, Lyons saw the black Continental leave the office building's underground garage. The luxury car accelerated past. Putting his car into gear, Lyons entered the traffic of early-morning commuters and trucks. Blancanales, his passenger, cued Gadgets.

'That's the congressman's car.'

Lyons spoke into his radio. 'Let us lead. You stay out of sight. No reason to show them all our cards…'

'Check,' Gadgets acknowledged.

Blancanales glanced at their partner as they passed.

Lyons stayed half a block behind the Lincoln as the black car sped from the Civic Center. In its back window, Lyons saw the silhouette of a head as someone looked back.

'Give them distance,' Blancanales cautioned. 'The kid sounded like a panic case.'

'He's got reason.' Lyons followed the Lincoln through a sweeping left-hand turn onto a one-way boulevard. 'Most people couldn't cope with life on a death list.'

'Remember Morales and Merida in our Guatemala hit?' Blancanales asked.

'They went to the wall. Guatemalans don't like traitors.'

'Sharp dressers, remember? Italian silk suits, gold rings and watches.'

'Merida looked more like a gigolo than a colonel.'

'Remember the general's bodyguards the other night? At the reception?'

'So? You work for a rich general, you can afford flashy clothes.'

'The ones in that parked Dodge...'

'I didn't see them.'

'Men on a surveillance detail usually can't afford five-hundred-dollar suits...'

'I never could…'

'And if one can afford a five-hundred-dollar suit, he wouldn't wear it to sit in a parked car all night. Unless perhaps he worked for a billionaire.'

Lyons laughed. 'Hey, Rosario. I'm the paranoid. Not you. And what you're talking about is totally paranoid.' Both knew Blancanales referred to a dangerously crazed billionaire known only too well to Able Team. 'Why would Unomundo put a U.S. Congressman under surveillance?'

'Who hit his Azatlan base?'

'He doesn't know that we...'

'He saw you and Nate. Saw you face to face.'

The Lincoln turned from the boulevard onto a winding avenue leading in to the homes on the Twin Peaks. Lyons slowed as a van roared past on the narrow avenue. He glanced at the van's passenger window and saw a middle-aged, gray-haired man in a conservative sport coat.

'Crazy San Francisco,' Lyons commented. 'Businessmen drive like hot-rodders. Pol, I want Unomundo, you know that. I got that Nazi's name on my list. But I'll have to go south to find him. He wouldn't send his people north.'

'He sent his people to Texas…'

Lyons looked at Blancanales. 'Yeah… but why this congressman? Buckley's a liberal, a dove. Peace to the world. He wrote that antigun amendment. Want to repeal the second amendment to the constitution. He thinks everyone should talk Russian...'

A buzz from their hand-radios interrupted Lyons. Blancanales keyed his radio.

'What goes?'

'You see those two straights in the van?' Gadgets asked.

Blancanales looked ahead. He saw the white van tailgating the Lincoln. 'Yeah, they're ahead of us. Behind the Lincoln.'

'That's because they're following the Lincoln...'

Lyons keyed his radio. 'When did you spot them?'

'About a mile back. The one on the passenger side has a walkie-talkie...'

'But I saw him. He's an Anglo. Holy shit! They're hitting Buckley...'