“Two million dollars.”
“And what were the funds intended for?”
“To bribe public officials in New Mexico to pave the way for their getting a license to build the racetrack.”
“Did you ever learn if they were successful in bribing public officials in New Mexico?”
“Yes. We learned that they had been successful.”
“Thank you, Mr. Rodriguez.” He turned to the defense table. “Your witness.”
The defense attorney stood up and began to bombard Trini with questions.
Holly leaned over to Stone and whispered, “How long do you think this is going to go on?”
“My guess would be not long. Let’s go outside.”
They got up and went out into the hallway.
“We could take him when he leaves the courthouse,” Holly said.
“Not on federal property,” Stone replied. “Your warrant has no force here, unless you get a federal judge to sign off on it.”
“Then I’ll go to the judge in this case where he’s just testified,” Holly said.
Stone shrugged. “You can try.”
They went back into the courtroom.
“Thank you, Mr. Rodriguez,” the judge said. “We’ll take a fifteen-minute recess before continuing with the next witness.” He stood up and left the courtroom.
“Let’s go,” Holly said. She approached the bailiff and flashed her badge. “I’d like to see the judge, please.”
“On what business?”
Holly produced her paperwork. “I have a fugitive warrant for a witness in this case.”
“Just a minute.” The bailiff took the warrant and disappeared through a door. Five minutes passed, then the bailiff came back, approached the prosecutor’s table, and spoke with Byron Miller, who rose and followed him toward the judge’s chambers. The bailiff beckoned Holly and Stone to follow.
The judge was sitting at his desk eating a sandwich, his robe thrown over a chair. “You’re Chief Barker?” he said to Holly.
“Yes, Your Honor, and this is my associate, Stone Barrington.”
“This is the United States Attorney, Mr. Byron Miller,” the judge said, nodding toward Miller. “Everybody sit down.”
They sat.
“Mr. Miller, this police officer has presented me with what seems to be a properly executed fugitive warrant for your witness, Mr. Rodriguez, on charges of murder.”
“That’s twelve murders, Judge,” Holly said.
“Are you all done with Mr. Rodriguez?” the judge asked Miller.
“Yes, Judge,” Miller said, “but Mr. Rodriguez has been certified by the attorney general for the Witness Protection Program. He has recently played an important role in breaking up a terrorist ring in New York, and the FBI have informed me that he will be testifying in other trials to come. It’s important that he remain in federal custody until the government is done with him.”
Stone spoke up. “Your Honor, the fact that Mr. Rodriguez has been placed in the Witness Protection Program indicates that, even when the government is done with him, they have no intention of returning him to the Florida jurisdiction for trial on these murder charges. They’re going to let him walk.”
“Is that the case, Mr. Miller?” the judge asked.
“I can’t speak for the attorney general in this matter, Judge.”
“Well, you’ve been speaking for him up until now. Why are you getting so shy all of a sudden?”
“Your Honor, I can only tell you that this witness is crucial to more than one case against defendants who are far worse than he is, and that he needs to be kept in federal custody until he has finished testifying.”
“And how long do you anticipate that will be?”
“I can’t say, Your Honor, since the cases are spread over more than just this jurisdiction.”
The judge flipped through the warrant again. “Well,” he said, “I don’t like the sound of this at all. These are heinous crimes, and the government ought not to be able to ignore them and give this witness protection from being brought to justice. I’m going to authorize Chief Barker to serve her warrant, take Mr. Rodriguez into custody, and return him to her jurisdiction for trial. If the government wants him to testify in further trials, they can apply to the judge in the state case for temporary custody.”
“Thank you, Judge,” Holly said, beaming at him.
“Of course, your order will apply only to this jurisdiction, Your Honor,” Miller said smoothly.
“Yes,” the judge replied. He stamped Holly’s warrant and signed it. “All right, let’s get my court back into session and continue with our trial.”
Everybody stood up and left the chamber.
Holly walked over to the prosecution table, where Byron Miller was talking on his cell phone. “Mr. Miller, where is Rodriguez now?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know,” Miller said.
“He’s staying at your house. Can I find him there?”
“I’m on the phone here,” Miller replied. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”
The bailiff called the case again, and the court stood for the entrance of the judge.
“Let’s get out of here, Holly,” Stone said.
“What have they done with him?” Holly asked when they were in the hallway.
“I don’t know, but we’d better find him before he leaves the jurisdiction,” Stone replied.
41
STONE AND HOLLY went out to the parking lot and looked for the car that had brought Trini to the courthouse. It was nowhere to be seen.
“Let’s go to Miller’s house,” Holly said. “Now that we have a valid warrant, we can get in.”
“Right,” Stone said. He retraced his route to Tano Road and turned down Tano Norte. “I can’t believe we’ve finally got a legal handle on this guy. You said you brought cuffs?”
“Two pair,” Holly said. “I’ll truss him up like a Thanksgiving turkey.”
They arrived at Miller’s house and found the gates still closed. Stone reached out the window and pressed the button on the intercom.
“Yes?” a woman’s voice responded.
“This is the police. Please open the gates.”
There was a buzzing noise, and the gates swung slowly open. Stone parked the car, and they walked to the front door and rang the bell. A moment later a Hispanic woman came to the door.
“Yes?”
“I have a warrant for the arrest of Trini Rodriguez,” Holly said.
“There’s nobody here,” the woman replied.
“How about the guest house?”
“No, I just cleaned it. The three men staying there went to the airport.”
“How long ago?” Holly asked.
“Maybe ten, fifteen minutes.”
“How do I get to the airport?”
“You go back to Tano Road, then turn right at the intersection, then right again on the four-lane highway. That takes you straight there.”
They ran for the car and sped back toward Tano Road, then found the divided highway. Stone was shortly doing a hundred miles an hour.
Holly sat grimly in the passenger seat, clutching her warrant. “I wish we had a siren,” she said.
“I don’t think this thing would go any faster if we had a siren.”
They followed the signs to the airport, left the car, and ran into the Santa Fe Jet Center, straight through the
