Kerney waited an hour and a half until the officers came back and completed another tour. He put the night- vision viewer away and trotted to the side of the hacienda. Under a portal, arched lead-glass doors opened onto the patio. Kerney inspected the doors with a flashlight and found alarm sensors attached to the glass.
He backtracked to the chapel and checked for a rear entrance. There was none, but small stained-glass windows showing the stations of the cross ran the length of the building on either side. The windows were wired to the alarm system.
Kerney figured De Leon had something valuable inside the chapel-like maybe a priceless religious statue.
He had no way of knowing where the Mexican cops might be stationed.
They could be at the access road security gate, or checking on another jefe's mansion some distance away.
It would have to be a smash-and-grab affair. To do it right, he needed to be in, out, and gone in a few minutes.
He could make it if he pushed his bad knee to the maximum and got lucky inside the hacienda.
He picked up a rock, broke a chapel window, and hauled himself inside.
The alarm was silent, but intrusion sensors mounted near the ceiling blinked rapidly.
His flashlight beam illuminated the Lady of Guadalupe statue on the center of the altar. Kerney grabbed it, kicked open the chapel door, put the bulto on the outside step, and sprinted to the hacienda.
He blew a hole in one of the glass patio doors with his nine-millimeter, unlocked it, and did a fast-and-dirty search, sweeping his light quickly over the walls of each room. He found the sheathed U.S. Cavalry sword above the mantel in the billiard room. He took it, left his business card on the mantel, and ran like hell, retracing his steps.
He snatched the bulto from the chapel step at a dead run, and sprinted for the hill. He could hear the sound of a fast-approaching vehicle.
He didn't stop running until he was on the back side of the hill. He jogged to the cover of the basque before slowing to a walk. Sharp jolts of pain ran up his leg.
Kerney smiled in spite of the pain as he glanced at the statue and sheathed sword in his hands. It was, at best, a small victory over De Leon But he knew it would sting him. andy held a brief press conference as Kerney watched from the back of the room. He said a few words about the return of the bulto from an anonymous source, and presented the statue to a museum official who gushed in appreciation while the video cameras whirled and reporters scribbled in their notebooks.
Kerney slipped away before the reporters started asking questions, and went to pack the sword and scabbard for shipment.
The sword had a three-quarter-inch blade, a gilded brass hilt, a grip wrapped in twisted wire, and a gold lace strap attached to the handle.
The nickel-plated scabbard had a mounting of gilded brass. It was in mint condition.
Kerney would mail the sword to West Point, where the other military artifacts found on the missile range were on permanent display. He packed it carefully and included a note returning the items with the compliments of Major Sara Brannon, the army officer who had worked with Kerney on the smuggling case.
Kerney had been thinking a lot about Sara lately; they had a long-standing date to meet when she returned from her tour of duty in Korea in late spring.
It felt like a long time away.
Andy came in as he licked the shipping label and stuck it on the package.
'What's that?' he asked, tilting his chin at the package.
'Just a memento I'm sending off on behalf of a friend,' Kerney said as he picked up the package.
'I have to visit someone. I'll see you later.'
Kerney stopped in on Joe Valdez before leaving headquarters.
Joe was busy boxing up files. He stretched packing tape over the top of a carton and sealed it shut.
'That's it, Chief,' Joe said.
'Every shred of evidence on Roger Springer, Sherman Cobb, and Bucky Watson is in these boxes. I have to deliver it to the AG this afternoon.
The case is out of our hands.'
'How far did you get on the money laundering?' Kerney asked.
'Pretty far,' Joe answered.
'Bucky liked to use De Leon money instead of his own whenever possible.'
'How about for political campaign contributions?'
'Bucky made some big contributions to the governor's campaign, but I didn't track the source.'
'Would you do that for me before you take the files totheAG?'
'What are you looking for, Chief?'
'I'd like to know if Bucky gave De Leon money to the governor's reelection committee.'
'What difference would that make? Unless we could prove the committee knew the money was tainted, no crime has been committed.'
'That's not what I'm after, Joe,' Kerney said.
'Do it on the QT.'
'Whatever you say.'
'Thanks.'
After Kerney left, Joe got his penknife out and started opening the taped cartons, wondering what kind of political game the deputy chief was playing. He decided he didn't want to know. robert had been transferred from the hospital in Albuquerque to the Las Vegas Medical Center. Kerney found him in one of the cookie-cutter-modern treatment cottages behind the original nineteenth-century building once known as the New Mexico Insane Asylum.
The cottage consisted of a combined dayroom and dining area with private cell-like sleeping quarters that branched off from a semicircular core. In spite of the white walls, sunlight from skylights and windows, and the numerous game boards and magazines scattered about, the cottage had a grubby, neglected appearance.
Robert sat in a plastic chair facing a television set, watching a religious program on a Christian station. A pair of crutches rested against his leg, and his feet were wrapped in bandages.
Kerney sat down next to Robert, who gave him a disissive look and turned his attention back to the set.
'How are you, Robert?'
'Jesus cut off all my toes,' he said, keeping his eyes glued on the screen.
'Jesus did that?'
'He cut them off for raping my daughter,' he said matter-of-factly.
'That's pretty harsh.'
'Jesus knows what he's doing,' Robert said instructively.
'You should know that.'
'I hope he does.'
'Do you love Jesus?'
'Everybody should,' Kerney answered.
'That's right. Are you a doctor?' Robert asked, searching Kerney's face.
'No, my name is Kerney.'
'That's a funny name.'
'Don't you remember me?'
'I never saw you before,' Robert said as he switched his gaze back to the television.
Kerney stayed until it was dear Robert had nothing more to say. delbon's forty-million-dollar yacht was anchored just outside the bay of the coastal city of Manzanillo.
Enrique watched the wake of the approaching boat cut through the Pacific Ocean before moving to the shade of the canopy on the foredeck.
De Leon used Manzanillo as a transfer point for cocaine shipments from Colombia and Ecuador. The product came in by ship to be off-loaded at the dock into waiting trucks. This arrangement was possible because De Leon had made the local police commander and his immediate assistants wealthy men.
