“They’re connected, Perce, trust me.”
“Right, but we have to convince a jury, and that’s getting almost impossible to do these days.”
“Anything on the bomb out at East Winds?”
“Very sophisticated C4 device. We’ve checked the backgrounds of all the people working out there. Most of the farmhands came with Strait when the place they were working at closed down. They’re all pretty much clean. A few had misdemeanors, mostly for drunk and disorderly, stuff you’d expect from a bunch of rednecks.”
“What about Nemo Strait?”
“Like he told you. Grew up on a small horse farm that his father managed. That’s how he learned the business. He fought in Vietnam and was a superb soldier. Lots of medals and lots of hard fighting. He spent three months as a POW.”
“One tough dude, to be able to survive that. The Cong weren’t known for their hospitality.”
“He did some odd jobs when he got back to the States, prison guard, computer sales. Along the way he married, had some kids, started working again with horses and got divorced. He came to the Canfields just about the time they bought East Winds.”
“What about old Ernest B. Free?”
“Not one damn sighting, and that’s got me amazed, frankly. Usually we have thousands of phone calls, ninety-nine percent of them wrong, but usually we get one or two legit leads. This time, nothing.”
A very frustrated Web looked around. His gaze went past the device and then came back to it and was riveted. “Damn,” he said.
“What? What is it, Web?” said Bates.
Web pointed. “I think maybe we’ve got another eyewitness of sorts.”
Bates looked over at the traffic signal at the corner diagonal from the warehouse loading dock. Like other signals in the area, on top of it was mounted a surveillance camera. And like the other cameras Web had seen in the area on his last trip through, this one had been pointed in another direction, presumably by mischievous hands, and that direction happened to be right at the loading dock.
“Damn,” echoed Bates. “You thinking what I’m thinking?” “Yeah,” said Web. “That looks like one of the older models on video loops that run twenty-four hours a day. The newer ones only activate when they’re triggered by the speed of a car and take a still photo of the rear license plate.”
“Well, let’s hope the District police haven’t taped over a certain segment.”
Bates signaled for one of his men to make that call immediately. Web said, “I’ve got to get back to the farm. Romano’s probably starting to feel lonely.”
“I really don’t like this, Web. What if you end up dead between now and then?”
“You got Cove. He saw it too.”
“What if he ends up dead too? That’s just as likely, with everything that’s been going down.”
“Got a pen and some paper?”
Web wrote out the entire account of Toona’s murder. Toona’s real name was Charles Towson, Web had found out from Bates, and no one knew where the nickname had come from, yet everyone working the streets seemed to have one. Well, whoever pulled Charlie Towson’s body out of the river, if anyone ever did, was going to lose whatever was in his stomach. Web positively identified the killer as Francis “Big F” Westbrook. He signed it with a flourish and two other agents witnessed his signature.
“Are you kidding me? A defense attorney will tear that apart,” raged Bates.
“It’s the best I can do right now.” Web walked away.
37
When he returned to East Winds, Web checked in with Romano and then went to the carriage house and eased into a hot bath. A catnap while he was soaking and he’d be as good as new, he figured. He’d gotten by on a lot less sleep over the years.
Romano had seen Web’s fresh wounds and his comment had been predictable.
“You let somebody beat the crap out of you again? You’re giving HRT a bad name, Web.”
Web had told him that next time he’d make sure he was beaten in places that didn’t show.
For the next several days, his and Romano’s routine was just that—routine. When Gwen and Billy had seen his injuries from the encounter with Big F, Gwen exclaimed, “My God, are you all right?”
“Looks like old Boo kicked you in the face,” commented Billy as he sucked on an unlit cigarette.
“Actually, I would have preferred Boo,” replied Web.
Gwen had insisted on putting some medicine on Web’s cuts. Her fingers felt very nice against his skin. As she tended to him, Billy had said, “Never a dull moment for you federal types, I guess.”
“I guess,” replied Web.
He and Romano got to know the Canfields better and saw how much work it took to run a farm. As promised, they both pitched in, although Romano bitched and complained every evening to Web about it. East Winds was vast and wondrous, and Web actually started to feel that maybe he should try something else for a living. He figured those feelings would disappear as soon as he left
East Winds permanently. Gwen Canfield was an interesting woman, fascinating in many ways and as intelligent and reserved as she was beautiful and mannered. She and Billy were like the proverbial fire and ice.
Web had ridden with her every day, as much to protect her as to understand the lay of the land better. And, he had to admit, there were far worse ways to spend one’s time than riding around a beautiful place with a beautiful woman. She had stopped and prayed at the chapel each day and Web had sat on Boo and watched her. She never invited him to join her and he never suggested that he should. The fact that David Canfield had died on his watch was enough reason for him to keep his distance around the woman.
Each evening the FBI agents had gone to the large house and spent time with them. Billy had led a fascinating life and loved to share stories from it. Each time Nemo Strait had attended and Web found he had more in common with the ex-Marine than he would have thought. Strait had done a lot in his life, everything from soldiering to bronco busting.
“Live by my brains and my brawn, though I seem to have less of both as time goes by.”
“We’re sort of in the same boat,” said Web. “You see yourself doing the horse thing until you drop?”
“Well, I have to say I think about the day I walk away from all the manure and ornery animals.” He glanced at the Canfields, lowered his voice and added, grinning, “I’m talking about the two- and four-legged varieties.” In a normal tone he said, “But like I said, it gets in your blood. Some days I see myself getting my own little spread and running it right.”
“Nice dream,” said Romano. “Some days I want to have my own NASCAR team.”
Web looked at his partner. “I didn’t know that, Paulie.”
“Hey, a guy’s got to have some secrets.”
“You got that right,” said Strait. “My ex told me once that she never knew what I was thinking. You know what I told her? I told her that was the difference between men and women. Women tell you exactly what they think of you. Men just hold it in.” He glanced over at Billy Canfield, who was across the large room examining his stuffed grizzly and downing his third beer in the last half hour. Gwen had gone upstairs to check on dinner. “Although sometimes the reverse is true, you know,” said Strait.
Web looked at Canfield and then back at Strait. “Is that right?”
What was becoming more apparent also was that Gwen and Billy spent a lot of time apart. Web never directly asked Gwen about this, but her occasional comments made it seem as though that was more Billy’s choice than Gwen’s. The blame game over David, perhaps, thought Web.
And despite what Gwen had suggested earlier, it was also clear that Nemo Strait was an integral part of the operation at East Winds. Several times Web had seen Billy turn to the foreman for a definitive answer on matters related to the horses or the running of the farm.
“Been doing this since I was a baby,” Strait told Web once. “Ain’t much I haven’t seen when it comes to horses and farms and such. But
Billy, he’s picking it up fast.”
“And Gwen?”
“She knows more than Billy, but she’s sort of set in her ways too. Been trying to put a soft shoe on Baron because that animal has got some brittle hooves, but she won’t have no part of it. ‘I know my horse,’ she tells me. Stubborn. Probably one of the reasons Billy married her.”
“One of them, anyway,” said Web.
Strait sighed. “You got that right, she’s a looker. But you know what, lookers make a man’s life miserable. Know why? ’Cause some other guy’s always trying to take her away. My ex wouldn’t of won no beauty contests on her best day, but hell, I didn’t sit around worrying about some other fox in the chicken coop either.”
“Billy doesn’t seem worried about that.”
“Fellow’s hard to read sometimes. But he’s a thinker, all right. A lot going on in that old head of his.”
“That one I agree with,” replied Web.
Web had been in contact with Bates every day, but nothing, as yet, had come through on the surveillance tape.
Early one morning, Web had just got out of the shower when his phone rang. He reached over and snagged it off the toilet. It was Claire Daniels.
“Have you thought any more about the hypnosis?”
“Look, Claire, I’m on a job.”
“Web, if you really want to make some progress, then I feel hypnosis is the key.”
“Nobody is looking around in my head.”
She persisted. “We can start and if you’re uncomfortable in any way, we’ll stop. Fair enough?”
“Claire, I’m busy. I can’t deal with this right now.”
“Web, you came to me for help. I’m doing my best to help you, but I need your cooperation. Trust me, you’ve been through a lot worse than anything hypnosis will throw at you.”
“Right. Sorry, no sell.”
She paused and then said, “Listen, Web, I met with someone that you might want to know about.”
He didn’t answer.
“Buck Winters? Name ring a bell?”
“What did he want?”
“You signed a release that allowed him to ask me about your treatment. Do you remember doing that?”
“I guess. I signed a lot of papers around that time.”
“I’m sure. They really took advantage of you.”
“What did he want and what did you tell him?”
“Well, there was a big difference between the two. He tried to make a convincing case for why I should tell him everything, but the release form gave me enough wiggle room to stall him. I’ll probably hear about it later, but that’s just the way it goes.”
He thought about this for a few seconds. “You stuck out your neck for me, Claire. I appreciate that.”
“But that’s one of the reasons I’m calling you. Winters seemed dead set on nailing you to the wall on what happened. He even used the word ‘traitor.’”
“That’s actually not such a big surprise. Buck and I haven’t really seen eye to eye since Waco.”
“But if we can get to the root of your issues, Web, and show him and everyone else very clearly that you’re not a traitor, well, I can’t see how that would be a bad thing. Can you?”
Web sighed. He didn’t want to waive on this, but Web also didn’t want people to have doubts about him forever. He didn’t want to have doubts about his ability to do his job at HRT. “Do you really think the hypnosis will help?”
“We won’t know, Web, until we try. But I’ve had great success with hypnosis in other patients.”
He finally said, “Okay, maybe we can talk about this some more. Face to face.”
“Here at my office?”
“I’m on an assignment.”
“Can I come to where you are?”
Web thought about this. Did he really want to do this? The smart thing would be to tell Claire Daniels to go to hell and get on with his life. The problem with that was, he had never really gotten the help he was now coming to believe he actually needed. At some point he would have to pay the piper. And he was coming to understand that Claire really did want to help him. “I’ll send somebody for you.”
“Who?”
“His name’s Romano, Paul Romano. He’s HRT. Don’t tell him anything, okay, because sometimes he’s got a big mouth.”
“Fine, Web. Where are you?”
“You’ll see, Doc. You’ll see.”
“I’m free in about an hour. Do you need more time?”
“That’s plenty of time.”
Web dried off, dressed, found Romano and told him what he wanted him to do.
“Who is the woman?” he asked suspiciously. “Is this your shrink?”
“They like to be called psychiatrists.”
“I’m not your chauffeur. I’m on a job, Web.”
“Paulie, come on. I want to check in with Billy and Gwen. And you’ve been carrying the full load out here, let me take it for a while. If you leave now, she’ll be ready to go by the time you get there.”
“And what if something goes down while I’m gone?”
“Then I’ll handle it.”
“And what if you get popped?”
“What, you worrying about me all of a sudden?”
“No, I don’t want to get my butt in a ringer over it. I got a family to think of.”
“You mean Angie will kill you.”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
“Look, just do it and I swear to you I’ll be grafted to the Canfields’ souls until you get back.”
Romano didn’t look happy about it, but he finally agreed and got Claire’s name and address from Web. “But listen up: The real reason I’m doing this is so I can go get my own wheels.”
“You mean the ’Vette?”
“Yeah, I mean the ’Vette. I bet Billy would love to see it, him and me being automotive aficionados.”
“Just go, Paulie, before I throw up.”
Romano had told him that the Canfields were at the main house, so Web jogged up there and knocked on the door. An older woman dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and wearing a brightly colored bandanna answered the door and escorted him back to the small sunlit breakfast area off the kitchen where Gwen and Billy were eating.
Gwen rose and said, “Would you like some coffee or something to eat?”
Web accepted some coffee, eggs and toast. “Romano and I were patrolling the place the other night and saw some interesting activity going on next door,” he said.
Gwen and Billy exchanged glances and Billy said, “At the Southern Belle? Damn right it’s interesting.”
“So you’ve seen some things too?”
“Billy,” said Gwen, “you have no proof.”
“Proof of what?” asked Web quickly.
“Maybe I ain’t got any proof, but I got my common sense,” said Billy, “and the goings-on over there make about as much sense with running a horse farm as me running a convent.”
“So what have you seen?”
“You tell me first.”
Web did so and Billy acknowledged that all of it jived with what he had seen. “See, what gets me,” said Billy, “are the semis. Now, I was in trucking for twenty years, and you only use those over-the-road rigs to haul some serious cargo long distances.”