Recoil. Part 14

"What about?"

"Well you know we've got a whole octopus out there trying to pin down Merle and those others." Ezio pulled the big gla.s.s ashtray toward him and leaned back in the swivel chair. "There's something curious that's come up."

"You got the jammer running, Ezio?"

"Sure. The kid checked it out and turned it back on."

"All right. Go ahead."

Ezio said, "We're blowing a great deal of money and man-hours on finding those four guys."

"You want to stop looking for them?" Frank's voice was soft and dangerous.

"No. I'm just stating a fact."

"Ezio, we need to nail those four gentlemen. For a lot of very good reasons, as you know."

"Sure. I'm just saying we've got a board of directors to answer to and some of them aren't-well they maybe don't understand some of these things. One or two of them may bring it up at the meeting. I've already heard a couple of beefs. I mean n.o.body's going to make a dime off this deal whether we nail those four guys or not."

"If we don't nail them we could lose a lot of dimes in the future. People get the idea they can spit in our faces and get away with it, pretty soon we lose respect."

"You don't have to argue it with me, Frank."

"Who's been beefing?"

"A couple of the guys. Malone for one."

"Stupid Mick. Who else?"

"Lorricone."

"Mittens? He's beefing? All the shylock skips he's gone after and maimed?"

"Well he was making some remark about how you cut your losses after you reach a certain point. You figure you've driven him out of town, you've got him on the run, that's lesson enough."

"These four gentlemen spit in my face, Ezio."

"I know that. But I'd soft-pedal that argument with the board if I were you."

"You're not me."

"It's likely to come up in the meeting, that's all. I wanted you to be ready for it."

"I appreciate that." Frank crossed his legs. "Now you said there was something curious that came up."

"It's about Merle."

"Go ahead."

Ezio snapped the gold lighter open and fiddled with it. He felt unnerved by the abrupt coldness of Frank's voice. "Well I'm not sure about this. It's all kind of vague. What happened, we sent photographs of Merle and the other three out to a lot of contacts, particularly out on the West Coast."

"I know all that."

"Sam Ordway out in Los Angeles, you remember him?"

"Sure."

"Ordway started up a new racket out there a few years ago. It was while you were away. He's running a big executive-car operation. You know, they heist cars to order, they deliver them to South Americans and false-front movie producers and some of those fly-by-night livery and leasing outfits. The way it's set up, they mainly lift the cars from doctors, people like that, and they've got a whole chain of body and paint shops scattered around the Southwest and the Coast. They boost a car, it goes straight into the shop. It's a very smooth operation. Each item is a custom heist-they don't boost a car until they get an order for that particular kind of car-but it's pretty big business. All right, it's just a sideline to Ordway, he's got a lot of big irons in the fire, but I imagine this one clears something up in six figures every month."

"What's this got to do with Merle?"

"Just background, Frank. Ordway runs this executive-car business, he's involved in interstate car laws, right? It's FBI jurisdiction. He's got one or two FBI agents in his pocket. Not big-timers but if orders ever come down to move against his operation he'll get the word from them in time to move out. These FBI agents also pa.s.s on information to him from time to time. They sell it to him for a little extra money."

"So an FBI agent pa.s.sed Ordway some information that's connected with Edward Merle. What was it?"

"Well it seems they're looking for him."

"Who's looking for who?"

"According to Ordway the FBI put out an all-points on Edward Merle, or at least on a guy who looks like him. It looks like Merle but the name is Baxter. Paul Baxter. Now the last name he was running under was Jason Greene. He was using that name up there in Arizona when George Ramiro almost ran him down."

"You're sure it's Merle? Why would the FBI put out an APB on him?"

"Your guess is as good as mine. Evidently it's not an urgent bulletin. It's just one of those ordinary daily a.s.signment-sheet items. You know, keep an eye out for this guy and if you spot him report him to headquarters. Now maybe it isn't Merle at all, but Ordway swears it is."

Frank reached up to scratch his head and sat up irritably when he touched it; apparently he'd forgotten he was wearing the rug. "Let's take this through slowly. It's all a.s.sumptions. a.s.sume the government gives Merle another new ident.i.ty, this Paul Baxter name. Then they put out an all-points for the guy. If we a.s.sume Baxter and Merle are the same man, why do they provide him with a new name and then go looking for him? It only makes sense one way. It means Merle walked out on them."

"Refused their protection, you mean."

"It sounds that way. And if it's true it means Merle's out there in the open. Walking around loose."

"That's about the way I had it sized up but I'd like to know whether this guy really is Merle."

"You get on the horn to Ordway. You tell him to bring his FBI man back in and get that photograph away from him long enough to make a copy of it. I've got to see that picture."

"I'll get right on that."

"If they put him on the all-points sheet they must have given a reason."

"Well it's just a routine 'wanted to locate' bulletin. Agents aren't even supposed to stop and question him. They've been told this Baxter is some guy who's involved in something to do with film piracy."

"With what?"

"Film piracy. You know, guys rip off prints of movies, then they sell them to grade-B distribution chains down South or something. It's one of the petty rackets but the FBI's in it because it's interstate. The reason this FBI agent brought it to Ordway, Ordway's involved in that racket. The word on this Baxter guy is he's a contact man of some kind and they want to follow him to his sources."

"It's a cute story. Maybe it's true-maybe Baxter's just Baxter. I need that photograph, Ezio."

"We'll get it. I'll call Ordway right after the meeting."

Frank uncrossed his legs and put his elbows on his knees. "If it's Merle, it means he got disgusted with the way they were protecting him. He decided he'd have a better chance on his own. Which is stupid, of course. He hasn't got that nursemaid any more-what was his name?"

"Bradleigh."

"He hasn't got anybody to keep him out of trouble. He'll make a stupid mistake. Now our problem is to be there when he makes it."

"How?"

"On his own he'd probably do things Bradleigh would never let him do. For openers he'd probably make contact with his friends. Not anybody here in New York, that goes back too long ago, but friends he made in Los Angeles. Have you got that list?"

"Right here in the drawer." Ezio opened it and took out the Merle file.

"Find out who his closest friends were."

"All right."

"Then put people on them. Bug their phones too."

"My G.o.d, Frank, that could be an enormous operation. Cost us a fortune."

"It's eight of my years we're talking about."

"I'll do it, Frank, but it's up to you to convince the board. It's their money too."

Frank's eyes went from point to point and suddenly s.h.i.+fted toward him and he felt pinned against the chair.

"Frank, all I'm saying is, if it was me I don't think I could talk them into it. But you're better than I am at convincing people."

"I wish you'd put your mind on your job and find me Edward Merle."

"We found him before. We can do it again."

"I know you can, Ezio. I have every confidence in you." Frank's smile filled him with gloom.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

California: 27 August-5 September

1.

WHEN THE BROWN CADILLAC CRUNCHED TO A STOP MATHIESON went down from the cabin to meet it. Jan went with him; Roger and Amy waited by the cabin. The two boys were inside manufacturing something out of Billy's Erector Set.

Diego Vasquez stepped out of the car. He smiled when Mathieson introduced him to Jan. "A great pleasure indeed." Vasquez bowed over her hand.

Jan was bemused. There was a chilly precision in Vasquez's deep voice that was out of kilter with the elegance of his att.i.tudes. He still made Mathieson uneasy.

They went up toward the cabin. Walking behind them, Mathieson was surprised to realize Vasquez was no taller than Jan.

There was a round of introductions. Amy was captivated at once. The boys came out to meet Vasquez and they were impressed; they were inured to celebrities but Vasquez had an odd anachronistic flamboyance. After a while Mathieson knew what it reminded him of: radio voices from the age of fustian-Murrow, Alex Dreier, Kaltenborn, Westbrook Van Voorhis. It was with transparent reluctance that Roger gathered Amy and the boys and bundled them off on the pretext of casting a pool. The four of them went down the trail into the pines, fis.h.i.+ng poles bobbing, lugging their picnic.

"I've enjoyed some of his films," Vasquez said. "I've never decided whether he's a competent actor but I rather doubt that matters. He cuts an impressive figure on the screen."

Mathieson said, "You know he was a rodeo champion before he came to Hollywood."

"It's more than horsemans.h.i.+p, I'm sure." Vasquez settled into one of the weathered rockers and glanced up at Jan. She stood with her hands in the pockets of her sheepskin coat, one shoulder tipped against the log pillar that supported the porch overhang. She watched Vasquez with tight expectant eyes. Vasquez put his whole attention on Jan. "May I a.s.sume you concur in your husband's decision?"

"Yes. Of course."

"You said that a bit casually, Mrs.-what name should I use?"

"I don't care. Suit yourself."

"You're tense. I'm sorry-I'm sure my presence only exacerbates that."

She didn't reply; she took her hands out of her pockets and folded her arms, hugging herself against the mountain chill.

Vasquez said gently, "I really ought to know how to address you."

She glanced at her husband. "Jan Mathieson."

"Thank you." Vasquez tipped the rocker back, crossed his legs and folded his hands in his lap. He looked comfortable-in command, fully a.s.sured. "You've had nasty experiences. It's natural that you should be troubled by great anxieties. We hope to allay those."

"I hope you can."

"My staff is already at work. My organization is rather unusual as you may know. You may have been misled by publicity. The news media pay attention only to climaxes. To the public I'm sure some of our operations appear reckless. I'd like to a.s.sure you that isn't the case. It may appear otherwise but we've never jeopardized innocent people. The Stedman kidnapping was a case in point. The media made it appear that the boy only escaped by great good luck. This wasn't the case. At no time was there any risk of the boy's coming under fire. Our movements were coordinated and prepared down to the inch. We had the camp under visual and electronic surveillance for sixteen hours before the moment came when we knew the boy had been left alone, temporarily, in his hut. That was when we made our move, and our first objective was the hut itself-to make sure the boy was protected. Corralling the kidnappers was only the secondary objective. Do you follow my drift?"

"Yes."

"The primary objective in your case is to insure the safety of you and your son. I won't expose you or the boy to risk, and I won't permit you to expose yourselves to it. As for your husband, he must make up his own mind as to the limits of risk; we'll conform to his decision in the matter. You've decided to counterattack those who have attacked you. This ambition is laudable only if it has a reasonable chance of success. There'd be no point in approaching it as a kamikaze mission. Does this coincide with your view?"

"I suppose so."

"You have reservations."

"It's a last resort, isn't it. This whole madness. I'd be a fool if I held out much hope."

"I understand your depression. But the forecast isn't as bleak as you may believe."