Tyranny of a Lover...Diary of the Wife of an Undercover informant

by Janet J. White

  A week later, Dick burst through the front door. "How would you like to go to California?" he blurted out. Before I could take a breath to respond, he continued. "Clark and Jackson want me to drive to California, pick up a load of marijuana in Los Angeles, and haul it to Chicago for a quick sale."

  I felt like an earthquake opened the ground up beneath me. "What!"

  "Pussycat, now don't say anything until you hear me out! This must be one of those "tested by fire" things that Clark warned me about. I'm sure they want to see how I do before they give me bigger and better things. It's like any corporation. You have to start at the bottom and work your way up. Right now, I'm on the bottom rung of the ladder. Please bear with me and we'll come out of this just fine."

  I shook my head. "No, no, no!"

  "Now don't say no so soon. After all, Clark and Jackson know what they're doing. And remember Reed's a lawyer. He's not going to risk his butt on something that's not a sure thing. I know that you don't like it, but this will be the first and last time I'll be a mule. I promise."

  "Dick, that's an all-occasion catchphrase you trot out whenever you need it. I don't want anything to do with it."

  "Come on, Jen. I need your help to pull this off."

  "Dick! I can't and I won't!"

  "It'll be a lot safer if we all go together. And I've got a lot of old contacts in Chicago. I used to live there, after all. I can unload the pot within a week, maybe two at the most."

  I turned to him, outraged. "And who is `we all'?"

  "You, me and the kid."

  "Are you flat out of your mind?" I cried. "Do you know what you're asking? It's bad enough that you want me to go along with this insanity, but exposing Gregg to this kind of a risk is ludicrous."

  "Have a little faith in me," he entreated. "I wouldn't do anything to jeopardize you or your son. And look at it this way, where would Gregg stay if we left him here? Your parents are dead and gone. So's my grandmother. And you know it wouldn't be safe to leave a willful teenager with a drug problem...home alone."

  "And taking a sixteen-year-old along on a cross country drug buy and sell would be good for a youngster with a drug problem?"

  "Hey, I already told you that when the right time came along, I'd jump on it." Dick clenched his jaws together. "I don't think we have much choice. We'll take as few risks as possible. We'll do everything right and we won't draw attention to ourselves. We won't even drive fast. And, let's face another fact, if we run into any flack, having a teenager along will throw anyone off the scent. And, last but not least, we'll get twenty grand for doing the job. That's our stake so we can get started in whatever business you want. Besides, I'd like the kid to see something of the country and have a good time. It'll be exciting for him."

  An hour later, we still argued. Dick's voice turned vicious. Then, to my everlasting shame, I finally let him wear me down. "Okay, I'll go, but I don't want Gregg involved. I'll find someone responsible he can stay with while we're gone."

  Just then Gregg came home and Dick called him into the office to join us.

  "Hi, Mom, Dick. What's new?"

  Dick jumped up and put his hands on Gregg's shoulders, smiling broadly.

  "Hey, sport, you ever been to California or Las Vegas?"

  "No." Gregg's eyes started to sparkle. "I've heard a lot about Las Vegas. Are we going? I'd sure like to see it."

  Gregg saw me shaking my head and said, "Aw, Mom, since school's out for the summer it's a great time go."

  "I figured we'd stop at Vegas," Dick enticed, "and do a little gambling on the way to the windy city of Chicago. Your mom and I have a job to do...and I could sure use your help."

  "Absolutely," Gregg said, smiling from ear to ear. "Sounds terrific."

  Gregg viewed my objections as wanting to spoil his fun. How could he know that I wanted only to shield him from danger?

  Again, however, I caved in to Dick's demands.

  "Come on you two." Dick took us both by the hand, leading us into the kitchen. "Let's have dinner early so we can pack tonight. One small bag each, okay? We'll hit the road tomorrow morning, right after breakfast."

  Early the next morning Dick placed the three luggage pieces in the trunk of my Olds Cutlass. "My Lincoln eats more gas, plus yours has deeper trunk space," he explained.

  As we left Sarasota and settled down for the long twenty-five-hundred-mile journey to L.A., Dick kept up the encouragement. "We're going to have a ball," he said. It'll be good for you, Gregg, to see some of the country."

  We drove straight through to New Orleans, where we stopped at a hotel brimming over with southern charm.

  After dinner, we decided to take a dip in the pool. A brick alcove led the way, as we opened the door to a silent beauty borrowed from a dream.

  A full moon hung suspended over the pool surrounded by flowering plants of deep red, regal purple and bright yellow squatting in huge cement pots. A glass dome overhead invited bright moonbeams to dance on the water's surface. An intoxicating perfume filled the night air. Emerald green vines crept along sturdy brick walls that enclosed the loveliness. For hours, we played like porpoises on holiday in the water's perfect temperature.

  About two in the morning, Dick and Gregg wanted to turn in after the long day's drive. Reluctantly, I stepped on the elevator with my husband and son. I would have liked to spent the rest of the night in that magical place...in the fragrance, in the water, in the moonbeams. The enchanted setting became my retreat. I didn’t know then that, in the frightful months ahead, I would return mentally to this special haven to soothe my mind and soul.

  Leaving New Orleans the next morning, we drove straight through to Los Angeles, where Dick easily found the motel designated by Clark as the meeting place. Our adjoining rooms on the second floor faced the parking lot below, which opened to a railed walkway. Dick set the luggage down and picked up the phone. "I've got to call Saul Morey right away. He's waiting to hear from me the minute we arrive. I haven't met him. Clark says he's the top dog in southern California with the organization."

  "How long will we be here?" I asked, feeling sick to my stomach.

  Dick stretched and swung his arms around. "If everything goes as planned, we should be ready to leave L.A. by tomorrow morning."

  I unpacked the few items needed for the overnight stay as Dick opened the connecting door to Gregg's room. "Everything okay, sport?"

  Nodding his head, Gregg waved a greeting. He reached for the television remote and flopped down on the bed.

  An hour later, Saul Morey lightly tapped on our door.

  After a brief greeting, the two men hurried down to Morey's car. I leaned on the balcony railing, watching as they unloaded two huge black garbage bags from the trunk of Saul 's Cadillac, then try, unsuccessfully, to stuff them into the empty trunk of my Olds.

  Dick shrugged his shoulders.

  Each of the men hefted up one of the heavily laden bags, then carried them up the stairs and into our motel room, where they quickly shut the door and dumped them in a corner.

  Saul Morey turned, nodded good-bye to me, reached for the door, and motioned Dick to follow him. They hurried down the stairs and stood talking by Morey's late model Cadillac for a minute or two. Then Morey slapped the hood of his car, climbed in and sped away.

  Now Gregg knew the purpose of the trip.

  Dick came back in our room and poked his head through the open door to Gregg's room. "I'm going to give you some privacy, sport, and your Mom and I could use a little of that too. We'll be going out to eat in a bit."

  "Sure thing, Dick," Gregg answered, sniffing the air.

  I confronted my husband. "Why did you bother closing the door? Gregg's not dumb. He knows exactly what's going on."

  "It doesn't matter if he knows or not," Dick said, frowning. "We've got bigger problems right now."

  I sat down on the edge of the bed and waited.

  "I hate to tell you this," Dick went on. "But Saul jus
t told me that a fruit fly infestation has hit the West Coast. That's what we talked about before he left. The bugs have already spoiled millions of dollars' worth of agricultural crops."

  "What does that have to do with us?" I asked, fearful of the answer.

  Dick took a deep breath. "In order to prevent the spread to neighboring states, the California State police are planning to set up check points at the Nevada and Arizona state borders. Saul said we'd be smart to get out of California as soon as possible."

  I stood up, startled. "This is terrible! We have to give those bags back to Saul! We can't take the risk!"

  "Saul's not dumb either. He already told me that he won't be around to take the stuff back. We've got it and we're stuck with it. Don't worry, our luck will hold."

  "Oh Lord," I sat back down. "What an unholy mess."

  Having no choice in the matter, I resigned myself to the predicament. I knocked on Gregg's door. "Fifteen minutes notice for dinner, Honey. Will you be ready?"

  "Anytime, Mom. You know me. If it's been more than half an hour since the last meal, I'm ready to eat."

  I couldn't help chuckling at the one spark of normalcy in this otherwise dizzying abnormal day--a teenager's ravenous appetite.

  We settled for a fast food restaurant down the block where Dick and Gregg succeeded in getting their mouths around enormous hamburgers, dove into a mountain of french fries and washed it all down with chocolate shakes. I picked at my food, my stomach doing flip-flops. Gregg discretely did not allude to the two huge bags of marijuana that now sat in our motel room.

  That night Dick, as usual, slept like a baby. I spent a fitful night admonishing myself for being here at all, and especially for not putting up more of a struggle to prevent my son's involvement in this dreadful danger.

  Early the next morning, Dick quickly dressed. "I'll be back in a few minutes," he said, and dashed out of the motel room. "I'm going to buy some smaller garbage bags."

  Twenty minutes later, he and I hurriedly re-packed the marijuana into six double lined trash bags. Dick asked Gregg's help in loading the smaller bags of marijuana into the trunk of my car.

  Dick checked out of the motel in a flash and climbed behind the wheel of the car. "I want to get out of Los Angeles...fast. We'll get breakfast later."

  "Fine," Gregg and I both said.

  Driving well within the speed limit, Dick headed for the California / Nevada border. Hours later, Gregg spotted the yellow arches of a McDonald's for a drive-through bag of Egg McMuffins, potato patties, milk and coffee.

  Then, to my dismay, Dick told Gregg of the fruit fly situation and the possible problem that lay ahead.

  "Oh boy," Gregg murmured, shook his head and began chewing on the knuckle of a finger. The closer we came to the state line, the more anxious my son and I became.

  Dick appeared nonplussed and chatted merrily. Perhaps to cover his own anxiety.

  Arriving at the Nevada state line, Gregg and I breathed a sigh of relief. There was no sign of road blocks or police cars. Just to break the tension, I said, "Good news fellows, you have nothing to worry about, they're not holding fly checks today."

  Safely inside the state of Nevada, he brightened, "How about that stop in Las Vegas? We'll spend the rest of the day to celebrate our good luck?"

  In unison, Gregg and I agreed. "Great, let's go!"

  Caesar's Palace was an awesome edifice, offering an exciting change of pace from our weary days of travel and tension. "I'll find you two later," Dick said, heading for the crap tables.

  Raring to go, with excitement in his eyes and money in his jeans, Gregg said, "Mom, I'm going to try some of the slot machines."

  "Alright, Honey, have fun. And if we get separated, we'll meet in two hours in the lounge area where they're playing music."

  I had been in Vegas years before, although yesteryear's casinos could not compare to the awe-inspiring grandeur of these structures. I paused for a moment, taking in the masses of people, the clatter of ringing bells and delightful screams when someone hit a jackpot. I wandered around, soaking up the high-energy atmosphere, before settling at a black-jack table. A few hands later, the pile of chips in front of me stood a bit taller, so I gathered them up, slid off the stool and moved on through the casino until I heard a roulette table calling my name.

  I played conservatively, placing small bets on either black or red, winning more often than not. Every few spins I'd put a minimum bet on the zero/double/zero number. Then as 'Lady Luck’ smiled on me, the friendly white ball would drop into one of the green slots. Yes, I thought, a good time to walk away and cash in. Tucking the bills into my wallet so I wouldn't be tempted to give it back to the casino, I wandered through the numerous rows of slot machines, until I spotted Gregg blissfully playing three of the one-armed bandits.

  I watched my son, happy to see the delight on his handsome face. Then a well-dressed man approached and whispered in his ear. Gregg's ecstatic expression fell. He gathered his coins in a paper cup and started to rise from his chair.

  Joining him, I asked what had happened.

  "Oh! Hi, Mom. Looks like the end of my fun time. The guy works for the casino and told me that I'd have to stop gambling. Legal age is twenty-one. Oh well, I did have fun while it lasted." Cashing in his coins, we drifted over to the live band area and waited for Dick.

  Dick appeared out of the maze of people and dropped down on the plush chair next to me with a frown on his face. "Hey. Any luck?" I asked.

  "Yeah, all bad. Let's eat here, and then hit the road. Chicago's a long way off."

  After a ho-hum dinner at Caesar's Palace, we left the glittering lights of Las Vegas behind. Night had fallen, so Gregg climbed into the back seat and curled up with a pillow. Dick filled the gas tank while I studied the road atlas.

  "How about heading north into Utah, then south to Arizona,” I suggested. “Looking at the map, it's not much out of the way. And if the fruit fly barricades are being set up, we may have a better chance of getting through on a secondary road running from Utah, rather than driving an interstate highway from Nevada to Arizona."

  "Makes sense to me," Dick agreed. "We don't need to add any more road time, but it's probably a good idea."

  We sped along Nevada's flat terrain for hours, then crossed into Utah with no problems. We all started to feel more secure.

  Gregg leaned over the front seat. "Hey, guys. How about letting me drive for awhile. I've got my license and I'll be real careful."

  Dick stopped the car and exchanged seats with Gregg. "Okay, sport, it's all yours."

  Soon, on that moonless night, we found ourselves in the middle of Utah's Zion National Park, on a narrow two-lane road hovering on the very edge of steep mountain cliffs.

  Wisely, Gregg slowed the car to a crawl. "Who wants to drive? I don't feel comfortable on these roads."

  "Jen, I'm whipped," said Dick. "How about you taking over?"

  "Alright."

  Gregg continued to inch the car along--our chins jutting out over the dashboard, peering into the blackness as we scouted out a place to pull off the road. The narrow curving strip of pavement had no shoulder at all. Trees, cliffs and huge boulders hugged either side of the road.

  Finally, we came to a straight stretch. "You may as well slow down and stop now. We'll make a fast switch."

  Gregg stopped and put on the emergency brake, then switched on the hazard lights. We jumped out and quickly changed positions. As I drove on, Dick tried to relax with his head braced against the passenger seat window on a pillow. In the back seat, Gregg did the same.

  We gained some speed after our hazardous stop. "Gregg, I'm glad you decided not to drive any further. This is, without a doubt, the most frightening road I've ever been on, and on a pitch black night to boot."

  Gregg clucked. "I know what you're saying, Mom. I think the state of Utah should put up signs warning people not to drive this road at night. Or at least hand out pacemakers for a weak
heart." Dick and I laughed at that.

  I gripped the steering wheel tightly for hours, as we made our way along the serpentine mountainous terrain taking ninety-degree turns. I couldn't remember the last time I had felt so exhausted. Dick and Gregg tried, unsuccessfully, to doze.

  At long last, daybreak revealed another beautiful mountain range as we approached the Arizona state line. Then my eyes popped open wide! A rush of pure panic replaced my sleepiness and exhaustion. My heart leaped up and settled in my throat as I spotted the police roadblock just ahead.

  The narrow road offered no room to turn around. And even if we could have gone back the way we had come, attempting to avoid the blockade would surely have aroused instant suspicion and a chase. Two Arizona State Patrol cars sat parked on either side of the road. Five or six uniformed officers were checking car interiors and trunks.

  I moaned. "Oh no!"

  Dick and Gregg uncurled themselves, sat up straight, and took in the situation. I glanced at Dick. He looked unruffled.

  I was panic stricken. "What in the world are we going to do?"

  "No problem. Just play it cool," Dick said calmly.

  I slowed down. Three passenger cars ahead of us were parked with their trunks wide open, law enforcement officers bent over them. Oh, God! I thought. If a trooper tells us to open the trunk, we're sunk. The stench of one hundred forty-four pounds of marijuana would hit his nostrils like a sledgehammer. My sixteen-year-old son would surely be taken away from me and end up motherless. Dick and I would be arrested, tried, convicted and live our lives behind prison bars, probably for decades to come.

  Looking in the rear view mirror at my son, I saw that his face had drained of color and turned into a pale mask of apprehension. "Gregg, pretend to be half asleep, with your head scrunched into the pillow in the corner."

  He nodded in understanding, immediately relaxed his body, tilted his head into the pillow, and half-closed his eyes.

  We slowed down, next in line. The state trooper waved me forward. I inched the car up next to him, came to a full stop, shifted into park and left the motor running. The electric window seemed to take forever to lower. When it was all the way down, I nodded at the officer and gave him a slight smile. "Hi!"