by Jane Gorman
Ramona grinned. “Or if his lawyer thinks it will.”
Adam nodded his agreement. “I’ll give you a call when I’m done here?”
“Sure.” Ramona patted his arm as she passed by him, heading back toward the elevators. “Have fun in there.”
Adam walked back to the assistant, his hands in his pockets.
“Are you ready now?” The young man’s voice was high and strained.
“Sure, lead the way.”
Adam wiped the grin off his face as soon as he turned the corner through the glass doors. The lawyer they had met yesterday stood waiting for him, leaning against the door jamb of McFellan’s office, one pointy heel pushing against the wall as if holding it up.
He was not looking forward to this interview.
24
Sam took the corner at speed, this time not caring if his tires cried out. It was sixteen minutes since he’d first gotten the call from Jackie. Even with the siren going, DC traffic was tough to get through. He’d been lucky, managing to work his way across town avoiding the worst of the gridlock.
A squad car stood a block ahead, parked at an angle into the curb. He pulled up behind it and took a breath. Whatever was going on here, he needed to stay calm.
He stepped out of his vehicle, badge in hand.
A door opened on the car in front of him, front passenger side. The driver stayed in the car with the perp. Even with the glare from the afternoon sun, he could see a head in the back seat. Sitting at that familiar awkward angle of a man with his hands cuffed. Troy.
He turned his attention to the uniformed officer walking toward him, hand on his weapon. He held his badge out higher. “Diplomatic Security.” His voice sounded loud to his ears in the otherwise quiet of the neighborhood. A dog barked as he spoke, then turned its attention to something else. He heard no other sirens. No sound of a chase. No friendly voices calling to each other over back fences, as he would around Howard’s house. “Agent Sam Burke.”
As the officer stepped closer, Sam smiled and breathed out. He hadn’t realized he was still holding his breath. “Tonado. Good to see you.”
“You, too, Burke. Whatcha doing here?” Gerry Tonado smiled in return. “Haven’t seen much of you since you moved on to bigger and better things.”
Tonado was old school. He’d been in uniform when Sam still worked with MPDC, and looked like he hadn’t moved on. Sam knew he’d always enjoyed being a cop. A real cop, on the street, not behind a desk.
He’d grown up on a block not far from Sam’s. Knew the dangers and strengths of the District’s streets, the ongoing struggle to preserve the neighborhoods, the value of family. Their similar experiences growing up had sealed the friendship that started naturally between the two men.
Tonado’s radio spit static into the air, the cop pausing to listen. Sam couldn’t make it out from this distance.
“I hear you got someone there who’s of interest to me,” Sam explained. “Troy Davis.”
“Yeah, we got him.” He nodded his head in the direction of his squad car. “I recognized the name, too. Though it wasn’t you I was expecting to see.”
Sam smiled. “Davis would be here in an instant if he knew his boy was in this kind of trouble.”
Tonado grinned, leaning back against Sam’s car as his radio blared again. This time Sam heard the call, officers returning to the scene. Sam joined him against the car. The sun had already heated the fiberglass and Sam felt it burning through his trouser legs, but he didn’t mind the warmth.
“I gotta help Troy. You understand that, right?”
Tonado jerked his head to one side. Half an acknowledgement. “We already called it in.”
Sam nodded, looking around. “Where are the others? I heard there were two other perps.”
Tonado pointed up the street the way Sam had come. “They ran off, Lewis and Murphy after them.” He gestured to his radio with his chin. “Sounds like they got away. They’re gonna want to keep Troy, he’s the only one left.”
Sam looked at his friend, his voice low. “He’s Davis’ boy. You know Davis. You know this would kill him.”
Tonado frowned and turned to see the second squad car crawling toward them. “I don’t know, Sam. Chief’s never gonna accept this.”
Sam grinned and stood, hearing the acceptance in the other man’s voice. “You’ll think of something, buddy, I know you will. You’re doing the right thing.”
Tonado pushed up off the car as the other two got close enough to call to him through an open window. Sam recognized one but not the other.
Tonado spoke to the others as he walked beside their car. Sam could just make out a few words… diplomatic security, federal agency. The unknown officer rolled his eyes and glanced back at Sam. Within a minute, he was pulling Troy out from the back of the squad car. Leading him over to Sam.
Sam stood and opened his back door. “You can take the cuffs off, I don’t need those.”
Troy glanced at him, recognition in his eyes, but he kept his mouth shut. The officer did as requested, leaving Troy in Sam’s custody. He shook his head as he walked back to his partner. Sam didn’t wait around for them to change their minds.
He glanced at Troy in the rearview mirror as he turned his vehicle around, heading back toward Howard’s house.
“Tell me what happened, Troy. The truth.”
Troy shrugged, his eyes staring out the window. He didn’t speak.
Sam cursed and jerked the wheel to the right, his right tires bumping up over the curb as he pulled the car over. He turned around in his seat.
“I’m here to help you, Troy. I stopped them from booking you, but I can only do so much. You gotta help me here. What’s going on?”
Troy looked at Sam and smiled. He shrugged again. “It’s dope, man, what else?”
Sam kept his lips tight. “Who were the other guys?”
“Like I know.” Troy’s anger seeped through his words, though his voice was quiet. “You think we exchange Christmas cards or something?”
“How did you find them? How did they find you?”
Troy shrugged again. “I dunno. A friend told me to meet them. Told me they could get me a score. And they woulda, too”— he turned his eyes on Sam — “if your asshole friends hadn’t shown up.”
“Who were they, Troy?” Sam repeated his question.
He wanted to reach back across the seat and smack Troy when he shrugged again. “I dunno, I told you.”
“What do you know?” Sam did his best to control his voice, sound patient. He would wait Troy out if he had to.
“Look, I don’t know who they were. French, I think. I don’t know their names, okay?” He glanced out the window again, though the scenery hadn’t changed. A chain link fence surrounded a ragged yard, a few weeds that couldn’t cover the dirt that used to be a lawn. “There was a place.”
“Tell me, Troy.”
“They called it like… I dunno, I didn’t understand. It reminded me of that hotel, the Embassy Suites. Maybe they would meet up at that hotel.”
Sam kept his face clear, his voice calm. Only his fingers gripping the back of the seat next to him gave away his excitement, but Troy seemed not to notice.
“When’d they talk about that place?”
“I dunno.” Troy looked up at the ceiling of the car, as if hoping to float up and out of the way of Sam’s questions.
“Try again, Troy.”
“They got a call,” the boy was whining now, “that’s all I know. Some dude was making them mad. They were joking about him and sayin’ they were going to their place to take care of him.”
Sam thought about what Troy was telling him. It didn’t make sense. He looked at Troy. “How do you know what they said? How good’s your French?”
Troy grinned. “It sucks. I took it in high school, like Ramona. This wasn’t normal French, either. They talked weird.” He screwed his face up at the recollection of it.
“French Africa, maybe,” Sam thought out lo
ud. “A former colony.”
“Whatever.” Troy shrugged again. “I dunno, could be. When this guy made them mad, their voices changed. They’d like… say it slowly. But with a sneer. Like I said, weird.”
Sam nodded, turning his attention away from Troy to the street outside his car. His mind was elsewhere, not seeing the peeling paint of the house next door, the rusted-out shell of a car parked ahead. He turned back to Troy. “Tell me more about the guy who made them mad. Did they work for him? Or were they afraid of him?”
“Yep.” Troy smiled.
“What does that mean?”
“Yes, to both, I think. What the hell do I know?” Troy’s anger flared again and he smacked the wall of the car. “Here I am, standing on a corner, knowing the cops are out there and trying to get clear before they show up. And these two assholes” — Troy screwed up his forehead and looked at Sam — “they’re standing around having phone conversations. What a bunch of idiots.”
“They are idiots, Troy. What the hell you thinking getting involved with them?”
“Here we go.”
Sam turned again in his seat, putting his hands back on the steering wheel. “I’m taking you home. Your parents will have something to say about this.”
Troy sneered, “That’s not my home anymore. I moved out a year ago.”
Sam glanced back at Troy in the mirror. “I’m going to have to tell Ramona, too. She’ll find out soon enough, anyway. Do you want me to tell her, or will you?”
“You tell her, I don’t care. Nothing she can do anyway.”
Sam heard the anguish in Tish’s voice as she called to Troy, her voice carrying from inside the house. Angry, but hopeful. Desperate even. The young man had thrown himself down on the couch in the basement, TV on, as soon as he’d walked in the house, and was now completely ignoring her. Sam shook his head.
“I’m so sorry, Howard.”
The older man shook his head slowly. “I started asking questions, you know? And I talked to people who had heard some things.” His lips turned up into a tight grin. “I thought I’d be bringing you news, Sam, not the other way around. Not this.” He looked down the street to where the corner of the national park could be seen. “Not about Troy.”
Sam looked down at his hands. “I’m so sorry,” he repeated.
Howard nodded, slapping his hands against his legs. “We’ll deal with him. At least we can now, thanks to you.” He turned to face Sam. “I can’t tell you how much it means to us, you watching out for our boy like that.”
“You know I’m always here for you and your family.”
Howard nodded again. “I know… and I’m here for you, too, old friend. Like I said, I made some calls since yesterday, found some people willing to talk about that ambassador and his staff.”
Sam stood from his chair and walked to the end of the narrow porch. It was one of a line, stretching down the block, house after house filled with people with such promise, and at risk of such despair. He turned back to Howard. “What did you learn?”
“The guy’s kind of an asshole.”
Sam laughed. “Saint-Amand? I didn’t expect that. He’s always in such control.”
“Well— ” Howard shrugged. “He may be a great diplomat, but people can see through him. He’s all about control, you know?”
“In his household? Or in his job?”
“Both.” Howard nodded as Sam took the folding chair next to him again. Howard continued, “He’s vocal on his position when it comes to France — tighter immigration restrictions. Tighter restrictions for immigrants once they’re in France. Keep France French, that kind of thing.”
Sam nodded, thinking. “Which is hard for some people to agree with.”
“Oh, yeah. The man doesn’t even want girls to be allowed to wear a cross or a burka to school. He’s a fanatic.”
Sam frowned. “So he gets in the way of the drug trade, which relies on immigrants, is that it?”
“Well…” Howard shrugged and put his head to the right side. “May not be that clear-cut, I’m afraid.”
“Tell me.”
“It’s only rumors, you understand? I got nothing substantiated. Just cops who heard things on the street, but no one who’s a witness, no one who could testify.”
“I understand.” Sam nodded. “And I’ll treat it like a rumor. Every little bit helps, you know that.”
“I do indeed.” Howard smiled. “Hell, I taught you that.” He blinked, looking down at his hands clasped tightly on his lap. Sam thought again how much time had changed Howard, his large, strong hands now bony and wrinkled, the skin turning gray around the knuckles and nails.
“Rumor has it,” Howard said, “that the Ambassador puts up a strong front, but turns around and benefits from the drug trade in secret. Behind closed doors.”
Sam studied his friend’s face for a moment, considering his next words. “That’s not so uncommon, really, is it? The most fanatical can also be the first to fall.”
“I guess.” Howard shrugged. “Like I said, nothing substantiated. Nothing you could act on.”
“Even if he didn’t have diplomatic immunity.” Sam stood again as he spoke. “Which he does.”
The breeze had picked up again, always a welcome guest in DC’s hot summer months. Sam watched as the flag across the street kicked up its patriotic dance. He loved this town and the people who lived here. The alleys like this one that made up the heart of District neighborhoods. Even when posted overseas, he had longed for the nights hanging out in his own back garden, messing with his greens, sharing fishing tips with neighbors. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and could hear again the blues sounds of Charlie Patton, the pungent smell of pork on the grill. The friends and the trust.
He knew that boys like Troy also faced challenges. For some, insurmountable challenges. Troy had all the advantages — a good home, good parents who cared about him. A sister.
“Do you think Ramona knows what Troy’s gotten involved in?” Harold’s question jolted Sam, following so directly from his own thoughts.
“I don’t know.” He raised his shoulders as he turned back to his friend. “If she knew, she’d be trying to help him. Same way I did today. Maybe she wouldn’t tell you, I don’t know.”
“She’s a good girl, our Mona. Don’t know why her brother doesn’t take after her more.”
Sam smiled, remembering the two of them playing on this very front yard. Ramona had always been the one in charge. The one calling the shots. Sam had also noticed that Troy only played along when it suited him. He’d never really believed Ramona was in control of Troy.
Not then, and not now.
“I’ll talk to her, Howard. See what she knows. See what she can do to help him.”
Howard nodded and frowned. “Thank you, Sam. Thank you.”
25
“Pete, any news?” Adam answered the call without preamble, glad his partner was calling so soon.
“Just wanted to let you know I’m on it. I’m here with Julia now.”
“Thanks, buddy. I really appreciate this.” Adam stepped toward the gray stone wall of the building next to him, out of the path of the busy flow of pedestrians moving up and down K Street. A river of gray and black suits, each tailored to its wearer, flowed seamlessly along the wide sidewalk. A choreographed dance of lobbyists, staffers, and political players.
“I checked in with Joe Smiley on my way over.”
Adam nodded, watching an old black man leaning over into a trashcan across the sidewalk. He bent almost double, his head down into the can as he rummaged about through it, looking for something he could use. Perhaps something he could eat. The suits flowed around him, as if not even aware he was there.
“Good thinking,” he said to Pete, knowing that Smiley, a small-time criminal who often worked in Julia’s part of town, would be more than happy to turn on a competitor. “Did he have anything to say?”
“A few ideas, yeah.” Peter’s voice became muffled for a
moment, as if he had turned his head to talk to someone else in the room. “Julia wants me to tell you she’s fine. She says she doesn’t need babysitting.” His voice returned to normal as he conveyed the message.
Adam laughed. “No kidding. She needs a police guard, is what she needs.”
“I guess that’s what she’s got then, partner.” Adam heard the smile in Peter’s voice. “I’m going to look into a couple of the names Smiley gave me.”
“What about Julia? I don’t want her staying there alone.”
“No worries, bud. She’s got a gig today, taking some shots downtown. She’ll be surrounded by people.”
“Any names I’d recognize on Smiley’s list?” Adam asked, familiar with a number of the small-timers who worked Old City.
“Yeah, the usual. You know this was probably opportunistic. We think one of the other tenants may have left the front door unlocked. Someone passing took a chance, got in. The lock to Julia’s apartment was jimmied. Nothing that required any special skills.”
“That damn Danny, I bet.” Adam pictured Julia’s unkempt neighbor. “What kind of idiot doesn’t lock a door in Philly at night?”
“It happens, you know that as well as I do. None of the residents have owned up to it, but they wouldn’t, would they?”
“Any of the other apartments robbed?”
“Yeah, the floor below Julia’s. I don’t know which they hit first. That was it. I guess they took all they could carry and got out. Like I said, it smacks of opportunism.”
“Thanks, Pete.” Adam closed his eyes as he spoke, grateful once again, as always, for his partner. “The captain giving you any trouble for working someone else’s case?”
“No… but then, he’d have to know I was doing it to do that, wouldn’t he?”
Adam grinned despite himself. “Don’t get yourself in trouble on my behalf, buddy.”