Devil's Deal

by Terri Lynn Coop

Snow pursed his lips in an expression I’ve seen in court and during interviews when he’s asked a question he didn’t like. “Yes, Miss Martin, the state prosecution is on board with whatever comes out of this discussion.”

  His simple statement spoke volumes. They didn’t give a flip about the dead stripper. She was a prop and a force-multiplier.

  “Mr. Snow, please cut the opening statement. What do you want from me? My father is obviously the bait. Show me the hook and let me decide if I’m willing to swallow it.”

  Snow and Jackson exchanged a glance. After a tense moment, Jackson spoke. “Without going into classified details, the NSA caught chatter containing your father’s name in conjunction with some geographical keywords we’ve been following. Further analysis added an additional recurring keyword. The electronic intelligence has been confirmed via tangible assets.”

  “Nice spook-speak. You sure you’re not with the CIA?” I concentrated on Simon to keep my emotions in check. I’d been dead on about the true quarry of this hunt. Refilling his water cup, I chose my words carefully. “Okay, I’ll be equally coy. You don’t need to say anything, but if I’m correct, stand on one foot and quack like a duck. The geographical keyword is Congo and your mystery keyword is Rockhound.” The body language around the table told me I’d hit double-letter on a triple-word score. No one was quacking, but close enough.

  Time to cut to the chase. “You want Rockhound. You can do it slow, the old-fashioned way, or you can use me. Why now? He’s been at it for years, since the end of the Second Congo War in 2004. We didn’t get involved until his exposure took him big-time and he needed go-betweens. After his fifteen minutes were up, he didn’t need us as much. I don’t think I’ve talked to him in months. His gig is problematic, but there’s a certain pragmatism to it.” I gestured to the assistant’s laptop.

  Every word I said was true except I knew exactly when I’d seen Rockhound last: the night before Cami Floyd was strangled.

  Something was off in the vibe around the table. Then it hit me.

  “None of you have a clue about who Rockhound is.”

  “Miss Martin, you don’t need to concern yourself as to the scope of our information. You only need to worry about what’s going to save your father. Please continue,” said Snow.

  I met his eyes, looking for the tic or the tell. That cue clueing me into what was in the cards I couldn’t see. The hum of the lights and Simon’s light fussing sounded huge in the silence. I was content to stare him down all day when a shrill beep broke Snow’s concentration. Price silenced his cell phone and swiped a text. I made my decision.

  “I’m not saying another fucking word until a deal is on the table. If you want to see what’s in the hole, you’re going to have to pay for it.”

  CHAPTER 28

  “Miss Martin, you might want to reconsider. This meeting could become a lot less informal,” said Jackson.

  I adopted his snippy tone. “Mr. Jackson, I have considered it and I thank you for your concern for my comfort and safety. Now, as to that deal.”

  As the glances whipping around the peripheral vision of the group, I was inwardly furious with myself. I’d almost spilled a crucial fact before I had anything to show for it. I needed to change the momentum.

  “I’d like to call for a break. I need to walk my dog and call my lawyer, who also represents my dad. If I’m going to be discussing his future, I need to let him know what’s going on. Can one of you lead me outside? I forgot to spread bread crumbs in the hall.” I nodded to Price.

  “This is unacceptable. We have issues to discuss.” Jackson was still evidently smarting from my takedown. He’d shredded a Styrofoam coffee cup.

  “Then I’m exercising my freedom to leave. The next time we talk it will be with my lawyer after I’ve declined to waive my Miranda and Fifth Amendment rights. It’s your call, gentlemen.”

  “Thirty minutes,” said Snow.

  “That’ll work. Come on, Simon, let’s go walkies. After you, Agent Price.”

  With the conference door closed, the cool quiet hall was a sanctuary. I was about to say something to Price, when he put a finger to his lips and cupped one ear. I got his drift. Even though the meeting wasn’t technically being recorded, the place was probably lousy with parabolic mics. Every cruiser was equipped with one and they could easily penetrate walls. Without thinking, I winked and said the one thing most prominent on my mind: “Where’s the ladies’ room?”

  His response surprised me. With a smile he offered me his arm. Wrapping my hand around a bicep with the consistency of a fresh tennis ball, I walked with him down the hall.

  CHAPTER 29

  Once outside, I headed for a bench tucked into a walled grotto where I should be able to speak privately. On the way, I channeled my inner twelve-year-old by letting Simon pee on the tires of Fisk’s cruiser. Considering his size, the output was impressive.

  With a final backward look at Price, who was bent over his phone typing a text message, I dialed Gerald, hoping he’d be there.

  “Hey, it’s me.”

  “You’re awfully sure of yourself. I get a lot of calls.”

  “Sorry, Gerald, but I don’t have a lot of time. The law caught up with me.” The sound of his chair snapping upright came through the phone loud and clear.

  “Juliana, are you under arrest? Do I need to get down there?”

  “No. In fact, I’m being handled with kid gloves. The big guns are here. There’s Snow and Jackson from DOJ and a high-ranking Ranger. Also, an FBI agent I can’t get a bead on. Somehow they clued into Rockhound, but I discovered they don’t know who he is. I was right. They’re using Dad to box me in to something.”

  “Sweetie, I do not like this at all. Every instinct is telling me to get you out of there.”

  “Thanks. I do not disagree with you. Right this minute, this is off the record. If we go formal, it’ll force their hand and I’ll end up with an indictment like the one they dropped on Dad. Let me play this out.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Let me try to make a deal. My biggest clean yet. I’ll start the bidding at full-boat immunity. Gerald, we both know the RICO has meat on it. They may demand some counts.”

  “Anybody else, I’d say no. But you’re even better at this than I am. Okay, make the deal. Tommy gets the final say on whether it’s a go or a throw.”

  “I plan on coming up there as soon as I get out of here. The three of us need to talk.” A discreet cough told me Price was coming up the path. Break time must be up.

  “I’ve need to go. I’ll call you when I’m out of the meeting. When my phone died you said you had info for me. Anything I need to know right now?”

  “Nothing that can’t wait, I’ll tell you at dinner. You make sure you are free to come to dinner, if you get my meaning.”

  “Five-by-five. See you soon.” I closed the phone and pulled Simon away from the tree he found so fascinating. Price came around the corner. Instead of the quip I expected, his expression was thunderous and detached. I sensed the anger was not directed at me, so I rolled with it and didn’t speak as I followed him back to the conference room.

  CHAPTER 30

  I took my place at the head of the table. Snow, Jackson, and the assistant took the seats to my right, leaving the left side to the two cops. It was quite obvious who was going to be doing the talking. I also noticed the coffee and tea service had been removed. Even Simon’s water cup was gone. Nothing was left except the brass tacks.

  “Miss Martin, it’s round two, time to hear from the defense. What do you have in mind?”

  “Okay, I’ll open the bidding at full transactional immunity for both myself and my father. Nothing sticks. We both walk. If this clusterjump turns up a pending traffic ticket, it is washed clean.”

  Jackson’s face was classic. Snow put out a hand to silence him. “Maybe in some alternate universe, but not in this one.”

  “Then make me a counteroffer.”

  “Derivative immunity
for you, with you full cooperation and testimony. For your father, depending on whether or not we need his testimony, we’d be willing to be flexible on the murder charge.”

  My sweaty fingertips made squiggles on the polished oak table, drawing a frown from the Ranger like I was defiling it.

  “If that’s the best you’ve got, then I wish you well,” I said, gathering Simon’s leash. While my offer had been excessive, Snow’s was insulting. With derivative immunity, they’d be able to hang me with anything that came to light during the operation. The plan percolating in my mind included a lot of law-breaking, so I was going to need a full-boat free walk.

  “Hold on. You said to make a counteroffer. We’ve now set the goalposts. Be realistic, Juliana. What gets this done?” Price’s voice was low and smooth. His good mood had not returned.

  Somewhat mollified, I relaxed. “Okay, since most of this falls on me, I will not settle for anything less than transactional immunity. Not one iota less.”

  Snow and Jackson exchanged a couple of notes. They flipped the notepad toward Price and the Ranger, out of my sight. Price nodded and the Ranger made a disgusted noise.

  “Okay, Miss Martin. Upon conviction of this Rockhound, you’ll receive full immunity.”

  “No.”

  From their expressions, this was not the answer they’d expected. Only Price looked amused.

  “We’re giving you everything you asked for. What do you want? Should we engrave it on rose-scented parchment?” said Jackson, rolling his eyes.

  “Cute. My freedom will not depend on your ability to get a conviction. Rockhound has contacts and resources you could only dream of. The Rangers could bungle the takedown and he’d be on a plane to any one of a dozen extradition-free countries. He could decide to turn state’s evidence by ratting out someone else. My immunity attaches immediately, regardless of the outcome, and nothing I reveal can be used against my father. This is total deep background. I will never testify against him. That is my final offer.”

  Snow’s face made it clear I’d caught him trying to pull something. Mixed with his consternation was a twinge of respect.

  “Make the deal and I’ll give you some information that even if we part company will tell you what you’re hunting for. You only get Rockhound’s name when we settle on my father.”

  “Price, did you receive any guidance from the Director?” asked Jackson.

  “Sir, you represent the AG and DOJ in this. As far as the Director is concerned, the FBI is on board.”

  Messenger boy, my ass.

  “Major Nesbitt, how about the Texas Rangers? You’re here representing the interests of state law enforcement,” asked Snow.

  The name tripped my memory. Not the director, but Carl Nesbitt was the commander of this region and Fisk’s boss. I was in rare air indeed.

  “Me personally, I think it stinks. The Martins are the reason people hate lawyers. Give me some time and manpower and we’ll crack this case and bring these scumbags and this so-called Rockhound to justice the old-fashioned way.” Nesbitt hadn’t said a word all day, but obviously he shared Fisk’s high opinion of me.

  “Sir, your objections have been noted. However, last night I had a discussion with the governor and he is in favor of a speedy and discreet resolution of this.” Snow passed a couple of notes to the assistant.

  It pays to have friends downtown. Back when Governor Jensen was still Candidate Jensen, he’d had a little bimbo eruption that I’d tidied up for him. Gratis. He also had a fondness for Dad’s parties. Parties like the one that precipitated this mess.

  “All right, Miss Martin, you have your deal. We’ll draw up an official version, but I hope this will suffice for the moment.” Snow handed me the notepad his assistant had been working on. In painfully neat script, the bones of the deal and the agencies it involved were laid out. When I signed my name under Snow’s, I was simultaneously committed and off the hook.

  The relief around the table was palpable. The ice broken, it was time to get this party started. No reason to wait. In fact, I was ready to talk about it. I’d carried it far too long.

  “Have any of you ever heard of coltan?”

  CHAPTER 31

  Evidently no one had. I wasn’t surprised. Rocks don’t make the news like diamonds, even when they are infinitely more valuable and vital.

  “I’m not going to devolve into a science lecture, but, coltan, short for columbite-tantalite, is one of the backbones of the electronics industry. Tantalite is mission-critical to capacitors.”

  No response. They weren’t gaslighting me. They truly didn’t know what was going on.

  “Here’s the short-form version. The Democratic Republic of Congo is rich in this and other ores. Sociologists call it the ‘resource curse.’ The forced mining and smuggling finances the private wars going on there. The country is rich enough in raw materials to keep buying guns forever. You’ve all heard of conflict diamonds, correct?”

  Everyone nodded.

  “Welcome to the world of conflict minerals. Rockhound started as a broker when he was in Congo on a church mission and met some players. It escalated when circumstances elevated him onto the international stage. He acts as a liaison between certain volatile military factions and the electronic manufacturers, mostly in China. He sets the price, handles finances, arranges transport, and if need be, supplies the feel-good documents saying the shipment is from outside the conflict zone, such as Australia. He does it all, with, of course, a hefty cut as the middleman.”

  “How come I’ve never heard of this,” said Nesbitt.

  I bit back the snark. Typical Texan. If he didn’t know about it, then it obviously wasn’t happening. He was drumming his nicotine-yellow fingers on the table. I did a quick count of how long we’d been at this and realized he must be about to jones out of his skin. I’d never loved indoor air-quality regulations more.

  “Sir, I have no clue what you know and don’t know. As for me, spending a week in a Congolese mining camp was quite convincing.”

  “Continue, Miss Martin, I’m all ears,” said Snow.

  “Despite the official end of the Second Congo War, business was brisk. China was screaming for the stuff and there were still plenty of people who wanted to kill each other. At least half the mines in Congo are controlled by different factions. Rockhound contracted with the law firm to set up funding transfers, documents, tax shelters, that sort of thing. I was chosen as the courier because of my well-known discretion and ability to deal with unpleasant situations.”

  “What are we talking about in dollars?” asked Snow.

  “Well, it’s not like they file stockholder reports, but the black market is in the hundreds of millions a year and Rockhound is a major player. Now, can I ask a question?”

  “Depends,” said Snow.

  “Fair enough. I repeat, why now? This situation has been going on for decades. Laws are clunking along, pinching the trade. Even if you take down Rockhound, another will take his place. What is so important that we are sitting in this room and my dad is sitting in jail? I need to know. It may affect how I approach the operation.”

  Snow and Jackson looked to Price, who nodded slightly. The Ranger was suspicious. Maybe he hadn’t been briefed on this.

  Jackson spoke. “Remember when I told you we’d confirmed what we’d picked up from the electronic chatter? Well, confirmation came in documents we recovered when we broke up a sleeper cell in Dallas. They could be al-Qaeda operatives with ties to Congo and Yemen. We’ve never found them this far south before, in Texas or Africa. It looks like the operation you helped put in motion has found a new player.”

  Holy shit. Dad, what did you get me into?

  “It’s not my op. Playing the terrorist card won’t work with me. Why isn’t Homeland Security at the table?”

  “For the moment, this is still a domestic criminal investigation. They are aware and support our actions. Miss Martin, who is Rockhound?”

  “First, we talk about my father,�
� I said with a bravado that was shaky at best.

  Snow leaned forward and met my gaze directly. “Here is our offer. I’ll go derivative immunity only on this mess and he cooperates fully. Anything in the RICO case relating to this will be dismissed. He stands tall on the rest of the charges. This case was well under development before this came up. He makes a deal and pleads, or takes his chances at trial.”

  “Transactional on this case. None of it sticks to my dad, no matter what turns up.”

  Snow’s expression dropped the temp in the room five degrees. “Miss Martin, you have to have skin in this game or I can’t trust you. That skin is your father. Bring me what I need. The higher the pile, the sweeter the deal.”

  My fear turned to resolve. I would wipe the smirk off of Snow’s face. He had no clue what was going on right in his backyard. I nodded. “Game on. What about the murder?”

  “That plays out at the state level. But, our enthusiasm will wane and I can guarantee it will be concurrent with any federal time.”

  That told me a couple of things. One, the death penalty would disappear. The other is Texas would do as it was told. No wonder Nesbitt was in such a pissy mood. Still, I had to push my cards further. “Not good enough. I want the murder dismissed. Dad had nothing to do with it. He is well alibied. How about I bring you information on the real killer? Nothing I can prove, but I can tell the cops where they need to dig.”

  “You bring me something solid and we’ll talk.” Snow sat back. The only sound was the assistant’s pen flying across the notepad. Snow signed and passed it to me.

  I scribbled my name at the bottom. “I can only sign this as to what I said. I have to go to Dallas and talk to him and his lawyer. It’s pro forma, but I have to do it.”

  “Not acceptable. We have to leave for D.C. this evening,” said Jackson.

  “C’mon, we’re”—I looked around—”almost all lawyers here. I’ll bet your scribe was editor of his law review. You know I can’t bind a client without discussing it with him. We still have to do the rose-scented agreements anyway.” The dig was heavy in my voice.