by Stuart Woods
Holly followed him to the top floor, where she was introduced to the head computer man.
“What have you got so far?” Harry asked.
“What we seem to have here are two things: one, a scheduling operation for drug shipments all over the world, from the poppy fields and jungles to the streets of American cities; and two, a collection point for cash from every corner of the United States.”
“We found a hell of a lot of that downstairs in the vault,” Harry said.
“They were shipping it out of here to points in South America and Europe,” the computer man said.
“How?”
“Apparently, in the corporate jets that brought people into the complex. Customs did their usual searches when the planes came in, but nobody searches departing aircraft. They brought in passengers and took out passengers and money.”
“We’ve already found half a dozen drug lords in residence,” Harry said. “They come here for R and R and to collect their revenues and take them home. We’re doing an analysis of the flight plans in and out of here that isn’t complete yet, but when we’re finished, we’ll know where the money was going.”
“Any idea how much money is down there?” the computer man asked.
“Not yet. Soon.”
Holly sat in the Palmetto Gardens Country Club dining room over lunch with Harry Crisp and some of his men. An FBI agent came into the room, walking fast, looking around. He spied Harry, came over to the table and handed him a sheet of paper.
Harry looked at it for about a minute, while everyone else waited to find out what was going on. Finally, he spoke. “The estimated value of the contents of the vault is a little over two billion dollars,” he said.
There was the sound of people sucking in breath, then a long silence.
“Harry,” Holly asked, “since you’re confiscating all this money on what is, after all, my turf, do you think I might be able to get a helicopter for my department?”
“Holly, I’ll get you a squadron of jet fighters, if you like, and anything else your little heart desires.”
“The helicopter will do for starters,” Holly said. “Then I’ll see what else I can think of.”
CHAPTER
62
T he evening was growing cool. Holly and Jackson sat on the beach, warmed by a driftwood fire. Daisy lay between them, her head in Holly’s lap, having her ears stroked. Eight months had passed since the Palmetto Gardens Bust, as it had become known across the country. Barney Noble was due to go on trial the following month; more than a hundred other people had taken plea bargains or been convicted of various federal and state crimes. Harry Crisp had netted eight major drug lords and more than a hundred of their underlings. Various federal law-enforcement agencies had been using Palmetto Gardens for training and recreational purposes, and a huge auction of the property would take place in another few months.
Harry Crisp was now the agent in charge of the Miami office of the Bureau, and there was talk in the papers of his being promoted to deputy director of the FBI, in a reshuffle at the Bureau. He and Holly had both been decorated by the director.
Jackson stroked Holly’s cheek. “You think you might have everything under control, now?”
“Just about,” Holly said. “But it won’t be over for me until Barney Noble has been convicted.”
“I can understand that,” Jackson said. “I was just wondering if you might be able to take two or three weeks off between now and the trial.”
“I’ve got the vacation time coming,” she said. “What did you have in mind?”
“I don’t know, where would you like to go on your honeymoon?”
Holly held his hand still. “Am I getting married?”
“Yep.”
“Anybody I know?”
“Yep.”
“When?”
“The sooner, the better. I know a judge who will perform the ceremony on short notice.”
“Wow,” Holly said.
“Wow, what?”
“I never really thought I’d get married.”
“Life is full surprises,” he said, kissing her. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“You didn’t really ask me, did you?”
“I asked you where you’d like to go on your honeymoon.”
“Oh, that,” Holly said.
“Hawaii? Europe? The Caribbean?”
Holly hugged Daisy and smiled at her fiancé. “Anyplace that takes bitches,” she said.
“I figured,” Jackson replied.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to thank my editor, HarperCollins Vice President and Associate Publisher Gladys Justin Carr, and her assistants, Elissa Altman and Deirdre O’Brien, for their hard work on and on behalf of this book. I would also like to thank Laura Leonard for her efforts in publicizing this and previous books.
I would also like to thank my agents, Morton L. Janklow and Anne Sibbald, as well as everyone else at Janklow & Nesbit for their continuing fine work in furthering my career.
I must also express my gratitude to my wife, Chris, who is always the first to read a manuscript. Her keen eye and sharp tongue help keep me out of trouble.
Finally, I would like to thank those people in a certain Florida town (which Orchid Beach may, in some ways, but not others, resemble) who have so quickly made us feel at home.
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Stuart Woods
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