Crown's Law

by Wolf Wootan

  “Are you watching their container ships?” asked Sam.

  “No. Why would we? I’m sure they wouldn’t use ships to steal military secrets.”

  “That’s the trouble with task forces. They have tunnel vision. There’s more that I know. Do you know that William Winston was an ATF agent running a sting on Dynology—trying to sell them weapons to be smuggled from Hong Kong?”

  Bo sat upright and looked Sam in the eye. “Yes. How do you know that?”

  Sam pondered how to continue. He couldn’t tell her one of his sources was Carole—and that he had been screwing her. There was a limit to how much truth you can tell one woman about another.

  “As I told you before, I have many sources. Let’s try it this way: I’ll reconstruct what I think has happened so far. That way, you won’t have to tell me any secrets if you don’t want to. You can just nod if I get it right. First of all, I know about task forces. I was on a couple when I was a cop. Too much bureaucracy, too slow. For example, Winston’s body was found on May 11. You didn’t show up to look into it until June 1. Homicides not solved in the first 48 hours seldom are.”

  “I wasn’t even informed until . . .” interjected Bo.

  Sam waved her off. “I know, I know. This is not an attack on you. Or anyone. Just an example of the uselessness of task forces. William Jackson aka William Winston had several aliases, but his real name was William Wainwright.”

  Bo’s eyes widened. She gulped some cognac. That was a deep, dark secret.

  Sam continued, “He had a sister named Carole. She also had several aliases because she was an undercover agent working for the insurance fraud unit of the FBI. She had a sting going on a Mrs. Rosemary Wellington in Newport Beach. Wellington was suspected of insurance fraud and diamond smuggling. Wellington is connected to Dynology also. I heard her on tape talking with D’Orr and Bryce, the CEO.”

  Sam paused and sipped his brandy. Bo lit another cigarette. She had no idea how he knew all this. He had to have sources other than the illegal bugs Becky had planted.

  Sam continued. “Both Winstons—actually, Wainwrights—got involved with Mickey Malone by accident. A true coincidence, which doesn’t happen in nature often. Hence, my involvement. On Sunday, April 30, William was at Sparky’s slugging down drinks. Why he was there I don’t know. He had a meeting scheduled with his Dynology contact for Monday night, but he felt nervous about it. He thought they might be wise to him. So he wrote down everything he knew about them and sealed it in an envelope. He wanted to give it to his handler, but for some reason couldn’t do that before his meeting. So he called his sister to tell her about the envelope. She had discovered that Mrs. Wellington had a private Dynology phone number stored in her cell phone. She knew her brother had also stumbled across Dynology, so she told him the number so he could compare it to what he had. That’s when he grabbed a Mickey Malone card and wrote it down.”

  Bo interrupted. “Damn, Sam! You can’t know all this!”

  “Have I said anything that doesn’t fit the facts as you know them?”

  “No. But how did you know he was talking to his sister? We don’t know that!”

  “It will become clear as I spell out the rest. William needed a safe place for his sealed envelope, and he couldn’t be seen in the company of his sister, so the Mickey Malone card gave him an idea. Attorneys and P.I.s often hold documents for clients. So he told Carole he would leave the envelope at Mickey Malone’s office and if he didn’t call her by Tuesday, she was to go to Mickey’s and get the envelope. It was left for her under the name of Cheryl Wright. She picked up the envelope from Pearl and wanted to hire Mickey to look for her brother. She couldn’t tell the FBI because she wasn’t sure anything was really wrong, and she shouldn’t have been talking to an ATF agent in any case. That’s how I got involved in looking for William Winston.”

  “She hired you to find her brother? So you’re the one who ran the prints?”

  “Our L.A. office did. I collected the prints. Then I got a court order—personally delivered by Carl Fenster—telling me to turn over everything I had and get amnesia.”

  “Where did you get the prints?” asked Bo, intrigued by his story.

  “From the envelope William left with Carole. She let Pearl lift prints off it. Then we gave it back. So the process kind of went like ‘oops’ in D.C., the Mrs. Wellington sting blew up, and then William turns up dead. I can see the bureaucracy grinding to a halt in D.C. Then you show up.”

  “What happened to the Wellington sting?” asked Bo. “How did you get involved in that?”

  Sam was now on dangerous ground. He had to leave out the hot sex part.

  “Carole Winston hired me as a bodyguard to escort her to the gala. That turned out to be a mistake. I don’t know why she hired me. I shouldn’t have been there. She knew what was going down that night.”

  Bo smiled. “I know why she hired you.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. She’s a woman and you’re . . . well, you. She fell under your spell I would guess. As I did. What happened at the gala?”

  He told her.

  “So she underestimated you, too,” laughed Bo. “Why do we women do that? I guess we never see beyond the charm . . . and sexual aura. Should I be jealous?”

  “That was before I knew you. She’s long gone. She was a client. I didn’t know she was FBI until much later. I’ve never had a case where I knew so much and still couldn’t nail the bad guys. If your damned JTFE doesn’t get off the pot and wrap this up, I will end up killing someone.”

  “God, don’t do that, Sam! We’ll nail those guys!”

  “When? Before or after they get another shot at us? Or Becky? The way I see it, your JTFE is only after some mole. They didn’t send you to Santa Ana to solve Winston’s murder. You were just there to make sure nothing got in the way of your investigation.”

  Bo was silent. She knew Sam was right.

  Sam went on, “Not a slam at you personally, Bo. It’s just that the system is wrong. Top heavy. Power games at the top. I know more about this case than anyone and I’m powerless. That says something.”

  “You know even more than you’ve told me, don’t you?” whispered Bo.

  “A bit. Not that any of it does me or you any good. Bobby D’Orr is a thug who doesn’t mind torturing his victims. Dynology smuggles most anything except drugs—weapons, diamonds, cigarettes, electronics. Even people. That’s why someone should be watching their container ships. These are evil people, Bo.”

  “How do you know they don’t smuggle drugs?”

  “Because they’re smart. They would have a serious turf war in drugs. Nobody gives a shit about the other stuff.”

  Chapter 49

  Saturday, July 7, 2001

  Big Bear Lake, CA

  Bo said, “People do care about all of that—but I do agree that JTFE is focused on espionage. That is a matter of national security, you know. Very high priority.”

  Sam shrugged. “Tell that to William Wainwright. He’s dead.”

  Bo snuggled up to Sam, put her hand on his inner thigh. “Let’s not argue. Tomorrow, I’ll call my boss and give him some of these facts you’ve summarized—get someone watching their ships. And tell him we need to find their alternate headquarters.”

  “I’m not arguing. I’m just frustrated—and worried about how to keep Becky safe until this is over.”

  She kissed him. “I know. Let’s table it for now—revisit everything tomorrow. This is such a romantic setting. Why don’t we get comfortable?”

  She removed her shirt. He smiled.

  ***

  Early the next morning, Bo called her boss at home and they talked for an hour. Sam spoke to him for ten minutes and gave his version of what had happened in the Colorado Mountains.

  “He’ll get some things moving, Sam,” said Bo after they hung up.

  “Maybe,” shrugged Sam. “I won’t entrust our safety or Becky’s to him. I’ll have to take care of that. Let’s pack
up, get some breakfast, and get off this mountain. There’s a lot to do.”

  They drove down to the Teddy Bear Restaurant on Pine Knot and Sam ordered eggs, country potatoes, and chicken-fried steak with country gravy. Bo had a plain omelet and an English muffin.

  Sam said, “You should eat more than that. You’ll need your energy.”

  Bo sipped her coffee. “I can’t imagine how you’re going to eat that conglomeration you have in front of you. That’ll give you energy for a week! Or clogged arteries!”

  “I know it’s more than I usually eat for breakfast, but I always order this when I’m here. It’s just too damn delicious!” He changed subjects. “I called my dad and briefed him. They will be flying in from Spain tomorrow. I need to figure out a way to keep Becky safe for the next few days.”

  Bo wrinkled her brow. “The Bureau may not solve this in the next few days.”

  He laughed. “You can bet on that. How much vacation time do you have left?”

  “I took all of next week. I thought we would be romping around the Colorado Mountains—getting to really know each other,” she replied.

  “Good. You can act as bodyguard for Becky. We need to decide on a place to stash you two until I can put an end to this.”

  “If I’m with Becky, what will you be doing?” she asked, alarm in her voice, her eyes wide.

  He answered, “I’m going into the streets, talk to people. If those Dynology assholes are still in Orange County, I’ll find them. That is, my snitches will. If they moved to a new building recently, it will be easier. Realtors will know which buildings have had activity.”

  Bo shrugged. “Sounds improbable. You’re just one man. The FBI will have an entire team looking for them.”

  Sam laughed. “Unless the FBI knows something I don’t know about, they’ll never find them before I do. This is my county. I’ll put the word out on the street. I’ll have hundreds of people looking for them. And I won’t need court orders and search warrants to look where I need to look.”

  Bo frowned. “Don’t you dare get yourself in trouble! And it sounds dangerous! I should be with you!”

  “You have to be with Becky. Besides, your badge will get in the way. No one will talk to me if you’re with me.”

  “Promise me that if you find them, you’ll tell me. Let the FBI handle it,” pleaded Bo.

  “I have to find them first,” he replied, not giving her an answer. “Where can we hide you and Becky for a few days? Somewhere that no one would ever guess? I’ve already called Pearl and told her to lock up the office and make herself scarce this week. She’s flying to San Francisco to visit a sister.”

  “You’re really serious about this, aren’t you?”

  “Very. If they’re looking for the tapes from those bugs, they might break into the office. I had Pearl call a roaming security firm and the Santa Ana police to keep an eye out for a break-in. I certainly don’t want them to get their hands on Pearl. It could get ugly.”

  Bo didn’t speak for a beat, then said, “If you’re determined to do it this way—and I’m still not sure I agree with you—then maybe I could take Becky to Durango for a few days.”

  Sam forked some scrambled eggs into his mouth and chewed as he pondered her suggestion.

  “They know about Durango. They’ll probably be watching there. I want you somewhere that I can get to in a hurry if you need me,” Sam finally replied.

  “Well, let’s finish breakfast and get on the road. We can kick it around on the way down the mountain.”

  Chapter 50

  Sunday, July 8, 2001

  Capistrano Beach, CA

  Sam drove the rented Tahoe through the Beach Road guard gate at 11:30 A.M. When he got to his parents’ beach house he drove slowly past it, giving it a quick onceover. He spotted nothing out of the ordinary. He drove on down the road for a few houses, then turned around and came back. He parked in front of the garages because his door opener was in his Camaro. He and Bo got out of the car and walked along the side of the house to the front door.

  Sam said, “This house has a very sophisticated alarm system, so I doubt if there are any bad guys inside. But let’s walk out on the deck and check the beach. Got your nine?”

  “Yes. You’re spooking me out,” replied Bo.

  “Better safe than sorry, as the old cliché goes. Follow me to the deck.”

  Sam walked down the flagstone walk, past the small garden, and down the path to the beach-side deck. No one on the deck, no one on the beach. Then they went back to the front door. Sam used his key, walked in and entered the appropriate code into the security keypad. Then he went quickly to the entry closet, opened the door, and entered another code into a second keypad. Bo was amazed.

  “Wow! Double security?” she exclaimed.

  “Yeah. If someone defeats the first one somehow, the second one gets them. However, to be sure, let’s clear the house.”

  He reached up on the closet shelf and retrieved a wooden box. A small key on his keyring opened it. He took out an object wrapped in an oily cloth. A 9mm Baretta.

  “House gun,” he explained.

  He shoved the ammo clip into the handle, pulled the slide.

  “Let’s do it.”

  She drew her nine.

  ***

  Twenty minutes later, house secured, they sat on the deck at an umbrella table sipping lemonade that Sam had found in the fridge.

  Bo said, “Maybe you’re being a little paranoid, Sam. No one has been here.”

  “They’re watching from somewhere. Or will be. Let’s stay alert. Mom and Dad and Becky are flying into John Wayne tomorrow at 3 P.M. We need a plan by then,” he said. “A ’Nam buddy of mine owns a motel in Oceanside. I can call him and see if he has a room for you and Becky. It’s not the Marriott, but it’s a block from the ocean and should be just fine for a few days. For now, I guess we can go turn in the rental Tahoe. My Camaro is locked up in the garage by the Mickey office—with my favorite gun in it. I took a cab to the airport. I didn’t want to leave the Camaro in airport parking. We can turn in the Tahoe in Santa Ana, then we’ll come back down here for cocktails and dinner.”

  ***

  When the two of them were comfortably strapped into the Camaro, Sam asked, “Did any of that useless surveillance performed by the FBI happen to get any pictures of the bad guys? D’Orr? Bryce? Chase?”

  Bo stuck out her tongue at him. “Yes. We’re not completely imcompetant!”

  “Can you get some copies? I would like my grapevine to know who they’re looking for,” he replied.

  “Swing by Fenster’s office. I can get them by using his computer—then make a bunch of copies.”

  ***

  The next stop—much to Bo’s surprise—was Sparky’s. It was 5 P.M. by then, so Sam ordered a draft beer and Bo a white wine. Sam waved at Boomer, who was at one of the pool tables, and motioned for him to come to the bar. He introduced him to Bo, then told Boomer and Sparky what he wanted. He gave both of them sets of pictures of the unholy three.

  “Make more copies if you need to, Boomer, but I want all your people looking for these assholes. Pass the word. If anyone finds them—or even one of them—call my cell. Don’t take any action. And be careful. They’re armed and dangerous. And more importantly, the FBI is looking, too, so keep an eye out for them. Don’t let them make you,” explained Sam.

  Boomer looked at Bo.

  “You said Bo was FBI, Sam. Are we at risk here?” asked Boomer.

  “No. Bo is on board with this, but the FBI will be doing it by the book—slowly. I want some results now! Comprende?” said Sam. “Bo will be guarding Becky while I make the rounds.”

  Sparky exploded. “Becky is a target?”

  “I think so,” answered Sam.

  Boomer said, “Bastards! We’ll find the assholes!”

  Bo interjected, “Remember. Don’t get in trouble. Let the FBI handle it. Just find them for us, if you can.”

  ***

  On the way to
the beach house on I-5, Bo asked, “Who was that Boomer guy? He looked like a criminal.”

  “He was—once.” Sam explained about Boomer’s biker club. “He can put 40 or 50 people on the street. He also knows the right places to look.”

  “You sure have an eclectic collection of friends,” she laughed.

  He intended to call Danny the drug kingpin tomorrow. He wouldn’t tell her about that.

  “Yes . . . I do.”

  They had a cozy dinner at The Quiet Cannon—overlooking Dana Point Harbor—then returned to the beach house. They cautiously checked it again. All clear.

  “This is really grating on my nerves,” said Bo as they went to the bar on the deck and Sam poured each of them a cognac.

  “Mine, too,” he agreed. “I wish they would make a move at me. Then I could shoot the assholes—get this over with.”

  His Smith .40 lay on the bar, cocked and ready.

  “I don’t really want you in a shoot out with them, Sam,” replied Bo. “Let’s just find them and let the odds be in our favor.”

  “You mean let the ‘big boys’ handle it?” he said.

  “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “I know. I just want it over with.” He put his arm around her and squeezed her breast. “Take me to bed and have your way with me. Take my mind off this shit.”

  ***

  The next morning over coffee, Bo called her boss and got an update on FBI activity. They had finally moved against Dynology in Irvine based on the fact that they had the Top Secret equations on Becky’s test, and the FBI crime tech people had traced the chopper in Colorado to Dynology. They were confiscating all computers, paper files, etc., in an effort to prove espionage. If evidence of other crimes showed up, so be it. They had not found D’Orr, Bryce, or Chase. All other employees had been arrested and were being questioned. Twenty agents were charged with finding the missing three. All known telephone and cell phone numbers had been tapped. Search warrants were also obtained for Dynology’s container ships and dock warehouses. They were being searched with drug-sniffing dogs, high-tech equipment, and Coast Guard teams.