Birds of a Feather. Don Easton

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СКАЧАТЬ anything and then bring him in and really question him. If he doesn’t lawyer up, I bet I could get him to crack within an hour.”

      “How did you leave it with him?”

      “I remained noncommittal because I wanted to talk to you first. I didn’t want to freak him out any worse than he is and get him to thinking he should call a lawyer. I gave him my card and told him to give me a call if he heard from her or remembered something.”

      “I doubt you’ll get much in the way of phone records. If he and his buddy Clive Slater are dealing coke, they’ll be changing cellphones faster than you change your panties. I think you —”

      Jack stopped talking as Damien exited the courtroom and walked over to them.

      “Good day, Corporal Taggart,” said Damien with a smile. “Hope you have a pleasant afternoon. I know I will,” he added, before walking away.

      “What was that all about?” asked Connie.

      “He was letting me know the judge didn’t accept my evidence.”

      “What? You’re kidding! Everyone knows Satans Wrath’s history of murder and dope dealing. How could a judge even consider the idea that they’re not in it as a criminal venture?”

      Jack shrugged and said, “Your guess is probably about as good as mine. Maybe the new law wasn’t worded to the judge’s liking. Or it could be one of a number of other things. The judge could be scared, obtuse, bought off, or has a utopian belief that any potential violation of civil rights outweighs the need to protect society as a whole. Take your pick.”

      “You don’t seem all that upset,” noted Connie.

      Jack shrugged and said, “I’ve lost all faith in the justice system. Nothing surprises me anymore.”

      Connie studied Jack for a moment. Of course you don’t believe in the justice system. Explains why you completely ignore it a lot of the time. You prefer to send people directly to the morgue …

      “Now, back to Porter,” continued Jack. “Do your thing first. Get your ducks in a row and bring him in for proper questioning.”

      “Sounds good. Hopefully he doesn’t lawyer up.”

      Jack’s face remained impassive, hiding what he was thinking. For his sake, he better hope he talks to you. Otherwise I’ll get him to talk my way …

      chapter seven

      In El Paso, the sun had barely cracked the eastern horizon Monday morning when Adams went to the hospital. Becky was at her husband’s bedside when he arrived, but when she saw Adams, she quickly got up and met him at the door.

      “Becky, I’m so sorry,” said Adams. “How’s he doing?”

      “Awful, but he wants to talk to you. He spent most of yesterday under sedation, but when he was awake, he kept asking for you.”

      “The doctors said to let him get some rest and give him time to settle down before debriefing him.”

      “I know.”

      “I don’t know what to say. I’m just glad we got him back.”

      “What is there to say?” she replied bitterly. “Except that it’s over. We’re done with this shit,” she added defiantly. “I can’t take it anymore. As soon as he’s out of here he’s putting in his papers to resign … and don’t you try to talk him out of it,” she added, vehemently.

      “I won’t,” replied Adams softly. “I don’t blame him. I expected he would quit. Anybody would.”

      Becky studied his face, wondering if he was telling the truth and said, “I’ll wait out here, but keep it short. He can barely hold it together enough to say more than a sentence or two without breaking down.”

      Adams nodded and walked into the room. Patton propped himself up on the bed. His eyes were watery and one was bruised and swollen, leaving only a slit to peer out of.

      “How ya doin’, partner?” asked Adams. “Hanging in there? I’d have brought you a bottle of Jack Daniel’s, but the stores aren’t open yet. Figured it would be better than whatever prescription shit they’re feedin’ ya in here.”

      “I’m not good, John,” admitted Patton. “I’m … I’m finished. I’m quitting. It’s my idea as much as Becky’s.”

      “I know, she told me,” replied Adams, sitting down. “Don’t blame you a bit. Yesterday Yolanda and I talked about it, too … and we don’t have any kids.”

      Talk between Adams and Yolanda of quitting was a lie, but it was a lie Adams felt his partner needed to hear. The truth was that Adams was too enraged to quit. He wanted to get even. He wanted justice.

      “There’s something else. I, I really screwed up,” Patton said, covering his face with his hands to try and stifle a sob.

      “You didn’t screw up. We’re always working alone over there. They set you up and wanted you to follow the Mercedes. It was a proper ambush. It could have happened to me as easily as it did to you.”

      “It’s not that,” cried Patton. “I really screwed up. I told them.”

      “Told them what? What are you talking about?”

      “They wanted the names of everyone I worked with. I told them. I didn’t want to, but I did.”

      “Fuck ’em. Let them come after us. I hope they do.”

      “No … it’s not that. They wanted home addresses. The names of our wives and kids. Some of it I tried to make up. Giving fake names, but I had lost it. There was a lot of yelling and screaming. I was scared. I might have given them some real names, too. Or maybe I only think I did.… Every time I go to sleep it’s like I’m there again. I can’t tell my nightmares apart from what I really did say.”

      “Hell, I bet hardly any of them spoke English. They won’t remember or know what —”

      “No, the captain spoke good English. He was writing down what I was saying in a notebook. Then he would smile at me as he flipped the pages back and ask some of the same questions over again. They caught me lying a couple of times.”

      “Those fucking bastards,” fumed Adams.

      “I tried to invent new names, but now I’m not sure what I told them. I know I gave them some of the guys’ real names because I figured they probably knew the names of guys who had been here for years. I even gave them yours. Not your real address, but your name. I’m sorry.”

      “Don’t be sorry. We’re flesh and blood. There is only so much any of us can take.”

      “But our families, John. My God, our families …”

      “You were gutsy to be throwing out whatever phony names you did. I can only imagine what the pain would have been like. Most men would have spilled their guts immediately. Did they ask about our office? Do they know where it is?”

      “No, СКАЧАТЬ