Road Rules Online

As soon as Kennedy and Estevez walked in the door, Luis met them with “I will not say anything without my attorney present.”

Kennedy put her hand up.  “Save it, Mr. Contreras.  We know you worked for the Escobars ten years ago.  What you’ve done in the last ten years is a mystery, and we really don’t care at this point.”

“Be that as it may, Agent, I will not say anything without my attorney present.”

Kennedy pulled out a chair, sat down, and crossed her legs slowly.  “Would you happen to know anything about two people trying to give the Chest to a local television station?”

Luis’s eyes widened.

Estevez grinned.  “Want to wait for your attorney?  Where is he, anyway?”

“Lieutenant, Agent Kennedy, I will tell you all if you take me to where the Chest is being transferred.  When that happens, I will be able to reveal what I know.”

“But we’ll have the Chest by then.”

“Will you have Julian Franco?”

Kennedy looked over her shoulder at Estevez.  “We bring Mason, too.”

Miguel went to Christie’s and asked for a smoking booth while he sorted things out.  He drank coffee, but did not order anything.  His lunch consisted of Folger’s and Winston cigarettes.

As he let his third cigarette burn down to the filter, he looked up at the television.

“WSVN has received word that Myron Blake wants to transfer the Chest back to Church custody, but does not trust the police.  Blake told WSVN news he is concerned the police will not believe he did not steal the Chest of St. Jakob.  Once again, WSVN has learned the lead suspect in the theft of the holy relic stolen from a Cleveland church on Friday is here in Savannah and wants to hand the Chest of St. Jakob to Bishop Hewson personally.  WSVN will keep you up to date on this breaking story.”

Translation:  Whatever happened would happen live on WSVN.  Smart boy, this Blake.  Also foolish.  Which told Miguel he wasn’t in this mess voluntarily.  If he’d been part of the heist, he’d have been in Miami already.

Of course, he could be wrong.  Miguel always assumed he could be wrong about such things.  It was why he had survived for so long.

He flagged his waitress over.  “I think I will have a slice of cheesecake after all.”  He winked at her.  “I’m new in town.  Do you know how I might get to the WSVN studios?”

“I will not say anything without my attorney present,” said Luis.

The detective hovering over him looked like an older Jude Law.  “All we want to know is why you picked that particular time to be in the Cathedral parking lot.”  The voice didn’t match Law’s, but this guy probably came from Savannah or Atlanta.  He certainly wasn’t one of the mountain hicks people usually associated with this state.

“I will not say anything without my attorney present,” said Luis.

“Your fingerprints are on the Nissan,” said Jude Law.  “You stole it, didn’t you?”

“I will not say anything without my attorney present.”

“Of course not.  The car’s not been reported stolen yet, so why cop to it.  That’s okay.  We’ll call the owner soon enough.  Where’d you get it?  The airport?  One of the malls?  Maybe you went out to Richmond Hill.”

“I will not say anything without my attorney present.”

“What happened to your friend?  The sheriff says he called himself ‘Mr. Fernandez.’  Is he your attorney?”

“I will not say anything without my attorney present.”

“All right, where’s your attorney?”

Luis cracked a smile.  “Ask the bishop.”

“Now that you have that Luis guy,” said Mason, “I can tell my story.”

“Oh, good,” said Kennedy.  “Maybe this time, you’ll tell the truth.”

“I found out Yarazelski had the Chest, even if he didn’t know it.  I had no idea Blake was with him.  I went after him, caught up with them in Virginia as they were changing a tire, and took their car.”

“This would be the missing Cadillac,” said Estevez.  “What happened to it?”

“Luis and another one named Miguel.  They hijacked me around Statesville, North Carolina.”  He looked from Estevez to Kennedy to Jordan and back to Estevez again.  “You’ve got to believe me.  They’re nuts.  They pulled me over in a Crown Vic decked out to look like a police car.  When they took the Caddie, they set the Ford on fire.”

“They did find a burned-out Ford on I-77 yesterday,” said Kennedy.  “Stolen.  North Carolina troopers think it was to destroy evidence and create a diversion.”

“See?”

“What I see is you keep changing your story every time you need to fit new facts into it,” said Kennedy.  “You’re wasting my time and everyone else’s.”  She stood up and waved a deputy inside.  “Cuff him.”

The deputy hauled Mason to his feet.

“Timothy Mason,” said Kennedy, “you are under arrest for racketeering, obstruction of justice, and lying to federal law enforcement.  You have the right to remain silent…”

Chapter 29

The first thing that occurred to Stan as he surfaced was, “Why am I still alive?”

The second that occurred to him was…

“Aaaaah!”
Pain burned his entire left side.  The cut along the side of his face burned.  Stan wondered how, exactly, he’d managed to open the Escalade’s door.  “Oh, Christ!”

A pleasure boat, probably a thirty-footer as far as Stan could tell, slowed to a stop next to him.  A black man in a white polo shirt with a beer in his hand leaned over the side.

“Hey, buddy,” he said, “you all right?”

“I will be once I’m out of this river,” said Stan.

Two more people appeared, a man and a woman.   They threw a life preserver over the side, which Stan latched onto with his good arm. His left shoulder screamed in agony.  As they lifted him into the boat, he realized he might have dislocated it in the crash.

Up on the bridge, police cars and ambulances converged.

Once on the boat, the woman gave Stan a wet towel to press against the side of his face.

The black man whistled.  “Busy morning.  First they raid St. John’s, then someone shoots a cop out on 17, now this.”  He looked Stan over.  “You were in that car, weren’t you?”

“Yeah.”  Stan had been leaning against the pilot house with his eyes closed, shivering.  When he opened his eyes, he saw a police boat making its way upriver toward the bridge.  “I think those men in that boat over there are looking for me.”

As soon as Kennedy and Estevez walked in the door, Luis met them with “I will not say anything without my attorney present.”

Kennedy put her hand up.  “Save it, Mr. Contreras.  We know you worked for the Escobars ten years ago.  What you’ve done in the last ten years is a mystery, and we really don’t care at this point.”

“Be that as it may, Agent, I will not say anything without my attorney present.”

Kennedy pulled out a chair, sat down, and crossed her legs slowly.  “Would you happen to know anything about two people trying to give the Chest to a local television station?”

Luis’s eyes widened.

Estevez grinned.  “Want to wait for your attorney?  Where is he, anyway?”

“Lieutenant, Agent Kennedy, I will tell you all if you take me to where the Chest is being transferred.  When that happens, I will be able to reveal what I know.”

“But we’ll have the Chest by then.”

“Will you have Julian Franco?”

Kennedy looked over her shoulder at Estevez.  “We bring Mason, too.”

Miguel went to Christie’s and asked for a smoking booth while he sorted things out.  He drank coffee, but did not order anything.  His lunch consisted of Folger’s and Winston cigarettes.

As he let his third cigarette burn down to the filter, he looked up at the television.

“WSVN has received word that Myron Blake wants to transfer the Chest back to Church custody, but does not trust the police.  Blake told WSVN news he is concerned the police will not believe he did not steal the Chest of St. Jakob.  Once again, WSVN has learned the lead suspect in the theft of the holy relic stolen from a Cleveland church on Friday is here in Savannah and wants to hand the Chest of St. Jakob to Bishop Hewson personally.  WSVN will keep you up to date on this breaking story.”

Translation:  Whatever happened would happen live on WSVN.  Smart boy, this Blake.  Also foolish.  Which told Miguel he wasn’t in this mess voluntarily.  If he’d been part of the heist, he’d have been in Miami already.

Of course, he could be wrong.  Miguel always assumed he could be wrong about such things.  It was why he had survived for so long.

He flagged his waitress over.  “I think I will have a slice of cheesecake after all.”  He winked at her.  “I’m new in town.  Do you know how I might get to the WSVN studios?”

“I will not say anything without my attorney present,” said Luis.

The detective hovering over him looked like an older Jude Law.  “All we want to know is why you picked that particular time to be in the Cathedral parking lot.”  The voice didn’t match Law’s, but this guy probably came from Savannah or Atlanta.  He certainly wasn’t one of the mountain hicks people usually associated with this state.

“I will not say anything without my attorney present,” said Luis.

“Your fingerprints are on the Nissan,” said Jude Law.  “You stole it, didn’t you?”

“I will not say anything without my attorney present.”

“Of course not.  The car’s not been reported stolen yet, so why cop to it.  That’s okay.  We’ll call the owner soon enough.  Where’d you get it?  The airport?  One of the malls?  Maybe you went out to Richmond Hill.”

“I will not say anything without my attorney present.”

“What happened to your friend?  The sheriff says he called himself ‘Mr. Fernandez.’  Is he your attorney?”

“I will not say anything without my attorney present.”

“All right, where’s your attorney?”

Luis cracked a smile.  “Ask the bishop.”

“Now that you have that Luis guy,” said Mason, “I can tell my story.”

“Oh, good,” said Kennedy.  “Maybe this time, you’ll tell the truth.”

“I found out Yarazelski had the Chest, even if he didn’t know it.  I had no idea Blake was with him.  I went after him, caught up with them in Virginia as they were changing a tire, and took their car.”

“This would be the missing Cadillac,” said Estevez.  “What happened to it?”

“Luis and another one named Miguel.  They hijacked me around Statesville, North Carolina.”  He looked from Estevez to Kennedy to Jordan and back to Estevez again.  “You’ve got to believe me.  They’re nuts.  They pulled me over in a Crown Vic decked out to look like a police car.  When they took the Caddie, they set the Ford on fire.”

“They did find a burned-out Ford on I-77 yesterday,” said Kennedy.  “Stolen.  North Carolina troopers think it was to destroy evidence and create a diversion.”

“See?”

“What I see is you keep changing your story every time you need to fit new facts into it,” said Kennedy.  “You’re wasting my time and everyone else’s.”  She stood up and waved a deputy inside.  “Cuff him.”

The deputy hauled Mason to his feet.

“Timothy Mason,” said Kennedy, “you are under arrest for racketeering, obstruction of justice, and lying to federal law enforcement.  You have the right to remain silent…”

Chapter 29

The first thing that occurred to Stan as he surfaced was, “Why am I still alive?”

The second that occurred to him was…

“Aaaaah!”
Pain burned his entire left side.  The cut along the side of his face burned.  Stan wondered how, exactly, he’d managed to open the Escalade’s door.  “Oh, Christ!”

A pleasure boat, probably a thirty-footer as far as Stan could tell, slowed to a stop next to him.  A black man in a white polo shirt with a beer in his hand leaned over the side.

“Hey, buddy,” he said, “you all right?”

“I will be once I’m out of this river,” said Stan.

Two more people appeared, a man and a woman.   They threw a life preserver over the side, which Stan latched onto with his good arm. His left shoulder screamed in agony.  As they lifted him into the boat, he realized he might have dislocated it in the crash.

Up on the bridge, police cars and ambulances converged.

Once on the boat, the woman gave Stan a wet towel to press against the side of his face.

The black man whistled.  “Busy morning.  First they raid St. John’s, then someone shoots a cop out on 17, now this.”  He looked Stan over.  “You were in that car, weren’t you?”

“Yeah.”  Stan had been leaning against the pilot house with his eyes closed, shivering.  When he opened his eyes, he saw a police boat making its way upriver toward the bridge.  “I think those men in that boat over there are looking for me.”