Lawrence Sanders - Sullivan's sting

David gulped down half of the second brandy. It caught in his throat and for a moment he was afraid he might spew it up. He swallowed frantically again and again. Finally it went down, burning his stomach. Then:

"What did you tell them, Ernie?"

"Just that you were there at the same time as Termite Tommy. That the two of you had a drink together and talked awhile. That's all, Mr. Rathbone, I swear it. Oh, I also told them about those two bums who were having a beer at the other table while you and Termite Tommy were talking. Remember those guys? The cops want me to go through the mug books and see if I can make them. Maybe they're the skels who used the ice pick."

"Maybe," Rathbone said.

"Anyway, I wanted you to know what's going on. Ordinarily, I wouldn't gab about any of my customers- you know that-but my balls are in the wringer and I've got to make the best deal I can. You can appreciate that, can't you, Mr. Rathbone?"

"Sure, Ernie. It's okay. No great harm done."

"I'm glad to hear that. I just didn't want you to think I was a rat. I wish you the best of luck, Mr. Rathbone."

"Thanks, Ernie," David said. "The same to you."

He hung up and finished the second cognac. He took the empty glasses back to the kitchen and started to pour new drinks. He stopped suddenly, remembering. At least Ernie hadn't mentioned his passing a white envelope to Termite Tommy or how he, Rathbone, had gone into the men's room and had been joined there by one of the thugs.

Perhaps Ernie hadn't seen either incident. Or had witnessed them but just didn't recall. Or did recall them and hadn't told the cops. Or had told the cops and wasn't admitting how much he had blabbed.

But it really didn't matter, Rathbone concluded. The important fact was that he had been seen in the company of a homicide victim shortly before the murder. Sooner or later, he knew, the cops would come looking for him.

First Gevalt, then Birdie, and now this. . For one brief instant he thought it might be smart to run at once, that night. But he immediately recognized it as stupid panic. Even if the cops came around in the morning, he could stall them for a day or two. He could tell them he had met Termite Tommy quite by accident in the Palace Lounge on New Year's Day. They had been casual acquaintances. They had a drink together, wished each other Happy New Year, Tommy left, and that was that.

The cops might not buy the story, but it would take time and a lot more digging before they discovered Rathbone was holding out on them. And by the time they tied him to the Corcoran brothers-if they ever did-he'd be long gone.

His need to stall the fuzz, even for a short while, was obvious: He couldn't run until Bartlett's deposit on Friday was a done deal. Jimmy would take his forty percent, and David would pocket a cool $120,000. Screw Herman Weisrotte! If that drunken Kraut wanted to sue in Costa Rica for his fifteen-percent cut, lots of luck! But there was no way Rathbone was going to run before he made that marvelous score.

He carried the fresh drinks into the living room, feeling up again. Rita was coming down the stairs barefoot, wearing the yellow terry robe he had given her the first morning she awoke in his bed.

"You okay, honey?" she asked, looking at him closely. "You look like something the cat dragged in."

"I was a little shook," he admitted, "but I'm better now. That phone call-an old friend of mine up north just died."

"Ah, too bad. What did he die from?"

"Cancer," David said. "Sit down and drink your drink. There's a lot I want to talk to you about."

She curled up alongside him on the couch, and he put an arm about her shoulders.

"How soon can you be ready to leave?" he asked her. "I mean leave the country for good."

"I told you," she said. "Give me twenty minutes."

He laughed and hugged her. "You're a wonder, you are," he said. "It won't be until after this Friday. It all depends on when I can book a flight for us. But let's figure early next week-okay? Now listen carefully: I'm driving up to Lakeland tomorrow and may not be back until late in the evening. I'll leave you two grand in cash, and I want you to go out to Gevalt and pick up your passport. Got that?"

She nodded.

"Now on Friday afternoon, you and I are going shopping. I have charge accounts at Burdines, Jordan Marsh, Lord and Taylor, Macy's, Saks, and Neiman-Marcus. Make out a list of everything you want. We're going to charge up a storm at all those stores."

She turned her head to look at him. "And we'll be gone before the bills come in-right?"

"Right! So forget about the cost. Just buy everything you want."

"But what'll I need-fur coats or bikinis? Where are we going?"

"Costa Rica," he said. "A climate a lot like Florida's. Even better. I have a ranch down there you're going to love. It's out in the country, but not too far from the beach or the city. Plenty to do, plenty to see. And you already habla Spanish."

"Oh God," she said, "it sounds great. I'll bet they have wonderful plantains."

"And fantastic melons," he said. "The place is a paradise."

He picked up her drink and led her upstairs to the bedroom. She took off her robe, sat on the edge of the bed, watched him undress.

He knelt on the floor at her feet. He pressed her bare knees together and leaned his chin on them, his eyes turned upward to her face.

"I've got to tell you something, Rita. I've been a grifter all my life, and loving you is maybe the first straight thing I've ever done. It's a super feeling."

She clasped his face, lifted his head gently.

"Come to mommy," she said.

On Thursday morning, February 1, Anthony Harker listened to the previous day's tapes in his motel room. Then he packed all the reels in a battered briefcase and lugged it to the office. He finally decided Crockett had to know. He wasn't going to dump the problem in his lap, just present the evidence and tell Crockett what he planned to do. He owed the chief that much,

Crockett was already behind his desk, as trim as ever in his vested suit with a neatly knotted polka-dotted bow tie. He listened closely as Harker ran through the checklist on his clipboard.

"Roger Fortescue will drive up to Lakeland tomorrow morning in time to be there by noon. He'll arrest Herman Weisrotte. Two Secret Service men will provide backup.

"Henry Ullman will collar Bartlett at the Crescent Bank in Boca at noon. He'll be assisted by FBI special agents.

"Manuel Suarez will take Sidney Coe. Manny will lead a squad from the Fort Lauderdale police. In addition to Coe, all the yaks will be booked.

"I figured Simon Clark would bust Mortimer Sparco's brokerage, but Clark asked if he could pick up Irving Donald Gevalt instead. That's okay with me, so I arranged for an SEC team to hit the brokerage. They know what to look for.

"The DEA will coordinate their raid on Frank Little's warehouse. At the same time they arrest Little, they'll grab all his customers they've been able to identify.

"I'll lead a team from the Broward County Sheriff's Office against David Rathbone's town house. The warrants authorize his arrest and seizing whatever records we can find in his private office.

"Ernest Hohlman, the bartender at the Palace Lounge, picked out two ex-cons from the mug books who might be involved in the murder of Termite Tommy. They're Brian and Thomas Corcoran, brothers, with rap sheets as long as your arm. Heavy stuff like armed robbery and felonious assault. There's a warrant out for both of them right now.

"I should warn you, sir, that some if not all of the assisting agencies are sure to rush to the newspapers and TV cameras as soon as the operation goes down."

"That's all right," Crockett said. "There'll be enough glory to go around, and we don't want any for this organization. We may need the cooperation of those people in the future, so let them get their headlines. Have you been able to keep a lid on all this?"