Michael McGarrity - Under the color of law

"How did it play out?" Kerney asked.

"Hamilton arranged important meetings between Trade Source corporate officers and ranking financial leaders and money managers in Peru, Venezuela, and Ecuador. Ultimately, Trade Source signed contracts to supply hardware and software products, plus provide technical assistance and training."

"Was Trade Source acting as an agent for a U. S. Government foreign aid package?"

Kerney asked.

"You could look at it that way," Straley replied, "but it wouldn't be accurate.

Using privatization strategies to achieve government goals has become commonplace on the federal level."

"Why did Trade Source buy APT Performa?" Kerney asked.

"As I understand it, that was done based on Hamilton's recommendation.

I was off the board by then, but I heard that APT Per forma had exactly what was needed to begin putting the necessary systems together."

"Do you know Clarence Thayer?" Kerney asked.

"Only by reputation. I understand he runs a tight ship and knows his business."

"What about SWAMI?" Kerney asked.

"That's another issue entirely. As I understand it, Thayer sold the company but kept the rights of certain proprietary inventions. SWAMI was one of those. It was at an early stage of development at the time and not much was made of it.

From what I've read recently it's about to make Thayer and his outside investors very rich men."

"Do you know anything about Terrell's personal finances?" Sara asked.

"Hamilton lives comfortably," Straley said.

"He's not rich by any means, although I know he'd like to be."

"What if he's found a way to become rich?"

Straley gave Sara a studied look.

"Are you suggesting Hamilton may have held back what he knew about SWAMI from the board for a piece of the action from APT Performa?"

"Why not?" Sara replied.

"A technological breakthrough like SWAMI is almost priceless. Granted, Terrell would have eventually made some profits through the stock he held as a board member if Trade Source had secured the rights to SWAMI."

"But what if he cut a sweetheart deal with Thayer to keep SWAMI off the negotiating table for a bigger piece of the pie?"

Straley cocked his head.

"Hamilton has always wanted to be a major money player."

"Think about it," Sara said.

"Terrell brought the APT Performa proposal to the Trade Source board, made the arrangements to bring various federal agencies to the table, and coordinated meetings with South American financial representatives.

Did he do it solely for patriotic reasons?"

"I doubt it," Straley said, holding up a hand to stop further questions.

"But what does any of this have to do with your contention that Scott Gatlin may not have murdered my daughter?"

"We think your daughter was killed because of what she knew," Kerney said, "not because of who she slept with. We believe she learned secrets about her husband's activities that may be directly related to Trade Source, APT Performa, and the SWAMI project."

"What do you think she knew?" Straley asked.

"First, let me give you some facts," Kerney said. He highlighted the major points, concentrating on the FBI cover-up of Phyllis Terrell's murder, her connection to. Father Mitchell, the priest's probe into intelligence operations in South America, and Hamilton Terrell's involvement in the coverup.

"These facts are fully documented?" Straley asked when Kerney stopped talking.

"They are."

"So, what did my daughter learn that got her killed?"

"That, we don't know," Kerney said.

"But, one way or another it directly relates to your son-in-law."

"If it's a government secret, you're never going to know," Straley said.

"Are you willing to share your documentation with me?"

"This isn't a news story, Mr. Straley," Sara said.

Straley looked at Sara straight on.

"I know how the government can manipulate the media under the guise of national security to suit its own purposes, young lady. I have no intention of falling into that trap. But I want to look at your facts for myself before I decide what to do."

"What can you do?" Kerney asked.

"If Terrell played an active role in causing my daughter's death, as you've suggested, I will find a way to poison his reputation. Sometimes innuendo can ruin a career just as quickly as a front-page scandal headline."

"Perhaps something will show up in your mailbox from an anonymous source," Kerney said as he stood up.

"I'll keep my eye out for it, Chief Kerney." *** Until Kerney and Sara Brannon left Santa Fe, Applewhite had worried about finding the right killing field. Since the hit had to be staged, icing Kerney at home wouldn't do. No matter how well orchestrated, neighbors might see things, remember little details, especially on a weekend, when people were at home.

Applewhite went high-speed mobile down the Interstate in Charlie Perry's car, putting the details into play on the radio. She had Charlie airborne. The pilot had instructions to maintain a holding pattern once he was in range. The men tailing Kerney were in Ramah, ten kilometers away from Proctor Straley's ranch, ready to follow Kerney as soon as he moved. She punched up images on her onboard laptop that gave her satellite visuals of the terrain, roads, vehicles, and structures along Kerney's route.

The area was bracketed by National Forest, Indian land, and the malpais, and had few permanent residents. A winter storm in the mountains had brought local traffic to a standstill.

Storm clouds masked a portion of the satellite visuals. Apple white switched to a Global Positioning System that highlighted topography of the area. Defined by a prominent ridgeline, the uplift ran for a good sixty miles. A state road cut through it at the Continental Divide, dropped out of the mountains, and ran straight west for about fifteen miles through canyons, mesas, and frontage pasture land. The stretch of road would do nicely for a killing field.

Charlie's luggage was in the trunk, along with a wad of greenbacks and a bank confirmation of a six-figure deposit in an offshore account. The money could easily be traced back to Enrique De Leon The fast-moving storm slammed into her east of Grants. She fought her way through it, breaking into sunshine and a slushy pavement. The chopper pilot radioed a diversion around the storm. She caught the turnoff to Ramah through the badlands just as the helicopter reported a twenty-minute ETA.

Past the village of San Rafael the highway was snow packed with no traffic. As she entered the Zuni Mountains the road turned to snow-covered ice.

The chopper came into view out of the southwest. Applewhite asked for an LZ location. The pilot radioed he could off load at a clearing near the road to Paxton Springs.

"Give me a visual on traffic," Applewhite said.

"There's one four-by-four behind you, eight clicks back," the pilot replied.

"Nothing's coming at you for a good twelve clicks, and it's slow moving all the way. The LZ is behind tree cover and out of sight from the highway."

"Copy that," Applewhite said.

She plowed off the pavement at the Paxton Springs turnoff through eight inches of snow, and bumped her way to the waiting chopper. The wash of the slow-moving propeller blades dusted snow off the tall pine trees, creating eddies that puffed and then disappeared in the wind.

Applewhite gave the pilot orders while two men in fatigues loaded a drugged, rubbery Charlie Perry into the backseat of the car.

The pilot nodded, put a hand to his headset, and said, "The target is moving."

"Let's do it," Applewhite replied.

Bobby Sloan lost sight of Applewhite on the curves through the mountains. When she'd switched to Perry's car in the APT Performa parking lot, he'd been forced to maintain visual contact. He put the Bronco into low four-wheel drive and pushed it to the max to make up ground. Wheels spun snow and tires whined as he hit ice. He pointed the Bronco down the middle of the road, fishtailing through curves, downshifting on short straightaways, until he made it through the pass and had a clean line of sight down the empty road. Nothing.