Michael McGarity - Serpent Gate

"What do you suggest?"

"Perhaps a trip abroad is in order, until matters settle.

I would not wait long to decide, Enrique. The American ambassador plans to discuss your diplomatic status at the highest level of our government before day's end."

"Thank you, Antonio. You have been most kind to bring these matters to my attention. Do one small favor for me. Find out the identities of the persons overseeing the state police investigation. Perhaps they would not be unresponsive to an offer to become rich men, if an arrangement can be made."

"I'll get back to you," Antonio said.

Vallaverde departed and De Leon went to the library.

Antonio's report was troubling. The loss of the Tortuga assets would sting, but hardly ruin him. He doubted the complexities of the company could be easily unraveled by the police in a short period of time. If he moved quickly, millions of dollars could be saved.

He rang for Carlos, who answered promptly.

"I want arrangements made to have Bucky Watson killed immediately,"

Enrique said.

"He is in the Santa Fe County jail. I do not want him to live to see another day.

Report to me when your plans are complete."

"Si, patron."

De Leon disconnected and dialed a different number.

Several hours passed before he put the telephone in the cradle. The time had been well spent; Tortuga's remaining cash assets had been transferred out of the United States through a series of complex banking transactions.

The phone rang almost immediately. He punched the speaker button.

"What is it?"

"It is Antonio, Enrique. The man responsible for the police investigation in Santa Fe is Kevin Kerney, the deputy state police chief. Several related arrests have been made by his investigators; a nephew of the governor and a prominent attorney have been charged with money laundering."

"Continue."

"One of his detectives was killed in a shoot-out at a Santa Fe residence. I do not think Kerney can be bought."

"Do you have a dossier on Kerney and his investigations?"

"A slim one, yes."

"Please send it by courier to the hadenda."

"I will do so immediately," Antonio replied.

"Thank you, Antonio."

"Bur, patron, he could not have survived so many bullets."

De Leon patted the file folder on the top of his desk.

"You killed a state police sergeant named Martinez."

"But it was Kerney's car." Carlos caught himself.

There was no point making excuses. He lowered his head submissively.

"I am sorry, Don Enrique. What are your orders?"

"Delfino and Felix will meet you at the airport in an hour. You will assist them in locating Kerney. Both he and Watson must be killed.

What progress have you made on Watson?"

"He is in a seclusion cell at the jail. A court hearing has been scheduled for late this afternoon."

"Will he be heavily guarded during the court hearing?"

"Only one officer has been assigned to transport him."

"Excellent."

"What other orders do you have for me, patron?" De Leon held out the file.

"None. Felix and Delfino will instruct you in all matters. Do not keep them waiting."

Carlos took the file, risked a glance at the icy stare in De Leon eyes, lowered his gaze, and quickly left the room, wondering if there was any way the patron would let him live. officer Yvonne Rasmussen gave Kerney a pleased smile when he came into her hospital room.

"I'm sorry it took so long for me to come and see you," Kerney said as he shook the young woman's hand.

"I hear you're healing up nicely."

"I get to go home tomorrow," Rasmussen replied.

"The doctor said I start light duty in a week."

"That's good news. You kept an old friend of mine from getting killed.

I want to thank you for that."

Rasmussen's gray eyes clouded over.

"I didn't do enough. Chief. If I had responded sooner, Sergeant Martinez might still be alive."

"Don't beat up on yourself. You did all that you could."

"That's not the way I feel," Rasmussen said.

"Would you like to talk about it?"

Rasmussen hesitated and shook her head slowly.

"Not yet."

"I need to ask you a few questions. When you were patrolling Fletcher's house, before the gunfight, did you notice anything unusual?"

"Nothing."

"Did you run license plate checks on the vehicles parked in the immediate area?"

"Yes. All but one of the cars were registered to neighborhood residents. The one that wasn't belonged to an elderly Hispanic-surnamed male with a south-side address. I ran him through NCIC and there were no wants or warrants. It didn't seem suspicious."

"Where did you see the car?"

"On the street behind the lane to Fletcher's house."

"When?"

"Around dusk."

"Was anyone in it or nearby?"

"No."

"Did you see the vehicle again?"

"No. When I got the 911 call, I came in from a different direction."

"Did you log the information on the car?"

"Dispatch has the record. Do you think the car was used by the killers?"

"It's possible. I'll check it out. Take care of yourself."

"Chief Kerney."

Kerney stopped at the door.

"What is it?"

Rasmussen flashed him a small smile.

"Thanks for not treating me like a kid sister. Everybody else has. I really appreciate it."

"You don't strike me as an officer who needs to be coddled," Kerney replied.

"I'm not." with particulars in hand on the car Rasmussen had spotted near Fletcher's house, Kerney drove down Airport Road. Ruben Contreras, age sixty-eight, owned an older-model full-size Buick, and lived in a trailer park behind a strip mall and a car wash. Most of the trailers were shabby-looking. Gravel lanes bisected the rows of trailers, and in the center of the park stood a cement block building that housed a coin-operated laundry. A loose dog sniffed around an overflowing trash can at the front of the laundry.

Kerney found Contreras's trailer. Contreras answered the knock at the door and squinted at Kerney through thick glasses. A tube ran from his nose to a portable oxygen tank on wheels. The smell of beans cooking filled the air.

"Mr. Contreras?" Kerney asked with his badge case open.

"Yes?" Contreras wheezed as he spoke.

"Do you own a Buick?" Kerney described the car.

"I sold it. The doctors say I can't drive anymore. My granddaughter gives me rides. I don't like not having my car."

Kerney held up Carlos Ruiz's mug shot.

"Did this man buy it from you?"

Contreras nodded.

"He paid me cash. He said he would change the registration." A worried look spread across the old man's face.

"If he had an accident, it's not my fault. I cancelled my insurance."

"There's been no accident, Mr. Contreras," Kerney said.

"I just needed to identify the buyer."

"That's him."

"You're sure?"

Contreras nodded once more. Kerney left while the old man stood waiting for another question. jbsus wanted Robert to leave Nita's house. With his cracked rib and broken arm in a cast, Robert couldn't get both thumbs in his ears to fight off the voice inside his head.

He'd been awake all night in the guest bedroom with the door locked and the window open, smoking cigarettes.

Robert had tried to obey Nita's ban on smoking in the house, but he couldn't do it. He took a deep drag on the cigarette and an ash fell on the new shirt Nita had given him. She had bought him a whole new set of clothes, including a winter coat. The smell of something burning made Robert look down at his chest; he spit on his finger and rubbed it on the burn hole in the shirt to make sure it was out.

Robert's legs felt nervous and itchy. Walking back and forth all night in the bedroom didn't make the feeling go away. He had stopped pacing when Nita came to the door and asked if he was awake. He didn't answer and soon heard the sound of her truck leaving the driveway.