Stuart Woods: Santa Fe Edge

“Of course, Mrs. Keeler. And I have some good news for you: Your husband’s estate has transferred eight hundred million dollars to your account here, and there is more to come, I am assured.”

“Wonderful news,” Barbara said. She thanked him and instructed him to initiate the procedures they had discussed at lunch. She hung up and called the FBO in San Jose and ordered the airplane to be prepared for an immediate departure to Nassau, then made another call.

“Bentley Motors,” the operator said.

“Charles Grosvenor, please,” Barbara said.

“Please hold.”

“This is Charles Grosvenor.”

“Charles, it’s Ellie Keeler.”

“How nice to hear your voice.”

“I have an invitation for you,” she said. “You’ve said that you enjoy travel.”

“Yes, indeed, Ellie.”

“Do you have your passport handy?”

“Yes. It’s in my briefcase.”

“Here’s what I’d like you to do. I’d like you to go directly to the San Jose Airport and meet me there.” She gave him directions to the FBO. “We will be departing immediately for the Bahamas.”

“I’ll have to get time off,” Grosvenor said.

“Please don’t worry about that. Just walk away now. I’ll explain later.”

“But my job.”

“Don’t worry about it, and don’t worry about clothes. We’ll get you a new wardrobe in Nassau.”

“Whatever you say, my dear,” he replied. “I’ll look forward to seeing you in an hour.”

“I’ll look forward to it as well,” she said, then ran to pack a small bag.

AS WILLARD DROVE HER away in the Bentley, a government car drove up to Barbara’s apartment building, and two FBI agents got out and went inside. They were told by the maid, as per Barbara’s instructions, that she had flown to Rome earlier in the day.

Lieutenant David Santiago was shown into the office of the chief deputy district attorney and asked to sit down and be quick with his report.

Santiago handed the man his completed request for an arrest warrant for Eleanor Keeler. The deputy D.A., whose name was Warren, opened a copy of The Wall Street Journal and handed it to Santiago. “Does your request for a warrant refer to this Mrs. Eleanor Keeler?”

Santiago read the article quickly. “I believe so,” he said.

“Play me the tape recording,” Warren said, placing his feet on his desk and leaning back in his chair.

Santiago played the recording.

Warren smiled. “I compliment you on the thoroughness of your questioning and the quality of your recording,” he said. “I did not see any reference to the discovery of the murder weapon or any physical evidence connecting Mrs. Keeler to the murder of Mr. Cross,” he said. “Did I miss something?”

“No, sir. I believe Mrs. Keeler may still be in possession of the weapon, though, and a search warrant might bring it into our possession.”

“Lieutenant, are you aware that the Feds have procured an extradition warrant for Mrs. Keeler, and that as soon as she is arrested, she will be returned to prison in Mexico?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, rather than involve this office in what would be an incredibly long and hideously expensive trial against the kind of defense team that only large sums of money can provide, and without the weapon or any physical evidence, I think it is in our best interests to let the Feds return Mrs. Keeler to Mexico to serve out her sentence. Perhaps during her twenty years to life there you will develop other, stronger evidence that can be used to prosecute her here when she gets out, should either of us still be alive when that occurs.”

“Yes, sir,” Santiago replied, getting to his feet.

Warren stood and shook his hand. “Good day.”

ON HIS ARRIVAL in Mexico, Raoul Estevez checked into his hotel, dined in his suite with the beautiful young woman associate he had brought with him, screwed her thoroughly and got a good night’s sleep.

The following morning, having phoned the previous day for an appointment, he breakfasted with the deputy minister of justice, a civil servant who had run his ministry with an iron hand through many governments over many years, and who was routinely deferred to by the political appointees above him, who were happy to deal with the trappings of office instead of the responsibilities. Their conversation took place in the garden of the deputy’s home in a Mexico City suburb and was conducted in elegant and nuanced Spanish.

“Raoul, it is good to see you,” the deputy said, embracing the lawyer warmly.

“Benicio, it has been too long.”

A large breakfast was brought by servants while the two men chatted amiably about fast horses and brave bulls. When the garden had been cleared of servants the deputy sat back, folded his hands and simply nodded.

“Benicio,” Estevez said, “I wish to bring to your attention a very serious matter which could cause a great deal of trouble both domestically and internationally for your ministry.”

The deputy made a concerned face and nodded again.

“More than three years ago two American women made the acquaintance of a young man who subsequently beat and raped both of them. One of them got her hands on a knife and killed him, then removed the penis from the corpse.”

“Ahhhh,” the deputy said, nodding.

“I knew you would know of this, Benicio. The woman who wielded the knife is now dead, but her sister, in the midst of an angry divorce, was kidnapped by operatives of her husband and taken aboard a yacht into Mexican waters, where it was met by a police boat. After a brief and highly prejudicial trial the woman was convicted and sentenced to a prison term at the El Diablo prison in Tres Cruces, run by a Capitán Pedro Alvarez.

“There she was raped and otherwise sexually abused by Alvarez on nearly a daily basis. Finally, unable to bear further ill treatment, she managed to drug the capitán and escape through a window from his apartment. She eventually made her way back to El Norte, and now her former husband, who has political influence, has intrigued to have her extradited from the United States and returned to prison.

“The woman, formerly known as Barbara Eagle and now as the recent widow of Walter Keeler, a very wealthy man from San Francisco, has inherited his wealth and is in a position to fight the extradition in the most public and time-consuming manner. Once her story is told and retold ad infinitum by the media on both sides of the border, both our countries will be faced with the worst sort of publicity, and in the end, she might well avoid extradition.

“I believe it would be to the advantage of both your ministry and Mrs. Keeler if you could suggest a discreet resolution to this affair. Mrs. Keeler understands that such a resolution would involve considerable expense and would see that your ministry does not suffer the costs.” Estevez sat back in his chair and waited for the deputy to speak.

“Where is the woman at this time?” the deputy asked.

“It is my understanding that she has left the United States, possibly for Italy.”

“So, that would complicate even further any attempt to return her to Mexico.” It was not a question.

“I am very much afraid that it would.”

“The prison warden, Alvarez, has already been dealt with,” the deputy said. “He is now supervising a prison work program in the jungles in the south of the country, and all records relevant to the woman have been removed from his former office. It is as if she was never there.”

“I see,” Estevez replied.

“I believe the simplest solution to our mutual problem would be if our president issued a pardon.”

“My client would be extremely grateful if that could be effected, Benicio.”