Tim Green - Above The Law

"What's her number?" Casey asked, cutting her off. "We're heading back to the clinic. Jose says all we have to do to get inside is cut through some police tape. Screw the EPA. I'll meet her there."

"He told me you were planning to go there while you were asleep," Sharon said.

"So what's her number?" Casey asked.

"You don't have to call her," Sharon said. "She's already there."

"It's like four in the morning," Casey said.

"She sounded scared.''

THE CLINIC LOOKED LIFELESS UNDER THE WEAK ORANGE GLOW from the streetlight on the corner. Nothing but shadows lay beneath the old pump station roof. Mandy's Range Rover waited for them in the back. As soon as the Mercedes rounded the corner of the building, the Rover's dome light went on and Mandy hopped out. She wore a white designer jogging suit with her bleached blonde hair pulled into a ponytail. With no makeup, the lines of age and the red-rimmed eyes added fifteen years to her face. Casey hopped out of the car and smelled liquor in the air.

"I'll do it," Mandy said, shaking her head. "I'll ruin him. He thinks I won't, but I will. Little gargoyle."

"Come inside," Casey said gently.

Jose led the way to the back door, cutting through the yellow police tape and placing his hand on the warning sticker sealing the door that announced that tampering with it was a federal offense that would be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

"Vandals," Jose said, slicing through the sticker.

Casey handed him her key. He jangled the set and opened the door, flipping on the lights. The file cabinets and shelves stood open and barren. Casey righted one of the guest chairs in front of her desk, offering it to Mandy. Jose ducked out to the car and returned with a tray loaded with triple cappuccinos. He offered one to Mandy. She took it and sipped.

Casey took one, too, and drank gratefully, letting the caffeine rush through her empty stomach to her brain. Mandy slapped a manila folder against her leg.

"I'm glad you made it back," Mandy said, looking from Jose to Casey. "You wouldn't have, if he got his way. He wanted you killed in Mexico. I heard him say it."

"Anyone else with him when he said it?" Casey asked, hopeful.

"Jeff Macken."

"Who is he?"

"My husband's chief of staff," Mandy said. "He knows everything."

Casey hesitated. "Is he a lawyer?"

"Yes."

Casey's face fell.

"What?" Mandy asked.

"Privileged information," Casey said. "And you're his wife. You couldn't testify to what you heard, and anything that evolved out of your telling the story would be contaminated and excluded. We have a lot of different pieces of the story, but nothing that we can use in a court to pin it on your husband."

"We know he worked through Gage," Jose said. "We know he killed Elijandro. They're sending these people down to Mexico to test pharmaceutical drugs, and we know your husband must somehow be linked to Kroft, the company doing it."

"Now we need to prove it," Casey said. "If we do, even though it won't be enough to prosecute your husband, we think it'll be enough leverage to get them to stop."

"Here's your leverage," Mandy said, pushing the folder across the desk. "I heard him talking about you showing up at Kroft, so I took a look in his private drawer and found these. Offshore bank accounts in my husband's name. Deposits from Kroft Labs, in the millions. How does that work for leverage, Miss Jordan?"

"Like a crowbar.''

CASEY DROVE TOWARD THE SENATOR'S RANCH WITH HER HAND ON Jose's leg, absently stroking the thick muscles. The sky ahead glowed with the promise of dawn. They turned off the country road and drove through the gates and under the metal archway that read LUCKY STAR. When the enormous hacienda came into view, Casey pressed her lips together and nodded her head. Her ex-husband came from this kind of wealth, the same fantasy world, and had been molded into the same type of asshole. Red-tiled roofs shaded the white adobe walls. Intricate wrought-iron doors and shutters graced the arched openings. Potted cacti and flowers crowded the tiled terraces and doorways, and a carefully manicured green lawn sprawled beneath giant gnarled oak trees that reached for the perfect navy blue sky.

Nearly a dozen gardeners crouched close to the ground, already pruning, digging, clipping, and sweeping in the gloom. A handsome young man wearing a white dress shirt and black slacks hurried from the house to open Casey's door and show them in. The young man's smile revealed gleaming white teeth and beads of sweat that glistened on his brown upper lip. A bronze lantern the size of a small car hung in the enormous circular foyer and a sweeping staircase ascended either side.

The young man led them into a study just off the foyer. They were greeted by Indian rugs, teak furniture upholstered in dark brown leather and animal skins, and the cool smell of old leather books. A ceiling fan swung its paddles in a lazy circle above. Jose slumped down in a leather reclining chair with his hands buried in his pockets while Casey took a seat by the deep barred window, clutching her briefcase tight and studying an oil painting of buffalo on a plain. They sat for almost ten minutes before the hardware on the door rattled.

When a strange man in an olive suit came through the door, Casey stood and craned her neck, expecting Chase. The man shut the door and held out his hand.

"Jeff Macken," he said.

Jose stared sullenly, and Casey looked at his hand until he put it down.

"Where's Chase?" Casey asked.

Macken's eyebrows shot up. "The senator? He has an extremely busy day that's already begun. He asked me to get this worked out."

"Do you know what I have here?" Casey asked, patting her briefcase. "Here, take a look."

She withdrew copies of the records Sharon had uncovered on Kroft.

"I'll lay it out for you the way I would with a jury," she said. "This is the pharmaceutical lab Kroft runs in Mexico, the place we know they're using human beings as guinea pigs."

Macken took the papers without expression.

"These are the transport records of the truck we have eyewitness reports of leaving the senator's quarry." Casey handed him a DVD. "You'll see the truck go through Mexican customs on this, positively IDed by our witnesses."

Casey handed him a separate folder and said, "I'd say this is our star piece of evidence, but it's not. Good enough, though. Copies of bank records showing the millions the senator has received from Kroft Labs."

Casey shut the briefcase. Macken looked up from the papers and studied her face.

"Anything else?" he asked.

"Oh," she said, fishing into her pants pocket and taking out her cell phone, "right. This is the real kicker. The jury will love this, a cop on the witness stand always works wonders. Lots of credibility."

Macken shot a sneering smile at Jose and said, "Ex-cops bounced for corruption? Ex-cops under investigation for murder? He doesn't quite count, does he?"

Casey glanced at Jose, then turned her attention to Macken and said, "Oh, not Jose. No. Someone near and dear to your heart. Our star witness."

She hit the play button on her phone, already cued to the right point, and Gage's voice filled the room.

"They're gone. They're all gone…" Gage said.

"Where?" Teuch's muffled voice asked.

" Mexico ," Gage said. " I don't know where. I don't. Chase knows. He knows."

Casey snapped it shut before Gage's scream and let the soft paddling of the fan fill the silence.

"You think he's too busy for this?" she asked.

"What do you want?" Macken asked.

"Everything I said on the phone," she said.

Macken blinked, looked at her blankly, and then said, "I think I should speak with the senator directly."