Stuart Woods - Swimming To Catalina

“Was there any other purpose?”

“I believe Mr. Ippolito wanted Mr. X to participate in other of his business activities, but I am not familiar with those.”

“I ask you again, Mr. O’Hara, have you given this interview without duress, and with only the seeking of immunity from prosecution as your motive?”

“Yes.”

Rick switched off the recorder. “All right, that’s enough for now. I’m going to get you a promise of immunity from the feds, then allow them to question you in a lot more detail about Ippolito’s, Sturmack’s, and Barone’s business affairs.”

“I’ll have a lot more to say,” O’Hara said.

“Good.” Rick picked up the phone on the man’s desk and dialed a number. “This is Rick Grant; I’m arresting a man who has given me a statement implicating a number of other people in serious crimes. I want a secure hotel room arranged for himnow, where he can be interviewed in greater depth. Yes, I’ll hold.” He covered the phone. “I’m going to move Billy now, then we can talk again to Cable and Rubens.” He went back to the phone. “Good. Send an unmarked car and two detectives to the Centurion Studios security department now to pick up my man. His name is William O’Hara. Yes, the same. Got all that? Good.” He hung up.

Less than ten minutes passed before the two detectives arrived.

“Put him in the back of the car, no cuffs, no fuss, and take him to the hotel,” Rick said. “Then get his house keys, go there, and get him some clothes. I don’t want him touched.”

The men departed with O’Hara.

Rick picked up the phone again and called Hank Cable at the FBI. “Hank,” he said, “we’ve got a witness against Ippolito, Sturmack, and Barone.” He gave him the name of the hotel. “Can you and Rubens meet us there in an hour? Ask for me at the front desk.” He hung up and turned to Stone. “Let’s get over there; I want Cable and Rubens to interrogate Billy. Once that’s done we’ll know our next move.”

Stone was shaken awake by Rick Grant. He was laying fully dressed on a bed in one of the two bedrooms of Rick’s secure hotel suite.

“Come on into the living room,” Rick said.

Stone looked at his watch; it was seven-thirty in the morning. He followed Rick into the living room, where two video cameras, two tape recorders, and some lights had been set up. “Where’s O’Hara?” Stone asked.

“We let him get some sleep,” Rick said. “Hank and John have pretty much bled him dry, and it’s all on video and audio. They want to talk to you.”

Stone sat down and poured himself some coffee from a thermos. “How’d it go, gentlemen?”

“It went very well,” Hank Cable said, “but he may not be all we need.”

Stone didn’t like the sound of that. “Why not?”

“He’ll be a good witness, but a defense lawyer of the quality that Ippolito and Sturmack will hire will give him a very hard time on the stand.”

“So?”

“Sturmack and Ippolito will take the stand and say that sure, they hired him to help in acquiring the Centurion stock, but that was all. They’ll blame any of his confessed illegal activity on O’Hara himself, and their lawyer will make much of O’Hara’s accepting bribes from organized crime and his involvement in murder.”

“So what are you saying?” Stone asked.

“I’m saying that as good as O’Hara is, he may not be enough. If we could persuade Vance Calder to testify, that would help, of course, but…”

“But Vance is not going to do it,” Stone said. “You can’t count on that for a minute.”

“If we want to button this thing up, we’re going to need more,” Cable said.

“What about your wiretaps? Surely O’Hara’s testimony will get you extensions on your search warrants and some new warrants, too.”

“That will take time,” Rick Grant said. “Sturmack will hear that Regenstein has fired O’Hara, and Ippolito’s people are going to notice that O’Hara has vanished off the face of the earth. When they do, they could shut down Barone’s operation, leaving us high and dry. They could even cut and run, if they’re nervous enough. I just don’t think we have weeks or months to sit and listen to wiretaps and try to decipher them.”

“Have you arrested Barone yet? He knows where the bodies are buried, and I’ll bet he could be broken.”

“Maybe, but he’ll more than likely lawyer up, get out on bail, and disappear. We don’t want to take him until our case is solid.”

“Anybody got any ideas?” Stone asked.

There followed a long silence on the part of everybody.

Finally Hank Cable said, “We were hoping that you might have an idea. You’ve been pretty good so far.”

It was Stone’s turn to be silent. “Ippolito doesn’t know that I’m alive,” he said at last.

“We’re not absolutely certain of that,” Rick said. “Remember, Ippolito’s yacht captain knows you by sight.”

“But not by name. O’Hara doesn’t think Ippolito knows I’m alive.”

“Okay, maybe he doesn’t know,” Rick agreed.

“Why don’t I pay him a visit? Have a talk with him? You could wire me.”

Rick was shaking his head. “You heard O’Hara say yesterday that when he went to Ippolito’s office he was searched for weapons and a wire.”

“Good point,” Stone said.

Cable spoke up. “What size shoe do you wear, Stone?”

“A 10 D,” Stone replied. “Why?”

“Maybe there’s a way. Tell you what: you go back to your hotel, get some breakfast, a shower, and a change of clothes, and I’ll meet you there in a couple of hours.”

Stone arrived back at the Bel-Air to find Dino still sound asleep. He got undressed, shaved, and got into the shower. When he came out, Dino was up.

“Where the hell have you been all night?” Dino asked. “I was worried.”

“Sorry I didn’t call home, Mom; I was at an all-night interrogation.”

“Of who?”

Stone brought him up to date while he got dressed.

“What’s this about shoes?” Dino asked.

“Beats me,” Stone said. “Let’s get some breakfast.”

They had just finished eating when Hank Cable and Rick Grant arrived. Cable had a shoebox under his arm.

“Take off your shoes and pants,” Cable said. “Your underwear, too.”

Stone followed his instructions. “No pictures,” he said.

Cable opened the shoebox and took out a pair of wingtips. “They’re 9½ C’s,” he said. “It was the best I could do.”

“I take it these are some sort of federal high-tech wingtips,” Stone said.

“Good guess. Put them on.”

Stone put on the shoes. “They’re tight,” he said.

“You’ll live,” Cable replied. He took some wires and a roll of tape out of the shoebox. “Here’s how it works,” he said. “In the heel of one shoe is a tape recorder; in the heel of the other shoe is a transmitter.” He plugged a very slim wire into a tiny receptacle at the top rear of each shoe. “Turn around.”

Stone turned around.

Cable began running a wire up the back of Stone’s right leg, taping it in place, then he followed with the left leg. “Okay, now put your shorts and your pants on.”

Stone got dressed.

“Now we tape the wires running around your waist to the front,” Cable said, “and we attach these two little microphones to the two wires.” He did so, then he taped the tiny microphones to Stone’s belly. They were nestled in his navel.

“Now you can stick your shirttail in and buckle your belt.”

Stone did as he was told.

“Now,” Cable said, “if they frisk you for a wire they’ll be looking for a small transmitter taped to your chest or in the small of your back, or maybe even in your crotch. They won’t be looking at the heels of your shoes. Even if they pat you down very thoroughly, the wires are too thin to feel through the fabric of your suit.”