Inside Out

89

Fred Archer punched Johnny Russo's telephone number into a pad on the portable panel's keyboard. Sean wore a set of earphones outfitted with a microphone. A city-traffic sound track played in the background. Archer sat across the panel from her, wearing the second set of earphones.

Russo answered immediately. “Yeah?”

“Where's Sam?” Sean said.

Sam's voice came on the line, causing Sean to jerk involuntarily. “Why didn't you come to see me instead of this telephone thing?”

Overwhelmed for a second, she didn't know what to say.

“I hear that somebody's been messin' around with you,” Sam said.

“That's a surprise?” Sean retorted, feeling genuine anger. “They came to an island, then they followed me to another city, and you're telling me you don't know anything about that?”

There was a long silence, during which Sean could hear Sam's raspy breathing. She knew he wouldn't say anything that could be played back to him in court.

“I don't know nothing about any of that. Sounds like one of them shoot-'em-up movies or something else crazy. You can tell me all about whatever this is when I see you.”

“When I see you? Aren't you listening? My marriage ended suddenly and those aren't suitors chasing me all over. The cops are blaming me for that big mess at the hotel in Richmond last night. If they get me or you do, it's all the same.”

“You afraid of me?” There was something that sounded like concern in his tone, Sean wasn't that easily fooled. Snakes seem perfectly harmless until they bare their fangs.

“I have nothing to lose. I have no place to go and no means to get there. If we don't get this straightened out-”

“I said I'd fix it,” Sam told her impatiently.

Archer motioned for her to set a time for the meeting.

“Tell me where you at now and I'll have someone come pick you up.”

Archer nodded vigorously at her. Sean had done as he said and let Sam insist that she come see him, not have him believe she was the one who desired a meeting.

“I'll meet you at the old Maison Blanche garage. I'll be in a purple Chrysler convertible.”

“Herb will pick you up in an hour on the fourth level. He'll bring you to the house and we can talk about what's up and I'll take care of everything.”

An hour? Before Sean could ask for more time, Archer ended the call by flipping a switch on the board.

“We got work to do,” he told her.

“One hour?” Sean snapped, jerking the headset off. “Are you nuts? You can have all of those safeguards you been jabbering about in place in an hour? You said it would take time to make sure everything was ready. You're as crazy as Manelli is.”

“He's always been suspicious,” Archer said calmly. “If we give him more time he'll start working his channels; he might find out we're here and queer the deal. We can be ready in one hour. Right, Agent Finch?”

“What if his people shoot me in the garage?”

“He'd never do that.”

“How can you be so sure?” she demanded.

“It's not his style, that's why. I know everything there is to know about Manelli. He'll have his driver pick you up because he can't risk doing that himself and because he'll figure the chances are good we've put you up to this. The driver will try to shake a tail, but we'll be right there. No matter what he does, we'll be on you. Isn't that right, Finch?”

“Absolutely, sir,” Finch agreed. “We have the latest electronic tracker. It's a fail-safe operation.”

“This is messed up,” Sean said. She threw the headset onto the couch in disgust.

“Do you really think we'd let Sam Manelli hurt you?”

“I don't know if you would or not. Do I think you could stop him from doing it? Absolutely not. And if you truly think you can, you're a bigger putz than I already thought you were.”

“You're going to be wired. First admission or threat, we roll in and pop him.”

“As soon as his driver finds the wire or spots your people, he drives away. Then you can go home, because Manelli won't come within ten miles of me. If he thinks you're behind this, they'll search me before I meet with him.”

“Think we aren't way ahead of that?” Archer left the room and came back carrying an Atlanta Braves baseball cap, which he handed to her. He pointed at the cloth-covered button in the top. “This contains a new generation position and communication bug. The transmission is not detectable by normal bug catchers. It will tell us where you are, and we can hear conversations at an unlimited distance, thanks to our nice satellite. And we'll make sure we know who goes into the lot.”

She tried the cap on and looked in the mirror. “Lucky me. I'm on a winning team.”