An Absence of Light

Chapter 71

2:40 P.M.

Graver leaned against a pillar of the porch and stared out across the bay, watching two freighters moving dead into Pelican Spit Soon they would tack sharply to the southeast and steam between the peninsula of Port Bolivar and the eastern tip of Galveston Island and head out into the open Gulf. The hazy heat of late June made it seem as though he was seeing them through a mirage or a daydream, ghost ships, sea-bound for ports unknown.

The diversion lasted less than a minute, and then Neuman was coming out the battered screen door that Ledet had bashed through.

Graver turned. “He can’t go anywhere?”

Neuman shook his head. “No.” He squinted out to the bright haze over the bay. “Now what?”

Graver looked at his watch. He stepped away from the edge of the porch and sat down in a rattan armchair. Both he and Neuman had shed their coats and rolled up their sleeves, and Graver’s gun, hugging his waist, had rubbed a raw spot on his side that was beginning to itch because of the sweat He wasn’t used to wearing the Sig-Sauer that much. It was too big to be comfortable.

“We’ve got enough evidence,” he said, watching the two ships. They were like the hour and minute hands of a clock, you could see that they were moving, but you couldn’t see them doing it “But I don’t think we’ve got enough time.”

Before Neuman could say anything, Graver went on. He spoke quickly, thinking out loud, his mind almost tripping over itself as he tried to work out the best course of action.

“Enough evidence to justify a tactical intervention, to go out to Kalatis’s and sweep up everything and everybody, and let it all get sorted out in the days and weeks to follow. I don’t have any doubt that what we have in the computers from Tisler and Burtell will justify it That and all the other crap, what we know, what we can substantiate, even keeping Arnette out of it… we have more than enough, enough even to spin this off into a dozen other directions and investigations.

“But,” he said, wiping his sweaty forehead on the shoulder of his shirt, “there’s not enough time to present all of this in the way it needs to be presented to convince the people who have to be convinced in order to get the raid authorized. And then there’s the matter of the tactical preparation. If this thing isn’t planned right…”

“If Kalatis is moving that kind of money,” Neuman said, “he’s going to have a lot of firepower. He doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy to move around underprotected.”

“No, you’re right,” Graver agreed. “And it’s going to take time to prepare a tactical action against something like that It’s probably even irresponsible of me to ask our tactical people to try an operation on this scale on only four or five hours notice. To do it right, it ought to involve boats, helicopters, cars”-he shook his head-”who knows how many men.”

“And we don’t have any idea of the layout at Kalatis’s place, do we?”

“No, we don’t,” Graver said. “It would be a nightmare. Frankly, I doubt if the tactical commanders would even consider it under the circumstances.”

He stood impatiently and shifted the gun at his waist. “Shit,” he said, and leaned again on the porch post The freighters were at another angle now, headed into the strait.

The telephone in the house rang, and Graver whirled around and burst past the broken screen door, through the kitchen and into the main room where Ledet sat bound on the floor, looking at the telephone on the rattan table as though it were a cobra.

“If this is Redden… be careful,” Graver said, putting his hand on the telephone. “If you screw this up, by God, I promise you I’ll make sure you die of old age in a cage.”

Ledet looked as if he were being confronted by Satan. The telephone kept ringing. Ledet nodded, and Neuman was on his knees unlocking Ledet’s handcuffs. Then Neuman stood and rushed back to the bedroom as Graver took the telephone off the rattan table and put it on the floor with Ledet.

“Okay!” Neuman yelled.

Ledet picked up the telephone on the sixth ring.

“Hello.” He tried to make his voice sound normal, whatever the hell that was. The past two hours had caused him to completely lose sight of it.

“Hey, Rick.”

“Eddie, what’s happenin’?”

“When did you get in?”

“About five-thirty yesterday. What happened to you?”

“Well, there’s a lot of shit going down with our friend here. When I called you we had a routine job. We still have a job, but now there’s nothing routine about it.”

“Something wrong?”

“No, not wrong, just… serious.”

“We going to clock some hours, then?”

“Yeah, a lot Look, I need you to come out to Las Copas, okay?”

“When?”

“Right about dusk. Eight-thirty would be good.”

“Can’t do it.” Ledet looked at Graver.

“What do you mean?”

“I came in with oil line problems, Eddie. I haven’t fixed it yet.”

“Why the hell not? You had time yesterday, didn’t you? You’ve had all day.” He hesitated. “You picked something up, didn’t you.”

“Well, yeah, I did…”

“Shit… is she still there?”

“Yeah,” Ledet said tentatively, as though he expected to be reprimanded for it.

“Christ,” Redden said. “Well, get the hell rid of her, Rick. Jesus, man, that was stupid.”

“How was I to know this was going to be something special,” Ledet said, looking at Graver. “Okay, I’ll get her out of here. What about Las Copas? Why don’t you just swing by and pick me up on the way?”

“I don’t know,” Redden said, sounding worried.

“What?” He raised his eyebrows to Graver, surprised. “What do you mean you don’t know? What’s the deal?”

“I told you this is serious, Rick. I’ve got a schedule, and it doesn’t include stopping by to pick you up, know what I mean?”

Graver grabbed his notepad, jotted something, and shoved it in front of Ledet.

“Where are you now? Can’t you just come get me now?”

“Forget it,” Redden said. “Look, Rick, can’t you patch up the oil problem? How bad could it be, for Christ’s sake? Rick, listen to me, trust me, just by-God get there. We’re going to pull in some big money on this one. Something’s going on here. I’ll tell you about it when you get there. Just believe me when I tell you you can’t miss this, okay? Besides that, I can’t go flying in there without a copilot. I don’t know what he’d do.”

Graver got on the floor and jotted another note on the pad holding it so Ledet could read it as he wrote.

“Okay, okay. Uh, I’ll, shit, I’ll try and patch it up somehow. But what about Las Copas, I mean is that where they’re staging this, whatever it is? I mean, what if I come in there slinging oil? I’m not going to want to do that if all those-”

“Wait a minute, Rick… uh, Rick, stand by.” Silence. “I’ll call you right back.”

The line went dead and Ledet sat on the floor looking astonished.

“Jesus. He just hung up, just like that,” Ledet said, looking up at Graver, still holding the receiver. “You think he smelled something? You think he knew something was wrong here?”

“Put down the damn receiver,” Graver snapped.

Ledet hung up. Neuman came into the room.

“I don’t think he suspected anything,” he said. “It sounded to me like he was interrupted from that end. I think we’re okay.”

“What’s Las Copas?” Graver asked.

“It’s a little strip Kalatis had cut in the boonies,” Ledet said. “Inland from Kalatis’s beach house, across Chocolate Bay in Brazoria County. It’s a secret strip, no roads in, just air traffic. A dirt top, bayous and low-water ponds all around. The pilots use it as a rendezvous point, and sometimes to transfer goods from planes to boats. There’s a navigable bayou within seventy-five yards of it, but it’s a swampy place.”

“It’s near Kalatis’s house?”

“Yeah. Ten, twelve air miles. He owns a shit-load of beachfront property across the West Bay from there, on the Gulf side of the island.”

The telephone rang again.

“See what he says before you repeat the part about patching the oil line,” Graver said as Neuman went back into the bedroom. “We want him here.”

Ledet nodded. “Hello?”

“It’s me,” Redden said. “Okay, look, I’m coming to pick you up. That was Wade. The whole thing’s been changed-again. New schedule. No problem about picking you up now. You’re a lucky son of a bitch, Ledet. This is better anyway. I can refuel at Bayfield and we’ll have time to get something to eat before we have to be in the air again.”

“Bayfield? I thought you were at Gulf.”

“No, man, change of plans. I didn’t take the Beechcraft. We got cargo. I’m in the PC, needed the extra muscle.”

“Oh,” Ledet said, looking at Graver for vindication. “Okay. Glad we got that straight Then when you going to be there?” Ledet asked.

“Uh, well, there’s plenty of time now so, let’s see, it’s almost three now. Why don’t you pick me up out there at… five. We’ll run over to Kemah for some crab before we start this little circus the Greek’s got planned. Gonna be a long night, Ricky. Hope you’re rested up.”

“Okay, five o’clock,” Ledet said, and hung up. He looked at Graver for approval.

“What’s a PC?” Graver asked.

“It’s a Pilatus PC-12 turboprop, a Swiss aircraft. A very fine piece of equipment.”

“What did he mean ‘extra muscle’?”

“The PC’s a power plane. It’s new, a corporate class aircraft, but a workhorse. It’s got a range of 1700 nautical miles, airspeed of 270 knots, and can carry up to a ton in payload-people, cargo, whatever, depending on whether you put in seats or decking.”

“Put your hands out,” Graver said, and when Ledet did Graver snapped the cuffs again and sat down in one of the rattan chairs, looking at Ledet on the floor.

“That’s good,” Neuman said, coming back into the room.

Graver nodded, but his eyes had shifted to the white heat outside, beyond the sunless rooms and the shady porch. No one said anything as Graver stared outside. The afternoon was hot enough now that you could smell it, the vegetation and soil and bay water heated to the point that they exuded odors all their own, odors that never occurred at any other time than on the most sweltering days of summer. It was hot even in the house now, the temperature outside outstripping the natural coolness inherent to the marriage of shadow and breeze. Now the hot breath off the bay intruded to the point of rudeness, leaving them no recourse but to sweat and wish it was later in the afternoon.

“Look, how much longer am I supposed to stay back there?” Alice asked, standing in the doorway to the main room. She was holding onto the door frame with one hand, standing on one foot, the other foot pulled up and pressed against the inside of her knee.

“Not much longer,” Neuman said.

“It’s three o’clock,” she said. “Right at it, anyway.”

“Maybe an hour,” Neuman said, not having any idea.

“An hour? God dog!” She wheeled around in exasperation and returned to the bedroom.

Graver looked at Neuman, nodded his head sideways toward the porch and then got up and walked back through the kitchen again carrying his handset, with Neuman following. When he got outside he dialed Arnette.

“I’ve got some news for you,” Arnette said, and she told him what had happened at Connie’s condominium. “They just walked out, Marcus,” she said. “There really wasn’t anything else they could do.”

“Goddamn.” The deaths made Graver furious. He didn’t feel exactly responsible for them, but he did feel connected to them somehow. They were deaths for which he felt a sense of guilt. Kalatis was at the root of two more acts of despair. The man was the angel of despair.

“What’s happened to Kalatis’s ‘veiled’ hits?” he asked. “A bomb, now this. What’s going on here?”

“I’m wondering if it’s him,” Arnette said.

“Who, then? Geis?”

“Maybe. What puzzles me is the erratic pattern of the hits. They don’t ring true. Bombing at the marina. Veiled hit on Hormann. Obvious assassination of Faeber. Either Kalatis is losing his grip… or someone with a heavier hand has stepped in.”

“You’re sticking with your ‘government man’ theory, then?”

“I don’t know,” Arnette admitted. “If there’s a second hitter involved… if it’s Geis… the government’s coming unhinged.”

“Before now I thought you were wrong,” Graver said. “Now I think you’re right, but I’m hoping you’re wrong.”

“I just don’t know why-if I’m right about a second hitter-why is he playing into Kalatis’s game? I mean, ideally Kalatis would have wanted Burtell and Sheck and Faeber dead anyway, as a part of his plan to burn his bridges. Why is someone stepping in and helping him out… so crudely?”

“I don’t know,” Graver said. “I don’t know about any of that, but I do know I made a mistake by not pulling in Faeber. Honestly, I didn’t anticipate that I should have, I just didn’t.”

“What about Faeber-and the woman? Do you want us to put in an anonymous call to Homicide?”

“No,” Graver said quickly. “That’ll only bring everything down on me even faster.”

“Jesus, baby, that’s going to be a mess for that girl to find.”

“I can’t help that,” Graver said.

There was a pause and then Arnette asked, “So what did you find out from your pilot then?”

He told her about their interview with Ledet and the options he and Neuman had been discussing.

“Well, you’re probably right there,” Arnette said. “This is going to be over by tomorrow morning. And I think you’re right in assuming Kalatis is getting ready to disappear. I can’t believe it. This has been one hell of an incredible run. Paula’s still plowing through Burtell’s account He was thorough, Marcus. Everything’s there. It’s going to cause a sensation when you finally come out with it.”

“It’ll have to wait.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going after Kalatis. I’m going to try to turn Eddie Redden,” Graver said. “What about Murray and Remberto?”

“What do you mean? You want to use them?”

“I want to know if they’d help me out.”

“Do what?”

“I don’t know. I just want to know if they’d be interested.”

“Are you sure… you know what you’re doing, Marcus? No offense, but-”

“No offense taken,” Graver interrupted.” If you don’t feel good about it tell them so. I don’t know any more than I’m telling you. I just want to know if I have anyone I can rely on if it looks like there’s something I can do when the time comes. Guns blazing is hardly my style, Arnette, so don’t worry about it. On the other hand, after what they went through at Connie’s they know what kind of stuff they might expect. I just need some competent people who’ve at least been to a firing range in the last six months.”

Arnette didn’t say anything for a moment.

“Maybe they’ll help you out,” she said finally. “But probably not for the good of mankind. They’ve worked for the government before. It doesn’t pay what it ought to for what you have to do. They may respect you, baby, but they’ve already given at the office.”

“I can’t pay them anything,” Graver said, “but if I’m right about what we’re going to be getting into here, we’ll be picking up a lot of hot cash. Maybe millions. I could use some help keeping up with it.”

Arnette was silent again. He knew she understood what he was saying. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll ask them.”

“If they’re interested, I’ll have to have them here as soon as possible, but no later than four-thirty.” He gave Arnette the address. “If they’re coming, have them call me.”

He disconnected and dialed Rayner Faeber’s number. She answered, and he asked for Last When Last came on, Graver said:

“This is for your ears only, Victor.”

Last paused only a second. “Yeah, okay.”

“I need your help. There’s money in it” That was a bit of an exaggeration, Graver thought, but since Last was in the exaggeration business he ought to understand that. “If you want in you’ll have to leave right now. I’ll give you an address.”

“I understand,” Last said. “Give it to me.”

Graver gave the address of a service station a couple of miles from where they were. He didn’t trust the extension phones in Faeber’s house.

“You need to be there at four o’clock,” Graver said. “Okay?”

“I’ll be there.”

Graver hung up and looked at Neuman. “You okay with what’s going on here?”

“So far,” Neuman said.

It was the kind of response Graver appreciated. He could trust Neuman to tell him if it didn’t smell right to him. With the exception of Last, who Graver thought would be the wild card in the operation, he knew he could expect the same from Murray and Remberto, if they decided to come in. They had seen a hell of a lot more of this sort of thing than he had.

“Okay, good,” Graver said. The handset rang, and he answered immediately.

“Is this Marcus Graver?”

“Yes, I’m Graver.”

“This is Remberto. We’re on our way right now.”

Disconnect.

Graver looked at his watch. It was ten minutes after three o’clock. An hour and fifty minutes before Eddie Redden was supposed to touch down at the small strip at Bayfield.