Inside Out

87

New Orleans, Louisiana

The Windsor Court on Gravier Street sat within rock-throwing distance from the city's new downtown casino. The hotel was built in the 1980s, intended to be the finest in America. Fred Archer was probably the first person to encamp an FBI army in the 3,000-square-foot, four-thousand-dollar-a-night penthouse suite, but the staff could easily assume the group was the entourage and security for a reclusive movie or rock star.

While the FBI agents went about checking their equipment cases and making telephone calls on encryption units, Winter sat on a couch below a pastoral oil painting of a sleeping child nestled in the curve of the body of a furry dog, which was keeping vigil. The painting was a perfect metaphor for WITSEC. He wore a fresh T-shirt in contrast to his filthy jeans.

At two-thirty P.M. Special Agent Finch led Hank and Sean into the living room. Trammel seized Winter's hand and slapped him hard on the shoulder. “Hey, Hoss,” Hank said.

“Hank. It's good to see you.” A few hours earlier he had been sure that his life was over.

Sean smiled when Winter turned his eyes to her. “Like my hair? I did it with a sand wedge.”

“It looks fine, Sean,” he said, meaning it.

“Let's get this show on the road,” Archer's voice interrupted as he strode into the room. “Take him and go,” Archer ordered Hank. “We have a lot of work to do.”

“Let's get going. I'll buy you both lunch at Galatoire's.”

Archer folded his arms. “Sean Devlin, you're under arrest for the murders of two United States marshals and interstate flight to avoid prosecution.”

Winter bristled. “You know that's total bullshit, Archer. She didn't kill anybody.”

Archer turned to Trammel. “Get him out of my sight.”

“My Walther?” Winter asked Archer.

Archer nodded at Finch, who disappeared for a few seconds and returned with the antique Walther PP, which he handed to Winter.

“Now get him out,” Archer said.

“What the hell is your hurry?” Hank asked through clenched teeth. “You think giving these people a couple of minutes to talk will jeopardize your record as the world's biggest prick?”

Archer frowned, but seemed to decide that Hank's was not a wholly unreasonable request. “Two minutes.” He left the room with Finch following like a dog expecting a treat.

“I'll be at the door,” Hank said.

“Exactly what's the deal here?” Winter asked Sean when they were alone.

“They want me to do something for them in exchange for making something that happened in Richmond last night go away.”

“What do they think you can do for them?”

“Help them get Sam Manelli.”

“That's crazy. What makes them think you can do that?”

Sean looked down. “Because I know him.”

“How?”

“It's a long story-I didn't know Dylan knew him, much less worked for him. But Sam doesn't know that, and he won't believe it no matter what I say. He thinks I betrayed him, even though I didn't. I have to do this, because unless the FBI gets him, I'll never be safe.”

“So on Rook, those four were sent by Manelli to kill you. That's why they were still after you?”

“As far as Sam is concerned, I'm unfinished business. After those women tried to kill me in Richmond, I thought maybe I could explain to him that I didn't have anything to do with Dylan betraying him. I made a call to one of his people hoping to buy some time, and the FBI found out. I decided to find you so we could try to figure out a way to get this mess sorted out. You have to believe that I was going to come clean with you.”

Tears filled her eyes. “I'm sorry, Winter. All I've ever wanted is to live a normal life, and this is the only way that's ever going to happen.”

“Archer can't make you do anything that puts you in danger.”

“The FBI does what it wants.”

She was right. Winter had witnessed Archer's sleight of hand. He knew that Archer wasn't interested in the truth unless it fit where he needed it to.

“I know who the killers were and I think I can prove Greg wasn't involved. After I talk to Chief Marshal Shapiro, I believe he can put a stop to all this.”

“Time's up.” Finch was standing in the doorway.

Winter kept his eyes on Sean's. Finch turned his back.

“You watch yourself,” he told her. “I'll do everything I can as fast as possible.”

“Winter, can I hug you? For luck?”

He squeezed her to him and held her there, then kissed her on the forehead. “I'm going to do whatever it takes to make sure nobody hurts you.”

She looked into his eyes. “No. You go home to your family. I'll call you when this is over. I'll be fine.”

Winter released her. “After this is over, nobody will have to order me to watch over you.”

She smiled and hugged him again, squeezing very hard. “I'd like that. Now, go.”

He walked out, leaving Sean in an expensively appointed den of wolves.