Justice by Fire

3

Agent Gallucci of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, impatiently drummed his fingers on the desktop. As David Holt detailed the information his firm had gathered on Colonel Quesada, Gallucci stared out of his office window at the smog-gray skyline of Los Angeles.

Holt took a folder from his briefcase. "Here are photocopies of the death threats against my clients. Photographs of the murdered child and administrative assistant. A photo of the men who followed Mr. Marquez in San Salvador. These are photos of the Salvadoran soldiers who arrived in Miami. My client identified this man as one of the murderers of Ricardo Marquez. Other sources identify..."

Swiveling his chair around, Agent Gallucci interrupted the attorney. "Why don't you take all this to the Salvadoran Embassy?"

"Because this concerns the murder of an American citizen..."

"Who got killed in El Salvador. We don't investigate what happens in other countries."

"There is reason to believe that Quesada ordered the murder of Marquez from Miami. The murderers are now in the United States..."

"Reason to believe? What does that mean?"

"Quesada is the commander of the death squad. Marquez attempted to interview him in Miami. The next month, when Marquez traveled to El Salvador to report on terrorism directed against the land-reform programs, he noticed men following him through the city. He photographed those men before evading them — or believing he evaded them. The next day, while he was waiting to speak with my client, he was murdered with machetes."

"The State Department says he got killed in combat, in a cross fire between the army and the Communists."

"The autopsy will disprove that..."

"What autopsy?"

"The newspaper has sent a doctor to examine the body."

"Until the State Department issues another statement, he died in combat. Occupational hazard for newspapermen creeping around in other people's wars. Maybe you ought to take all this over to OSHA office."

"May I quote you on that?"

"I tell you what, Mr. Holt. Why don't you bring your clients in. We'll talk about all this. I'll call down the hall to the INS. We'll have one of their officers stop by to discuss extending your clients' visas. Chances are all this will take months to sort through."

"That won't be possible."

The middle-aged FBI agent faked surprise. "You mean, your clients won't come in to talk about this? You implied you had their full cooperation — oh… I know what the problem is. They're illegal. You're representing some Commie wetbacks, aren't you? What do you intend to do, sell your crazy story to the networks?"

"My clients are in fear for their lives..."

"You better be in fear for your freedom, Mr. Pro Bono. And your practice. Aiding and abetting illegal entry into this country is a crime. You want to go to prison?"

Holt returned the documents and photos to his briefcase. He glanced at his watch. "Do you watch the news programs in the evenings, Agent Gallucci?"

"Sure. Got to know what's happening in the world."

"Watch tonight."

The attorney left the federal office without another word.