Potshot

Chapter 54

I SAT ON the front porch with my Winchester rifle leaning against the porch railing beside me, and talked on the portable phone to Samuelson in L.A.

"You got any surveillance on Tannenbaum?" I said.

"Me? No."

"Organized Crime Unit, maybe?"

"Don't know. Lemme call you back."

I punched off, and sat and looked at the angular desert plants for awhile. Up the hill from the house, with a view of the road, Bobby Horse was taking his turn with one of the little black-and-yellow walkietalkies we'd bought. In the house Cholla had the other one. As Bernard J. Fortunato had explained, being murdered in our beds would suck.

Peripherally I saw movement in the brush at the right corner of the house. I put down the cell phone and picked up the Winchester. A deer came delicately out from the cover, stopped short, and stared at me with its enormous dark eyes. I put the gun back down. The deer twitched its oversized ears a couple of times. I didn't move. After more staring and twitching, the deer ate a leaf off of one of the dry desert plants, then did a big leap into the woods and vanished.

The portable phone rang. It was Samuelson.

"OCU's got nothing going on with Tannenbaum," he said. "But the Feds do."

"FBI?"

"Yep."

"And?"

"And they are not sharing it with us."

"Nice cooperation," I said.

"You got anybody who'll whisper it to you?"

"Maybe, but then I got to whisper stuff to him."

"Okay," I said. "I know a guy."

"I was sure you would," Samuelson said, and broke the connection.

I went in the house and looked up a number in my address book and came back out and sat and dialed it up. A man answered on the first ring.

"Yes?"

I said, "Ives?"

"Who's calling?"

"Spenser."

There was a pause while Ives processed me through his memory banks.

"Well," he said. "Lochinvar."

"I need a favor," I said.

"In which case you will then owe me one."

"There's a guy named Morris Tannenbaum. Runs most of the rackets east of L.A."

"Really?" Ives said.

"The Bureau has surveillance on him," I said. "I need to talk with someone who has access to it."

"Our cousins at the Bureau are not usually forthcoming with surveillance data," Ives said.

"Gimme a guy to talk with," I said.

I waited.

"Wilbur," he said. "Wilbur Harris."

I waited.

"I'll call Wilbur, give him a heads up on your behalf."

"Got the phone number?"

He gave it to me.

"Call Wilbur in half an hour," Ives said, and broke the connection.

Bernard J. Fortunato came onto the porch carrying a street sweeper.

"Lot of firepower for a guy your size," I said.

"Fifty rounds of twelve-gauge shotgun shells," Bernard said. "Automatic. Vinnie showed me how to modify it."

"He show you how to hit what you shoot at?" I said.

"Already knew that," Bernard said.

"I guess that thing makes accuracy less of an issue."

"You think I'm not accurate?" Bernard said. "I'm accurate."

"I hope so," I said. "I don't want you shooting one of us with that thing."

I was watching the brush where the deer had silently moved. There was always some sort of muffled visceral tug when I looked at a wild animal. I never really knew what the tug was. But I liked it when it happened.

"You sure they're going to come?" Bernard said.

"They'll come."

"We backed them down pretty good in town," Bernard said.

"There's forty of them and seven of us," I said.

"You think The Preacher doesn't know that?"

"So?"

"So why fight us when the odds are even?"

"Then why don't we try what Bobby Horse says? Lock them up in the valley and shoot them from up above?"

I shook my head.

"Lot of us think it's the way to go," Bernard said.

"I don't," I said.

"Maybe we should vote."

"Maybe I should make my phone call," I said. Bernard shrugged and walked down to the other end of the porch. I called Wilbur Harris.

"I don't usually do this," Harris said. "But our mutual friend is entitled to a favor."

"You got surveillance on a guy in L.A. named Morris Tannenbaum?"

"No further mention of names, please," said. "We have him under consideration."

"Phone tap?" I said.

"Yes."

"Visual surveillance?"

"Yes."

"Got a bug in the house?"

"Yes. In his study."

"How long?"

"Two years."

"He make you?"

"I think he's spotted the visual. They all assume they're tapped. I don't think he's wise to the bug."

"Can you give me the logs from the bug?"

"Sure," Harris said. "Maybe do your tax returns for you?"

"And transcripts?"

"You can't have the transcripts. It would take too long to copy them."

"How about I give you a few names and if you come across them, you send me their transcripts?"

"Gimme the names. I'll see what we can do."

I gave him some names.

"If they're all in the logs it's too many," he said. "We got a serious problem staffing clerical help."

"God forbid you do the Xeroxing yourself."

"God forbid."

"Can you overnight them to me?"

"And what do we get?" Harris said.

"I think Tannenbaum's tied to a big swindle," I said. "If I can bust my end of it, you might get Tannenbaum."

"Gimme your address."

I did.