The Einstein Papers

CHAPTER 37

Sandra Miles had the healthy good looks of a Minnesota farm girl. She was beautiful without being cute, witty without being coy. One of thirty female agents employed by the Special Security Service, she had long ago learned that a sense of humor went a long way in dealing with men. It was early morning as she walked from the commercial jet at the Harlingen airport. Spotting the Texas Ranger immediately, she walked over with her carry-on bag draped from her shoulder. "One crisis, one ranger," she said, smiling. The joke was one that had followed the Texas Rangers for years. It heralded back to a time in history when the Rangers had been called to southern Texas to quell a riot. When a lone ranger arrived and checked in with the local sheriff, the sheriff said, "They only sent one of you?" "One riot, one ranger," the ranger had replied. It turned out that a lone ranger was all that was needed.

"It seems you know our history," the ranger said. "Mark Carlton." Carlton thrust out his hand and received a firm shake from Miles.

"I like history," Miles said as the pair walked through the airport toward Carlton s Bronco.

"Do you want me to help you with that bag?"

"I'm a big girl," Miles said. "My only question is just who do I have to sleep with to get some information?"

Carlton laughed as Miles tossed her bag in the back of the Bronco. "You're the first fed I think I'm going to enjoy working with," he said as he unlocked the truck and climbed into the driver's seat.

Steering through the Harlingen traffic Carlton got onto Interstate 77 for the short trip to Brownsville. "I originally was called down from Austin about the theft of a vat of microbes from a laboratory in McAllen," Carlton said as he engaged the cruise control and settled in for the drive.

"What about the murders?" Miles said.

The druggie copping the deal and telling us about the murders was just frosting on the cake. I'm assuming you're more interested in the loss of the microbes."

"That's correct. Our office was concerned what might happen if terrorists got hold of the bugs." Miles glanced at a thermos wedged between the seats. "Mind if I have a cup of that coffee?"

"Help yourself."

"Thanks. Anyway, our thinking was that in the hands of terrorists the microbes could be introduced into things like the lubricating oil in power transformers, commercial jet engines, that sort of thing. Terrorists could definitely raise some havoc if they put those bugs in the right places."

Miles twisted the cap back on the thermos and sipped the steaming coffee. Carlton stared out the windshield and thought for a few moments. "That's a distinct possibility, Agent Miles."

"Call me Sandra."

"All right, Sandra. like I said, that's a possibility, but terrorists could do the same thing with metal shavings, or even sand. The particular batch of microbes that was stolen was somewhat unique," Carlton said as they passed over Highway 100 leading east to Port Isabel and Padre Island.

"Your report didn't go into much detail about that. What makes them unique?" Miles asked.

"These microbes need no oxygen. They can be injected deep into the ground, not just used on surface spills."

"Into wells?" Miles asked.

"You got it," Carlton said slowly.

"How much oil could the single vat that was stolen dissolve?"

"All the oil in Texas," Carlton said as they approached Brownsville.

"This is becoming more interesting all the time," Miles said, then finished her coffee and screwed the cap back on the thermos.

"They'll roll the robbery and drug charge into one and I plead guilty to a misdemeanor charge of possession of drug paraphernalia?" Butler asked.

"That's the deal, George," the public defender said.

"And a deferred sentence on the misdemeanor?"

"Stay clean two years and cooperate fully with the authorities and the charge is wiped off your record."

Butler sat back and took a drag on his cigarette. "I'll take it," he said. "Now, when do I get out of here?"

"You can go in front of the judge this afternoon," the public defender said. "Right after you talk to the feds."

"I'll need a ride back home once I'm released."

"You get your own ride home, Georgie boy," the public defender said, rising. I may be a lot of things, but I ain't a taxi."

Sandra Miles tossed a fresh pack of cigarettes on the table. "Where did the first meeting take place?" she asked Butler.

"I knew Billy Tolbert from Huntsville. We met the buyer at the Texas Topps — that's a strip joint outside McAllen."

"Did the buyer say what he needed the microbes for?"

"I didn't ask," Butler said.

"Did you notice anything unusual about the buyer?"

"He was a slope," Butler noted.

"Excuse me — a what?" Miles asked.

"You know, a slope," Butler said as he took a drag from his cigarette. "An Asian."

"Do you know what country in Asia he was from?"

"I'm not sure. I was in Korea in the army and this guy didn't look Korean. I also worked for some Vietnamese shrimpers for a while. He wasn't cheap enough to be Vietnamese. He paid for a couple of table dances for Billy and me. The one thing I do remember is that the cigarettes I bummed from him tasted like shit." Butler paused and thought back. "And the pack had a weird design on the front." Miles rose. "You wait here. I'm going to call my office."

"Is it going to take long?"

"Would you rather we return you to your cell," Carlton asked menacingly, "and send for you when we're ready?"

"No, sir," Butler said. "I'll just sit right here. You know, if that's okay." Miles walked to an office in the Brownsville jail and dialed her partner at the NIA in Maryland.

"Hey, Smoot. I need you to do me a favor," she said when her partner answered. "Log onto the database and pull up a file that contains information about tobacco companies."

"You thinking of joining a class-action suit?" Smoot said, laughing.

"Hardly."

"Hold on a second," Smoot said. Two minutes passed. "Okay, I'm there. What do you need?"

"Can you find a listing of the graphics on cigarette packs?"

"I'm sure we have something," Smoot said. "It's a good way to identify suspects we're trailing."

Minutes passed as Smoot scrolled through the file listings.

"Hold on, I might have something here." The phone was silent as Smoot retrieved the file. "I got it, Sandra, but there's a couple of hundred listings."

"Pull out all the brands from Asia." Miles could hear Smoot at work on the keyboard.

"There's seventy-seven known brands, including those sold in the Philippines."

"They sure like to smoke over there," Miles noted. "Can you fax me pictures of the graphics on the packs?"

"If I reduce them to the size of a regular pack of cigarettes, I can fit six to a page. What's that make it?" Smoot quickly did the math in his head. "Should be thirteen pages, five on the last page. Give me the number you're at and stand by." Miles read off the number of the jail's fax machine. She waited as the fax phone rang, then began printing. Scanning the first page she returned to the phone. "Looks good, Smooty."

"What else can I do for you?"

"Nothing right now, but I'll call you later," Miles said. Miles walked back to the fax machine and removed the pages of cigarette-pack graphics.

"You feds are quite high-tech," Carlton noted.

"You should see our budget. It's amazing," Miles said, smiling. "I want to begin showing these to Butler. Will you bring the rest of the pages after they print out?"

"I'd be glad to," Carlton said as Miles walked back to the holding cell. Butler looked through the first pile without success.

There's more on the way," Miles said. "Let me hear the story again. You deliver the microbes to a ship in Port Isabel, and the same man who met you at the strip club then shoots Tolbert and your other partner. Is that correct?"

"That's about the size of it," Butler said.

"Do you remember the name of the ship?"

"It was a rusty old cargo ship, it might have been called Silt River, something like that. Anyway, it was two words."

"Was it flying an American flag?"

"No, that I do remember. I looked back when I was a safe distance away. I remember the smoke was increasing from the stacks as the ship prepared to pull away from the dock, but I could still see the flag off the fantail. The flag was all red with a star in the corner."

"You're sure the star was in the corner?" Miles said as Carlton opened the door.

"Yeah, pretty sure," Butler said.

Carlton handed the remaining pages to Butler, who slowly glanced at each page.

"There it is," he said, pointing to page nine. "That's the brand." Miles followed Butler's finger to a picture of a waterfall flanked by two panda bears. She swiveled the sheet around and read the caption below. Panda Giants brand. Country of manufacture was listed as the Peoples Republic of China.

"Thanks," Miles said, and she stood up.

"Make sure you tell the judge I cooperated," Butler said as Miles and Carlton walked from the interview room.

"It will be duly noted," Carlton said with contempt.