Deadly Distractions, page 9
The general laughed. "So, let me explain why you were dragged from your hotel and detained."
"Yes, I wish you would."
"Yesterday you went to the United Peoples Bank of Ecuador and met with Senor Lantz. He reported his conversation to the police as you had mentioned Senor Weller who was in custody for bank robbery and conspiracy. They placed surveillance devices in your room and on your telephone hoping to get evidence that you were co-conspirators with Senor Weller."
"We’re not. We are just trying to find him and help him out if he’s in trouble."
"I understand, but you seemed interested in where the money was wired. It seemed the money was your primary concern."
"No, it wasn’t. At the time we met with Senor Lantz, we didn’t know Tex was in jail. Your surveillance tapes ought to substantiate that."
"They are not my tapes, Senor Turner. They belong to the police. I am not responsible for your detention. I have called in a favor from a friend who works at the jail to arrange this confidential visit."
"Really? Why?"
"Because I want to help you escape."
"Why would you do that?"
"Like I told you. You’re a friend and I believe in helping my friends if I can. . . . If I help you escape, do you think you will be able to save Senor Thomas?"
"I don’t know, it’s a very difficult case, but I’m certainly going to do all I can."
"You are very modest. I have heard of your reputation. I have no doubt that you will be successful."
"Thank you, but—"
"In a few days the guards will come before dawn to see your bodyguard, Senor Dozier. They will carelessly let him escape. I trust he will then come and free you as well. You will have five minutes to come to this room. There is a passageway out of the prison. I will show it to you before you leave."
General Moya’s intention to help us escape was so shocking and unexpected that I felt uneasy. Was I missing something? Did he really care about Dusty Thomas? Did he really believe there was any chance the CDA could be successful in overthrowing the United States government? The more I thought about it the more unlikely it all seemed, yet the opportunity to escape couldn’t be ignored. I had no choice but to go along with it.
"What do we do after we escape?"
"You should go directly to the airport and fly back to America. There is a flight to Miami every morning at eight. I will be sure your escape is unnoticed until after your plane has left."
"What about Tex Weller?" I said fearing what his answer would be.
"I’m afraid I cannot do anything for Mr. Weller. He will be tried and most certainly sent to prison. Few men survive long in our prisons."
My heart sank. The thought of Tex rotting in a Quito prison made me sick. The idea that he might die there sent shivers down my spine. How could I ever face Toni if I let that happen?
"Listen, I can’t believe Tex would intentionally steal money. I’ve known him for years and he’s an honest and decent man. There must be some explanation for what has happened."
General Moya raised his eyebrows. "Perhaps, but there isn’t anything I can do," he said, " unless—"
"Unless what?"
"Unless you can manage to wire me the 1.8 million dollars that Senor Weller has stolen."
My heart leaped for joy and I almost laughed. Now everything made sense. He was the general waiting to seize the unclaimed money. Trying to keep a poker face, I said, "Where am I supposed to get that kind of money?"
"Don’t think I’m a fool, Senor Turner. The money was wired from Senor Weller’s account in Georgetown, Cayman Islands to you in Dallas."
I didn’t know where he had gotten that information, but I could hardly dispute it.
"Right. Tex didn’t tell me where he got it. I was a lot more money than I expected."
"Yes, he was only authorized to keep a third, but he got greedy and now he’ll get nothing."
"Okay. I’ll wire all of the money just as soon as I get back to Dallas."
"Good. When the money is in my account, I will see to it that Senor Weller escapes and makes it home to Dallas."
The general wasn't a good liar. I knew he wouldn't release Tex after he got the money. My mind whirled trying to come up with a way to be sure Tex would get home safely.
"No, I’ll wire half the money. When Tex steps off the plane in Dallas, I’ll wire the other half."
The General shook his head disapprovingly. "No! You’ll send it all or Mr. Weller will rot in prison."
"If I send you all the money, you’ll just kill him as soon as you get it. After all, he betrayed you and your supporters would demand that you kill him. I must insist on doing it my way."
The General stroked his beard while he considered my terms. "You are in no position to be bargaining, Senor Turner."
I shrugged. The general stared at me intently for a moment and then said reluctantly, "I am told you are a man of your word. Very well, we’ll do it your way, but do not dare to double cross me. If you do, I promise you that I will send an assassin to punish you and Senor Weller for your betrayal."
I swallowed hard and said, "Right."
The guards took me back to my cell and several days went by without any further contact. The temperature in the room must have been more than 100 degrees and I got very thirsty. Each day a guard brought me a cup of water, some bread, a bowl of beans, and occasionally some rice. It was not enough to quench my thirst or keep the hunger pains away.
After a couple days I was becoming weak and lethargic and slept most of the time. I wondered when we’d be allowed to escape. Then it occurred to me that the whole episode with General Moya might have been a charade. What if he wasn’t a general but just a detective trying to trick me into admitting my complicity in Tex’s crime. If that were true, I had been a pushover, admitting that I had the money.
I worried about Rebekah and the kids—what they must be going through. They wouldn’t be taking this well. The FBI would be involved by now. I worried about them snooping around my affairs. They were likely to find out about Tex and try to tie me into his illegal enterprise. I didn’t regret trying to help him. He was a friend and I couldn’t have just ignored his plight. It was now in God's hand. There was nothing I could do now but wait and see what He had in store for me. A sense of tranquility came over me and I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes.
11
NOSY NEIGHBORS
On Thursday, July 31 we were all seated in the big conference room that we used for depositions. Ronald Logan, the FBI agent in charge of the Dusty Thomas case, sat next to Agent Maureen Cox, his assistant. Rebekah and her mother and father sat across from them. I was at the head of the table and Jodie was serving coffee. We had gathered to discuss Stan's disappearance and find out what the FBI was doing about it. It had been nearly a week since Stan and Monty Dozier had been heard from. The press didn’t know that they were missing yet. Everyone had agreed to keep it quiet in hopes that they would turn up. The FBI had set up taps on Rebekah’s phones at home and they’d wired everything in the office just in case it was a kidnapping and a ransom call came in. Rebekah’s parents were staying with her and the kids to keep her company and provide emotional support. She hadn’t taken the kidnapping well.
"Anyone else need anything?" Jodie asked.
Logan shook his head and said, "I think that will do it. Thank you, Jodie. Okay, I know you are all anxious to hear the latest news. We’ve been in contact with the U.S. Ambassador to Ecuador, Travis Bolivar. His investigators still haven’t been able to identify the persons who abducted Stan and Monty. Whoever they were pretended to be local police and staged a bogus arrest. No one interfered because they believed it was a legitimate police operation."
"Has this ever happened before?" I asked.
"Yes, apparently so. There is a rebel group down there that uses this technique to kidnap foreign nationals and hold them for ransom. This is what we believed happened."
"But why hasn’t there been a ransom demand?" Rebekah asked.
"Well, that’s a good question," Agent Logan said. "It could be that the people who kidnapped Stan didn’t realize he was such a high profile individual. They may be assessing how much money to demand. The fact that the press hasn’t got wind of the kidnapping has made it harder for them to get the data they need."
"So, this isn’t a bunch of thugs who did the kidnapping?" Paula asked.
"No, this is a highly trained, well organized rebel organization that gets a substantial amount of its revenue from kidnapping foreigners and holding them for ransom. We’re dealing with professionals here who know what they are doing."
"Can’t the elected government help us at all?" Paula asked.
"If they could, they would. But these rebel parties have been operating with impunity in Ecuador for decades. I’m afraid there isn’t much we can do but wait and see what they demand."
"I can’t believe there isn’t anything that can be done," Rebekah moaned. "Can’t we hire some private investigators to look for them?"
Logan shook his head. "That would be throwing money away. The national government and the local police have assured me they are doing everything in their power to find Stan and Monty. There’s nothing a private investigator could do that isn’t already being done. I’m afraid we’ll just have to wait."
"What about the press?" I asked. "How much longer can you keep it under wraps?"
"Not much longer," Agent Logan said. "I think we should have a joint press conference in a day or two and advise the public of what’s happened. Hopefully the kidnappers will have contacted us by then."
"Well, thank you Agent Logan for the briefing. If there is anything else we can do to help, let us know. In the meantime we’ll just wait for the kidnappers to call."
Everyone stood up and prepared to leave. Rebekah gave me a hug and thanked me for keeping the firm going while Stan was gone. I assured her everything would go on as usual and I promised I’d send her Stan’s check each payday so she didn’t have to worry about money. After Rebekah and her parents were gone, Agent Logan indicated he wanted to have a private chat with me. We met in my office.
"So, what are you going to do about the Dusty Thomas case now that Stan isn’t around to help?" Agent Logan asked.
"I’m handling it until Stan returns. It’s not a problem."
"Well, how does your client feel about that? Have you told him?"
"No, I haven’t. I think it’s a little premature."
"Well, I suggest you tell him before the press conference. Better for him to hear it from you than read about it in the newspaper."
I nodded. "You’re right. I’ll go see him today."
"And Paula, you might want to think about the possibility that Stan won’t be returning. We haven’t had a lot of luck rescuing Americans kidnapped in South America. Odds are Stan’s gonna die."
Agent Logan’s words sent a chill through me. It wasn’t just the idea that Stan might die that bothered me. It was Logan’s tone of voice. He almost seemed to be enjoying this turn of events. I stood up and said, "Don’t bet on it. Stan’s a survivor and I have no doubt he’ll be back here soon."
Logan stood up, smiled, and said, "I admire your optimism, but if I were you I’d start looking for a new co-counsel. You’re gonna need him."
I glared at Logan, too angry to respond. What a son of a bitch. "Are we done?" I finally said.
"Yes, I guess we are. I’ll be in touch."
When Logan was gone, I started to think about what he had said. I did need to go see Dusty Thomas and tell him about Stan’s disappearance, but I was scared. What if he decided to fire me and find new counsel? After all, he had hired Stan, not me. But I couldn’t let that happen. This was my dream case and I couldn’t let anyone take it away from me.
It was quarter to four when I got out to the Double T Ranch. I had phoned ahead to make sure Dusty and Martha were home. As I was pulling up to the entrance of the ranch, I saw that Dusty’s neighbors were sitting out on the front porch. Since I wasn’t due at Dusty’s until four, I decided to stop and talk to them. I pulled up in their driveway and quickly checked my notes as I couldn’t remember their names. Flipping through the pages, all I could find was "Emma Lou." I got out and walked up to the porch.
"Good afternoon," I said.
"Howdy," the lady said.
"You must be Emma Lou?"
"Yes, and who might you be?"
"I’m Paula Waters with Turner and Waters. I’m one of the attorneys for Dusty Thomas."
"Oh, well it’s mighty nice to meet you," Emma Lou said. She pointed to the man that was with her and said, "This is my husband Ned."
I extended my hand and said, "It’s a pleasure to meet you." We shook hands and Ned invited me to sit down on a bench across from them. They both appeared to be in their late sixties. I guessed they were retired. Ned was tall, grey-haired, and wore blue jeans and a brown and white plaid shirt. Emma Lou was much shorter and wore a blue and white sheath dress. They both had a tall glass of lemonade. They offered me a glass but I declined.
"I just have a few minutes, but I wanted to ask you if you were home on the day of Agent Tuttle’s murder?"
Emma Lou replied, "Sure, we were home but we didn’t see much until the police came."
"Well, if you saw anything at all I’d be interested in hearing about it."
Ned spoke up. "I saw Dusty come home from cutting out there on the county road. He waved when he went by."
"Did you see anyone else?"
"I saw Bobby Tuttle come by about twenty minutes after Dusty came home. I knew he was after Dusty’s tractor so I called Dusty to warn him."
"You called him?"
"Yes, but he didn’t pick up the phone. I left a message, but I don’t know if he got it."
"So, what did you do after that?"
"I was about to get in the truck and run up to the house when I heard a gunshot."
"Could you tell where it came from?"
"Not exactly. It was from the general direction of Dusty’s house."
"What did you do after you heard the gunshot?" I asked.
"Well, gunshots out here in the country are not all that unusual so I didn’t think a whole lot about it until I heard the second one."
"Really. How long was it between shots?"
"Ah, maybe five minutes or so."
"Hmm. So, then what did you do?"
"I got in my truck and was getting ready to head on up to the house when the wrecker showed up and turned onto the road to Dusty’s house. I started to follow him and nearly collided with a silver Mercedes that was speeding down the road. I ended up in the ditch next to the road."
"Did you see where the Mercedes came from?"
"It was coming from the east at about 75, I guess."
"Did you recognize the driver?"
"No, I didn’t get a good look at him. It wasn’t a car from around here. I’d never seen it before."
"The driver was a male?"
"Not necessarily. Like I said, I didn’t get much of a look at him—or her.’
"So, then what happened?"
"I was about three or four minutes behind the wrecker. When I got there, the wrecker driver was hunched over the body checking to see if he had a pulse, I guess. When I got out of my truck I asked him what had happened and he said Dusty had shot agent Tuttle. Then he called his dispatcher and told them to call the sheriff."
"Did you see Dusty?"
"No."
"Did you see anybody else?"
"No. I just turned around and went home. I didn’t figure it was any of my business. I’d just let the police handle it."
"What about you Mrs. . . . Mrs. . . . I guess I didn’t get your last names."
"Marshall," Emma Lou said.
"Right. Mrs. Marshall, did you see anything that maybe your husband didn’t see?"
"The Mercedes had some minor damage on the driver's side. The side mirror was smashed too. The driver must've got too close to something."
"Are there any roads into the Double T Ranch other than the main road?"
"There’s a road around the perimeter of the ranch, along the property line," Ned advised.
"Could the Mercedes have come from that road?"
"It’s possible but I didn’t see it come from there."
"Anything else you remember?" I asked.
They both shook their heads. I thanked them and headed up the road to the house. Dusty was out on the front porch and when he saw me he came out to meet me. We went into the house where Martha had made coffee. She poured me a cup and then sat down.
