A God in Ruins - Leon Uris [107]
“Yep,” Quinn agreed.
“They’re going to shag ass for the Utah line, maybe Four Corners. That’s where the big dealers play.”
“Why all this brouhaha about the dump site? We can’t foul up on the destination. The little bouncing ball on the screen will lead us right into it. As for our forces, Reb, your people will be tucked into Elway Stadium within spitting distance of the convention center. Yancey, split your force into a triangle, use high-speed vehicles, and converge once we have the exact location.”
“And where would that be?” Yancey said.
“My primitive guess,” Quinn answered, “way out on West Colfax near the foothills. The strip is loaded with warehouses and factory outlets. Colfax will put them right on the interstate for Utah.”
“Governor,” Yancey moaned a bit, “I realize you want these people caught in the act, but we’re going to have better luck by nailing them right inside the Colorado line.”
“We know there is one or more relief drivers, but we do not know how many of them are in the trailer riding shotgun,” Quinn answered. “As soon as we slow them down, anywhere, anytime, anyplace they may go for their weapons.”
“What!” Reb said. “Crash a roadblock and drive the length of Colorado? Not rational.”
“Gunrunning isn’t rational,” Yancey said.
“Are you in contact with Arne Skye?” Quinn asked.
“Afraid not, Governor,” Dawn said. “He set up the GPS here and signed off. He’s taken himself out of the loop.”
“Rightfully,” Quinn answered. “We’re not to reveal his name on pain of death.” The governor held up both hands to create some thinking space.
“A roadblock is not what we want. If so, we could have seized them in Wisconsin or Iowa or Nebraska. A roadblock crashing and a high-speed chase will create a real mess.”
The heads of the troopers and the National Guard were a bit peeved, as was Dawn Mock. Harry Chin played it neutral. The other three perspired, and their fingernails fidgeted on the desktop.
“Denver is filled with late-night shopping traffic and tourists and conventioneers and forty thousand baseball fans all in the vicinity of the convention center. Governor, it could end up looking like the beach at Normandy if the bouncing ball ends up there.”
“If you are wrong, Governor, and believe me, they could have faked us out of our jock straps, we are in major shit,” Yancey warned.
“Yancey, put a video and still photographer at the state line. Let’s see if we can make a double confirmation by getting some plate numbers and what advertising they’re carrying on their sides.”
“We’re close, but no cigar,” Dawn said. “Suppose we rip into a warehouse filled with recliner chairs and Serta perfect mattresses?”
“Dr. Chin, do you have anything on Roy Sedgewick, Ark Royal Arms?”
“I’ve got two detectives at the airport covering passport control,” Chin said. “The Canadian government is breathing down Sedgewick’s neck. My information is that they are going to commence an audit at Ark Royal within a week. This could be the moment for him to flee, and he may need the money to be generated in Denver.”
“No.” Quinn mulled it over. “There aren’t many flights from Toronto to Denver. He’d use Chicago as his port of entry—there’s no passport control there—or he’s on his way to South America. No way Sedgewick will show up.”
“We’d better have some shithouse luck,” the adjutant general moaned.
“Amen,” Yancey said.
Quinn rolled his head about and cracked the bones of his spine and neck. “I love you guys. Dawn, do you have a place where I can crash for a few hours?”
“There’s a big couch in the hall outside the morgue. Hart’s people will report if they have anything new. I’ll be at the monitor here through the night.”
“Okay, you guys, you know the drill,” Quinn said.
“You’ve got more guts than brains,” Reb said, giving the governor a warm abrazo.
“Ditto,” Yancey Hawke said.
Dawn Mock slipped