A God in Ruins - Leon Uris [111]
“About how tall was Jeremiah Duncan?”
“He was on the short side, like five eight.”
“George Appleton here, Governor. Sorry to put you through the quiz. I flew to Atlanta after we spoke to set things up myself. Who is aware of my participation?”
“Dr. Dawn Mock, chief of the CBI. She’s been involved from the beginning. And Dr. Harry Chin, our Internet specialist.”
“I’m speaking to you on a secure phone? No tapping?”
“Of course not.”
“And I’m just doing you a favor, and I don’t know what it’s about.”
“Yes, sir,” Quinn said.
“All right, here’s your man.”
“Hoop Hooper,” a voice growled.
“This is Quinn O’Connell, governor of Colorado.”
“Yeah, I know who you are.”
“Good. I’ll cut right to the chase. A semi and eighteen-wheeler left the Wisconsin Grand Army two and a half days ago carrying three thousand VEC–44’s and a lot of massacre trimmings. Destination, Denver.”
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, Governor.”
“We’ve lost the truck in the Denver environs,” Quinn plowed on, “and we may not find it here. But we sure as hell are not letting them out of the state. Roy Sedgewick was going to set up a nest egg for you with the Denver sales. Sedgewick is gone, probably en route to China. Hoop, you’ve got to know that Sedgewick was going to beat you out of a couple hundred grand either way. He fled because everyone’s hot breath was on him.”
“Well, who in the hell is Hedgehog?”
Quinn ignored the remark. “Dickie Darling is going to pocket all your hard-earned money.”
Bingo! Quinn heard Hooper wince.
“I’m on the fast track, and we’ve got time to make a bust. Where are they going to deliver the guns sold at the convention?”
“I don’t follow you.”
“You have a forty-year sentence that has been reduced to twenty by your guilty plea. Give me the information, and I’ll do everything in my power to reduce your sentence to ten or twelve. That means, with good behavior you could be out in six.”
“You should be speaking to my lawyers, Mr. Governor.”
“No way. I’d have to expose the operation and my associates, and there’s not time to argue with attorneys. It is you and me, Hooper, you and me, us.”
Hooper ran over the governor’s figures. It meant going in with a forty-year sentence, coming out with six. I have to take his word that Sedgewick has fled, and he sure has his facts right on the VEC’s. “How do I know you’ll deliver?” Hooper asked.
“You don’t. You’re going to have to trust me.”
“I ain’t never trusted nobody and never will.”
“Well, today is a real fine day to start.”
Hooper huffed, grunted, and snarled. The tattoos reading MOTHER COUNTRY GOD on his left arm pulsated. He looked over at George Appleton, who was fixed on him with hatred. Hoop knew hatred when he saw it. Sure did. He knew if he rejected the governor, prison life was going to be brutal.
“Give me some time to think about it,” Hooper said.
“Sure, you’ve got thirty seconds and I hang up.”
“Hold on, Governor. The gun run from Wisconsin to the Denver convention was planned seven months ago, when we were unable to sell them. I’ve been in prison for five months. They sure as hell must have changed the delivery location.”
“What was the former location?” Quinn snapped back.
“Friehoff’s Furniture Outlet, somewhere out on West Coster. Can you get me a single cell?”
“Maybe. Tell me about the truck and the drivers.”
“They’re crazy, man. Three brothers and a cousin named Jensen. They’ve been running contraband out of the Great Lakes ports for years. On this run their pay will be on delivery.”
“What are they advertising on the side of their truck, and tell me about their plates.”
“Governor, I don’t know. They’re probably driving a hot rig they stole recently. On a few runs I know they put up Old Milwaukee beer sheets with magnets. I don’t know.”
“All right, give me a solid gold name of an exhibitor at the convention who is dealing in the VEC’s.”
Jesus! Hooper had already exposed the Jensen brothers, and he’d exposed himself. Chuck it in and pray, he told himself.
“I want to get moved to another facility,” Hooper whispered hoarsely.