Clear and present danger - Tom Clancy [51]
"Right." Which was the other reason Murray was involved in the case. "How important was the victim?"
"Big-time political connections, directorships of banks, the University of Alabama, the usual collection of civic groups - you name it. This guy wasn't just a solid member of the community, he was goddamned Stone Mountain." Both men knew that was in Georgia, but the point was made. "Old family, back to a Civil War general. His grandfather was a governor."
"Money?"
Bright grunted. "More than I'd ever need. Big place north of town, still a working farm-plantation, I guess you'd call it, but that's not where it comes from. He put all the family money into real-estate development. Very successfully as far as we can tell. The development stuff is a maze of small corporations - the usual stuff. We've got a team working, but it'll take awhile to sort through it. Some of the corporate veils are overseas, though, and we may never get it all. You know how that goes. We've barely begun to check things out."
" 'Prominent local businessman tied to drug kingpins.' Christ, he hid things real well. Never had a sniff?"
"Nary a one," Bright admitted. "Not us, not DEA, not the local cops. Nothing at all."
Murray closed the file and nodded at the traffic. This was only the opening crack in a case that could develop into man-years of investigative work. Hell, we don't even know exactly what we're looking for yet, the deputy assistant director told himself. All we do know is that there was a cold million dollars in used twenties and fifties aboard the good ship Empire Builder. So much cash could only mean one thing - but that wasn't true. It could mean lots of things, Murray thought,
"Here we are."
Getting onto the base was easy enough, and Bright knew the way to the pier. Panache looked pretty big from the car, a towering white cliff with a bright-orange stripe and some dark smudgemarks near midships. Murray knew that she was a small ship, but one needed a big ocean to tell. By the time he and Bright got out of the car, someone got on the phone at the head of the gangway, and another man appeared there within seconds. Murray recognized him from the file. It was Wegener.
The man had the muddy remains of what had once been red hair, but was now sprinkled with enough gray to defy an accurate description. He looked fit enough, the FBI agent thought as he came up the aluminum brow, a slight roll at the waist, but little else. A tattoo on his forearm marked him for a sailorman, and the impassive eyes marked the face of a man unaccustomed to questioning of any kind.
"Welcome aboard. I'm Red Wegener," the man said with enough of a smile to be polite.
"Thank you, Captain. I'm Dan Murray and this is Mark Bright."
"They told me you were FBI," the captain observed.
"I'm a deputy assistant director, down from Washington. Mark's the assistant special-agent-in-charge of the Mobile Office." Wegener's face changed a bit, Murray saw.
"Well, I know why you're here. Let's go to my cabin to discuss things."
"What's with all the scorching?" Dan asked as the captain led off. There was something about the way he'd said that. Something… odd.
"Shrimp boat had an engine fire. Happened five miles away from us last night while we were on the way in. The fuel tanks blew just as we came alongside. Got lucky. Nobody killed, but the mate was burned some."
"How about the boat?" Bright asked.
"Couldn't save her. Getting the crew off was pretty tricky." Wegener held open the door for his visitors. "Sometimes that's the best you can do. You gentlemen want any coffee?"
Murray declined. His eyes really bored in on the captain now. More than anything else, Dan thought, he looked embarrassed. Wrong emotion. Wegener got his guests seated, then took his chair behind the desk.
"I know why you're here," Red announced. "It's all my fault."
"Uh, Captain, before you go any further -" Bright tried to say.
"I've pulled some dumb ones in my time, but this time I really fucked up,"