Magic Moment (31 page)

Chase had a vision of a limp, bound Laura being tossed over
Madre’s
side. He choked back the nausea clotting in his throat.

“Oliver, explain to Chase why Laura needs to be dealt with in such an extreme manner,” Dick said. “My son and I are often not on the same page.”

Daniels grumbled, followed by a loud groan as he sat up on the sofa. He stretched his legs out before him and finished his drink before speaking.

“See, Chase, your daddy, me and a couple of buddies are as tight as can be. We’d do anything for each other. When we were kids, we cut our third fingers and pressed them together. Saw it in some movie.” Daniels looked at Dick, perplexed. “You remember the name of that movie?”

“No,” Dick replied.

The man shrugged. “It’ll come to me.”

Dick approached, and Daniels held out his glass. The elder Donovan filled it to the brim. Dick returned the near-empty bottle to the desk, then perched himself on the edge.

Daniels hiccupped. “See, we’re so tight, I don’t have to tell your daddy I want a refill. He knows.”

With the man seated in an upright position, Chase got a good look. Daniels’ pudgy nose was apple red. His small brown eyes were glazed. Sweat poured from his forehead.

Oliver Daniels was drunk.

“Oliver, you’re supposed to convince Chase to see our situation,” Dick said. “I told you. You can trust my son.”

Chase noted his father was stone, cold sober. The entire whiskey bottle had practically been consumed, a smidgen remained. The glasses were juice size and not shot glasses, as Dick generally used. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to conclude who had consumed the most liquor.

“Any son of yours, Dick, is a son of mine,” Daniels said firmly and gulped from his glass.

A revolting thought, Chase mused.

“Chase, we got this nice, little business going,” Daniels began, his voice intact despite his inebriation. “We can’t gamble with your wife screwing it up.”

Chase, prepared to say he intended to divorce and send Laura away, opened his mouth. Before the words came out, Dick glared at him. He shook his head, silencing his son.

Chase snapped his lips tight. The scene was totally weird.

“It goes like this, Chase. Chuck Hunter gets the drugs. Your father accepts the drugs. I distribute the drugs. Alan Blair saves our asses if need be.” Daniels took another swig. “Old friends are the best friends,” he concluded, raising his glass and draining it.

Dick offered another refill. Daniels’ glass was filled. The bottle was empty.

“You’re not giving Chase the whole picture, Oliver.” Dick moved around behind the desk, not taking his seat, but remaining standing. “If you want to convince Chase why Laura needs to be eliminated, connect the dots.”

Daniels let out a frustrated sigh, then a belch. “A bunch of years ago, me and Chuck started this operation with his buddy in South America — Argentina, Columbia, Bolivia, Venezuela — one of those places. Guy runs some fancy vacation resort. When I think of South America, I see a jungle,” he pondered aloud. “Who the hell goes to the jungle for vacation?” Guzzling his drink, Daniels turned to Dick. “What the hell is that guy’s name?”

“Whose name?” Dick asked.

Daniels smirked. “Chuck’s friend. Black haired guy.”

Dick shook his head. Chase looked at his father. The older man knew exactly of whom Oliver Daniels spoke, but wanted Daniels to offer the name.

Daniels thought for a minute. “Balls, it’ll come to me.”

Chase made mental notes, sure Saunders and Morgan were getting an earful.

Daniels continued. “We had a good thing. Send a guy down with the money, he’d get a little R&R, and we’d get our drugs.”

“Tell Chase about the drugs,” Dick suggested.

“Cocaine. People love snorting that shit. Gives me a nosebleed. The money, shit, it’s unbelievable.” Daniels nodded his head as if he was a wise old lecturing scholar, and raised his glass to Chase before gulping.

“Everything was good,” Daniels said. “Everybody did their jobs and got their piece. Couriers, airport folks, and we had Alan. Who better to have as your best buddy than a hotshot judge who knew the ins and outs? If anybody got caught, he’d find a way to fix it. Just like he did for Chuck.”

“Help Chase understand that,” Dick said.

An anxious, suspicious feeling crawled through Chase.

Daniels swallowed more from his glass. “When the dicks were watching Chuck some years back, the warrant read
search a black sedan.
” Daniels laughed, a gurgling sound. “But Chuck’s car was like a navy, some kind of shitty dark blue, and Alan got the warrant tossed.”

How convenient.
Chase couldn’t help but purse his lips. It wasn’t as if the arresting law was talking yellow from green. A respectable, more efficient, ethical judge possessed the brains and morals to work around the mechanical error. He wondered if there had been others Alan Blair had immorally and illegally accommodated over the years.

Daniels rambled on about automobiles, sizes and colors. Chase hadn’t a clue as to the gist but concentrated on the man. Daniels followed up with a monologue on gasoline prices.

Dick let out a low sigh. “Oliver, how did we start receiving the merchandise through my warehouse?” Daniels, either from whiskey or plain lack of focus, needed Dick to put him back on course.

“Nine-eleven,” Daniels answered incredibly. “Security’s tighter. Our airport guys got scared and pulled out. So, we had Chuck’s friend — ” He stopped speaking. “Louie. Louie Reynaldi!” He was proud at recalling the name.

“What about Louie?” Dick asked, calm and in control.

Chase eyed his father. His peculiar feeling grew more intense. Dick was giving his son the exact information needed. When Daniels started speaking again, Chase returned his attention to the man.

“We had Louie go in the fruit business. Lemons, apples, the shit depends on the season. He got an office and alleluia, we’re still in business!” he shouted as if having a religious experience. He laughed again. “LR, Inc. is the company name.”

Chase froze. He had noticed those crates in the warehouse. They had looked like any other crates from any other supplier. No one ever would have suspected there had been cocaine in those crates.

Daniels continued. “The fruit business turned out to be a nice side job for Louie. The drugs get packed so good, all you see and smell are the ballsy lemons. The drugs come here, get loaded on my truck, and I do business out of my front seat in all my parking lots.”

“Tell Chase who your customers are, the ones who purchase from the front of the truck, so that he can see what an elite clientele we have,” Dick said.

Numbness inched through Chase as Daniels rattled off his drug customers. He wasn’t hearing a word. Saunders was getting it all. Chase was stunned by his own suspicions. Dick had filled Daniels with whiskey and wheedled the man into talking.

Chase’s federal associates had everything they needed to start rounding up suspects. Dick Donovan had turned out to be Special Agent Saunders’ mole.

Turning directly to his father, as if they were the only two men in the room, Chase stared at him, unsure of the older man’s actions or the reason behind them.

“Dad?”

“You deserve to be happy, Chase,” Dick said softly. “With your wife and child. I wasn’t the best husband or father. You can be both.”

Chase stuck to the script. “I’m divorcing Laura after the baby’s born.”

“Chase, didn’t you hear? There’ll be no divorce,” Daniels said and belched again. “That wife of yours saw us. She knows where my stuff comes from. Once the baby’s born, she’s a goner. Besides, you and her aren’t getting along, your father tells me. Why do you care what happens to her?” He drawled a speech on the ramifications should Laura recall LR, Inc. invoices, or blab about seeing Alan Blair and Chuck Hunter together.

“No harm will come to Laura Donovan,” Dick said adamantly. “She’s my daughter-in-law, my son’s wife, my grandson’s mother.”

“Yo, wait a minute. Hold everything, Dick.” Daniels labored and staggered until finally he handled standing. “You told me if I explained everything to Chase, he’d understand. Maybe even want in on the deal. Of which, I promised to get the others to agree,” he offered proudly. “Don’t forget, we’re talking another partner.” He banged his empty glass on the desk. “Splitting the profits an extra way.”

“My son wants nothing to do with illegal drug trafficking. He loves his wife and will do whatever he has to do to protect her.” Dick faced Chase, his demeanor inflexible. “Whatever you have to do,” he repeated to his son.

Chase was paralyzed, making an attempt but failing to slide off the chair. His father knew. He knew what had brought his son back to Philadelphia. He knew full well Chase’s agenda, and who had set it.

“No, no, no!” Daniels shouted. “Chase is one of us, and that bitch is dead once the kid pops out.”

Chase put his untouched glass down on the desk and managed to stand on his own shaky legs. “We should leave now, Dad,” he said, somehow finding the words and a level smile. “Can’t be late for our dinner reservations.”

Dick voice was low, partly sorrowful. “We’re not having dinner tonight, son. There are some law men waiting for me. Perhaps you and I will have dinner some other time.”

Father and son simply stared at each other, and the lump in Chase’s throat nearly suffocated him. “Dad … ”

“I’d rather you leave before those men arrive,” Dick said.

Chase shuddered. His first phone call would be to Ned. In exchange for the details Saunders had gotten, there had to be a deal for Chase’s father.

“What men?” Daniels interrupted, not comprehending the true meaning of his invitation to a simple, cordial drink. “We’re going out to dinner? Dick, you didn’t say anything about a dinner party.”

Dick spoke to Chase as if no one else listened.

“Give me a little credit, Chase, for being skeptical in the
Cockeyed BumbleBee
. You and your wife are very much in love,” Dick said. He spoke with what Chase thought was fondness.

“
Cockeyed BumbleBee
,” Oliver interjected, his facial features askew. “They serve dinner? Since when? It was always drinks and munchies.”

“I saw how much you and Laura mean to each other that day in Sea Tower.” Dick gazed at Chase as if his son was the only person in the world worth any attention. “When you carried her from the car. You kissed her. She put her head on your shoulder. The way your eyes followed her into the kitchen. You have your mother’s eyes, Chase. They tell the world everything. One look into them, and I saw your feelings for Laura right down to your soul. You love her.”

“Dad, I — ” Chase had no idea what words to utter.

Dick’s lips parted in a smile. “It’s time for me to be the father you deserve.”

Again, Oliver interrupted, focusing on Dick. “Who’s in love? Dick, you said you got him to see things our way.”

Dick continued to disregard the other man. “Chase, leave,” he said, his tone pleading. “Now.”

By now, Chase sensed Saunders was opening the gate. He would respect his father’s pride and leave before the agent arrived to arrest the two older men.

Daniels, having turned fully lucid, pursed his lips. He didn’t like being kept out of the conversation. “Someone tell me what the hell is going on!” He took a step toward Chase. “Your father told me you were looking to get rid of your wife. Any way you could. That she had gone through your money. You were damn broke, and you wanted out after she had the kid.”

He snapped at Dick. “Who’s in love? What the hell you trying to pull?” The reddened veins in Daniels’ neck popped. “Your son knows everything. He’s not just walking.”

Dick stood tall. His cloudy eyes focused on his son.

Chase, ignoring Daniels, met his father’s stare. After an exchange of glances, Chase turned toward the door. His heart was breaking.

“Hey, you wait a minute, you little prick!” Daniels grabbed Chase’s forearm and spun him around. The older man’s features warped in rage.

Chase swirled with a force that knocked the transmitter from its clip and to the floor. The three men stared at the device lying on the dark brown tiles. Chase’s blood iced over in his veins. Gathering his wits, he jerked from Daniels’ grip and hunkered down. As Chase’s hand reached for the transmitter, Daniels stepped on it, smashing the device into tiny pieces.

Fear gripped Chase, but he managed a deep breath. He eased himself upright and looked Daniels squarely in the face. “Why did you smash my cell phone?”

“Cell phone.” Daniels snickered, taking a few steps back. He put some distance between the three of them, but was smack in the middle of both Donovans. “That’s no cell phone, sonny. I got a buddy doing time in the federal pen. An undercover cop, named Morgan, got some bimbo he was banging to get the goods on my buddy by wearing a wire that resembled a cell phone.”

“You’re crazy,” Chase said evenly. “You telling me I’d incriminate my own father?”

Daniels eyed Chase shadily. “I don’t know. Why’s a young, strapping stud like you want to saddle yourself with a kid? I knocked up plenty of bitches over the years. They got a few bucks and the name of someone who’d get rid of it. If they refused, I’d beat the damn brat out of them.”

Chase glared at Daniels. The man sickened him. “You’re crazy,” he repeated and turned toward the door.

When the shot rang out, Chase instinctively reached for his own gun. He flashed the weapon in front of him. His immediate glance was to his father. Dick stood, solid behind his desk, a silver polished pistol clasped in his hand, still pointed forward. Chase followed his father’s gaze.

Oliver Daniels lay sprawled on his back, each arm outstretched wide alongside of him. Bright crimson blood flowed from the back of his head. Daniels’ small-set eyes were open, magnifying themselves ten times over as they fixed on the ceiling, gaping at nothing. His right hand held a small caliber revolver, index finger still grazing the trigger.

Chase recognized death when he saw it, but he crouched down and lightly touched the man’s neck.

The door flung open and men leaped into the room. Chase jumped up, noticing only Saunders among the crew. Wearing a blue jacket and cap, yellow FBI printed boldly on the front, the agent had his service weapon positioned securely in front of him.