The Bannerman Solution (The Bannerman Series) (39 page)

The dreams stayed with Lesko throughout breakfast
and through two more attempts to reach Buzz Dono
van. No answer.

F
u
nny how he was getting used to Katz. The conver
sations they were having weren't all that different from
the way they talked to each other when Katz was alive.
He could have done without dreaming of Elena,
though. Twice in a row now. Bad enough she pops into
his head nearly every damned day. And he could also do
without his head inventing new Paul Bannermans ev
ery night. Maybe he should sneak out to the airport and
watch them check in. At least he'd know what the real
Paul looked like.

Where the hell is Donovan?

A couple of meetings this morning and then a free
afternoon. You know what he might do? Maybe he'd go
back to Queens and borrow Mr. Makowski's car and
take a
ride up to Westport. No particular reason. Just to
look around. See if he notices many people leaping out
of windows or running in front of trucks.

Irwin Pollard, having made a substantial fortune as
an investment banker, contributed generously to the
first-term election campaign of President Ronald Rea
gan. He let it be known that he would appreciate being
named ambassador to the Court of St. James or any
other comparable post that did not involve dealing with
Orientals or Arabs. He was offered Bolivia, but declined,
giving the excuse that he did not speak Portuguese.

It
was Palmer Reid who persuaded him to change his
mind by pointing out how that position could make him
considerably richer and that the languages of Bolivia
were, in any case, Spanish and Quechua. Further, the
currency of Bolivia was not the peso but the coca leaf.
Many a great and worthwhile cause, could be funded
with that money, particularly if a man of vision, a man
who was not a lackey of the State Department or the Congress, happened to take that post.

Pollard, who was now on station in La Paz, was a
man who knew the value of a dollar. As a further incen
tive to take the job, Reid offered to pay off the mortgage
on Pollard's Scarsdale home and, until Pollard was re
called, pay him a substantial rent in return for the right to sequester people there on occasion. Reid also threw
in a state-of-the-art security system, behind which Buzz
Donovan, impressed and unshaven, had just spent a very angry and sleepless night.

“I know you're upset.” Palmer Reid entered the Pol
lard living room, hands raised, palms forward, where
Buzz Donovan sat on a sofa watched over by Frank
Burdick and an ape of a man named Gorby. “You have
every right. It's perfectly understandable.”

“Don't dare patronize me, you son of
a
bitch.*' Dono
van glared at him.

Reid made a show of stopping in his tracks, an ex
pression of confusion on his face. He blinked at Burdick
and Gorby, then back at Donovan. “My God,” he
hushed, “No one's explained to you. Is it possible no one
had told you why you're here?”

“Oh, stop it, Palmer.” Donovan said disgustedly.

Reid pretended not to notice the cynicism. He
looked at Burdick. “Did I or did I not give specific in
structions that Mr. Donovan was to be told why he was
brought to the safety of this house?”

“We may have erred on the side of caution, sir.” Burdick knew his lines.

“No wonder the man is outraged,” he snapped. “Get
out of my sight.”

“Sir,
if
I could just apologize. . . .”

“Get out. Now.”

Burdick and Gorby left the room. Reid sighed
deeply and shook his head. Now wringing his hands, he
took a seat facing Donovan. “Before I begin,” he said, “I
must remind you that you are still bound by oath to
uphold and defend. . . .”

“Spare me, Palmer. Get on with it.”

Reid paused again as if choosing his words. Then he
made a damn-the-torpedoes gesture signifying, he hoped, that he had decided to withhold nothing. ”A
project is now under way,” he said quietly, “whose ob
jective is nothing less than the destruction of all South
American drug traffic within two years. What is particu
larly outrageous about that drug traffic is that a number
of former government agents seem to be very much
involved in it. A trap is being laid for them. You, I fear,
are in danger of springing it prematurely.”

Donovan waited.

“I tell you now
,
regretfully, that your friend Ray
mond Lesko appears to be involved with these people,
either directly or as an unwitting dupe.”

“Spell it out, Palmer.”

“You are, of course, aware that shortly after the
death of his partner, Raymond Lesko executed three men in a Brooklyn barbershop?”

“That has not been proven or even charged.”

“It may shock you to learn that one of these three
men was an American undercover agent. Quite an ex
cellent young man, by the way. Lesko shot him down
without a word.”

“How could you know that?”

“There was a witness. Her name is Elena.”

Reid watched for a light of recognition in Donovan's
eyes. Donovan had made up his mind to give him noth
ing.

“I have it all second-hand, of course,” Reid told him,
“but the essence is that she survived the shooting be
cause she and Lesko had been in league all along. She's
been hiding since the event. I think Lesko knows
where.”

“That doesn't make him sound like an unwitting
dupe to me.”

“It's conceivable, I suppose,” Reid told him, “that
their relationship might be more personal than crimi
nal. But I have reason to believe that a third party is
using Lesko to reach Elena. I'm afraid Lesko's daughter
is involved in this as well.”

“Who is the third party?”

“I'll need your word first.”

“To do what?”

“I'll tell you what I know. You'll tell me what you
know. You will agree, at minimum, not to tip my hand to
Lesko or anyone else. These people are quite desperate,
you see, and your phone calls were bringing you closer to making certain connections. It's why I had you taken
out of harm's way.”

“You have my word that I'll do what is proper,”
Donovan told him. “The third party, I take it, is Paul
Bannerman.”

“It is.”

“Tell me about him.”

“The man is a cancer. An open sore.”

“Aside from that.”

“Paul Bannerman is the ringleader of a group of
renegade former agents. All are dangerous. Most homi
cidal. All have been dismissed from service for incom
petence, disloyalty, and an array of criminal offenses
that would strain your credulity.”

“Such as?”

“Theft,
extortion, atrocious assault. Three of them
once kidnapped a little girl and sexually abused her for
many hours. The poor child had to be institutionalized.”

“I see.”

“They all live in Westport, with Bannerman, mas
querading as decent citizens. They are also part of a
drug conspiracy that is destroying the very fabric of our
nation.” Reid reached into his pocket and took out a
packet of photographs. He held them aloft, his hand
trembling. “I want you to see what they're capable of,”
he said. “I want you to know how hard it's been for me
to stay my hand against them until I'm sure I can get
them all.” Reid spread the photographs across the cof
fee table.

The first few showed an open car trunk. Two men, bound and beaten, were crammed inside. Other photo
graphs showed that they had survived the ordeal. Still
others showed close-ups of their facial injuries. “That
was the first surveillance team we sent in,” Reid told
him, “Now see the second.”

The next series made Donovan recoil. Two charred
corpses, their arms reaching out. “These men had wives
and children,” Reid said.

Two more photographs. Each showed the burnt hull
of a boat. Donovan looked more closely. They were two
different boats. “What happened here?” he asked.

“The second team went in by boat. A bomb was
planted aboard. The explosion was made to look like a
fuel-leak accident.”

“Then what boat is this?” Donovan pointed to the
other.