Harry grinned. “It’s sort of an international Appalachin,” he said. “They’ve all got good passports, but in fake names, and nobody will say anything, but it looks like we’ve got the number two man in the Cali Cartel and the number one man in the Mexican organization. And that’s just for starters. We’re running prints now, and a courier is bringing mug books from Miami. I’d be willing to bet a year’s pay that we’ve got the biggest bust ever.”
“Except for Barney Noble,” she said.
“I’m sorry my guys were late to the party at the marina,” he said, “but Barney will turn up. He can run, but he can’t hide—not for long.”
“I hope you’re right,” Holly said. “I want him bad.”
Harry waved an arm at the view of the golf course out the window. “How do you like my country club?” he asked. “This is all mine, now, this and whatever’s in the vault at the com center. We’ll confiscate it all, nice and legal-like.”
“It looks good on you, Harry.”
“It’s a relief, I tell you,” Harry said. “My career was on the line here.”
“Mine, too,” Holly said. “I’ve just busted into the property of the biggest taxpayers in town. If it came to nothing, my plan was to blame the FBI.”
Harry laughed. “I was going to blame you.”
Holly looked at her watch. “Well, there’s nothing else for me to do here, so I think I’ll go home and grab a shower and a change of clothes and go to work. Keep me posted, will you? I’ll be anxious for news. Is this going to make morning television?”
Harry shook his head. “We’re keeping it locked down until we’ve got some more information. We should be able to delay any kind of statement until the end of the day.”
Holly got up and went to find a ride out of Palmetto Gardens. She found a car and driver and asked to be taken to the station; she wanted to know what was going on there.
She was dropped off in the parking lot and went inside. All was quiet. “Anything going on?” she asked the dispatcher.
“Not a thing,” the young man replied. “We haven’t had a call of any kind all night, except for your APB on Barney Noble.”
“Anything at all on that?”
“Not a peep.”
“Is Jane in yet?”
“No, she’s not due for another hour.”
Holly went back to her office to check her messages and found nothing of consequence. She looked into Jane Grey’s empty office, and that reminded her that she had something unpleasant to do, and she might as well get it over with.
She put Daisy in the chief’s car and, following a map, drove out to Jane’s house. It was an attractive, if modest place, in a good neighborhood. A lawn sprinkler system was at work, and the grass was green. Holly pulled into the driveway behind Jane’s station wagon, which was sitting there with its tailgate open, half filled with boxes and luggage. It looked as though Jane was planning to go somewhere. Holly got out of the car, went to the front door and rang the bell.
Jane came to the door, dressed, but looking frazzled. “Holly,” she said. “What are you doing here at this hour? Is anything wrong?”
“We have to talk, Jane. Can I come in?”
“Why, uh, yes, of course. Come in and sit down.” She showed Holly to a chair. “There’s some coffee on. Can I get you some?”
“No, thanks. Sit down, Jane.”
Jane perched on the edge of a chair facing Holly.
“Are you going somewhere?” Holly asked. “I see you’re loading your car.”
“Oh, ah, just a brief trip. My mother is ill. She lives in Miami. I was going to call you as soon as you got to the station.”
“Your mother is dead, Jane,” Holly said. “I read that in your personnel record, along with some other very interesting information about you.”
Jane looked at her oddly. “What information do you mean?”
“Your original employment application gave your name as Jane Grey Noble, divorced. You were married to Barney Noble, weren’t you?”