Reckless Abandon (Holly Barker 4)

“Dino, you sound reluctant.”

“What gave you that idea? Was it something I said?”

Stone spoke up. “Holly, the best you’re going to get out of the NYPD, except in the circumstances Dino described, is for them to look the other way until you’re on an airplane south with Trini trussed up like a turkey.”

“Dino, did you hear anything about what name Trini is using in the Witness Protection Program?”

“He’s using Trini at the La Boheme. Outside, who knows?”

“I’ve got an idea,” Holly said, digging her cell phone out of her purse.

“That’s it,” Dino said. “Call the director of the FBI. I’m sure he’ll be helpful.”

Holly dialed two zeros, then another digit. “Hello, may I please have the number, under the United States Government, Department of Justice, for the Federal Bureau of Investigation field office in American Samoa? S-A-M-O-A. It’s a bunch of tiny islands in the South Pacific. I’ll hold.” She turned to Stone. “Got a pen?”

Stone handed her his.

“Yes, that’s right.” She grabbed a cocktail napkin a

nd jotted down a long number. “And everything but the last seven digits is the dialing code? Thank you very much.” She punched off.

“What time is it in Samoa?” Dino asked.

“I don’t even know what day it is,” Holly said, dialing the long number. “It’s ringing. Hello, may I speak with Harry Crisp, please? Tell him it’s Holly Barker calling.” She nodded at Stone and waited.

“Hello, Harry? Can you hear me okay?. . . Why, Harry, that’s not a very nice thing to say. And I was trying to be helpful. . . . How? Well, I’ve been feeling badly about your getting transferred to the Pacific Rim, and I thought I might be helpful in getting you back to the States. . . . Well, I don’t know for sure if I can do that, but I can certainly put in a word with Deputy Director Barron, the guy who shipped you out there. . . . Well, of course there’s a tit for tat, Harry. Did you think you’d get my help for free? Actually, it’s a very easy one for you. All I want is the name the Bureau gave Trini Rodriguez in the Witness Protection Program. . . . Yes, Harry, I’m aware that that’s highly confidential,” Holly continued, “but when you weigh a slight breach of confidentiality against a ticket home, well . . . Look, Harry, you’re the guy who put him into the Program. You don’t even have to tap a few computer keys; the name is right there, lodged in your frontal lobe. They haven’t lobotomized you, have they, Harry? . . . Now, how could this possibly get you in trouble? Nobody will know except me. I just want to look up Trini and say hello. He’s of no further use to you, not that he ever was. You were just trying to keep me from arresting and trying him in my jurisdiction.

“Come on, Harry, cough it up. Look, I can’t specify a new assignment for you, but honestly, wouldn’t anywhere be better? . . . I didn’t even know you had an office in Alaska. Would you like me to request Nome for you? Only joking, Harry. Now give me the name and you won’t hear from me again. And if you don’t give me the name, you might never hear from anybody again.” Holly listened and jotted something on her napkin. “Thank you so much, Harry. I’ll give Deputy Director Barron a call tomorrow, first thing. No, it’s dinnertime here, Harry. Bye-bye.”

She hung up and held up the napkin for Stone and Dino to see.

“Robert Marshall,” Stone read aloud.

Dino took Holly’s hand. “Holly, would you like to come work for the NYPD as liaison with the Feds?”

8

HOLLY GOT UP and went to the ladies’ room, leaving Stone and Dino alone.

“So, how’s it going?” Dino asked.

“Well, I stepped in a steaming pile of shit today.”

“What else is new? What is it this time?”

“Remember Lance Cabot?”

“The rogue ex-CIA guy in London?”

“Yes, but it turns out he’s not a rogue, just CIA. The rogue was Hedger, the guy who hired me. Lance is in New York and he turned up at my office today and asked me to represent a guy who’s been doing some contract work for them. Apparently, he’s had a DUI and a couple of other things, and the Agency wants his mess cleaned up. I didn’t want to do it, but he offered me seven-fifty an hour, and he sent around a brown envelope stuffed with twenty-five thousand in crisp, new hundred-dollar bills.”

“That doesn’t sound so shitty. What’s the problem?”

“The guy I’m representing is Herbie Fisher.”

“That schmuck that we had to hunt down in the Virgin Islands?”

“One and the same.”