Chapter 5

"What's happening, Tom?" I demanded.

"Are you armed?" Tom asked, a non sequiter, I thought.

"Yeah, both of us. Why?"

"You need to be. Things have heated up. In a nutshell, the drug money operation you helped bust up-even though you didn't know you were doing it, I understand-was real important to a big cocaine distributor out of San Francisco.

"Our senator had a pointed conversation with the Attorney General when he got back to Washington. Two of the agencies involved come under the Justice Department umbrella. When the internal investigators-who I believe really are squeaky clean, by the way-started digging into it, they found, in addition to the clerk in IRS who we already knew about, three people in the DEA and one in the FBI who were passing information to the druggies. One of them is the DEA agent from Portland.

"The request to locate you came from him. I can only assume he is trying to find you on orders of the drug people, since Norm won't get into town until tomorrow morning and doesn't care where you are until tomorrow afternoon, when he wants to see you."

"Wow!" Sarah said. "What have we done to them? Haven't they had enough revenge? How much blood is enough?"

Tom answered, "Sarah, you can't understand people like this. They often act, literally, as if they were God. Coming after you is really stupid, on their part. You don't know who they are and weren't doing anything to harm them. Providing the link between your accident and your client's death was no big deal. Somebody would have made the connection sooner or later. It's just that, apparently in a fit of rage, this guy had ordered Mike taken out. He wasn't. He's unhappy, so some people in his organization are frightened. Now they've messed it up more, because too many people know the score. What were those four people inside the government worth to them? A helluva lot more than you two. But they burned them, playing their silly, egotistic, god game!"

Tom defends a number of criminal cases. But we found he really hates drugs and those who deal in them.

"Tom, where are we going?" Sarah asked, noticing for the first time that we were going away from our town.

"Portland. Where did you think?" he said.

"Why, I expected to go home."

"Now, don't you be stupid, girl," Tom replied, tartly. "There's no indication they'll disturb your house, as long as you're not in it. But no sense in you being someplace expected, until we can get a few things straight."

"What do you mean by that, Tom?" I asked.

"Well, tomorrow morning, the four of us (Bill, too) are going to have a little chat with the U.S. Attorney. We're going to have a representative from the Secret Service there too-a guy who used to head up the Presidential detail; now he's in charge here in Portland. We're going to make the government make it right with you two, for this latest SNAFU. And we're not going to accept any bureaucratic horseshit, either. After lunch, we'll invite this Norm Johnson to the party, to find out what his agency is doing about the guy in San Francisco."

"All we want to hear, Tom, is that these people are off our backs. Losing Sandy was awful enough. Now being told we have to live in constant fear of people we've never heard of is just too much!"

"I couldn't agree more, Mike. That's what we're trying to accomplish. Tonight, you will be guests of the Secret Service, as a favor to me from the guy I told you about. I can't do any better than that. Tomorrow we'll have the meetings I told you about. Then we'll see. We will solve this, Mike. Be sure of it."

By then we were in Portland and Tom took us to a lovely house in the hills, where we were met by a gracious lady about my age. "Come in, dears. You too, Tom. You can stop for a drink, I'm sure. Come on in. Frank will be with us in a minute. I'm Mary. You must be Mike and Sarah. Tom's told Frank all about you. I've been so anxious to meet you. To hear Tom, you're the most fascinating couple he's ever met. You've simply captivated him..." and on and on; Mary didn't stop talking until we were in a comfortable sitting room with drinks in our hands and her husband, Frank, appeared.

I rose and shook his hand. "You're Frank, I gather. I'm Mike. This is Sarah. Thank you so much for looking after us, though we think we'd have been OK at home."

Frank gave me a small tight smile, then took Sarah's hand, with a more genuine smile of appreciation. Turning back to me he said, "Don't kid yourself. You're in serious danger until we get this thing resolved. And I don't know how fast our sister agencies are working on that-or with what level of security. No later than day after tomorrow-maybe sooner-the story will break in the news. This will make national news broadcasts: It's as big a scandal as catching a Russian spy. At least four trusted people in three major federal agencies have been selling information to drug interests. Yep. That will make headlines.

"And you two are the ones who got the ball rolling. If you'd been killed in that 'accident', like you were supposed to be Mike, none of this would have happened. So they 'blame' you. We all know you didn't really do anything. And in fact, just want to get on with your life. But that's the way it is.

"Now. I just happen to know a little bit about personal security..." he said with a straight face. This guy was one of the world's leading experts on protecting people from assassins. "And I have some ideas for you two. Tonight you'll stay here. I'll be with you all day tomorrow and I've asked a couple of my people to help out. Normally out here we chase counterfeiters and such, but some of us like to keep in practice, so to speak.

"Mike, could I have your keys? We'll pick up your car-it's at the marina in Columbia City?-and check it and your house out, thoroughly. With your permission, there's a private security firm I'd like to bring in to wire the place and take care of things until you can go back home. I'm not allowed to recommend people..." He stopped and grinned. "So in this case I'll just tell them what I want done and have them do it. For 'rent-a-cops' they're pretty good. OK?"

Sarah's eyes were like saucers. She just nodded. So did I, as I dug out my keys from my pocket.

"Mary?" Frank asked, "how much time do we have before dinner?"

"About an hour, dear," she answered.

"Then I just have time to get you a few things. I've a couple of calls to make. If you'll write down what you need and your sizes, I'll FAX it to my office and one of our people will get everything and bring it here-you know, underwear, toothbrush, whatever you need to be comfortable in the meetings tomorrow. No need to be 'dressy'."

So while Frank went back into his den and his phone and Tom said 'good night' and left, Sarah and I decided what we would wear tomorrow. We wanted to look nice; respectable. She ordered slacks and a sweater, I wanted a nice shirt and slacks. And we needed underwear and toiletries. We wrote it all down carefully, and took it in to Frank who shoved it into a FAX machine without a break in the conversation he was having.

Wandering into the kitchen, Sarah at least could help Mary with dinner. I was at loose ends, since Tom had left. I didn't want to watch TV and was too nervous to read anything. I wandered around Frank's nice home until he caught up with me and suggested we have a drink before dinner. I told him, truthfully, that I could use one.

We ended up with a bottle of good whiskey, a small pitcher of water, and two glasses in Frank's study. "Mike, the Presidential Detail is like the Praetorian Guard. Nobody knows the intimacies of a President's life like his guards. And we never talk. I can tell stories about funny things that happened with this or that President which relate to security issues. But I will never, even to my wife, talk about a man's family or his personal foibles or even immoralities.

"I say this because there are a couple of things I need to say to you. And you need to know that I won't reveal anything about you to anyone else.

"I know that your wife is your daughter. That kind of arrangement wouldn't work for me, but I've seen how she looks at you. I wish Mary still looked at me that way! This DEA guy, Johnson, only knows Sarah as your daughter. He doesn't know you've married. From all I can dig up, I think Johnson is straight. I'd like to clue him in, so he doesn't make more trouble for you than he already has?"

When I nodded, Frank continued, "It's possible that this thing could drag on. If it does, do you want to consider the witness protection program?"

That didn't take long: "Only as a very last resort, Frank. We moved once, running away from memories I couldn't handle. We don't want to run again. And I don't want to be a shopkeeper. I'm damn good at what I do and enjoy it. I need to keep my own name and be accessible in order to continue to do it. Having said that, I'll do what I have to in order to keep Sarah safe."

"About what I expected," Frank acknowledged. Tilting the bottle towards my glass, I held up one finger, indicating only a short refill. When he'd touched up his own drink, he continued. "Drugs aren't in our jurisdiction, except we stomp them when we come across them. But I know about them, because finding laundered drug money is part of my job. What tipped you off, about that company in Denver? Maybe I could pick up some pointers?"

"That's hard to pin down, Frank. It wasn't any one thing. You know how you get a feel for a place when you walk in the door?" Frank nodded his understanding. "Well, that place didn't feel right. There was a lot of tension there. A feeling of fear, almost. They knew I was the personal representative of a potential major investor and were very cordial. But when I asked for specific items from their records, there was always a delay in getting them to me. And I never got really good answers regarding the source of some earlier, very large, investments, or the use to which my client's money would be put. Based on its cash flow, the company didn't need any additional investment. But I couldn't be really sure, because I couldn't tell how much of the money coming in was 'new investment', or how much was income from operations.

"I guess it was just that the whole thing was too nebulous. It was like trying to dissect a marshmallow. One part is just like another. It was shapeless. The tax returns were no help, either... And when I went out into the operating area, the volume of activity-the amount of product being shipped-didn't seem to match up with income... Is this what you wanted?"

"Yeah, Mike. I think so. It gives me something to think about anyway. Thanks. Now, what say we go 'supervise' dinner?"

Our timing was good, as the ladies were just starting to put dinner on the table. We had a nice meal with good conversation. Mary told some cute stories about the Washington D.C. area.

After dinner, our packages were delivered, checked out and we were shown to the guest room. Since we were pretty tired, we showered and went to bed. We thought about making love, but were so tired that we fell asleep as I was sucking a nipple. I did get an interesting pillow!

In the morning, we were awakened by Mary's knock on the door and her voice asking us to get up, please, so we could have breakfast before we had to go downtown to the federal courthouse. So it was up, shave and dress, breakfast and off to meet the U.S. Attorney. Frank drove us himself, remarking he had to be with us all day, anyway.

On arrival, we learned that Bill and Tom were expected momentarily. Then we were all ushered into a comfortable small conference room where Sarah and I were introduced to the U.S. Attorney, a big hearty man named Gary. We were quickly informed that a part of Frank's function, besides being a world class security expert, was to recognize and help steer us through any government smoke screens which might be thrown at us. Frank nodded, modestly, at this.

Next, we were told that a large raid on the San Francisco headquarters of the drug lord who was after us was to be mounted that afternoon, along with the arrest of all of his known associates and detailed searches of his businesses, homes and so on. They hoped to capture and arrest him, too, but weren't sure if they could, given the number of bolt holes he maintained in all his regular locations.

Almost surely, he would be tipped off and hard to catch, at best.

Sarah and I looked at each other. "Who is this guy?" I demanded. "He's been doing his best to kill us and we've not been told who we're up against!" The name we were given, Angelo Guiterrez, didn't mean a thing to us.

"He's native U.S. citizen, fourth or fifth generation, of Spanish/Mexican heritage. His great-great-grandparents used to own a nice chunk of California, but lost most of it when Mexico lost the territory. Clever and ruthless, he's put together the primary narcotics distribution ring on the west coast. He's strictly a wholesaler, selling to customers like the L.A. gangs. He buys a lot of Oregon marijuana, too, for distribution."

I looked at Bill and Tom. "Do I have any legal weapons against this guy? Can I sue him for assault on me and wrongful death for Sandy, for example?"

Sadly, Bill shook his head. "This is one of those cases, Mike, where we know who did it, but have absolutely no way of proving it. All we'd accomplish, I'm afraid, is to stir up the hornet's nest even more."

"Well, then, how can we get at him? All we've seen from the government is bungling. If they can't take care of him, what can we do that will?" Sarah asked. She was plain mad, clear through. "We're not talking about somebody who screwed us out of some money, or something. We're talking about somebody we don't even know, who wants us dead-and has the ability to make it happen! There must be something we can do."

"For today," the U.S. Attorney said, "let's wait and see how it goes down. Your senator quietly lit a pretty good-sized fire under a lot of people. The A.G. himself told me I'll be given the same progress reports he's getting and at the same time. Right here, we'll be able to keep a close watch on what's happening in today's sweep. And the 'affiliates' here in Portland will be picked up, too. You'll be able to see all the reports as they are sent in and follow the action pretty well. By the end of the day, we'll have a lot better idea of how badly we've hurt Guiterrez. That will tell us if he has time or energy to spend on you, or if he'll be scrambling to save his own miserable hide."

For now, we had to be content with that.

The rest of the morning was taken up with all of us being briefed on the details on what had been happening since we talked with the senator. After his private, but pointed talk with the Attorney General, the A.G. had held a long conversation with the Justice Department's Inspector General. A dozen men of the highest level of investigative ability and absolutely unquestioned integrity were selected-including two members of the Secret Service who had worked 'The Detail' under Frank. These men started digging out who had fingered us-starting with the current situation and working back to the tragedy in Colorado. As we knew, they had uncovered four, so far, who were selling out.