Strachey's Folly - Stevenson Richard (читать книги онлайн регистрации .TXT) 📗

I asked Dolan, "If I can locate and talk to Jim Suter and get his story, can you help me find a way to protect him?"

Grimly she said, "Look, this whole episode has drug-operation turf war written all over it. If that's what Jim Suter is involved in, maybe nobody can protect him and you will want to do one thing and one thing only, and that is, stand way clear. You mean this didn't occur to you, Donald? Mexico is now a key transit point for South American narcotics entering the United States. Mexican officials, police agencies, often the narcs them­selves, want a piece of this billion-dollar pie. It's a poor country where a lot of people just go ahead and grab what they can. You didn't consider that that might be the source of Jim Suter's trou­bles?"

"It occurred to me," I said. "But what's a former Republican congresswoman from Central Pennsylvania got to do with it? That part of it makes no sense."

"I guess that's a question you'll have to ask Jim Suter."

"Will you help me investigate?" I said. "I'd like to do what I can to bring in the people who shot Maynard, and to do it with­out hurting Jim Suter, if that's possible. That's the way Maynard would want me to do it, I think—not that he has any real idea of what Suter's involvement is. The one thing that's certain in all this is that Maynard had no known connection to whatever is going on here, and he does not deserve to be lying shot up in a hospital bed struggling to stay alive."

"Yeah, that's usually the way it goes," Dolan said. "No, I won't help you investigate the case. I haven't been assigned to it, and I won't be, and I've got another six or eight dozen cases open at the moment. What I will do is: I'll keep you up to speed on the department's progress on the case as well as I can with­out actually doing anything that might jeopardize my job. I'll also try to find out who else in the department is keeping close track of the case, and why. That should help out."

Timmy said, "What if you find out a lot of people in the de­partment, especially higher-ups, are keeping close tabs on the case?"

Dolan shrugged. "What if I do?"

"But wouldn't that be significant?" Timmy was pale and looked a little woozy.

"I guess it would be," Dolan said, and caught my eye. She seemed to be thinking what I was thinking, that maybe it was time for Timmy to head back to Albany.

Chapter 7

I know why you're doing this," Timmy said. We were back in the hotel room, where a call to GW had just confirmed that Maynard was unconscious but still in stable condition. "You're acknowledging that there's at least a possibility that some well-connected gang of some type thinks it needs to kill Maynard for whatever weird reason. And you're showing by your actions that the only way to guarantee Maynard's safety—or at least ease my mind about it—is either to disprove a conspiracy, or to expose it and end it. Is that right?"

"Not exactly."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean what you say is partly true, but—Timothy, while the size of my ego may fall within the upper midrange of nor­mal, I do not suffer from delusions of grandeur. I can poke around and try to come up with an educated guess as to the na­ture of this—thing. But if it's extensive at all, there's precious lit­tle I'll be able to do about it. Especially if it's a Mexican drug-gang operation. To those people, I'd be gnatlike, an insect they'd swat. I'm selectively ambitious, yes, but I'm not suicidal."

"Do you think it is a drug operation that Suter's mixed up in?"

"I know too little to have formed a strong opinion, but right now I'd say probably not."

"I don't think so either."

"It's the involvement of the quilt," I said. "And Betty Krum-futz." Timmy nodded enthusiastically. "What could they possibly have to do with drug gangs?"

"A lot of religious-right types are hypocrites," Timmy said. "But their hypocrisies are usually more mundane—sexual or un-sensationally financial. Nobody ever suspected Pat Robertson of running a drug cartel."

"He does have ties with Mobutu in Zaire. Robertson controls mineral concessions there, and he's an apologist in Washington for the tyrant. But, as I understand them, Betty Krumfutz's mis­deeds were of a more parochial variety. Or, to be more accurate, her husband's transgressions were. He was actually the only one charged and convicted of the fraudulent use of campaign funds."

"That's right. I don't remember reading about anything in­ternational in the Krumfutz case. And they wouldn't have been involved in any CIA-Nicaraguan contras drug connection. What­ever that amounted to, or didn't amount to, it took place in the early to mid eighties—way too long ago."

"On the other hand," I said, "I think we have to take seri­ously Chondelle's hunch that the actual attack on Maynard was done by drug people. She'd have a reliable feel for that. Maybe Betty Krumfutz wasn't involved in anything really awful. Maybe just her husband was—or is."

"As I recall, Maynard told us Nelson Krumfutz isn't in prison yet, pending the outcome of his appeals. Maybe Betty stumbled onto something—about drug dealing by her husband possibly— and she—what?—heard that some incriminating evidence had been sewn onto Jim Suter's panel in the AIDS quilt. That sounds far-fetched, I guess."

"It does. Although we are talking here about a husband and wife who actually went out and did what people have to do in the United States in order to get elected to Congress—lust after cash like methadone addicts in search of a fix and act civil to some of the biggest assholes in the country. So, where the Krurn-futzes are concerned, feel free to give your imagination wide lat­itude."

"Ah so," Timmy said. "Am I now to believe that you may be ready to entertain the idea of an actual plot? Earlier today my imagination was feverish and possibly in need of medication. Now I'm supposed to give it free rein?"

"Don't go that far. Look, I'm ready to accept that there are connections among several disturbing events here. And specu­lation on what those connections are can serve as a pastime, for now, in the absence of facts. I'm just not ready—and I don't plan on getting ready—to implicate entire hospitals or entire trans­portation fleets or entire agencies of government in a monstrous conspiracy."

"I get that. You've made your views plain."

"It's not that I don't believe in conspiracies. I know, recent American history is full of them, from plots to use the Mafia to kill Castro, to the FBI plot to drive Martin Luther King to suicide, to Cointelpro, to Iran-contra. But nearly all human folly and evil, Timothy, is individual—bad or just fallible people caught in the act of being their wicked or weak selves. This has been my ex­perience in life—from crooked pols in Albany, to greedy devel­opers, to people who, when they are backed into an actual or emotional corner, lash out and kill."

"Yes, Don, that's been your experience. But aren't you being just a tad solipsistic?" he said, yet again waving his gilded degree from a Jesuit institution in my face. "Maybe your experience with evil has been relatively narrow, and now it's being broadened. Usually you're as rigorous as anybody I know in insisting on em­pirical evidence to support your analyses. But this time, you're not. All the evidence here says something complex and very dangerous is happening. I know you think I'm going all nellie and wussing out, but that's not it. It's not me, it's the facts. I am afraid, and fear is the only rational reaction to what has hap­pened to Maynard and to you and me over the past twenty-four hours. If you've got facts to the contrary, I'd like to hear about them."