“Thanks. I think it will do a lot for Anita’s self-esteem if this man is made to pay for hurting her.”
Blair nodded. “Unfortunately, it might be impossible to prove that he’s committed a crime. What about the property he stole? Do you think you’ll be able to recover it? Or is there any evidence that he’s already sold it?” Blair maintained his usual casual attitude, but the fingers of his left hand drummed a rhythm on the desk and his right foot, shook frantically in space.
“Interesting that you didn’t ask if I’ve learned what he took. But, you’ve known all along, haven’t you? Or at least suspected, right?”
Blair’s smile didn’t drop, but it hardened. “I’m not sure I get your meaning.”
“It never occurred to me that you knew anything about your cleaning woman’s father,” Hannibal said, “but Anita says you knew enough to tell her that he was a genius. I’m thinking you suspected from the beginning that the only thing he’d hide for her that could be of great value was some new pharmaceutical breakthrough. Then I remembered that among your holdings is an on-line pharmaceutical company.”
Blair lowered his foot to the floor and sat forward just a bit. “Whatever Cooper came up with has to be of great value, based on what he told her. Someone is going to make a great deal of money from his discovery. Now it’s out there where anybody might capitalize on it. I’m the only one who would make sure Ms Cooper gets her fair share of the wealth a new wonder drug will generate. But I can’t do that unless the formula is recovered.”
“How very altruistic of you,” Hannibal said, standing. “Well, you’re my client and I will do all I can to protect your interests. But you should know that Anita has retained an excellent business attorney who will make sure her interests are protected as well.”
Blair’s smile returned to its former lightness. “Ah, this would be Miss Santiago, right? She’s with Baylor, Truman and Ray I believe, one of the finest business firms in Washington. I’m quite sure that we will work quite smoothly with them on this matter, once you’ve recovered Ms Cooper’s prize.”
Any response Hannibal might have considered was pushed out of his head by the ring of his cell phone. Blair indicated that he should take the call, so he pulled his phone out and pushed the button. At first all he heard was distant sobbing.
“Hannibal? Sarge. I don’t know what to do.”
Hannibal didn’t think he had ever heard desperation in Sarge’s voice before.
“What’s going on, man? Where are you? Is that Marquita in the background? Is she all right?”
“I brought her down to Virginia Beach to relax a bit. Now she’s freaking out,” Sarge said, his voice pumping fear into the telephone. “I’ve just now calmed her down enough for her to tell me why. She saw him Hannibal. She spotted Rod Mantooth down here.”
14
Finding a parking space on the narrow streets of Georgetown late in the morning challenged even those who lived and worked in the area. Because Hannibal seldom frequented the northwestern quadrant of The District, the search became a major test of his ingenuity. The row houses in Georgetown didn’t seem significantly bigger than the ones in his own neighborhood or anywhere else, nor did they have any more space around or behind them. Yards seemed tiny, and to him a brick front was a brick front. The fact that these places sold for upwards of a million dollars made little sense to him. But he wasn’t there looking for a home. After failing to learn anything about Mantooth from public sources, he was looking for a man who might have access to less official but more valuable information.
It had taken Hannibal a few minutes to calm Sarge down. He had insisted that Sarge stay with Marquita and not go looking for Mantooth on the beach where she had spotted him. He had promised that he would join them that night. Then he headed for The District to find an old acquaintance. He was driving against the major flow of traffic on I-66 at this time of day and had no trouble holding a speed in the sixties. While he drove he contacted the one person he knew in Virginia Beach who might be able to help him.
“Huge Wilson, you are one hard man to talk to on the phone.”
“Well my posse has to protect me from the nut jobs, the local fans, and especially the would-be rappers and hip-hop singers who’ll do anything for an audition,” Wilson replied. His voice’s purity, reminiscent of Eddie Kendricks’ falsetto, always surprised Hannibal.
“Listen, Huge, I can use some help and I think you once said that if I needed anything…”
“Of course,” Huge said, and Hannibal could hear him smiling into the phone at the other end. “In my biz, street cred is very necessary, dog. I said if you ever need anything and I meant it. Now what we talking about?”
“As it happens, it’s your street credibility that will make you so valuable right now,” Hannibal said. “I need to find a guy named Rod Mantooth. He robbed and beat up a sister up here, and I have reliable intel that he’s hanging in Virginia Beach right now. He’s a white guy, but he’s got underworld connections and likes to live large. I figure if he’s making contact with the drug dealer crowd your contacts might spot him.”
“Beat up a sister?” Huge said. “Shit, if he’s on the streets of Virginia Beach my posse will run him down. You want me to take care of this, or just save him for you?”
“Please just locate the fool for me if you can,” Hannibal said. “I’ll be down there tonight and I’d like a shot at recovering the stolen property.”
“You just lay back and leave this one to me,” Huge said. “E-mail me a good description of this asshole and a picture if you’ve got one, and we’ll get down to business.”
That conversation had ended just in time for Hannibal to switch onto Route 29 and let the Key Bridge carry him over the Potomac. That dropped him within a couple of blocks of his destination, Cafe Milano. Still, it came as no surprise that after wandering the claustrophobic warren of one-way streets for a few minutes he ended up parking behind the Shops at Georgetown Park. It was too hot for even a short walk. Hannibal pulled off his suit coat and locked his shoulder holster in the Volvo’s trunk before proceeding. He covered the necessary three blocks with his jacket draped over his arm.
Hannibal had called ahead, knowing that he was likely to find Anthony Ronzini having an early lunch. Freddy, Ronzini’s personal protector, greeted Hannibal at the door. Hannibal knew that square head, thin sandy hair and broken nose. Freddy had the mass of a heavyweight fighter and the light tread one would expect a middleweight to have. Hannibal nodded a greeting and raised his arms for a pat down. They had not met under the best of circumstances.
“No need for that,” Freddy said. “You clean?”
“Of course. I won’t disrespect Mr. Ronzini at a meal.”
Freddy turned to lead Hannibal into the restaurant. On their way to Ronzini’s table they passed three or four familiar faces. Cafe Milano was one of those places that attracted Washington's power elite. Hannibal had his coat back on by the time they reached the patio. Stepping into the glass-fronted area was a quick trip to Europe. Plants and flowers flanked two long rows of tables wearing white tablecloths. The blossoms and leaves looked as if they were catered to as much as the diners. Hannibal guessed the room’s capacity at around a hundred, and he was sure that it was ninety percent full that day.
When he reached Ronzini’s table, Hannibal looked around slowly, wondering how many of the men nearby were in Ronzini’s employ. While not a major force in the local crime scene, Ronzini was a player and was not without influence. His round Italian face turned toward Hannibal and offered a congenial smile.
“Sit, Mr. Jones. Have you had lunch? At least have an espresso with me.” Ronzini raised his left hand and a waiter stepped toward them.
Hannibal lowered himself into the seat facing Ronzini, who sat behind a huge salad filled with things Hannibal wasn’t sure he could name. He saw eggplant, peppers, tomatoes and the fake lettuce Cindy called arugula. The other stuff hardly looked like food, although some of it might be cheese of some sort.