“You told me last night that you called because you cared so much.”
“That’s because I was afraid you wouldn’t show up.”
“What do you think I can do for you?”
“They’re going to try to put me in prison because I stopped helping them and I’m still doing what Alex’s guys tell me to do. I just delivered a stolen car. The FBI probably knows, and they warned me if I ever stopped working with them I’d end up going to prison for all the things I’ve done for Alex. But I’m not working with the FBI anymore because I think Alex’s guys are suspicious of me. They must have found out something.”
Marquez started to answer, then turned as he heard engine noise. He saw a blacked-out Suburban coming toward them on the slough road and another down in the vineyard.
“Oh, no, here they come,” she said. “Please don’t stop me.”
She ran across the road and down the slough bank. But where could she go? Without slowing she dove into the water and swam to the other side of the slough, had climbed up the bank before the first Suburban reached him. The agents drew their guns as they came out of the Suburban. Two ran past Marquez, two others ordered him down. He saw the second Suburban down in the vineyard slowing to a stop as he dropped to his knees.
“Face down, arms out, asshole! Where is she!”
Marquez was belly down on the road, face pressed to the soft soil as his gun was stripped off him, a knee on his spine as cuffs clicked into place. An agent leaned over him.
“You’re done, pal. You just fucked up big time.”
35
The cuffs came off after the agent in the passenger seat talked with Ehrmann. But not before they’d driven hard for a little iron bridge over the slough, trying to cut her off, trying to figure out where she went. They hammered him with questions about where she’d gone. The agent sitting in the passenger seat turned to face him.
“You’re not doing yourself any favors,” he said. “You’re only getting in deeper.”
“Drop me here. I’ll walk back to my truck.”
“Where’s she headed?”
“Hand me my phone and gun.”
“You’ll get everything back real soon. Whether you’re going to need your badge and gun when this is over, that’s a different question.”
One of the agents handed him back his gun, phone, and badge, then asked him not to make any calls. The Suburban bounced hard in a rut. They drove too fast for the slough road, and Marquez knew the map showed a way to cross up ahead, but there wasn’t one really.
Still, unless Anna had it very well planned she’d never escape on a flat levee island. Row after row of bare vines and no place to hide. He rubbed his wrists, wiped the dirt off his face, saw one of the agents smile.
“Why were you meeting her?”
Marquez debated talking to them at all, waiting for Ehrmann instead.
“She called with information for me on sturgeon poachers.”
“So you sneaked out to a slough to meet her.”
“It was a place we both knew.”
“Sounds like you know her pretty well.”
Marquez didn’t bother with that. He stared through the window and listened to the radio chatter. They’d begun to worry she had an exit plan and had chosen this slough for a reason. The other agents had chased down the wrong vehicle, and he heard the frustration, one of them demanding over the radio, “Tell that Gamer his ass is fried if he doesn’t come up with answers fast about where she is.”
The agent in the passenger seat turned to Marquez, asked, “Where do you think she went?”
“I don’t know but she can’t be far away. Get a helicopter, the island is flat. Why do you need her so badly?”
He got handed off to another agent and driven into the Sacramento Field Office. Then he was informed that Ehrmann was on his way but that there were questions for him that would start now, and they led him to a room where three agents were waiting. Two men and a woman, the woman with black glossy hair and large eyes that bulged slightly, a way of cocking her head that made him think of a crow. A young agent who was probably undercover with the FBI, or maybe their Operation Russian Ballet was a joint operation with other agencies. He looked like he could be ATF, not quite cleaned up enough for the Bureau. The third agent was older, balding, probably a contemporary of Ehrmann, and didn’t look concerned, didn’t look like he’d made up his mind about any of this yet. He sat quietly, arms folded while the other two picked at Marquez.
“When did she call you?” the younger officer asked.
“Very early this morning.”
“Exactly what time?”
“4:10.”
“You were aware she was under surveillance.”
“Yeah, I was aware you picked her up when we left her at the airport. We found her for you and handed her off in Seattle, and I figured you might show up this morning.”
“Then why did you arrange a meeting with her?”
“She said she had information on sturgeon poachers, and I knew she was in trouble and thought it might be the only way to get the information.”
“What information did she give you?”
“She told me the FBI had reneged on a promise to her and she wanted to escape the situation. She said the deal was her son would be brought to America and in return she’d act as an informant for you until you busted her ex-husband. According to her, a promise got made and broken by the Bureau. We didn’t get much farther than that.”
He took a harder look at the young officer and decided he had to be undercover. No names had been given, none of the three had introduced themselves. They were acting tough but looked worried. Whatever they had going on they were vulnerable to Anna, and he gathered they thought now they should have picked her up in Seattle rather than continue to follow her. Possibly worried she was angry enough to try to get even or double-cross them.
“Why did you meet her?”
“I already answered that. If you can’t come up with new questions then let me ask some. Anna was a confidential informant for us, and we still have an operation under way against sturgeon poachers. I drove out to the delta to meet her today because she disappeared one night and I haven’t talked to her since. I knew the Bureau connected to organized crime through her ex-husband and knew from Ehrmann you’ve been trailing her, but I didn’t know until today you had a deal with her. Was she telling the truth? Did you have a deal? Was she working as an informant for the FBI?”
“You’ve got some balls on you.”
“What’s your name?”
“Peres, and my vote is we lock you up until we get the truth.”
The woman cut in, cut them off, “You were told explicitly, no contact whatsoever, stay away, go home. Your scoutmaster was told the same thing.”
“My scoutmaster?”
“Your Chief of Patrol, whatever. I can’t keep up with these state agencies. Give us word for word your conversation with Ms. Burdovsky.”
“I’ve already given it to you.”
Another call would go today, of course, to Fish and Game headquarters, and the language would get a lot rougher.
“Do it again.”
“She said she had information for me, and I took a chance she might help us. We’ve been looking at a Nikolai Ludovna, Don August, Abe Raburn, and Richie Crey. Do any of those names mean anything to you?”
“You were told no contact,” the crow said.
“No, we were backed off a couple of times. Check with Ehrmann. We’ve been looking for Anna Burdovsky since she vanished.”
“And you were backed off her when you found her.”
“Yeah, after we found her for you we were backed off.”
Now the balding older agent spoke for the first time. “There was really no choice with that, Lieutenant, but you know that.”
“Yeah, but the story made more sense yesterday.”
“The way I hear it you’ve already been allowed unusual access.”
The crow cut back in. “Which you just abused. Listen to me, Lieutenant, a lot of people are at risk and this is not a game of who’s hooking those bizarre-looking fish.” Her nostrils flared. “If you aren’t one hundred percent straight with us, you’ll put agents at risk. I guarantee you, you’ll lose your badge, your job, and your honor.”