He snapped the phone shut. “Socorro’s disappeared.”
Viz stepped toward Brandon, grabbed him by his suit lapels, and lifted him out of the chair. He held Brandon up, feet dangling, then stepped toward the window.
Brandon’s eyes turned wild.
“Gage. Stop him. You’ve got to stop him.”
Viz held Brandon against the curtain. “If anything happens to my sister I’ll break you in two.”
“Viz, put him down.”
Viz lowered Brandon to his feet, then backed away and turned toward Gage.
“Socorro left the ranch at nine o’clock this morning to go shopping in Nogales. She didn’t come back. And she isn’t answering her cell phone.”
Gage could feel fury begin to rage, at Brandon, at Anston, and at himself. Instead of protecting Socorro, he had led her into a trap.
Gage fixed his eyes on Brandon. “Where’s Boots Marnin?”
“Who?”
“Don’t play dumb. Where is he?”
“I… I’ve never heard of anyone named Marnin. I’m telling you the truth.”
Gage pointed at the desk chair and Brandon sat down, then he led Viz into the hallway. “Have you talked to her daughter?”
“Socorro called Sandy yesterday to say she was going shopping in town. Alex Z was watching the video feed this morning and saw her drive away. She was supposed to be back at the ranch by noon.”
Viz glanced toward the elevator. “I better get out there.”
Gage shook his head. “I know some ex-Border Patrol guys in Tucson. They’re tough and know the area.” He searched his cell phone contacts and connected the number. He introduced Viz, then handed him the phone.
Gage returned inside and pointed at Brandon. “I want Anston.”
Brandon slumped in the chair. “No way. He’s insulated himself. The paper trail seems to go to him, but once you look at it, it dead-ends with Palmer and with me. His intelligence training wasn’t wasted. I’m the one who went to the Caymans to first meet with Quinton fifteen years ago.”
Brandon’s eyes darted toward the bookshelf.
“Are we talking about TIMCO now,” Gage said, “or the campaign money?”
“Both.”
Viz walked back into the room.
“I’ve got to e-mail them some photos of Socorro.” Viz looked at Brandon, but spoke to Gage. “You going to be okay with this asshole?”
“Take off. Joe will be here in a few minutes.”
Viz glared at Brandon, now shrunk back in his chair.
“You better hope she’s all right. You’ve got no place to hide where I can’t find you. No place.”
G age worked the fractured door closed after Viz left and then sat down on the bed.
“I thought we’d find a hooker in here,” Gage said.
Brandon shrugged.
“Your wife will be relieved. Maybe she’ll even visit you in prison.”
They both alerted to a knock at the door. Gage stood up, reached under his windbreaker, and rested his hand on his gun. He pulled the door open a crack, peeked through, then opened it the rest of the way and let Casey inside.
Casey surveyed the room. His eyes came to rest on Brandon. Gage filled him in on the scam and about use of the hotel room as a secret office, and about the urgency created by Socorro’s disappearance.
“What do you want to do?” Casey asked.
“Number one is to get Anston before he can hurt Socorro.”
“And number two is Landon?”
Brandon pushed himself to his feet.
“I told you. Landon had nothing to do with any of this. He doesn’t know anything about it.”
Casey pointed at Brandon.
“Sit down.”
Brandon dropped back into the chair.
“Why not Landon first?” Casey asked. “Maybe go public. Try to freeze everything in place.”
“Because then we’d never get Anston. Once this blows up, he’ll know he’s next and make a run for it, and he won’t leave any witnesses behind-starting with Socorro.” Gage felt his body tense. “If she’s still alive.”
F orty minutes after Gage called the Oakland loft, Alex Z and Shakir came through the hotel room door. Their bodyguards posted themselves in the hallway. They set up their laptops to catalogue everything in the office and copy the drives on Brandon’s computers.
Gage swept his hand from the bookcases to the computer on the desk to the file cabinet in the corner, then turned toward Brandon.
“Walk us through it.”
Chapter 85
Gage watched from inside the surveillance van parked a block west of the restaurant as a dinner crowd of black-suited men and women filled the entrance of Tadich Grill. Limousines were double-parked in front. Streetlights and neon signs shone down on pavement slick from an uneasy mist swirling down the street.
B randon Meyer had difficulty working his way through the door. As he crossed the dining room, he saw Marc Anston set down his cell phone on the starched white tablecloth.
“Why are you sweating?” Anston asked as Brandon settled in his chair.
“I had to park six blocks away and I got a late start from court.”
“That’s not like you.”
“I set off some fireworks at the OptiCom hearing. The chief judge came by to kibitz. I couldn’t walk out on him.”
Anston smiled. “We neutralized Gage. Nobody will listen to anything he says.”
Brandon nodded. “And Casey, too.”
Anston pointed toward the restroom sign and picked up the phone. “I’ve got to go the john.”
G age was seated on a metal chair bolted to the floor of the van. Shelves of electronic equipment stretched along the driver’s side: receivers, bugging devices, two-way radios. Viz was stationed at the rear window, binoculars pointed at the entrance, and Joe Casey sat in his Ford Explorer in a yellow zone a block to the east.
“The restaurant is noisy as hell,” Gage said to Viz after Anston left the table. “The wire on Brandon is picking up a lot of background sounds.”
Gage kept the headphones pressed against his ears trying to hear through the conversations at adjoining tables, the clink of glasses, and the clatter of dishes, waiting for Anston to return.
Viz looked toward Gage. “I’m sorry about that Socorro thing. I hope it didn’t get you in a jam with your pals in Tucson.”
“No problem. I’m just glad she finally called.”
“I should’ve told her we were watching the video feed from the ranch.”
“It’s not your fault. Neither one of us wanted to worry her.” Gage adjusted the sound level on his receiver. “Did she say what she was doing?”
“Visiting some friends in Tempe. Then she stayed overnight because she was too tired to drive back and then her cell phone battery died. She’s going to stay one more night and go to a play at the university.”
“You didn’t tell her about Brandon, did you?”
“No. She might’ve done something preemptive.”
Gage peeked through the curtains separating the cab from the interior of the van. He looked through the windshield, scanning the cars and sidewalks and the office and store windows.
“You see anything we need to worry about?” he asked Viz.
Viz raised his binoculars and peered out the rear window. “There are a lot of people on the street, but no George Str-”
“Hold on,” Gage said. “Anston’s back.”
H ow do we keep Gage quiet after the Senate vote tomorrow?” Brandon said. “I can’t keep OptiCom going forever and eventually Oscar Mogasci will roll back the other way. Casey will put him on a polygraph and he’ll fold.”
Anston leaned over the table. His voice turned hard. “I’m tired of Gage and I’m about an inch away from sending him the same way as Charlie Palmer.”
Brandon’s mouth went dry. He hadn’t believed Gage the night before. It was too absurd. His voice fell to a whisper.
“You’re insane. Completely insane. You didn’t kill-”
“TIMCO was a domino. If it fell, everything would’ve followed. I had no choice. We had no choice.”
“There’s no ‘we’ in this.”
Anston laughed. “What is it about judges? The second they’re caught up in something themselves they forget what a conspiracy is. How many of those teenage Mexican wetbacks did you send to federal prison? You think any of them had a hand in any of the murders their narco-bosses committed? But you gave them prison terms like they’d pulled the trigger themselves.”