Army cavalry saber and scabbard that hung over the fireplace in the billiard room of his hacienda.
He wanted to move the sword to his library. It was the only item De Leon possessed from a trove of priceless American military and historical artifacts he had arranged to buy and resell on the Asian market. The cache, taken by Apaches during the Indian Wars, had been discovered in a secret cave on White Sands Missile Range and smuggled off the base. But the shipment had been intercepted by a gringo cop named Kevin Kerney before it could be delivered to De Leon De Leon had bartered with the U.S. Army for the sword, two hundred thousand dollars in diamonds, and the release of Carlos from custody in exchange for a quantity of letters written by members of the pth US.
Cavalry during the Indian Wars. The smugglers had given the letters to De Leon as proof that the cache was authentic before he agreed to broker the deal.
Putting the sword in the library, where he spent the majority of his time at the hacienda, would serve as a reminder that not every venture succeeded as planned.
He adjusted the climate and humidity controls, turned out the light, and entered the security code to the door. Carlos and the team had done well. andy baca, chief of the state police for two months and counting, stood in the governor's private office on the fourth floor of the Roundhouse, the colloquial name for the state capitol. A circular structure modeled on Pueblo Indian kivas, the building had been nicknamed by political pundits while it was still under construction, and the label had stuck.
The governor's cherry-wood desk, matching sideboard, and executive chair sat in front of the only windows in me office, which were flanked by two empty, expensive brass-and-glass display cases. On me side walls were two private entrances: one connected to the chief of staff's office and me other to a large conference room.
In one corner was a leather couch, coffee table, and several oversize learner chairs. The rest of the space was taken over by two straight-backed chairs in front of the governor's desk, a small conference table with chairs, and a credenza that stood against the wall to the private bathroom.
Unhappily, Andy stared at the empty walls, fully aware the theft would draw intense public scrutiny and criticism. Failure to solve the case could damage the department and probably cost Andy his job.
Andy wasn't about to let that happen. He had retired from the state police some time ago when he realized his chances of becoming chief were nil, and moved to Las Cruces with his wife. Bored with retirement, he ran for county sheriff, won the election, served one term in on ice and was asked to return to the state police as chief. It was a dream come true, the capstone to his career that he had always wanted. But not for the prestige the appointment brought. Under his calm demeanor, Andy was a reformer, and he wanted to modernize and improve the department.
In uniform, Andy wore a light gray shirt with his rank on the collars and badge over the left pocket, a black tie, black pants with a gray stripe, and highly polished black shoes. On his belt was a high-rise holster containing a.357 revolver with a four-inch barrel. It was the one personal touch he had allowed himself since taking over the job.
Every other officer under his command carried the required standard-issue nine millimeter semiautomatic.
Captain Vance Howell, the officer in charge of security for the governor, stood silently next to Andy, waiting to get his butt chewed.
He had come up through the ranks junior to Andy and served under him briefly just prior to Andy's retirement as a captain. Now Baca was back as chief.
Howell knew exactly why Baca had been tapped for the job-it was politics, pure and simple. The governor, a Republican, wanted more money from the legislature to build new prisons, and the Democrats, who controlled the legislature, wanted their man sitting in the chief's chair.
Howell had hoped to get the appointment himself, but now he would have to wait until Baca stepped down. He had the governor's promise on it, which was good enough for him. And if Baca failed on this case, Vance might get a crack at the chief's job sooner than he had anticipated.
Andy scanned the paper in his hand and turned to Howell.
"Is this the complete inventory of the stolen property?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," Howell replied.
"The cultural affairs office verified it."
Technically, Howell's sole responsibility was the safety of the governor and his immediate family, but that didn't mean Baca wouldn't try to lay the blame for the theft at Vance's feet, if the need arose.
Vance decided to test Baca's intentions.
"I guess you could say it was my henhouse that got robbed."
Andy shook his head and looked up. At six foot four, Howell towered over Andy's five-ten frame.
"That's not the way I see it. Captain. But I think we need to get you out of the henhouse for a while. I'm placing you and your staff on administrative leave."
Stunned, Howell reacted quickly.
"Is that necessary, Chief?"
"This job required inside knowledge. Until we get a handle on the case, everybody who works in this building is suspect."
"My people won't like it."
"And I don't like doing it," Andy replied, checking his watch. He needed to get this investigation under way pronto.
"I want you and your entire unit at headquarters in an hour to meet with Internal Affairs. A temporary plaindothes detail is on the way to relieve you until the IA investigation is concluded."
"I know my people, Chief. Nobody in my unit had anything to do with this."
"We're going to cover all the bases anyway. Captain.
You know the drill."
Howell nodded glumly.
"Who's running the investigation?"
"Kevin Kerney" Howell stifled a surprised expression.
"Is that wise, Chief? Kerney's new to the department and he has no command authority."
"He does now," Andy replied.
"When you meet with him, you'll be talking to the new deputy chief."
"Is the posting temporary?"
"No, it's not. Captain."
"You've jumped him over a lot of senior commanders."
Tm sure I'll get an earful from all of them," Andy replied.
"When the bitching is over, Captain-and it better be kept to a minimum-I expect everyone to cooperate with Chief Kerney."
Howell swallowed hard.
"I'll be glad to."
"I know you will, Captain."
Vance Howell left Andy alone in the office and walked down the hall thinking that there were going to be a number of rightly puckered assholes, including his own, tiptoeing around Andy and his new deputy chief. dog-tired and not in a good mood to begin with, Kerney crawled through the early morning rush-hour traffic on St. Francis Drive, pissed off with the congestion and the yuppies in their leather-lined, air-conditioned, four-wheel-drive sport utility vehicles used for fetching children from school, shopping excursions to Albuquerque malls, and getting up to Taos for skiing.
The changes in Santa Pc had turned the city into a seemingly endless array of strip malls, bedroom subdivisions, and gated communities for the rich.
The folks in places like Mountainair referred to the state capital as Santa Fake, and it rang true enough to make Kerney realize that the chamber of commerce growth mentality had won the war over those who wanted to preserve the tradition of the an dent city.
Nothing had stopped the greed.
After dealing with the crime scene unit at the Von Hewett Ranch and undergoing an interrogation about me shooting, Kerney had driven to the Albuquerque hospital where Nita had been transported. Although he had a brief confession in hand, he wanted to get a complete statement from Lassiter before the lawyers showed up to circle their wagons.
He had waited until she was out of the recovery room, in her hospital bed, and fully consdous before reading Nita her rights and tape-recording her confession.