He glanced at his watch, brushed a crumpled drinking-straw wrapper off the table along with the crumbs of the last patron’s meal, touched a splotch of something sticky.
The side entrance, on Douglass Street, opened, letting in a rush of cold air. It was Glenn Yeager, in a black North Face fleece ski jacket and an oversize pair of sunglasses. He went right up to Danny’s table without looking around.
“Bad cop,” he announced in a low, guttural voice, “will not be joining us. In answer to your question.” He removed his sunglasses. His eyes looked slightly out of focus.
“Bummer,” Danny said.
Yeager removed a glasses case from a zippered side pocket of his fleece, took out steel-rimmed bifocals, put them on as delicately as a surgeon doing microsurgery. He glanced down at Danny’s feet, at the gym bag containing the device. “See, I told you that thing was idiot-proof.”
“How did you know it worked?”
“It uploaded the data remotely, right after you finished.” He shimmied his hands. “The magic of the Intertubes.”
“So now you have everything you need,” Danny said brightly. “You have the mother lode.”
“Well, we have some, anyway. But a lot of the contents of his BlackBerry were encrypted.”
“That surprises you?”
“Not at all. The cartels have gotten really sophisticated about their comms. And they don’t use BlackBerrys for the really sensitive stuff. They use the Internet. Still, they like to use BlackBerry’s PIN-to-PIN messaging system for routine communication because it doesn’t go through a server. Doesn’t leave any digital bread crumbs. We didn’t capture much of his e-mails, but at least we got the phone numbers of contacts in his address book.”
Danny shrugged. “So we’re done here.” A statement, not a question.
Yeager smiled thinly. “We were delighted to hear about Aspen.”
“To hear what about Aspen?”
“That you’re joining the Galvins there this weekend.”
Danny stared at him for a few seconds. Then he hunched forward. “If you have some kind of bug in his limo, what the hell do you need me for?”
Yeager’s face was impassive.
“I didn’t give Galvin an answer. I haven’t decided yet.”
Something about Yeager’s eyes.
“You son of a bitch,” Danny said. “Did you plant some kind of bug on me?”
Yeager shook his head slowly. “Come on. Anyway, point is, he’s meeting someone in Aspen. We think it’s someone quite high up in the cartel hierarchy.”
“In Aspen?”
“The ski weekend is probably just a cover. They’re extremely careful about locations and venues. If they’ve chosen to meet in Aspen, it’s because they know they can do it without being monitored. Any trackers will be spotted at a distance. They’ll stand out. The terrain in Aspen works well that way.”
“So why don’t you fly out there and tail him? You don’t need me.”
“That’s not how it’s going to play out. You’ll be with him. You’ll have access to him. We want to know who he’s meeting. If we get that, it’s huge. The definitive link between Galvin and the cartel we’ve been trying to nail down for three years now.”
“You don’t get it, do you? This is a family ski weekend, not some Iron John initiation. Tom Galvin and I aren’t going to be sitting around nude in a drum circle in the snow, howling at the moon.”
He smiled. “He trusts you.”
“I’m not doing it. I almost got caught downloading his BlackBerry. The fact that I’m still alive is a miracle. I’m not doing any more.”
Yeager spread his hands on the table. His left hand drew back when it touched the sticky gunk. “Danny, you’re understandably nervous. I get that. But if he were suspicious about you, he wouldn’t have invited you to spend time with his family.”
“Unless he has some other plan.”
“Come on, now. You’re overwhelmed, I can see that. I completely sympathize. Every confidential informant I’ve ever worked with goes through a crisis of nerves. Look, Danny, you’re not alone. You have the full force of the US government behind you.”
“And that’s supposed to reassure me? The fact is, the more often I do this, the greater my odds of getting caught. I got you the contents of his BlackBerry. Now I’m done. We’re done.”
He stood up. There was a steady stream of people entering and leaving, getting late breakfasts or early lunches. The MIT kid was gone. A couple had taken a table nearby, both of them in their midforties with matching bushes of Chia Pet hair.
“Sit down, please.”
“I’ve cooperated with you more than was reasonable. More than was safe, frankly.”
“You’re done when we say you’re done,” Yeager said, softly but with steel in his voice. Then, more gently: “You’ve signed a contract. If you renege, our deal is off. The agreement’s dead. You’ll be indicted and charged and you’ll have no leverage whatsoever.”
“Hold on-”
“You’ll be in the worst of all possible worlds. Not only will you be indicted, but the cartels-they’re going to realize you cooperated. And we’re not going to be able to help you. Not at all. No witness protection program. No protection at all. If you’re lucky, you spend your life in jail. But far more likely, you get killed. Is this really what you want?”
“The information I already got you? That doesn’t count?”
“Read over your copy of the agreement you signed. Until we have enough to justify an arrest warrant for your friend, you’re still on the hook. You don’t get to walk away until we’re finished. You quit now, it’s like you never cooperated in the first place. You agreed in writing to testify.”
Danny sat back down. “Testify? Do you have any idea what would happen to me if ever I testified in court? If I even make it that long? My daughter would be without a father.”
“In all my years, I’ve never had an informant killed. Never. Not once.”
“It’s happened. You know it.”
“Listen to me, Danny. We’re in the process of building an overwhelming case against Galvin, a case that’s going to be so strong that he’ll have no choice but to plead out. These cartel guys, they never go to trial. Once you get us what we need-once we have probable cause and we get an arrest warrant for that asshole-we’ll have enough to put him away. It’ll be so strong that I doubt we’ll even need you to testify. We’ll do everything we can to minimize your role in this. We’re not going to put you in harm’s way. I mean, look-you do us no good dead.”
“That’s sweet.”
“On the other hand, you walk away now, you’re committing suicide.”
“Because you’re going to leak, is that it?”
“No. You walk away, we’ll have no choice but to indict you, and it’s going to be all over the indictment-which is, by the way, a public document-that you cooperated with us. It’s like painting a target on your chest.”
“And if I do this? Is that it? The end?”
“Absolutely.”
“How do I know you’re not going to charge me anyway?”
“We’re not interested in you. You’re not just a small fish, you’re plankton, for God’s sake.”
“I want that in writing. I want a letter of immunity.”
“We can’t get you a letter of immunity if you haven’t been indicted.”
“But the US Attorney can.”
“And what makes you so sure of that?”
Danny waggled his hands. “The magic of the Intertubes.”
“Well, let me assure you, that never happens. Maybe on TV, but not in reality. You’re going to have to take me at my word. You’re going to have to trust us.”
Danny stood up again. “Well, I don’t.”
“This is not going to end well.”
“I’ll take my chances,” Danny said, and he walked out without turning back.
38
Dr. Mendoza entered the lobby of the Executive Suites Hotel in Oakland, California. Off the lobby was the bar-lounge, a dismal and subdued place, and sitting at the bar-a long, shallow half-moon topped with fake granite-was a somber collection of people. A couple in their late sixties, both florid-faced, who appeared to be married and bored with each other. Three businessmen in their thirties, probably here for some convention, all staring blankly at the football game on the TV mounted just above them. They all seemed transient and lonely.