Lethal(59)

“Then the DEA will get pissed off and blame us for sending every dealer underground. Same with the ATF, Customs and Border Protection, Homeland Security. Everybody will get skittish and back off stings they had planned, and we’ll all slink back to square one with nothing but our dicks in our hands.

“If you bring me in now, that’s what will happen. After a week or so, when things have cooled down, the smugglers will return to supplying their customers. They’ll go on killing each other, plus a few innocent bystanders now and then whenever a deal goes south, and those casualties will be on your head, and on mine for not finishing my job.”

Hamilton waited several beats, then said, “Bravo, Coburn. That was a very impassioned speech, and I hear you.” He paused again. “Okay. You stay. But as good as you are, you can’t clean this up by yourself, especially now that you’re a suspected mass murderer. Badges down there would love to get in their target practice on you. You’ll need backup. VanAllen will provide it.”

“Nix. The Bookkeeper has informers in every police department, sheriff’s office, city hall, and courthouse. Every-freaking-body is on the take.”

“You’re saying you think VanAllen—”

“I’m saying give me forty-eight hours.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“All right, thirty-six.”

“What for?”

Coburn focused more sharply on Honor. “I’m on to something that could blow the top off.”

“What is it?”

“I can’t say.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“You pick.”

“Shit.”

Honor could sense Hamilton’s frustration. Through the phone, she heard him blow out another gust of breath.

Finally he said, “This something involves Mrs. Gillette, doesn’t it?”

Coburn said nothing.

“I’m not a rookie either, Coburn,” Hamilton said. “You don’t really expect me to believe that you chose her house, out of all the houses in coastal Louisiana, to hide in, and that while you were there, you just up and decided to ransack the place. You can’t expect me to believe that without some über-strong motivating factor she came with you of her own free will after watching you fatally shoot a family friend in her living room.

“And you certainly can’t expect me to believe that you, of all people, have taken a widow and child under your wing out of the goodness of your heart, when it has come under debate many times whether or not you even possess a heart.”

“Aw now, that really hurts my feelings.”

“I know Mrs. Gillette’s late husband was a police officer. I know that the recently deceased Fred Hawkins was his best friend. Now, call me crazy, but the coincidence of that has got my gut instinct churning, and even on an off day, it’s usually pretty damn reliable.”

Coburn dropped the sarcasm. “You’re not crazy.”

“Okay. What’s she got?”

“I don’t know.”

“Does she know who The Bookkeeper is?”

“She says no.”

“Do you believe her?”

Coburn stared hard at her. “Yeah.”

“Then what’s she sitting on?”

“I don’t know.”

“Stop jerking me around, Coburn.”

“I’m not.”

Hamilton swore under his breath. “Fine, don’t tell me. When you’re back in Washington, we’ll discuss your insubordination in addition to the long list of offenses that you—”

“You’re using scare tactics now? Go ahead, kick me out of your stinking bureau. See if I give a f*ck.”

Hamilton added even more heat to his voice. “I’ll supply VanAllen with whatever it takes to find you and bring you in, by force if necessary, for the safety of the woman and child.”

Coburn’s jaw turned to iron. “Hamilton, you do that, and they’ll likely die. Soon.”

“Look, I know VanAllen. I appointed him myself. I grant you, he’s no dynamo, but—”

“Then what is he?”

“A bureaucrat.”

“That’s a given. What’s he like?”

“Mild-mannered. Beleaguered, even. His personal life is shit. He’s got a special needs son, a tragic case who ought to be in a perpetual care home but isn’t.”

“How come?”

“Tom doesn’t discuss it. If I were guessing, I’d say the expense makes it out of the question.”

Again Coburn pulled that thoughtful frown that Honor was beginning to recognize. “Give me forty-eight hours. During that time, you check out VanAllen. If you can convince me that he’s honest, I’ll come in. With luck, I’ll have got the goods on The Bookkeeper by then.”

“In the meantime, what are you going to do with Mrs. Gillette and the child?”

“I don’t know.”

“Let me talk to her again.”

Coburn handed the phone to her.

“I’m here, Mr. Hamilton.”

“Mrs. Gillette. Have you been following our conversation?”

“Yes.”

“I apologize for some of the language.”