The Guardians(67)

“I may have heard about it.”

“How could you not hear about it?” Frost snaps sharply and takes a step closer.

“A lot of fights at Garvin,” Adam says defensively.

Thagard asks, “You didn’t see Lane and Drummik attack Quincy Miller?”

“No.”

“We have an informant who says you did. Says you were right there, but the reason you didn’t see anything was because you didn’t want to. Says you were the lookout. Says you’re well known as one of the Deacons’ favorite gofers.”

Adam exhales mightily as if sucker punched in the gut. He wipes his forehead again and tries in vain to smile as if amused. “No way, man, no way.”

Thagard says, “Let’s cut the bullshit, Adam. We have search warrants and we have collected all of your financial crap. We know you have nine thousand dollars in the bank, which is quite impressive for a guy making twelve bucks an hour and whose wife makes ten for part-time work, a guy with two kids, a guy who’s never inherited shit from a relative, a guy who spends at least two thousand a month just on nice wheels and a nice house, not to mention groceries and the phone bills. You’re living way above your means, Adam, and we know, from our informant, that you pick up extra dough running drugs for the Deacons. We can prove that in a court tomorrow.”

They could not, but Adam certainly didn’t know the difference.

Frost takes the hand-off smoothly with “You’re going to be indicted, Adam, federal court. The U.S. Attorney in Orlando is working on it now, grand jury comes in tomorrow. But we’re not going after the guards. Most of them peddle goods back and forth, pick up some extra cash. The warden doesn’t really care because he wants his inmates stoned. They behave better when they have trouble walking. You know the drill, Adam. We couldn’t care less about the contraband. We’re on to something much more important. The attack on Quincy Miller was a contract for hire, a hit ordered by someone on the outside. That makes it a conspiracy, and that makes it federal.”

Adam’s eyes water and he wipes them with a forearm. “I ain’t done nothing. You can’t indict me.”

Frost says, “Gee, we’ve never heard that before.”

Thagard says, “The U.S. Attorney will grind you to a pulp, Adam. You don’t stand a chance. He’ll make sure the prison fires you immediately. There goes your salary, there go your bribes, all that cash. Then you’ll lose this cute little monster truck with the fat tires and ghetto rims, and your house, and, shit, Adam, it’s going to be awful.”

“You’re full of shit,” he says, trying to get tough but his voice cracks. They almost feel sorry for him. “You can’t do this.”

Frost says, “Oh, we do it all the time, Adam. If you’re indicted, it’ll take two years to get you to trial, more if the U.S. Attorney so chooses. He doesn’t care if you’re guilty or innocent, he just wants to ruin you if you don’t cooperate.”

Adam’s head jerks back as his eyes grow big. “Cooperate?”

Frost and Thagard exchange grave looks as if they’re not sure they should proceed. Thagard leans in and says, “You’re a small fish, Adam. Always have been, always will be. The U.S. Attorney couldn’t care less about you and your dipshit little bribery scheme. He wants the Deacons, and he wants to know who paid for the hit on Quincy Miller. You play ball with us, we play ball with you.”

“You want me to snitch?”

“No. We want you to inform. Big difference. Gather information from your buddies, pass it along to us. You find out who ordered the hit and we’ll forget about an indictment.”

“They’ll kill me,” he says, and finally bursts into tears. He sobs loudly into his hands as Frost and Thagard look around. Cars pass on the county road but no one bothers to look.

After a few minutes, he pulls himself together. Thagard says, “They will not kill you, Adam, because they will not know what you’re doing. We handle informants all the time, we know the game.”

Frost says, “And, if things get too dangerous, Adam, we’ll get you out and get you a job in a federal joint. Twice the pay, twice the benefits.”

Adam looks at them with red eyes and asks, “Can we keep this quiet? I mean, no one can know about this, not even my wife.”

With the word “we” a deal is struck. Frost says, “Of course, Adam. You think we tell folks about our confidential informants? Come on, man. We wrote the book on handling informants.”

For a long time nothing is said as Adam stares at the gravel and occasionally wipes fluids from his face. They watch him and are almost sympathetic. He says, “Can I think about this? Gimme some time.”

“No,” Frost says. “We don’t have time. Things are moving fast, Adam. If Quincy dies then you’ll be on the hook for capital murder, federal style.”

“What’s the charge now?”

“Attempted murder. Conspiracy. Thirty years max, and the U.S. Attorney will go for every last day of it.”

He shakes his head and appears ready for more tears. His voice breaks as he says, “And if I play ball, as you like to say?”

“No indictment. You walk, Adam. Don’t be a fool.”

Frost closes the deal with “This is one of those life-altering moments, Adam. You make the right decision right now and your life goes on. The bad one, and you’re gonna be locked up with the same savages you’ve been guarding.”