The Bishop's Pawn (Cotton Malone #13)(85)

He came to his feet.

“I suggest we hurry. It’s a long walk and time is running out.”





Chapter Fifty-two


He was right about the walk.

We retraced our previous path down Main Street, then turned right and headed through Tomorrowland, swinging around to the back side of the park where a section had been cordoned off, under construction. An eight-foot-high wooden wall separated the park from the work site, decorated with elaborate Disney murals. Valdez headed for a gate that opened through the wall, a wooden door with a simple keyed lock.

“It was easy to pick,” he said as we headed through and he closed the panel behind us.

I understood his problem. He would have preferred to leave the premises with both Coleen and Foster. But that might have proven a problem. Coleen came in willingly. Doubtful she’d leave that way. And Foster would only cooperate to keep her safe. Exiting the Magic Kingdom would not be easy. It required either a bus, monorail, or boat, all loaded with people, and the walking distances were impressive. Too many things could go wrong, so he’d chosen to take a stand within the gates.

I looked around. Some kind of new attraction was being built. There were piles of bricks and wire mesh fashioned into various shapes, like boulders, stacked one on top of another, awaiting mortar. A ladder leaned against one of the unfinished walls. No ceilings. Lights from the park spilled in from overhead, illuminating the scene in a dim glow. Everything was also wet from the rain. Coleen sat on the damp concrete, her back to an unfinished wooden wall, her hands bound behind her. Foster was in the same position to her left. One of the men from the inflatable boat back in the Dry Tortugas stood guard with a gun. Coleen’s and her father’s legs were unrestrained, but they were both gagged with strips of duct tape. The two manila envelopes I’d left with Foster lay in the preacher’s lap.

Valdez relieved his man of the gun and told him to leave.

“Now it’s just us. Oliver and Jansen are dead.” He motioned at Foster with the gun. “That leaves only me and you.”

I doubted Foster was going to say a thing about the cassette he’d listened to on the way here. That was the last thing he wanted Coleen to know about, and Valdez had no idea the tape existed. I’d left it in the truck, still in the player, protected by locked doors among a zillion other cars in a vast parking lot.

“First off,” Valdez said. “I need the gun you have.”

He was looking at me.

I hesitated.

He clicked the hammer of his weapon into place and aimed it straight at Coleen. “Surely you comprehend what I’m capable of.”

Absolutely. So I reached back and found the gun.

“Bring it out holding the barrel,” he said.

I did as ordered and handed it over. He tossed it away, gone in the debris.

“This entire situation has been a problem,” he said. “Just a simple trade. That’s all I wanted. Instead, we’ve had nothing but turmoil.”

My sense of humor had dulled. “You’re a murdering bastard.”

He nodded. “I am that. But people have long had a need for my services, your own government one of those.”

I glanced over at Coleen. As Valdez focused on me I saw her arms tense, her shoulders shift. She was working on her bindings, trying not to draw attention, and perhaps having some success. Her eyes told me to keep him occupied.

“You never wanted any credit?” I asked Valdez.

“My ego requires no such stroking. I prefer compensation.”

“You told us back in St. Augustine that you read all of Ray’s books. You found him. Recruited him. Encouraged him. He really had no idea he was being used?”

Valdez shrugged. “Not even a hint. It was easy to push him along. Hate filled him. As did the need to be somebody. He just lacked opportunity, which I provided. I read those books with a smile on my face. Nearly every word in them was a lie. Until the day he died he unknowingly did exactly what we wanted.”

I could see that Coleen was still working away, trying hard to keep her arms and shoulders still.

“Why not just kill him afterward, like Ruby did to Oswald?” I asked.

“I would have, if he’d made it to Africa. But not only did Hoover want to kill King, he wanted the credit for capturing the killer. He told me that when we met that night, in his house. Nobody then could accuse him of prejudice toward King. But that capture had to be a corpse. Jack Ruby, to his credit, never explained why he killed Oswald, and died quickly in prison. Ray, on the other hand, lived a long time and could not keep his mouth shut. Thankfully, he was a pathological liar.”

I was keeping him talking, buying Coleen time, but I was worried about the choice of subjects. We were drifting closer and closer to forbidden topics. Foster’s eyes pleaded with me not to raise any questions about him. But I was more concerned with what Valdez was about to do. He had not brought us here to chat.

Valdez flicked the muzzle of his weapon toward Foster. “Get those envelopes.”

A tingle of apprehension ran down my spine.

I walked over and retrieved them.

“Open them.”

I tore open the sealed flaps and removed the stacks of paper inside.

Each sheet was blank.

He chuckled. “I thought as much. I knew you wouldn’t bring that information along. I told Oliver, but he didn’t believe me. You still have my files.”