The Racketeer

“If he’s so smart, why would he tell you all of this?” Westlake asks.

“Simple. Like a lot of inmates, Qui

They have to believe I’m telling the truth. If Qui

CHAPTER 13

Six hours later, two black FBI agents paid the cover charge at the Velvet Club, three blocks away from the Norfolk Naval Base. They were dressed like construction workers and mixed easily with the crowd, which was half white, half black, half sailors, and half civilians. The dancers were also half-and-half, affirmative action all around. Two surveillance vans waited in the parking lot, along with a dozen more agents. Qui

He was handcuffed and taken to the FBI office in Norfolk. In an interrogation room, the two black agents served him coffee and began a friendly chat. The crime was nothing more than an escape, and he had no defense. He was dead guilty and headed back to prison.

They asked Qui

Next door, in a larger interrogation room, two of the FBI’s veteran interrogators were listening to the conversation. Another team was upstairs, waiting and listening. If things went well, it would be a long night for Qui

As soon as Qui

Within an hour, the FBI had a search warrant for the trailer and the Hummer, which was towed to a police lot in Norfolk, opened and examined. The main door of the mobile home was locked but flimsy. One good jolt with a bat hammer and the agents were inside. The place was remarkably neat and clean. Working with a purpose, six agents combed the place from side to side, twelve feet, and from end to end, fifty feet. In the only bedroom, between the mattress and the box spring, they found Qui

Handling it carefully, the agents immediately assumed it was the same handgun used to kill Judge Fawcett and Naomi Clary.

The key chain included a key to a mini–storage unit two miles away. In a drawer in the kitchen, an agent found Qui

The file also included a North Carolina car title issued to Jackie Todd for the 2008 Hummer H3. No liens were noted; thus it was safe to assume Mr. Todd had paid in full, on the spot, either in cash or by check. No checkbook or bank statements were found in the drawer; none were expected. A bill of sale for the vehicle revealed that it was purchased on February 9, 2011, from a used-car lot in Roanoke. February 9 was two days after the bodies were found.

Fresh search warrant in hand, two agents entered Jackie Todd’s tiny unit at Macon’s Mini-Storage, under the careful and suspecting gaze of Mr. Macon himself. Concrete floor, unpainted cinder-block walls, a solitary lightbulb stuck in the ceiling. There were five cardboard boxes stacked against one wall. A quick look revealed some old clothes, a pair of muddy combat boots, a 9-millimeter Glock pistol with the registration number filed off, and, finally, a metal box stuffed neatly with cash. The agents took all five cardboard boxes, thanked Mr. Macon for his hospitality, and hurried away.

Simultaneously, the name Jackie R. Todd was being run through the National Crime Information Center computer system. There was a hit, in Roanoke, Virginia.

At midnight, Qui

They asked about his escape and movements in the days that followed it, questions and answers that had already been covered by his first interrogation. Qui