The Racketeer

They carefully reconstructed his movements over the past three months, and Qui

“I believe it was six thousand.”

“Right, right.”

Both agents scribbled furiously as if they believed every single word uttered by their subject. Qui

“So, Qui

“I guess.”

“How much of this have you spent?” Pankovits asked.

Qui

“When you were ru

“I didn’t rent them. Someone else did, gave me the keys. My job was to drive carefully, slowly, and not get stopped by the cops.”

Fair enough, and both agents happily concurred. “Did you buy a vehicle?” Pankovits asked without looking up from his note taking.

“No,” Qui

Of course not.

At the Freezer in Roanoke, Victor Westlake sat before a large screen, frozen at the image of Qui

“No way,” mumbled one of the other four. “This guy’s too smart for this. He knows we’ll find the trailer, the wallet, the fake ID, the Hummer.”

“Maybe not,” mumbled another. “Right now, it’s just an escape. He’s thinking we have no clue about the murder. This is nothing serious.”

“I agree,” said another. “I think he’s betting, playing the odds. He thinks he can survive a few questions, then get hauled back to jail and then to prison. He’s thinking he’ll call his cousin at some point and tell him to grab everything.”

“Wait and see,” said Westlake. “Let’s see how he reacts when the first bomb hits.”

At 2:00 a.m., Qui

Delocke stood and escorted him out of the room and down the hall. Another agent loitered about, a show of force. Five minutes later, Qui

Pankovits said, “It’s rather late, Qui

“I’d rather be here than in the jail,” he said sadly. “How much more time you think I’ll get?” he asked.

Delocke replied, “Don’t know, Qui

“You know, Jesse, I sorta miss the camp. Wasn’t so bad after all.”

“Why’d you leave it?”

“Stupid. Why? Because I could. Just walk away and nobody seemed to care.”

“We interview twenty-five guys a year who walk away from a federal camp. ‘Stupid,’ I think, is the best word.”

Pankovits shuffled some papers and said, “Now, Qui

“Right.”

“And this is the complete story, right? Nothing left out? You’re telling us everything?”

“Yep.”

The two agents stiffened somewhat and frowned. Pankovits said, “What about Roanoke, Qui

Qui

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

Delocke opened a file, sca

Qui

Delocke continued: “Really? Well, it looks like Mr. Jackie R. Todd was arrested on Tuesday night, February 8, at a bar in Roanoke. Public drunk, assault. The police report says he got in a fight with some other drunks and spent the night in jail. Next morning, he posted a cash bond of $800 and walked out.”

“Wasn’t me.”

“Is that so?” Delocke slid across a sheet of paper, and Qui

“Not much doubt about it, Qui

Qui

“Of course not, Qui

“You’re not the first cops I’ve lied to.”

“Lying to the FBI can get you five years.”

“Okay, I fibbed a little.”

“No surprise there, but now we can’t believe anything. I guess we’ll have to start over.”

Delocke said, “On February 9, one Jackie Todd walked into a used-car lot in Roanoke and paid $24,000 cash for a 2008 Hummer H3. This ring a bell, Qui

“No. Wasn’t me.”

“Didn’t think so.” Delocke slid across a copy of the bill of sale. “And you’ve never seen this before, have you?”

Qui

Pankovits snapped, “Come on, Qui

“Where’s the crime in paying cash for a vehicle?”

“None whatsoever,” Pankovits said. “But you weren’t supposed to have that much cash at that point.”

“Maybe I was wrong with some of the dates and some of the cash payments. I can’t remember everything.”

“Do you remember where you bought the guns?” Delocke asked.

“What guns?”

“The Smith & Wesson .38 we found in your trailer and the Glock 9-millimeter we found in your storage unit, about two hours ago.”

“Stolen guns,” Pankovits added helpfully. “More federal offenses.”

Qui