Deadly Lode (Trace Brandon Book 1) (53 page)

“
Let
’
s
clear Customs and
grab a cab,
”
Monroe said
.
“
We
’
ve got a meeting with Chief Inspector John Thomas in thirty minutes.
”

Both agents grabbed their carry
-
on luggage and
headed for
c
ustoms
.
They showed the
immigration officers
their FBI identification
,
and were out front at the cab
-
stand in less than five minutes.

“
Police
headquarters on Elgin, please,
”
Monroe
said
,
to
the cabdriver
.

In a few minutes the cab dropped them off in front of the Royal Cayman Island
p
olice headquarters.

“
Agents Monroe and Allen to see Chief Inspector Thomas, please,
”
Monroe said
,
to the
attractive female office
r
at the reception desk.

“
Right this way
,
gentlemen,
”
the officer replied.
“
The
c
hief
i
nspector is expecting you.
”

The female office led the two agents down a
hallway
and opened the door to the
c
hief
i
nspector
’s
office.

“
Go right in, gentlemen,
”
she said, gesturing with her left hand.

Chief Inspector Thomas got up from
his
chair and came around in front of his massive and paper
-
covered desk. The inspector stood about six feet tall
; he was,
trim with fair hair
and
freckles. And
,
Agent Monroe guessed, a more or less ongoing case of sunburn.

“
Chief Inspector Thomas at your service, gentlemen,
”
Thomas
said, extending
his right hand.

“
Agents Monroe and Allen,
sir
,
”
Monroe said, both show
ing
their badges
after they shook hands with the
c
hief
i
nspector.

“
Have a seat
,
fellows,
”
Thomas said, gesturing to two side chairs
.
“
So we
’
ve got a bad actor on the island?
”

Thomas
hik
ed
up his left trouser leg and s
at
on the edge of his desk.

“
Yes,
sir
. You do. I assume you
’
ve received the information from our New Orleans office?
”
Monroe asked.

“
Yes, Agent Monroe, we have,
”
Thomas replied.
“
And I must add
, your
Mr. Flannigan
, aka, Mr.
O
’
Connell
,
is at the very top of the
UK
fugitive list.
”

“
Understood,
sir
,
”
Monroe replied.
“
He
’
s
also a prime suspect in the recent bombing of a private aircraft over the Gulf of Mexico
,
and
the killing of a New Orleans police officer.
”

“
Ah, yes. The
small plane
bound for George Town out of Houston?
”
Thomas replied.
“
I hadn
’
t heard about the officer
. Sorry
.
”

“
Yes
,
sir
. We have an eyewitness putting
Flannigan
at the aircraft
,
just prior to take
-
off,
”
Allen replied.
“
And
,
as you eluded,
he
’
s wanted in the UK for his activities with the IRA.
”

“
We
’
ve had Mr. O
’
Connell under surveillance since we received your alert,
”
Thomas said.
“
We can pick him up at your convenience.
”

“
Would it be possible for us to be on-site for the arrest?
”
Monroe asked.

“
I shouldn
’
t think that would be a problem,
Agent Monroe
.
Give us a few hours to coordinate the
operation
. I assume you
’
re both armed?
”

“
Yes,
sir
,
”
Monroe replied
.
“
B
ut if you
’
ve got a couple extra vests, it would probably be a good idea.
”

“
Expecting some resistance, are we?
”
Thomas asked.

“
Sir
,
”
Monroe replied,
“
Flannigan
put three rounds in a very experienced New Orleans
d
etective before he skipped town. So, yes, I would expect the unexpected. He
’
s got nothing to lose.
”

Monroe and Allen checked into the
Colonial
, changed into tactical clothes
,
and waited for the
c
hief
i
nspector
’
s call. They didn
’
t have to wait long.

“
Special Agent Monroe, it
’
s Chief Inspector Thomas.
We
’
re ready to move. We
’
ll pick you up in five minutes
. A
re you ready?
”

“
Yes,
sir
, we are. We
’
ll be out in front of the entrance,
”
Monroe replied
, looking over at Agent Allen
.
“
Let
’
s go
, Wil
son
.
”

A police SUV pulled up near the hotel entrance
,
and Monroe and Allen climbed into the back
-
seat.

Chief Inspector Thomas turned to the two FBI agents
.
“
We
’
ve
sealed off the compound. There
’
s no way out unless he wants to swim to Cuba. We
’
ll be there in six or seven minutes.
”

Sean Flannigan,
aka
,
William O
’
Connell
,
was warming himself on a pool
-
side chaise lounge after doing thirty minutes of laps. He was just about to nod off when the RCIP stormed the compound.

“
That
’
s him by the pool
!
”
Agent Monroe shouted, pointing to the reclining figure.

Flannigan heard the shout and jumped up
,
looking around frantically.

“
Don
’
t move or we will shoot to kill!
”
Chief Inspector Thomas yelled.
“
Get on your knees and lock your hands behind your head.
”

Sean could see the
re
was no
escape. He
dropped to his knees and clasped his hands
behind his head
. One of the uniformed officers came up behind him and
quickly
cuffed his wrists.

“
Mr. O
’
Connell, or is it Flannigan?
”
Chief Inspector Thomas said.
“
You
’
re under arrest for the murders of Malcolm Trueblood and Detective Decker.
Please s
tand up.
”

“
You don
’
t have jurisdiction for crimes committed outside of the Cayman Islands,
”
Flannigan protested.

“
Maybe not,
”
Chief Inspector Thomas said, gesturing toward agents Monroe and Allen
.
“
B
ut these two gentlemen are with the FBI
, a
nd they do.
”

Flannigan looked at the two FBI agents
and nodded
in acquiescence.

“
Look,
for the record
,
I just want you to know the
plane
bombing
was strictly business
. A
nd t
he cop in New Orleans was just plain bad
á
dh
. . .
bad luck
. He recognized me and went for his piece. It was me or him
.
However, the
fuckin
’
Brits, now they
. . .
they
were a pleasure. I wish I
’
d killed a passel more.
”

Flannigan looked
directly
at Special Agent Monroe
and
grinned
sardonically
.
Then he opened his mouth as if he was going to say more
,
but instead used his
tongue
to
pr
y the cap off a
hollow molar at the back of his mouth
. Flannigan
bit down hard on the rubber
-
cased glass vial of potassium cyanide. A small amount of white foam
containing tiny flecks of glass oozed from his mouth
as
he
crumpled to the ground and
died.

“
Jesus,
”
Agent Monroe
said,
dropping
to Flannigan
’
s side.
“
A cyanide amp
o
ule.
”

C
hapter
5
9

M
y cell phone went off
at
about ten in the morning.

“
Mr. Brandon, Special Agent Beau Monroe
. H
ave you got a minute?
”

“
Yes,
sir
, I
’
ve always got time for the FBI.
”

“
Uh-huh. I promised I
’
d keep you updated on our efforts to arrest Mr. Flannigan.
”

“
Yes,
sir
. Did you get him?
”

“
Yes and no. With the aid of the Cayman Island authorities
,
we grabbed him at Mr. McSweeny
’
s condo.
”

“
Man, that
’
s good news.
”

“
Well, the good news is
,
we arrested him. The bad news is
,
he had a cyanide
capsule
hidden in a hollow molar. He was able to bite down on it before we could stop him.
H
e died instantaneously.
”

“
Damn, just like
Herman
Goering
. D
id he say anything about Malco
l
m?
”

“
Just that it was only business.
”

“
Did he implicate the
Pantelli
s in any way?
”

“
Nope
. H
e took any information he
may have had with him.
Which leaves
us with no living witnesses.
W
e
’
d also been working
on turning
a low
-
level drug dealer doing time in Louisiana. He claimed he could tie the
Pantelli
s to Rosenburg
’
s murder
, b
ut he
’
s dead too. K
illed the day after our last meeting with him.
”

“
Damn
, the
Pantelli
s don
’
t leave
any
loose ends, do they?
”

“
No, and neither do we. Do you mind telling me why you and McSweeny met with the
Pantelli
s
,
in Vegas?
”

“
N
o, I guess
I
don
’
t
,
”
I said, ex
haling
softly
.
“
T
he
Pantelli
s
asked to meet with me because they
’
d been
approached by
a Chinese uranium company
who wanted to buy t
heir
Montana Creek Mining
shares.
T
he
fly in the buttermilk being, the
deal
hinged on
me
agreeing to sell my
control block to the Chinese. The
Pantelli
s
asked
m
e to come to Vegas to discuss the Chinese proposal.
I
took
McSweeny
with me as back
-
up
.
”

“
And?
”

“
I told them I
currently
had no interest
in
selling my shares to the Chinese
,
o
r anybody else.
”

“
How
’
d the
y
take it?
”

“
I don
’
t think they were too happy about. Especially after I mentioned that if anything happened to me, like an explosion or eating a poison tree frog, all my shares would go to my alma mater
’
s general fund.
”

Agent Monroe laughed
.
“
P
oison tree frog?
”

“
Yeah,
well
,
I wanted them to know I
knew
they killed Rosenburg
,
and probably Malcolm.
”

“
You like to live dangerously,
Mr. Brandon
?
”

“
No, not really
, but
they
pissed me off.
”

“
Well, with all the suspects dead, we
’
re going to have a tough time making any kind of
a murder
case against the
Pantelli
s.
All we can do for now
,
is keep an eye on their moves and see if we can nail them on some kind of lesser charge. When all else fails, there
’
s always the IRS and the SEC.
Maybe we can nail them on some kind of
tax evasion charge, or a securities violation.
”

“
Hey,
that
’
s how you finally nailed
Al C
a
pone.
”

“
Exactly so, Mr. Brandon. Watch your
back,
and stay in touch.
”

“
Roger that.
”

I hung up and called Cyrus.

“
Cyrus, it
’
s Trace
. G
ot a sec?
”

“
Sure
,
Trace. Anything new from the fucking big Indians?
”
Cyrus
asked
,
with a chuckle.

“
As a matter of fact, that
’
s why I
’
m calling. They caught Flannigan
slash
O
’
Connell at your condo.
”

“
Damn good
news
. Are the sending
th
e
bastard
back to the States?
”

“
Yep
,
in a body bag.
”

“
Jesus,
t
hey had to shoot him
?
”

“
Nope.
The son
of
a
bitch pulled a Herman Goering and bit down on a
c
yanide capsule.
Agent
Monroe said he was dead before he hit the deck. And get this, the FBI had a snitch in a
Louisiana
p
en
who
was
evidently going to co
operate
,
and testify against the
Pantelli
s.
”

“
Let me guess
. H
e
’
s dead too?
”

“
Good guess
. Killed after Agent Monroe
’
s last meeting with him.
”

“
I told you, Trace. The
Pantelli
s have a long reach
,
and
murder is just a tool to them.
What else did Monroe have to say?
”

“
He said to watch my ass and call him if the
Pantelli
s made any kind of move against me or Montana Creek Mining.
He also
mentioned possibly being able to nail them on some kind of
tax evasion or
securities violation.
”

“
Hmmm, interesting
idea
.
I don
’
t have a clue about their tax situation. And
s
o far
,
I don
’
t see where they
’
ve violated any SEC reg
.’s
.
However, the situation
could change in the future.
Al or Pino
don’t
have a lot of
experience with securities
.
M
aybe they
’
ll do something stupid.
”

“
One can only hope,
”
I
said with
a laugh
.
“
B
ut we do have an ace in the hole.
”

“
And what would that be?
”

“
You hold the
Pantelli
’
s voting proxy for nearly three more years.
”

“
True enough. If properly played, the proxy could well be a trump card. O
ne other thing
,
I doubt we
’
ve heard the last of Lei Chang and his band of immortals.
”

“
Agreed.
Chang
gave the
Pantelli
s ten days to respond to his offer
,
and
their time is
about up.
I suspect when the
y
turn him down, he
’
ll be contacting me again.
”

“
Well
,
our stock price is holding pretty steady in the high fives to low sixes
, a
nd we should get our listing on the T
oronto Exchange
shortly
. The listing
will allow some of the larger funds to buy our shares.
”

“
Yeah, it will be interesting to see what Chang
,
and the
Pantelli
s
,
do next.
”

I didn
’
t have to wait too long
to find out. A
bout forty
-
eight hours later I received an
e-mail
from Chang
,
requesting a
meeting in Spokane followed by a site visit to the Sullivan Mine.
He said he was bringing along his chief mining engineer, Mr. Zhoa.
I guess he wanted a firsthand look at
his
investment.

I contacted Cyrus
and got his okay to use his offices for
the initial meeting. Will Coffee and I would drive over to Spokane for the meeting
. Following the meeting, we
’
d haul
Chang and
Zhoa
,
up to the Sullivan Mine.
For this trip,
I decided to leave my Bronco at home and rented a Suburban from a
n Ellensburg
car
-
rental agency. With the Suburban
,
I could get everybody
and their gear
in one vehicle
.

A few days later, Will and I left Ellensburg at
8:00
a.m. and headed east on Interstate
90
,
to Spokane. We got to the airport before Chang
’
s plane landed and met him and
Z
hoa
at baggage claim.

From the airport, I drove the entourage to Cyrus
’
s
office in the
Inland Empire
Building
in downtown Spokane
. I parked the Suburban
,
and we walked
t
o the lobby and took the elevator to the sixth floor.