The Racketeer Page 0,128

removed another cigar box from the briefcase. He paused for a second, lifted the lid, and took out a beautiful little gold ingot. He admired it, caressed it, then returned it to the box, which he then placed carefully in the safe. Another cigar box followed, then he quickly closed the safe, programmed the code, and closed the trapdoor.

Nattie's heart was pounding so violently he worried about shaking the entire closet, but he urged himself to stay calm. As he was leaving, the judge noticed the crack in the closet door and shoved it tight.

Around 7:00 p.m., he lit another cigar, poured a glass of white wine, and sat in a rocker on the porch to watch the sun fade over the mountains. After dark, he turned on the generator and puttered around the cabin until ten, when he turned it off and went to bed. As the cabin became still and quiet, Gene appeared from the woods and banged on the door. Who is it? Ray demanded angrily from inside. Gene said he was looking for his dog. Ray opened the door and they spoke through the screen. Gene explained he had a cabin about a mile away, on the other side of the lake, and his beloved dog, Yank, had disappeared. Ray was not the least bit friendly and said he had seen no dogs in the vicinity. Gene thanked him and left. When Nattie heard the banging and the conversation upstairs, he quietly sneaked out of the closet and left through a basement door. He was unable to relock the dead bolt, and the boys figured the judge would scratch his head and remain confused as to why the door wasn't properly locked. By then, they would be lost in the woods. The judge would search and search but would find no signs of entry, nothing missing, and would eventually forget about it.

Naturally, the brothers were stunned at what they had learned, and they began making plans to rob the safe. It would require an altercation with the judge, and probably violence, but they were determined to follow through. Two weekends passed and the judge stayed in Roanoke. Then three.

While watching the cabin, and the judge, Gene and Nattie had returned to their meth business because they were broke. Before they could get the gold, they were busted by DEA agents. Gene was killed, and Nattie went away to prison.

He waited five years before he strong-armed Judge Fawcett, tortured Naomi Clary, robbed the safe, and executed both of them.

"And who, exactly, is Nattie?" Westlake asks. All six of the men are staring at me.

"His name is Nathan Edward Cooley, and you'll find him in the city jail in Montego Bay, Jamaica. Take your time, he's not going anywhere."

"Might he also be known as Nathaniel Coley, your friend with the fake passport?"

"That's him. He's looking at twenty years in a Jamaican prison, so he might make this easy for you. My hunch is that Nattie will happily plead guilty to a life sentence in a U.S. prison, no parole of course, anything to get out of Jamaica. Offer him a deal, and you won't have to bother with a trial."

There is a long pause as they catch their collective breath. Finally, Vic asks, "Is there anything you have not thought of?"

"Sure. But I'd rather not share it with you."
Chapter 43
My storytelling talents hold them spellbound, and for an hour they pepper me with questions. I slog through the answers, and when I start to repeat myself, I get irritated. Give a bunch of lawyers the rich details of a mystery they've lost sleep over, and they can't help but ask the same question five different ways. My low opinion of Victor Westlake is raised somewhat when he says, "That's it. Meeting's over. I'm going to the bar."

I suggest the two of us have drinks alone, and we return to the same table by a pool. We order beers and gulp them when they arrive. "Something else?" he asks.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, there is something else. Something almost as big as the murder of a federal judge."

"Haven't you had enough for one day?"

"Oh yes, but I have one parting shot."

"I'm listening."

I take another swig and savor the taste. "If my time line is correct, Judge Fawcett was accepting and hiding pure gold in the middle of the uranium trial. The plaintiff was Armanna Mines, a consortium of companies with interests around the world. However, the majority partner