a scrap of paper from a pocket and began punching numbers on the phone.
Foltrigg met Wally in the corner, away from the
agent. “It’s a great idea,” Wally said. I’m sure the Juvenile Court judge is just some local yokel who’ll listen to K.O. and do whatever he wants, don’t you think?”
Trumann had Mr. Lewis on the phone. Foltrigg watched him while listening to Wally. “Maybe, but regardless, we get the kid in court quickly and I think he’ll fold. If not, he’s in custody, under our control and away from his lawyer. I like it.”
They whispered for a while as Trumann talked to K.O. Lewis. Trumann nodded at them, gave the okay sign with a big smile, and hung up. “He’ll do it,” he said proudly. “He’ll catch an early morning flight to Memphis and meet with Fink. Then they’ll get with George Ord and descend on the judge.” Trumann was walking toward them, very proud of himself. “Think about it. The U.S. attorney on one side, K. O. Lewis on the other, and Fink in the middle, first thing in the morning when the judge gets to the office. They’ll have the kid talking in no time.”
Foltrigg flashed a wicked smile. He loved those moments when the power of the federal government shifted into high gear and landed hard on small, unsuspecting people. Just like that, with one phone call, the second in command of the FBI had entered the picture. “It just might work,” he said to his boys. “It just might work.”
IN ONE CORNER OF THE SMALL DEN ABOVE THE GARAGE,
Reggie flipped through a thick book under a lamp. It was midnight, but she couldn’t sleep, so she curled under a quilt and sipped tea while reading a book Glint had found titled Reluctant Witnesses. As far as law books
go, it was quite tmii. £>UL me iaw w