Ocean Prey (A Prey Novel #31) - John Sandford Page 0,25

don’t know him that well, but I do know that way back when he was busted, he was part of what the newspapers called the Blue Tuna Gang. There were five or six of them and he was the only one named John. You should be able to look him up.”

Lucas nodded, and asked, “You got anything else we should know, now that we’re best friends?”

“Nope.” Morris said, “But you lucked out talking to Weeks. As far as I know, he’s straight. There are a lot of crooked cops involved in the dope action down here, so if you go asking around about Magnus, he’ll know you’re coming. I wouldn’t even ask the probo. If I were you, I’d try to look at his files online, without him knowing.”

Lucas said, “Huh. You really think things are that shaky down here? Cop-wise?”

“Look. A cop busts Magnus, and he says, ‘I’ll give you a million bucks to go away. In cash. In an hour.’ The average cop salary down here is making maybe 70k, before taxes. I mean . . .”

“All right,” Lucas said.

* * *

“I can’t say it’s been a pleasure talking to you,” Bob said, “Weeks told us you’re dealing heroin and meth. Is that right?”

“Gotta make a living. I don’t recommend that people use the stuff. I’m a sales guy, a middleman,” Morris said. “They’re gonna get it one way or another.”

Bob: “Heroin and meth. You’re really a low-life piece of scum, Axel.”

Morris said, “Hey, I thought we were best friends now.” He flashed his charming smile back at Bob and ate another French fry. “You guys gonna give me a ride back to Bandit’s? I don’t do Uber. What? C’mon, don’t be little federal bitches about it.”

CHAPTER

SIX

At the hotel the next morning, Lucas and Bob were walking down a hallway toward the conference room, past a woman in a do-rag running a floor polisher. They were a few minutes early, and saw Weaver step out of an elevator alone, carrying a briefcase. Bob called out to him, and when they caught up, asked, “Are you doing the reward?”

Weaver nodded: “Yeah. They added up all the possibilities in Washington and figured they couldn’t lose. If we get nothing, they pay nothing, no change. If they do have to put up the fifty thousand, we’ve got a bucket of heroin to show for it and probably even more buckets. It pays for itself in PR.”

“That’s important,” Bob said, with an eye-roll.

“Maybe not for you, but it is for me,” Weaver said. “If I don’t get something, I’ll be wearing a ‘Fucked it up’ sign around my neck. I’d rather not retire for another ten years or so.” He checked them out—they were wearing jeans, knit shirts, and sport coats—and asked, “What happened to the Hawaiian shirts and shorts?”

Bob shrugged. “Got cold overnight. We’re gonna be on the street, some.”

Lucas: “Let me embarrass myself with a question. You’re sure of the guys on this task force? We won’t get any leaks?”

Weaver didn’t answer directly. Instead, he asked, “You get anything last night?”

“A couple things,” Lucas said. “If somebody leaks for any reason . . . even something bureaucratic, like trying to one-up the Marshals Service, we could have a tragedy. We’re talking about people who shot down three Coast Guardsmen in cold blood. A guy we talked to said the whole Miami narc community leaks like a sieve.”

“I’ll say a few words before we start,” Weaver said. “I’m very confident of these people, but I’ll say a few words.”

He led the way down the hall, and when he stepped into the conference room, Lucas hooked Bob’s arm and muttered, “We never heard of anyone called Magnus Elliot. Or John.”

Bob nodded: “Gotcha.”

* * *

When all the agents and the Coast Guard cop had settled into the conference room, joined by the Lauderdale cop who’d been missing the day before, Weaver looked around and said, “The marshals here have been scuffing around, talking to people. We’ll hear from them in a minute, but I want to warn everybody: if anyone talks about what is said in this room, and I find out, I’ll run you out of the FBI, I’ll run you out of the law enforcement profession, and, if I can, I’ll put you in jail. I don’t want you talking to anybody, including spouses, girlfriends, dead uncles. Nothing gets out. Is that clear?”

Everybody nodded and there was a shuffling of feet and annoyed glances passed around the room, and then Weaver