and lighting equipment, using an arcane jargon.
“Kill the brute and hit the inkies. Bring a baby over here…”
They were getting ready to put Thomas Colfax’s testimony on film.
“It’s extra insurance,” District Attorney Di Silva had argued. “We know that no one can get to him, but it will be good to have it on the record, anyway.” And the others had gone along with him.
The only person absent was Thomas Colfax. He would be brought in at the last minute, when everything was in readiness for him.
Just like a goddamn movie star.
Thomas Colfax was having a meeting in his cell with David Terry of the Justice Department, the man in charge of creating new identities for witnesses who wished to disappear.
“Let me explain a bit about the Federal Witness Security Program,” Terry said. “When the trial is over, we’ll send you to whichever country you choose. Your furniture and other belongings will be shipped to a warehouse in Washington, with a coded number. We’ll forward it to you later. There won’t be any way for anyone to trace you. We’ll supply you with a new identity and background and, if you wish, a new appearance.”
“I’ll take care of that.” He trusted no one to know what he was going to do with his appearance.
“Ordinarily when we set people up with a new identity, we find jobs for them in whatever field they’re suited for, and we supply them with some money. In your case, Mr. Colfax, I understand that money is no problem.”
Thomas Colfax wondered what David Terry would say if he knew how much money was salted away in his bank accounts in Germany, Switzerland and Hong Kong. Even Thomas Colfax had not been able to keep track of it all, but a modest estimate, he would guess, would be nine or ten million dollars.
“No,” Colfax said, “I don’t think money will be a problem.”
“All right, then. The first thing to decide is where you would like to go. Do you have any particular area in mind?”
It was such a simple question, yet so much lay behind it. What the man was really saying was, Where do you want to spend the rest of your life? For Colfax knew that when he got to wherever he was going, he would never be able to leave. It would become his new habitat, his protective cover, and he would not be safe anywhere else in the world.
“Brazil.”
It was the logical choice. He already owned a two-hundred-thousand-acre plantation there in the name of a Panamanian corporation that could not be traced back to him. The plantation itself was like a fortress. He could afford to buy himself enough protection so that even if Michael Moretti did finally learn where he was, no one would be able to touch him. He could buy anything, including all the women he wanted. Thomas Colfax liked Latin women. People thought that when a man reached the age of sixty-five he was finished sexually, that he no longer had any interest, but Colfax had found that his appetite had grown as he had gotten older. His favorite sport was to have two or three beautiful young women in bed with him at the same time, working him over. The younger the better.
“Brazil will be easy to arrange,” David Terry was saying. “Our government will buy you a small house there, and—”
“That won’t be necessary.” Colfax almost laughed aloud at the thought of his having to live in a small house. “All I will require of you is that you provide me with the new identification and safe transportation. I’ll take care of everything else.”
“As you wish, Mr. Colfax.” David Terry rose to his feet. “I think we’ve covered just about everything.” He smiled reassuringly. “This is going to be one of the easy ones. I’ll begin setting things in motion. As soon as you’re finished testifying, you’ll be on an airplane to South America.”
“Thank you.” Thomas Colfax watched his visitor leave and he was filled with a sense of elation. He had done it! Michael Moretti had made the mistake of underestimating him, and it was going to be Moretti’s final mistake. Colfax was going to bury him so deep that he would never rise again.
And his testimony was going to be filmed. That would be interesting. He wondered whether they would use makeup on him. He studied himself in the small mirror on the wall. Not bad, he thought, for a man my age. I still