The Conway's Conspiracy Page 9

  The reporters were not the only people trying to track them down. Invisible spies followed them everywhere, especially those who had criminal accounts to settle. Crouched in a hole, the two brothers stayed put without understanding that their isolation made them more vulnerable.

  It was with a sense of critical urgency and great emotional fervor that Joe followed their trail, taking advantage of the deserted landscape where they had found a haven. In that sobering autumn night, a deep darkness shrouded the environment where the assassination, known as the hit of the Jac-

  kal, took place.

  The Pozy brothers had spent hours speculating about the best way to deal with the situation. At seven o’clock in the evening, they dined before resuming their conversation in the living room. A deep silence hovered around the place. The brothers perceived only the seesaw motion of a tree leaves on the roof; but fatality was very close.

  Right in their backyard, Jonathan’s menacing silhouette moved slowly around. Lying in ambush, the baby crawled on his belly like a snake following the scent of a prey. His eyes focused on the little house whose trees stood like ghosts in the night. Stealthily, he moved toward the back door. A few feet from the entrance, he immobilized and flattened on the ground. A few minutes passed before the shadow of a man loomed in the darkness. “Bro, where are you going?” a clear voice reverberated in the backyard.

  “I’m going to get the board…” somebody replied feverishly.

  As a feline, Jonathan remained in his position. In the twilight created by a bulb reflection, he saw somebody walking toward the gate. It was Girard Pozy. Slowly, he slipped behind the shadow. At about one yard from Girard, he knelt up and brandished a gun.

  The smuggler had an instinctive reflex and leapt abruptly. At that moment, three detonations blasted in the night. Arms stretched out, Girard yelled, staggered, and collapsed. Jonathan made a move to flee but stopped suddenly. Going back to Girard, he fired another bullet in the man’s head.

  Running and screaming, Steven opened the back door and stepped out. Jonathan hesitated before firing two shots toward him. Girard’s brother threw himself on the ground and

  went on to set at rest in a corner.

  Later that night, when police arrived, they found Steven in deep consternation. Incapable of getting anything out of him, they stopped the interrogation. The next day, he was summoned to the local Police Department. William Arthur Bogatt had rushed to Key West and was eager to get into the details of the bloody event.

  The death of Girard was a major blow to the police. “The guardian” tried hard to get Steven’s help, carefully explaining to him why he should cooperate with the authorities.

  “The same bandits whose actions caused the death of eight officers of law had also killed your brother,” he said straightforwardly. “Your description of the murderer is vague and it’s impossible to get anything out of it. Why do you refuse to cooperate?”

  “I’m a clean man…” replied Steven. “Your question sounds like a threat...”

  “If you’re innocent, you’ve nothing to fear,” asserted Bogatt. “The investigation is still at an early stage. Here you’ve a chance to explain yourself. A relationship with the bandits doesn’t imply your guilt.”

  “I know nothing…” Steven was inflexible.

  “What about Girard…?” asked Bogatt. “Don’t you think his death has something to do with it?”

  “Sir, I already told you I know nothing…” he was now forceful and arrogant.

  “As your deceased brother, you’re an ex-convict,” said Bogatt. ”We don’t need much to take you in... You show bad faith… Chalat told us everything... We know you heavily invested in illegal arms trafficking. We don’t intend to charge you but it’s not out of question.”

  “It’s ridiculous…” Steven answered angrily. “You must know I’m not involved in those crimes. Do you want to immolate an innocent man?”

  “Don’t play dumb with me…” Bogatt appeared composed and resolute. “You really don’t pay attention to the severity of your situation... You’re an illegal arms dealer, Steve… The police have cause to keep you in...”

  “Do whatever you judge necessary,” the individual yelled indignantly. “I’ll not answer your questions... I want a lawyer.”

  Bogatt shook his head and signaled to an agent, asking him to let Steven go. A moment later, Graham entered the room and sat down.

  “What’s next?” Bogatt sounded tired and frustrated. “We don’t have enough to arrest this man.”

  “I know,” answered Graham. “Our hope is Chalat’s testimony. It might convince the District Attorney.”

  “I doubt that the testimony of a professional burglar can convince the DA,” Bogatt replied acrimoniously. “We’ve to find another way…”

  “Steven is smart,” grumbled Graham. “I know what he is fighting for… The quarter million dollars is the cause of his resistance…”

  “You don’t think he is involved?” asked Bogatt.

  “No…” Graham smiled cunningly; “but he has precious information... We must find a way to turn him around. Galiss wants to offer complete immunity in exchange for his cooperation, which would leave the door open to monetary compensation. The District Attorney refuses for unknown reasons… Here, benefits outweigh the other factors.”

  “Somebody must exert some pressure to get the District

  Attorney’s attention,” Bogatt said vividly. “It’s absurd… The man who should be working with us impedes our efforts. The Director has got to intervene.”

  “Galiss had insisted,” Graham reminded him. “Connoley asked us to wait for the test result.”

  “How long will it take?” said Bogatt.

  “The division chief said that his people are working hard,” Graham answered moodily. “Connoley’s hands are tied.”

  “Oh, those bureaucrats…” Bogatt was outwardly critical. “Steve’s cooperation could help us make a huge step in the right direction.”

  * * *

  Six months had passed since the beginning of the Hauss & Caust affair. Law enforcement agencies around the United States had combined intelligences to arrest the bandits but they were nowhere to be found. Galiss Vaughan, the government representative charged with the task of capturing the gangsters, found himself in the middle of a messy struggle. The authorities overtly criticized his action and asked him to resign.

  Those emotional calls did not play well with the FBI Field Office Director. Intervening before state and local authorities, Connoley insisted on the inconvenience of a collective resignation: Galiss’ colleagues would not work without him.

  After a few heated debates, they agreed to extend the duration of the delegate’s mission. “Three more months and not a day over…” the Director in charge of State Law Enforcement yelled angrily.

  The same day, the detective met with his collaborators. A bit troubled by the wave of animosity, Galiss appeared prudent and reserved. Answering Graham who told him to dismiss politicians’ dirty tactics, the special agent said he had to pay attention to the national madness. It was a flashpoint. The Hauss & Caust affair had become an obsession for the most reliable parties.

  “I’m happy to get your help,” he said to his colleagues. “I could find nowhere such zeal and competence. I remain optimistic for I know the immutability of the investigative process, as well as the effectiveness of federal police practices. We’ve passed the time of grace and the bandits’ freedom is more precarious than ever. Our detractors can’t modify the picture.”

  “Today’s papers have published the composite sketch of Girard’s murderer,” said Canamera. “Police have received hundreds of calls from all over the country. Members of our team are verifying them. I’m convinced the killer is hiding somewhere in the city. I’ve asked four agents to move on his trail.”

  “This man’s presence in Florida is symptomatic of a disturbing fact,” rumbled Graham. “Our primary evaluation had given way to the notion of a getaway out of t
he United States. Surprisingly, the bandits hit once more in the same area. We should rethink the whole investigation.”

  “Besides Girard’s murder, there’re no new substantial causes of concern,” Galiss toned down his voice. “This meeting is part of a routine. The boss asked me to relay to each of you the expression of his professional consideration. He tells you to ignore the grave-diggers’ inconsiderate denigration. In a couple of days, he’ll meet with the District Attorney. He

  promised to talk to him about the urgency to work with Steven.”

  At the end of the meeting, Graham went to his office and began the daunting task of examining the manifests from Miami International Airport. An hour in the examination, he sighed, relaxed, and mused for a moment; he then continued. Taking his duty seriously, he carefully went through hundreds of names and destinations. Despite the frustration, he hung in there. Galiss had said it was a crucial aspect of the inquiry.

  Now, for the fifteenth time, he went backward. April 17, the day of the attack, three black travelers left Miami toward Los Angeles. They returned two days later and took a plane to the Virgin Islands. Intriguing …

  And those three fellows: two blacks and a Caucasian… They left for Paris the day of the attack and came back seventy-two hours later…

  April 17, four ex-convicts went to Germany…

  Graham shook his head, “Goddamn... Am I getting crazy?”

  He stopped, stayed silent for a moment, and started again. After a couple of hours of fruitless work, he exclaimed at the top of his lungs, “Oh Jesus… Help me!”

  Standing up, he walked around the room and stepped toward the door. As he was leaving, he made an about-face and went back to his desk. “What the heck am I doing?” he mumbled boringly. “I’ve got to concentrate…”

  Sitting down, he took a list in the pile and held it out. “Ah, Jamaica Air…”

  After an exhaustive analysis of the data on the Jamaica Airline’s list, Graham left to join the other agents in the conference room where they were discussing about arms dealers operating in South Florida. Canamera suggested they should make a list of all suspected smugglers whose illegal commerce allowed outlaws to flourish in the state.

  “Steven is also a smuggler,” Galiss said soberly. “He is a provocateur... Obviously, his tactics tend to lead us in a vicious circle... He knows the system and is aware our accusation will not stand in a court of law. His manner of working on the edge is part of a grinding strategy.”

  “He is affected by the recent events but, apparently, wants to continue his brother’s clandestine activities,” the Miami FBI Field Office Director answered with typical candor. “He is a slick man with considerable resources. It’ll be a difficult task to catch up with him. The arrest of Girard’s murderer is one aspect of his plan. The other consists of pocketing the quarter million dollars. The way it’s going on, I wouldn’t be surprised that he reaches his goal.”

  “Let’s not be cynical,” Jova Canat, the assistant director, shouted with a tremulous voice. “Things are often less dramatic than they appear to be. Despite his bravado, Steve is a good boy we’ll get easily. It’s a mistake to prolong the game. The District Attorney is a dunce who refuses to see further than his big nose. We must touch higher authorities to unblock the situation.”

  “The atmosphere is extremely tense,” said Graham. “Strong pressures are exerted to find a resolution to this complicated case. The District Attorney’s attitude is disturbing. He seems motivated by political considerations. His confusing behavior gives way to absurd controversies that affect the daily work of the security agencies.”

  “Is it reasonable to express such an offensive opinion?” Connoley’s voice was affectedly sarcastic. “My experience

  of American jurisprudence forces me to keep a low profile. What we see in court is never plain reality. To get to it, one must go through incredible judicial contortions. A District Attorney sits on top of a pyramid. Personage of complex political background, his mere nomination is an event of federal proportion. Constantly on guard, pulled up and down, often denigrated, he must pay attention to a lot of things. Please, don’t be too hard on him…”

  “I reject the idea of law enforcement without clear objectives,” Bogatt intervened abruptly. “Justice must be total. It shouldn’t depend on a District Attorney’s political inhibitions. Look at what happens! A major investigation is blocked because of hierarchical incoherence.”

  “There may be some good reasons for the District Attorney’s nebulous attitude and, perhaps, it’s too premature to judge him,” Connoley argued cordially. “Things might soon take a turn for the worse. State authorities count on the prints found in the apartment, on Stavisky Street. They refuse to subject themselves to Steven’s rascally behavior. The man will endure vigorous prosecution if the prints reveal what we expect.”

  “How long will it take?” Bogatt asked vividly.

  “We’ve people working on it…” Connoley shook his head. “I’ve talked to the District Attorney. He is willing to offer a deal to Steven if, a week from now, nothing happens.”

  “What about Interpol?” Galiss inquired with a faint smile.

  “Some unreliable trails, as usual…” Canat was flatly dismissive.

  “More time passes, more I’m convinced we’re in a bad place,” said Graham. “I would bet my salary the bandits are warming up on the other side of the ocean. Steven is out

  there, exposed to their harmful deeds. In my opinion, Girard’s murder was a hit from them. The assassination was ordered from outside this country.”

  “You talk in a definite manner,” Connoley observed the detective with a questioning glare. “Is there substantive proof to your assertion?”

  “Everything we did until now has been dictated by a political notion that goes against anything likely to value foreign help,” Graham replied forthrightly. “As you know, Interpol has very limited means to carry on its policies. Most of the time, it’s a transmission belt. The bandits had considerable time to prepare. The precision with which they had committed the crime is revealing. It’s not foolish to think that their decision to flee overseas could have been inspired by the knowledge of our security system. ”

  “Those speculations are to be proven,” Galiss answered reluctantly. “I agree that some cultural inclinations could’ve been exploited, but it’s a far-reaching conclusion. My own perception is that we’re progressing toward a happy ending. We should not be affected by political interferences. Wherever the bandits hide, we’ll hunt them down. Keep working, guys, and don’t be misled by deceptive signals.”

  “Your optimism is comforting,” Connoley smiled gently. “Such confidence is good and I fully support your action. Tomorrow, I’ll pay another visit to the District Attorney.”

  At this moment the door opened and Canamera appeared. The Puerto Rican stared at his colleagues, pinched his lower lip, and said, “Steven Pozy is dead… They just discovered his body.”

  PART II

  CHAPTER 7

  A Wonderful Coincidence

  “Graham, are you napping?”

  “No… I’m thinking...”

  “What are you thinking about?”

  “Hauss & Caust Bank…” he looked at Canamera and shook his head; “my mind refuses to get it right…”

  “Yesterday I paid a visit to Marvin,” said the Puerto Rican. “The banker talked to me as if I was his enemy.”

  “What did you do over there?” asked Graham.

  “I revisited the crime scene,” Canamera sounded calm and reserved. “I spent two hours trying to get something...”

  “What did you find?” inquired Graham.

  “Nothing...” replied the Puerto Rican with a friendly nod. “They’ve cleaned it up…”

  “Somewhere, there is a connection…” Graham said pensively. “It just doesn’t make sense.”

  “Aren’t you getting nuts?” asked Canamera.

  “Nah…” he waved disenchantingly. “I’m good�
�”

  At this moment, Galiss, Lee Ziang Pyen, and Bill Bogatt entered the room. Galiss opened his briefcase, took a paper, and handed it over to Graham. “This is the list of evidences,” he said calmly. “You’ve in your hands what it takes to con-

  vict the killers...”

  “Is it enough?” asked Graham.

  “Enough to send them to hell…” the delegate sounded utterly confident.

  Graham passed the paper to Canamera. The Puerto Rican examined it for a moment. “Guys, you did a good job…” he said with a bright smile. “You really got it right…”

  “It’s incredible,” growled Bogatt. “Those gangsters are amazing.”

  “They wanted to commit a perfect crime,” mumbled Galiss. “It’s not even close...”

  “They’re still on the loose,” Bogatt reminded him. “We’ve to give them credit for being so good…”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll catch them…” answered Galiss with a bit of haughtiness. “They can’t get away…”

  “The Pozy brothers’ killing is hard to digest,” Canamera said gloomily. “Their demise is a failure of the whole process.”

  “The District Attorney recognized he was wrong,” Bogatt replied with a sense of resignation. “He did his mea culpa and promised a better deal next time.”

  “He is playing politics…” Canamera exclaimed vividly. “There is no dupe here.”

  “The Director agrees that somebody from our agency should go out to assist Interpol,” Galiss said with a faint smile. “He thinks the gangsters are probably overseas… What do you think, Graham? That’s your idea.”

  His eyes shut, Graham muttered an inaudible word.

  “I can’t hear you,” Galiss looked at him. “What did you say?”

  “I don’t know…” answered Graham. “Yeah, that’s a good

  idea…”