O'Farrell's Law by Brian Freemantle

Author:Brian Freemantle
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media LLC

EIGHTEEN

MORRISON AND Hoover arrived at Shepherd Industries in the afternoon, as they’d arranged. Morrison said that although every sort of interception was being attempted, the likeliest place to arrest Belac remained the factory complex itself.

“So it’s cooperation all the way,” Hoover said.

“Each way,” Shepherd qualified, heavily. He’d actually talked it through with his attorney since that morning’s call, suggesting the man be present when they arrived. He wished he’d insisted, despite the lawyer’s caution that it would look as if he needed legal protection against wrongdoing.

The FBI man grinned, tight with excitement; the impending bust was good promotion material. He said, “Here’s the deal. When Belac’s in the bag, I’ll make public all you’ve done, express official gratitude. How’s that sound?”

“All right,” Shepherd agreed, missing the qualification.

The full planning meeting was the next day at noon, the time they expected Belac to be seized the following day. Eight other men, in addition to Morrison and Hoover, crowded into Shepherd’s office, but were not introduced. It was Morrison who called the gathering to order. He had Shepherd recount the telephone conversation, and when the industrialist finished, the FBI man said. “It looks like the best chance we’ve ever had.”

“We hope,” Hoover said. The Customs inspector spread out maps on Shepherd’s conference table. Upon them a series of outwardly radiating concentric circles were drawn, with the factory at the center. The group made an effort to isolate every road that could in some way or part be used to reach it. The total came to eighteen, and Morrison said, “We’d need an army to cover them all.”

“And have to include San Francisco police and Santa Clara county police and the highway patrol,” Hoover said.

“Too many,” Morrison said, and for the first time Shepherd realized the intended seizure was being confined to the FBI and Customs.

“Which brings us back to the factory, which is why we’re here,” said one of the unidentified men, who carried a clipboard, although he hadn’t yet written any notes.

At Morrison’s request, Shepherd produced the plans of the factory, both internal and external. The man with the clipboard said, “Going to be a bitch sealing the outside, without his seeing it as he enters. The parking lot at the rear is fenced and containable, but this open area at the front is hopeless. He’d spot any concentration of men a mile away.”

“So there can’t be any,” Morrison said. “He’s got to be allowed onto the premises and into the elevator before there’s any move.”

“Don’t we need that anyway?” Hoover asked. “Don’t we need Shepherd wired to get some discussion between him and Belac, linking Belac to the VAX order, to go with ail the documentary stuff?”

Morrison shifted, annoyed at Hoover suggesting it first. To the industrialist, Morrison said, “You feel okay about that?”

“What do I have to do?” Shepherd asked.

“I fit you with an undetectable microphone: it’s voice-activated so everything either of you say is automatically recorded,” said another of the FBI team. “It’ll tie Belac in absolutely, with everything.

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