Run for Your Life, Riley Horton!: A by Barton Sara M

Author:Barton, Sara M.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fbi, massachusetts, florida, slavery, money laundering, drug smuggling, organized crime, boston police, underground railroad, delray beach
Publisher: Sara M. Barton

Chapter Seven --

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Agent Cook, but I do know I don’t like your tone. I suggest you moderate your comments accordingly, or I shall take it up with the proper authorities.”

There it was, the look of fear. Cook didn’t want his bosses to know he was down here. That said it all.

“You do what you think best, Ms. Horner,” he said affably, but there was no warmth in his eyes. Even as I sat there on that September night, my notes in my lap, I could see he was already making plans to come after me.

You might have wondered why I would continue to sit there after receiving such a veiled threat from a federal agent. Don’t forget that I work for that federal task force. We knew this was a powerful organization we were investigating. We knew it was only a matter of time before the next piece of the puzzle slipped into place. That meant not giving up. I steeled myself and continued to observe the traffic patterns on the street. But more than that, I began to understand there was something here that Agent Cook did not want me to see.

Half an hour later, it came to me in an epiphany. One moment I was staring at the tall building in front of me and the next, I was staring at the phone numbers being used by the bad guys. Ten windows across. Seventeen stories high. And every fifteen minutes, the phone numbers would change. As I watched the different windows on the ten top floors change, I understood how they had evaded legitimate investigators for so long. On and on it went. Imagine the possibilities. An empty office building at night, filled with businesses that had telephones, computers, faxes, and just about any other equipment that bad guys could utilize temporarily as they moved their big shipments through the city. Rather than risk using cell phones that might be tapped, that could give them away as to location and time, they were communicating with distributors temporarily commandeering legitimate businesses to get their criminal activities done. As I sat there, I thought back to all the nights I had parked here, observing, taking notes, thinking. They changed phone numbers between businesses as easily as changing offices. These were landlines. Caller ID would identify them as insurance companies, financial advisers, non-profit charities -- you name it, they used it. And it was all verifiable as apparently legitimate. That was their biggest mistake. You see, those offices were locked up at night. No one was supposed to be using those phones. It was unauthorized use of telephone lines to facilitate criminal activities in support of a conspiracy. I knew that, just as surely as I knew that the Underground Railroad was never supported by Hambleport’s citizenry. But how to prove it? That was another matter.

So engrossed in thought was I that I didn’t see the dark sedan crawling up along side of my car.

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