The Destroyer 135 - Political Pressure by Warren Murphy & Richard Sapir

Author:Warren Murphy & Richard Sapir
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: sf_detective
ISBN: 0373632509
Publisher: Gold Eagle
Published: 2004-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

19

"This is Sister Francine's. Sister Camille speaking. May I help you?"

"Sister Francine's what?" Remo asked.

"Sister Francine's Home on the Water. Were you trying to reach someone else?"

"What water are you on?" Remo asked.

"Why, Lake Superior. We're up in the U.P. It is a lovely place, especially during warm weather. We have tours all summer long."

"The U.P. as in Upper Peninsula Michigan? So your summer is like a week long, right?"

Sister Camille tittered. "Well, a month, anyway. The rest of the time it's colder than hell!"

"Tsk, Sister Camille, your language," Remo remonstrated.

"And the cold! You freeze your..."

Sister Camille was gone and Howard Smith came on the line. "Remo, where are you?"

"Hey, Smitty, put the nun back on. I wanted to hear what she froze off in the winter."

"What? It was just a computer, Remo," Smith said. "We've got a real situation developing here. Now, where are you?"

"Truck stop. Somewhere near Fountain, Colorado. Is that a real town? Named Fountain?"

"What are you doing there?" Smith demanded. "Wait. You're heading to Pueblo, going after Police Chief Gord Roescher."

"How did you know that?" Remo demanded. "And how come you didn't tell me about Gord Roescher? Because if you only knew what I had to go through to get a line on this guy."

"Gord Roescher is small potatoes," Smith said. "There are other, bigger targets. Mark's come up with a way of identifying possible targets across the country. This situation could be more dangerous than we thought, Remo."

"Possible targets are not the same thing as confirmed targets, Smitty. I talked to the paramedic who worked on the mercenary from the courtroom before he died. He was spilling his guts. Thought it would earn him a shot of painkiller."

"The paramedics withheld painkillers?"

"Guess they misplaced them. Anyway, he only knew about the next planned hit, and it was supposed to be today, and it was supposed to be on Police Chief Gord Roescher. If I can get there first, I can nab the guy I missed yesterday and make him answer questions."

"Yes. Good."

"What's this Chief Roescher done wrong anyway that they want to turn his toes up?"

Smith quickly rattled off the chief's offenses.

"Now," Remo said, "I notice you didn't say 'allegedly.'"

"Chief Roescher's guilty of most or all of the crimes. He's been under investigation by various federal agencies. They've simply been unable to come up with enough evidence for an indictment."

"But he's dirty?"

"Yes, but I want you to focus on whoever attacks the chief, not Roescher himself," Smith said. "Phone as soon as you've got results." There was a click.

"You know, Smitty," Remo said, "I liked Sister Camille way better than you." Then he hung up, too.

Remo walked into his third Pueblo police station of the day before he finally got the correct place.

"Yeah, Chief Roescher's here," the desk sergeant allowed. "You got an appointment?"

"No. He doesn't take walk-ins?"

"Uh-uh."

"Think he can squeeze me in?"

"Uh-uh."

"Could you ask him?'

The desk sergeant decided to humor the thin man. One thing he could tell easily enough was that the guy wasn't packing.

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