“It’s a daunting number of vehicles, yes, sir.”
“I’m sure the locals are running checks on stolen Ford pickups.”
“None reported so far.”
Not surprising. Coburn would have chosen his vehicle wisely.
“State agencies have ordered that every Ford truck of those model years be stopped and checked,” VanAllen was saying. “Meanwhile, Mr. Gillette is very concerned about his daughter-in-law and granddaughter. He came straight here from the shrimp boat and was—”
“Explain to me what he was doing there when the authorities arrived.”
VanAllen shared Deputy Crawford’s suspicion that Doral Hawkins and Stan Gillette had a direct pipeline into the Tambour P.D. “Crawford thinks they’ve got moles inside the sheriff’s office, too. Courthouse. Everywhere.”
“The good ol’ boy system,” Hamilton remarked.
“Yes, sir.” VanAllen continued by describing Stan Gillette’s state of mind. “He went ballistic over Crawford’s insinuation that his daughter-in-law was ‘in cahoots’—his words—with Coburn. He caused quite a scene in our lobby, insisted on seeing me personally, gave me an ass-chewing for not putting this ‘upstart deputy sheriff’ in his place. Said I was being derelict in my duties and that if his family wound up dead, their blood would be on my hands. Which,” he said around a sigh, “I know without his telling me.”
Hamilton considered his decision for several seconds, then said, “Tom, Mrs. Gillette and her little girl are in danger, but not from Coburn. He’s one of ours. He’s an agent.”
After a momentary pause, VanAllen said, “Crawford asked me point-blank if he was. I said no.”
“Where did he get the notion?”
“Rumor mill, he said.”
That was troubling. The rumor had to have originated in Tom VanAllen’s own office, based on the fishing Hamilton had done yesterday. Apparently his inquiries hadn’t been as subtle as he’d thought. Shelving that issue for the moment, he gave Tom background information on Coburn.
“I recruited him straight out of the Marines and trained him personally. He’s one of the best undercover agents in the bureau. He always worked deep, but never as deep as he did at Marset’s company.
“He took Mrs. Gillette and the little girl from their home for their own protection. I spoke with her on the phone yesterday. Neither she nor the child has suffered any harm from Coburn. Nor will they. On that score, you can ease your mind.” He paused, then said, “What you should be concerned about is the seepage of information out of your office.”
VanAllen didn’t say anything for the longest time, but Hamilton could feel the man’s slow burn coming through the phone. When he did speak, his voice vibrated with anger. “Why did you deliberately mislead me about Coburn?”
“Because his mission was sensitive. Before revealing who he was, I had to know how he was perceived.”
“You made a fool of me.”
“No, I—”
“What would you call such gross manipulation?”
“Tactics, Tom.” Hamilton raised his voice to match the angry level of VanAllen’s. “There’s some bad shit going on down there, and everyone is susceptible to corruption.”
“That’s a chickenshit response.”
“Ours is a chickenshit business. In order to be good at it, you can’t trust anybody.”
“If you didn’t trust me, why did you appoint me to this job? Or is that why? Because you didn’t trust me.”
“I appointed you because you were, and are, the best man for that position.”
VanAllen gave a bitter laugh. “Well, in light of my position, can you tell me why Coburn was planted inside Sam Marset’s trucking company?”
“Is this line secure?”
“Is any?”
“Good point,” Hamilton said dryly.