An Absence of Light

She looked at Ledet. “I knew you were an asshole the second you walked into that bar, mister. I couldn’t of had a better day in my life than the one I’d of had if I’d just walked out of that bar right then.”

Wiping her nose one more time, she got up from the sofa, gave a tug to the hem of her shift and walked past Ledet, throwing a look at him that told him she was going to burn his ass.

The maps, the cocaine, and the guns were all in a window seat in what must have been Redden’s bedroom. But the compartment was architecturally disguised to look as though it was part of a cantilevered bay window rather than what it was, a compartment large enough for two men to crawl into.

There was about half a kilo of recreational cocaine stored in a clear plastic container, three Uzi’s, a Sig-Sauer like Graver’s, a couple of Smith amp; Wesson M13’s, and a Colt Delta. Ordnance for each was stacked neatly in separate wooden crates with the tops off. There was a stack of hard-core porn films as Alice had said-and there was a satchel.

Graver picked up the satchel and opened the leather straps. Folded in neat, nine-by-twelve squares were flight maps. There was a red, rubber-stamped rectangle on the front with a place for a date. The date, written in ballpoint pen, was the next day.

Chapter 69

Connie’s condominium was on a short, quiet street not far from Greenway Plaza, one of the city’s eight “business centers,” clusters of glass and steel architecture that punched up out of the heavily forested landscape that comprised the seven thousand five hundred square miles of metropolitan Houston.

It was not a large complex, only five units arranged around a regular pentagonal courtyard enclosed by high, rusty brick walls covered in Virginia creeper and English ivy, a barrier from the noise of the streets. There was only a single entrance from the apex of the pentagon, through a single-lane drive that circled a central garden plot of decorative plantings at the hub of which bloomed an enormous mimosa with shimmering pink blossoms. Each residence had a garage that was entered off the circular drive, though each garage was situated so that its entrance was not visible from the circular drive itself.

In many ways it was a good location to stake out. One entrance from the front. None from the back. But on the other hand it was a hell of a challenge because the architect had gone to a lot of trouble to guard the entrance of each building from its neighbors, privacy being a highly touted “amenity” of this particular complex. Access from the garage to the front door was from inside the garage so that once you entered and lowered the garage door behind you by remote control you were secure. The public entrance to the front door was through a walled courtyard with a wrought-iron gate that had an electronic lock that could be unlocked only with the resident’s key or from inside the residence.

The problem was positioning. There could be no surveillance from a car. They needed access to one of the other condos, preferably an adjacent one. Using Arnette’s computerized crisscross directory, Dani, with Arnette looking over her shoulder, called each of the adjacent units. The first one answered and Dani asked for a fictitious name and then apologized for the wrong number. The second one had a recording saying they couldn’t come to the telephone right now, leave a message. Dani tapped into the computer for the resident’s occupation. Lawrence Micheson, sales representative for Tectronics Aluminum Fabrications. She called the employer and asked to speak to Mr. Micheson. She was transferred to his secretary who said he was in Phoenix on business and wouldn’t be back until Saturday, could she take a message. No, thank you. Dani tapped into one of the credit bureaus and learned that Mr. Micheson was not married. Odds were: the place was empty.

It was decided that Remberto would go in. Murray would stay outside the complex on a side street that had a clear view of the entrance and let him know when someone was approaching the entrance gates.

The afternoon was still and sweltering, and by the time Remberto walked inside the complex his shirt was beginning to stick to him. That was the thing about Houston, moving here was like having never left Bolivia. The heat and humidity was just like working the Beni River jungles. But of course there had never been air conditioners in the valley of the Beni River. Remberto loved refrigerated air. It made him smile.