Page 20 of The Children of Eve (Charlie Parker #22)

CHAPTER XX

Roland Bilas had been raised Catholic, even if it was years since he’d darkened a church door. Nevertheless, Catholicism was a hard habit to break, and after sharing with Erica Kressler what he’d done, he at last experienced something of the release that came from a shriving. He wasn’t even required to do penance, or not beyond enduring Kressler’s look of mixed incredulity and disgust; he had no intention of sinning again in a similar fashion, because he didn’t think it would actually be possible, some offenses being unique.

When he was done, Kressler let him stew before she spoke.

“I wish you hadn’t told me,” she said.

“You asked,” Bilas pointed out, not unreasonably.

Kressler capped her pen, seemingly fearful that if she did not, she might be tempted to use it, thereby committing to paper that which was better left unrecorded.

“Clients of mine have been threatened in the past,” she said. “Deciding how to handle it is where idealism meets reality. Ideally, we’d ignore threats; in reality, that’s not always an option. My instinct is that you’ll have to throw the feds a bone, one with marrow in it. When the Mexicans are notified of what you were carrying in your suitcase, they’ll want to know how you came by them, which will require you to cooperate. The feds will encourage you to do that because it’ll keep the Mexicans happy and maintain good relations. If you don’t cooperate, they may decide to make an example of you. Worse, the Mexicans could seek your extradition, given the value and rarity of the items. We can fight the request, but it’ll cost you, and there’s still a good chance you’ll lose. Have you ever seen the inside of a Mexican prison, Roland?”

Roland admitted that he’d never seen the inside of any prison.

“The only Mexican prison I’ve seen was in a Netflix documentary,” said Kressler. “It didn’t appeal, even at one remove, and I doubt you’ll like it any better in person.”

“Technically, the mantas and pottery are Peruvian,” said Bilas. “I just acquired them in Mexico.”

“Really? How interesting. And do you think a Peruvian prison will be significantly more luxurious than a Mexican one?”

“Probably not.”

“Then shut up. How much crossover exists between your personal activities—meaning the textiles and the pottery—and what you did for this man, Devin Vaughn?”

“None, or very little.”

“They’re not the same thing. Which is it, Roland?”

“A middleman in common, that’s all. He looked after the logistics for the Vaughn business, including transportation to the border, but had no idea of the cargo.”

“Not back then, but are you sure he hasn’t worked it out by now?”

Bilas was sure he had, because the middleman wasn’t dumb and had made it clear that the sale of the mantas and pottery represented the last dealings he and Bilas were likely to have until Christ returned to claim his kingdom.

“If he has, he didn’t say anything about it, or not explicitly,” said Bilas.

“Because he had the good sense not to raise it with you. He’s trying to pretend it never happened. If we offer sacrifices to the feds, can he be excluded without the whole narrative collapsing?”

“Of course.”

“Don’t speak to me like I’m an idiot for even suggesting it. You really are testing my patience, Roland. Whatever you tell the feds needs to hang together, which means it has to be tied by truths. They’re not amateurs. If you lie, they’ll spot it. Omissions, though, we can find a way to gloss over.”

“So what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to sit in the lobby and put together a timeline and a list of names, with the middleman left out. You’re going to go through it over and over, and when you’re satisfied, you’ll come back in here and I’ll try to pick it apart. If it holds, we have something to offer the FBI. After that, I’ll burn the paper you wrote it on.”

She slid him a yellow legal pad and a pen.

“Now get to work. And Roland?”

“Yes?”

“When we’re done, you should find a new lawyer.”