17

THE PHONE RANG twice and he picked it up and answered with a tired voice, "Frank Flannery."

"Mike Nolan."

"I've been expecting your call."

"So I guess I need to hear what this guy has to say."

Flannery replied, "Not that easy. He refuses to meet with anyone."

"So what do we do? How am I supposed to talk to him?"

Flannery paused. "He's concerned about his safety. He thinks if he talks to you, his life will be in danger."

"Yeah, he told me that. But I don't get it. How would his life be in danger?"

"He says has evidence that will break this case wide-open. And he thinks you need to talk to him. If someone else, the wrong person, learns this information, it could have serious consequences."

"I'm not following this at all. But I am ready to talk to him."

"Like I said, it's not that easy."

"Look, at least give me a category of what he's talking about."

"No. He wants to be compensated for his time, and to be relocated."

That surprised me. "Relocated? Some kind of civil witness-protection program?"

"I think that's exactly what he has in mind. But obviously he's not working with the government, so it won't apply."

"It might if he is talking about activity that's criminal."

"I don't really know about that. He won't talk to the government."

"Why? If his information is so important, he could tell anybody."

"He thinks you would be particularly interested in it because it would be to the benefit of your client."

"How so?"

"I'm not at liberty to say."

"Shit, Frank, this is ridiculous." I thought for a second. "What does he mean compensated for his time?"

"He says this will cause him to lose his job. He'll have to move out of the area. He wants to be compensated for that loss."

"For a lost job? How much we talking about here?"

"All he's told me is that it will be significant."

"Whatever that means. How do I know he knows anything at all? How do I know this isn't some random guy pitching a scam?"

"He said you'd ask that. He said you can't know now, but you will once you hear his information."

"I'm going to have to think about it. You looked into the ethics of this?"

"I'm just representing him to protect his identity. I have not been retained to look into the ethical implications for you."

"I'll get back to you."

I hung up and called Braden to my office. I glanced at the clock and again reminded myself to go home. Just one more thing. Braden arrived and sat on the couch with a pad of paper ready for whatever new assignment I was about to give him. "I talked to the attorney representing that witness."

"Who?"

"The guy who called. The message you took."

"Right. What did he say?"

"The guy wants money. He wants to be compensated for his 'lost income' because he has to move. Wants us to relocate him. He says his life will be in danger once he tells us his information."

Braden stared at me. "Life in danger? How?"

"Who knows. Take a look at the ethical rules of compensating witnesses other than just witness fees and travel expenses. I don't think you can, but the feds do it all the time. In a criminal case the government pays a guy, gives him witness protection, relocates him to Des Moines, and pays him forever. They probably set them up with new wives for all I know. Why can't you compensate a witness in a civil trial? I don't know. Take a look and let me know."

"Will do."

____________________

That Friday, Tinny Byrd showed up at my office uninvited. He didn't need an invitation, but he didn't usually just drop by. But he also didn't really trust any form of communication. He eavesdropped on people's cell phones all the time, even though it was illegal. I always told him never to do it in my cases because we couldn't collect evidence illegally. He assured me he would never do it in one of my cases. He also didn't trust e-mail. He pretty much believed that anything that was converted into zeros and ones and transmitted where somebody else could catch it or duplicate it was a really bad idea. He was an old-school investigator who liked to stop by and hand you a manila envelope with a grin on his face. He loved seeing your face when he handed you something new, something that might be exciting. He almost always waited for you to open the envelope. He said it made him feel like Santa Claus.

Dolores called me and said he was downstairs. He didn't even know I'd be there. I went down and got him and walked him up to my office. We sat down and chatted for quite a while about nothing in particular. Sports, law, criminal cases, the shop talk of attorneys and investigators. He sat holding an envelope but was in no hurry either to give it to me or to leave.

Braden came in. "Sorry, I didn't know you were with anybody."

"No, this is Tinny Byrd. He's the investigator I've told you about." Tinny stood and shook Braden's hand and studied his face. "Nice to meet you, Braden."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Byrd." Braden turned to me and said, "I'll come back later."

"Since you're here, what do you have?"

"I finished that memo you have on-" Braden paused, looking at Tinny. "The phone call."

"Right. Thanks, I'll come talk to you about it later. Thanks."

Tinny sat back down in the chair opposite me, and Braden went back to his office.

Byrd looked confused. "Where did he come from? I've never met him before."

"New guy. I needed some help."

"He all right?"

"Yeah, I think he's tired. He's been up late nights working. He works his butt off. He's here all hours of the day. What do you have?"

Byrd closed the door and sat back down. He leaned forward and handed me the envelope and began to speak quietly. "The meeting. You wanted to know who A3 was going to see at Camp David."

I was stunned. "You found out who was at Camp David?"

"No, not yet, not about that exactly. But I'm getting him to talk about other things. Trying to lubricate the communications between us. By the way, he thinks all this stuff about WorldCopter is bullshit. He thinks something bad happened. Something real bad."

"Like an assassination?"

"I don't know if he'd go that far. He's not involved in any of the investigations. He just has a feeling."

"That's real helpful. Maybe I can call him as a witness and he can testify about his feelings."

"Don't be a smart-ass," Byrd said. "I may get something out of him, maybe something we can use. I don't know. He's tough, but he knows what was going on at Camp David, and I can tell just as sure as shit he thinks whatever it was that was going on is related to the crash. Too much of a coincidence."

"So what was going on?"

"Won't say. But it was huge. He just shakes his head. Says he may have to go to his grave with this. And he doesn't think the NTSB is even looking in the right place. He doesn't trust them."

"How do we get him to talk about it?"

"I'm working it, Michael, I'm working it." Byrd reached into his pocket. "Oh, I almost forgot." He handed me the key from The Virginian. "Interesting key."

"What'd you find out?"

"That is one stuck-up, stiff-assed place, that's what. They cater to the big shots of the world and all the politicos. And their mistresses, of course. They wouldn't tell me shit."

"Well, thanks-"

"I didn't say I didn't find anything out. You doubt me?"

"What you got?"

"I found one lady who was willing to help."

"You always do."

"Pretty much. Anyway, I gave her the names of everyone on the helicopter. None of them had a room there in the last month."

"What about the key?"

"Interesting. Not for a room."

"What was it for?"

"You know how they have small, secret conference rooms in some hotels? You don't even know they're there? Rooms that don't even have numbers? It was one of those."