"That's all I'm asking for."
"Here's the deal. The FBI has to prove itself to me, convince me that they're willing to deal. So I want you to tell them to get me some privileges here. If they can do that, I'll talk. That will show me they're dealing in good faith."
"What do you want?"
"I want to get back on the prison pet program." "What's that?"
"It's a special program here. Some of the inmates get to keep dogs in their cells and train them. Then we give them away to handicapped people as pets. It's a nice thing.
Makes you feel like you're doing something worthwhile. I did it for about a year or so. They kicked me off."
"How come?"
"I let one of the dogs lick me."
Gus looked confused.
She added, "You don't want to know where."
"I see."
"It was stupid. Just a spur of the moment thing that grossed me out immediately. My luck I got caught."
"We all do stupid things."
"Anyway, I want back on the program. So this is a good way for the FBI to show me some good faith. If they can do a little something for me now, then I'll know they're taking me serious. Then you and me can talk."
"You can't just put the FBI to the test. You have to give up something in return."
"I told you, I'm not going to spill my guts for nothing."
"Just give them something little. This is a negotiation, Shirley. You can't expect people to do something because you want to test them. You have to horse-trade."
She studied him, thinking. "Okay. I'll give you a little something."
His eyes lit. "Tell me."
"In Yakima there's a used-clothing store called Second Chance. Lots of migrant workers shop there. Mexican apple pickers, some Indians, too."
"What about it?"
"Check it out."
"Check it out for what?"
"Just check it out. Check it out yourself. That's all." "What do you mean, that's all?"
"That's all I'm going to tell you for now. You get me back on the prison pet program, I'll tell you more. You get a promise to reduce my sentence, I'll tell you everything." She leaned forward, arching an eyebrow. "You get me out of here tonight, I'll show you my full-blown rose."
Gus just stared.
"I'll wait to hear from you." She pushed away from the table, then hit the call button. A guard outside opened the door. She shot one more look, then disappeared behind the steel door.
Gus gathered up his things and hurried out in search of a phone.
Chapter Thirty-five.
Early Thursday morning Andie and her supervisor were in Isaac Underwood's office. She had told Lundquist all about the WCCW inmate and her unusual demands. Right off the bat they were in disagreement over how to follow up on the clothing-store lead. Andie felt strongly enough about it to appeal to the ASAC. Lundquist felt strongly enough to follow right along.
Isaac was seated behind his desk, directly in front of what was known throughout the office as "the wall of teeth and honor." Isaac had earned more award plaques and letters of commendation than any agent in the office, many of which were displayed in sprawling collage format behind his desk. In the center of it all were the teeth--the huge, gaping jaws of a tiger shark he had fished from the Indian Ocean. For such a nice guy, Isaac had become quite facile in the art of office intimidation.
Isaac was especially busy this morning. Though as ASAC he was technically second in command, he had been running the office since the special agent in charge had retired. Headquarters had yet to name a replacement. Isaac gave Andie ten minutes, not a second more. Run over the time allotted and the deadly jaws would come clamping down on your head. Andie spoke fast, summarizing for Isaac's benefit, then framing the issues.
"Granted," she said, "the fact that the inmate is incarcerated at a state penitentiary only complicates things. To do this by the book, we'd have to go through the U. S. attorney's office, which would contact the state attorney general's office, which would probably sit on it till Beth Wheatley dies of old age. Gus Wheatley's instincts are right, I believe. The situation doesn't give us the luxury of months, weeks, or even days to hammer out a deal with the bureaucracy."
Isaac asked, "Has anybody considered the possibility that we're dealing with some bored inmate who's yanking everybody's chain for the pure entertainment value of it?"
"Then how would she know about the bulimia? The shoplifting?"
"Valid point," said Isaac. "What are you proposing, Andie?"
"First, I need to get you on board. If this inmate's story starts to check out, it will take someone at least at the level of an ASAC to make some phone calls and get the bureaucracy moving."
"We can deal with that after things check out. So get out of here and go follow your leads."
Lundquist said, "That's really why we're here. There's some disagreement as to how we should check out that used-clothing store."