At 11:40, an agent dressed in shorts and sandals entered the front door and browsed for a few minutes. He did not see Cable. With cash, he bought an audio version of Lonesome Dove and left the store. In the first van, a technician opened the case, removed the eight CDs, and installed a tiny video camera and a battery.
At 12:15, Cable left with an unknown person and walked down the street to lunch. Five minutes later, another agent, a woman also in shorts and sandals, entered the store with the Lonesome Dove audio case. She bought coffee upstairs, killed some time, returned to the ground floor, and selected two paperbacks. When the clerk went to the rear, the agent deftly returned the Lonesome Dove case to the audio rack and took the one next to it, The Last Picture Show. She eventually paid for the paperbacks and the audio and asked the clerk about a good place for lunch. In the first van, the agents stared at a laptop. From the inside, they now had a perfect frontal view of everyone entering the store. They could only hope that no one would want to listen to Lonesome Dove anytime soon.
At 12:31, the chartered jet landed at the small airport on Camino Island, ten minutes from downtown Santa Rosa. Rick and Graham were there to meet Elaine and her two associates. Two SUVs picked up Bradshaw and his crew. Because it was Monday, hotel rooms were available, for a few days anyway, and several had been reserved at a hotel near the harbor, less than a five-minute walk from the bookstore. Bradshaw took the largest suite and set up his command post. Laptops were arranged on a table, and the video surveillance from the cameras ran nonstop.
After a quick lunch, Mercer arrived at the suite and a flurry of introductions followed. She was startled at the show of manpower, and felt ill with the thought that she had unleashed all these people on an unsuspecting Bruce Cable.
With Elaine in the background, she was interrogated by Bradshaw and another special agent named Vanno. She retold her story, leaving out nothing but the intimate details of her long weekend, a rather romantic little fling that now seemed like a nostalgic romp from long ago. Bradshaw walked her through a series of high-density photographs of the Fitzgerald manuscripts taken years earlier by Princeton. Elaine had the same set and Mercer had seen it all before. Yes, yes, in her opinion, what she had seen last night in the basement vault was the original Tycoon.
Yes, it could be a fake. Anything is possible, but she didn’t think so. Why would Bruce be so protective of a fake manuscript?
When Bradshaw repeated a question for the third time, and did so with a tone of suspicion, Mercer bristled and asked, “Aren’t we on the same team here?”
Vanno eased in with a soft “Of course we are, Mercer, we just need to get everything right.”
“I got it right, okay?”
After an hour of back-and-forth, Mercer was convinced that Elaine Shelby was smarter and much smoother than Bradshaw and Vanno. Elaine, though, had handed her off to the FBI, and there was no doubt they would run the show until the end. During a break, Bradshaw took a call from an Assistant U.S. Attorney in Jacksonville and things got tense. It seemed as though the federal magistrate there was insisting on a closed hearing with “the witness” present, as opposed to allowing “the witness” to testify by video. This upset Bradshaw and Vanno, but they got nowhere.
At 2:15, Mercer was loaded into a car with Rick behind the wheel and Graham riding shotgun and Elaine in the rear seat with her. They followed an SUV loaded with FBI agents off the island and in the direction of Jacksonville. On the bridge over the Camino River, Mercer broke the ice with an unpleasant “So, let’s have it. What’s going on?”
Rick and Graham stared straight ahead and said nothing. Elaine cleared her throat and said, “It’s all federal crap, your tax dollars at work. Federal Agent Bradshaw is pissed off at the U.S. Attorney for this district, he’s federal too, and everybody seems pissed off at the federal magistrate, who does the search warrants. They thought they had an understanding whereby you could stay on the island and give your statement by video. Bradshaw says they do it all the time, but for some reason this federal magistrate wants to hear you in person. So, we’re headed for court.”
“Court? You never said anything about going to court.”
“The federal court building. We’ll probably meet with the magistrate in private, back in his office or something. Don’t worry.”
“Easy for you to say. I have a question. If Cable is arrested, can he go to trial, even though he’s caught red-handed with the stolen manuscript?”
Elaine looked up front and said, “Graham, you’re the lawyer.”
Graham snorted as if it were a joke. “I have a law degree but never used it. But, no, a defendant cannot be forced to plead guilty. Therefore, anyone charged with a crime can insist on a trial. It won’t happen, though, not in this case.”
“And why not?”
“If Cable has the manuscript, they will put enormous pressure on him to squeal. Recovering all five is far more important than punishing the thieves and crooks. They’ll offer Cable all manner of sweet deals to spill his guts and lead them to the others. We have no idea how much he knows, but you can bet he’ll start singing to save his ass.”
“But if by chance he went on trial, there’s no way I would be called as a witness, right?”
All three were silent as Mercer waited. After a long, uncomfortable pause, she said, “Look, Elaine, you never mentioned anything about going to court, and you damned sure didn’t tell me I might have to testify against Cable. I won’t do it.”
Elaine tried to soothe her. “You won’t have to testify, Mercer, believe me. You’re doing a great job and we’re very proud of you.”
“Don’t patronize me, Elaine,” Mercer snapped, more harshly than she intended. No one spoke for a long time but the tension remained. They were on Interstate 95 going south and entering the sprawl of Jacksonville.
The U.S. Courthouse was a tall modern building with many levels and lots of glass. They were waved through a side entrance and parked in a small reserved lot. The FBI agents practically surrounded Mercer as if she needed protection. The elevator was crowded with her entourage. Minutes later they entered the offices of the U.S. Attorney, Middle District of Florida, and were directed to a conference room where the waiting began. Bradshaw and Vanno yanked out their cell phones and began muted conversations. Elaine was talking to Bethesda. Rick and Graham had important calls. Mercer sat alone at the massive table with no one to chat with.
After twenty minutes or so, an earnest young man in a dark suit—hell they all wore dark suits—entered with a purposeful air and introduced himself as Janeway, an Assistant U.S. Attorney of some variety. He explained to the crowd that the magistrate, a Judge Philby, was tied up in a life-or-death hearing, and, well, it might take some time. Janeway said he would like to cover Mercer’s testimony, if that was all right.
Mercer shrugged. Did she really have a choice?