Rarities Unlimited 04 - The Color of Death

stayed long enough in the Bureau, he’d end up in Fargo, North Dakota, the FBI’s graveyardfor special agents who had pissed off their SSAs. But he was sixteen years into his twenty and figured if it came to that, he could do his last four in Fargo.
    Hell, men survived in prison longer, right?
    “Any of the metro PDs have anything to report?” Kennedy asked, looking around the room with pale blue eyes.
    “Nothing yet,” Mario said. “A pawnshop and a 7-Eleven were robbed by Hispanics, but none of the gem shipments that are coming in for the show have been touched. At least I assume they’re coming in?” He looked at Sizemore for confirmation.
    “Several times a day,” Sizemore said. “Right, Sharon?”
    “Next one is due in Sky Harbor Airport this afternoon, via Mandel, Inc., a courier service,” Sharon said crisply. “The courier’s identity and flight haven’t been released for security reasons, but if required, we will advise Mandel, Inc. to cooperate with the FBI.”
    “Damn straight,” Sizemore said. He leaned sideways, snagged another beer, and twisted the top off the bottle. “These South Americans have spies and informers everywhere. Toughest, smartest bunch of…”
    Sam tuned out and hoped what he was thinking didn’t show, but he doubted it. He’d had three months to listen to Sizemore hark back to the good old days when he’d become the Legend by overseeing the crime strike force that dismantled three South American gangs that had been operating out of Miami, Manhattan, and Chicago. Murder, mayhem, robbery, rape—the gangs were good for all of them.
    And Sizemore would be happy to talk about all of it for hours. An agent’s glory days were hard to leave behind.
    “You have something you want to say?” Sizemore challenged Sam.
    “Bringing those gangs down was a fine piece of investigative work, no doubt about it,” Sam said. He knew he should stop there. He didn’t. “But that was what—fifteen years ago? The world has changed.”
    “Crooks don’t change,” Sizemore said, pinning Sam with cold brown eyes. “Crooks were assholes then and they’re assholes now.”
    “Right,” Sam said easily. “All that changes are the names and countries of the players. We’ve got a smorgasbord of nationalities to choose from. If we concentrate only on the South Americans, then we run the risk of overlooking—”
    “Oh, Jesus,” Kennedy cut in, “you’re not off on your wild-assed Teflon gang theory again, are you?”
    “I call them the Teflon gang because nothing sticks to them, not even blood,” Sam said neutrally. “They’re cold enough to kill and smart enough to stay off our radar.”
    “Bullshit,” Sizemore said roughly. “No one’s heard anything solid about a new gang that concentrates on couriers, and we’ve all heard a hell of a lot about the South Americans.”
    “The number of robberies has gone way up in the past few years, but the hits that street talk pins on the South Americans has stayed about the same,” Sam said. “Plus, the couriers carrying unique goods are being hit. That’s what made me think a new gang was at work. When I started comparing—”
    “Like you can believe mutts on the street to tell the truth,” Kennedy cut in sarcastically. “Stop wasting the taxpayer’s time. I need more evidence than gossip and an agent with a wild hair.”
    “If we’re not looking, we’ll never find more evidence,” Sam said. “Sir.”
    “We’re not looking,” Sizemore said, “because there’s sweet fuck all to find except South Americans.”
    Doug caught Sam’s eye.
    Sam thought about the career opportunities in Fargo, ND.
    Kennedy went back to his agenda. “Doug will give you your assignments. For the next week, most of you will be checking hotels for gang members known to the strike force, with special attention to the Royale. Mario and Mendoza will interview the hotel’s workers from the floor managers on down.”
    “Don’t mention immigration status,” the LAPD cop said. “If the illegals run, there won’t be a maid or gardener left in Scottsdale.”
    “And all of you,” Kennedy said over the laughter, “take a good look at the information Ted brought with him. The more you knowthe big gem dealers and their staff, the faster you’ll be able to catch somebody who doesn’t belong, somebody who’s wrong .”
    “Like the woman Sam collared just before the meeting?” Bill Colton asked.
    Sam looked at the SA from his own Phoenix