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have that the cops don't know about. And maybe they've got a whole of
information that we don't know."
Gerard opened his cigar case and found that it was empty. He tossed it onto
the table, and stuck his hands into his pockets with undisguised glumness.
"All right," he said. "But you realize that I'm heavily implicated in all of
this? If I go down to police headquarters with you, they're going to bust me,
too."
"You stay here, then," said Jerry. "Maybe you can do me a favor and keep an
eye on David; although why I'm entrusting you with the same boy you just
kidnapped, I don't know."
"You can trust me," Gerard told him. "Just give me a
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call if you hear anything about Eva and the girls."
"Sure," Jerry told him. "Mack? Maurice? Olive? You want to go?"
Down at police headquarters, accompanied by a sweaty and pasty-faced Skrolnik,
who was exhausted after a long and futile night of questioning, arguing, and
delicatessen coffee, they stared at Mr. Esmeralda through the two-way mirror
in the side of his cell. Jerry said with certainty, "That's the man I saw at
Orchid Place, the day Sherry Cantor was murdered."
"You're sure of that?" asked Skrolnik.
"Positive. He was standing in the street, watching my house. I remember
thinking that he looked like somebody out of an old Humphrey Bogart movie."
"We think he's the ringleader," said Skrolnik.
Detective Pullet came into the room just then and gave Maurice a funny,
half-apologetic smile. "We're still getting in data from the CIA on
Esmeralda's activities abroad. Apparently he's been dealing with arms and
drugs and stolen antique furniture like he's Ralph's or something. Hello, Mr.
Needs. Glad you could be here."
"The pleasure's mutual," said Maurice. "How's the lateral thinking?"
"Still going strong," said Pullet. "We'll crack this business before you know
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it."
"Not if you think that Esmeralda is the ringleader," Jerry told him.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Skrolnik demanded.
Jerry said, "Is there some place where we can talk? In private?"
"Sure," grunted Skrolnik. "Come across to Welch's and watch me eat breakfast.
You like corned-beef hash? They do the best."
Tengu CHAPTER NINETEEN
357
Mr. Esmeralda was released on $50,000 bail at two o'clock that afternoon, and
told that he was not to leave the city of Los Angeles. His attorney told Judge
T. N. Slattery that his client was "a pillar of international goodwill." The
prosecution raised no objection to the granting of bail, especially since Mr.
Esmeralda had no previous criminal record in the United States, and had once
been decorated by President Sukarno of Indonesia for "services to the people
of Djokjakarta and Surakarta."
Immediately after he left the courthouse in the company of his lawyer, Mr.
Esmeralda caught a taxi to his address on Camden Drive, where he stayed for
two hours, until just after 4:20 P.M., talking on the telephone. All of his
conversations during this period were tapped by the police, under the
jurisdiction of a special warrant.
His first call was to Mercury Custom Air Services, at Torrance Municipal
Airport, confirming his booking of a Gulfstream III for 7:45 that evening.
Destination: Liberal, Kansas.
"Liberal, Kansas?" asked Skrolnik, wrinkling up his nose.
Pullet said, "I'll check with the private air services at Liberal. He's bound
to be using it as nothing more than a stopover.''
The next call that Mr. Esmeralda made was to Twentieth-Century Bandbox, a
dry-cleaning company, asking them to send over his two white suits and six
shirts.
The third call was more mysterious. It was traced to the number of a house in
Laurel Canyon. Mr. Esmeralda said, "Tell Kappa I was picked up by the police
for a traffic offense. A rearender, nothing serious. I'm out now, and
everything's fine for tonight. Everything's arranged. Kappa can leave
immediately away for Marina del Key. Yes, I know. But tell him everything's
fine. I'll come to the house at seven precisely and make sure that
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everything's going smoothly. How's the Tengu? You did the Hour of Fire? He's
fine? Okay, doctor. Okay. That's good. Tonight's the night, then. I'll see you
when I see you. Just one thing Kuan-yin's all right? What? You're sure about
that? Very well. All right. Take care of that Tengu."
The fourth call was to a man called John O'Toole, of O'Toole's Luxury Yachts,
at Tahiti Way, Marina del Key.
"The yacht is ready, Mr. O'Toole? That's excellent. My clients will be ready
to leave in less than an hour. Very well. No, you have no need to do that.
Good. And, listen, you don't have to worry about yesterday. I know who that
man was, the one who answered the phone at the ranch. You have nothing to
worry about. Yes. That's right. Thank you."
Skrolnik listened to the last conversation and sat back in his swivel chair.
"Tonight's the night, then? And they're going to do something with that Tengu
of theirs?"
"That's right," Jerry nodded.
"He didn't give any indication, did he? No indication at all."
"I'd bust him now, if I were you," said Mack.
Skrolnik shook his head. "I've learned my lesson often enough, Mr. Holt. You
don't jump on anybody until they're actually involved in the commission of a
crime, in flagrante. The times I've gone to court with wiretaps that would
make your curly hair stand on end, and had them thrown out because conspiracy
to commit a crime, without the crime having actually been committed, is one of
the hardest imaginable offenses to prove. All Esmeralda has to do is say, 'I
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