"That's fine;'Yarber said. "The account will be in my name only"
Argrow looked at Beech and Spicer, and they nodded their approval. "Very well. I assume you have a plan of some sort."
"We do;" Spicer said. "Mr.Yarber here will leave for London this afternoon, and when he gets there he'll go to the bank and take care of the money. If all goes well, then we'll leave soon afterward."
"I assure you things will go well."
"And we believe you.We're just being careful."
Argrow handed two sheets of paper to Finn. "I need your signature to start the wire and open the account." Yarber scribbled his name.
"Have you had lunch?" he asked.
They shook their heads. Lunch was certainly on their minds, but they weren't sure how to proceed.
"You're free men now. There are some nice restaurants just a few blocks from here. Go enjoy yourselves. Give me an hour to start the wire. Let's meet here at two-thirty."
Spicer was holding the pillowcase. He sort of waved it at Argrow and said, "Here are the files."
"Right. Just throw them on the sofa there."
Chapter Thirty-Eight
They left the hotel on foot, without escorts, without restrictions, but with their pardons in their pockets, just in case. And though the sun was warmer near the beach, the air was certainly lighter. The sky was dearer. The world was pretty again. Hope filled the air. They smiled and laughed at almost anything. They strolled along Atlantic Boulevard, and mixed easily with the tourists.
Lunch was steak and beer at a sidewalk cafe, under an umbrella, so they could watch the foot traffic. Little was said as they ate and drank. Everything was seen, though, especially the younger ladies in shorts and skimpy tops. Prison had turned them into old men. Now they felt the urge to party.
Especially Hadee Beech. He'd had wealth and status and ambition, and as a federal judge he'd had what was all but impossible to lose-a lifetime appointment. He'd fallen hard, lost everything, and during his first two years at Trumble he'd existed in a state of depression. He had accepted the fact that he would die there, and he'd seriously considered suicide. Now, at the age of fifty-six, he was emerging from the darkness in a rather splendid fashion. He was fifteen pounds lighter, nicely tanned, in good health, divorced from a woman who had money but not much else to offer, and about to collect a fortune. Not a bad middle-aged rally, he told himself. He missed his children, but they'd followed the money and forgotten about him.
Hadee Beech was ready for some fun.
Spicer was also looking for a party, preferably one at a casino. His wife had no passport, so it would be a few weeks before she could join him in London, or wherever he might land. Did they have casinos in Europe? Beech thought so.Yarber had no idea, and didn't care.
Finn was the most reserved of the three. He drank a soda instead of beer, and he wasn't as interested in the flesh passing by Finn was already in Europe. He'd never leave, never return to his native land. He was sixty, very fit, now with lots of money, and was about to bum around Italy and Greece for the next ten years.
Across the street, they found a small bookstore and bought several travel books. In a shop specializing in beachwear, they found just the right sunglasses.Then it was time to see Jack Argrow again, and finish the deal.
Klockner and company watched them stroll back to the Sea Turtle. Klockner and company were weary of Neptune Beach and Pete's and the Sea Turtle and the crowded rental. Six agents, including Chap and Wes, were still there, all very anxious for another assignment. The unit had discovered the Brethren, plucked them from inside Trumble, brought them to the beach, and now they just wanted them to leave the country.
Jack Argrow had not touched the files, or at least they appeared untouched. They were still wrapped in the pillowcase, on the sofa, in the exact spot Spicer had left them.
"The wire is under way;'Argrow said as they settled into his suite.
Teddy was still watching from Langley. The three were now wearing all manner of beach garb. Yarber had a fishing cap with a six-inch bill. Spicer had a straw hat and a yellow tee shirt of some variety Beech, the Republican, wore khaki shorts, a knit pullover, and a golf cap.
There were three large envelopes on the dining table. Argrow handed one to each of the Brethren. "Inside, you'll find your new identities. Birth certificates, credit cards, Social Security cards."
"What about passports?" askedYarber.
"We have a camera set up in the next room. The passports and driver's licenses will need photos. It'll take thirty minutes. There's also five thousand dollars cash in those small envelopes there."
"I'm Harvey Moss?" Spicer asked, looking at his birth certificate.
"Yes.You don't like Harvey?"
"I guess I do now"
"You look like a Harvey," Beech said.
"And who are you?"
"Well, I'm James Nunley."
"Nice to meet you, James. "
Argrow never cracked a smile, never relaxed for a second. "I need to know your travel plans. The people in Washington really want you out of the country."
"I need to check flights to London;'Yarber said.
"We've already done that. A flight to Atlanta leaves Jacksonville in two hours. At seven-ten tonight, there's a flight leaving Atlanta for London Heathrow that arrives early tomorrow morning."
"Can you get me a seat?"
"It's already done. First class."
Finn closed his eyes and smiled.
"And what about you?" Argrow asked, looking at the other two."
"I kinda like it here;" Spicer said.
"Sorry. We have a deal."
"We'll take the same flights tomorrow;" Beech said. "Assuming all goes well with Mr.Yarber."
"Do you want us to handle the reservations?"
"Yes, please."
Chap eased into the room without making a sound, and took the pillowcase from the sofa. He left with the files.
"Let's do the photos,"Argrow said.
Finn Yarber, now traveling as a Mr. William McCoy of San Jose, California, flew to Atlanta without incident. For an hour he walked the concourses of the airport, rode the underground shuttles, and thoroughly enjoyed the frenzy and chaos of being in the midst of a million people in a hurry.
His first-class seat was a massive leather recliner. After two glasses of champagne, he began to drift, and to dream. He was afraid to sleep because he was afraid to wake up. He was certain he would be back on his top bunk, staring at the ceiling, counting off another day at Trumble.
From a pay phone next to Beach Java, Joe Roy finally caught his wife. At first, she thought the call was a hoax and refused to accept the collect charges: "Who is this?" she asked.
"It's me, dear. I'm no longer in prison."
"Joe Roy?"
"Yes, now listen. I'm out of prison, okay. Are you there?"
"I think so.Where are you?"
"I'm staying at a hotel near Jacksonville, Florida. I was released from prison this morning."
"Released? But how-"
"Don't ask, okay. I'll explain everything later. I'm leaving tomorrow for London. I want you to go to the post office first thing in the morning, and get an application for a passport."
"London? Did you say London?"
"Yes."
"England?"
"That's it, yes. I have to go there for a while. It's part of the deal."
"For how long?"
"A couple of years. Listen, I know it's hard to believe, but I'm free and were gonna live abroad for a couple of years."