Free Birds of a Feather by Don Easton Page A

and his partner … or ex-partner now, were always working on their own and taking unnecessary risks.”
    â€œDid they get any positive results in their invest-igations?” White asked.
    Davidson sat forward in his chair, momentarily drumming his fingers on his desk before replying. “Yes, I would have to admit they did,” he replied. “Adams was good at developing confidential sources. It gave him an advantage.”
    â€œDoes he have lots of friends in the office?”
    â€œNo. I would say none. He is more of a loner type.”
    â€œWhat about Greg Patton? Isn’t he close to him?”
    Davidson shrugged. “I think the type of high-risk work Adams does, combined with his pattern of continually ignoring policy, necessitated that he trust his partner. I’m sure the two men are close, but other than Patton, Adams pretty much sticks to himself.”
    â€œI was wondering if he might have already confided to someone about what he does.”
    â€œMaybe his wife, I don’t know. With the psycho-logical mess Patton is in right now, I doubt he would even tell him.”
    â€œI can’t make Adams’s wife testify against him, regardless.”
    â€œHow do you want to play it when he comes in?”
    â€œNo doubt he acted out of a blind rage, but now he has to realize he did what he did in broad daylight and in front of numerous witnesses. He’ll know he’s caught. We’ll be polite, but lay our cards on the table. We can even sympathize with him a little for what prompted his rage.”
    â€œWhat do you think he’s looking at for jail time?”
    â€œWith his co-operation, an understanding judge might go along with a twenty-four- to twenty-eight-year sentence.”
    Davidson shook his head sadly. “He’ll have to spend it in solitary.”
    â€œIt was his choice to do what he did.” White took another sip of coffee and made a face. “God, this stuff is awful.”
    â€œHe may demand a lawyer … or even arrive with one.”
    â€œPossible, but I doubt it. In my experience, law-enforcement types who have crossed the line feel so guilty they are actually relieved to confess. You know him, so sit close and play the role of a sympathizer. I’ll tell him I can make a submission to a judge for an agreed sentence. Once he admits it, I’ll step out while you officially give him his rights and record a full confession. I’ll bet you a dinner he doesn’t request a lawyer.”
    Adams arrived and nodded silently as Davidson introduced him to Norman White. The three men sat down, with White behind the desk while Davidson sat beside Adams, his chair arranged at a right angle to face him.
    â€œMr. Davidson is present because he is with the FBI, and your own boss with Customs, could be viewed as lacking impartiality,” said White.
    â€œSo I heard,” replied Adams. “Mind telling me what this is all about?”
    â€œYou were seen, John,” said Davidson, softly. “Two days ago at the Red Poker.”
    â€œI was seen?”
    â€œThree of Chico’s guys were right there,” said Davidson.
    â€œNot only by those three men,” added White, “but by independent witnesses in two other cars who saw you cuff him and put him in your own car before absconding with him.”
    â€œSo I picked him up. What’s the big deal?” replied Adams.
    â€œHis body was found yesterday,” said White. “Shot with his own gun.”
    â€œBarely even off the road,” added Davidson. “It was like you wanted it to be found.”
    â€œIf he was murdered, I’m not responsible,” stated Adams firmly.
    â€œLook, John, we know you’re a Special Forces operative who sometimes goes on secret missions,” said Davidson, “but this obviously wasn’t one of them. Nobody is going to come forward and say you were authorized.”
    â€œAuthorized to do