**** **** ****
“It looks like somebody’s declared open season up in Hazzard,” Roger Kelley said to Commander Mayson later that afternoon in Mayson’s office. “Got a call from Rosco. Gunmen in a white Chevy Suburban tried to kill Enos. Same white Suburban from this morning that tried to kill MaryAnne…”
“And the same white Suburban that did kill Jay and his crew and two of my agents the other morning,” Mayson said.
“More than likely. It looks like somebody’s looking for complete payback for spoiling that hit in Chattanooga.” Kelley held two folders in his hand. “We got a match on those finger prints too. Couple of real beauties…” He handed the files to Mayson.
The Commander opened the first one and read the info. “Nicky Peterson. Hitman. California…”
“Yeah, the other guy too, Murphy Jones. Both are LA talent, sent special looks like.”
“Did you crosscheck known associates?”
“Yeah, there’s a list there…”
Mayson flipped the page in Nicky’s file. “Cripes, what is this, the LA phonebook?”
“My guess is these guys are freelancers. Soldiers of fortune or some such. I thought to have Maxwell look at it, he might recognize the names.”
Mayson nodded and closed the folders. He stood up with them. “Let’s go have a chat with Agent Maxwell…” Commander Mayson led Agent Kelley out of his office.
Down the hall in the bullpen, Bill was at a filing cabinet putting away a file. He looked over as Mayson and Kelley walked in.
“Maxwell,” Mayson called. Bill walked across the bullpen and met the two agents at his desk. The Commander handed him the folders. “Looks like our assassins have branched out.”
Bill accepted the folders. “Oh?”
“These two guys are up north, in Hazzard. They tried to kill Deputy Coltrane this morning and Deputy Strate this afternoon.”
Bill looked up, surprised. “They ok?”
“For now. These two dropped their guns when they went after MaryAnne. She and her cousin were able to get prints off the guns. Also, she and Enos both ID’d a white Suburban, same description as the truck from the highway attack the other morning.”
“Oh ho boy, somebody’s really trying to clean house…” Bill looked at the first file. Moose.
“These hitmen are from LA,” Kelley said. “Any chance you recognize their names?”
Bill nodded. “Yeah, I’ve heard of this cutie here. Murphy ‘Moose’ Jones.” Bill looked at the last known mug shot of Moose. “Heh. Appropriate nickname. Definitely the guy that tried to crush my larynx yesterday.”
Mayson was surprised. “You sure?”
“Oh yeah. I saw him, except when he had his arm around my neck. The other two guys called him Moose. Obviously he wasn’t happy he couldn’t finish the job, tried to make my head a hood ornament...” Bill closed the folder and looked at the other one. “Who we got here? Oh lookie here, Nicholas ‘Nicky’ Peterson. Yup, I’ve heard of this guy too….” Bill looked at Nicky’s mug. “....and that’s definitely the guy that took the shots at me yesterday.”
“You recognize both of these men as having attacked you yesterday?” Mayson asked.
“No doubt, Commander.”
Mayson was confused. “And they’re up north today…”
“But they didn’t get Maxwell yesterday,” Kelley said.
“No…” Mayson looked at the file in Bill’s hand, trying to figure it. He looked at Bill. “There were three men tried to kill you yesterday, right?”
“Four, actually. Detective Franklin over at APD told me he chased these guys down to the first floor and somebody was waiting in getaway car.”
“Maybe they’ve split up?” Kelley asked.
“Possible,” Mayson replied.
Bill nodded. “They may be working on a deadline – uh ,for lack of a better term. They’re overdue on taking me out, and it sounds like they’re not going to have an easy time up in Hazzard either.”
Mayson shook his head. “No, they won’t. I wonder…”
The phone on Bill’s desk suddenly rang. Bill excused himself and answered it. “Maxwell.”
Somewhere in downtown Atlanta, Piper was on a payphone. “Agent Maxwell, I have some information in regards to the attack on the highway the other morning where two agents were killed.”
Commander Mayson and Agent Kelley had started to walk away from Bill’s desk while he took the phone call. Bill snapped his fingers at them, getting their attention and he pointed to one of the other phone extensions on another desk. “Uh, information on the highway attack?” he said to the caller and for the benefit of Mayson. “Well, we’re always interested in information…”
Mayson carefully picked up a nearby phone and pressed a button to connect to Bill’s line, while Bill continued. “…how about a name? You got a name to start with?”
“What I have, Agent Maxwell, is very specific information about who was behind that hit. I’d prefer to not just broadcast it over an unsecured telephone line.”
“Well, the front door of the bureau is always open. C’mon by, I’ll put the coffee on, we’ll have a nice chat.”
“I’m not exactly somebody who should be walking into FBI headquarters.”
“Oh. Wrap sheet huh? Got some outstanding warrants maybe? Looking to trade I suppose…”
“I’m caught between two sides of the law, Agent Maxwell. Unfortunately, my odds stand better with you and the FBI, but I’m not about to go running into arms that truthfully, will not be happy to see me.”
Bill exchanged a look with Commander Mayson. Mayson wasn’t sure what to make of it either but he gestured to Bill to keep the conversation going.
“Well then, if you’re willing to provide us information the least we can do is give it a listen. But if you don’t want to talk over the phone and you don’t want come down here to the bureau…how exactly would you like to relay it? Carrier pigeon? Western Union?”
“In person,” Piper said. “And in a public place.”
“All right. Before we make a date here though I gotta know if you wanna go Dutch or not.”
“What do you mean?”
“You gotta give me something here so that I know my making this trip is gonna be worth it. You know who’s behind the hit. You have names?”
“I have names. I have everything the Feds need to know who was behind the hit without a doubt. “
“You gotta give me something more than that. Just a little tidbit. C’mon…”
Piper paused. Maxwell needed more than just the hook to be baited. He needed the shiner, the little piece of information that would make him go for everything, hook, line and sinker. Piper wasn’t about to give away everything but figured to risk just enough to lure Maxwell out. The Fed would be dead before any information could be further investigated anyway.
“The people responsible are not local. They’re out of state.”
Bill exchanged a glance with Mayson. “Okay,” he said. “By any chance is it the same out of state interests who ordered the hit on the governors?”
“Nowww we’re getting somewhere,” Bill said. “Our California interests aren’t happy that the hit on the governors failed are they?”
“They are not.”
“Why would interests in California care about killing some southern governors to begin with?”
Piper chuckled. “Agent Maxwell, I would be more than happy to explain everything to you in person if you’re willing to take the chance to meet with me.”
“Did you by any chance assist these out of towners with the attack on the highway the other day?”
“My connections are complicated, Agent Maxwell. My information, however, is good. You spoke earlier about a trade. I am looking to make deal. I can’t give it all away on the phone though.”
“Awright. In a public place, that right?”
“The Atlanta Zoo.”
Bill glanced at Mayson who raised an eyebrow.
“Okay,” Bill said. “That’s public enough.”
“It’s public, there’s a crowd of people. You and I having a chat won’t draw hardly a second glance from anybody. And I would prefer to deal one on one with you, Agent Maxwell. There’s no need for you to bring a posse.”
Mayson was frowning now. Bill was finding the situation a little odd too but he continued to play the hand. “Okay. Whereabouts in the zoo?”
“The rhino display. Tomorrow, noon time.”
Bill glanced at Mayson, who nodded begrudgingly. “Okay. I’ll be there.”
“How will I know you?” Piper asked, pretending he didn’t know.
“You can’t miss me,” Bill replied. “I’ll probably be the only guy standing there in a three-piece suit with sunglasses looking like General MacArthur. And I’ll have a nice bandage on my hand. How will I know you?”
“You’ll know it’s me. I’ll be the guy in a blue shirt with a moustache tapping on your shoulder. Noontime, tomorrow. Atlanta Zoo.”
“By the rhino display. High noon. I got it.” When Bill finished the phone call, he hung up and looked at Commander Mayson.
Mayson was frowning still. “That’s almost too good to be true. Very convenient, right when we could use it, the illustrious anonymous tip. I hate this pulp fiction cloak and dagger crap.”
“Agreed,” Bill said. “The least we can do is hear the guy out. He knows what we’ve suspected about the connection to California. He can probably name Noah Vincent directly.”
“Yeah…only you’re not going alone. You may be the only Fed he meets with, but you won’t be the only Fed in that park.”
“Atlanta Zoo, you mean,” Bill corrected.
“Grant Park?” Kelley said, looking at the Commander. “Municipal Zoo? That’s where the guy wants to meet?”
“Yeah…” Mayson realized something. “Yeah. He didn’t call it Municipal Zoo.”
“So?” Bill asked.
“Nobody calls it Atlanta Zoo. At least, not around here. It’s known as Municipal Zoo.”
Bill paused. “Then our informant isn’t local...”
“But he’s not lying.” Bill looked at Mayson and Kelley. “He knows everything about what happened on the highway the other morning.”
Mayson nodded. “Because he was there.” The Commander looked at Bill grimly. “And you’ve just been set up...”
**** **** ****
That night at the Boar’s Nest, MaryAnne was relieved when closing time finally came. After her hellacious morning and then spending the rest of the day functioning on about three hours of sleep, she was glad to see the day finally over. She was looking forward to returning to town and Boss’s house and getting some sleep.
Daisy sweetly announced that the bar was closing and ushered the last few patrons out the door, calling good night. All that remained were Bo, Luke and Cooter.
Over at the bar, MaryAnne hailed the day’s end. “I am so glad for this day to be over!” she said as she stepped toward the cash register to cash up for the night. “I only screwed up about twenty orders…”
Daisy smiled sympathetically. “Aw, MaryAnne, nobody got upset. After what happened to you this morning, everybody understood.”
“Yeah, but I hold myself to a higher standard. I prefer to only screw up ten orders a night…”
Bo, Luke and Cooter all chuckled. They got up from their table and helped Daisy to collect any leftover plates and beer mugs. “MaryAnne, you wouldn’t be a Coltrane otherwise,” Bo said.
“That’s what I mean,” MaryAnne said. “I have standards to live up to. Or is that to live down from?” She grinned and went about counting the money and entering it in the ledger book.
“I’m just glad those fellas, whoever they are, didn’t come here to the Boar’s Nest,” Daisy said. “Every time that door opened I looked up to see who was coming in.”
“Yeah,” Luke said. “Sure would like to know what those guys are doing in Hazzard tho.”
“And where they’re hiding,” Bo added. He looked toward MaryAnne. “Me n’ Luke drove around half of Hazzard this afternoon looking for that Suburban.”
“I can’t figure it,” MaryAnne said. “The fact that those guys went after Enos, instead of just running from him, makes me pause ya know?”
“They’re serious, that’s for sure,” Cooter said.
“They’re dangerous,” MaryAnne said. “And we’ll all be better off finding them and taking them out of commission before they go blowing into somebody else’s house at five o’clock in the morning.”
“MaryAnne, I hope you’re not going back home tonight after what happened,” Daisy said. “You’re welcome to say at the farm. Rosco too, if you can believe that.” She grinned.
The boys chuckled. “Yeah, Uncle Jesse wanted us to let you know you’re both welcome to stay with us if you want,” Bo said.
“I appreciate that, thank ya,” MaryAnne said. “Boss offered to let us stay in town at his house tonight.”
“You mean Lulu insisted,” Cooter said.
MaryAnne smiled. “You know it.”
“Were you and Rosco able to get any prints off those guns?” Cooter asked.
“We did and we sent them to the FBI. I gotta check with Rosco when I get back to town to see if he’s heard back from Mayson. I’m curious to know who these guys are and if we can shed any light on why they’re in Hazzard.”
While the Dukes, Cooter and MaryAnne were inside cleaning up the Boar’s Nest, outside up on the road, a white Suburban sat idling. Hugh, Nicky and Moose were all looking toward the roadhouse and could see the vehicles parked out front, including MaryAnne’s Firebird and the Dodge Charger they had met up with earlier that afternoon.
“Forget it,” Nicky said. “Let’s find a payphone and call Piper with a report. He’s going to be wondering what the hell we’ve been up to.”
Hugh put the Suburban in gear and the truck rolled away from the Boar’s Nest.
Closer toward town, they found a small country store – closed at this hour – but with payphone outside. Nicky slipped into the booth, dropped his coins in the phone and dialed Atlanta.
“Piper, it’s Nicky,” Nicky said after the call connected.
“Did you finish it?”
“No. These two are proving to be as tough as Maxwell. The lady deputy damn near blew my hands off with a shotgun and the other deputy, half the town rallied to his aid. I’m going to have to rethink how to strike these two.”
“Hmmm,” Piper said. It was a mix of both sympathy and disappointment.
“Any luck with Maxwell?” Nicky asked.
“Should be finished tomorrow at noontime. I’ve set him up to meet for a ‘tip’ about the highway attack. He took the bait. Once he’s taken care of I’ll head north and we’ll finish those two deputies so we can get the hell out of here.”
**** **** ****
A little before noon the next day, Bill stood in line at the entrance to Municipal Zoo with tourists and school kids. The sun was bright and the day’s heat was well settled in by this hour. As promised, however, he was dressed in a three-piece suit, brown, and wore his aviators. His hand, of course, was bandaged. He stuck out among the short and t-shirt wearing public he was mixed with and got a snicker or two from some of the kids, who nudged their friends and pointed at him. Bill ignored the rug rats, paid for his ticket and entered the zoo.
Beyond the entrance to the zoo, the city of Atlanta with her glass, steel and concrete, disappeared and Bill found himself in another world, on a well-worn dirt path with rustic wooden signs pointing the way to the rhino display. A dozen chattering kids were ahead of him and a teacher was calling to them to stay together.
Although Bill appeared obvious among the crowd, several of the “tourists” were actually Federal agents, including Commander Mayson. Mayson was already at the rhino display, standing by the wooden barricade made from tree trunks and pointing a camera toward one of the massive animals as it roamed inside its area. He looked like a tourist, wearing a University of Alabama t-shirt, Bermuda shorts and sneakers. Sunglasses and a safari hat topped off the look.
Since becoming bureau commander for Atlanta, it wasn’t often Mayson took part in any field operations. He decided to on this one because of the huge risk to public safety the FBI was taking in going through with this. It was the best chance they had to catch one of these killers, but it was the worst possible scenario with innocent by-standers and young children. It was the makings of nasty front-page headlines that the Atlanta bureau didn’t need.
Mayson did what he could to mitigate the situation. He spoke directly with zoo officials and asked them to direct the public away from the rhino at 12 o’clock and keep them away until the situation was over. Whatever “tourists” were near the rhino area after twelve, would all be Feds.
Although zoo officials cooperated, the head of the Municipal Zoo made no qualms about expressing his disappointment with Commander Mayson and the FBI’s scenario. Mayson offered that the FBI would do all it could to apprehend the individual as quickly as they could and without incident and the Commander made clear that he would accept full responsibility, for whatever was to happen.
While Mayson was dreading the whole situation, Maxwell was the beacon of hope. During the morning briefing, Bill shrugged off any concern of danger to himself, vowing instead that they would “catch the creep, grab him by the garbanzos, and take him down. Before he even knows what hit him.”
For Bill’s sake, and the FBI, Mayson hoped Maxwell was right.
Out of the corner of his eye, Mayson saw Bill step up to the barricade and look toward the lone rhino that was standing in its enclosure, looking back at the gawking humans. A moment later, Mayson stepped up beside him.
“Excuse me, sir,” Mayson said. It was a few minutes before 12 o’clock and there were still some members of the public near the enclosure. All schoolchildren, thankfully, had moved on. “Would you be so kind as to take a photo for me?”
Bill turned to the Commander with a smile that couldn’t be helped. Mayson looked different out of uniform. “Sure,” he said. He accepted the camera Mayson held out.
“You look through here, push this button…” Mayson said and then dropped his voice. “What the hell you snickering at?”
“Nothing. You look the part, sir.”
“That’s what my wife said to me this morning too, I’ll take that as a sign of success. Now…you know what’s gonna go down here. As soon as this guy approaches you, we’re moving in.”
“You got your vest on?”
“Yep. I’m melting as we speak.”
Mayson stepped back to the barricade and Bill moved so he could get a shot of the Commander and over Mayson’s shoulder, the rhino standing in the enclave. He raised the camera and took a picture. He advanced the film and held it up again. “One more…” he said. The camera clicked once more.
“Thanks a lot, I appreciate it,” Mayson said, stepping back to Bill. Bill handed the camera back. Mayson advanced the film and spoke quietly to Bill. “Be careful…”
“You got it…”
Mayson casually walked away from Bill. Bill stepped closer to the barricade and looked at his watch. It was five minutes to noon.
The minutes ticked away and when Bill looked at his watch again, it was after 12 o’clock. He turned and leaned against the barricade, folding his arms across his chest. The bullet resistant vest he wore was hot under his suit but he ignored it. He looked around at the few visitors nearby. There was one guy in a light blue t-shirt just a few feet away from Bill that had been lingering for a while, taking pictures. He didn’t have a moustache though.
Mayson had noticed the man too and was standing nearby. The other undercover Feds were watching the guy closely.
The man the Feds were all watching, however, wasn’t Piper. The assassin was one of the last people allowed to go in the direction of the rhino display and he was approaching the area with a few other zoo visitors. Although he had told Bill he would be wearing a blue shirt, he in fact was not. He wanted to get Maxwell completely by surprise. Piper had no idea of the surprise that was about to unfold.
The man in the blue t-shirt with the camera took a couple of pictures and then turned in Bill’s direction as he advanced his film. He looked at Bill. “Pardon me, could I stand where you are to take some pictures?”
Bill looked at the guy and hesitated. “Uh…are you…?”
The man cocked his head. “Am I what? A professional photographer? No. Well, I ain’t too bad I suppose, I just like to take photographs.” As the man spoke he reached into his shoulder bag, intending to pull out a new roll of film for his camera.
It was the kind of move that sent edgy Feds off the deep end. Suddenly, a dozen Federal agents, including Mayson and Bill himself all reacted and the hapless photographer found himself being surrounded and tackled down to the ground.
“What? Hey! What’s----AAHH!!”
The zoo visitors who weren’t Feds watched in horror and several scrambled away from the chaos. Piper stopped walking and saw the scene. He spotted Bill amongst what he now figured were undercover Federal agents. He couldn’t believe it. Somehow, they had suspected he was coming and were waiting for him!
Piper didn’t linger to watch the Feds place the idiot they had caught under arrest, despite the man’s vocal protests. He turned and headed back to the main entrance of the zoo.
Back by the rhino area, the innocent idiot was in hand cuffs with about a dozen Feds surrounding him. He looked back and forth between Commander Mayson and Agent Maxwell for some kind of explanation. They simply looked at him like he should already know.
“Who are you guys?” the man said. “My God, what have I done? I just wanted to take a picture…”
“Yeah, you were taking pictures all right,” Bill said. “Setting up a real classic portrait for today weren’t you?”
“I dunno what you’re talking about!”
“We’ll sort ‘em out at headquarters,” Mayson said and nodded to the gathered agents to haul the guy away. They obliged and escorted the man toward the entrance, with onlookers gawking at the spectacle, wondering what the man had done.
While Atlanta’s Feds were enjoying a premature victory, Piper was back at his sedan and was furious. He would never nail Maxwell at this rate and from what Nicky had said the previous night the two targets in Hazzard weren’t going to go down easily either. The divide and conquer method which should have worked, wasn’t and time was running out. Mr. Vincent would be expecting a report soon and Piper knew that the man wasn’t going to want to hear about another botched hit.
It would have to be all or nothing. Either Piper and his men nailed all three at once somehow, or they didn’t bother going back to California.
With that grim future in mind, Piper drove away from the Atlanta Zoo.
**** **** ****
Things weren’t turning out to be all that rosy at FBI headquarters in downtown Atlanta either. After Bill and Roger questioned Darrell Stevens, the photographer they arrested, they made their report to Commander Mayson.
“Well?” Mayson said, looking at the two agents standing before his desk in his office. Neither one looked particularly pleased.
“Well sir,” Kelley began, “we questioned the suspect thoroughly. Verified the information he gave us. He even agreed to submit to a polygraph.”
Bill answered now, to the point. “We got the wrong guy.”
Mayson blinked. “What?!”
“We got the wrong guy,” Bill repeated. “His name is Darrell Stevens, he’s from Marietta, Georgia. He’s an amateur photographer. Doesn’t own a gun. Has no record and all he knows of the highway attack the other morning is what he read in the newspaper!”
“He passed the polygraph with flying colors,” Roger added.
“I don’t believe this,” Mayson grumbled. “We’re not still holding him are we?”
“No sir, we let him go,” Roger said. “With apologies. Although he threatened to tell someone over at AJC.”
“Just what I don’t need. A front page headline…” Mayson put his hand up to illustrate the headline in the air in front of him. “Atlanta Feds Screw Up Again!”
“I wouldn’t worry, sir,” Bill said. “It’s not like we beat on the guy and locked him in a dark dungeon or anything. He’s mad at us now but he’ll get over it.”
“When this bureau screws up, Bill, it’s front page news. They’ll get wind of it somehow.”
“Despite that,” Roger said, “we’re no closer to catching any of these killers.”
“No, we’re not.” Mayson sighed. “I had the thought of sending some agents up to Hazzard to help nail the guys that are up there.”
“Excellent idea, sir,” Bill said. “I volunteer to go.”
Mayson looked up. “Uh, Bill, they’re after you too. There’s no need to go running right to them.”
“If I go to Hazzard then whoever’s after me here will follow eventually. That puts all of our players in one place. It contains it somewhat. With any luck we can avoid the debacle we had this morning. Either these killers nail me and the deputies all at once, or we nail them. Given the choice, I prefer to nail them.”
“You and this entire bureau,” Mayson said. He looked at Bill for a moment, considering the request. The bureau was on edge enough over the death of two its agents. The foul up at the zoo was really not going to put anybody in any better of a mood. These killers had to be stopped. But they had tried to kill Agent Maxwell no less than four times already and Mayson’s concern was how much longer Bill’s luck would hold out.
Maxwell wasn’t about to turn and run tail though, Mayson could tell. He met the veteran Fed’s gaze and Bill read the answer in the Commander’s expression.
“Okay then, it’s settled,” Bill said. “I’m going to Hazzard.”
“Kelley here’s going with you,” Mayson said. “And take Agent Daugherty too.”
“The more the merrier,” Bill said.
“First thing in the morning,” Mayson said.
**** **** ****
By contrast, things in Hazzard were quiet. Enos and MaryAnne each managed to make it through their patrols without incident, but any search for the white Suburban came up empty handed. Hazzard County covered a good amount of territory and there were a lot of remote places that would make good hideouts. After all, Hazzard was old moonshiner territory. It wasn’t supposed to be easy for the law to find somebody.
As such, that meant Hugh, Nicky and Moose could plot and plan in total seclusion. Nicky decided to let the two deputies sweat it for the day while he figured a new strategy. No matter how he decided to make an attempt again, one thing was clear. The Suburban would have to be replaced. Too many people had seen it now and any element of surprise was lost with the recognition of the vehicle. So Hugh was given the job of finding some new wheels.
As luck would have it, Hugh knew right where to go to get a new car. And he didn’t even have to steal it. Off the main highway when they had come into Hazzard, Hugh remembered seeing a small used car lot. Hugh had Moose drive him to the main highway in the Suburban and leave him off, and he walked the three miles to the used car lot while Moose went back to the cabin.
Hobie Harkin’s used car lot didn’t see a lot of business, but he didn’t care. He spent most of the day sitting in an old rocking chair on the porch of his establishment, nursing a jug of moonshine. Plastic colored flags fluttered in the breeze overhead, crisscrossing the small lot and Hobie could look out at his small herd of cars all day.
Hugh walked up the road and came into the lot. He glanced toward Hobie who looked half passed out on the front porch. If the man was at all excited about a potential customer, he didn’t show it. Hugh went ahead and wandered through the lot and found a car, a bronze colored ’70 GTO. The price written on the window was $800.
Hugh looked toward Hobie again. The drunk man was oblivious. Hugh then dug into his back pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. He erased the left side of both the top and bottom loop of the 8 on the price on the GTO’s window to make it read $300.
Satisfied, Hugh shoved the handkerchief back in his pocket and went to make a deal with Hobie. A few minutes later, Hugh drove the GTO off the lot and Hobie grinned at the $300 cash he now had in hand.
Meanwhile in town, MaryAnne was sitting at the booking room desk, looking at the information dossiers the FBI had sent the day before on the two men that had tried to kill her and Enos. Neither of them she recognized. Enos hadn’t either when he looked at them. Despite the two men being from California, neither were names he remembered from any of the cases he had worked when he was in LA. Despite having names and faces, they had no additional answers.
Rosco came out of his office and approached the booking desk. “Just had Commander Mayson on the phone,” he said. “He’s sendin’ some agents up this way tomorrow.”
“That’s good,” MaryAnne said. “We can sure use the help.”
“Yeah. Says he’s sendin’ three. Agent Kelley, we know. The other two I didn’t recognize the names.”
“Who are they?”
“Daugherty and Maxwell.”
“Maxwell?” MaryAnne was surprised to hear that name. “Rosco, you know who Maxwell is. That’s the Fed we got mixed up with in Chattanooga a few weeks ago.”
“Oh yeah,” Rosco said, not particular enthused. “Him.”
MaryAnne grinned. “Guess he didn’t make it back to LA.”
“Well, whatever. They’ll be here first thing in the morning.”
MaryAnne nodded. “Okay.” Her smile didn’t completely fade though. So Maxwell didn’t make it back to LA. That’s a shame…