matter right now.”
“What’s the significance of this tape?” Calvin inquired.
“Do you see the man on the left of your client?” Hall asked. “That’s Luis Torres, captain of the
Emerald Green
, the cargo ship boarded by the Coast Guard. The man on Dr. O’Neal’s right is Arturo Lozano. INS tells me he heads an alien smuggling syndicate out of Mexico. But it gets better. Watch.”
The image played out on the screen. The unheard conversation at times seemed tense. Three minutes into the tape the David O’Neal on the video motioned to someone off screen. A second later a tall woman with flowing red hair entered the frame carrying a brown briefcase. She was supermodel beautiful and dressed in a clingy, shimmering blue evening gown. Setting the briefcase on the conference table she leaned over and gave David a long and passionate kiss. When she finally ended the embrace, she gently caressedDavid’s cheek and whispered something in his ear. On the screen, David laughed and said something. The other two men joined in the laughter. Even without sound it was easy to tell the bawdy nature of the comment.
David watched himself open the briefcase and turn it first toward the man on the right, then toward the man on the left. The briefcase was filled with money. David closed the case, secured its latches and pushed it over to the man Hall had identified as Arturo Lozano. Lozano quickly opened the case again, pulled out several bills, and handed them to the woman. She smiled graciously and seductively. The three men laughed again.
Abruptly the tape ended.
“Pretty convincing, don’t you think, Dr. O’Neal?” Hall asked.
David was devastated. His head reeled; he felt nauseous. “It’s not real,” he said weakly. “That’s not me. It didn’t happen. I’ve never met those people before. I’ve certainly never met that woman before.”
“Not real?” Hall snapped. “Is that not your face we see on the tape? Of course it’s real, and you know it.”
“No, I don’t!” he shouted and stood to his feet.
Calvin was on his feet too, his hand firmly placed on David’s shoulder. “Sit down, David. Sit down now.”
Reluctantly David complied.
“That’s not all,” Hall said. “I don’t want to give away all my secrets, but I can tell you that we have copies of bank statements from the Cayman bank. We have bank documents with your signature.”
“There can’t be bank documents,” David protested. “I’ve never been to Grand Cayman.”
“Is that a fact,” Hall said. “It so happens that I have photos of you entering and leaving the bank.”
“That’s impossible,” David shouted.
“Not only is it possible,” Hall shouted back, “but it’s a fact. The only thing that is impossible is you getting away with this.”
“I have done nothing wrong.”
“Do you expect us not to believe our own eyes?” Hall countered. “Come on, Dr. O’Neal. Let’s put this charade to rest and save the hardworking taxpayers some money on this investigation. Confess and we can all get on with our lives.”
“I have done nothing wrong,” David repeated.
“Enough,” Calvin interjected forcefully. “David, you will say nothing more. Nothing. And you, Agent Hall, will stop browbeating my client.”
“Don’t push your luck with me, Overstreet,” Hall said. “Your past will not help you in this case.”
“Either charge my client or I’m taking him home,” Calvin said.
“He’s going to be charged all right, and when this is all said and done, Dr. O’Neal will spend the next decade or two of his life behind bars. And not even you can stop that.”
“We’ll see about that,” Calvin said.
“You know what the saddest part of all this is?” Hall said, turning his attention back to David. “My wife and I have been regular contributors to Barringston Relief. We thought we were doing a good thing. Well, no longer, Dr. O’Neal, no longer. I’ve got a feeling that many of your other
“What’s the significance of this tape?” Calvin inquired.
“Do you see the man on the left of your client?” Hall asked. “That’s Luis Torres, captain of the
Emerald Green
, the cargo ship boarded by the Coast Guard. The man on Dr. O’Neal’s right is Arturo Lozano. INS tells me he heads an alien smuggling syndicate out of Mexico. But it gets better. Watch.”
The image played out on the screen. The unheard conversation at times seemed tense. Three minutes into the tape the David O’Neal on the video motioned to someone off screen. A second later a tall woman with flowing red hair entered the frame carrying a brown briefcase. She was supermodel beautiful and dressed in a clingy, shimmering blue evening gown. Setting the briefcase on the conference table she leaned over and gave David a long and passionate kiss. When she finally ended the embrace, she gently caressedDavid’s cheek and whispered something in his ear. On the screen, David laughed and said something. The other two men joined in the laughter. Even without sound it was easy to tell the bawdy nature of the comment.
David watched himself open the briefcase and turn it first toward the man on the right, then toward the man on the left. The briefcase was filled with money. David closed the case, secured its latches and pushed it over to the man Hall had identified as Arturo Lozano. Lozano quickly opened the case again, pulled out several bills, and handed them to the woman. She smiled graciously and seductively. The three men laughed again.
Abruptly the tape ended.
“Pretty convincing, don’t you think, Dr. O’Neal?” Hall asked.
David was devastated. His head reeled; he felt nauseous. “It’s not real,” he said weakly. “That’s not me. It didn’t happen. I’ve never met those people before. I’ve certainly never met that woman before.”
“Not real?” Hall snapped. “Is that not your face we see on the tape? Of course it’s real, and you know it.”
“No, I don’t!” he shouted and stood to his feet.
Calvin was on his feet too, his hand firmly placed on David’s shoulder. “Sit down, David. Sit down now.”
Reluctantly David complied.
“That’s not all,” Hall said. “I don’t want to give away all my secrets, but I can tell you that we have copies of bank statements from the Cayman bank. We have bank documents with your signature.”
“There can’t be bank documents,” David protested. “I’ve never been to Grand Cayman.”
“Is that a fact,” Hall said. “It so happens that I have photos of you entering and leaving the bank.”
“That’s impossible,” David shouted.
“Not only is it possible,” Hall shouted back, “but it’s a fact. The only thing that is impossible is you getting away with this.”
“I have done nothing wrong.”
“Do you expect us not to believe our own eyes?” Hall countered. “Come on, Dr. O’Neal. Let’s put this charade to rest and save the hardworking taxpayers some money on this investigation. Confess and we can all get on with our lives.”
“I have done nothing wrong,” David repeated.
“Enough,” Calvin interjected forcefully. “David, you will say nothing more. Nothing. And you, Agent Hall, will stop browbeating my client.”
“Don’t push your luck with me, Overstreet,” Hall said. “Your past will not help you in this case.”
“Either charge my client or I’m taking him home,” Calvin said.
“He’s going to be charged all right, and when this is all said and done, Dr. O’Neal will spend the next decade or two of his life behind bars. And not even you can stop that.”
“We’ll see about that,” Calvin said.
“You know what the saddest part of all this is?” Hall said, turning his attention back to David. “My wife and I have been regular contributors to Barringston Relief. We thought we were doing a good thing. Well, no longer, Dr. O’Neal, no longer. I’ve got a feeling that many of your other
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