He was referring to the unusual way the current round of arrests began. At three o’clock this morning, a boat was spotted by the Coast Guard, drifting in the bay off the shore of Alcatraz. It was a hundred-foot yacht with no lights or crew aboard. When the Coast Guard boarded the boat, they found a massive quantity of heroin, roughly estimated as at least fifty million dollars’ worth, packaged and ready for delivery into the harbor. However, there were no crew aboard the boat and no signs of foul play.
Police Chief Sanders would not verify it, but our sources inside the department state that there was also a typewritten letter aboard the ship, listing who had sold the massive shipment, who had bought it, and named every dealer that was waiting for delivery in order to sell the drugs on the street. “It was an entire map of the heroin business in the Bay area,” the source said, on condition of anonymity. “There were names, relationships of who works for who. Where shipments are stored before being distributed. Where and how the money is kept. Addresses, full names, everything. Basically, someone just handed us the entire industry and gave us the power to shut it down.”
It is not known who wrote the letter, or how it came to be aboard the ship. It also is not known how the ship came to be adrift in the harbor instead of docked for unloading by its intended recipients.
“It’s as if someone left it there for us,” our source told us. “Just adrift in the bay like that. Like a gift.”
Police have called up all available staff, as well as reinforcements, to handle the resulting warrants and arrests. Police Chef Sanders stated today that nearly thirty-five arrests have been executed, as well as over a hundred suspects brought in for questioning. Some of those questioned and arrested were already known to the police, but some were not.
The primary arrest, according to police, is Craig Bastien, a local drug dealer who apparently arranged the shipment. “This man was the instigator of the entire operation,” Chief Sanders said. “It was due to him that this level of heroin was about to hit our streets. He stood to make millions in profit if this ship had docked—millions off of the misery of drug dealing and drug addiction in this city. We have a very strong case to put him away.”
Bastien has been placed in protective custody, he said, due to the high level of risk that another in the prison population could harm or kill him. “He is not popular with the local drug dealers right now,” Chief Sanders said. “Since it was his deal that went sour and caused so many to be arrested, he’s already received threats. These are very bad enemies to have. But we are committed to making sure he stays alive long enough to stand trial.”
Asked how he thought the ship ended up in the harbor, Chief Sanders said, “I have no idea. It almost looks like someone, somewhere, had a conscience.”
Two Days Later, from the San Francisco News:
Local Billionaire Makes Two Large Local Donations
Devon Wilder, the San Francisco man who inherited an estate worth a billion dollars after serving a two-year stretch in prison for robbery, has made two donations that will make a difference to the local city scene.
A San Francisco network of women’s shelters, called Sheltered Hearts, received a donation of $3 million yesterday from Wilder. “We are overwhelmed,” said Patricia Greene, the president of Sheltered Hearts, a non-profit that receives no government funding. “With this kind of money, we can make real improvements to our shelters and our system, which in turn will make a real improvement to many women’s and children’s lives.”
It was revealed in a news item three days ago that Wilder, who was born in LA, is the son of Gina Wilder, who was murdered ten years ago at the age of thirty-nine. Her boyfriend at the time, who was convicted of the murder, is currently on Death Row for the crime.
When asked about the donation, Mr. Wilder made a brief statement. “Ten years ago, when my mother was killed, I wasn’t in a position to help her,” he said. “Today I’m in a different position. It only makes sense to me to pay it forward and maybe help another woman and her kids. I just wish someone had been able to help my mother before it was too late.”
In a second development, the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art—which is also a non-profit—revealed yesterday that Mr. Wilder had given them $3 million as well as the beginning of an ongoing funding commitment. “We are very grateful,” Paul McGhee, the president of SFMOMA, said in a statement. “This kind of commitment to the arts means that we can continue to bring the best works in the world to San Francisco.”
When asked about the second donation, Mr. Wilder’s statement was even more brief. “I have a friend who likes to go there,” he said about the gallery. “That’s all I have to say.”
Chapter 28
Olivia
I phoned him. Of course I phoned him.
He picked up right away.
“Devon,” I said. “What the hell did you do?”
“What?” he said, innocent.
“I’m reading the news,” I said. I was sitting in my mother’s kitchen in her LA house, her laptop in front of me on the counter as I made a cup of tea. “You did this, didn’t you? The boat in the harbor.”
He was quiet for a second. “I told you I wouldn’t hurt anyone,” he said.
“I know,” I said, the words coming hard through my choked-up throat. “I should have believed you.”
“You had no reason,” he said. “I knew that.”
“I had every reason. And I did trust you.” I took a breath. “I do. I just let my panic get the best of me.”
He was quiet for another moment. “It’s done,” he said. “Where are you?”
“At my mother’s. In LA.”
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. My wrist is healing. So are the bruises.” I dunked my tea bag in my cup. “My mother is happy to see me. It turns out she worries about the fact that I have no love life.”
“Hmm,” he said, a low sound I felt vibrate straight through my belly, and lower. “You gonna enlighten her?”
I dropped the tea bag, distracted. “I told her about you,” I said. I had, while Mom and I had eaten takeout Chinese in our pj’s, like we were two teenagers. I hadn’t told her any of the dirty stuff, of course. But I had the impression that Mom had filled in some of the blanks. “She, um, she knows.”
“And what does she say?”
I remembered exactly what Mom had said when I’d finished talking. She’d sipped her wine and looked at me from under her lashes. Even at age fifty, with no makeup on and her hair going naturally gray—she’d stopped dyeing it—my mother was really beautiful. She was just genetically blessed, in a way Gwen and I should probably thank her for. A man like that isn’t easy, honey, she’d said, but he’s worth a million of any other kind.
I wasn’t about to repeat that to Devon Wilder. “I think she’d like you,” I said instead. “She already likes your picture.”
“Oh, fuck,” Devon said. “My mug shot?” That particular shot had run in the original story about Devon inheriting his grandfather’s money.