We just sat there, saying nothing, as they waited on their phone call.It wasn’t but a few minutes until Prissy came into the parlor carrying a telep...one. Plugging the cord into a jack beside the sofa, she asked, “Is there a Mr. Simmons here? There’s a phone call for him.”“This is Simmons,” Barty said confidently as he took the phone, then paused to listen.“Yes sir, Mr. Tolson!” he soon said.Of course, I knew that Clyde Tolson was the Associate Director of the FBI, primarily responsible for. Their papers were all in order, and the enclosed body of the truck was empty except for a few used, empty crates. NAFTA was a wonderful thing for JJ Reodondo's trucks, as all the border crossings were routine, now. Even the drug and explosives sniffing dogs were giving their approval to the trucks.Reodondo's drugs were taped to the inside of the diesel tanks, in vacuum sealed, triple wrapped plastic. No trace of scent escaped. And of course, there were no drugs in the tanks on the return. More

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