Infiltrator Read online

  Monica proved unreachable. The special phone number went unanswered, and neither Jessie nor Mark felt it wise to risk a call on her old number. They decided they would try later, but both wondered if she had already met a fate similar to Pam's.

  Stephanie was on the move when they contacted her.

  "You heard about Pam, I assume," she said before Jessie could alert her to the situation. "I saw that the home of an aide to the Senator had blown up. I'm guessing Pam was in it when it happened?" she asked.

  "She's dead," Jessie confirmed. "Where are you?"

  "Going somewhere safe," Stephanie replied, without providing specifics. "Whoever is behind those meetings did this, didn't they? What did you and Mark learn at the building today?"

  Jessie quickly filled the woman in on the situation that they had discovered.

  "Weirder and weirder," Steph said. "So what do we do now?"

  "I think finding someplace secure for the next day or so is best," Jessie replied. "Mark and I were going to suggest another get together at the hotel, but given this new development, we probably should put that on hold. I have several contacts that I want to check with and see if Pam's murder provides any leads. We certainly didn't gain any from the building today."

  "Hmmmm," Stephanie said thinking. "Well, here's something more for you to contemplate. I got a preliminary report back from that friend on his look at my phone. You were right to be concerned about it. To begin with, the software has been altered."

  "Altered how?" Mark said, immediately interested. They were on speaker phone, although he'd simply listened until now.

  "He doesn't know, at least not yet. He was somehow able to do a compare between the version that the phone indicated was loaded, and the official version. Code in my phone was almost twenty percent longer. But it's all compiled stuff, and reverse engineering isn't that straightforward. He said he'd have a look, but gave me no promises."

  "Can you get a copy of that code?" Mark asked. He knew someone who would consider it a challenge and had just the right skill set to tackle such a job. Fred would be perfect for it.

  "I'll ask," Stephanie replied, "but not right away. I'm going to be unavailable for a bit. Might even pull the battery on this phone just in case."

  "We won't be able to contact you," Jessie warned.

  "I'll call you, from someplace other than where I'll be staying," Steph said. "But before we finish, there is more on the phone. My friend found a small spot of some clear substance that he initially thought was some kind of bonding material inside the phone. After finding nothing else, he returned and did more digging. Now he believes it is something else. The way it sits on the circuit board is suspicious. He checked three other identical phones he had access to, and none of them showed anything like that. There was no material like that in any of them."

  "But he doesn't know what it could be?" Mark asked.

  "Hasn't a clue," Steph admitted, "other than he's convinced it shouldn't be there."

  "Anything else?" Jessie asked.

  "Nope," Steph replied. "But I'd say we should stay well away from those phones until this is all over."

  "Okay, good work," Jessie said. "Stay safe, and check in if we can't get to you. At the moment we don't know what to do next. Too much unexpected has happened today."

  "Understand," Steph said. "I'll call you. You won't be able to get me for now."

  With that she broke the connection. Jessie looked at Mark.

  "Maybe a different hotel tonight," she suggested.

  Chapter 14

  "There she is," Special Agent Tom Burrows said, spotting the year old Volkswagen as it turned into the driveway of the house they had been watching for almost six hours.

  Duke Harmon cracked open one eye with some difficulty. The senior member of the two-man team, he'd been dozing for the past hour and a half, knowing his younger partner was more than capable of watching the house on his own and, as he just had, would alert him if anything needed his attention. He was a bit surprised that the woman had shown up this early, and had expected to be awake when she arrived, if she did.

  "That's the car," he agreed, noting the license plate number. "Can you tell if she's driving or if anyone is with her?" The senior agent was still shaking off the grogginess of his restless nap, and wasn't functioning fully just yet.

  Tom, a Special Agent of barely five years, had inherited his coloration and sharp mind from his Thai mother, and his powerful physique and dark tightly curled hair from his father. He had graduated second in his FBI Academy class and sometimes felt he was being held back from what he was capable of by his aging, and very opinionated partner. He had sat quietly alone for the empty hours as they waited for any sign of the woman they'd been assigned to find. In a normal team, both members would have been awake sharing the duty, helping one another stay sharp during the boredom of the stakeout, but he'd come to realize his partner, who was nearing retirement, often felt certain jobs were beneath him.

  Duke Harmon had had a colorful career, and was old school FBI. An aging Irishman, with strong opinions and a growing gut, with a fondness for whiskey, Harmon had spent time at more than a dozen offices around the country during his career, which had seen a number of ups and downs. In truth, he was a skilled investigator, when he was willing to put forth the effort, something that required him to become personally interested in a case. It was just such a case a few years ago in the Midwest that had brought him to the Director's attention, and as a result of his dogged efforts and careful investigation he'd been rewarded with this assignment in D.C. He'd been partnered with young Burrows when the other agent's partner had been physically retired after a shootout just over a year ago. Duke didn't feel that Burrows should be here in Washington, but putting in his time in one of the outlying offices as most newer FBI agents were required to do. He was of the opinion that Burrows's uncle, who had some political clout here in the nation's capital, had won a slot for the young agent in the city. This belief was wrong, Burrows had earned the position as the result of his class standing, along with some brilliant detective work on his first case after being assigned to a district office, but Duke's unsupported belief had colored the relationship between the two men for some time.

  "She's alone," Tom replied to his still sleepy partner's query. His eyes were on the car and the woman climbed out and headed toward the house. If they hurried, they could intercept her before she went inside.

  Apparently Harmon was of the same opinion, and was already pushing his stout form out of the passenger side door. Lithely, Burrows slid out of his own side, and was in the lead as they headed toward the woman.

  "Miss Parker," he said loud enough she would be able to hear. He saw her start and glance their way. "FBI," he added, holding out a badge. "We'd like to speak with you."

  As he approached he could see she was in no state to greet the world. She hadn't applied any makeup, and her hair was only marginally brushed. Her clothes had the look of garments that had been worn before, and he correctly guessed she'd spent the night with someone, a boyfriend perhaps, and was hurrying home to shower and change into what she'd wear today. He also noted that she looked nervous. Whether that was because she had something to hide, or simply because she was being called out by a pair of Federal Agents who had obviously been waiting at her home for her to return, remained to be determined.

  "FBI?" she asked, looking confused. "What do you want?"

  It was an obvious question, but Tom had detected the hint of a lie in her question. She looked nervous now in a way that suggested evasiveness. She wasn't completely surprised by their presence. He wondered what that meant. A glance from Duke said he had detected the same thing. By now they had caught up with her as she halted and waited for their approach, her nervous, uncertain eyes on them and the badges they held out.

  "Do you know Pam Chou?" Duke asked, any subtly missing from his approach. Burrows would have approached her differently.

  "She's dead," Monica said, eyes darting bac
k and forth between them. She had seen the news report the previous day, which had been one of the reasons she'd taken off, cutting all links to her, including those of the other six who had been at the meetings.

  Wanting to get matters back on more formal ground, Burrows carefully informed her of her rights, earning him a frown from Duke. He could see that the legal statement had shaken her.

  "Who told you?" Duke asked.

  "I saw it on the news," Monica replied uncertainly.

  "There were no names given in the reports," Duke replied.

  "There was enough information to know who they were talking about," she answered. Enough if you were already primed to expect trouble and had seen one of your group killed in the last couple of days, she thought but didn't say.

  "Hmmm," Burrows said. "And how well did you know Miss Chou?"

  "Not that well at all. Actually I only just met her the other day. We had dinner after a business meeting. Her and several others."

  "Yet you knew immediately the news was referring to her?" Harmon asked.

  "There aren't that many aides to top Senators," Monica replied. "What is this about? I had nothing to do with whatever happened to her?"

  Burrows sensed the truth in her statement.

  "We need to speak with you about your relationship with Miss Chou, and what happened at that dinner," Burrows said.

  From his wording, Monica realized he had already known about the dinner that night. Pam must have told them about it. Suddenly she was frightened.

  "You will have to come with us," Burrows informed her. "We will need a formal statement from you."

  "Can I go inside and freshen up first?" she asked.

  Duke Harmon shook his head.

  "I don't think so. We need to go now. This might not take long." In fact, he knew there was a very high probability she would be arrested, and there was little for her to gain from getting more nicely dressed since she'd soon be dressed in jail garb. He didn't say this of course. He wanted her pliable for now.

  "You can ride with us," Burrows offered, as if she had a choice. "Afterwards we'll see you home." He indicated their official vehicle waiting at the curb.

  Monica looked at the car, then back at the house, uncertain what to do.

  "I think I need a lawyer," she aid finally.

  "Do you think you need one?" Agent Harmon asked. "That's fine. You can call one from the station, and gave her a small nudge toward the car.

  Monica had never been in a situation like this one, and wasn't certain what to do. Finally she started walking toward the FBI vehicle. She realized she had no idea how to contact a lawyer. That's what everyone said in situations like this, but she had never dealt with a lawyer in her life. She had no idea who to call.

  Once settled in the car, the two agents sitting in front, they started off.

  "Why are you asking me about Pam's death?" she finally asked, wondering belatedly if she might learn how they had learned she even knew her. "I hardly knew the woman."

  Agent Burrows was driving, but the older one, Agent Harmon she recalled, turned and looked back at her.

  "Apparently she wanted to speak with her boss, the Senator about something that happened a few days ago. She and the Senator's secretary are pretty close and she mentioned that she, yourself, a Jerry Marshall, along with Mark and Jessie and a couple of others, witnessed a killing that some of you wanted to keep secret."

  "Mark Wilson and Jessie Carter," Monica said, and from the interested look in the agent's eyes she realized she had just given the man information he hadn't known. She needed to keep her mouth closed until her lawyer was present. She had just realized that the brother of the friend she'd spent the night with was a lawyer. She didn't know what kind, but she'd call Dave and hope he could get his brother to help.

  "That's them," Harmon said pretending he'd known the names. "Anyway, the secretary told us that Pam had disagreed and was going to report the incident, and now she is dead. I can think of reasons you might have wished something would happen to her. You or one of your friends who wanted this killing to remain secret."

  "Nobody was killed," she said, hoping what Jessie had told them on Sunday was the truth.

  "Well, we have people checking into that," Harmon said.

  Monica decided again that she'd best shut up for now.

  "Miss Chou told us you were all going to have dinner and wait for cabs during the storm when your group was confronted by three hoods," Agent Burrows explained. "In the ensuing confrontation, one of your group, Bud Johnson was shot and killed. None of you seemed inclined to inform the police about the matter."

  He glanced at the mirror where he could see her.

  "No one was killed," she repeated. "What was supposed to have happened to the body?"

  "That's a reasonable question, and a part of Miss Chou's story that is a bit odd," Harmon said. "She told the secretary it burst into flames and vanished. I never heard of that happening before. I'm wondering if something more might be going on here, and Miss Chou was covering up the actual events."

  Monica badly wanted to tell him what she had seen, but decided it was best to keep quiet about what she knew.

  "No one was killed," she said again. "Check with Johnson in New York. I bet you'll find him alive and well."

  "Yes, we are doing that," Agent Burrows replied.

  "At FBI Headquarters downtown, Monica was placed in a cell. Agent Burrows hesitated at the cell door momentarily.

  "You called your lawyer. Once he arrives, we will have a formal session where hopefully you can answer some questions. You might be interested in knowing, the agents in New York reported back that Johnson is indeed alive and well as you predicted. That does cast some doubts on what Miss Chou told her friend, but there is still the matter of her own death which is very real."

  "I know nothing about that," Monica said. She wondered how long it would take Dave to get in touch with his brother and whether he would actually show up to help someone he had never met.

  "Perhaps not," Burrows agreed. "That's what we need to find out. "But I also want to know just what was behind this story of Miss Chou's and what you know about that."

  "We went to dinner, and afterwards we all took cabs home," Monica insisted.

  "You know what is odd?" Burrows asked. "Miss Chou claimed that Mr. Johnson was killed that night, and that all of you conspired to cover up the fact, the rest of you pressuring her to do the same. Mr. Johnson, when our agents confronted him at his office in New York, claims to know nothing about this, and that he never made a trip to Washington that day. The area you and Miss Chou seem to agree on for the meeting is condemned and hasn't been used for many months. So where is the truth? Who was killed that night, Miss Parker? Why would Pam Chou lie about that, and is that the reason she was murdered? I think you should think carefully about just what you want to tell us when you are being questioned. Anything that doesn't make sense or which is clearly untruthful will result in your stay here being greatly extended."

  "No one was killed," Monica said, wondering about what she had just been told. It didn't agree with what Jessie had said she'd learned from her meeting with Bud Johnson.

  "Her lawyer still hasn't shown up?" Harmon asked a bit later when he checked with his partner.

  "Nothing yet," Tom replied. "He doesn't seem to be concerned his client is being held. Perhaps I should go and talk with her and make certain she has actually gotten agreement this guy is going to show up?"

  "Please," Harmon said. "I've got the names of the two she gave us in the car. Both work for the government which is interesting. I wonder if there is something here we don't understand?"

  "I'll go check," Tom said, knowing it was a task his elder partner felt was beneath him. He also knew that Duke felt this entire assignment was something they shouldn't be involved in. If anything, it should be a police matter, but because of the Senator's influence, they had been pulled into an otherwise normal homicide investigation.

  "She's lying
you know," Duke said as Tom prepared to leave.

  "About what? We haven't questioned her yet."

  "About the killing."

  "How can that be? Our people in New York have confirmed that Johnson is alive and well."

  "Yeah, well it was pretty obvious to me she was lying. Maybe it wasn't Johnson who got whacked. Maybe there is something else going on here that they are all covering up."

  Duke looked at his partner knowingly.

  The thing was, Tom agreed with him. His instincts and all his experience had screamed at him that the woman was covering something up. But how could that be? Pam Chou had told them a man had been killed who clearly hadn't been. Their prisoner had said that hadn't happened, which they had verified. So where was the lie? Yet he knew there was one.

  "Maybe we'll get some answers when we get a chance to question her," he said finally, and headed off down the hall.

  "What's up?' Tom asked the guard at the entry to the cell blocks. He could tell that something was wrong as he appproached.

  "The damn cameras just went out," the man replied "All of them."

  They had cameras that showed the passageway, and a camera in every cell to watch the prisoners. A quick glance showed Tom that the man was right. He saw nothing but white noise on every screen.

  "Let me in there, now!" Tom said, certain that this somehow had something to do with Monica Parker, although once again, he couldn't see how she could have any effect on their hardware. "Call for help."

  Hurrying into the cell block he made his way down the passageway toward the cell where Monica Parker was being held. He was halfway there when a bright flash of light spilled out of her cell, briefly illuminating the surrounding cells in a reddish-yellow light.

  "Damn!" he cursed, and hurried down the hall. He was surprised that the light wasn't accompanied by the blast of an explosion, which he initially assumed was the cause of the light. Now he didn't know what to think.