Infiltrator Page 20

  Chapter 24

  Burrows spooned another mouthful of the highly spiced dish into his mouth. He could have eaten at FBI headquarters, which was where he usually took his lunch, but he needed time away from the constant reminders of Duke's death by well meaning fellow agents and coworkers. Also, he needed time to think. This place was a couple of blocks away, and not a frequent destination of many from his office. He grinned as he took a cautious bite of one of the cabe rawit peppers that came with the spicy dish. The food was authentic Indonesian fare, not something modified for American tastes, and the proprietor was from a region in the country that was known for its spicy food. The little green peppers might not be the hottest known, but they were more than hot enough for him. He was sweating slightly as he plowed through his meal, but the spicy food also cleared his senses and helped him think. He had a lot on his mind, and hadn't decided what he should reveal when he met with his boss in just over an hour.

  Once again he stared at the handwritten list spread out on the table in front of him. A paper list was somewhat of an anomaly for him, as he'd always been able to focus better on what he was doing when he worked on the computer, but for the moment he was uncomfortable recording his thoughts and plans on something that he felt might be accessible to other eyes. What a joke! To be concerned about who might be seeing what he was doing on a computer within the FBI facility! Yet, there it was. He couldn't escape the thought.

  He wondered what had come over him the past couple of days to violate Bureau policies so blatantly. Never before had he even contemplated taking such an outlandish action. He'd had the four widely sought suspects in hand, and they would have come willingly with him and turned themselves in, but he'd released them and warned them to find someplace safe. Was there even such a place? But it had felt like the right thing to do. Even given Duke's death, and his fears that something was amiss, policy dictated he bring the wanted fugitives in where they could be questioned and held. No one in the Bureau would have considered his fear they wouldn't be safe in any way valid. Not within the headquarters of the most powerful law enforcement agency in the United States. Yet, he couldn't help remembering Monica Parker, who shortly after being locked up, had mysteriously vanished, only to reappear under very odd conditions, and subsequently shot. He also wondered if he was being fair to the four fugitives that had captured him, and then turned him loose. They would have been safe from pursuit had they come in, and his actions placed them at risk from all law enforcement in the country. He also wondered what other group might be seeking them, for clearly there seemed to be someone who wished them eliminated. Pam Chou had been murdered, and he was certain it wasn't this group, and others were suddenly missing. Dead also? And then there was Duke. Who would risk murdering an FBI agent?

  He'd underlined the names of Bud Johnson and Jerry Marshal. If what he'd been told was true, there was an explanation for the disappearance of Marshal, but what had suddenly happened to Johnson. He'd talked with the man only the other day, and he'd been clear that he had nothing to do with any events in Washington, D.C. Yet, now he was missing. Coincidence, or something more ominous? Tom wasn't certain it would be wise to raise the question. Even though he was tasked at completing the investigation, he couldn't think of a reason for a continued interest in Johnson. Then again, he might already be a target.

  Duke's murder was listed, of course, but he wouldn't be the one looking into that. That would be Sully's task, although they would probably interact often. But attempting to probe the death for a connection to what he was doing might prove difficult.

  Then there was the strange situation of the autopsies. That subject was something he couldn't get his mind around. That one individual might have something unusual on their brain wasn't so impossible, but for two people, both intimately linked to the ongoing case to have the identical abnormality was too much of a coincidence. What if the others, including the four fugitives he'd released, had the same strange nodes? What did that say? Clearly, they were different than others, in more ways than just their recent mysterious past. It worried him. Another reason they probably shouldn't be running around loose. Somehow he was going to have to speak with at least one of the Medical Examiners as to what the nodes might represent, but do it covertly somehow.

  As odd as the nodes sounded, his next item bothered him every bit as much. Someone had changed the reports in the official online filing. And they had done so without leaving any sign that the files had been altered. That was supposed to be impossible, part of the preservation of evidence trail the Bureau followed. But it had happened. Who could possibly have done so? Someone with both authority, access, and skills. This was the only solid piece of evidence that existed that something very unusual was in play here, and now, officially at least, that evidence was gone. He still had the hard copy that Duke had printed, but hopefully no one knew that and it wasn't the time to bring it out and start asking questions. He needed to understand the playing field better first.

  Also on the list, but soon to be answered, was whether he would still be working the case. With Duke gone, would his boss assign a new team? He and Duke hadn't made any noticeable progress, and with Duke murdered, the Bureau management might wish to start fresh. How would he proceed if he were removed? Was there a way he could pursue his questions, and what did he do about and for the fugitives. He had an obligation there, both to the Bureau and the four individuals. He couldn't leave them abandoned.

  Too many oddities, Tom thought as he pushed back his plate, the spicy food having failed to trigger any brilliant insights. He threw a twenty on the table and picked up his list. It was time to get back. After the meeting, maybe he'd have a better idea how to proceed. Some decisions might be made for him, but if he was removed, he almost certainly had to tell the four fugitives to come in. Whether they still would or not, remained to be seen.

  "Max will be your new partner until this case is solved," Tom's boss said to kick off the meeting. Tom had been certain that would be the case when he'd been escorted into the office for the scheduled meeting to find Max and the Director for Criminal Investigations already together in the room. He couldn't say he was happy about the choice.

  "You know Max, I assume?"

  "Not well," Tom explained. "We met briefly, once before."

  Max Geller. Fifty-four years old and a decorated veteran of the Bureau. He was known by every agent in the FBI, and if what Tom had heard was true, he'd gone through the Academy with the Director, and was a frequent hunting buddy of Tom's boss. He was also a bit of a wild card, shunning the usual protocols of the Bureau with even more frequency than Duke had been. It was surprising that Duke had harbored an intense dislike of the man.

  Tom examined the man. Light blond hair that showed serious thinning, and a bit of a paunch these days. Well, his reputation was that of an agent that used his wits and insight, along with a surprisingly reliable instinct to catch those he sought, rather than running them down as they fled. He wore thick lensed glasses housed in aviator gold frames. Tom could see the man's intense gray eyes examining him at the same time he was taking his own inventory, and sensed he was being categorized by the elder agent. Given their relative ages and the seniority of the other, Tom would be reporting to him, despite the fact he would be new on the case. That meant they would be doing things Max's way. At least Tom was still on the case.

  Tom had been on the verge of coming clean with all that had happened with the fugitives when he stepped into the room, but something about the selection of Agent Geller changed his mind. He'd wait and see how this played out. He was taking a big risk with the secrecy game he was playing, but too many things didn't seem right.

  "Max will be assuming leadership on this case," Tom was told. "You'll need to bring him up to speed quickly with everything you and Duke have done to date."

  Tom could see a folder that was marked with the case number. Geller had already been reviewing the background information.

  "We'll get these guys," Geller sa
id in a smoke roughened voice. "They are almost certainly behind Duke's killing, although just what they hoped to gain is a mystery to me at this point. You may not be able to chase your partner's killer directly, but by running these folks down you'll accomplish the same thing, I'm certain."

  Tom stifled a desire to protest that those he was tasked with investigating and bringing in were not responsible, but said nothing.

  "I think this Bud Johnson and at least one other in the group are behind all this. The others were simply participants, and when whatever they were planning fell apart, the group turned on one another. We should bring him in for formal questioning," Geller added.

  Apparently the man didn't know that Johnson was currently missing. Tom couldn't support any claim he didn't believe Johnson had any part in Duke's killing. It was possible, and the four fugitives he knew were uncertain about Johnson as well.

  Tom's boss said, "The Director wishes to be kept closely informed on the progress of this case. The death of an agent, especially one of Duke's status and seniority, can't be allowed to go unresolved. We need some quick action here. Assistant Director Richard Baker has been tasked by the Director to get regular status on your progress, so you can expect him, or me acting for him, to contact you in that regard."

  Wonderful, Tom thought. The first time in his career he'd done anything in any way unprofessional, and it's a situation where the top people in the FBI would be paying close attention.

  "Yes sir," he replied dutifully, unable to think of anything else at the moment.

  "Good! Now the two of you should exchange information, and get moving on this. I'd like to have those people in here within a day or so."

  "What makes you suspect our suspects are responsible for Duke's killing? Sully seems to be thinking differently. He even had me bring in my target gun in case I'd done Duke." Tom said when he and Geller settled into his office. They had agreed on Tom's office because that's where all the case background would be readily at hand. Geller settled into the wooden chair across from Tom's desk, and fingered a cigarette, one of many the man would consume in a day.

  "Sully's an ass," Max replied. "I heard about that bit of nonsense. He doesn't like you, and did that just because everyone knows you have that classic Colt and wanted to use the situation to annoy you. Murders don't just happen, and from what I've been told, this is the only case you and Duke are working at the moment, so the odds favor something in the case caused one of the group to try to take you out. You know that you were a target as well?"

  "What?"

  "A witness on your block noted a dark van parked across from your place half the night last night. Left only early morning. I suspect that someone had targeted you, but you were off chasing leads."

  Tom wondered where Max got his information, but if this was true, it supported what he'd been thinking.

  "Shit," he mumbled.

  "What did you two find that could've triggered this?" Geller asked.

  Tom spent just over an hour going through everything he and Duke had discovered about the small band. He told him everything, but for the moment studiously avoided everything he'd learned the night before directed from Jessie and her friends. He wanted to see what conclusions Max might come to from the information he and Duke had been working with, and he wasn't certain just what his position was going to be going forward.

  "So you don't know just what this group is up to," Max said when he finished. "A strange band to have joined together."

  Max paused for a moment.

  "It's got to be something involving national security," he said. "And I don't believe Pam Chou was as innocent as she tried to make out before they killed her. The fact she worked for Senator Conroy, who is a big figure in the Intelligence world is key. Look what we have here. Two figures from different branches of the Intelligence Community. Two figures from the military. Jerry Marshal from the Joint Chiefs and this Glen Taylor from the Air Force. Monica Parker was from the Aerospace community, and I know the Air Force has a couple of secret space programs under consideration right now. That leaves Miss Brewer from ATT and Bud Johnson from Wall Street. He's almost certainly Mr. Money, and I suspect from what you said the leader behind all this."

  "What role would Stephanie Brewer have?"

  "I don't see that just yet, but I'll bet it will make sense once we figure it out," Max said confidently. "It looks to me like they had some kind of falling out, and Johnson, along with this Mark Wilson, set up a double cross to eliminate the weak sisters. I don't know how they pulled off some of the stunts you described, but that's got to be it. That drove the frightened ones like Chou to talk to the Senator, but they nailed her before she could spill all she knew. Our first task will be to bring in this Johnson guy. I know you talked with him, but I want a formal statement from him. A little sweating in a cell and we'll have more of the story."

  Tom was stunned by the jumps Max had made, and how wrong his assumptions appeared to be in light of other knowledge he hadn't given the man.

  "Johnson's missing," Tom told him. "I learned this morning he's been missing for two days."

  "Damn it!" Geller cursed. "Well, what more proof do you need. Your checking on him made him realize we were getting close and he's gone to ground. Well, we'll add him to the list now that he's shown his true colors."

  "List?" Tom asked.

  "The other five, including this Jerry Marshall who is supposedly dead, were put on the ten most wanted list this morning. Fitting for those who killed an FBI agent. The Assistant Director authorized it. When we are done here, we'll go see him and ask to add Johnson. With that many looking for them, it won't be long before we get some leads."

  Tom was shell-shocked. Max was moving far too fast, and his preliminary conclusions were badly flawed, at least in Tom's opinion. Unfortunately, he could sense there would be no diverting the man's initial thrust, and as the new lead on the hunt, he called the shots. Already Tom was badly missing Duke.

  "I guess so," was all he could say, trying to think of what he could do to alert the four individuals he'd turned loose, and where his true responsibilities lie.

  Chapter 25

  Night was settling in as Mark fed the huge fireplace from the large supply of wood that someone had left stacked off to one side in the expansive gathering hall of the summer camp. They had quickly found the generators and a large supply of fuel, and had the power working as well, although there were no electric heaters to be found in the camp. It was intended for use during the summer months, and heating wasn't needed during that part of the year. For now, the fireplace would have to do. Food wasn't going to be a problem either. While the oversized freezers were standing open, their contents taken away when the power was shut down at the end of the summer session, the supply room was filled with enough nonperishable items to keep them going for months.

  It had been a long day for them after being set off on their own by the FBI agent with whom they had intended to return to Washington. The group had headed southwest, away from the capitol. They had driven carefully, considering their options as they traveled. The cabin had worked well enough for a short time, but they needed someplace away from people that was easily supplied. When they had spotted the sign pointing to the summer camp, Steph had suggested they check it out. Now they were settled in just outside Hendersonville, North Carolina, adjacent to the Nantahala National Forest. It was roughly five hundred miles from D.C., far enough they wouldn't be expected in the area, yet close enough they could get back in a day's drive. There was no snow in this area, just a continual drizzle the past couple of hours. But it was still cold. The road into the camp was mostly gravel and left no marks of their passage. With the Jeep safely hidden away in one of the many garages, they were all but invisible here so long as there was no caretaker checking on the place. Windows in the building they were using had been covered with blankets taken from stores.

  In addition to the supplies they had found here, the Jeep was now crammed with additional items. It he
ld four five-gallon cans of gas, drinks and other necessities that Mark and Glen had purchased at a Walmart a hundred miles away before they knew about this camp. Jessie and Stephanie had shopped for clothes, while the men purchased necessities and ammunition.

  They still had their phones, although all were currently disabled, as there was no one they needed to call. There were computers here in the camp they could use, and Steph had already verified they had fully functional Internet. The television in the common room was on, one of the first things they'd done upon arriving. They'd watched the national coverage, which by now was a repeat of what they'd seen earlier, but they left it on in case of new developments.

  "Looks like our FBI friend has turned on us," Glen said, handing Mark a plate of steaming chili.

  "That sure smells good," Mark said, accepting the offering. "How'd you manage it so fast?"

  "They had huge cans of the stuff back there, as well as canned beef. Good stuff, not the usual canned meat I've seen. Mixed those together, along with a couple of cans of corn and such. Kind of a bastard version of chile, but should be filling, and we have enough for ten of us."

  "Tastes even better than it smells," Mark replied, his mouth filled with the warm food.

  Glen set a couple of cans of cold beer on the table next to Mark. "The refrigerators aren't up to cooling anything yet, but I dumped a couple of six-packs in the stream out back. It's damn cold, and it cooled this stuff down really fast."

  "We made the big time," Steph said sarcastically, coming up behind them with her own plate in hand. "Ten most wanted. Wow! Mom will be proud."