Trojan

by Brandon Clark

  “That’s Miguel,” he said. “I didn’t know he was coming today.”

  “News to me,” Haley said.

  “He’ll be here in about ten minutes,” Josef said. “Quick, hide all the illegal stuff.”

  Haley rolled her eyes.

  “Finish up here,” she said. “Don’t get distracted.”

  Josef, still grinning at his joke, returned his focus to the keyboard.

  The rumble of Miguel’s souped up engine started rattling Haley’s teeth a few minutes later, and Miguel strode through the barn doors shortly after.

  He hugged Josef and spoke in Spanish for a moment before greeting Haley with little more than a cool gaze and a handshake.

  “What brings you out here?” she asked.

  “Just checking up on things,” he said. “A word?”

  He spun on his heel and headed toward the side of the barn without waiting for her to acknowledge.

  Haley’s eyebrows rose, but she nodded and followed him.

  “How’s Josef doing?” Miguel asked when she’d joined him in one of the old horse stalls.

  Haley looked over at the teen perched on his chair at the bench. His eyes darted around the dual screens, and his fingers flew across the keyboard.

  “I think he’s starting to enjoy it,” she said. “He even chose to keep going last night instead of playing video games.”

  Miguel nodded and stroked his chin.

  “Think he’ll be ready?”

  “If he isn’t, it’s not for lack of trying.”

  “Hard work doesn’t mean crap if you get caught.”

  Haley crossed her arms and cocked her head.

  “I know,” she said. “Believe me, I don’t want to throw him into the deep end. But we’re running out of time if we’re going to make this work.”

  “He still isn’t the only thing we need to worry about if we’re going to succeed,” Miguel said. “I got a very interesting phone call yesterday.”

  “I was wondering what made you make such a sudden field trip.”

  Miguel looked at her for several heartbeats.

  “Josef,” he barked. “Come on.”

  Josef’s head whipped up from the screen and gave his uncle a quizzical look.

  “I’m in the middle—”

  “Now,” Miguel said.

  Josef frowned but locked his computer and grabbed the Glock sitting on the table. Tucking it into his waistband, he followed Miguel and Haley out the door.

  The air was cold enough that she would have gotten goosebumps, even in the bright sunlight, if not for the thick sweater she’d borrowed from Francesca.

  Miguel said nothing as he led them around the back of the shed. He walked quickly, not bothering to see if they were following.

  Haley followed, a sense of dread growing in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t bother asking any more questions, but she was all too aware of the pistol tucked into the small of Miguel’s back.

  He pushed a few bushes aside and started down a deer trail into the woods. Josef followed close on his heels, leaving Haley to bring up the rear.

  Haley guessed they had walked nearly a quarter of a mile when they came to a small clearing next to a stream. The water gurgled peacefully as it ran over the stones and pooled in eddies behind large rocks.

  Miguel stopped by the creek and bent down, dipping his hands in the water.

  “Amazing what a little cold water can do,” he said without looking back. “Wakes you up. Shocks your system. To a man in the desert, even a few swallows can save your life, and clear your mind.”

  Haley didn’t reply. Behind her, Josef shifted awkwardly in the grass.

  “Why did you come to us?” Miguel asked.

  “Because I needed your help.”

  “With what?”

  “The Volkags.”

  Miguel fell quiet as he washed his hands.

  “And you didn’t feel like you could trust your friend?”

  “I do trust my friends,” Haley said slowly.

  “Detective Bradley Pitt isn’t one of your friends?”

  He twisted to look over his shoulder. His face was neutral, but there was a dangerous glint in his eye that made Haley nervous. Josef’s mouth was agape, and his eyes were wide.

  “I haven’t spoken with Bradley in forever.”

  “Of course, you haven’t,” Miguel said. He wiped his hands on his jeans and stood to face her. “But he is your friend?”

  “I guess so,” Haley said.

  Miguel took a step toward her.

  “Not knowing who your allies are can get you killed,” he hissed. “So I’ll ask you again, is he your friend or not?”

  Haley was afraid to meet his eyes, but she forced herself to anyway.

  “He was one of the cops that helped save Jacob,” she said. “I owe him my son’s life, so yes, I’d call him a friend.”

  “You’re a snitch?” Josef asked.

  Miguel reached behind his back and pulled out the gun, his eyes never leaving Haley. He pushed the barrel into Haley’s forehead hard enough to make her take a step backward.

  “Did you tell your friend about our arrangement?”

  “No.”

  She wanted to piss her pants but forced herself to breathe.

  “What about our safehouses? My boys in the city?”

  “Why would I do that?” Haley whispered. “I’m trying to save my son from a life of having to look over his shoulder, wondering if some Russian mobster is about to kill him. The cops couldn’t even keep them in prison.”

  Miguel’s eyes narrowed.

  “Do you believe her?”

  Josef’s fidgeting had stopped. “I don’t know.”

  Miguel’s eyes slid off Haley.

  “You want to be a leader?” he said. “Leaders make decisions. Do you believe her?”

  Josef hesitated. “Yes,” he finally said.

  Haley let out half a breath.

  “I don’t,” Miguel said.

  “Then why haven’t you pulled the trigger?” Josef said.

  His eyes relaxed a bit, and Haley felt a tenuous lifeline slide into her palm.

  “Because some things you can’t take back,” he said quietly. “It pays to be sure.”

  He pressed the gun into Haley’s forehead again.

  “You have thirty seconds to change my mind.”

  “Am I trying to use you?” Haley asked. “Yes. But I’m also trying to help you.”

  “Or you’re setting us up,” Miguel growled.

  Haley snorted. “I don’t care what Josef thinks,” Haley said. “You can’t explain all those guns away with ‘I believe in the Second Amendment.’ If I’d wanted to set you up, I have plenty of evidence. I know where you are. I wouldn’t need to wait and keep putting my baby’s life in danger by being around you.”

  Miguel digested the information but did not lower the weapon.

  Haley felt sweat trickling down her forehead, and one drop slipped into her eye. It stung, and she tried to blink to clear it but didn’t dare raise a hand toward the weapon.

  “I received a call from someone named Lucy,” he finally said. “According to her, you were an undercover for DC Metro in their effort to take down the Volkags.”

  He left the rest of the thought unsaid.

  “Vlad made me go to the cops,” Haley said. “He wanted a worm in their systems so that he could destroy evidence and get off on the charges.”

  “Yet he still ended up behind bars.”

  “I’m better than him.”

  “But you want me to think you’re not a CI?”

  “They had my son,” Haley spat. “I’ll show you the proof of life video for god’s sake.”

  “Or were they just keeping him safe, like we are?”

  “Why don’t you see the video for yourself and tell me?”

  She couldn’t read the expression in Miguel’s eyes. But his brow was furrowed, and his lips were thin.

  Then he nodded to himself and pulled t
he gun off her head. He motioned back toward the barn with the barrel.

  “Show me,” he said. “But if I don’t believe you, Josef will be digging a shallow grave for you out here.”

  They stood around the monitor at Haley’s barn workstation, the silent footage of Jacob huddled in a corner with only his bear and a pair of torn and dirty pajamas. Haley had to step away to keep herself from crying again.

  “It looks like they’re taking care of him,” Miguel said quietly. “New mattress, a shower . . .”

  “Because I did what they asked,” Haley snapped. “Would you keep a kid in a cargo container if you were trying to protect him? Would you film it?”

  Miguel held up a hand, forestalling further protests.

  “I’m still not sure if I completely trust you,” he said. “But no, I wouldn’t treat a kid like that. How did this Lucy person even know that you were involved with the cops?”

  “Maybe she’s working for the Volkags,” Haley said, starting to pace. “I’ve never heard of her before.”

  “She clearly knows more about you do about her,” Josef said. “Maybe we’re working with the wrong hacker.”

  “She said as much,” Miguel said. He looked over at Haley. “Is she a threat to the op?”

  “I’ll need to do some digging to find out,” Haley replied. “I don’t know how she could know as much as she does without being a cop.”

  “Then find a way to neutralize her,” Miguel said. “I’m not committing any of my men until I know that we don’t have some crazy hacker providing overwatch for the Volkags.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Haley said. “What else did she say?”

  “Just that she knew you were working with the cops,” Miguel said. “She did say you were sloppy. That you left a glowing trail that even a blind man could follow.”

  “She’s lying.”

  Miguel shrugged.

  “That’s what she said. May have been part of her sales pitch.”

  His eyes held hers, a note of challenge gleaming in them.

  “Or maybe you aren’t as good as you think you are.”

  “If that were true, I’d be dead.”

  She glared back at him, unwilling to back down. Then he shrugged again.

  “Either way,” he said. “Do what you have to. Just make sure we don’t get caught up in your little catfight.”

  He stalked past her, bumping her shoulder as he did.

  As he came to Josef, he pressed the gun sideways into the boy’s chest.

  “If she doesn’t deliver,” Miguel said. “You take care of it.”

  He shot another cold look at Haley, then turned back for the barn.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Bradley double-checked the address and knocked on the door. There was a shuffling and grunting from inside the brownstone, and Bradley stepped back, so he was standing on the top step.

  It sounded like about six locks were undone before the door finally opened, and an old man with a yellow cardigan peered out of the dark interior.

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you the Tailor?” Bradley asked.

  “I was a tailor, but I retired,” the man started to close the door.

  “I’m looking for someone who can fix my Pillar for Autumn.”

  The door stopped, then slowly reversed course.

  “What’d you say?”

  “I’m looking for someone who can fix my Pillar for Autumn.”

  The man rolled his eyes but pushed the door all the way open.

  “Christ, stupid code words and spy shit.”

  He led Bradley down the hallway, their footsteps echoing down the hardwood tunnel. When they reached the kitchen, the old man waved at a chair at the kitchen table.

  “Boy genius will get you,” he said. “Glasses are there if you want water.”

  Bradley nodded. The old man grunted, then turned and waddled back to the living room where a high pitched voice asked to buy a vowel.

  Bradley got up and grabbed a glass from the cabinet. He made a lazy circuit of the kitchen, ducking his head into the adjoining rooms. The room with the TV only had a La-Z-Boy, which the old man was currently occupying, and a couch. The other room was a formal dining room, that would have been at home in the seventies, complete with a display case full of commemorative plates.

  He moved back to stand by the table when he heard footsteps on a staircase. A door he’d assumed was a walk-in pantry opened and a young man with disheveled hair and a black eye that had now faded to a yellowish-green emerged.

  “You’re Allen?”

  Bradley held out a hand. “Tailor?”

  The man nodded but didn’t take his hand. He waved and headed back down the stairs.

  The basement looked like a movie set or at least some kind of fashion photography studio. A green screen, racks of clothes, and even a dressing area toward the back covered by a thick black curtain. There was a workbench with different kinds of cameras, ranging from the industrial type used at the DMV to high-end DSLRs. At the end of the table, Bradley also noticed a Glock resting on its side.

  “Quite the setup,” Bradley said.

  The Tailor grunted, then motioned for him to stand in front of the camera.

  Bradley obeyed, and for the next hour the Tailor snapped different pictures of him wearing a variety of items.

  “That’s enough,” the Tailor finally said. “You’ll get everything in a week. I’ll send you instructions on where to leave the money.”

  “A week? I don’t have a week.”

  The man shrugged.

  “Should have called sooner.

  “Can you give me anything today?” Bradley asked.

  “No.”

  “Come on,” he said. “Even just a driver’s license.”

  He pulled out his wallet and produced three hundred dollar bills.

  “Think of it as an express service,” Bradley said, handing the money out.

  The man eyed the money. Bradley could see the temptation on his face.

  Then he shook his head.

  “No direct contact,” he said. “You’ll get it next week.”

  Bradley sighed and pulled out two more bills.

  “If I get pulled over, I’m going away for a long time. I don’t need the passport now, but I can’t be cooped up in the house all week while I’m waiting for the jet to Bermuda.”

  The extra cash was too much to ignore. The young man grabbed it and tucked it in the back pocket of his jeans.

  “I’ll be back in a minute,” he said.

  He walked to the back of the basement, the area that Bradley had assumed was a changing area and pushed the curtain aside. Bradley caught a glimpse of a computer screen as it parted and the Tailor ducked inside.

  Bradley didn’t have much else to do, so he stood and waited next to the rack of clothes. He could hear the clack of a keyboard, and then the whirring of a printer.

  About fifteen minutes later, the Tailor came back out waving an ID card as if to dry it. He held it up to the light one last time, then handed it over to Bradley.

  Bradley examined it, noting that his name was now Nigel Farnsworth.

  “You’ll get everything else next week,” the Tailor said. “You can go now.”

  Bradley grabbed his wallet, carefully tucking the ID into one of the slots. Then he flipped it open on the other side to reveal his badge.

  The Tailor’s confident facade cracked, and his eyes flicked to the gun on the workbench.

  “Before you do anything stupid,” Bradley said. “You may be interested to know I was a Marine in a previous life. And some reflexes die hard. But I can play this however you want.”

  The Tailor’s lips thinned into a hard line, but then his shoulders sagged, and he sighed. He held his wrists out, and Bradley snapped one cuff around his wrist, before pulling it behind his back and grabbing the other.

  He frog marched the younger man up the stairs and back to the kitchen. The old man didn’t turn from his show.

/>   “Carl, call my lawyer.”

  The man turned at the Tailor’s voice, and when he saw the young man in cuffs, Bradley holding one arm, his jaw dropped.

  “Carl,” the Tailor snapped. “Lawyer. Now.”

  The man nodded vigorously and tried to get out of his La-Z-Boy, only to fall backward. It took him two more tries to rock back and forth with enough momentum to get up. Then he disappeared through another doorway and came back with an old cordless phone and an address book. The Tailor rolled his eyes, but let Bradley drag him along.

  As they started through the foyer, Bradley’s phone rang.

  “Don’t move,” he said.

  The Tailor sighed. Bradley wrestled with his jacket to get the phone out and didn’t have time to recognize the number before answering.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey.”

  Bradley’s eyes went wide.

  “Where are you?”

  “You know I can’t tell you,” Haley said, amused.

  “Are you OK?”

  “We’re fine,” she said. “I know this is a lot to ask, but I need a favor.”

  “Why don’t you come down to the station and we can talk about it in person.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “So am I.”

  Haley sighed.

  “I’ve got a stalker,” she said.

  “All the more reason to come in and let us help you.”

  “The cyber kind of stalker,” Haley said. “She’s trying to drive a wedge between me and some of my associates. And that puts Jacob in danger.”

  “I know it’s been a bit, but you do remember the part where I’m not really much help in that realm?” Bradley said.

  He held the phone with one hand and unlocked the door with the other. Then he pulled the man through and down the stairs.

  “I just need access to your network,” Haley said. “I can take it from there.”

  Bradley laughed.

  “Fool me once,” he said. “There’s no way in hell you’re getting anywhere near our network.”

  “I know how it sounds, but I’m trying to help you.”

  “By blowing the evidence database again?”

  “Someone else is in your systems,” Haley said. “They knew I was working with you, and they knew how to find me. If you don’t lock them out, they’ll do worse than I ever did.”