“Yes. Right. But didn’t Beyer say Cade discovered a mole?”
“Yeah.”
“The implication was the mole had been there from the beginning. That can’t be Hartwell.”
No. It couldn’t.
“So while I’m happy Beyer can nail your ex for something and throw him in jail, I don’t think Thorpe is the whole ball game. We’re still missing something.”
“In the big scheme of things, if our economy is about to be pushed over the edge, is whatever we’re missing really so important?”
“I’m going to make a few calls, okay? See if I can get someone to follow up on this. I’ll get back to you.”
He hung up before I could say anything else.
Chapter 49
I called Agent Beyer and told him what I remembered. He joined me at Leo’s house an hour later. “Sorry for the delay,” he said as he came through the door. “There were some things I needed to set up.”
I sat down at the dining room table.
He put a hand to the table as he stood in front of it. “You remember the conversation. Are you sure?”
“I’m positive.”
He told me we might as well go downtown to the agency.
I scooped up my backpack. If I had to be there for a while, at least I could study. I told him about my conversation with Cade as he drove.
“That’s what Cade wanted to talk to you about? Real estate in Boston? Are you sure?” He picked up a thermal cup from the holder in the console between us and took a sip.
“I’m positive.”
“Why? I don’t get it.”
I led him through my reasoning, step by step.
“So what are you saying?”
“I’m saying that China is getting ready to tank our economy. Sooner rather than later.”
“You got to that from some Chinese students up in Boston leaving town in a hurry?”
“I got that from a lot of things.”
“And you expect me to take that to my boss?”
I unzipped my backpack, pulled a note card from my stack, and wrote down a list of names. Handed it to him.
He took it, held it up above his steering wheel so he could see it. “What’s this?”
“These congressmen should be investigated for accepting foreign campaign money. And I’m sure they have counterparts over in the Senate who should be investigated too.”
“Why? I can’t just request an investigation like this without any evidence.”
“These are all representatives who sit on the Financial Services Committee and supported a bill in committee and then voted against it once it reached the floor. If you look into their finances, I’m sure you’ll find illegal contributions routed through American bank accounts that are actually owned and funded by China.”
“That’s not possible. Foreign campaign donations are illegal.”
“The Chinese hacked the FDIC back in 2010 and then hacked the verification system for the new stablecoin. It gave them access to Americans’ accounts as well as the ability to create new ones.”
He bent the index card and deposited it into one of the cup holders. “Okay. So what about that conversation was so important to Cade?”
“The fact that the Chinese are pulling their people out of the US. Something’s going to happen. Soon. They want their people out of our country when it all falls apart.”
“And you expect me to connect point A to point B through points F, G, and Q?”
“You asked me to call you if I remembered the conversation. I have.”
“Fair enough.” He pulled out his phone. As we sat in traffic on the interstate near the Pentagon, he opened it. Thumbed a message. “In that note he wrote to you, though, he wanted to talk to you about your ex. The conversation you just told me about had nothing to do with Mr. Thorpe.”
I bit my lip. I knew it didn’t. That’s what had bothered Leo too.
“I don’t know what else to tell you. Except HARTAN is Hartwell’s company. China hacked the FDIC back in 2010 and now they’re apparently hacking the security system put in place to ensure it’s never hacked again.”
“You never spoke with Cade about your ex?”
“We did. He didn’t like Hartwell.”
“I can see why. Did Mr. Thorpe ever talk to you about his business?”
“Not in any detail. Although he loved to repeat the legend that had built up around it.”
The interstate was officially jammed. We could see the flashing lights of a police car up ahead. Agent Beyer maneuvered into the left lane as we approached the Fourteenth Street Bridge. “What legend is that?”
“He couldn’t get any backers at first. Nobody believed in him enough to invest. They believed in the idea, but everybody, all the big tech companies, were trying to do the same thing. So he put his own money into the company. Took out loans. He reached a point where he thought he’d have to give up, and then an angel investor appeared. That’s when everything turned around for him. He got his investor. Developed, then secured, his supply chain. Within a year he was bidding on the contract with the FDIC. A year after that, he was installing the system and taking the company public.”
“Did you and Cade ever talk about that?”
“He joked around about it.” In a bitter sort of way. What are the chances, he’d say, of every single thing lining up so you can take your company from zero dollars to a record-breaking public offering on Wall Street in under two years? And why can’t I get a chance like that! Perfect guy with the perfect company. No wonder he got the perfect girl. It made things a little awkward. I could ignore how I knew Cade felt about me until he said things like that. When he did, I changed the subject. Maybe that’s why we’d talked so much about economics.
We drove north on the parkway with the river on our right. Joggers in bright running shorts and tank tops crowded the paths. Motorboats shredded the Potomac, leaving white stripes of wake behind them. My thoughts turned back to Cade. He’d been so interested in the concept of angel investors. “You mean they just drop money into your lap? Out of the clear blue sky?”
Basically? “Yeah.”
“You mean there’s people out there who just look for ways to give other folks a hand? In the form of giant investments?”
“Yeah. I mean, they’re looking to make a return on that investment. There are detailed agreements. Usually you give them part ownership in the company and guarantee them a percentage of the profits.”
“How do you find them? I mean, if someone had this really great idea for a hot sauce that’s kind of a cross between Tabasco and sriracha, for instance, and everybody who’s ever tried it really likes it, how do you get an angel investor interested?”
“I have no idea.”
“How did Hartwell find his?”
“I don’t know. Some connection through his dad, I think.”
I heard myself gasp.
Agent Beyer jerked his head in my direction, which caused him to swerve.
“Sorry,” I said.
“You okay?”
“I figured it out.” I told him what I’d just remembered. “I’m almost positive that’s what Cade wanted to talk to me about. It connects everything. Hartwell’s angel investor came through his father. Congressman Thorpe is one of the names on the list I gave you. I think his father’s already been influenced by the Chinese.”
“So make it easy for me. Just give it to me straight. What’s the connection?”
“China is the angel investor. I think the money that saved Hartwell and his company is Chinese. I’ll bet they have a controlling interest in the company.”
“I was really hoping you had some kind of smoking gun.”
“I do. Do you think his company could keep their security clearances if the government knew it was owned by the Chinese? Do you think the contract would have been awarded to HARTAN if they knew the parts would come from China? That’s the missing piece. It’s not that Hartwell used Chinese components. I think it’s that he
was forced to use them. I think he’s been compromised. And so has his company.”
“Well. That’s just perfect.”
“If by perfect you mean treasonous.”
“It provides a context for Cade’s death. If people wonder why, now they’ll know.”
As we passed Rosslyn, Agent Beyer pulled his phone out. Made a call. Asked for Hartwell to be brought in. When he was done, he dropped it into the cup holder in the center console.
Our view across the river was now blocked by trees. We’d left the city behind for a forest.
The car slowed noticeably. Agent Beyer signaled and then pulled into the right lane. “I’ve got a warning light on the engine. Just came on. I’m going to look for someplace to pull over. You want to open the glove box for me? Pull out the manual? Find the warning lights section?”
I pulled it out. Flipped it open.
“What’s the one for engine temperature?”
I scanned the chart. “The thermometer that looks like it’s floating?”
He sighed. “That’s the one. What does it say to do?”
“Pull over immediately and wait for the engine to cool down.”
He pulled off at Fort Marcy. It was one of myriad historical sites in the region marked with signs to invite the curious. As we left the parkway, the road climbed a hill. We followed it to the right and then disappeared from civilization. He pulled into the long, narrow parking lot. It was ringed by tufts of grasses and a profusion of weeds. He stopped the car at the very end.
We were surrounded by trees. The parking was situated on a sort of plateau. On the rise above us, a trail meandered up into the woods. Just in front of us was the sign for a trailhead that led down, away from us, into the forest. Agent Beyer turned off the engine. “I need to take a look under the hood.”
There weren’t any other cars. The park was deserted.
“Maybe one of the caps came loose. Have I got some gloves in there?” He pointed to the glove box.
I opened it back up. Rummaged around. He had a couple pens and a flashlight rattling around. No gloves.
He opened the door. Bent down over the seat. “I always pop the hood when I want the gas and the gas when I want the hood.” A moment later the hood released. “Can you look in that center console? Maybe that’s where I put them.”
He put a foot to the ground.
I found a pair of sterile gloves. They wouldn’t do anything to protect him from heat, but they might keep his fingers from getting greasy. I handed them to him.
He went out and raised the hood.
As he tinkered around, he started talking to himself.
The car got hot fast. Sweat was forming on the agent’s cup. The scent of green tea began to permeate the air.
Green tea.
Iced green tea.
There were only two people I knew who drank their green tea iced. Mustache Man and Agent Beyer.
Mustache Man was a suspect in the case.
Agent Beyer had admitted he was a regular at the Blue Dog.
Leo’s words came back to me. Dang—a handlebar mustache. Have to hand it to the guy. Cheesy, but effective. Pull off the mustache, throw it away, and you’re a totally different man.
Why wouldn’t Agent Beyer have told the team—told Leo—that he was the man with the mustache? Because Mustache Man was the killer.
Agent Beyer was the killer.
Agent Beyer had killed Cade.
And now, I was alone with him in a deserted park.
I opened the door a crack. His words became clear.
“I can’t trust you to do anything, can I? It’s not about her—didn’t I tell you that?”
What was he talking about?
“What I don’t understand is why you had to take that journal. Why you had to mess around with that storage unit in the first place! You’d better hope no one finds out that I had to make up your alibi.”
I felt my mouth drop open. And then I heard another voice.
“You know what happened when she pressed charges after the library? They put me in jail. I spent the night there! You can’t do that to someone and get away with it. Besides, there might have been something about me in that book. She wrote down everything!”
Was that—? Agent Beyer slammed the hood down and I was able to see through the windshield again.
Hartwell was standing there right beside him.
Chapter 50
I pushed the door open, intending to flee.
But Hartwell was quicker than I was.
He made a grab for me.
“No!” I retreated from him. Releasing my seat belt, I moved toward the driver’s seat and grabbed hold of the steering wheel.
Hartwell caught hold of my ankle.
I kicked out at him with my other foot as I fumbled for the door on the driver’s side.
But Agent Beyer opened the door and then just stood there, blocking my exit.
Hartwell dragged me back across the front seat and grabbed my arm as he pulled me out. He slapped me.
I raised my forearm to protect myself.
“Thanks to you, thanks to the restraining order, I’ll be losing my security clearance!”
He gave me a shove, slamming me against the car. “The owner of the FDIC’s contractor for cybersecurity can’t not have a security clearance! Because how am I going to explain that?”
I ricocheted off the car and stumbled. Pitched forward. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have hit me!”
He kicked me in the ribs as I fell to the pavement.
My breath left me as I jackknifed on the ground in pain.
“I knew Cade was trouble. I saw you two talking at the coffee shop. We saw our system had been tampered with. The thing is? I can’t afford an investigation. Literally. If the contract gets canceled, if Wall Street hears about any of this, HARTAN’s stock tanks. If the bottom falls out, I can’t pay the Chinese back. If I can’t pay the Chinese back, then they’ll find some way to tell the feds everything.” He swore. Ran his hands through his hair, paced down to the end of the car.
Tears slipped down my cheeks. I pushed to my knees as I watched Hartwell. He paused for a moment as he reached the trunk. Then he pivoted and started back toward me.
I dropped back to the pavement. Curled into a ball.
“Hey—!” It was Agent Beyer.
He pushed Hartwell away. And then he knelt beside me.
He put a hand to my back.
“I’m sorry. I don’t condone this sort of thing. If I could have left you out of this, I would have.”
Hartwell protested. “This isn’t your business, Beyer.”
Hartwell tried to charge him, but the agent grabbed him by the arm. He yanked him forward, off balance, and then pulled a gun from his waistband and cracked him on the side of the head with the butt.
It felled Hartwell in his tracks.
Seizing the opportunity, I pushed to my feet. If I could make it into the forest, down one of the trails, maybe I could hide. Holding on to my side, I made it three steps. Four. Then I heard the report of a pistol as a bullet nicked the ground in front of me.
I froze.
Lifted trembling hands.
“Turn around.”
I turned. Slowly, carefully.
“Let’s do this the easy way, okay?”
I said nothing.
He raised the gun.
I spread my hands wider. “Okay.”
I took an experimental breath, trying to see how much damage that kick to my ribs had done. A lot.
I lowered a hand to my cheek. Felt the contours of a hand-shaped welt.
“He got you good.”
Hartwell was still sprawled on the ground at Beyer’s feet. “Is he— Did you— Is he dead?”
“No. But he will be soon.”
Beyer prodded him with his foot.
No response.
“Might have been better if I hadn’t hit him so hard, but things happen. Want to give him a kick?”
“Wh
at?”
“Might make you feel better.”
“I don’t think—”
“Right here.” He pointed out Hartwell’s side with his toe.
I shook my head.
“Turnabout is fair play.”
I shook my head again and then winced at the movement.
“Think it makes any difference? Scum like him? Go ahead.”
“No.”
“Then I’m going to need you to do some work. You’re a smart girl. You wouldn’t leave a body lying around in the open like this.”
What was he talking about?
“Way I see it, you’re going to want to drag him to that ditch down there.” He nodded somewhere out behind me into the trees.
“I—I can’t.”
He cocked the gun. “It’s amazing the things you find you can do when you don’t have a choice.”
I glanced behind me. The ditch was about ten feet away. I bent.
Gasped from the pain in my ribs.
“I’d hurry if I were you.”
I picked up Hartwell’s hand. Tugged on it.
It slipped from my grasp.
“You’re going to have to put your back into it.”
I raised my head and looked over at him.
He was leaning against the hood of his car, still pointing his gun at me.
I reached out with both hands and took hold of Hartwell’s forearms. I planted my feet and leaned back with everything I had. Cried out in pain. I tried my best but I only moved him about a foot. I had to drop his arms and pause for a moment, hands on my knees, to catch my breath.
A bullet clipped the grass beside me.
I jumped.
“I need you to take this seriously.”
I took up Hartwell’s arms again and gave another tug. And then another. I got him past the fringe of weeds. My hands slipped. I dug my fingers into his arms and tugged again. My breath was ragged, my pain acute. As I tugged again, I tripped and fell, jarring my ribs on the way down.
Fear had seized my throat, but as I gasped again in pain, a sob broke free.
“I need you to work faster.”
I rolled to my knees and took up his arms to try again.
“You’ll do better if you stand up.”
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