remained standing.
James Harkes was dressed, as always, in a black two-piece suit, starched white shirt, black straight tie. He would be anonymous among the millions of other men in this city.
“Thank you for meeting with me so quickly,” Bunting began.
“You know that I’m tasked to take care of you, Mr. Bunting,” said Harkes.
“You’ve done a good job so far.”
“So far.”
“The six bodies at the farm? I believe that Roy was framed.”
“And who would want to do that?”
Bunting hesitated before answering. “You’re joking, right?”
“I don’t normally employ humor in my job.”
“I meant there are obviously those who would have a problem with the program.”
“But why frame Roy? Either kill him or coopt him. That’s what I would do.”
Bunting didn’t look confident as he said, “But we can’t use him either. That weakens us.”
“But he may be free one day. Better for our enemies to kill him. Then he can’t come back to work ever.”
Bunting studied him closely. “Foster is talking about taking preemptive action with Edgar Roy. Do you know about that?”
Harkes said nothing.
“Harkes, did you take preemptive action with the lawyer, Ted Bergin?”
Harkes remained silent.
“Why kill him?”
Harkes’s gaze remained fixed on Bunting but he still said nothing.
“Who is authorizing this? Because I’m sure as hell not.”
“I don’t do anything without the requisite approval.”
“Who is it? Foster?”
“I’ll be in touch.”
“Harkes, once you go down that road, there’s no going back.”
“If there’s nothing else, sir?” Harkes opened the door for Bunting to pass through.
“Please don’t do this, Harkes. Edgar Roy is one of a kind. He doesn’t deserve this. He’s innocent. I know that he is.”
“Take care, Mr. Bunting.”
Once he reached the street Bunting started to walk back to his office but then veered away at the last moment. He went inside a bar, found a seat, and had a Bombay Sapphire and tonic. He checked e-mails, made a few phone calls, all routine, just to get his mind off the mess of Edgar Roy. He was caught right in the middle. People were getting killed and there was nothing he could do about it.
Lost in his own problems, he didn’t notice the tall woman who had come in after him. She settled into a chair at a table in the back of the bar, ordered an Arnold Palmer, and watched him closely without ever seeming to.
Kelly Paul patiently waited for Peter Bunting to finish drowning his worries in good gin.
CHAPTER
38
“SHE’S STOPPING,” said Sean, as he stared down at the miniature screen. “Slow down a bit when you come around the next turn.”
Michelle decelerated as they hit the curve. About five hundred yards up ahead they could see the taillights of Dukes’s car wink out.
“Lonely place,” said Michelle.
“What else would it be for a meeting like this?”
“We need to get closer.”
“On foot. Come on.”
A low stone wall provided cover and also allowed them to draw near enough to see who Carla Dukes was meeting in a small clearing that had an old picnic table and rusty charcoal grill.
He was shorter than she was, young and thin.
She walked up and down in front of the man, talking animatedly while he stood still, watching her and nodding from time to time. They could see all this, but they couldn’t hear what was being said.
Sean pulled out his camera, which he’d taken from the truck, and snapped some pictures of the pair. He studied the screen and then showed Michelle. “Recognize him?” he said quietly.
She studied the face. “No. Young and geeky. Not my idea of some super-duper spy.”
“They come in all shapes and sizes these days. In fact the ones that don’t actually look like spies are the most valuable.”
“Then this guy is golden.”
When Dukes drove off, they didn’t pick up the tail again. They followed the man instead. He was the next link in the puzzle chain. And he might just lead them where they needed to go. Since they didn’t have a tracking device on his car they had to stay closer than Michelle would have liked, but the man made no sign that he knew he was being followed.
Several hours later it was apparent where the man was going.
“Bangor,” said Sean, and Michelle nodded.
“Do you think he lives there?” she said.
Sean looked up ahead. “No. His car looks like every other airport rental.”
“Then he’s going to fly out of Bangor.”
“I think so, yeah.”
A bit later they were proved right as the car they were following pulled into the airport on the outskirts of Bangor.
On the way Sean and Michelle had already made their plans. She parked and Sean climbed out of the truck.
He said, “Get back to Martha’s Inn and keep a lookout over Megan. I don’t want her ending up like Bergin or Hilary.”
“Call me when you know where you’re going.”
“Will do.” He pulled his pistol out of his holster and handed it to her. “Take this.”
“You might need it.”
“I don’t have a case for it to take on the plane. And me getting stopped by the cops and losing this guy won’t help us.”
He turned and started off.
“Sean?”
He turned around. “Yeah?”
“Don’t die!”
He smiled. “I’ll do my best.”
Only when he was out of sight did Michelle put the Toyota in gear and drive off. But she was clearly not happy about separating from him again.
CHAPTER
39
DURING HER DRIVE back to Machias, Michelle had gotten a call from Sean at the airport. The man was on a six a.m. flight to Dulles Airport in northern Virginia with a connection in New York City. Sean had booked a ticket on the same flight.
“I caught a glimpse of his tickets. He’s in the third row on both legs. I snagged a seat in the back on both flights. The first is a Delta, the second a United. I’ll call you when we get in a little before noon.”
“Did you see the name on the ticket?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
He’d clicked off and Michelle had continued her drive. Around four in the morning she pulled into the dark parking lot of Martha’s Inn. Guests had a key that opened the outer door. She stopped in the kitchen and got a snack, then headed up the stairs. She stopped on the second landing when she saw a light on in Megan’s room. She knocked on the door. “Megan?”
The door opened a crack and Michelle eyed her. “Anything wrong?” she asked.
“I heard you drive up. I thought we could talk.”
“Okay.” Michelle parked herself in a chair by a small pine bureau. “What’s up?” she asked.
Megan was in green surgical scrubs, which she obviously used as pajamas. “Where were you guys? You just disappeared after we spoke this afternoon.”
“We had some sleuthing to do.”
“I thought you said you were going to protect me, but all you do is go off and I don’t hear anything until you come back.”
“Look, Megan, you have a point, but we’re doing the best we can with the limited resources we have. In fact, Sean is running down a lead now, but he sent me back here to keep an eye on you.”
“A lead where?”
“D.C., apparently.”
Megan sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry. I know you all are doing the best you can. It’s just…”
“Scary?”
“I didn’t really intend to do any criminal defense work when I came to work for Mr. Bergin. This case just got dropped in my lap.”
“But Sean is a terrific lawyer and
he’s done lots of criminal cases.”
“But he’s not here right now. I’m trying to draft these motions but it’s not easy.”
“Well, I’m afraid I can’t help you there.”
“Murdock came by to see me again.”
“What the hell did he want?”
“He seemed particularly interested in what you and Sean were up to.”
“I bet.”
“It seems with every step we take we get farther away from the truth.”
Michelle said, “But then one little piece falls into place and it’s off to the races.”
“You can’t count on that happening.”
“We try to make our own luck.”
“I guess.”
“Get some sleep. And how about we grab some breakfast around nine? We can talk more then. But right now I need some sleep.”
“Okay, but I’m going to lock my door and then slide the bureau against it.”
“Not a bad idea, actually.”
Michelle left the room and headed to her own. She yawned and stretched some kinks out, and then became fully awake. There was someone moving downstairs. At first she thought it might be Mrs. Burke, but the elderly landlady undoubtedly would have turned on a light in her own inn. Michelle crouched low and slipped over to the staircase, her pistol out. She focused on the movements downstairs.
It actually took a lot of energy to tread quietly. One had to hold his position, shift, and balance at optimal points.
Young. Fit. Trained.
Definitely not Mrs. Burke.
“Maxwell? Is that you?”
“Dobkin?”
“If you have your gun out, put it away. I don’t want to get shot accidentally.”
“Then stop breaking into places in the middle of the night.”
“I have a key. And I’m the police. I’m allowed.”
She holstered her weapon and came down the steps.
“Over here.”
He stepped in front of a window where the moonlight was coming through. Eric Dobkin was in uniform and looked anxious.
“Where’s your partner?” he said. “Upstairs?”
“No, he went out of town. What’s up?”
“Have you heard?”
“Heard what?”
“They found Carla Dukes dead about an hour ago in her home.”
CHAPTER
40
THE PILOT EASILY HANDLED the swirling winds off the East River, and the plane touched down on the runway at LaGuardia right on time. Sean was one of the last passengers off but picked up his pace once he left the jetway and entered the airport. The man he was tailing was up ahead, walking at a leisurely pace. Sean slowed but kept him in sight. The flight attendant on the Bangor-to-New York leg had announced the number of their next gate, and the connecting passengers headed to it. They reached it; the flight was not yet up on the marquee because they had a three-hour layover before the short hop to Virginia.
Sean grabbed some coffee and an egg sandwich. He remembered something, reached in his pocket, and turned his phone on. He immediately saw that Michelle had called numerous times. He quickly phoned her.
When she heard his voice she said, “Thank God. I tried calling you before, but it wouldn’t go through. Lots to fill you in on.”
“Don’t tell me—someone else is dead,” he said in a joking tone.
“How the hell did you know that?”
Sean’s face fell. “What? I wasn’t being serious. Who is it?”
“Carla Dukes. Dobkin came by the inn a little while after I got back and told me.”
“In the middle of the night? Why would he do that?” Sean said suspiciously.
“I’m not sure. Maybe he thinks he still owes us for covering for his guys with Murdock. Whatever the case, she’s dead and they have no leads. The FBI is handling it.”
Sean sipped his coffee and bit off a chunk of his sandwich. There had been no food service on either flight. He wasn’t sure when he had eaten last but it had been a while. The grease and fatty calories felt spectacular going down. “Did you tell Dobkin about what we saw last night?”
“What, are you drunk? Of course I didn’t. Not without talking to you first.”
Sean frowned. “I don’t want to get hit with an obstruction charge, but I’m also not ready to commit us to anything.”
“So we say nothing for now?”
“Right. Nothing.”
“If Dukes was killed because she talked to the guy you’re following, things might get really hairy really fast.”
“But if I can crack who he’s with, we might just take a giant leap forward.”
“You also might end up getting yourself killed. ”
“I’ll be careful. You watch out for yourself and Megan.”
“How are you going to follow him once you get into D.C.?”
Sean glanced across at a gift shop located a little down the concourse from his gate. “I think I see an answer. I’ll call you when I run this guy to his base.”
He clicked off, checked to make sure the fellow was still sitting and working on his laptop, and walked quickly to the gift shop. It took him a couple of minutes but he finally saw what he needed.
A toy fireman’s hat. And a small bottle of glue. He ducked into the bathroom, grabbed an empty stall, opened the box, and pried the piece of gold plastic off the front of the hat. He opened the glue, pulled out his private investigator’s credentials and, using the glue, he attached the
The Sixth Man Page 23
