The task force was waiting outside Riley’s office. He walked right past them, his face stormy, and then doubled back. “I want you all to spend the next hour polishing up your excuses because I am in no mood to listen to anything negative. I want written reports. In your hands, then to my hands. I want facts. I want to know how that house or cabin, whatever the hell it is, in Montana came to Jack Emery. How can he afford a vacation home? I think it’s just a tad too convenient for him to be fishing, or whatever the hell he was doing out there in the wilds, when all this crap went down. That whole scenario smells big time. I want to know how those vigilantes got back into this country. If you can’t give me information that I can use I want your resignations on my desk. You’ve had ten fucking months with no results.”
Riley stomped off, glad he was out of their sight so he could scratch his various itches. He looked in both conference rooms, trying to decide who he wanted to tackle first, Robinson or Spritzer. He remembered the single-digit salute the female reporter had offered up to him when he’d had her hauled in for questioning ten months ago. He scratched his testicles and was instantly sorry. Now they itched even worse. Maybe the water company had put new chemicals in the water or something. Spritzer first, he decided. If there was one thing he excelled at, it was intimidating women. He banged open the door, his expression murderous.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Spritzer.”
It took a lot to intimidate Maggie Spritzer and this clown with the red face certainly wasn’t going to cow her. “What’s good about it, Mr. Riley? It’s pouring rain. I’m soaked to the skin. You haul me in here and don’t even tell me why. You take my cell phone and my backpack. I want a lawyer.”
Riley tried to be unobtrusive as he scratched his backside. “Did you do something that requires the services of an attorney?”
“No, that’s why I want one. This is the second time I’m asking for an attorney. Why did you bring me here?”
Riley looked down at Agent Nolan’s report. “What were you doing at my home this morning and why were you fighting with a big man in the middle of the road?”
Maggie decided to bluster. “Is that what this is all about? I went out to your house to interview your wife but she left before I could talk to her. Some big sumo wrestler type picked a fight with my taxi driver and I was trying to break it up. My driver didn’t speak English very well. The big guy was jabbering in another language, too. It was like a circus. Now can I go?”
“Not yet. What were you doing at the Vietnam Memorial?”
“Since I blew the interview with your wife I decided to do the Memorial. You know how people go there rain, snow or shine. It’s called human interest. I want a lawyer. That’s three times I’m asking for a lawyer. My paper isn’t going to like this.”
Riley needed to scratch his crotch so bad he thought he was going to scream. He turned around, his hand digging into his testicles. The temporary relief was so exquisite he thought he would swoon. He turned back around to face the reporter. “Who were you talking to in the parking lot?”
The lie came to her lips at the speed of light. “Some family who was asking directions to the Lincoln Memorial. I didn’t ask their names. I want a lawyer. This is my fourth request.”
“Yes, I know. All in good time.” Riley reached up to scratch his neck.
“What’s wrong with your face? Looks to me like an allergic reaction to something. Maybe it’s hives. Stress will do that to you. I know because I did an article on hives and the people who get them. Stress. Stress can kill you. You should think about practicing yoga. It’s all about communing with yourself and serenity. I can see this is probably a stressful job for you. Denying me my right to have an attorney present only adds to the stress factor,” Maggie babbled. She was so out of breath from babbling that she had to gulp for air.
In spite of himself, Riley’s hand went to his face. It felt hot to his touch. He wished there was a mirror in the room. “Don’t worry about my face or yoga or your attorney. We’re talking about you. I think you’re lying. Because I think you’re lying, I’m going to let you sit in here to think about all the lies you just told me. I want you to think about what I can do to you. Now I’m going to talk to your partner. For both your sakes I hope his story matches yours.”
“Wait just a damn minute. My partner does things differently than I do. He has his snitches, his sources, just like I have mine. We work on different things. Just because we sleep together doesn’t mean we work together. We’re competitors. This is my fifth request for a lawyer.”
“So you say.” He had to get out of here and into the men’s room before he went out of his mind. “I’ll be back,” he said ominously.
Maggie waited until the director’s back was turned before she offered up her famous single-digit salute. “Screw you, Riley.”
Chapter 27
Mitch Riley raced into the men’s room and stared at himself in the mirror. What the hell was wrong with him? He dug at himself, scratching as fast as he could with both hands while he watched his left eye swell shut. He stopped scratching long enough to try to pull his eyelid upward. “Fuck,” he cursed as he left the room, still scratching, to run to the gym where he ripped off his clothes and headed for the shower. The lukewarm water felt like a balm to his red, itchy body. He lathered up and rinsed, experiencing moments of relief, and then the itch returned immediately. Christ Almighty, he couldn’t stay in here forever. He had to run the FBI. What the hell was happening to him?
Ten minutes later, Riley stepped out of the shower, dressed and left the gym, still itching. He did his best to ignore the agents who stared at him as he made his way to the room where Ted Robinson was waiting for him. He heard someone say, “Maybe he has poison ivy?” Yeah, yeah, that’s probably what it was. From the manure in his driveway. Well, they should be able to give him a shot for something like that. Maybe some pills. A lot of pills.
Ted Robinson gasped when Riley slammed into the room. On his worst day, Godzilla looked better. He cowered in his seat when Riley snarled, “Talk to me, Robinson, and don’t leave anything out. We have your sex partner down the hall, and she’s singing like the proverbial canary.”
Maggie singing like a canary? The Maggie he knew could not even sing off-key, much less like a canary. Lie number one. “That’s your problem, Riley. She sounds like a frog when she sings. What do you want? Why’d you drag me in here? I think I want a lawyer before everyone starts getting pissy. Are you sure you’re all right, Mr. Riley? Your face looks like…like it’s getting bigger.” Ted tried to lean farther back in his chair but there was no place else to go. He could smell Riley’s coffee breath, that’s how close he was.
Riley wanted to rip the skin off his body. It took every ounce of willpower not to scratch. “I told you to talk. As you can see, I’m not in a very good mood.”
“Yeah, well, I said I wanted a lawyer. You gonna get the rubber hoses out or what? I thought you FBI types were civilized. You know, the college degrees, the suits, the shades, the badges, the whole ball of wax. What is it you want?”
“I want to know where the vigilantes are. You and your girlfriend know something and I want to know what it is, and I want to know now!”
“Yeah, well I want to know a lot of things myself, Mr. Riley. Like what the hell is wrong with you? Are you contagious? I don’t want you breathing on me. God, you look like you’re going to explode!” To make his point, Ted leaped off his chair and backed himself into a corner as he bellowed at the top of his lungs. “Get me the hell out of here! This guy is going to explode!”
Riley couldn’t take it one more second. He pressed a button on the wall. “I need a doctor right now! Send someone in here STAT!”
To Ted, he said, “You’re here until I see a doctor. One wrong move and I’ll toss you in the goddamn shredder all by myself. Remember this: whichever one of you talks first gets the lawyer.” Riley was afraid he was going to black out any second. It was all he could do to stand erect. Scratching himself
from head to toe wasn’t helping.
“Are you shitting me, Riley? You drag me in here because I started a stupid rumor? The last time I checked this was a free country. A rumor is a rumor. So, okay, I’m sorry I said the vigilantes were back in town. It was a slow news day. I wanted to get a rise out of everyone. Hey, man, it worked. Everyone has been chasing their tails for a week now. It got reams of press and hours on television. That’s what it’s all about, you know.”
Riley did his best to keep his wits about him. A rumor! This guy was saying he started a goddamn rumor? Then who broke into his home office and left the message with the seven stick figures? Alice? She was too stupid to pull off something like that. “You’re lying,” he managed to gasp.
“Well, back then I was but now it’s not a lie. They are here. They called me. Personally. They wanted to set up a meeting. You guys blew it when you hauled me in here. I was on my way to the meeting. They’re here, Riley!” Ted sing-songed. “And I bet you my next week’s salary, they got to you. Think about it, Director. Did you have…this allergic reaction or rash thing, or whatever it is you have, before? It just cropped up, right? It ain’t poison ivy, either. I get poison ivy so I know what it looks like. Blame the vigilantes and then blame yourself for hauling me in here. Can I go now?”
“Shut up, Robinson. You know damn well I can hold you for seventy-two hours. Let me get this straight. You started a rumor the vigilantes were in town because it was a slow news day and then by magic, the vigilantes are suddenly here? Is that what you want me to believe?” Where the hell was the goddamn doctor?
“Well, yeah, that’s about it. Incredible timing, wouldn’t you say? Who knew I had such amazing power?” Ted smirked as he threw his hands in the air.
The door opened suddenly and a potbellied little man with gray hair entered carrying a bulging medical bag.
Ted went into his act, screaming and yelling that Riley had the plague or maybe worse and he wanted out of the room. “I want a mask. Give me some kind of shot of something. I want a lawyer,” he bellowed as an afterthought.
Two agents appeared out of nowhere. They did their best to avoid looking at Director Riley, who was digging at his beet red face and neck.
“I’ve called for an ambulance, Director Riley. I’m going to need to run some tests that can only be done in the hospital,” the doctor said.
Riley stopped scratching long enough to issue orders. He fought with himself, with every ounce of willpower he had, not to black out. To the female agent, he said, “File the press releases on my desk immediately.” To the male agent he said, “Lock this guy up and don’t let him near a lawyer until I say so. The same goes for Spritzer. Where’s the task force?”
The two agents looked everywhere but at Riley as they shuffled from one foot to another. Finally, the female agent said, “Their resignations are on your desk. They cleaned out their desks and are out of the building.”
Riley wanted to cry but his eyes felt like they were glued shut. It was a relief when he was helped onto a gurney and wheeled out of the office.
Thirty-six hours later, Maggie Spritzer and Ted Robinson walked out of the Hoover Building to a bright, sunny day. Maggie turned around and offered up her single-digit salute. Ted grinned and did the same thing. They walked along, savoring the bright spring weather, their destination the Post, where Maggie was welcomed with open arms while their colleagues shied away from Ted.
Within minutes they learned that the acting director was in the hospital with a mystery illness that defied diagnosis. That was the good news. The bad news was Riley was conducting business as usual from his hospital room. They further learned that Judge Cornelia Easter, Attorney Elizabeth Fox, District Attorney Jack Emery and Harry Wong, a martial arts expert, were fugitives, with warrants issued for their arrest.
“We’re the only paper in the District that didn’t run with that story. We didn’t print a word based on your calls, guys. I hope I’m not going to regret it,” the city editor said in a voice that was somewhere between a purr and a snarl. “Tell me something I can print.”
Maggie ignored her boss. “Did I get any calls while I was an unwilling guest of the FBI?” she asked casually as she settled herself in front of her computer. “I couldn’t believe they wanted to keep my cell phone. I had to threaten them with the paper and my First Amendment rights. They finally turned it over.”
Maggie rolled her chair backward until she was facing Ted’s desk. Her voice was an angry hiss. “I can’t believe you told Riley the vigilantes called you. I denied it. Why in the hell did you do that? You blew it and if they call me again, I’m not sharing. Jerk,” she said before she rolled back to her desk.
Ted rolled his chair after her. “Are you kidding? Did you see that son of a bitch? I thought he was going to breathe on me and I was going to get what he had. Has,” he corrected himself. “I didn’t sell you out. I spoke only for myself. If the situation was reversed, I’d share with you. I even told them I started the rumor. It’s not my fault they didn’t believe me. Come on, Maggie, tell me you’ll share.”
Maggie gaped at her partner. “In a pig’s eye you would. Go sell that to someone who cares. If the vigilantes call me again, I’m going to tell them you gave it up. Jerk!” she repeated.
Ted rolled his chair back to his desk. He felt lower than a snake’s belly when he turned on his computer to bring up the front pages of the four newspapers that were the Post’s competition.
After he read the four articles he snorted in disgust and he rewrote the articles in his head. He could write circles around those guys. At best what he was reading was a slapdash job. He hoped that Judge Easter, Lizzie Fox, Jack and Harry Wong would sue the Bureau and all the papers along with the reporters who’d written the stories. Like Judge Easter or Lizzie would really put their professions on the line for the vigilantes. Jack, maybe. Nah, Jack had ethics. He realized he didn’t know enough about Harry Wong to form an opinion as to what he would or wouldn’t do.
Ted realized he didn’t always think like this. The thirty-six hours in Bureau custody might have something to do with his switch up. Then again, maybe he was finally becoming realistic. It still baffled him that the vigilantes were in town. How weird was that? He started a rumor and voila! They appear. “I must be psychic,” he muttered.
Walking past his desk, Maggie heard him. “You’re not psychic. You’re an asshole.”
Ted’s head jerked upright. “Where are you going?”
“Since when do I have to tell you where I’m going? I have to pee. Is that okay with you?”
“Do you need your backpack to go to the bathroom?” Ted asked suspiciously.
Maggie rolled her eyes. “Well, yeahhh,” she drawled.
“You need to stop lying. Your nose is going to grow a foot long.” Ted sniffed but he didn’t take his eyes off his lover’s retreating back.
Maggie knew he was watching her so she offered up her middle finger. Lately, she seemed to be doing that a lot.
Inside the bathroom, Maggie sat down on a stool to contemplate her options. She wished there was a way to call the vigilantes. But that was impossible so she had to wait for them to contact her again. And, she needed to come to terms with the snap decision she’d made in the parking lot. All she would have had to do was open her mouth, point out the trio, and the FBI agent would have taken off after the little group. Was it just the scoop? Was it because they had called her instead of some other reporter? Well, they did call Ted, but she knew that was an afterthought. This was a woman-to-woman thing. She felt it in her gut. Which brought her back to the decision she’d made. She had let them get away. She’d suffered through thirty-six hours of grilling by FBI agents and she hadn’t given up a thing. Not a thing. She felt proud of herself for not divulging anything that the Bureau could use against her or the vigilantes.
Like Ted, she’d read the competition’s articles online. She liked the part where the three reporters said Maggie Spritzer of the Post had denied knowin
g anything about the vigilantes, whereas Ted Robinson, also of the Post, had said loud and clear that the vigilantes had contacted him on his cell phone. That would not play well with the other journalists in the area. Ted was going to be off-limits for a very long time. Maybe forever, Maggie thought gleefully. Maybe she would have to get a new partner.
Maggie stayed in the bathroom for a full hour before she decided to leave. By now Ted should have given up. Alas, he was waiting by the elevator for her.
“You’re tainted, big boy. I can’t afford to be seen with you. Now, that doesn’t mean I won’t sleep with you, but I can’t be seen in public with you. Shoo! Scat! Beat it, Ted!”
Chapter 28
The vigilantes had cabin fever.
Kathryn was snapping and snarling as she paced the confines of the small living room. The others watched her with glum looks on their faces. “We’re forty-eight hours over our time limit. How much longer will we be safe staying here? Well?” she bellowed when no one answered her.
Myra stood up and walked over to where the former long-distance truck driver stood. She wrapped her arms around the angry woman. “We came here to do a job, Kathryn. We can’t abandon Nellie, Lizzie, Jack and Harry. I ask you to remember that they all helped us in our blackest hours. Please, take a deep breath and sit down.”
Kathryn sat down, her eyes locking with those of Lizzie Fox. She could easily read the defiance, the intelligence in the lawyer’s eyes. Then she looked at Judge Easter, who was smiling at her the way a mother smiles at her daughter. She returned a wan smile. Jack and Harry walked over to her to pat her shoulder. A sign that they recognized her impatience. A sign that they understood. A sign that something was about to happen.
“Look, I just hate inactivity. We should be doing something. We’ve been here too long already. This was supposed to be an in-and-out deal. Things are going wrong. Why aren’t we going after Maggie Spritzer?” Kathryn swiped at a long strand of hair dropping over her forehead.
8. Hide and Seek Page 18
