by Raven Scott
“Who do you work for?” asked Sam, skipping the preliminaries. “Is it Anthony Fleming?”
Nigel just looked at him with defiance.
“Why did you take out Battleford?” No response.
Sam sighed and did an efficient search of the injured man, quickly locating a wallet and cell phone. He pulled out his own cell phone and took pictures of each piece of ID, then quickly turned on the phone. It was locked.
“I don’t suppose you’ll give me your passcode.” No response.
Sam took a tool out of his pocket and used one of the very sharp ends to pry open the SIM card holder on the side of Nigel’s phone and removed the tiny chip.
“We can hear the sirens, Sam,” Evan interrupted. “Time to go.”
“Aye, I’m done here.”
When Sam cautiously stepped outside, the police cars were turning onto the street in front of the Ross building project. Battleford’s security detail and the other construction employees were more concerned with the impending arrival of city law enforcement to care about the Fortis team, allowing for a trouble-free retreat out the back side of the construction site.
Thirty minutes later, Sam, Evan, and Renee walked into Kaylee’s apartment, dusty but determined.
As they strode through to the dining room, all three immediately started removing the small collection of guns and knives strapped in strategic places on their bodies. Each weapon clanged loudly on the wooden surface as the agents laid them out for cleaning, then eventually storage. Still acting in practiced unison, they pulled off their dark outer-layer tops, then the protective vests underneath, leaving them in black undershirts.
Sam looked over at Kaylee as she walked into the area from the hall to her bedroom. Her eyes were wide and unblinking as she caught his gaze. He felt an immediate sense of relief.
“Okay, what do we have, Raymond?” Sam demanded, quickly refocusing on the mission.
“The shooter is Nigel Dobson, and he has a very interesting background,” replied Raymond. “On paper, he’s a subcontractor, billing Ross as a construction supervisor for the last three years. A very well-paid supervisor making about two hundred and fifty thousand dollars a year.”
“Clearly, he’s being compensated for his other skills,” Renee said.
“That’s because he was a detective with the New Jersey State Police up until three years ago,” added Raymond.
Evan whistled. Things had just gotten a bit more complicated.
Sam took a wide stance and crossed his arms across his chest to think.
“We went into this surveillance assuming that Battleford was in charge of the Ross projects, but looks to me like someone else was pulling the strings,” he suggested, rubbing the sore spot on his chest absently. “Based on what went down in the trailer, it looks like Battleford was a pawn instead. He wanted to talk but couldn’t in front of Dobson.”
“So Fleming has more than one person of authority doing his dirty work for Ross,” Evan concluded.
“It makes sense,” Renee added. “An operation like this requires that as few people as possible know all the connections, but that knowledge also makes them a threat to Fleming. It would be necessary to have eyes on someone like Battleford as much as possible.”
“Aye, it seems there really is no honor among thieves,” Sam agreed. “Makes you wonder if those bodyguards were protection or escorts.”
“Lucas is now online by video,” Raymond interrupted to inform them.
Sam and the others moved so they could see the third Fortis owner on the computer screen. Kaylee and David Ferguson joined them.
“I’m mobilizing a team here in Virginia to make contact with Anthony Fleming as soon as possible,” Lucas announced. “Michael will take the lead, with Tony and Lance for support. They have the details on the key evidence we have connecting Ross to Groveland and Battleford to Holt.”
Lucas had been patched into the communications link as the field team drove from Jersey City to Lower Manhattan and was up to speed on the new developments.
“Do we know where Fleming is?” Sam asked.
“The last position I have from him was at the Groveland bridge project outside Bethesda,” Raymond noted. “That was about an hour ago. I’m still trying to track him down.”
“It’s almost four o’clock now, so we’re watching both his office and his house in Arlington,” Lucas said.
“We have to find him before he learns about Battleford and the activity in Jersey City. It might spook him into going underground, and Battleford is our only leverage right now,” Renee said.
“And before Dobson can tell anyone about my questions to Battleford,” Sam added. “I took his SIM card, so that should buy us some time. It also gives us access to his phone contents.”
He tossed the microchip into the air, and Raymond caught it.
“Okay, let’s see where this leads us.” The former NSA agent took out a card reader and loaded in Dobson’s SIM. “I’ll start cross-referencing the data with Fleming and the Groveland information we already have.”
The team watched Raymond do his magic, waiting for some actionable intel that could help plan their next move.
“There’s nothing there,” Raymond confirmed about ten minutes later. “Dobson uses his cell phone mostly for communication with other Ross employees and several vendors. There are a couple of personal contacts, like a girlfriend in Jersey City and a few friends. But whatever instructions Dobson was following, he didn’t get them through this phone.”
“We got Fleming,” Lucas suddenly announced through video. “Michael has eyes on him now entering the Groveland office building. Our team is preparing to go in.”
“Good. Have them prepare for significant resistance,” Sam instructed. “I guarantee Fleming’s security team is well trained. We now have enough hard evidence to ensure Fleming is arrested and faces a long federal investigation, so let’s use it and Battleford as leverage to confirm he ordered the actions against Holt. But we cannot mention George Clement. It’s too risky.”
“You got it,” Lucas confirmed.
“I have us connected to the voice communications between Michael and the team,” Raymond told them.
“Put it on the speakers,” Sam instructed, and the group around the dining table started listening to the action for about twenty tense, nerve-racking minutes.
The first half of that time was filled with silence and static, suggesting Michael Thorpe was leading Tony Donellio and Lance Campbell through the building, toward the target. The small ground team had elite training and exceptional skills from the FBI, Interpol, and the U.S. Army Rangers, respectively. They were stealthy and efficient, reaching what they would soon confirm as Fleming’s office on the top floor of the eight-story building in less than ten minutes. There were sounds of scuffling, a few groans and gasps, labored breathing.
“The security team has been disarmed. We’re approaching Fleming alone in his office,” Michael whispered before speaking more loudly in a firm, authoritative voice a few seconds later. “Anthony Fleming, please remain seated behind your desk and you will not be harmed.”
“Who are you? What do you want?” Fleming demanded, his voice only faintly heard through the voice transmission.
“We’re here to obtain information in a private investigation.”
“What? You can’t just barge in here and attack my people!”
“Mr. Fleming, we have proof of federal crimes being orchestrated from these offices under your authority, so it will be in your best interest to cooperate with our investigation,” Michael continued evenly.
“This is outrageous!”
“Mr. Fleming, we have concrete evidence that one of your employees, Nate Battleford, has been engaged in intimidation, coercion, and bribery while executing his responsibilities in your company. Was he acting under your orders?”
“Nate? What evidence? I’ve never asked him to do anything like that.”
“Four years ago, Jason Holt with the
Baltimore Journal was paid fifty thousand dollars in cash to kill a story on Groveland bribing city officials in exchange for building contracts. Then he was murdered to cover it up,” Michael persisted. “Was that done under your direction?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have nothing to do with anyone being killed!” Fleming’s tone becoming increasingly desperate and frantic.
“I repeat, Mr. Fleming, we already have the evidence on Nate Battleford and Groveland’s illegal business practices. We will be handing them over to the FBI today. To be clear, the only interest of our private investigation is the truth about the murder of Jason Holt. If you give us the information we need on Holt, there will be no need to add a murder investigation to your charges.”
“What do you want?” Fleming finally demanded, starting to feel the corner he was squeezed into.
“Did you bribe Holt and then have him killed four years ago?”
“No! I had nothing to do with it.”
“Then who did? Battleford works for you, and Holt was killed to protect Groveland business interests. Who else would profit from the cover-up, Mr. Fleming?”
There was a brief silence.
“We only need the truth, or you will soon be under investigation for murder on top of everything else,” Michael pressed.
“You have no idea what you’re involved in here,” Fleming finally stated so softly that the Fortis team around the dining table in Manhattan almost didn’t hear it. “You’re scratching at a door you do not want to open.”
“Last chance,” Michael insisted.
“I had nothing to do with that Holt incident. And I have nothing further to add.”
“Then you can plead your innocence with the feds,” stated Michael.
The team listened for another minute or so as the agents on the ground left Anthony Fleming alone in his office and made a quick retreat from the Groveland building.
“Dammit!” Sam muttered, slamming his fist on the desk.
There was a long silence.
“Michael and the others are now returning to headquarters,” Lucas confirmed. “I’ll give you guys a call back after I’ve debriefed them.”
“Thanks, Lucas,” Sam replied before they disconnected. “Raymond, can you connect us with the FBI field office in Maryland? We need to turn over what we know and get this guy and his people off the street as soon as possible.”
“But he didn’t tell us anything,” Kaylee protested, finally speaking up for the first time. “How will we learn what he knows?”
“Don’t worry. We have a pretty good relationship with the Bureau,” Sam told her in a solemn voice. “It’s a bit of a barter system. They share all the information on the cases we bring forward to them, and in return we continue to bring them cases with the evidence all tied up nicely in a bow.”
“I’ll see if they’ll allow Michael to sit in on Fleming’s questioning once he’s brought in. The feds still tolerate him for some reason,” Raymond added, teasing the friend he’d worked with on many cases over the last few years.
“So, what now?” Kaylee asked, with her arms around her.
Sam took a deep breath and the others stepped back from the table, each coming to terms with such a swift end to the intense operations through the afternoon.
“I think we celebrate a few victories,” he said, looking around at each member of his team. “By the end of this, Groveland Development and Ross Construction will be under federal investigation. And your evidence, Kaylee, will ensure they are shut down and prosecuted.”
He looked down at Kaylee intently from a few steps away.
“You, doolally lass, have managed to take down a major criminal organization.”
“What?” Kaylee asked, not sure if it was a good thing or not.
“He said you were crazy,” Renee explained with a shake of her head. “But what he really means is that you’re brilliant. Right, old man?”
Sam smiled and then chuckled, as did the others around them. Evan walked forward and pulled Kaylee into a big hug. It was clearly brotherly, but Sam turned away, annoyed by how jealous he was that his friend was free to hug her so openly.
“I could do with a celebration,” Raymond said. “Good food, some wine, music. It is the Fourth of July, in case everyone has forgotten.”
Renee snorted. “You’ve been here eating catered homemade food this whole time, you bastard. We’re the ones who need something besides energy bars and warm water.”
“That’s not my fault. Blame Ice. He’s the one who planned the operation,” Raymond protested.
Sam watched their banter and agreed that they could all use a little relaxation.
“Aye, let’s order some food from somewhere nice,” he replied. “But we’re still on lockdown until tomorrow. I want to make sure Fleming is firmly in custody before we consider this mission completed.”
Raymond didn’t need any further encouragement, and got busy sourcing a restaurant that would deliver anything from steak to lobster to sushi. Sam, Evan, and Renee got busy cleaning their weapons, then locking them up in one of the custom trunks they had arrived in. Sam remained busy, but his attention was occasionally drawn to Kaylee. She was sitting on the living room sofa, occasionally looking at her phone but mostly just deep in thought. As badly as he wanted to go over to see how she was doing, Sam continued to maintain a professional distance.
A short while later, he went into the den to change out of his work clothes and finally have a look at the damage to his chest.
“That looks like it’s going to hurt for a bit,” Evan said as he walked into the open door and found Sam standing in the middle of the room with his chest bare. There was a red, welted spot just right of his heart. From experience, he knew it would soon darken to a spectacular shade of purple, then black and blue over the next couple of days.
“I’ve had worse,” Sam replied. He turned away and grabbed another one of his shirts, which were now washed by Silvia every few days. There was an awkward pause while he pulled it on.
“Look, I’ve been thinking about things,” Evan finally added. “I think I reacted badly to what you told me. About you and Mikayla.”
Sam turned back to his friend, hiding his relief under a stoic expression.
“Someone very smart reminded me that Mikayla made the right decision to end our relationship. So it’s a little foolish to be mad about what may have caused that decision,” Evan continued with his hands in his pockets. “She was brave when I wasn’t.”
Sam nodded and cleared his throat.
“You made the right decision, Sam, not to tell me about it four years ago,” continued Evan, causing Sam to blink in surprise. “I would not have seen things so clearly back then, and I didn’t know you as well. So there’s a good chance I would have let my ego ruin a good partnership. Fortis may not be what it is today if you hadn’t made the right call.”
Sam cleared his throat again, rocking back on his heels. Evan tapped him on the back of the shoulder with what came close to being affection.
“If you think there is something between you and Mikayla, don’t let any of this stuff stand in your way.”
CHAPTER 21
The team enjoyed a big meal with beer and wine from Kaylee’s collection. Then they sat around talking for a couple of hours, telling stories about experiences with their various agencies prior to joining Fortis. Kaylee could only listen with an open mouth and wide eyes at what these people did on a regular basis. Even the usually silent David Ferguson shared a little bit about his work with DaCosta Solutions as a logistic support specialist in a few different conflict-ridden zones.
The only person who didn’t talk was Evan, and Kaylee had a growing suspicion about why. When he had first arrived in New York almost a week ago, she’d assumed it was as a close friend and as Sam’s partner in their security firm. But Kaylee had done her research over the last few years and knew that Fortis was very specialized and highly skilled in the security field. They also had
very little public information about them, despite the fancy website that came up in a browser search. What she couldn’t figure out was why Evan had joined their ranks.
After his father died suddenly last year, Evan had been appointed as interim CEO of DaCosta Solutions, and everyone had just assumed he would take the role permanently. After all, his father had built the company, and Evan had worked there since he graduated college. Kaylee had been as surprised as anyone to learn that he had stepped down from the role, preferring a seat on the board of directors.
There was no doubt that Evan had the experience to run a firm like Fortis, but how did a corporate executive who had been born into wealth and privilege operate at the same level as the other agents around him? If Kaylee hadn’t seen it in real life over the last few days, she wouldn’t have believed it. And now his silence within the boisterous group discussion spoke volumes about how little she knew about the real Evan DaCosta.
It seemed like everyone had their secrets, and it made Kaylee feel a little better about things between them.
“What are you smiling to yourself about?” Evan asked as he sat beside her around the dining table. It now had much less equipment on it as the team pared down their support. He handed her a bottle of beer.
“Nothing. I was just thinking about the very large collection of handmade Italian shoes you had,” she told him.
He laughed. “I still have it. Though I think Nia has been slowly giving them away to charity.”
“One day, you’ll have to tell me how running the international operations for DaCosta gave you the skills needed to carry a small arsenal of weapons into a field of bad guys,” she told him smoothly. “I don’t think it would have been listed in the roles and responsibilities.”
Evan chuckled, obviously not surprised by her statement. “Maybe one day. But, for now, let’s just say I’ve picked them up over the years.”
“No worries, I won’t ask any more questions. I wouldn’t want you to have to kill me.”
He burst out laughing at the old cliché, and Kaylee giggled beside him. It felt good to recapture a little of the easygoing friendship they had started out with.
