by S. D. Skye
“Mr. Cartwright. You look ill. Is everything all right?”
“I’m fine. It’s the air in that place. Sometimes you have to get out,” Cartwright replied, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.
J.J., unconvinced, felt a tingle on the back of her neck. She reached her free hand back to soothe it. He was lying...but about what she had no idea. He didn’t feel fine. He didn’t look fine. She only questioned why. Maybe he was again caving under the pressure. After all, she’d personally witnessed him meltdown before.
“Fancy meeting you here,” he said. “I was just telling Director Freeman that I planned to call and find out how your meeting with Jack went. We can’t thank you enough for attempting to speak with him.”
“No problem.” She took a deep breath to brace herself in case he told a lie that brought on a more intense reaction. “Glad I could be of service.”
“So what did he have to say? Probably not much right?” Cartwright asked, his voice reflecting more hope than certainty.
“No, sir. As a matter of fact, he had plenty to say,” she said, watching for any change in his expression. “He claims he’s been framed and that someone in the Bureau is responsible.”
He tilted his head to the side. For a moment, he appeared shaken but he recovered quickly. “Yeah. The problem is no one could fail the polygraph exam twice on Jack’s behalf, except Jack. He was the only one hooked up to the box. He must take you for a fool to believe you’d fall for that.”
“Yeah, I’m always amazed at what people take me for.” Careful to keep her expression neutral, she said, “If you want to hear something crazier, he seems to think he can identify the person responsible. What do you think about that?”
“Did he name him?”
“Him? No,” she said, finding it curious Cartwright specified a male. Maybe the suggestion was just a function of the English language. Perhaps there was more to it. “But if his allegations are true, we’ll get him eventually. What’s done in the dark will always find its way to the light.”
“I agree. I agree. At least we know where his head’s at, right?” Cartwright shifted his gaze to the sea of brake lights flashing in rush hour traffic. He looked toward the ground, deflated. “Uhhh, did he have anything else to add?”
“Yeah. Just one other thing. He questioned the speed at which the investigation was conducted before he got arrested. But I’m sure you believed he’d be a flight risk, especially with all the cash.”
“Of course. That’s exactly what I thought. And I acted within the bounds of the law.”
An itch spiked through the center of her spine.
“Damnit!” she yelled.
Her knees buckled and she grabbed Cartwright’s arm to keep her balance.
“You okay?” He placed his hand against her back to ensure she was steady.
The sensation passed a moment later. She composed herself and continued. “I’m okay...just fine. The last few days have been exhausting. I think I probably should’ve grabbed some breakfast with my coffee—woozy.”
He nodded. “Well, if that’s all you have for me, I really must be going now. I’ll be sure to pass the information on to Director Freeman.”
He started to walk away but stopped. He spun around to face J.J., his expression sullen.
“You know, as FBI Agents, the weight of our country’s security rests on our shoulders. Unfortunately, not all of us bear the full weight of that responsibility gracefully.”
“Yes,” she said, her mind focused on ICE Phantom. “And apparently some of us can’t bear it at all.”
Both turned to walk their separate ways. A few steps into his journey Cartwright called out, “J.J.! Wait a minute.” He moved closer. His eyes were glossy, dampened with the remnants of almost stifled tears. “Meet me in my office first thing tomorrow morning. I have some important information you need.”
“About what?”
“You ever play chess, Agent McCall?”
She tilted her head to the side. “Sure, a few times in college. Why do you ask?”
“Well, sometimes when playing chess, one has to sacrifice the pawn to get the king.”
J.J. paused for thought. “So, uhhh, am I supposed to be the king or pawn in the scenario?”
“Neither. Right now, you’re the most important piece on the board—the queen. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Chapter 25
Distracted by Cartwright’s elusiveness, J.J. literally ran into Tony at the office door. They exchanged morning greetings and turned to go to their cubicles when who should appear but Chris and Lana. If the two had some romantic bond that made Chris maniacally insane at the thought of Lana’s extracurricular activities with Jack, she couldn’t discern. Lately, Chris appeared a little colder, emotionless. Maybe he had finally come to his senses. Maybe the voodoo that she do so well no longer wooed him into stupidity.
“Hey. You two have been quiet lately,” Chris said, stopping them as he stepped away from Lana’s cubicle. “Either you’re keeping a low profile to stay out of trouble or you’re up to no good. Which is it?”
“Neither,” Tony responded, agitated. Chris was probing for information. From the look on his face, J.J. could anticipate the smell of bullshit about to seep from his greeting. “We’ve been investigating. You know, the work the government pays us to do on behalf of the American people. The work you’d be engaged in if you weren’t so busy playing footsie.”
Both of J.J.’s eyebrows popped up.
Chris’s expression hardened, his voice rose. “You’re one to talk.” He motioned his head toward J.J.
“We could take this outside if you want to discuss it further,” Tony said. He went express Jersey on Chris, with his chest puffed and back rigid. Chris had crossed the line. And J.J. was caught in the middle of Testosterone City.
“All right, boys. All right. That’ll be quite enough, thank you,” J.J. said. “Knock it off or I’ll send both of you to the principal’s office.”
Why Chris had suggested Tony and J.J. were intimately involved, she didn’t know. Didn’t really bother J.J. but Tony was more than mildly perturbed. As she watched them argue back and forth, J.J. noticed Chris had something of a slick nature, his every gesture, every word reeked of used car salesman. If indeed he was ICE Phantom, he’d still need motivation and nothing logical came to mind. He’d come from a fairly well-to-do family, graduated from Stanford, never smoked or drank—no drugs. Major health nut. A bit narcissistic but not overly so, not for a third-generation legacy FBI agent. J.J. was a second-generation legacy, so she couldn’t hold that against him. Besides, a certain level of cockiness was expected and, to some extent, required to be effective at this job.
His only weakness (as far as she could tell) was his addiction to blond, blue-eyed, big busted women. But most men on the planet could confess that sin. He had a reputation for wining them and dining them all the way to his bed. He spread his affections as far and as wide as their slim, toned legs. Then he dropped them cold. His curiosity was only piqued by the aloof, the uninterested. Lana didn’t fit the bill on any count. The rumor mill suggested she’d been had by one and all—from Gs to G-men anyone with credentials would do. For Chris, using her body and winning her heart were separate challenges, the latter might intrigue him beyond reason. Lana’s tryst with Jack could drive him to jealousy and send him over sanity’s edge.
Time and time again the love of a woman had proved more than sufficient motivation to spy for the Russians, especially if Chris believed purchasing her affection would net him the ultimate prize.
The moment, ripe with opportunity, offered J.J. the chance to probe Chris, to elicit information and confirm her suspicions.
“Yeah, everything’s been nuts around here since Jack’s arrest. Can’t believe he asked to meet with me...of all people.”
“Yeah. Strange indeed.”
“I’m rather surprised he hasn’t asked Lana to visit yet. They seemed so close,” she said. “Why do you suppo
se that is?”
Chris shrugged, played nonchalant. “I don’t know. I’ve actually been wondering the same thing,” Chris responded. No reaction? He was telling the truth. Perhaps he knew less about the details of Jack’s and Lana’s relationship than she suspected.
“Interesting,” she said. “He made some crazy accusations. Suggested a mole in the FBI might be attempting to frame him.”
“Is that right? Did he offer any names?” Chris asked, swallowing hard. His interest was obviously piqued.
“Yeah...as a matter of fact he did,” she responded, maintaining her poker face. “Yours.”
Chris ran his hands through his hair. “Me?”
She paused and watched as his breathing became labored. She’d learned all she needed to know.
“No, I’m just kidding,” she chuckled. Her laugh fake, insincere. “Your secret’s still safe…for now.”
He held his hand against his chest. “Man, you had me going for a second. Thought I was going to have to empty out my Swiss bank accounts and move to Russia,” he joked in return.
Her eyebrow rose. No responses to his attempt at humor at all, not even the slightest hint of an itch.
“Careful what you say to me, Chris,” J.J. deadpanned. “I’m an FBI agent.”
A jovial expression seized her face. He had no idea how dead serious she really was.
J.J turned to glance at the wall clock and noticed Lana. She lingered like month-old fish odor at a nearby cubicle. When J.J. turned as if planning to leave, Lana gave up the pretense of being busy and injected herself into the discussion. Just as J.J figured she would.
“So, what did he have to say for himself?” Lana chimed in.
“Just wanted to apologize for the, uhhh, contentious relationship he and I have had over the years. Trying to atone for his past sins, I guess,” J.J. lied. “Must be trying to get in good with The Man Upstairs before he fries.”
Chris nodded. “I suspect he’d have to offer more apologies than he could possibly make in this lifetime to stay out of hell,” he said.
A slow smile crept upon J.J.’s lips. “Yes, there’s a special place in hell for traitors...like him.” She hoped they both would take the comment to heart. She shifted her glare to Lana. “I like to think hell’s fire burns a little hotter for those who betray their country.”
Lana returned J.J.’s glare, unyielding, defiant. “I’m a patriot. I would never betray my country.”
J.J. dismissed Lana’s remark as fake and disingenuous as her breasts and braced herself for the physiological fall-out. But none came.
Perhaps Lana had some semblance of honor, even if she was inept and had only succeeded in stealing other agents’ cases.
Chris flashed a sheepish expression. “So, do you think he did it?”
“I have no doubt he’s guilty,” J.J. lied. “And none of his half-assed apologies would ever alter my opinion of him.”
If Chris was indeed ICE Phantom, all evidence and suspicion must still point to Jack. Then Chris would continue to operate business as usual and catching him in the act would only be a matter of time.
An uncomfortable silence hovered between them. J.J. changed the subject.
“So, did you guys take your polys yet?”
Lana nodded. “Yes, I passed with flying colors. I’m back in the vault.”
“Motherflubber!” she yelled as her knees buckled.
Her skin crawled at the sound of Lana’s voice, but she wouldn’t be standing in the office if she hadn’t actually passed. Why did her remark about passing with flying colors ring untrue? Her mind plunged into another round of uncertainty. The situation served as a prime example of the reason J.J.’s “gift” was often more curse than blessing. To know someone had been untruthful was far less useful than knowing the reason why.
Lana turned to J.J. and sympathetically patted her shoulder. “Your…issue?”
J.J. nodded and tapped her forehead with the back of her hand.
“Well, you’ll have time to get some rest. In Jack’s absence, Mr. Cartwright instructed me to take over all of your cases until you pass your polygraph. So, I’ll need access to your cabinet safe,” she said, waiting to sink her claws into J.J.’s cases.
J.J. struggled to stifle the flippant bitch inside crying to get out. “Fine,” J.J. snapped. “Have at them.”
Plotnikov’s real case file still rested safely in the vault, housed inside a folder belonging to a deceased source. And Plotnikov was in Moscow. There’d be no reason for the mole or Lana to pursue more information about him. She looked to the ceiling and thanked God Dmitriyev’s information rested safely with her because she and Tony had been locked out of the vault before filing his case. Her two most important sources were safe, at least from Lana’s ineptness. And if Chris were indeed the mole, keeping their identities from him would no doubt mean the difference between life and death. He must never know about them. And he never would.
J.J. eyed Chris and he returned her glance. “So when’s your poly, Chris?” she asked.
“I got an email this morning. You, Tony, and I are the last three. I get the pleasure of the first appointment Thursday morning. Both of you are scheduled for Friday. Although when I arrived this morning, I heard Freeman ordered Cartwright to take one, and he’s not at all happy about it.”
“This morning?” J.J. asked, remembering her run-in with Cartwright outside the front entrance. He seemed off-balance, even panicked. She might’ve caught him right after Freeman broke the news.
She and Tony exchanged glances. “Yeah. Apparently he thought he was exempt, but Freeman thought otherwise. One thing you can say about Freeman is he’s fair.”
Or covering his ass. If J.J. were the director, she wouldn’t want to be called to the Hill to explain how senior executives don’t usually spy so Cartwright wasn’t expected to take the examination. Freeman hadn’t been fair, he’d been smart.
“Well, Tony and I have some issues we’d like to discuss in private, so we’re gonna grab an empty office. Who’s the acting supervisor?”
“Me,” Lana said. “But you’re free to use Jack’s office if you want. I’m not sitting in there...at least not yet.”
Tony mocked her, turning his head and silently mouthing the words, “At least not yet.”
J.J. shrugged half-heartedly then checked her jacket for lint, hoping Lana would evaporate into another dimension.
“Hey, J.J. Before you guys meet can I speak with you for second?” Lana lowered her voice. “Alone?”
“Sure,” J.J. answered, humoring her for humor’s sake. “Let’s step into the hall.” Lana followed her out the office door.
Lana hesitated for a few seconds. She stammered and stuttered before collecting herself. “Listen, I know you don’t think much of me,” Lana said. She paused as if waiting for J.J. to disagree.
J.J. pursed her lips and nodded. “Go on.”
“Even though Jack would never admit it, I think we all know the ICE Phantom exists,” Lana said. “And whatever you may think of me or how I do my job, I have as much interest in finding the asshole as anyone. So, just hear me out.”
How could J.J. resist hearing more with a start like that? “Agreed. Continue.”
“The night before Jack was arrested, I expressed some...some concerns I had about Chris’s behavior. With his attitude today, I’m even more worried.”
“About what?” J.J. waited for any reaction.
“That he might’ve played a part in what happened to Jack.”
Hmmm...no reaction, J.J. thought to herself. However, her only surprise was in the apparent ease in which Lana thrust her partner, and presumably her lover, squarely under the bus.
“He’s been acting strange, more obsessive than usual. Buying expensive jewelry that I’m not sure he can afford. He has volatile mood swings. And I believe I saw him with a flash drive; they’re forbidden in the SCIFed area. I just think you should be aware.”
“Me? I’m just a recruiter. You should
report it to security so they can make the proper inquiries,” J.J. responded, choking out the words. Given their history, it pained J.J. to help. But for all J.J. knew, Lana’s concern was genuine. “Now I need to get back inside so I can meet with Tony.”
“Sure, sure,” Lana said. “See ya later.”
Lana flashed a thinly veiled smirk as she walked away. J.J. wondered for a brief moment if strangling Lana with her own brunette tresses would still constitute murder.
• • •
Moments later in Jack’s office, Tony kicked his feet up on the desk, clasped his hands behind his head like a boss. “How do I look?” He shooed J.J. with his hand. “I take my coffee black, please.”
“Well, if you wanted something hot and black all you had to do was say so—here I am!”
He shook his head and revealed his sexy grin. He had quite a few smiles—his joking smile. His cocky smile. His cat that caught the canary smile. But the sexy smile was J.J.’s favorite.
“Whatever,” J.J. continued. “While I must say the look of success agrees with you, you do realize Jack probably farts in that chair.”
Tony vaulted up from the seat as if someone had lit a fire under his ass. He pushed the chair aside and scanned the office for another one. “Leave it to you to steal my little bit of thunder.”
“Ass thunder is what I saved you from,” she said chuckling before her mood soured. “While I appreciate the diversion, we’ve got to figure out a way to find this mole and save our source. I’m gonna hit the ladies’ and I’ll be right back.”
Chris. Mr. Cartwright. J.J. churned over the information overload falling into her lap. She had reason to suspect both, but insufficient evidence to implicate either. She paced down the long corridor replaying Lana’s and her conversation in her mind. Why was she so quick to hurl Chris under the bus with hardly a second thought? If J.J. suspected Tony had been involved in illegal activity she would’ve investigated him herself and made damn sure she had a leg to stand on before uttering her suspicion to a single soul. J.J. suspected Lana probably knew more than she admitted. About what? That was the fifty-million-dollar question.
