“Hi, Mrs. Cardinal.”
She stepped forward and gave Rule a hug. “I’m so, so sorry.”
She stepped back and then looked at me. “This is Jacob Hayden,” Rule said.
She extended her hand, “Yes, I know who you are. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
I shook her hand. “Glad to finally meet you.”
She nodded and stepped back into the house, “Please, come in.”
Off the main entrance and to the right was a living room filled with wooden furniture and two beige sofas.
“Please, have a seat. Can I get you any coffee, water, juice?”
We both thanked her and said that we were fine.
“Rule, my God,” she said shaking her head, “when I saw the news, I couldn’t believe it. I mean …” she started tearing up, “your family were some of the sweetest people I knew. Your mother and sisters, I mean, who could possibly do something like that?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Jacob has the lead on the case.”
“Do you have any suspects?”
“We do, or at least did,” I said. “One of the prime suspects committed suicide in one of our interrogation rooms.”
“Dear God.”
“Mrs. Cardinal, that’s why we’re here,” Rule said.
“I don’t understand?”
“We were hoping that you could help us out with some answers to questions that have come up recently,” I said.
“I’m not sure how I can help.”
I paused before asking my questions. I didn’t want to just ask if her husband had been in the CIA and offend her, but I didn’t know how to get around the question delicately.
“Mrs. Cardinal,” I said, “we believe that the Rules were killed by Russians.”
Her brows furrowed, “Russians?”
I nodded and looked at Rule before continuing. “And we think that it may have something to do with Mr. Rule’s past.”
Mrs. Cardinal’s demeanor suddenly changed. She didn’t change her expression or seating position, but her eyes moved back and forth between me and Rule in a way that gave the slightest hint that we were on to something.
“I wish I could help,” she said, “but Russians?”
Her voice cracked, and even though her body language didn’t change, her eyes told me that she knew something.
“What can you tell us about Mr. Cardinal’s background?” I asked.
Her eyes looked up toward the ceiling and then back down to me. “I’m sure Rule knows a lot of it.”
“I know bits and pieces,” he said.
She looked up again. “Uh, he was from the Midwest and moved to the East Coast for college when he was eighteen. That’s where he met your dad. That’s where all of us met, actually.”
“You went to UVA too?” I asked.
“Yeah, I was an English major. I had dreams of writing the Great American Novel.”
Her eyes looked up again and then started roaming the room. I didn’t catch on to what she was doing until I looked up and saw that one of the air vents was near us on the ceiling.
“UVA’s a good school.” I looked at my watch and then over at Rule. I reached for my wallet and pulled out a business card and wrote a note on the back of it. “Thanks for your help, Mrs. Cardinal. Here’s my card. Call me if anything comes to mind.”
She took it, and all of us stood up.
“I’m so sorry, Rule, for your family. I’ll keep them in my prayers.”
She hugged Rule again and shook my hand as we left.
In my car Rule said, “What just happened?”
“She couldn’t talk to us.”
“What does that mean?”
“Hopefully, everything.”
“Let’s not talk in code. I only went to college for four years.”
I looked around the cul-de-sac and then turned and looked at the neighborhood. Everything was still and quiet, just like a typical suburban neighborhood should be. Yet, I got the sense that everything about Mrs. Cardinal was anything but typical.
I put the car in gear and drove off.
“Jacob?”
“Yeah?”
“Well?”
“She couldn’t talk to us in there, but I think she’ll talk someplace else.”
“Why?”
“Hopefully she’ll explain.
Fifty-seven
We waited nearly two hours. I was hoping that she was going to show up, but as time passed, my hopes began to dwindle. The way she kept looking up at the air vents in her ceiling, I felt like she was trying to tell us something. Rather, that she wanted to tell us something but couldn’t. So I gave her my card with a note saying to meet us at the Martin Luther King, Jr. Memorial site.
It was the first place that came to mind. I’d only been there once since it opened in 2011. Like many people from D.C. who don’t take advantage of its rich history and culture, I’d often said that I wanted to visit the site again, but never got around to it. Shame on me.
Standing and facing the Potomac River, the memorial was to our backs. My hands were folded across my body like Dr. King’s sculpture, and I was staring out into the water with the same focus and intent that was on Dr. King’s face. At this time of day, the hot tourist spots were packed with people and may have been the reason that I’d immediately thought it would be a great meeting spot. But the longer we waited, the more nervous I became that Mrs. Cardinal wouldn’t show.
Rule looked at his watch again. “I think we should go back. I think she’ll talk to us.”
I shook my head, “Did you see the way she was looking at those vents? No way she’ll talk inside the house.”
“I don’t get why she’d think her house was bugged. CIA or not, Mr. Cardinal has been dead for over two years.”
I shrugged my shoulders, “I don’t have an answer for you, buddy, but she obviously thinks someone’s listening in.”
We fell quiet again. A slight breeze from the water blew across our faces, which felt great. It was uncomfortably hot, and the humidity was so high that if felt like I could drink the air. We turned around and let the breeze sweep our backs. Hordes of people were standing and taking pictures in front of Dr. King’s image. Others were reading inscriptions of Dr. King’s famous quotes along the back walls behind the statue. Two men, who at first looked like ordinary tourists, turned and looked our way. They weren’t looking past us like many people did who were looking at the water, but at us.
“Check out the two guys in Khakis and sunglasses,” I said to Rule.
“Already peeped them. They’ve been here for about ten minutes.”
“Russians?”
“They aren’t big like the other guys.”
I wasn’t going to take a chance. I unlatched the clip holding down my sidearm on my gun belt.
The men continued looking at us, and then one of them waved and smiled. They were about average height and build; both were clean-cut with dark brown hair. They started walking toward us in a non-threating manner.
“Detective Hayden,” one of the men said, “my name is Dexter Small.” He pointed to the other man, “and this is James Foxwood.”
“Do we know each other?” My tone was direct because my senses were on high alert.
“Actually, we don’t.”
They extended their hands but I didn’t shake.
“How do you know my name?”
“We know who you are.” They looked at Rule, “And the same with you, Mr. Rule.”
“Who are you guys?” I asked.
“I told you. I’m Dexter and this is James.”
“Those names sound phony,” Rule said.
The two looked at each other and smiled.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“We understand that you have some questions that you want answered.”
Now Rule and I looked at each other.
“Where’s Mrs. Cardinal?”
“She’s home.”
My face must have
given away my concern because Dexter raised his hands, “Don’t worry. She’s okay. We’re the good guys here.”
“So you were listening,” Rule said.
Dexter and James didn’t answer.
“Why don’t we go for a walk?” James spoke for the first time.
Rule and I didn’t move.
“We’re not enemies here,” James said. “I think you’ll find that, in the end, we both want the same thing.”
“And that is?” I said.
“The tape,” Rule answered.
No one said anything for a few seconds. The sounds from the tourists allowed for it not to get too quiet.
“Why don’t we take that walk now?” Dexter said.
I carefully looked them both up and down. They were wearing khaki pants and fitted T-shirts. There weren’t any bulges from their waistlines, so it didn’t appear that they had any concealed weapons. I looked at Rule and he nodded. We had an understanding. At the first sign that something wasn’t right, we were going to take these two down quickly.
“Okay,” I said, “let’s take a walk.”
Fifty-eight
I kept my eyes on them. They never put their hands in their pockets or slowed their pace to get behind us. Nevertheless, I didn’t want to get caught off guard.
“Do I even need to ask who you work for?” I said.
“You can, but you already know the answer,” Dexter said.
Dexter and I were walking side by side; Rule was to my left, and James was to Dexter’s right.
“Why are you listening in on Mrs. Cardinal?”
James laughed. “We weren’t listening in on Mrs. Cardinal. Why would we keep tabs on her?”
Dexter smirked before answering, “She called us. She told us that you’d come by and figured it’d be better for us to talk.”
Therein lies the proof, I thought. Mrs. Cardinal has the number to two CIA agents. How would she have their numbers unless she knew them? And how would she know them unless she or Mr. Cardinal were affiliated with them.
“Did you know my father?” Rule asked.
James nodded, “Yes, we did.”
I looked at Rule and he closed his eyes. I could only imagine what he was feeling—anger, betrayal, sorrow, maybe even hatred? I tried my hardest to keep my emotions controlled. I didn’t want these men to know how surprised I was. I met Mr. Rule when I was five years old, and nothing during the thirty plus years that I’d known him hinted anywhere near him being an undercover CIA agent.
“Detective Hayden,” James said, “I’m sure you can appreciate the term confidentiality.”
“I can.”
“Because what we discuss here doesn’t leave here. And even saying that, there’s only so much we can tell you.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“So what do you want to know?”
“How long was my father with the CIA?” Rule asked.
“Until yesterday,” James said, “close to forty years.”
“How does that happen?” I said. “How does a man live most of his life never telling his family what or who he is?”
“Times were different back then,” James said. “We were just coming out of the Second World War, and then we had the Cold War. All powerful nations have spies. And the only way to keep them and their families safe was to conceal their identities.”
“So everything about my father, everything that I thought I knew about him was a lie,” Rule said more as a rhetorical question.
“What about Cardinal Rule?” I said.
“Samuel and Dennis wanted stability for their families, and they figured that having a legitimate business would be best for that. Plus, it gave them the credibility they needed to move between countries unnoticed.”
“So, cutting to the chase,” I said, “what happened yesterday? How were the Rules discovered?”
James and Dexter looked at each other before answering.
“A week ago, we were informed that Lev Oborski, a Russian businessman and known affiliate of the Lazarev Gang, landed on U.S. soil. A day later, as we know that you’re aware of, five other affiliates of said Mafia family entered D.C.”
“How’d they make it through customs if they’re known Mafia members?”
“They’re known by us, but they aren’t restricted to enter our country.”
“Why is the CIA keeping tabs on Russian gangsters?”
“Any group that poses a possible threat to the U.S. we keep tabs on.”
“How do Russian gangsters pose a threat to the U.S.?”
“That’s one of the ones we can’t answer,” Dexter said.
“So, you let them in and find out what they want?”
“Happens all the time.”
“Makes me feel better about my security,” I said sarcastically.
“You still haven’t answered the question,” Rule said. “How’d they find my family?”
“Again, as you are aware, they placed a mole in Cardinal Rule. She was there for six months under an assumed identity. That’s how they found him.”
“Who was she, really?” I asked.
“Her name was Dominika Abramovich. She worked for Lev Oborski in Russia, and she was a member of Lazarev Gang.”
“But that still doesn’t answer how they found him in the first place,” Rule said. “How’d they even know where to look if his identity was concealed?”
“An inside leak, best we can come up with. Someone from the inside knew who he was. And if I was a betting man, that someone was paid handsomely for such information,” James said.
“Can’t you trace bank accounts or phone conversations to link your mole?”
“We’re trying. But you’ve got to remember this was probably done over a couple of years’ period, and the CIA employs thousands of people. So far we haven’t been able to find anyone who deposited a large sum of money into their accounts.”
I shook my head as we walked. As an investigator, I understood their situation. Trying to search the backgrounds of thousands of employees worldwide was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. However, I also knew that everyone leaves behind clues. A lot of times it just takes patience until the clues are uncovered.
We came upon a bench that was under a tree. James and Dexter led us to the bench, where we were offered seats. Rule and I declined. Dexter sat down while James stood next to us.
“Did you let it happen?” Rule said.
“Jesus, no,” Dexter said.
Rule stared at them for a moment and for the quickest of seconds, I thought that I was going to have to jump in front of Rule before he tore off Dexter’s head. The CIA is known for many things, and lying is one of them. Was it possible that they’d had eyes on the Russians the whole time and allowed one of their own to be slaughtered in cold blood? I couldn’t fathom that happening, but I wasn’t ready to dispel that notion either.
“So, this leads to the next question,” I said, “why the Rules? Why was the Russian Mafia interested in Mr. Rule?”
“We believe that Dennis knows or knew the whereabouts of a certain videotape?”
“What’s on it?” I asked.
Dexter sighed before answering. “In September 1, 1983, in a small town in what was then the Soviet Union, a meeting went wrong and, as a result, people died that day.”
“How many?”
“A few.”
“And when you say ‘went wrong’ what does that mean?”
“It means that certain members of our organization were there to secretly negotiate a deal. The Soviets had ulterior motives and, when an agreement couldn’t be reached, they pulled out their guns and then the shooting began.”
“People didn’t walk around with cameras back then like they do now, so how was this caught on tape.”
“A man was walking his son to school and he had a video camera.”
“School? Wait, the people who were killed, who were they?”
“The meeting was set up across the street from an elementary
school, it was believed to be a safe and neutral place to meet.” Dexter paused before continuing. “Mostly mothers and children were among the victims.”
“So, if I’m reading this right, we were there on an illegal mission that went totally wrong and, as a result, women and children lost their lives.”
Dexter and James didn’t answer, but their silence was more than enough of a positive answer.
“And they, the Russians, believe that my father knows where this tape is?”
“We believe so.”
“This happened over thirty years ago. Why would he still be in possession of the tape?” Rule said.
“Because the agency never received it,” Dexter said. “Your father said that he destroyed it, but we know that he didn’t.”
“How so?”
“He told someone that he didn’t.”
“Who?”
“That’s another one that we can’t answer.”
We fell quiet for a spell.
“Okay,” I said, “assuming that everything you just said is true. As horrible as it is that women and children were killed this way, and assuming that this tape does still exist, why would these Russians want this tape after thirty years?”
James and Dexter didn’t answer again.
“There’s something else that you still aren’t telling us.”
James and Dexter looked at each other, but didn’t answer.
“For them after all this time to still be searching for this tape, there’s more on it than you’re leading on. What else is on it?”
“That’s all we have,” Dexter finally said.
“Bullshit. I have five dead people, including five dead Russians in the past forty-eight hours, and the only thing you’re telling me is that they’re after a thirty-year-old tape that caught the killings of women and children, and you expect me to believe that’s all there is. What else is on the tape?”
“It’s not what, but who?” Rule said.
We all looked at Rule as if his booming voice came from the heavens. “My father was one of the men caught on tape shooting, wasn’t he?”
James nodded, “Yes.”
“But my father’s not important enough to travel this far for a tape. So, someone else of greater importance is on it. Someone who, at the time, was just an agent. Someone who now, if the tape became known, could destroy our already tense relations with Russia and possibly start another war.”
The Game of Life or Death: A Detective Series of Crime and Suspense Thrillers (The Jacob Hayden Series Book 3) Page 13
